Chapter 5: Brick and House

The truck rolled to a stop in the detached garage with a low, steady rumble. Scarlet killed the engine and stepped out of the truck. The low heel of her shoes thudded lightly on the smooth concrete. The late afternoon light filtered through the tree line beyond the clearing, catching on the clean lines of her tailored suit, on the polished edge of her glasses, on the faint shift of movement at her collar.

A small grey-and-white deer mouse crawled free from one of the gaps between the open buttons of her shirt and made his way up to her shoulder, settling there like he belonged.

She stood there for a moment, letting the quiet and the calm energy of the forest lined clearing settle around her. It wasn’t true silence, privacy or isolation, but compared to the city, compared to the convention, compared even to the traffic packed roads she’d left behind, it was a relief.

[45:42:02]

Scarlet let her gaze sweep the property.

It would do.

The structure was good. The house itself was built in an era where homes were made to last. All old growth timber, and actual stone, not just facades. The house sat low and wide in the clearing, a large single-story build. A recent renovation saw the addition of huge floor to ceiling windows. More windows than she would have chosen. Long panes stretched along the outer walls to let in as much light as possible. She’d not been inside since they were installed, but she assumed they probably showed a wonderful view of the surrounding landscape. It was as beautiful as it was a security risk. More windows just meant more ability for external surveillance, and more structural weak points to account for should something go wrong.

Scarlet didn’t dwell on it too much. Perhaps ‘beauty is pain’ referred to more than just the human body, because she knew all those windows would be a pain while organizing security and surveillance.

Beyond the house, the land stretched outward into thick, old-growth forest. The trees packed close enough together to form a natural barrier without feeling suffocating. They didn’t crowd the space so much as enclose it in a perimeter that would keep most casual trespassers out. Somewhere behind that tree line, she could hear the faint, steady movement of water. That would be the creek running its quiet course just a short distance from the clearing. In an emergency, at least she had a water source.

To the back of the house and diagonally from the detached garage was the converted bomb shelter. It was partially hidden by a low rise in the land. Scarlet genuinely didn’t know if it was artificial or human made. The shelter itself was underground, its entrance concealed. Its frame was made of reinforced concrete. It was discreet, private, secure, and it was also the only reason Scarlet had bothered to come to this place in recent years.

Scarlett’s gaze drifted out towards that sanctuary for a moment before moving back to the house.

“Honestly, leaving this place to me might be the single decent thing the old man ever did for me,” she said in a flat, observational tone. She paused. “Outside of dying,” she corrected.

Nodding once, she stopped dwelling on it. She had other things to do, and urgently.

Scarlet turned and surveyed the truck bed, pulling out a small notepad and pen her inner jacket pocket. The page was filled with neatly written lines of script. She scanned the page and began checking things off as she worked.

• Non-Perishables
• Medical Supplies
• Shop Tools
• Tech Equipment
• Sanitation Products
• Sanitary Products…

Every item on the list got a small, precise check mark when she saw them. There were a few things missing, but for the most part she had everything she needed.

Once she was done with basic inventory she began unloading. It was slower than she would have liked, and her limp was more pronounced as she was forced to do most of it without her cane. However, she had already mapped out in her mind where each thing would go before she even pulled into the property. Moving more slowly was no excuse for inefficiency after all.

She was forced to enter the house to access the main breaker and turn on all the power. The bunker worked on its own independent power supply, and she’d added solar the year before, so this would be the first time she was entering the house since before the old man had croaked.

She didn’t linger in the place. That man haunted the halls like a stubborn poltergeist. She was only inside long enough to turn on the power, do a quick security sweep, then close every curtain and blind.

The memories weren’t the view.

Then it was back to work.

She paused at the edge of the truck bed and looked at what remained to be moved.

Canned goods. Non-perishables. Bulk supplies stacked heavy and high. Then wrapped in a cloth, then a blanket, then a tarp, before being anchored down by every strap she could get her hands on, was her 2022 Honda Forza 350. There was no way she was staying here without her trusty bike.

She rolled the two-wheeler down the ramp she’d attached to the truck bed and parked it away, then looked out to see the sun making its merry way past the horizon, gilding the forest in its ethereal glow. The beautiful natural phenomena was a strangely harmonious contrast to the neatly stacked boxes, the half-unloaded truck, and well-ordered environment of the multi-functional garage.

Rubbing at her leg in a habit as ingrained as it was unhelpful, she took the moment to lean against her bike. She watched out the opened garage door as the sun descended cycling through a myriad of colours before it finally sank past the horizon and the exterior lights automatically flicked on.

[43:55:11]

She turned her head just enough to glance at Maus. He looked back at her. They both looked at the stacks of things still waiting for her to unload and organize them.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Let’s deal with that later, shall we?” She asked, getting a sense of agreement from her mousy companion.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t still have a lot to do.

She brought out a separate list she’d made on her phone, checking off ‘food’, and ‘tools’ before turning her attention to the two lines that would be the most difficult to complete.

• Security
• Information

Those were the major gaps. Thankfully, she’d been able to pick up the drones on her way to the house, and the tactical gear she would grab from the pick-up depot tomorrow.

The author’s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The rest was not so urgent. Hopefully this whole apocalypse thing didn’t begin with fire and brimstone, or an ice age or natural disaster of some kind. Her bespoke, tactical, tailored suit was still being manufactured. Something about nanotech that she’d have to read about when she had the time.

Ah, yes. Information. She needed untraceable sources of information, and in large volumes.

“I suppose we’ll have to go raid a library.” She paused. Looked at Maus who looked back at her. “You’re being awfully judgemental for a species known for theft. Besides they are public resources. Am I not a mostly tax paying citizen?”

He shifted on her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes, then turned on her heel and headed back toward her truck, throwing a tarp over her remaining supplies before securing them.

She was back on the road in moments.

<-…->

The town felt different then it had when she’d first driven through it.

The atmosphere was thinner, somehow, like tension was beginning to wear away at the edges of everything. Few people lingered, and barely any cars were on the road. The air carried that same strained quality that had been a constant since the ‘System Announcement’. That’s what they were calling it in the news. Only unlike the first frenetic hours of the announcement the reality had been given the time to settle deeper. Now on top of the surface-level panic there was an palpable tension beginning to take root.

Scarlet didn’t head straight for the library.

Instead, she circled once, then cut her lights and circled again, navigating by streetlights. She slowed just enough to take in the surrounding streets, the nearby buildings, the few people. The town was one of those not-too-big, not-too-small places that were dotted like freckles along the coast of British Columbia.

The library sat on the outskirts of the town. When she finally stopped the truck, it wasn’t at the entrance, but a short distance away, in a neighbouring lot.

Once out of the truck she crouched low, her weight balanced, her presence minimized, her attention on the building. The overgrowth from a nearby hedge row gave her just enough cover to observe without being immediately obvious.

[43:10:39]

Contrary to all common sense, the library looked like it was still open. And it was almost entirely untouched. The doors were intact, the windows unbroken, the interior dim but the front and entrance lights were on.

“Looks like there’s no need for B&E.” She told Maus, who was sitting on her shoulder. Scarlet’s gaze shifted as she took in everything around the library, unbending slowly from her crouch. Then she froze. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end, and she knew with an uncanny certainty she sometimes got that she was no longer alone.

Something behind her shifted. She felt the subtle change in the way space moved when someone entered your bubble.