Just Take A Moment

Suppose you were the last. Just take a moment. Suppose you were the last, what does that mean? It means that you have watched us all pass away; either that or it has been some time since you have fled this place, this place where you’ve been sitting for the last few hours, thinking in silence. Time enough for you to put two and two together and came up with four bodies. What would be going through your head? Do you still wish you had left the city when the rest did and not stayed with those who could not?

 I don’t blame you if that wet on your cheek is for yourself and not us, after all, you’ve cried for us before haven’t you? When you first started the job and realised there was no hope for us. I remember when you started Jacqueline, when that box was still contentedly beeping, somewhere off to the left. When there was so much more noise, not just your voice, reading to us.

You put your hair into a bunch, that hair that smelt so sweetly like coconut. I remember that fragrance wafting in, even before you said hello, that wonderful aroma that permeated the black behind our eyelids.

Was it Peter Pan you used to do the voices for? Those voices that used to echo about the room. Now it’s just our voices echoing inside your head isn’t Jacqueline? What you’d give for a different inflection. I appreciate it you know, I never did get a chance to thank you, never will I guess, my lips being too still for that, my throat too dry.

I’m getting off track, I won’t apologise for the digression and its welcome isn’t it. O.K, so suppose you are the last one left here, the whole of London lies open. Though it’s probably unlikely, you’re hardly significant enough to be the last. I don’t mean any offence; you’d be the first to admit it’s true. Suppose you are one of the last. Isn’t that wild? What I wouldn’t give to stroll around the streets of this city, without the thundering of traffic or the incessant voices. One or two wouldn’t be bad I guess, some of those that haven’t succumbed. May’ve you could start a colony? A little camp somewhere, full of survivors, farming off the land, keeping some livestock, making a new life amongst the ruins of this old one. I’m getting ahead of myself, that scenario would mean that you had the rest of your life. You don’t if you stay here.

Jacqueline. Jacqueline I’m going to speak now, is that alright? I want you to know that he is wrong, it’s not too late. Get down the river, there are probably some boats left. Even if there aren’t, follow it down. Get to the coast. Maybe it’s not the whole world you know.

But you can’t leave us, can you Jacqueline? I mean maybe there is some strength left in you to leave, but I doubt it.

Stop being horrible will you?

I don’t mean to be horrible; I’m just trying to get you to make a decision one way or another. I mean after all, you could leave and maybe you’d stand a chance, though there is probably more danger out there now than there was earlier on. Alternatively you could stay with us; we’re all you have left in the world.

When did that happen Jacqueline? Was it when Frank left you? When your parents got sick?

Now that is weird, surely if you are immune, they would have been to, genetics would suggest-

No, it might have just come together in you. Aren’t you lucky?

It’s quiet without the beeping, and darker behind here without the lights. Was that a sound in the hallway? Just a creek. Don’t panic.

Suppose you leave, suppose you stay. Suppose you left. Suppose you didn’t.

Remember when they first started coming in? The first few. You said to yourself that they had nothing to complain about, just a migraine and stomach problems. It was nothing compared to us kids, stuck in a bed all day.

This isn’t important. What are you going to do? It’s scary outside, stay here with us where there’s still a bit of warmth left. At least don’t make any decisions until tomorrow, it’ll be dark soon and without and lights on, it’s going to be hell getting anywhere.

Don’t say that word; it’s not going to help anything. Try not to fall into helplessness. Be rational, you’re a doctor.

 

Wake up, open those eyes, go on take a good look around. What’s it like? It’s quiet isn’t it? Quieter than yesterday somehow, wouldn’t you say? It’s probably alright to leave. She’s not here anymore, I mean, I can’t really tell, but there certainly seems to be no sign of life, that glow is gone from her cheeks. Don’t stay just for me.

Or me.

Or me.

Was that a beep? Was it? Was it? Was it a car? Is there some machinery somewhere out there still ticking over? Waiting for someone to press a button, or punch in some numbers? Look up some symptoms...arrange the shift schedule? It’s useless now, like I have been for a long time. I wonder if my parents tried to get to me...sorry, I shouldn’t mention parents.

Remember how happy they were when you moved back here after university? Aren’t you hungry? They smiled the widest you’d ever seen, smiled like Father Greene used to smile at you in church on Sundays. Is it Sunday? What I’d give for a roast dinner. So made up your mind yet?

Yeah, you need to make it soon; staying here last night was probably a mistake. I know you feel bad for us, not being able to leave this room. Just think about that for a moment.

Not a mistake really, just an option that wasn’t the best to take. If you’d left, you could have grabbed some food from the cafeteria, there’s one of those isn’t there? It’s a hospital after all.

You could have gone with some food, some tins; all the better to keep it fresh. Or you could have gone over the road, down the road...marks and sparks, it happened too fast for people to panic buy. Even better, there is that room full of people’s belongings. That’s when people kept coming in, pouring in through the doors when they still held out hope that there might be a cure. You were diverted to the emergency room; did you miss the still of this room while you were down there in that labyrinth? You did. Yes, those belongings. Some of them had food in their bags, their pockets. They were on their way to leave.

Ooh, is he gone too? That’s half the sum out the way. It’s that glow again, that halo. Gone.

Go for God’s sake!

Will you just die already? Those machines switched off hours ago. Give up! Then she could leave.

Don’t be so terrible, Jesus Christ.

Did you know that his name wasn’t even Jesus Christ? Jesus is just the Greek translation of Yeshua, which translates from Hebrew to Joshua. Oh it wasn’t Joshua Christ either, because Mary and Joseph’s last name wasn’t Christ.

I didn’t.

You knew though right Jacqueline? My Dad said it to my mum when they came one time. You were standing outside, I could smell the coconut. Sorry, there I go mentioning parents again. He was a bit of b*****d though, what was he even talking about. His son lying there and he is...well.

Jacqueline, you haven’t moved for a while are you alright? Don’t you want to go and get something to eat? Just take a walk. We won’t be here forever. You’ve got to find someone else to talk to. It’s getting colder now. Is it cloudy out?

Are you still feeling bad? You know, because we’re trapped here, destined to pass away without ever laying eyes on the world that’s left behind. I wouldn’t. No you don’t do you? You’ve realised haven’t you. How did you do that?

He’s gone isn’t he? So what? So how did you work it out? Suppose you were in a room with four young coma patients. Suppose you were too scared to leave, and were so sad for them because they couldn’t escape. The power was turning off slowly, the backup has no backup. It’s over. Suppose then you were too invested to leave, even when there was only one of them still alive. Not alive in the real meaning of the word, her brain is dead. It’s just her body holding on. Suppose you’ve waited too long to leave. You didn’t want to leave what you knew and make it in a brave new world, devastated by some mystery illness that struck the world all over, all at once. Suppose you were the last.  What would that fee like? Just take a moment.