I still remember something from Wednesday, or maybe I want to remember not to live in the present. Thursday had arrived a minute ago for me and a few other people in the shelter. By simple calculations, we still had ninety-three hours and thirty-three minutes left. I looked around the room, where the wood in the fireplace was slowly burning, pleasantly raising the ambient temperature. Jan sat in the corner, muttering to himself, and above him stood a girl with a hood over her head, hands folded in prayer, probably praying. There was also a married couple – the husband was stoking the fire, the wife sitting and waiting for him to cuddle. Mother and daughter were trying to find a radio station on the radio I'd brought from the car. Yes, the car.
As Jan and I headed toward the shelter, we heard the rumble of an engine behind us. I saw a Transit honking at us, its high beams flashing. The priest and I exchanged glances but said nothing. Each of us must have wondered then whether the Transit carried any good within it or, as we feared more, evil.
When it stopped next to us with a screech of tires, the door immediately opened and a girl jumped out, now standing over Jan, praying beside him.
From the start, I didn't like something about her. Not only was she hiding her eyes behind flashy sunglasses, but there was also this strange scar on her right cheek. The driver, who wasn't in the car at the moment, smiled and told us to hop in and that he was very happy to see us.
"There aren't many of us left," he said, finishing, "it's better together."
He pulled a Fox from his shirt pocket and reached for his lighter.
The girl with the glasses and the scar on her cheek whispered something in Jan's ear, and that was the last time he looked at me. Since then, he hasn't even spoken to me. I tried approaching him several times, but he just turned away when he saw me. I tried to understand this sudden change, but I decided to talk to the girl first.
We sat in the backseat, separated by mother and daughter. They looked at me, smiling for a long time before finally speaking.
"Are you far away?" my daughter asked.
I looked at her, but I didn't even want to meet her eyes.
Slowly, the gift was becoming a curse. I'd learned over the days that when it didn't help me reach my financial goal, it also didn't bring me satisfaction. I didn't want to see any more bloody, dying mothers holding their half-dead children. I was also tired of apocalyptic visions of the end of this damn world, which would soon end anyway.
I glanced at my watch – it was a quarter past midnight.
Then, in the car, I also glanced at my daughter's watch. The hands had stopped at ten o'clock, probably from hitting something, as evidenced by the crack in the window.
"We're from here," I replied.
The hooded girl paused for a moment, as if she'd heard my words, and then resumed her quiet conversation with him.
The ladies clearly didn't want to talk to me any longer, probably satisfied with my answer, and began chatting among themselves about the latest sale at the mall.
"Did you meet anyone on the way?" the driver finally asked me.
"Nobody," I lied, thinking of Łukasz with a hole in his head.
The driver extended his unstarted Fox Fox toward me and smiled again.
"It's none of my business, right?" Another smile.
"Are you going to the animal shelter?" I changed the subject, reassuring myself that we were headed in the same direction. "
Yes," he replied, extending his hand, pointing to the empty passenger seat. "Jump in, we'll talk."
I quickly made my way to the driver's seat, leaving Jan and his entire haunted entourage behind.
"Gabriel," I extended my hand.
He looked at me without smiling and extended his own.
"Piotr," he shook it and finally smiled, pointing to the others. "The mother is Anna, the daughter is Andżelika."
I smiled and settled back in the seat.
"Such non-anonymous AA," I grumbled and burst out laughing.
I turned to check if they had heard me and saw a young couple embracing.
"And these?" I asked Piotr
. "The Nowaks, they're getting married on Saturday." Piotr kept his eyes on the road. "And your friend?"
"Jan, a priest," I replied. "I mean, he used to be a priest."
I turned to look at my companion, but he was busy talking to the girl in the hood.
"And this one," I asked, "the one talking to Jan?
" "Talking?" Piotr asked, surprised, and turned to check.
The girl in the hood kept whispering something in Jan's ear, and he kept glancing at the cab where I was sitting with Piotr.
"Here's a surprise," Piotr returned his gaze to the road. "The mute girl turned out to be very talkative.
" "Mute?" I was surprised
. "She hasn't said a word since we picked her up last night. So I thought she was mute, and I left her alone. And when she shivered with cold, standing in the snow in just a bathrobe, I tell you," he looked at me. "It gave me chills, damn it."
"In a bathrobe?
" "I gave her my wife's clothes." The smile vanished from his face. "Mute."
He's dead, I thought. I didn't want to find out why, or maybe how—I didn't care. The car, despite the lack of music on the radio, was very warm and cozy, and besides, I didn't have to climb up to that damned shelter anymore.
I sat back and closed my eyes.
"Tired?" I heard Piotr's voice
. "Sure," I replied without opening my eyes, "like hell."
He laughed, and at that moment, something jerked the seat I was sitting in. I opened my eyes and saw a cat's face between us, baring its little twigs at me. I screamed.
"Don't be afraid," Piotr reassured me. "Albert won't hurt you.
" "That's not the point." I reached out to grab the animal. "I like cats, I'm just a little surprised to see him.
" "Why?" Piotr was now surprised.
I took Albert in my arms, petted his head, and pressed him to me.
"You don't know that all the animals have died," I repeated the words I'd heard from the cell.
"No.
" "Well, you already know, anyway," I looked at him, pressing the cat's muzzle to my face. "The same thing would have happened to us if it were true. We're also...
" "...animals," the driver finished.
"Exactly," I hugged Albert close, continuing to stroke his head.
"We're getting closer," Piotr announced, pointing to the shelter's outline emerging from behind the trees.
First we saw a turret, then a sloping roof that reached almost to the ground. All the windows were dark. No one was inside, as we later discovered, becoming its only occupants.
There were three entrances to the building, two of which were padlocked, and only one had a standard lock on the door, which we easily forced open.
Piotr entered first, and I followed, leaving the sleeping group in the car behind us. They decided to wait out the night in that tin can until we could light a fire inside. Albert quickly found himself upstairs.
As I closed the forced door behind me, I saw snowflakes falling.
Snow, rain, floods, and more snow, I thought as I turned the doorknob.
"Gabriel!" I heard Piotr call, who had already climbed the stone stairs to the first floor.
Without answering, I ran after him. When I reached the top, I looked around the enormous room and smiled.
"The end doesn't have to be so bad!" Piotr shouted at me.
I looked around for a light switch, but the driver beat me, and I got a better look at the entire room.
Mattresses were laid out by the windows, with blankets and pillows scattered on them, as if left in a hurry. On the other side stood a bar and display cases, shimmering with colorful packages of pretzels and chips.
"We won't starve, that's for sure," I said.
In the middle of the room stood a fireplace with a week's worth of wood, as well as matches and kindling.
"Bingo!" Piotr exclaimed, delighted to see him. "I'll go get those sleepyheads, you light the fire.
" He ran out of the room, and I looked around again.
"Wonderful," I thought, and started to light the fire. I laid some paper and some wood on it, and lit it with a match and some sulfur on the box.
The heat from the lit newspaper blew onto my face, and I smiled again. I hadn't smiled in ages, and I think I'd picked up this strange habit from our newfound driver.
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone," I hummed to myself, adding wood to the fireplace. "Only darkness everywhere..."
The light dimmed for a moment, and I heard the coughing sound of an engine in the other room.
I stood up and went to the door from behind which the roar had come.
I slowly grabbed the handle and pulled down. The door gave way. Light from the hall slowly filtered into the room I'd just opened. In the center stood an engine and a multitude of canisters, which I later verified were filled with oil. It was running a bit erratically, as if something inside was constantly hitting something metallic. I looked around for a light switch, but I couldn't find anything. All I saw was an old suit lying on the right side, probably a rag for wiping my hands. There was no operator, either alive or dead, of this machinery.
Overall, the shelter seemed deserted, like the other places Jan and I had visited since Wednesday morning.
I walked around the engine and its connections to the power generator. I don't know anything about these things personally, but I was certain that the metallic noise I heard wasn't normal.
Taking a moment to calm down, I turned around and saw the new residents of the Transit walking around and looking around the room Piotr and I had discovered fifteen minutes earlier.
The driver soon entered the generator room and tapped me on the shoulder.
"Well, we have a light too," he said.
I looked at him and motioned for him to come closer.
"Listen," I pointed to the engine, "I don't think it's working properly."
Piotr walked closer and stood over it for a moment, listening to the whirring.
"Right," he turned, "it won't work for long unless we find some oil and tools."
He stepped closer and looked me straight in the eye. Strange, I didn't see anything. I don't know why; maybe I was too tired, but maybe (thankfully) my gift was wearing off.
"The others don't need to know about this, Gabriel," he said, and left the room, where the generator engine was humming with a metallic sound.
They don't have to, I thought, but I'd rather this damned world end sooner than have the power go out in this godforsaken place.
I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter to twelve.
I left, closing the door behind me without even checking to see if the engine tank had been refilled. Everyone was already seated in the room by the fireplace except Piotr, who had probably gone out to light a fire.
"Marzena!" Nowak's young wife stood up, extending her hand to me. Her husband sat staring at the burning wood in the fireplace.
"Gabriel," I returned the hug.
"Nice to meet you, it's a miracle we survived," she pointed at her husband. "We got married last Saturday. This is Andrzej.
Andrzej, don't move from your spot, not even trying to resume the conversation his wife had started with me.
" "Well," I shrugged, "I'm glad you made it."
Andrzej must have been waiting for those words, because he stood up and added more wood to the fireplace, nudging me with his shoulder as if looking for a challenge.
"Please forgive him," Marzena interrupted. "This whole situation is a shock to him, you know... Gabriel."
I stopped staring at her husband as he struggled with the poker, making room for new pieces of wood. I was just wondering when he was going to hit me with it, because I don't think he appreciates me talking to his wife.
"Shit, isn't it?" I grumbled.
"Exactly!" I heard Piotr's voice behind me and breathed a sigh of relief that he had intruded on the conversation. I don't feel like talking to some shocked idiot's wife. As if he was the only one entitled to it.
In fact, I just started observing the whole group. And that's what I saw. Average people, probably me too, who had somehow survived and found themselves here, enjoying every moment they had left. Except for Andrzej, I think.
I noticed something else. There were eight of us. And strangely enough, there were eight mattresses in the room. It was as if we'd traded places with someone, perhaps the same group of average people who'd spent the night in a shelter and fled, leaving behind folded blankets and scattered pillows. Who knows?
Mother and daughter found mattresses they probably liked and moved closer to the fireplace. After a few minutes, following suit, the Nowaks did the same. When Jan and the girl started approaching, I feigned interest in the generator room and headed toward it.
As I reached the door, Albert, with his tail raised, ran across my path, his tail in the air. Soaked, he stopped a few steps away and dusted himself off like a dog. He looked around for a moment, probably looking for Piotr. I glanced around, and like Albert, I didn't see the driver.
I reached out and turned the handle. Inside, the engine and generator were running almost perfectly. Almost, because I could still hear that metallic clatter. The light from the open door finally illuminated the switch. I turned on the light and saw that the tank was almost empty, so I reached for the first diesel canister on my left and lifted it. I tilted it over to refill it. At first, it was heavy as hell, but as it lost its contents, it became easier to handle.
When I had completely emptied it, I set it aside.
Suddenly, the door to the room closed. I turned, kicking the empty canister. The engine coughed again, and the light dimmed for a moment.
Jan stood there, smiling at me. I glanced at my watch—it had just passed midnight.
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