It’s five years later and the world’s still under quarantine. 2025: grand. The world is different. Cities are abandoned, trees are bare, skies a never-ending gray, and the earth was silent for once. Waves of coronavirus infected everyone; at least 3 people you know have died—the government demanded death in order to control the population. Fewer people obviously meant less infection.
Memories of life before the virus have been wiped away through a required routine. School, sporting events, jobs, freely living life—it’s gone. The government managed to brainwash us via a flashing ad strictly following the guideline: don’t leave your home under any circumstance. It was looped regularly on television screens.
Windows were forced to be sealed shut, but I kept a crevice no wider than a nickel. Waves of construction fumes occasionally trickled in, which is funny because nothing’s been built for years. The sound of rhythmed basketballs thumping the ground pierced my ear—the only disruption breaking the world’s silence. Two youth-filled boys mindlessly hit and smacked and pounded their dusty basketballs before they collapsed, followed by a bang. The thumping died down; they were shot on sight. And lately, that’s been a lot more common.
The government gave up assuring everyone’s sanity; they shot everyone disobeying the guideline. I was living with my mom, only my mom. She wouldn’t tell me what happened to Dad and my two other siblings. Her hair grayed a lot since the last time I remembered, and it was no longer shoulder-length, the way it had been her whole life. Her voice creaked, her complexion resembled dry sand, and her eye bags could pack month’s worth. A rotten stench filled the room.
“We’ll be okay,” she muttered. I wonder if she ever thinks about leaving. Leaving me behind--leaving Earth. All her worries would perish. But I know her gentle heart wouldn’t dare leave me alone.
Another bang shook the walls. This time, followed a little girl’s scream. It lasted for about three seconds. My mom’s eyes seesawed between me and the sealed window.
“Go to sleep, sweetie,” she sighed.
“But it’s 3 in the afternoon—”
“Go,”
It felt as if only a blink went by before a breeze lifted my eyelids. There, I saw the abandoned cities, bare trees, skies a never-ending gray, the Earth’s silence, and my mom, hugging my arm. That fresh breath of air we all needed after days inside, was gone. Adrenaline spun my neck to identify a bright dot, about the size of a nickel, darting towards us. Followed, a deep bang.