The Bees: Awakening

 I'm really enjoying writing this! Why did I not have this idea for my nano last month?!

Awakening

They stood. Not dead.

But this was not Elaine, this was not Joey. The people they had been, who I had loved; the woman I had lain next to for fifteen years, the son she had delivered into my arms ten years ago. These bodies, these soulless imposters, these were not my family.

Neither of them spoke. They stood on the bedroom carpet, swaying slightly. Neither of them looked at me, nor responded to my pleas. they simply stood, and they waited.

For two hours, they stood, as still as statuary.

I begged, I pleaded. I took Elaine’s hand and kissed it. I hugged my son. Nothing.

Finally I sat on the bed and watched them. The three of us a still and silent trio. Another hour passed, or maybe two. Snow drifted onto the window, turned to hail spattering on the glass. This startled me, but raised not a single flicker of emotion from them.

Them. As if I had already disowned them. Already began the process of Othering. Distancing myself from my former bonds, as they had been distanced from themselves. I wondered if there was anything left of their personalities. If they were actually even seeing through their deadened eyes, if the sound of my voice was triggering any recognition at all.

It seemed not.

I wasn’t sure whether they were alive or dead. They had certainly appeared dead earlier; no trace of a pulse, their chests still, lips blue. Now they certainly appeared to be living creatures, a steady - if slow - pulse and their breaths puffing vapour in the freezing bedroom, but apparently unconcerned by the near freezing temperature. I just didn’t understand how they had revived after so long, what had restarted their hearts, if not their sensibilities. I also didn’t understand why I was still alive. I had been the only one of the three of us who had not come down with the cold and blotchy rash virus. I supposed it was connected, though i couldn’t see how.

But, being alive, I still had needs. Unlike Them. I needed to eat, to excrete.

I went into the kitchen, picked up a can of beans and the opener. I had already placed the opener on the can, was just applying the pressure to puncture it. I stopped. It would be prudent to save the cans. And not only the cans, the packets too. I wondered how long cereal would last.

I wondered how long the tap water would flow.

Whilst eating the perishables in the fridge, I filled up every container I could find with water. Empty plastic milk cartons waiting for a recycling van that was never going to come, old sports bottles, a couple of fancy wine bottles Elaine had kept as ornaments.  It didn’t take long.

As I screwed the lid on the last milk carton, I heard movement from upstairs. Not quite footsteps, but shuffling. They were on the move.

They walked down the steps. Slowly, carefully. As if guided by the memory of tranversing these steps thousands of times before.  At the bottom they paused in the hall. Elaine raised her hand and reached blindly out for the lock. She fumbled with it, fingers loose and unco-ordinated, like an infant learning to grasp.

If the door had been locked and the key stowed away, maybe things would be different. But the key was in the lock, muppet keyring dangling. She opened the door. And then they left.