#oneaday Day 654: Wasteland Diaries, Part 2

I’m not sure how long I slept, but unlike when I’d awoken previously, this time I felt somewhat refreshed. The building I was in was still almost completely pitch dark, but I could see a glimmer of light coming in from around the doorframe.

I pulled open the door and let in the daylight. The sun was up and the sky was blue, with barely any clouds to be seen. A light breeze was blowing, but it was clear that today was going to be a warm day.

I considered stepping out into the heat of the day, but paused for a moment on the threshold before turning back into the building to investigate further. I’m not sure what made me do this — maybe I caught a glimpse of something, maybe I heard something, perhaps it was just an irrational feeling I had, without any reasonable explanation. But I felt it was important. There was something here.

Even with the light of the day coming in through the front door, the corridor I was in was still dark. I had to feel my way along until I came to a staircase leading upwards. I tentatively placed a foot on the first step — it creaked, but it seemed to bear my weight just fine. Little by little, I gingerly crept up the stairs, hoping with each movement that I wouldn’t find the one rotten board and fall through, causing myself injury.

When I made it to the top, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was still dark, but I could see a hint of light coming from somewhere — under a door, perhaps? I felt my way through the oppressive darkness towards the light and fumbled around on the wall. It was indeed a door, and if I could just find the handle I could–

My hand hit the sweet spot unexpectedly and pushed the door open a little harder than I’d intended. I stumbled forwards and the door banged against something inside the room. Light was coming in through a window in the room, bringing some much-needed illumination to the gloom of the rest of the building.

Much of the room was still bathed in shadow but I could see enough to tell that it was a bedroom. A metal-framed bed stood to one side, its covers messed up. I mentally kicked myself for not investigating the building further and finding somewhere more comfortable than the hard floor of the corridor to rest, but it was too late now.

I quickly retracted my self-beratement when I realised that the rucked-up covers were not just rucked-up covers, but that there was something underneath them. Hands trembling with anticipation at what I might find, I slowly pulled back the duvet to reveal what appeared to be a sleeping woman, lying there on her side.

I let out a sharp breath. I wasn’t alone. This woman was here. But she was — what? Asleep? Dead? I wasn’t sure. She certainly wasn’t moving, and there was no sound of breathing. She clasped something in her hand, but I couldn’t see what it was.

“Uh, excuse me?” I said. My voice cracked. It felt like a very long time since I had used it. “Excuse me?” I said again, clearing my dry throat.

There was no response from the woman, who just continued to lie there. Although she wasn’t moving or making noise, she didn’t look dead, either. Her cheeks were still flushed with colour, her skin was still smooth, and there was no sign of decomposition anywhere. Was she dead, or just sleeping?

I looked her up and down, feeling slightly dirty and voyeuristic while doing so. She was a slender woman of I’d guess about thirty years of age. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders but was obviously unkempt and unstyled while she lay in the bed. She was dressed in a black satin nightgown with small, thin straps which ran over her shoulders and then crossed over her back in an attractive pattern. She was good-looking, to be sure, but her pleasing appearance didn’t stop the lingering feeling of unease I had.

I reached out to grab her by the shoulder and shake her gently, then paused for a moment. What would I say? Being rudely awakened by a strange man shaking her was probably not how she wanted to start the day. On the other hand, it was possible that she was in the same position as I was — bereft of memories, feeling that she was alone, wondering whether life was still worth living.

I steeled myself and moved my hand to touch her. As soon as my fingertips made contact, however, I drew them sharply back with a horrified intake of breath.

Before my eyes, at my touch, the woman crumbled to dust, a cloud of which simply blew into the air and scattered around the room, as if she’d never really been there at all and I’d just been beating on a dusty old mattress.

Had I imagined it? My mind had certainly been playing tricks on me recently with the voice — Adam, I miss you, it said over and over in moments when I needed clarity of thought — but had I hallucinated the existence of the strange woman?

Then I saw it on the bed. A small black object — presumably the thing she’d been holding in her hand. It was a portable touchscreen phone. A white wire connected to the bottom of it at one end, and snaked off somewhere to the side of the bed at the other. I followed the wire and found it led to an electrical socket. I couldn’t tell from looking at it if it was still live or not, but felt it would be unlikely, given the surroundings.

My unspoken question was answered when the phone gave a soft buzz and its screen lit up, revealing a clock and a picture of a battery that appeared to be full. Curious, I reached out to pick up the phone, half expecting it to crumble to dust like the woman, but it remained reassuringly solid in my hand, but cold, like it had been kept in a fridge.

I pressed the only button I could see on the face of the phone. “Slide to unlock,” the screen said.

I obliged.