Short fiction by Jan Chaffin

November 20, 2020

“The pandemic has reached another gruesome milestone today with over five hundred thousand new cases in the U.S and over twenty thousand new deaths… And now for your morning recap: unseasonably warm weather continues, wildfires burn out of control, curfews are still mandatory and Holidays have all been cancelled until further notice. This is Veronica Salas wishing you a very happy Friday!” 

I flick off the tv, grab a mask and head outside to see if I can breathe the hot ashtray air.  Two more yellow balls of flame sputter from either side of a nearby utility pole. They fall to the ground in hissing arcs like broken fireworks. Yesterday, Customer Service explained “that’s normal for cool, foggy days”. 

A buzzing white drone nearly clips my roof as it prepares to deploy next week’s rations. Known to miss targets, I duck back inside until I hear the reassuring thud of a delivery only barely off its mark. I dash back out and grab my food before it’s stolen. Long gone are the days of standing in grocery lines, shopping at stores, eating at restaurants.

At some point, everyone had given up hope of things returning to normal. Flinching less at every blow, we almost enjoyed turning the other cheek. I grab my keys and dead bolt the door. I’ll need gas to drive into the smokey forest I’m paid to watch burn.

Just in time, I close the car door before the water tankers let loose for an emergency pour over. Wouldn’t want a dowsing or worse.

It has been weeks since I’ve seen another person up close, yet out of habit, I still check my face in the car mirror before departing.  I usually only see dying birds and bugs at work.

I don’t even know who is still alive unless they text. We don’t text each other much because not too much happens. We stopped chatting and zooming our sad sameness.  Without hope, nothing changes, Without change, there is no hope. Which comes first? Who cares. Not even sure why I’m writing this.

My work week is Wednesday through Sunday. I count down the days until Monday then the hours until Wednesday and start all over. I don’t care that I don’t care. There are no plans to make or people to see, no dogs to walk or cats to try and feed.

There never was a vaccine that worked so we all take daily mood levelers to calm our anxiety. The drug ads cleverly remind us : ”Where there’s caring, there’s despairing”. 

Can’t remember the last time I cared. Oh yeah. It was the day my cat died. There were still a few Vets and Doctors and we still thought there was hope. I tried skipping a dose to see how I felt. Cried all day while digging his grave. Won’t do that again.

We all eat, sleep, dose, work, suffer and die alone now. That’s just the way things are.  I start my car and drive away.