What it Takes to Live

“Micheal Davis, get your ass down here!” my brother Samuel calls me from the kitchen. I thunder down the stairs, my boots squeaking against the recently polished wood floor.

“You called?” I grin at him as he hands me dinner - a bowl of soup.

“Enjoy that. That’s all your gettin’ till Tuesday.” Sam sits down with a sigh.

“What about you?” I notice Sam is without a bowl.

“I’m eatin’ tomorrow. We gotta stretch the rations till the next sweep.”

I scowl. If the government put half as much money into the sweeps as they do the ridiculous ‘treatment’ plans for the infected, this whole thing would be over.

Seeing the look on my face, Sam backtracks. “Don’t worry about me, Mikey. We’ll get through.”

“Next sweep on Wednesday then?” I slurp up Sam’s delicious tomato soup, which made it through the rations with slight recipe alterations.

“Yeah. I want you to radio your Aunt Penny to tell her. She don’t listen to the news announcements half the time and I hate to think what would happen if she got caught in it.”

“What would happen?” I ask, curious. Sam never let me look outside during sweeps, but I’ve seen the infected spewing black foam, green liquid exuding from every surface.

“I just said, I hate to think.” Sam frowns. “Just be careful you don’t end up in one.”

“But what would it do?” I persist.

“I’d imagine it’d kill you. The chemicals are made to sweep infected, but I hear it obliterates anything living. It killed Old Ryan’s radish crop last month.”

Sam trots around the kitchen, cleaning the counters, dusting the lightshades and screwing the boards onto the windows a little tighter. I hate how old he looks. At just 24 years old, responsible for the house, the money, Aunt Penny and... me. I’ve felt guilty that he doesn’t get to be young since Dad’s been gone. He has an extra mouth to feed, an extra person to worry about in all of this.

“You wanna come with?” Sam asks, pulling me out of my daydream.

“Huh?” I look up from my soup.

“To the store. On Thursday. We can visit aunt Penny, make a day of it.”

“Is it safe?” I ask anxiously. “I mean, infection rate is pretty high right now.” We haven’t seen an infected in our district since January, but the memory still clings to me, stuck in my brain.

“No safer time than the day after a sweep.” Sam looks concerned. “You don’t have to come, if you don’t want.”

“I do. Just...” I trail off.

“I know. Trust me, ain’t nothing gonna happen to you while I’m around.”

I finish my soup and start for the stairs.

“Remember to radio Penny!” Sam calls after me.

I go into my room and flop onto my bed. I pick up the radio and go to Aunt Penny’s usual station.

“Aunt Penny?” No answer, just static. “Penny, you there?” Still nothing. She could be sleeping, I guess, but my stomach feels strange. She always answers the radio when it’s us. Always.

I sit at my desk, trying to find some paper through the mess. I search the floor next, then eventually find some on top of my wardrobe.

Dear Aunt Penny,

You weren’t answering your radio, so I’m writing you a letter. I hope everything is well and you have enough food and water. Sam and I know that you don’t listen to news announcements, so I’m letting you know that there’ll be a sweep on the coming Wednesday. If all goes well, you should expect a visit from us the following day. We’ll be radioing again tomorrow, so keep it on to ease our worry.

Sam sends his love.

Best wishes, Michael.

_____

I hadn’t written a letter since my last English class, at least two years ago. The day the sirens started. Just like every day, I start getting jittery. There’s only so many times you can read every book in the house. I sit on the windowsill and peek in between the boards of my window. No infected, just litter tumbling through the bare streets, a smear of something disgusting on the pathway and blocked-off houses. There had once been 12 houses on our street; now there is five.

My mind wandered back to Penny. She’s old, I tell myself. Old people sleep. She’s fine, she’s just asleep, or showering, or eating. Or dying.

“Mikey!” Sam’s voice pulls me up to the surface. I stand up, muscles aching from sitting on the sill, and lumber down the stairs to the living room, where Sam is pacing, wringing his hands nervously.

“What?”

“Radio just went off. There were sightings in our area, so the sweep is pushed to today. You better radio Penny.”

“She didn’t answer.” I say fearfully. Saying it had a sense of finality, like I was accepting that she wouldn’t answer. “I guess she could be sleeping, but...”

“Yeah, I mean,” Sam looks unsure, “she never listens to her radio anyway.”

“I wrote her a letter,” I hand him the sheet of paper.

“A letter? How is she supposed to get this?” Sam says sharply, annoyed. “You think the postman’s gonna go out in this? Use your head, Mikey.”

“Sorry.” I realised now the letter was useless, and it was too late to radio now. I could smell the chemicals, the sweep was underway. We’d just have to pray that Penny wouldn’t open any windows until tomorrow.

I sit onto the plush couch, sinking into the cushions, wishing they would swallow me whole. The sirens start going off, luring the infected to town centre, where the chemicals were strongest. The smell burns behind my eyes.

Sam sits down beside me, “Hey,” he takes my hand, “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, okay? It was real nice to think of writing a letter.”

“It’s okay,” I squeeze his hand, “It was a pretty dumb idea.”

Sam grins, “Let’s get to bed. We’ll go to the grocery store tomorrow, and check on aunt Penny.”

_____

The sunrise cracked through the window as Sam shook me awake.

“Up and at ‘em, Mikey,” he pulled me out of the bed. “10 minutes until we leave, okay?”

Still half-asleep, I feel around for some clothes. I grab a navy jumper and a pair of gray sweatpants. I slip on my boots and make my way down the stairs. I grab my backpack, the one I always take with me when we go outside. Sam takes an identical one and we go off into the street. He grabs his handgun on the way out.

The aftersmell of the sweep burned my eyes, my ears and my nose. I can’t stop coughing, a rough chesty cough that rattles my bones. Sam and I walk in silence, the same route we take every month for the past year and a half. Before that, Dad always went on his own.

After about an hour of walking, we reach the supermarket. Sam grabs the large plastic jugs of water, and I commandeer a cart. We put beans, pasta, rice, canned tuna, dried up vegetables and a bag of lentils. It seems like a lot for just Sam and I, but we give a third to aunt Penny, and it has to last us until next month.

“See if you can find something sweet,” Sam calls from across the store. “For your birthday. The big 1-5, you know? We gotta celebrate.”

I grin and get searching, eventually finding some honey nougat. I threw it into the cart and kept going, seeing if I could find something better.

Swoosh.

I freeze. Movement. Something, undoubtedly, had shifted to my right. “Sam?” I whisper-shout to the best of my ability.

“You alright back there?” He calls back, sounding nervous.

“Nope. There’s... something in here.”

Sam curses under his breath. I hear him load his gun. “A-alright, Mikey, listen to me. Step backwards, slowly, until you reach me. Got it?”

“Got it.” I start walking back, my eyes darting around to spot whatever had moved. I eventually collided with Sam.

“Okay,” Sam huffed, “You’re doing great. I’ve already pushed the cart out of the way, so I’m thinking we just back out and haul ass to get to Penny’s”

A deafening screech pierces my ears. The thing scurries to the right, blocking the door, and I almost vomit. I’ve never seen an infected up close, and I almost got sick. Her skin was completely green, leaving a trail of slime, and the black foam matted her hair. I gasp. Sam points his gun.

“Wait!” I cry. I look at the ragged clothes the infected is wearing. A pink sweater, with flowers on them. But not just any flowers. Sunflowers. Penny’s favourite.

“Oh God.” Sam exhales. My brain refuses to put it together. This isn’t her. It can’t be her. This monster isn’t my Aunt Penny. This was an infected, an unfeeling thing that smelled of rot and spewed slime.

“What do we do?” I whisper.

“I-I don’t know.” Sam whispers back. We’re at a stalemate. I know Sam won’t shoot if Penny doesn’t pounce. But then...

“I have to shoot her, Mikey.”

“No!” I look at him in horror. “Sam, we can’t. It’s Penny!”

“No, it’s not.” Sam looks pained. “That’s a monster.”

“Sam, no. You can’t kill you own aunt!” I’m shocked that Sam is even considering doing this.

“What other option do we have? She’s blocking the exit.”

Tears come to my eyes. “It’s wrong.”

Sam blanches. “It’s not about right or wrong. It’s about staying alive.”

Penny twitches and shakes. Sam’s hands shake so badly the gun wavers. She lunges for me. I scream. Sam shouts. We descend into chaos, Penny clawing at me as Sam tries to pull her off.

“No!” he shouts madly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam pick up the gun and attempt to aim at Penny, but we’re moving too much. He can’t shoot without the possibility of hitting me. With one last burst of strength, I push Penny with all of my might. She crashes against the aisle and I leap up. Sam pushes me behind him. The smell of rot and slime hit my throat as he locks his aim. Penny goes ballistic, clawing and scraping the floor. My eyes fill with tears. I didn’t want her to die like this, scared, shot. Sam gives me one last look as he pulls the trigger.

My ears ring. Sam lowers the gun, his hands shaking. I stare at the ground. I wouldn’t look. I couldn’t.

“I’ll... move her,” Sam says through tears. “So we can leave.”

My gaze remains on the floor as Sam drags her out of the way.

“We have to go, Mikey.” He says softly. “There could be more.” He takes my hand and we walk out of the store with the cart full of food. I kept looking back, unable to take my eyes off of the store.

“Mikey.” It’s my fault.

“Mikey.” If I’d just-

“Mikey!”

“God, Sam, what?”

Sam looks at me sadly. “It’s not your fault, okay?”

“We didn’t have to, Sam!” I burst out. “We could’ve ran, or been quicker, or, or”

“Or what?” Sam looks angry. “I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk you. There was no situation where I was willing to risk your life.”

“We didn’t have to!” I repeat.

“We did.” Sam whispers.

_____

“Mikey.”

It had been two days since the supermarket, and I still hadn’t said a word to Sam. He knocked on my door again.

“You don’t have to answer, kid, but I gotta say this. I know you’re mad about Penny. I get it. But you gotta cut me some slack here. What would you have done?”

I stay silent. I don’t want to admit that I probably would have given up. I’m not half as brave as Sam.

“You there, kid?”

I open the door to see Sam. “I’m sorry.” I choke out. He pulls me into a hug.

“We’re all we’ve got now. I love you, Mikey.”

“I love you, Sam.”