Rohan

Tuesday, May 31st, 2022 (70 days after the Shutdown)

In Ancient Greek mythology the king of the gods, Zeus, gave the first mortal woman a jar warning her never to open it. Tempted by the allure of the jar, she opened it and the evils trapped inside spread around the world, never to be captured again. When Rohan was younger, there was a novel series where the protagonist was given Pandora’s box and told that only the spirit of hope, Elpis, remained as it would never abandon humanity.

One month ago, humanity had abandoned hope.

Witnessing the destruction of the government buildings let the message truly sink in — there was no one coming to save them.

When Colonel Ridges heard that the country’s capital hill had been blown up, the old soldier had deflated under the weight of the news. He, more than most, had been holding out hope that the government would find a solution that would make all of his efforts worth it. Seeing them in vain, he retired to his office and didn't come out until the later part of the day, a different man.

With the colonel gone, Major Hogue had assumed command and sent a squad to investigate the situation. Days later when they didn't return, she sent another team but they shared the same mysterious fate.

In the following period of uncertainty, the desertions started. At first, there were only a few reports of people missing but as the illusion of stability within the school wavered, so did the soldiers’ resolve to stay. By the turn of the week, all that remained of the 140 people were 49 exhausted individuals, 16 of whom were students and teachers who didn't possess any faculty to escape.

Then two weeks ago, Colonel Ridges disappeared along with a crate of foodstuffs. For the rest of the day, Hogue's curses rang out across the school, slandering the colonel's name in ways Rohan hadn't thought imaginable. But the price of cowardice was cheap and people who needed to survive couldn't be stingy.

In the days after, they had their second encounter with another group. Made wary by past experience, the moment they stepped on the front lawn, the remaining soldiers lined the front-facing windows with their guns ready. It had been enough to scare them off this time but it foreshadowed what was to come. Whatever event had transpired downtown had driven people out of the city’s center and running towards the outskirts, bringing unwanted gifts with them. Sorrows were gradually reintroduced into the area but for the moment they weren’t anywhere near their previous numbers.

Looks like it might finally rain today, he thought as he looked at the overcast outside.

Lounging in a window nook beside his wilted bean stalks, another one of Rohan’s “superhero sessions” had ended in failure. Since the day the albino serpent talked to him, he hadn’t been able to reactivate his thermal eyes.

Initially, he assumed it was something like chi or mana that he had sensed within him so he tried to meditate and that went as well as he expected. It was a waste of time that earned him strange looks from onlookers. So he tried another approach. Hypothesizing based on what the albino serpent said, the changes that were happening to him were primarily physical with the “shard” of the serpent in his soul serving like a graphics card; it would process the incoming stimuli at a rate faster than regular humans to give him enhanced vision.

Recalling how his optical nerves and his brain transformed when he’d gotten his thermal vision, he studied the muscles in his eyes and tried to exercise them. Up until now, that’s how he’d spent the month; doing eye exercises to no avail.

Watching a herd of Sorrows drift below his window, he wondered aloud, “What do you think I should do?”

The snake tattoo on his forearm didn’t respond, leisurely flicking its tongue like it was tasting his thumb.

“Nothing? That sounds like a brilliant idea,” he sighed, leaning back and imagining where he would be right now if it weren’t for the Sorrows. It was a game he liked to play with himself, but more often than not, it only served to deepen his heartache.

I would’ve finished my exams by now… glad I missed that… I wonder how Jake is doing. Hopefully, he made it back home with the others by now. My parents would be worried… hopefully… naw… they’re probably wondering who will take over my chores. Picturing his sister’s face when they dumped it all on her, he ruefully smirked. The snake suddenly moved, breaking him out of his wallowing of self-pity.

Studying the skeletal arm it was spiraling around, he returned to the problem at hand. Logically speaking, to train a muscle — which his eyes used — it needed to be torn and healed. And without any nourishment to “heal”, his plans would stay stagnant.

Aside from the MRE he’d eaten a month ago, food became a relic of the past. With integrity no longer a requisite for a soldier, it was guaranteed for them to take the lion’s share of what they stumbled by while scavenging. Therefore the food he desperately needed to grow could be the missing part of the puzzle.

Encapsulated by the silence of Room 212, he’d nearly forgotten the main event for today. Glancing at the clock, he gave one last look at his failed gardening project. Here’s to hoping my day turns out better than yours.

***

Damn…

Gasping for air, he labored to catch up to the soldiers who had their guns swinging about.

The roster of the military squadron that arrived over two months ago wasn’t solely stacked with soldiers, but with field medics and administrative personnel to assist in the distribution of provisions until a solution to the electronic blackout was found. Thus, to relieve the 10 remaining soldiers who were endlessly scavenging, students were put into rotation.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Which is how he found himself running through a neighborhood with a pack of Sorrows on his tail. They could’ve stopped when they saw a looted corner store, or they could’ve stopped before that when they saw a house two streets from the school. But, no. Instead of taking shelter in one of those two very reasonable options, the lieutenant in charge of the scavengers decided to play a hero and draw more Sorrows away from the school.

During his stay in the school, most of his time was spent studying plants and animals, trying to recover from his “evolution”, and starving. Mostly starving. None of these was the ideal criteria of someone who had to be quick on the feet and able to move for long distances.

Two minutes into their voyage, his ragged breaths were the most prominent sound they could hear. The sun burnt his deathly pale skin and still unaccustomed to his enlargened proportions, his gangly knees knocked against each as he ran.

“There’s a house up here! Rohan, move it!” the lieutenant screamed, pointing towards another street.

There. Are. Houses. All. Around. Us. You… dumb pillock! Turning right, an entire wave of Sorrows turned the corner with him. Tripping over the last step, he threw himself across the threshold and heard a reassuring click as the lieutenant slammed the door behind them.

When the monsters realized they’d been refused entry, a chorus of Death Cries rang throughout the lifeless street.

Rohan’s eyes stung from the sweat rolling down his brow. Tufts of hair had recently regrown after he lost it during his coma, and as happy as he was to no longer fit the profile of a skeleton, with his pale complexion and thin strands of hair plastered to his scalp, he’d graduated to looking like a ghoul.

“Alright, this place is good a place to start as any. Even though the door was open, there still might be people so be cautious of that. Molino, you and Braun take the basement, and Durocher and I will take this floor,” the lieutenant announced. “Rohan, just stay put. You’re our designated porter, so take this time to rest.”

The moment they left, Rohan crept up the stairs. If they have a bed I can sleep in, I’ll be blessed. It was a quaint house with three rooms. Investigating the first two, the dressers and nightstands showed signs of neglect yet, there were signs of recent activity like another party had entered. In that case, there won’t be anything worthwhile here. Still driven by curiosity to investigate the last door, a soft breeze exuded from the bottom of the door, heavy with the scent of rot.

Sorrow. Afraid that noise might attract it, he unclasped his hand from the door handle and he tread backward. Did the last group trap one inside? But that makes no sense, I thought Sorrows couldn’t go up stairs. Was that information wrong? Another wave of the putrid odor smothered him. Rushing back to distance himself, he cast a dubious eye on the door. If that is a Sorrow…why does it smell so bad? Stone doesn’t decay.

Covering his nose, he opened it.

Instantly, a gust of the fetid odor assaulted his nose causing him to heave till bile burnt his throat. On his arm, his snake tattoo crept out from under his shirt for the first time since his last encounter with the albino serpent. Is there something here? Taking a second to collect himself, as he raised his head, he recognized if the smell didn’t get to his nerves, the room itself eventually would.

On the other side of the room the curtains were drawn, further hindering any light that passed through the burgeoning thunderstorm outside. The corners of the room were hidden from sight, so given nothing jumped out, he chose to disregard them for his own sanity. That mistake was quickly rectified.

Out of the corner of his eyes, a small figure waddled towards him, and already high-strung, he did what any normal person would do — he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Reflexively swinging his leg towards the figure, the lieutenant came hurtling in only to get kicked right in the sweet spot. Whimpering as he clutched his groin, the other soldiers turned on their flashlights.

“Hands above… your head?” Molino faltered, lowering her gun as the waddling figure lost its anonymity.

A toddler stared at them with blackened hands. Its hair was knotted and its clothes were tattered and brown, like it defecated on itself. Aside from the lieutenant’s sniffles, both sides were locked in a staring contest until the toddler broke first and started bawling at the sight of intruders.

… Huh?

Rohan could tell the others shared his thoughts because they wordlessly stared at it. Finally, Molino lowered her gun and wrapped it in a hug.

“Why is she alone? There’s no her parents would abandon something so precious,” Molino stated, squeezing the toddler’s cheeks to reveal teeth covered in blood. “Oh… oh my god.”

“I-I think I found your answer,” the lieutenant wheezed.

Underneath the duvet, Rohan finally found the source of the smell. Two decaying corpses held one another in a final embrace, peaceful expressions adorning their faces as if their final moments had been painless.

“Guys, look underneath. We found the reason for the kibble,” Molino said, her tone somber as she continued to comfort the sniffling child.

What remained of the family dog was resting under the bed, maggots wriggling out of his eyes. The retriever’s head had been cut cleanly off, leaving no room for confusion as to how it died. Its stomach had been hacked open with its entrails hanging out. Little bit marks showed where a small being had been gnawing on the meat. Well, that explains the blood in her mouth, Rohan thought, growing nauseous at the sight of the raw meat in front of him.

“This has to be why the front door was unlocked. The parents had no hope of surviving so they gambled on the possibility anyone scavenging would find the kid and take her with them. But why did they have to kill the dog?” Molino asked but no one could give her an adequate answer.

Using the grisly scenery as an excuse to escape, Rohan felt a gaze as he paused at the door. The child was staring at him as if she was fascinated by his unusual appearance. Creepy little shit. Blackened blood had crusted on her lips and fibrous strands of meat under her nails, making the vegetarian part of him shudder in disgust.

Maybe I do need that nap after all. Entering the first room he’d seen, stuffed toys and play sets were packed neatly along a wall. On the nightstand, there was a framed photograph of a happy family grinning at the camera. So this was what you looked like… Why would you leave her? In the wife’s arms, a pudgy baby pointed to the camera, her big brown eyes full of curiosity. How could you leave her alone?

Those questions would never find answers. Pacing around the room, he found a pastel painting pinned to the wall. It depicted green hills and herself, drawn cartoonishly disproportionate, and in the background, a dark gray cloud was chasing after her. At the very bottom, it was signed, “Daliah”.

Outside, it began to rain.