I didn't forget about the sounds that woke me up at night. If I think about the wardrobe I remember that terrible smell. I still want to go down through the chimney and have for thousand and one questions I want my dad and mom to answer. I wait for the right moment. Something changed. I feel it. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with me.
I spend more time in my cabin. At first, I didn't care. The notebook keeps me company and I sleep too. After late breakfast, we all take a nap. Mom said our brain needs it after work. One hour work means 10 minutes in the cabin, taking rest. We used to sleep or relax. Once the cabin is closed the sound of nature can be heard. Not from outside but inside of the cabin. The wind, sea, birds or honey bees. The little busy flying insects my dad named me after. They look nice and soft on the screen but mom says they can be dangerous. If they use their pin it hurts and they can kill you and they die. Will I die if I touch someone? Will a person die if I do? Dad and mom can hug me and I can hug them. We are alive, still alive. What if I am a killer? What if that's the reason why we never go outside? Can it be I am a killer, a honey bee even I don't look like one?
"Bees don't make honey dear," dad said, "that's what humans did. They made it out of the bees storage. They saved it for them but we humans took it. That's why they died and with them many flours and trees did."
I'm not sure if dad is right. He loves to joke around. Perhaps it's a story. Perhaps someone made it up. A story is easily told. Some people believe everything. Does mom believe it too? I am not sure. As I looked at her she had an expression on her face I saw before. For a moment I thought she doesn't like dad at all.
My cabin feels safe though so I stay here till the alarm goes off. Mom looks forgetful lately. It's not that long ago she wanted me to cook. I felt frustrated and yelled at her but it was easier than I thought. I think I can cook now. If I need to I can make a fire too. I can recognize the old forgotten food and know how it tastes. I can open the cans and jars and use a knife. I know some recipes by head even those with ingredients we don't have. Mom explained some are made of plants, others come from animals. Like eggs and milk and butter. An egg sounds yuck to me. I mean a bird pooped it out! It was somewhere hidden inside of it and it grew. It was meant to be a baby bird. The yellow part should be. If you ask me it's disgusting to crack an egg and eat what is inside. Mom said it's because I am not used to it. What we eat as a small child we'll always like and find normal. Does this mean I will always like tube food most? It is what they gave me for the biggest part of my life. Now they want me to eat different things. First out of the delivery box next to what's down in the pantry. Thinking back the change of food is where it all started. Different food, the cooking and saying I can't stay alone for the rest of my life.
I listen to what they call the sea. I listen to the waves hear the wind and it all comes with a salty breeze. It's not my favourite smell but I like it. I hear a voice sing. It's human not a bird or the singing of the wind. How come I never heard that before? I close my eyes and tell myself it's fine to sleep. I don't need to be anywhere. The doubts I have can wait. Later when the alarm goes off there's time to ask. I can wait.
The alarm goes off! It sounds different, more like a siren. It wails and wails. I try to cover my ears with my hands. The lights are off, no sound of the sea, no calming scent, my cabin is closed.
"Honey bee," dad shouted while he knocked on my cabin and tried to open it, "can you hear me?"
I heard him but wasn't sure if he could hear me through the noise the alarm made.
"Blackout! It's a blackout! Stay calm I get you out of here!"
Dad saying he would get me out comforted me. I tried to ignore the noise and touch it next to me. The diary, I would protect it, keep it with me once dad took me out.
It wasn't dad but mom's face I saw as my cabin was opened. She wrapped her arms around me while she told me not to let go of her. I clung to her like a baby while ignoring the pain the notebook caused my belly. The sound of the alarm fainted away. As I opened my eyes I was back in the pantry.
"Come with me," mom whispered while she quickly walked to an opening in the wall I had never seen before. "Get in there."
I did as she told and stood in a small room furnished with everything a family needs and there was light. Light from candles, the smell of ancient sticks, incense. Dad smiled as he saw my face.
"Everything you need, we need is here. Welcome in the bunker dear."
I sank on the nearest bed. A bunker? What was a bunker? Dad seems to read my thoughts and smiled.
"It's over hundreds of years old. A bit changed during the last century. Once it was a panic room."
"A panic room," I asked puzzled, "you mean for the feeble-minded?"
"No, dear for times in need," mom said. "It's the place where you can survive. It's a bomb shelter, a panic room, an escape way today if needed." She paused and studied my face. It was as if all those pieces of the puzzle came together and showed me the picture. A complete picture they already had seen.
"You knew about the blackout? You knew it would happen?"
"It happened before. The blackout will take several weeks. Once it's over they come."
"They? Who are they? Do you mean there are feeble-minded left? They come after us?"
Mom and dad looked at each other. It was a quick look.
"No, not the feeble-minded...."
"We made a mistake, I made a huge mistake," dad said. "We don't know if they are still alive but their mind... their mind is fine. There's nothing wrong with these people. That is if they are still around. If they are somewhere out there."
Tears welled up in mom's eyes as she looked at dad.
"Thanks for saying this."
He hugged her and left us behind.
"What will happen to us?"
"We'll wait and if the time is right we get out of here. Each blackout will last longer. It will kill us, all of us. We are so used to technology. To others taking care of us. We have to take responsibility for our own life, security, the things we do. Do you understand me?"
I nodded but wasn't sure if I did. I missed my cabin. Was I ready for this.
"Who will come after the blackout mom," I asked after mom poured me some tea.
"The sweepers will. They remove all the dead bodies... the bodies they can find. They check those left. If they are registered, the chip, if you have the right to live..."
She seemed to be in thoughts and kept rubbing her hand. I couldn't imagine what those sweepers looked like, what other people looked like, how death looks like. I touched the red spot at her hand. It felt as if there was something in it. Something I was sure I didn't have. I cuddled against her and waited for the moment I could ask her: What is a chip and do I have it?
Part 1: What's cooking
Part 2: Stretching
Part 3: Monsters
Part 4: Quilty
Part 5: The pantry
Part 6: Trash
Part 7: A good life
Part 8: If you ever read this
#nanowrimo #kittywu #freewrite #story #november21
