Day 2
It’s not a dream. I wake up to the empty world once again, and the ominous silence accompanies every mile of my journey back to my college.
I eat some granola bars for breakfast and sip on some iced coffee—thank god I worked as a barista once, so I can operate the machine at the first Starbucks I pass by. I don’t leave bills on the counter this time.
Maybe I’m finally kicking into survival mode, because I barely tear up as I climb the stairs into my dorm building. I try not to look inside the other rooms as I pass them. Some doors are slightly open, but the quiet tells me what I already know; I’m alone.
I pack my things quickly into the suitcase I came here with at the beginning of the semester.
Clothes, toothbrush, beauty products; it’s silly to worry about these things when there’s no one around to see me, but it gives me a sense of normalcy to step into the shower, to wash my hair, to put on deodorant and perfume.
The actions feel like routine, and they ground me.
Besides, I’m not sure where my search might lead me. Who knows when I’ll take my next shower.
I force myself not to look back as I leave, hauling the suitcase into the back seat of my car.
Still, I pause before hitting the road and dial my parents again, just one last time.
“Hey.” I speak into the answering machine, knowing that it’s probably futile to leave a message, but I can’t stop myself from trying.
I clear my throat before continuing. “Hey, Mom. Dad. I don’t think you’re going to hear this, but if…
” I blink a few times and take in some grounding breaths.
“If you do, I just thought I’d let you know that I’m here. I’m okay, I think. I’m alone—”
I pause when that reality crashes into me. I’m alone.
“I haven’t found anyone. Yet,” I finish with difficulty. “I’m searching, though. And maybe I can try to get to you guys at some point? It’s far, but…”
I trail off when I realize how pointless it all is. My voice speaking into the silence, hoping to connect with something, anything, other than nothingness on the other end.
“I hope you’re okay,” I let out before hanging up.
The moment I drop my phone onto the passenger seat, I put the car in drive, as if I can leave behind the feeling of utter failure that stings in my chest.
This apocalypse sucks.