For All Intents and Purposes - pt. 1

A/N: I'm considering a new title? But this'll do for now.

-

I turned the knob back and forth in my old minivan, trying to find a radio station with some substance. Throughout the months of chaos, my favorite news anchors would often recommend movies for us to watch in case the cold bodies rotting underground turned into zombies that we’d have to fend off. They’d recommend books to read, in order to ease the minds of the few listeners. Which I was grateful for, since my six-year-old sister didn’t need to hear about how we were all going to die within two months if the cure wasn’t completed.

How she was going to die in two months.

I ended up turning off the radio, after hearing another ad for half-off on some crappy ice cream in the center of the city. That just made the familiar sense of dread creep inside my body again and I wanted to shake it off, like I had managed to shake off everything else. Like the initial news of the virus in the beginning or how my father had — how my father had caught —

I shook that off too.

Rolling down the window, I called out to my sister who was playing in the sandbox about twenty yards from me. I could see her sluggish movements and I could see how she kept away from the two other kids and their parents. I had to hand it to her, she knew how to stay safe even if she wanted to play. “Sienna! You alright?” My voice seemed to have carried, since I saw a meek thumbs up and a half smile, then her pointed look in the direction of the kids who were gleefully swinging on the old tire.

I wanted to mouth ‘go on’ but that was caught in the back of my throat. She was right. She should keep to herself.

I went back to drumming my hands on the dashboard, waiting for her to come back to the car before sunset. At a certain point, I had wanted to let her forget about the world ending and just let her be free and be a kid for once. Laughter was a rarity in our apartment, except in those odd evenings when Mom was home. Even then, there was still the stark difference in everyone.

My mom finally admitted the world ending after my sister and I had already known for a month. Every morning, she’d go out on a drive to her researching lab and work on a cure as I’d carry around the sickening weight of the truth as I made two cups of hot chocolate and two cups of coffee. Rationing out her chocolate was easy, since our father used to buy everything in bulk. She’d have enough to last her a year after the world had ended. If she could ever find the box under my bed where I kept her rations. Same with the sugar. I used it sparingly, since the prices had gone up by a mile.

I had enough for two large birthday cakes and one last sweet cup of coffee. The strawberry frosting had already been picked out and I could only imagine the look on their faces. Twenty more days, I reminded myself. Twenty more days until Sienna is seven.

I didn’t need to turn fifteen anyhow, cake wasn’t my thing.

Sienna still sat in her sandbox, piling all of the sand together into one big mountain. She looked at peace, oddly enough. Which was a strange expression to see on her face after most of the life that she remembered being overtaken by the news and the fear mongering. At five years old, she came downstairs and used to sit in front of the TV. She’d stare in absolute horror at all of the lifeless bodies being broadcasted and then she’d run to me and bury her head into my side for comfort. ‘I dun wanna die,’ she whispered. ‘I dun want anyone to die.’

‘Me too,’ I’d say, while petting her orange hair. ‘Me too.’

It’s weird to see a six-year-old embrace the concept of death like an old friend. But then again, it was mostly my fault. I had let her take days off of school, just so she could have sat in front of the TV and watched as the reports came out at rapid fire. I let her watch the funerals that were shown almost 24/7. Who was I to stop her from facing her own mortality?

I was her older sister.

She still sat in the sandbox and I could see how hesitant she was when moving around. Every once in a while, she’d brush the sand off of her arm and then continue. Sienna kept on turning her head to look at the children behind her, as if she wanted to ask how they didn’t notice the lack of kids playing in the park. She kept trying to stare straight ahead at me, like she wanted to tell me that she wanted to go. That she wanted to head back to our apartment and wait until Mom got back. But she didn’t.

There was no signal.

‘Protect your younger sister, Nora. Above all costs, please do so.’ I could still remember my mom’s worn face, a few months after Sienna was born. Those words were still repeated to me on a regular basis, more than ever now that the virus had made its way into the light. ‘You can protect her better than anyone.’

I threw my head back and took a swig of my long cold coffee, waiting for Sienna’s call so that we could go back to our apartment. Typically, I’d try to keep her away from crowded environments or anywhere with a high density of people. But it wasn’t fair to keep a young kid inside of a bare apartment with only a few things for entertainment. I wouldn’t feel as bad if we still lived in our home, but Dad had changed all of that.

It wasn’t his fault, really.

My mother didn’t know where he caught the virus, but she couldn’t throw him out. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her to just let him go. ‘He’ll get better, there’ll be a cure, or he’ll kill us all.’ During late nights, I’d huddle with my sister in her room as we listened to Dad stumble around downstairs aimlessly. Every cough sounded like his death sentence, each as painful as the last. I hold onto her closely, telling her that everything would be alright. Even with the cure being broadcasted over the internet, on the TV, on the radio, I still found it hard to hold onto hope.

-

I found my father, dead on the floor one morning. The bumping all throughout the night had stopped but I hadn’t investigated. In order to protect my younger sister, I dragged his dead weight into a black trash bag and set him by the door. I didn’t really look at his face — I didn’t want to see the gray and orange undertones, I didn’t want to look at the lifeless laugh lines. Waiting for Mom to get back from the lab, so we’d be able to decide what to do. We didn’t have the time for a proper burial but it wasn’t fair to let him rot with the rest of the John Does.

‘You can’t talk about your father like that, Nora. It’s not right. He’s still watching over you.’ I had seen outline of his face through the trash bag, the sharp jaw and his eye sockets. It unnerved me. My hands were shaky — disconnected — as I turned the trash bag over so that he’d face the floral wallpaper. My mom stood behind me, sobbing grossly into the sleeve of her shirt.

‘I’m talking about his body, Mom. Not actually him. He’s not here now. We have to face it, like we face the rest of the world. He’s gone.’ I had brought my hands up to the cross necklace and I started to fiddle with the chain.

Mom had remained silent for a few more minutes, until she went to put a free hand on my shoulder. Comfort hadn’t been needed then, since I didn’t need to process his death. Life was life, death was death. Moving on was moving on, getting over it would be easy.

That’s why it had been easy when I had fetched a shovel from our unused shed and started to for a few hours. Sweat formed at my brow, my hands were cramped, my clothes was covered with mud and dirt and bugs, but I hadn’t been able to find a place in my frantic mind to care. At some point — nearing noon, I was about to fall over from sheer exhaustion, with each breath being labored and my lungs on fire — Mom came outside, dragging the body with her. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, she sniffled every so often as we both pushed him in there.

‘Is Sienna awake yet?’ She had asked me, peering into the pit with her pale eyes.

‘Mhmm, I don’t know, Mom. I haven’t been inside.’ I had known that the cure was going to save us, I knew that it was going to take a while. Mom knew that too, since she had worked in labs trying to analyze a few strains of WEV. ‘Toss some sticks into the pit over Da — his body and then I’ll take care of the rest and get Sienna up. Let’s burn the body and then I’ll toss and pack dirt over the rest. You can say a few words of prayer, but I think I’m more suited for that.’ The cross on my neck had been heavy.

A proper funeral would have taken too long, would have been more expensive. A backyard burial probably was illegal, but who was going to stop us?

My last words to her were, as I went inside to fetch a five-year-old and wash off the heavy feeling of death on my hands, ‘It’s very chilly outside. Great day for a bonfire, yeah?’

-

Sienna still played in her sandbox, I still drank my cold coffee, the world was at peace with itself and still at war. Hundreds died every minute but I knew that my mom was getting more and more optimistic about the cure each passing day. Civilization was dwindling but who was I to worry about that when a majority of my loved ones would be safe?

I wrapped my red jacket around my shoulders, easing into the comfort of the soft fabric.

-

That morning, before I had taken her out to the park, I had made two cups of coffee.

I made two cups of coffee. One for myself, the other for my dad. I left his heavy mug — two cream, no sugar — on his side of the table and nursed my own — black, I didn’t like to waste resources. Then, I finished my first cup, put it in the sink, and then made two cups of hot chocolate. One for myself, one for Sienna. Five marshmallows for her, zero for me. Then, I waited for her to come tiptoeing down the stairs.

‘Heeey, Sienna. I made your favorite drink! I have a big day planned, so after this, take a shower and then I’ll get everything ready to hit the road. Mom will be back tomorrow.’

‘That sounds good.’ Her words were clipped, her brown eyes didn’t quite meet mine. Sienna didn’t quite look in place, amongst the boxes and the lone picture of our family on the wall behind her. She sat on the edge of her chair uncomfortably, never really leaning back.

-

I looked around, trying to find her. It was getting a bit chilly out and it would probably be for the best for me to drive her back to the apartment. I didn’t like to drive much after sunset anyway and the daytime sky was dying, the soft oranges being erased by the encompassing blues. (It was like the end of the world, almost.) I didn’t even have a license, instead driving around hoping that no one would pull me over. Mom called me mature, so I hoped that other people would see that in my posture and concentration.

Where is she?

Still surveying the landscape, panic started to spike. I had been on edge since the news of WEV had been released but this just brought on full on panic, with my breaths started to speed up as I opened the car door the actively go and look for her. The looming trees above me started to seem more threatening and I could hear the footsteps and doors slamming of parents who had realized the time and started to pack up.

My own footsteps were light and I dashed into the playground, with the wet grass somehow sopping into my sneakers. The light was fleeting fast and I wanted to find her quickly but my brain was too scattered. I started to jog around the place, looking around the stumps of the trees and the teeter totters. The noises of other children filled my brain and I just. wanted them. to leave. Sienna wasn’t there. Why couldn’t the remaining snot nosed kids leave?

“Sienna?” I called out, panic rising to the top of my voice. “Sienna? Kiddo, where are you?”

It was my duty to protect her and I had failed.