Durham: I find it abandoned.
Two weeks into my journey, I finally make it to the small yet famous village.
And it's empty.
Empty of people, empty of bodies. And food.
I stand in the square and examine my surroundings, something I'm somewhat of a master of. They too lack damage from the war and devastation from the plague. I begin to wonder whether there's a connection, between the train stations and this town. But then I realize maybe the locations where too small to be targets?
It doesn't matter now.
What matters now...I don't know.
There's no one here, and every building is empty. Like a group of survivors lived here but then packed up and left. Yet I decide to check my grandparents house: just in case.
Crossing the river, I can see the large church towering over the town houses and trees. It was one of the many magnificent sights my civilization had to offer. I feel guilty when I realize no one might look upon it again for decades. And if they do, it will be in shambles.
I discover my grandparents house unlocked, and stocked with food. Spoiled: but it means someone was still living here before they...
I hike up the stairs, wary. I can already smell it. With the air just as empty of scent as the streets of Durham are, the smell of death permeates and dominates. The door creaks open as I push it aside. At least they died together, in bed, as they would have wanted. Holding hands. Smiling.
I can only imagine my parents where here not but days ago. No wait....it's been weeks. And this house was preserved from my parents final visit here. I could imagine it now. They found the door unlocked, and entered. Fresh food was sitting on the dining room counter, never going to be eaten. They travel upstairs, together, and find my grandparents alive, but sick, in bed together.
My mother starts to cry, my grandfather gives instructions to my father. My grandma tries to inspire my mom, and she gives them her last goodbyes before rushing to make the "1500 Durham-Edinburgh".
I close the door, letting my grand parents sleep peacefully in their resting place, then I leave, and lock the door.
And I slide down against the door, and start crying.
I don't care if raiders or cannibals find me, if they are even alive. I don't care if I'm the last person on Earth. I miss Katie and her sarcasm. I miss my grandmother and her flowers, my grandpa and his stories. I miss my parents, who might as well think I'm dead, or vice versa. Why did I leave my house? They could be on their way now, or have already arrived, and found the house destroyed. They think I'm dead. I know they do.
Who am I kidding?
They are dead. I'm a fool to hope they aren't. Everyone's dead. The governments, the anarchist, religious, atheist, right winged, left winged, teachers, students, the poor, the rich, builders, destroyers, doctors, lawyers, famous or unknown, vegetarians, carnavours, cowards, heroes. Musicians. Friends. Family.
The cold chips away at my body, signalling night is coming. I stand up, shaking. I walk effortlessly in a direction I have no idea I'm going. My stomach growls angrily, deprived of it's needs. I'm loosing track of time. It's full on dark now. I don't care. I just wanna die. I want a car to just come swinging around the corner and run me over, as long as i's quick.
And that almost happens.
I barely get a warning when I see the headlights before the car jets around the corner and come racing at me head on.
Some unconscious representative within me decides I want to live, and so I jump out of the way as the car just as it nips my heals and comes crashing to a halt.
I feel the trickle of blood running down my head, but I concentrate on the recognizable slamming of a car doors and an angry woman...no....girl...marching towards me.
"Are you mental?" She screams.