La Vie En Rose

     I walked down the same streets I walked down hundreds of times, saw the same buildings
and the same lights that’ve been on for god knows how long. And then I turned left at the same
dim lamppost and entered the same decaying apartment building.
    The radio was on and it kept playing the same song it always had, La Vie en Rose. I don’t
know when it started playing, but it hasn’t stopped since it did. Every time it ends there’s a few
minutes of silence, and then an old warning broadcast saying to not go outside, I stopped
listening to that a while ago. The days started to blur together a while ago. Before today I can’t
remember how recently I’ve eaten. Could be yesterday or could’ve been weeks. I genuinely
couldn’t tell you.
    Last thing that I saw that was alive was this little fox. I killed it. It was nice having meat
that wasn’t from a dog food can. It must’ve been months ago now. It tried to run off, I must’ve
looked like a savage with how I killed it, but who’s around to tell me that, Edith Piaf?
Speaking of her, that song plays in the streets too. I wonder if it was some sort of way to
calm the masses back when it happened. It feels like forever ago when it started. I’m sick of
being alone.
    I went to sleep that night, woke up and repeated the same exact cycle as always. I went
down the same roads to get to the same spot. A cliffside with a nice view of the water. There’s
this big aircraft carrier out there, but I’ve never been to it. Frankly I’m not sure why. It’s
probably just the matter of getting down from the cliffside. I’ll probably go tomorrow. I see no
reason not to because it’s not like I’d mind dying, or have anything else to do. It was nice not
having to hear the song.
    I like the sound of waves crashing. It’s a different sound than the constant music. Every
now and then some birds will make noises too. They’re so far away it’s almost hard believing
they’re alive. Sometimes I wonder if they’re alive the same way I am, and if they are, do they
recognize that they’re repeating the same steps daily? To me it feels like I repeat the same things
daily. Regardless, I went back the path I came. I walked down the same streets I walked down
hundreds of times, saw the same buildings and the same lights that’ve been on for god knows
how long. And then I turned left at the same dim lamppost and entered the same decaying
apartment building.
    I sat down on the couch and looked up at the ceiling and thought to myself
    “Will tomorrow really be the day I break the routine?”
    I wondered if I would even know what to do. I left once the shadow of my backpack hit
my right hand every day for god knows how long. What would happen if I didn’t? I had no clue.
    I decided to try to sleep while there was the brief silence between the announcement and La Vie
en Rose.
    That night I had a dream, I never have dreams. But in this dream it was very clearly me,
and a girl. She seemed around my age and had long blonde hair. She grabbed my hand and pulled
me towards the ocean. She wanted to look out to find a “white whale” like the old book Moby
Dick. We never saw one, so she and I walked away, and we followed my path and we walked
down the same streets I walked down hundreds of times, saw the same buildings and the same
lights that’ve been on for god knows how long. And then We turned left at the same dim
lamppost and entered the same decaying apartment building. Only to find a puppy waiting for us,
I almost felt the warmth of the puppy’s tongue on my face before I woke up .
I hated that dream.
    I walked through the town back to the cliffside again, but I didn’t get the peace I wanted.
The song was louder than before. Why is there even a french song playing around here? I felt
like it was a push to go to the aircraft carrier. Somewhere where I couldn’t hear that godforsaken
song was just about all I wanted at that point. Just something to break the monotony of everyday
being the exact same. I found what looked like a natural path down the cliffside, certain rocks
seeming like footholds almost meant for me to use. I made my way down and felt the heat of the
rocks on my gloved hand. It was warm, and I didn’t like it, but it was a new feeling so I can’t
complain. When I reached the sand below after several missteps that could’ve been my end I felt
accomplished. An odd feeling when there’s nobody left but you. I started towards the ocean and
felt the frigid water hit my feet.
    “Ahh.” I let out. My throat hurt after even the slightest noise. I haven’t talked because
there’s been nobody to talk to. It only hit me when I was right there how big the carrier was. I
even misjudged how close to the shore it was, I thought it was touching the sand but it’s actually
about 200 feet out. Not a problem really, swimming isn’t that hard.
    I took off the backpack and it felt like a turtle getting its shell removed. It was odd not
carrying around 20 pounds of useless survival gear. Why do I even bother carrying it around
anyway? Was it so I had my clock? My reliable right hand shadow? I haven’t used it in god
knows how long to actually carry something. Before I left I turned around to grab an old piece of
jagged metal in case there were any rabid dogs on the ship. I don’t want to see something and be
unable to kill it.
    As I waded into the water I saw small fish swimming around me, it felt weird, slippery,
like the inside of a chicken. It got to a point where standing with my head above the water was
difficult but I began to swim. The carrier was wedged firmly into place, but I climbed through a
rift into the hull. The darkness was unlike anything I’d seen since it happened. I had to remove
the goggles covering my eyes just so I could see. A bit of my once red hair fell into my face. It
looked more like a disgusting shade of brown due to the constant face covering and all the dirt
build up. I’m surprised I could even see it with the light or lack thereof.
    I made my way to a section that looked like it was once a bedroom and saw a few
skeletons. I’m just glad I got here after the rotting ended. Back when it happened there were
rotting corpses all over the street, but at least there were people. The loneliness has gotten so bad
I miss when I saw murders of crows eating what was once a little boy. At least then I’d see a
face, no matter how mangled. I broke all the mirrors in the apartment because I didn’t want to
see myself, not because of self hate but because I was tired of seeing nothing but my face and
imagining how long it’d take me to be like that little boy.
    Now every time I walk down the streets I see the same things. The same buildings and
the same lights that’ve been on for god knows how long, and I turn left at the same dim lamppost.
I’m almost tempted to go into another one of the buildings but I’m afraid of breaking routine.
What’ll happen to me when I break that routine? For all I know I might die, but would that be so
bad? I picked up the skull of one of the skeletons and it started to crumble a bit, so I put it down
and climbed out the broken window. Little did I know a barnacle would slice right through my
soaked glove & hand.
    “Ahh!” I screamed. If there was anyone left out there they definitely would’ve heard me.
I began to cough due to exerting my vocal chords. Blood came out soaking my face wrap & I had
to remove it. My mouth tasted like iron. It was worse than the dog food. I pushed myself through
the pain and sat on the slope until I stopped bleeding out of my mouth. My hand kept bleeding
but that was fine. I had some tape back at the rotting apartment to keep it from getting infected.
Being alone with only one hand would suck.
    I sat on the carrier for far longer than I’d sit at the cliff face. I started throwing rocks and
chunks of metal at these white birds. Most of the time they just flew off but one time one of them
exploded and I thought that was funny and laughed. It started to get easier to say words again,
but It was still rough, admittedly. Night fully came and I swam back to the shore and climbed up
and the song was going again. I made my way down the same streets I walked down hundreds of
times, saw the same buildings and the same lights that’ve been on for god knows how long. And
then I turned left at the same dim lamppost and entered the same decaying apartment building.
This time something was different though, because I felt excited for another day, despite the hand
& the song I could still go back to the carrier tomorrow.
    I woke up and made my way back to the carrier to see unfamiliar footprints in the sand. I
didn’t like that. It was okay because I was more focused and almost excited to go back to the
carrier. I don’t even remember the extent of what I did but I remember what happened when I
went home. With my day being over I made my way down the same streets I walked down
hundreds of times, saw the same buildings and the same lights that’ve been on for god knows
how long. And then I turned left at the same dim lamppost and as I nearly entered the apartment,
I noticed a figure in my window.
That’s impossible.
    I took my backpack off and pulled out the metal scrap and a flashlight. I walked into what
was the apartment I was staying in. I saw a dog at the top of the stairs, a German Shepherd if my
memory served. It looked to be sleeping so I took my makeshift knife and drove it through the
dog’s skull. Its blood was really warm. It didn’t even so much as let out a whimper after I
stabbed it.
    I kicked down the door to see someone wearing a white sweatshirt. The person tried to
turn around but before it could I rushed at it with my knife. The knife pierced its ear against a
wall. The figure turned out to be a girl with blonde hair like the girl from the dream. She
shrieked and punched me in the face, I staggered backwards and dropped the knife and rushed
back towards her using the flashlight as a weapon and before I hit her she began to speak.
“Stop.” she said through a mix of tears and blood.
“What are you?” I said with an intense rasp to my strained vocal chords.
“I’m just looking for supplies. You can come to our-” She stopped as I hit her with the
flashlight.
“You’re lying.” I said emotionless.
“What?” She exclaimed through more blood and tears.
“There aren’t any left.”
“Yes , there’s a camp 3 miles west.”
“I…”
“I can show you there. Just st-”
    I kept on hitting her with the flashlight, and after the flashlight I used my hands, until her
face was nothing more than a mess of blood and bone. I stood over her corpse covered in her
blood and noticed something.
Silence. The radio wasn’t playing. No more songs, and no more emergency warning. I lied down
on the couch. It was finally peaceful and I could finally sleep soundly.