Connie
I wasn’t planning to use my flight ticket, but it was necessary to rebook it so that Dad wouldn’t get suspicious. Since he was so quick to accept the change of plan, albeit a bit hesitant, the least I could do was try to calm him down and let him think that two days after his flight we’d all be together again, ready to conquer New Zealand!
Was it really only a month ago that I had met Mark for the first time? It felt longer. So much had happened already. Breathing was growing difficult; I’d started waking up during the night because of chest pains. I was constantly tired and drowsy. A part of that was obviously because of The Collective, but the treacherous cancer was also taking its toll. I suppose the illness would have been on my mind a lot more if I weren’t so terrified of the upcoming plague injection.
I packed with great care so Dad wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He would certainly find it strange that I was stuffing Ruby’s suitcase with several family albums, clothes for all seasons, a generous amount of medication for children and adults, covering most common illnesses, and my mum’s recipe book. It was one of the few things I had left from her. It was just a dirty old notebook that she used to note down recipes, its corners oily from being turned by hands covered with butter. But it belonged to her, and it was precious to me. I was sure Dad would have liked to have it with him.
Time was sprinting past us like crazy. It was almost unbearable to keep the pretence of our work and home routine, when the only thing I wanted to do was spend all my time with Dad and Ruby. I started having doubts whether not telling Dad about the upcoming world events was the right thing to do. If given the choice, would he have done something differently?
But even if I could go back in time, I would have done the same, I knew that for sure. There was no way I’d make Dad panic, or face the urge to go to the police. His and Ruby’s safety–and mainly survival–was the absolute priority.
I’d written the letter for an unknown stranger according to Mark’s directions, and to let go of some of my doubts and guilt, added another one for Dad. Mark may not have asked me to do that part, but it’s not like I had to do everything according to his instructions!
Time.
There was so little of it!
I was counting down to two big events. Ten days until the plague release, twelve until Dad and Ruby’s flight. After that my world would stop. But I still had days to steal away every possible moment with my family!
Another week before I get the injection, I thought to myself.
Five days.
Two days. I’ve barely taken a breath and a whole day is gone!
One more day!
I wasn’t even really aware of how I’d gotten there, but some spontaneous drive had pushed me into the Association lounge on the big, dismal day. Every single member was as white as a sheet. Some were pacing around the room and shaking, others were standing absolutely still, their eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the moment when Molly, their doctor, came in with the dreaded injections.
Now that the end was at their fingertips, were they yearning for it quite as much as all those years ago, when they’d eagerly agreed to join The Collective? I realised that the Perth branch was here in full count, so apparently they were…
I ignored the excruciating tension in my chest and problematic breathing. Could it be another panic attack?
It took me a moment to realise that Mark was standing by my side, holding on to me again. Not like last time, when he was trying to stop me from collapsing. This time his arm was curled around my shoulders. It’ll be alright, his gesture seemed to say.
But nothing was going to be alright.
Molly came in, holding onto a suitcase so tightly that her knuckles were white. This one was a lot bigger than the one Mark gave me. The doctor placed it on a conference table and as if on some morbid impulse everyone gathered around it to see what was inside. To look at the thing which will bring destruction to their lives and to the whole world.
“I’ll let you choose your injection,” Molly said in a tight voice.
With a great deal of hesitation, everyone reached into the suitcase. I wonder if this is how cattle feel on the way to the slaughterhouse. I’d seen enough documentation of animals in lines by the slaughterhouse, standing in puddles of blood and wailing with fear. There was no way back, only forward. I’d always empathized with them, felt sorry for them, cried over their suffering, but only now did I understand the full weight of it.
I’d chosen my injection and handed it numbly to the doctor when it was my turn. Those she’d already given it to were either standing in a quiet circle nearby, crouching in the corner of the room in tears, or leaving.
I stopped being aware of my surroundings and concentrated on Molly. With a practiced movement she tied a rubber band around my upper arm and then placed the needle to a vein, visible under my skin. My ears were ringing and my stomach was turning over in wild somersaults.
