Rain battered the windows as the gale howled outside. I alternated staring out into the darkness and watching the flickering lights of the TV as the Primer Minister took to the podium. On the bed beside where I sat, Kyra drooled onto my pillow as she slept off the whiskey from earlier.
I lifted my leg and swung it over the side of the bed to kick her and she awoke with a start, turning her head to glare at me. “The fuck you do that for?”
With a jerk of my head towards the TV screen, I lifted the remote and turned up the volume. Kyra frowned at me, but followed my gaze and blinked owlishly at the screen. She raised a hand to wipe the drool from her chin and pushed herself up, entirely uncaring of the fact that she wore only a bra and knickers.
“How long was I asleep?”
“An hour.”
“Fuck.”
She glared at the empty bottle on the bedside table as though blaming it for the hangover she no doubt had, and I grinned, shaking my head. I had tried to warn her but she just wouldn’t listen.
“Good evening,” the Prime Minister said, and I turned my full attention to the TV. “It is with great regret that I come to you tonight to announce that from Monday, we will be entering a period of lockdown.”
Kyra gave a heavy snort of annoyance and shook her head. She reached up to run a hand through the tangled mess of blonde curls and looked my way.
“You believing this shit?”
“Told you it would happen.”
“Yeah, but Monday?” Another grunt of displeasure. “What are we going to do?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? I half-listened to the Prime Minister speak as I considered the options. Returning to London was out of the question for me, at least for a few days more, but if I didn’t then I would be stuck in the rented house in Whitby for god knows how long.
I turned towards the window as a distant siren was heard, even above the storm, and I chewed absently on my lower lip. Lockdown had been discussed for weeks and with the rising number of sick people, it was inevitable.
Even in the few days, we had been in the town the number of sirens we had heard had risen remarkably. I couldn’t shake the feeling that things would get monumentally worse in the coming days and if they did, I had to wonder if I would be better at home.
“Non-essential businesses will close at twelve PM on Sunday night,” the Prime Minister continued. “Public houses, leisure centres, gyms, and sporting events will be closed.”
“Damn.” Kyra grabbed at her phone and tapped on the display, unlocking it. “Bastard! This is going to fuck up my entire quarter.”
I just shook my head as she typed rapidly on the screen, sending messages to her team back at the office. I should have done the same but I just hadn’t the interest in doing so. They could figure it out for themselves.
“Please remember, if you or a family member are showing the symptoms of this virus, call the number that is showing on the screen.” The Prime Minister paused, and looked off-camera. His furrowed brow had more lines than normal and even the makeup applied for the camera couldn’t hide the dark rings around his eyes. “Stay at home unless you absolutely have to. There will be more information provided as soon as possible.”
He turned towards the Chief Medical Officer who stepped forward and began speaking into the camera. Like the Prime Minister he appeared tired, his shoulders bowed and a slight tremble in his hand as he held a piece of paper before him.
It was worse than they were reporting, I was sure of that. Which kind of made the decision for me. Kyra had finished typing on her phone and had swung her legs over the side of the bed as she reached down for her suitcase.
“What’re you doing?”
“Need to get dressed. Long drive.”
“You’re headed back to London?”
She stopped rooting around in her bag and craned her head back to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You’re not?”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“No.” That was it, decision made. “I’m staying here.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?” she twisted around to sit back on the bed giving me a look that I knew well. She used it whenever I did something she thought was bloody stupid. Like when I asked Kathy to marry me. “We need to get back to work.”
“Non-essential businesses will be shut.”
“We are bloody essential!”
“Hardly,” the wheels of business would continue without me. The markets would rise and fall, money made and lost. I could do without it. “I’m not ready to go back.”
Kyra stared at me for a long minute, her eyes glittering with something I couldn’t recognise. Finally, she tossed down the sleeveless top she held and swore. “Fine, fuck it. We stay here then.”
I blinked at her, taken aback by that.
“You don’t need to stay.”
“Like you said, we aren’t essential.” She climbed back onto the bed and settled back with her head on the pillow. She looked at the bedside table and grunted. “But you better go to the supermarket tomorrow. I’m not staying here sober.”
She set her jaw and stared straight ahead, almost daring me to argue with her. I was tempted, but only because I knew just how much she loved to argue. Instead, I rose from my chair and crossed to the bed, climbing on and settling down beside her.
I leaned in and brushed her temple with my lips. “Thank you.”
Kyra merely grunted and I smiled to myself as I lay back and rested my head on the pillow. For all her bluster and outward show of anger, she was a kind person and one who cared deeply for those she loved.
As friends went, she was the best and I slipped my hand into hers, entwining our fingers. She squeezed my hand and we watched the TV in silence for a while as the news anchors began their debate over what the Prime Ministers’ address had just meant.
I tilted my head towards Kyra and inhaled the very expensive and slightly fruity perfume she wore. It was a familiar scent and one she wore often.
“We could be here weeks,” I said, voice soft. “Stuck in this house.”
“Most likely.”
She shifted on the bed, legs pressing together as she half-turned towards me, yet keeping her face away. I smiled, at the way, the corners of her mouth curved up. Her eyes flicked to mine, mischief dancing in them.
“I wouldn’t want you to be bored,” I said, and she laughed.
“Oh, yes, I bet.”
“We could entertain one another.”
“I’ve slept with you before, Johnny boy, I’m not sure how entertaining you can be.”
“Ouch.”
“Suck it up, mate.” She flashed straight white teeth in a grin and reached over to pat my bare leg. “You get me drunk enough and I might let you go down on me.”
“I’ll take it.”
We both laughed, a genuine sound that filled the room, and she grabbed my arm with her free hand and pulled me a little closer so she could press herself against me.
“I love you, you know?”
“Yeah, I love you too,” I told her.
Another pause and then, “Did I say I was sorry about, Kathy?”
“You hated her.”
“Yeah, but I’m still sorry.”
“I know.”
We continued to watch the TV in silence for a while until the image in the background behind the anchor changed. A mass of people were throwing themselves at the police as tear gas filled the air. The police, in full riot gear, were using their plastic shields to hold the people away as they lashed out with their batons.
It didn’t seem to be having an effect.
“Rioting in London as the protest turned violent,” the news anchor said. “This is an ongoing situation and we will have live reports for you from our staff on the ground.”
The screen changed and a young woman came into view. Screams filled the air around her and she coughed into her hand as the trailing edge of gas reached her. With watering eyes, she clung to her microphone and flinched as a bottle smashed against a wall nearby.
“Thank you, Alex,” she began. “I’m here at-“ the flashing lights and siren of a passing ambulance drowned her out for a moment. “And as you can hear, there has been an outbreak of violence at what had been a largely peaceful protest.”
Figures ran past behind her and somewhere a whistle sounded followed by more sirens. The reporter flinched and almost fell as bodies pushed past her. She looked scared and I almost felt bad for her.
“Bunch of twats,” Kyra muttered.
“Who?”
“The protestors. Workshy idiots who have gone to make trouble and loot the place.”
“There’s no looting.”
“Give it a minute.”
I shook my head at her cynicism, but true to her prediction, the screen changed again to an aerial shot of the rioters smashing windows and climbing through into the shops. Shortly after, they climbed out with their arms full of electronics.
“Told you.”
Another shake of the head but more at the rioters than at her smug satisfaction. It was stupid enough of them to gather together at a time of pandemic when a virus was spreading rapidly through the population. Stupider still to then let things turn ugly.
If nothing else it would galvanise the government to take further action to put limits on what the general populace could do during a time of crisis. I wasn’t exactly pleased with where that could potentially lead, and I frowned as I watched the rest of the segment.
The news anchor returned with the customary reminder that more news would follow and he began to speak about responses to the government’s lockdown announcement. I soon grew bored and went back to staring at the ceiling as I lost myself in thought.
Twenty-five years old and my life was in ruins. Everything I had been working towards was lost and, if I was honest with myself, the main reason I didn’t want to rush back home was that there wasn’t anything left to return to.
Like a coward, instead of staying and facing the consequences, I had run off to a place I had lived many years ago with the intention of hiding away from my problems. The lockdown, while annoying and unpleasant for most, couldn’t have come at a better time for me.
Another siren sounded outside as flashing lights roared past the window and I turned my attention from the roof to the window and the black storm that raged outside. If anything, it matched my mood and I appreciated it.
Soft snoring came from beside me as Kyra fell back to sleep and I lay there in the darkness with her huddled against me, and waited sleeplessly for the morning to come.