Chương 5: Brick and House

The truck rolled to a stop in the detached garage with a low, steady rumble. Scarlet killed the engine and stepped out of the truck. The low heel of her shoes thudded lightly on the smooth concrete. The late afternoon light filtered through the tree line beyond the clearing, catching on the clean lines of her tailored suit, on the polished edge of her glasses, on the faint shift of movement at her collar.

A small grey-and-white deer mouse crawled free from one of the gaps between the open buttons of her shirt and made his way up to her shoulder, settling there like he belonged. She stood there for a moment, letting the quiet and the calm energy of the forest lined clearing settle around her. It wasn't true silence, privacy or isolation, but compared to the city, compared to the convention, compared even to the traffic packed roads she'd left behind, it was a relief.

[45: 42: 02] Scarlet let her gaze sweep the property. It would do. The structure was good. The house itself was built in an era where homes were made to last. All old growth timber, and actual stone, not just facades. The house sat low and wide in the clearing, a large single-story build. A recent renovation saw the addition of huge floor to ceiling windows. More windows than she would have chosen. Long panes stretched along the outer walls to let in as much light as possible.

She'd not been inside since they were installed, but she assumed they probably showed a wonderful view of the surrounding landscape. It was as beautiful as it was a security risk. More windows just meant more ability for external surveillance, and more structural weak points to account for should something go wrong. Scarlet didn't dwell on it too much. Perhaps 'beauty is pain' referred to more than just the human body, because she knew all those windows would be a pain while organizing security and surveillance.

Beyond the house, the land stretched outward into thick, old-growth forest. The trees packed close enough together to form a natural barrier without feeling suffocating. They didn't crowd the space so much as enclose it in a perimeter that would keep most casual trespassers out. Somewhere behind that tree line, she could hear the faint, steady movement of water. That would be the creek running its quiet course just a short distance from the clearing. In an emergency, at least she had a water source.

To the back of the house and diagonally from the detached garage was the converted bomb shelter. It was partially hidden by a low rise in the land. The shelter itself was underground, its entrance concealed. Its frame was made of reinforced concrete. It was discreet, private, secure, and it was also the only reason Scarlet had bothered to come to this place in recent years. Scarlett's gaze drifted out towards that sanctuary for a moment before moving back to the house.

"Honestly, leaving this place to me might be the single decent thing the old man ever did for me," she said in a flat, observational tone. She paused.

"Outside of dying," she corrected. Nodding once, she stopped dwelling on it. She had other things to do, and urgently. Scarlet turned and surveyed the truck bed, pulling out a small notepad and pen her inner jacket pocket. The page was filled with neatly written lines of script. She scanned the page and began checking things off as she worked. Non-Perishables Medical Supplies Shop Tools Tech Equipment Sanitation Products Sanitary Products… Every item on the list got a small, precise check mark when she saw them.

There were a few things missing, but for the most part she had everything she needed. Once she was done with basic inventory she began unloading. It was slower than she would have liked, and her limp was more pronounced as she was forced to do most of it without her cane. However, she had already mapped out in her mind where each thing would go before she even pulled into the property. Moving more slowly was no excuse for inefficiency after all.

She was forced to enter the house to access the main breaker and turn on all the power. The bunker worked on its own independent power supply, and she'd added solar the year before, so this would be the first time she was entering the house since before the old man had croaked. She didn't linger in the place. That man haunted the halls like a stubborn poltergeist. She was only inside long enough to turn on the power, do a quick security sweep, then close every curtain and blind. The memories weren't the view.

Then it was back to work. She paused at the edge of the truck bed and looked at what remained to be moved. Canned goods. Non-perishables. Bulk supplies stacked heavy and high. Then wrapped in a cloth, then a blanket, then a tarp, before being anchored down by every strap she could get her hands on, was her 2022 Honda Forza 350. There was no way she was staying here without her trusty bike.

She rolled the two-wheeler down the ramp she'd attached to the truck bed and parked it away, then looked out to see the sun making its merry way past the horizon, gilding the forest in its ethereal glow. The beautiful natural phenomena was a strangely harmonious contrast to the neatly stacked boxes, the half-unloaded truck, and well-ordered environment of the multi-functional garage. Rubbing at her leg in a habit as ingrained as it was unhelpful, she took the moment to lean against her bike.

She watched out the opened garage door as the sun descended cycling through a myriad of colours before it finally sank past the horizon and the exterior lights automatically flicked on. [43: 55: 11] She turned her head just enough to glance at Maus. He looked back at her. They both looked at the stacks of things still waiting for her to unload and organize them.

"Yeah," she said after a moment.

"Let's deal with that later, shall we?" She asked, getting a sense of agreement from her mousy companion. It wasn't as if she didn't still have a lot to do. She brought out a separate list she'd made on her phone, checking off 'food', and 'tools' before turning her attention to the two lines that would be the most difficult to complete. Security Information Those were the major gaps.

Thankfully, she'd been able to pick up the drones on her way to the house, and the tactical gear she would grab from the pick-up depot tomorrow. The rest was not so urgent. Hopefully this whole apocalypse thing didn't begin with fire and brimstone, or an ice age or natural disaster of some kind. Her bespoke, tactical, tailored suit was still being manufactured. Something about nanotech that she'd have to read about when she had the time.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Ah, yes. Information. She needed untraceable sources of information, and in large volumes.

"I suppose we'll have to go raid a library." She paused. Looked at Maus who looked back at her.

"You're being awfully judgemental for a species known for theft. Besides they are public resources. Am I not a mostly tax paying citizen?" He shifted on her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes, then turned on her heel and headed back toward her truck, throwing a tarp over her remaining supplies before securing them. She was back on the road in moments. <-… -> The town felt different then it had when she'd first driven through it.

The atmosphere was thinner, somehow, like tension was beginning to wear away at the edges of everything. Few people lingered, and barely any cars were on the road. The air carried that same strained quality that had been a constant since the ' System Announcement'. That's what they were calling it in the news. Only unlike the first frenetic hours of the announcement the reality had been given the time to settle deeper. Now on top of the surface-level panic there was an palpable tension beginning to take root.

Scarlet didn't head straight for the library. Instead, she circled once, then cut her lights and circled again, navigating by streetlights. She slowed just enough to take in the surrounding streets, the nearby buildings, the few people. The town was one of those not-too-big, not-too-small places that were dotted like freckles along the coast of British Columbia. The library sat on the outskirts of the town.

When she finally stopped the truck, it wasn't at the entrance, but a short distance away, in a neighbouring lot. Once out of the truck she crouched low, her weight balanced, her presence minimized, her attention on the building. The overgrowth from a nearby hedge row gave her just enough cover to observe without being immediately obvious. [43: 10: 39] Contrary to all common sense, the library looked like it was still open. And it was almost entirely untouched.

The doors were intact, the windows unbroken, the interior dim but the front and entrance lights were on.

"Looks like there's no need for B&E." She told Maus, who was sitting on her shoulder. Scarlet's gaze shifted as she took in everything around the library, unbending slowly from her crouch. Then she froze. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end, and she knew with an uncanny certainty she sometimes got that she was no longer alone. Something behind her shifted. She felt the subtle change in the way space moved when someone entered your bubble. She didn't immediately turn.

Instead, she lifted her hand slowly and deliberately, then tapped lightly against her collar. Maus reacted instantly, slipping back down into the safety of her shirt. Okay, one worry down. She waited one more fraction of a second until she was sure whatever this was had committed. Then she moved. She pivoted sharply, her cane already in motion, the strike clean and instinctive.

It caught the man in the throat before he could fully bring his arm up, the impact stopping him mid-swing, and cutting off whatever action he'd been about to take. With a choked sound he stumbled back, clutching at his neck and dropping the brick he'd been holding in his previously upraised hand. His eyes were wide with pain and shock. Scarlet wondered if the expression on his face is what people meant when they said someone's eyes 'bugged out'.

She straightened slowly, her expression settling into something flat and, unimpressed. The man backed away, like she was going to go after him. She pressed her lips together at the sheer absurdity of the notion. With the departure of the lunatic, Scarlet waited a while for her heartrate to slow down. Maus helped, crawling back to her shoulder, and grooming the small lock of baby hair beside her ear.

"Thank you," she said as she reached up and lightly stroked the top of Maus's head. Maus shifted against her touch, turning into the caress so she could get more of him. She gave a small, almost indulgent tsk and turned back toward the library.

"Nothing like a spike of adrenaline before a library visit." She shook out her arms and strode forwards. <-… -> The doors slid open without resistance. Inside, the atmosphere felt much different from even the calm of the pharmacy the day before. This wasn't calm this was still, almost stagnant. There was something unsettling about being here. On the inner door she could see the library hours. They were supposed to close two hours ago, and yet…

Scarlet stepped inside, her cane tapping softly against the floor as her gaze moved across the space. The library was not empty, but it felt like it might as well have been. The shelves stood in quiet rows, the tables undisturbed, the back lights were off, and the usual low hum of activity was absent.

"Is this what the Twilight Zone feels like?" She murmured under her breath as she moved deeper inside.

"That quiet, liminal space between the shallows and the deep." She mused. She paused briefly to grab one of the baskets that were stacked neatly by the door.

"Any deeper and you reach a point of no return," she continued softly.

"Head back out and you rejoin whatever strange pseudo-reality we've all been dropped into." Maus was much more interested in continuing his grooming than her ramblings. Scarlet respected that. She moved through the shelves with purpose, pulling what she needed without hesitation. Survival manuals. Medical references. Agricultural basics. She had no clue what type of apocalypse this was going to be, but she was preparing for all of it. Engineering, botany and biology. Politics, philosophy and psychology.

Governance, geography, geology and ecology. Herbalism and astronomy and anything else she might need that she may no longer be able to access on the web, which didn't rely on systems she didn't understand or resources that might not exist in a day or two, like robotics or fibreoptics. Some fiction made its way into the basket as well. Luckily, she kept a decent collection in the bunker, so she didn't need to pick too many.

By the time she finished, she already had several baskets full of books by the door and she was holding two more. Her pace was slow, but with her cane tucked under one arm, and her gait uneven she was actually making fairly good time. Just a few meters. Then she'd drop the books, bring the truck around, load up the books and leave. She adjusted her grip and turned toward the exit prepared to do just that, when– Something moved. Scarlet stilled, then very cautiously turned her head to the side.

There was a man in the library. Had he been there the entire time? Of course, the librarian. He was seated behind the desk, so still and so unobtrusive that he had blended almost perfectly into the background. It wasn't that he had been hiding. It was that he hadn't really been present. The feeling he gave off was less like that of a person and more like that of furniture. Scarlet paused, studying him for a moment.

"You're open late," she said. He blinked slowly, as if surfacing from somewhere far away.

"I suppose I am," he replied after a moment.

"Lost track of time." Doing what? Scarlet wanted to ask. The guy had been sedentary for almost the entire hour she'd been in here. Instead, she nodded politely.

"Understandable," she lied. He gave a small shrug. There was a brief pause.

"Would you like me to check those out for you?" he asked, his voice a slow drone that fit his thin face and grey pallor. Scarlet adjusted her hold on the baskets slightly.

"Not particularly," she responded. He just shrugged again, as if he wouldn't have been bothered by any answer she gave him. That suited her just fine.

"Are you alright?" She didn't know what compelled her to ask. Instinct, she thought, and that was rarely wrong. The man finally looked at her. Really looked. Some life coming back into his eyes. Then he shrugged.

"Been a strange couple days." He shook his head, nodded, then shrugged.

"It's better, being here," he said. Scarlet wasn't exactly sure what that meant. She didn't know why she cared outside of the fact that this man felt off to her in a way she'd never experienced before.

"Will you be alright?" She asked.

"I live upstairs," he said. Scarlet nodded. Maus, who had at some point tucked himself back into her shirt, pawed at her collarbone. Time to go. Scarlet glanced down at the baskets, then back at the rows of shelves, then at him again. Neither of them said anything more as she walked out with both baskets and a mouse. Not even when the alarm went off. Outside, the air felt heavier than it had before. Scarlet stepped out onto the pavement, the weight of the baskets balanced carefully to help even out her stride.

As she slid into her truck she couldn't help flicking her eyes to the corner of her vision. There the timer ticked down, steady and unchanging in its descent. [41: 55: 55] Two nights and one day. That would be enough time to prepare. She'd make sure of it. Next stop; a pharmacy.