. . . A N N E T T E | D A N E S . . .
“Mom! Over here!” A voice – his voice – cradled in the wind, blending with the birdsong and lulling rumble of the waves. And when she bore her palms into the sand, felt it grit between her toes and lifted her face to meet the warm caress from the sun, she saw him. He ran parallel to the deep blue horizon, his worries tossed away in a way only he could manage. Slender, all skin and bones, his toothy grin big enough to build instant love and trust on. That was her boy. He waved to her – threw his hand up into the air, flapped it dramatically, and even from so far away she could hear his trademarked two-note laugh. It was the contagious kind, the one she waited for after a hard day’s work to remind her what genuine happiness sounded like.
Foamy water kicked up around his feet, splashed his knobbly knees, glistening on his calves in the brightness of the midday sun. And he stopped. Perfectly still in the ankle-deep water with his face falling to a blank slate, her son Sebastian froze, went stiff, the color in his body leaking out into the water around him. Her own heart plummeted into her guts, her eyes going wide and the very breath in her lungs being ripped out in one swift tug. She tried to stand and run to him, to reach out to him, but found she couldn’t, like her veins had been pumped full of lead and her bones had become I-beams. In absolute terror she counted every millisecond in slow-motion, could hear every breath she drew amplified to a deafening magnitude.
Fluidly, so smoothly, Sebastian’s head swivelled to face her and he locked his eyes with his mothers’. Every strand of his wiry, dark hair bounced and floated weightlessly, as though he were underwater, and his lips parted so painfully slowly. When he blinked his eyes, it took forever for them to reopen and for his vision to refocus on the face of his mother he looked at with general contentment. With bated breath she waited on the words he was forming with his mouth, praying every last syllable would contain the love she had been dying to hear for so long, to fill-in the crater in her heart that had been formed on the day when she had to say goodbye to them both.
But she knew it wouldn’t – she knew he couldn’t.
Sebastian’s eyelids gingerly fell, hid those eyes big like planets. The corners of lips upturned in a soft smirk, and his whole chest rose with a big inhale of salty seawater.
“Mama,” he said in that innocent, boyish voice of his. “Mama… I love y –”
A bang.
Something broke.
Everything was falling apart.
A scream was caught in her throat, her skin was drenched in sweat. Annette Danes bolted upright in her bed, her fingertips clawing at the damp bedsheets, her eyes flicking around the shadowy room and seeing every detail without registering what anything was. She drew the tattered blue sheet up to her chest as her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. It took her a few seconds for her brain to catch-up with the rest of her.
There was another few bangs, albeit less explosive than the one that had woken her up, and in the calmness that came after the initial panic of a bad dream, Annette realized it had been a knock on the front door. In the dusty dimness of the lightless bedroom, Annette clambered out of bed, let her feet fall onto the cold floor. She stood, felt her shoulders and left hip ache as she did so, and she stifled a yawn. A grogginess, an exhausted sadness immediately resurfaced in her as she took her first few steps into hallway. It was the reminder of where she was, who she still was. Everything came back to her at once, and it was something she could have done without.
The living room was brighter as the morning sun filtered in through the slatted blinds. It wasn’t her own home; Annette refused to go back to her own apartment only two floors above. It was no longer her own. Nor was the current one she slept in, but it beat seeing the ghosts from a life she so desperately wanted to fall back into the arms of.
At the front door Annette peered through the peek hole. A broad-shouldered, bushy-bearded bald man with red, sunburnt skin was staring down at his shoes. Though he was in his fifties, his face suggested he was much older. Stress from the new life ate away at him, like it had all of them. Annette only noticed in that moment just how tired and frail her friend looked.
Annette undid the lock, slid the bolt away, and opened the door. She kept it closed enough to not reveal her pyjama-clad, early morning messiness, and rather let only her oily, swollen face peer through the crack.
“Morning,” Alexander J. McMurray greeted in his gruff, monotonous tone. Annette only nodded in acknowledgement. It was still too early for formalities.
“The group’s heading out. Thought you should know,” Alexander informed her, referring to the scavenging party planned to tackle the mall a few intersections northward.
“Thanks,” Annette replied. Her voice cracked, still sounded rusty. She coughed, cleared her throat, and smirked a pathetic attempt at a smirk at him. “I’ll be down soon.”
“You take care now, Annette.” Annette listened to his footfalls grow softer as he left down the hallway and the heavy door leading to the stairwell slammed shut behind him. There were no other sounds, but Annette still stood by the door listening anyway, leaning against the wall. Half of her hoped for human contact, connection, something to make her feel thought-about and loved. She wanted affection, arms to hold her, a second heartbeat to feel pulsing against her own chest as she hugged them tightly and refused to let go. The other half of her couldn’t stand how much the first half craved that. It needed isolation, only her own thoughts to entertain it. It was the numbing half, the bleak half, the half that whispered tempting thoughts of letting her toes wiggle off the edge of the balcony or slide the cool, serrated end of a blade down her inner forearm.
Annette didn’t want either half, and yet she lost herself in their throes each and every time she woke up.
After a few more minutes of lingering while she combated a million different thoughts, Annette dressed into jeans and a flowery blouse that smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Before Annette left the apartment she slid the glass door leading to the balcony away and stepped outside. It was warming up, feeling more like spring, though she still felt the cool chill tickle her ears. Down below on the rooftop courtyard of the main building she saw several people standing about, talking, eating, watching the motionless streets, losing themselves in their own inner-wars. Annette stopped wondering why so many people were awake so early in the day when she realized most of them were simply unable to fall asleep to begin with.
There was a slight, metallic grumble as another balcony door slid open. It was a tall, light-skinned woman who once had boyish short blonde hair that had since grown out ragged. Her face was soft, her eyes big and always looking as though she was surprised.
“Good morning,” Annette greeted her. Hannah Pritchard glanced up, that pleasantly startled look either just natural or genuine (no one could tell), and smiled warmly. “I hear you’re leaving soon.”
“I am,” Hannah answered. Her voice was gentle and quiet, sometimes a mere mumble. Rarely did she raise her voice; it was always something soothing, something pleasant.
“Oh, and, good morning,” Hannah quickly added, a little timidly. She rolled her eyes, directed at herself; she smiled goofily and chuckled. She made her way over to where Annette stood, and together they both rested their arms on the railing and looked out at the cityscape.
“It’s kind of, um, kind of weird – how far we can see now,” Hannah remarked. The skies had cleared up drastically, the visibility of the city stretching on farther than it ever had before.
“All it took was the world ending for us to finally love it,” Annette added. Hannah nodded, gave an agreeing mumble, and returned to watching a flock of birds fly across their field of vision.
“Anyway, I should go get that list. See you down there,” Annette said after what felt like a solid ten minutes. She patted Hannah on the shoulder and stepped back into the apartment. She headed out into the hallway illuminated solely by the windows on either end that let in enough light to showcase the dark brown panelled walls and beige carpet. With enough maintenance, the condos had been stunning. They still were, just not nearly as clean.
Before the door at the end of the hallway had fully opened, Annette had stepped past it and headed down the stairs. Every step made some new part of her ache or groan in protest. The day they had generators that could run the elevators, Annette would be a happy camper. Until then, she had to settle with exercise. Not her favorite thing.
At the very bottom of the stairwell, Annette turned left and opened a door that brought her into one short hallway, doors to abandoned units left wide open on either side. They didn’t house anyone and were used merely for storage and letting sunlight into the hallways. The hallway ended at a glass door that separated the first floor units from the lobby, and as she got closer to the lobby she could already hear muffled voices through the closed door.
The lobby was one long, rectangular room with the doors to the first floor unit hallways down a very short hall on the back end of either side of the lobby. Two curved staircases with an ornate, polished bannister curled along the side walls and up to the second floor, where a balcony overlooked the lobby below. Up on the second floor was where the party rooms were. In the back center of the lobby was the concierge desk, and hanging high above it was a festive chandelier that once glittered magically but had since been caked in dust and cob webs. Near every corner of the lobby was a grey stone pillar that met the ceiling; large, ceramic pots were placed around the bases of each pillar and vines grew from them, snaking and twirling around the pillars.
As Annette strolled across the glossy marble floor, the murmurs from before came to an abrupt stop. Without stopping, Annette glanced over her shoulder and up at the rounded balcony. Sitting on one of the stone benches up on the balcony was Maria Santos. For once her dark hair was not in a ponytail – rather, it was left to fall around her shoulders. There were noticeable bags under her eyes, and her cheeks had become gaunt and hollow. Annette didn’t know Maria’s weight or size before, but it was evident in Maria’s current form that she had lost a lot of weight.
“Everything alright?” Annette asked Maria. The second Maria had spotted Annette, she fell totally silent, and it didn’t change when Annette addressed her. Maria bowed her head and glanced off to the side. It was then that Annette saw the rosary beads dangling from between Maria’s fingers.
“Didn’t mean to disrupt,” Annette apologized, her voice echoing around the expansive room. Again, Maria kept her lips tightly sealed, but the second Annette turned her back to the middle-aged woman, she heard Maria mutter incoherent words under her breath. Annette hoped it was just prayers, though she had been certain before stepping into the main foyer that it sounded like a two-person conversation more than anything. The other person must have left before Annette got there, she decided. She made a mental note to track down Maria afterward and make sure everything was okay. Only a month ago, Maria had attempted suicide - something only Annette and Amina knew about. Since then, Maria had become heavily religious, trying to use God to cope with her depression. It worked, to some extent, but Annette made sure to keep and eye on Maria and be as loving and supportive to her as she could. She didn't think Maria would try it again, but she didn't believe Maria would have tried it the first time, either.
Stepping through the first set of open doors and manually sliding open the second, Annette walked outside, standing in the paved opening in front of the building. One long, three-foot high concrete barrier stretched across from the wall of the building to twenty feet ahead, where it wrapped around and went on to the right for another fifteen or-so feet, forming half a square, concealing the paved area. Shrubs were planted in the middle, granting another two feet of height. Directly to Annette’s right was the stone pathway, dirt on either side where flowers used to grow. The pathway cut across a small patch of grass and lead to the paved storefront area. A long, short strip of concrete stairs led down to the main road where the cars and trucks the many residents used were parked haphazardly along the road.
The storefronts itself consisted of offices or small shops long since turned into useful rooms or otherwise left to be dark, dusty and untouched. The former coffee shop-turned-meeting area already had people inside it, and of all of them, Annette could hear Ned Rivera’s distinct hyena-like laugh. On her way by it, Annette peered inside and spotted Ned and Edward Wright sitting at a table together, mugs filled with coffee that tasted like earthy piss in their hands, candles lit on the other tables granting them more visibility. One of the newcomers to The Towers sat alone at a table, and Annette felt shame in not remembering his name right away. But she marked his face down as one she needed to get to know in her head and promised herself she would by the end of the day.
Next to the coffee shop sat the pharmacy, the door already propped open with a cinderblock. The second Annette walked inside and looked around at the emptying shelves and general disarray of the pharmacy, someone emerged from the backroom, boxes in her arms blocking her face.
“I didn’t do inventory yet,” Amina Ali snapped without first acknowledging it actually was Annette she was speaking to. “But I got piss drunk last night and I’ll have you your list in a minute.” Amina moved gracefully, her hips swaying and body looking comfortably at ease. She set the boxes down on the countertop next to the unused cash register and let out a huff. Both hands were planted on her hips and she shook her head to herself. With one eyebrow raised questioningly and her arms crossed, Annette stared at her friend, not saying a word but communicating clearly what she felt.
“So I had a bit to drink and felt young again. I’m sorry,” Amina responded sarcastically with a sigh and a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ll get it done quickly.”
“Amina,” Annette said.
“I know, I know! Okay? It was irresponsible, I’m irresponsible… I get it,” Amina grumbled. She set to work by unpacking the boxes and checking off a list or making little scribbled notes, trying to keep track of what medical supplies they had and what they desperately needed. After their food and medical stocks had been raided and stolen a week prior, recovering everything was the main priority. Though she didn’t say it, Annette knew Amina was feeling pressure trying to organize everything.
“Amina,” Annette repeated, a little more sternly.
“I said I’m sorry, I ju –”
“Can you shut-up, or do I have to send you to the time-out corner?” Annette taunted her with a sly smirk. She watched how Amina’s face went from a stern look to a relaxed, humored one, and immediately to an annoyed one.
“Yeah, fuck you, too,” Amina shot back at Annette. On the paper she had in her hands Amina made a few more notes and scribbled something out. What she handed to Annette was a list of supplies and a doodle of a cat, which Annette chose to ignore.
“So who you sending?” Amina asked.
“Elliot, Hannah and Charles,” Annette answered. “I can trust them to know what we need, and then some.”
“Huh,” Amina nodded. “Hey, what happens when we can’t find anything else? Like medicine and stuff? I mean, there’s gotta be only so much in the city… right?” Annette bowed her head and shrugged. It was question she asked herself often. Would they need to move completely out of the city and become nomadic, travelling to where there were necessities?
“I don’t know yet,” Annette told her. “But I know that we’ll figure it out. We will. We always have, and I trust this group to get whatever we need done done.”
“Okay, calm down. Don’t get all inspirational mayor on me,” Amina joked. Bringing her legs up over the counter, Amina swiveled around and hopped down behind the counter. She continued sorting through the contents of the pile of boxes, trying to keep herself busy.
“Get back to work, Ali,” Annette sighed. She walked out of the pharmacy, the sunlight blinding Annette immediately. She raised her forearm to shield her eyes against it as she hurried down the steps to the main road. Already there was a clear hammering sound coming from the rooftops as Alexander and his crew returned to building the chicken coop on the main building’s rooftop courtyard.
Huddled around a red pick-up truck was Charles Okeke and Elliot Rice. Sometimes when Annette spotted Charles from the corner of her eye, she believed it could have been her son. Their hair, their height, their lanky frame – all of it reminded Annette of Sebastian. It made looking at him difficult at times.
“Waiting on Hannah?” Annette asked the two as she got closer. They had been invested in a deep conversation, one they stood close enough to one another to hear, preventing them from hearing Annette right away. But when they had, both quickly turned and directed their attention to only her.
“Like always,” Elliot remarked. “Actually…” As if on cue, Hannah came jogging down the steps, panting and with sweat forming on her brow. When she reached them she doubled over, planted her hands firmly on her knees and tried to catch her breath, her face red from either the running or embarrassment. The other three shared a small laugh at Hannah’s expense, Charles pitching in and calling her lazy.
When Hannah recovered, Annette handed her Amina’s list, which Hannah tucked safely away into her breast pocket. She opened the driver’s side door and hopped in, Elliot and Charles getting in on the other side.
“Get what you can, we’ll send another group out tomorrow if we have to,” Annette told them through the window Hannah rolled down. “And be safe.”
“We always are, ma’am,” Elliot was quick to say.
The engine of the truck roared to life, a sound so loud and nowadays foreign-sounding that Annette found it difficult to stand so close to. She stepped back onto the sidewalk and waved to the truck as it drove off down the road, winding around the corner and vanishing behind the heaps of rubble from the buildings across the street the inferno ravaged. The sounds of the engine went on for a long time with no other white noise from the city to drown it out. It was relaxing, the silence, but also entirely eerie. Annette didn’t think anyone got used to how quiet everything became.
Heading back up the steps and figuring she would go chat with the unknown man in the coffee shop, Annette let her mind wander, running over the plans to start “vertical farms” alongside the back walls of the buildings. It was still in the early stages, that plan, and Annette –
The boom of a gunshot, as clear as day, tore apart the atmosphere. In quick succession it was followed by a few more – multiple guns firing at once. It was far off, merely an echo to where she stood, but Annette still whipped around, alert. People emerged from the stores, Amina quick to join Annette at her side. All of them stood, speechless, listening for a follow-up indication to other human life.
“Was it… our people?” Ned Rivera asked. None of them carried guns, but Annette knew that wasn’t what Ned meant.
“No – wrong direction,” Annette answered.
“Should we be worried?” Ned asked, her shrill voice a little shaky.
That was a question Annette didn’t know how to answer. In truth, yes, everyone at The Towers should always be worried. In their current state they had yet to witness the brutal honesty of humanity’s collapse and what became of “friendly neighbors” and “harmless passerby’s”. At all times of the day, everyone should be on guard as it was only a matter of time until that bluntness of society’s downfall hit them harder than it previously had.
“No,” Annette answered. “Everyone go back inside. Just keep your eyes and ears open.” Naturally no one moved from their spots, and whispers and low voices broke out everywhere.
“You think it’s actually something?” Amina asked Annette in a hushed voice. The damage control Annette had to work through after their food supplies had been stolen was only just getting better – and that wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Panic over a potential human threat –if that – was not necessary at the moment. If anything, it could be nothing but a car backfiring, or good people acting in self-defence. Whatever it was, Annette didn’t want it to be the thing that made The Towers feel any more anxious than it already was. Not yet, at least.
“No,” Annette told her, and it was a white lie that Annette knew Amina couldn’t see through. The younger woman nodded, bit her bottom lip as she started thinking heavily, and walked off.
Glancing over at the small crowd and many people excited or upset by the gunshot, Annette felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. When the time came for them to have to face something big, she didn’t know what to do. But, without missing a beat, everyone would turn to her expecting her to know exactly what to do.
She didn’t what she would do when they found out she was just as lost as they were.
Festive