Chapter 2 of “Sculpture of Our World”, a novel in the works.
Chapter 1: https://www.pearson-impressions.ca/post/the-highway
Synopsis: The World goes silent. The parents stop telling you to go to bed early, the alarms stop ringing in the morning and the news stations don't report anything anymore. Emese and Virág travel through this silence and care for each other.
CW: Implied suicide
We avoided cities and stayed strictly on the highway. The packed foods at gas stations made me want to throw up and pained both of us. So, I decided to drive out to the city, for the first time in a week.
We parked outside a Tesco, far from houses or apartments. Once we reached the automatic doors, I raised my crowbar and bashed the glass in. I hate having to do it a second time, with the inner doors too. It is bad enough having to break something so violently once. Virág caught up with me. The supermarket was dark without any windows or lights and smelled of moldy and rotten products inside.
“There is so little fun in doing this.” She commented, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Can we at least go to a mall next time?” I just rolled my eyes at her and got myself a cart.
I collected all the products for foods easiest to prepare and avoided going near the dairy, the fruits, or the meat section. I found that I developed a shopping routine in the gas stations, and felt lost in the huge supermarket. I still gathered things such as batteries, blankets, bottles of water, paper towels, and a tool set with all the essentials. From the corner of my eye, I saw Virág use a hammer to try to open a protective box, which held a mobile phone in it. She had been looking for one for a while, and although I didn’t approve of her obsession with it, I learned to let it go. There was no wifi available anywhere anymore, and the point of owning a smartphone was therefore lost, but she hasn’t given up.
I wandered to the books section. Touching the spine of books, browsing through the isles, and reading all the synopses were sensations I was familiar with ever since I learned how to read. Libraries were my gold mines, and the book slots on my library card were always full, sometimes making me use Bence’s card to borrow more.
Bence didn’t like reading as much as I did. He would always walk behind me, kicking the ground with his feet in his boredom, or go up to his friends in the library parking lot. We got in trouble for it many times, as the purpose of our visits was to tutor my brother. He didn’t do so well in school, and we were both selfish for avoiding the task. Now I wish I had spent those hours with math problems and unfinished essays.
I picked up two books and hid them in my backpack. One of them was a classic, The Little Prince, the only book my brother would ever actually read and enjoy. The other one I was unfamiliar with.
On my way out, I came across Virág, holding onto a cart that was filled with clothing, makeup, and electronic trinkets; things that are unnecessary for our survival. I sighed and approached her.
“You have to be kidding.” I held up a shirt with a flower pattern. “You already have clothes. And all the rest is unnecessary trash. ”
She groaned and pushed her cart away from me toward the entrance.
“How will all that fit in our car?” I argued, following her with my own cart.
“I don’t know? Maybe if we got rid of it and moved into an actual house, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.”
“You know we can not do that. I can’t go close to those buildings. You have to understand-”
“Understand what? That we’re just going to keep driving until one of us dies? Then we’ll have more space in that car?”
“I am trying my best to help our situation.”
“I’m tired. I haven’t showered in a week, and I can’t just keep using deodorant.” She whined and sat down on the ground and held onto the nape of her neck, bracing her elbows with her knees for support. Taking a good look at her for the first time in days, I recognized the sleeplessness in her sunken eyes. “We keep driving, and driving, and driving, and you’re not even telling me how long it’s gonna take and what we will find there. God, and you’re so silent when you’re sitting behind the wheel. You know, you spent several days not speaking this week! It’s mental!”
“The car seats are uncomfortable, I had enough of eating nuts and instant mashed potatoes for lunch. I want an actual bed, actual food, and an actual, worthwhile fucking life.” She cried out and covered her face in her palms.
She broke into a sob. I stayed speechless for a second, before deciding to put all the groceries in the trunk. She stood up and surrendered herself to the backseat of the car. After closing the trunk, I sat in the driving seat and turned around to face her.
“We can take a detour and we can try.” I said, to which she looked up with teary eyes. She was sitting with her legs on the seat, hugging herself with her arms. “We can try and look for a house with a gas stove and cook something good with what I’ve found. If we’re lucky, we can sleep in a bed too. Does that sound okay?” She nodded.
For the first time after a week, I was driving toward the city, hoping for the best. The silence that welcomed us after parking in someone’s yard gave me the chills. It was the kind of silence that made you suspicious, made you think there was something sinister happening.
I used my crowbar to force the front door open and let us inside. Walking past the hall with its coat rack and stack of shoes, we found ourselves in a spacious living room with an open wall to the kitchen and dining room. I approached the stove but found an electric one that would not turn on. I cursed to myself and noticed Virág staring into a different room that opened from the living room.
I approached her right when she stepped in, but she gasped and rushed back out of the room right away. I could hear her vomiting behind me, but all I could do was stare at the man laying in the middle of the room. He was at the end of a bed in what looked like a master bedroom. He had bottles of medicine scattered around him. The view made my stomach twist relentlessly. I recognized a note on the desk and took it. I felt nauseous as I saw the rushed calligraphy and the words entailing what this man had gone through, the pain of waking up to his dead wife and son, and the torture of the week that followed, with how lost he felt alone.
He lived a happy life, as I noticed from the family photos that were laid out all over the desk. Glancing at the bed, I saw the figure of a person tucked under the covers.
“He survived the wave, didn’t he?” Virág asked from the living room. She was sitting on the floor, holding her head in her palms.
“Yes.” I placed the note back on the desk. We found him too late.
I joined Virág in the living room and closed the bedroom door behind me. I noticed the door across the living room, decorated with stickers of animals and letters that spelled “GERGŐ”.
“Just…” I started and looked at Virág. “Don’t go into the other room, okay?”
She looked up in the direction of the door, and slowly turned back to me, her face white and sick.
“Are you serious?”
I helped her up. She was holding onto her stomach, and I knew she was fighting the urge to throw up more. “I can get you medicine. Let’s just go back out.”
She nodded, with a painful expression on her face. It got dark outside, and she entered the car without saying a word. I knew she felt defeated after this attempt.
“We can try again tomorrow.” I offered, but she turned to face away from me and slammed the door shut.
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