2,347 Days

2,347 days is how long the world has been incomplete and total lockdown.

It had all started when an irrelevant virus broke out in Australia. It looked like it was under control until one day, the government announced we needed to go into lockdown. No one listened at first, but then they put out an order to stay inside at all times, and those who dared defy it would get killed on sight.

After that everyone listened. The authorities organized a food delivery every other week. The system was crude and many people starved. After a few months, the government recalled any personal electronics, except for one telephone and one television per household. A few months after that, the tv limits were only the government-sanctioned channels. They put out daily updates and -on rare occasions- a Saturday cartoon. The cartoons didn’t last for long either.

Day after day, week after week, everyone locked inside their houses. The population was dropping faster than it ever had. When school let out for good, I passed my days staring out the window, looking at where people used to roam. The sunrise and sunset was the only thing that stayed constant in my life. Until they took that away too.

I remember the broadcast so clearly. It was about three years into quarantine. “This is your government speaking. A recent development in the Secubtio Virus has brought us some very unfortunate news. The biggest Secubtio medical research facility in the world, located in Almaty, Kazakhstan was the target of a nuclear warhead. Upon contact, all life-extending as far as eight kilometers away perished. The radiation extends 300% more than that. That isn’t the worst of it. The Secubito virus, known for being in rare types of smog and air pollution, only found in certain areas. When the facility exploded, billions of samples of that gas went up with it.  It is spreading through the atmosphere at a rapid rate, bringing the virus with it. Engage the complete lockdown protocol every home is equipped with. If the system fails, you will die.”

We scrambled to get our house into lockdown. The power shut down, and in a blink of the eye, a blackout spread as far as the eye could see. I frantically switched the lockdown protocol on, and by some miracle, it sputtered to life. The outside world that I used to stare at as my only escape snatched like candy from an infant. Thick, impenetrable sheets slithered across our home. Within minutes, our house was a fortress, with nothing able to go in or out.

My mother tried to call our neighbors or anyone at all for that matter, but the phone lines had stopped. What was left of my family huddled on the couch and awaited any more news.

We waited for three days. Finally, our television sputtered to life. The usual grey screen and the robotic voice began. “Hello, Le- Leben household. You are the last known humans in a thousand-mile radius of the North A- American Government headquarters. Your system short-circuited and caused your house to go into lockdown when the others couldn’t. You still could be exposed to the virus at any moment you step outside, so stay in your home. If you leave, you will die.”

I remember the shock running through my veins like ice. It was set in what a hopeless situation we had gotten into. No one within a thousand-mile radius? That’s everyone I’ve ever known and loved gone. In an instant, the whole world had changed.

I had little memory of the month after that announcement. My family floated through existence, with no sense of what was real and what was not. We had never been through something like this.

The time flew by and government visits dwindled more and more. They airdropped one giant package every few months. Sometimes, they would send out a broadcast but those became few and far between too.

It’s been hard to adjust to being so completely alone. It’s been two years, and still no developments to the Secubito Virus. I’ve lost any hope I had for my future. I can't even remember what school was like.

The clock on my wall read 5:09. While I was walking downstairs, my thoughts churned more and more. A mass of dark clouds gathered in my brains, formed by memories and hatred. It grew bigger and bigger through my dinner of beans and rice. How perfect that my last meal is the same tasteless “nonperishable” meal I’ve been eating for six years.

I ran from the dinner table and flopped onto my bed. I clutched the old mp3 player my dad had fixed for me before he died. The usually calming collection of my dad's favorite songs seemed demoralizing and sad. Tears flooded my eyes and threatened to flood over the edge.

The walls closed in and I felt like a speck of dust floating through the air. My lungs couldn’t get enough air, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking and my room was inundating. I saw the outline of what used to be my window and hyper-focused on it. It seemed to be leering at me, taunting me with the outside I could never see again.

I realized what to do.

I made sure my door was completely sealed, wrote a quick note to my family, and shakily approached the window. My unsteady hand reached out, ready to see the world one last time. The virus had a 100% fatality rate, and it would be a matter of hours with the sheer mass of it in the atmosphere. One last press of a button and I’d be free.

I smashed the button down. My window started to reveal itself, the loud metal clanking as it retracted into the ceiling. A single sunbeam began to make itself known.

I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and opened the window.

I could feel sunlight on my face for the first time in a long time. The last of my tears trickled down my red, blotchy cheeks. I opened my eyes. The bright rays of the sun made me sneeze. I laughed to myself bitterly, no one else could share this moment with me anyways.

The soft material of my shirt flowed with the breeze, my feet hurt from the cold metal of the roof below, but I stood up anyway. This is exactly how I want to go.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice nearly made me slide off my roof. I turned my head in trepidation. I hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t my brothers or moms in years. Was this some sick joke from the government to punish me?

Instead of an emotionless robot or wireless speaker facing me, two blue eyes were looking back. A single tear rolled its way down their cheek. It wasn’t a government drone, it was a person.

“They told me everyone died.” She said. “They told me that my brother and I were the only ones left.” She raised her hand over her mouth in shock.

I mirrored her shocked expression. I could barely remember her and her family. They never came to the neighborhood barbeques we used to have, but we must have talked at some point. She had gone to my school, but what was her name?

“Wait. Why are you out here, won’t you be dead by morning like me? How could you be so stupid?”

She merely blinked at my accusations. “I come out here every night. Nothing’s come of it yet.”

“You should be dead- the virus should have killed you!”

“Well.”

I glared at her. “What do you mean, ‘well’. What is happening right now, I feel like I died.  I guess the afterlife is arguing with your annoying neighbors for eternity.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well- clearly I’m not dead from the virus yet. I’m pretty sure you’re not dead yet, either.”

My mind started racing again. This changes everything. For starters, we are not the last people left. The girl sitting five feet away from me squinting at my panicking is telling me otherwise. Is this virus even real? Is the government trying to cover something up? What are they trying to cover up then?

She cleared her throat. “Are you done yet? If we’re both real, which we’ve established by now, we are, we have a lot of work to do.”

I stared at her, incredulous. “How are you completely fine with this! The government-if they’re even real- has been lying to us about probably everything, and you’re just cool with it? I mean what does the-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. What’s your name again? Mine is Star.”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. She- Star, kept her gaze even with mine. “I’m Kahra.”

Star smiled at me. “Nice to meet you, again.”

“Star?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s get to the bottom of this.” I smiled. I glanced at my clock again. Midnight. 2,348 days.