“Huh, what? Is something wrong?” he asked, shaking his head.
“They’re still there.”
“Who’s still there?” he looked around with a befuddled expression on his face.
“The zombies, Alex. They’re trying to break down the door. They haven’t given up,” Amy whispered.
Alex didn’t answer straight away. After a few seconds, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Where are we?”
Amy lost her patience and smacked him on the leg. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re in the basement, remember?” His face cleared, and he stood up so suddenly, she felt dizzy just by looking at him.
“I’d better see if the barricade is holding,” Alex said before jogging upstairs.
Amy didn’t move. She didn’t want to see.
After a while, Alex came back. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Just hit me with it,” she said.
“The barrier is standing strong. That’s the good news.”
“And the bad?” Amy asked.
“We’re still stuck down here.”
Amy resisted the urge to throw something at him. “That’s great. What do you propose we do now?”
“There’s nothing we can do, Amy. Nothing but wait it out.”
Amy sagged, and tears pricked her eyelids. “What if they never leave? What if they never grow tired?”
Alex sat down next to her and gathered her into his arms. “They will go away, I promise. All we have to do is keep quiet and not make any loud noises. After a time, they’ll forget all about us and move on.”
Amy didn’t know whether she could believe him or not, but it felt good to be comforted. They sat like that for several minutes, not saying a word, until Amy became aware of her full bladder. “Um, Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to pee.”
“Er, that might be a problem,” he said, standing up. “Let’s see if we can sort something out.”
Together, they went through the basement to look for a solution. Finally, Alex came up with an idea. It took a little work, but after a while, he had a rough toilet set up in the furthest corner of the room. “How’s this?”
With the use of old pallets, a plank, wood glue, and a bag of compost, he’d made a wooden box filled with a layer of compost. Glued over the top was the plank. Next to this on the floor, lay a stack of toilet paper ready for use. A piece of canvas tacked to an overhead beam formed a curtain for privacy.
Amy eyed it with a dubious expression. “How does it work?”
“Well, you sit on the plank with your bum hanging over the edge, and you do your thing into the box. Afterward, you wipe with newspaper and sprinkle a layer of compost over the top. There are one and a half bags left, so it should last a few days.”
“I guess I don’t have a choice,” Amy said.
“Not really,” Alex said, scratching his head. He pointed at a small table next to the makeshift toilet. “That’s for washing up.”
The table, a rickety antique, had a plastic bowl on top, along with a chipped cup, two toothbrushes, toothpaste, washcloths, a hairbrush, a broken piece of mirror, and a bar of soap. Next to it stood an empty bucket and a jug of water.
“It’s almost homey,” Amy managed to say with a faint smile. While it wasn’t luxurious, she was grateful to her brother. “Thanks, Alex.”
“We should go easy on the water, though. There’s no telling how long we’ll be down here.”
“Okay.”
Alex turned away. “I’ll leave you to wash up while I take stock of our supplies.”
“What about me?” Amy asked.
“You can find ways for us to keep busy. Games, books, anything.”
“I can try.”
“It’s important that we keep our spirits up, Sis. We can’t give up. Not now, not ever,” Alex said.
“I understand.”
Once her brother was occupied with his stocktake, Amy used the new toilet. It turned out to work reasonably well, and she was glad he’d thought of it. Afterward, she brushed her teeth and washed her face and hands.
It was warm down in the basement. Humid. There were no windows and only minimal ventilation from above. That meant the air soon felt stuffy, and it wasn’t long before she took off her hoodie and the jersey underneath. Dressed only in jeans, socks, and a t-shirt, she set about looking for something to keep them occupied.
There wasn’t much: Old furniture, gardening equipment, tools, newspapers, and a couple of dust-covered boxes.
Amy opened them and was surprised to find a wealth of old magazines. They were quite varied, ranging from a gun subscription to knitting patterns and fashion mags. “This should keep us busy for a while.”
“Find anything?” Alex asked.
“Just a few old magazines,” Amy replied, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She felt hot, and her cheeks were flushed. Fanning her face with a piece of cardboard, she asked, “Can I have some water, please?”
“Of course,” Alex said, handing her a bottle.
She downed the liquid in one gulp and gave the empty bottle back to him. “You should pee in that. It will keep the smell down and make the compost last longer.”
He took the bottle. “Good idea.”
“I’m going to lie down,” Amy said. “Call me if you need anything.”
Alex frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well, and my head hurts.”
“Remind me to have a look at those scratches later on,” Alex said.
Trudging toward the couch, Amy curled up on it and tried to rest. It felt like a drummer had set up shop inside her head, and she swore he was keeping the beat with the zombies. Bang, bang, bang, bang, over and over until she wanted to scream.
At one point, Alex offered her breakfast. A protein bar and a packet of nuts with another bottle of water. “Here, have this. You need to keep your strength up.”
“Thanks.” Amy forced herself to sit upright and eat the food, even though she wasn’t hungry. The water went down much more quickly, her parched tissues soaking up the precious liquid.
Alex sat across
