Hope enduring

I can hear the footsteps penetrating through my eardrums. The echo of snapping twigs that feel as loud as a symbol crashing. I am unsure whether each beat of my heart is louder. I can feel it pounding in my ribcage, trying to break out. I heard a louder snap. It could have been a branch? Did a piece of clothing get snagged? I want to look, peer around the large oak tree that looks as old as the world itself. Maybe I can catch a glimpse of who it is. Just a quick one.

No words are escaping the owner of the feet, I can hear no talking, no whispering so I assume they are alone. They are adult footsteps. Slow footsteps that are tormenting me, like they know that I am here. Teasing me because they can smell my fear, overhearing the thumping of my heartbeat.

It is autumn now, that I do know since the leaves are red, orange, and crunchy. The smell of the soil seeps into my nostrils and the trees that were once full-bodied are losing their foliage. The munching leaves help me to listen intently to the person's sounds. If I shuffle even slightly I will be heard.

The oak trees that are currently still able to hide me from view must be hundreds of years old. They survived it, they survived everything. The leaves still grow and the roots still spread themselves, just visible beneath the soil.

I can't remember how long it has been now, a year? Maybe two? No, it can't have been that long already. The night that the virus hit was unexpected as though it was transported through a lightning bolt into the world. There had not been a warning like the last time a virus reached us. No news articles confirming cases or cruise ships being blocked from entering while the holidaymakers struggled to stay distanced. It happened so abruptly. Feeling safe in our normal routines and then suddenly everyone is gone. They are all just laying there staring up at the sky. I could not understand, I had to get to my daughter and fast.

All the way to her school there were bodies. No opportunity to fight. Helpless to the unknown pathogens that were causing their deaths. The school empty, I searched, and I searched all night. Moving people and hoping that I did not get affected by the virus through touch. If it had meant that I could save her though I would have caught it. Sliding them off of each other in the hopes that my daughter was not beneath them. Something deep inside my gut told me to keep looking, after all, if I was still moving then she could be too. The more I rummaged, the more that feeling changed into a knot of grief. Eventually, I collapsed, drained, scared, grieving and unable to fight off the sleep that was encroaching.

The footsteps have stopped. Did I make a noise? What have they seen? I hope I didn’t move while reminiscing. I don’t understand. Maybe I left footprints in the soil and they have been spotted. Maybe they are trying to work out where they lead. Whether they are safe. Maybe they have worked out that I am here and they are planning what they will do with me.

The wind blows gently through the leaves in the tree and I can feel it wrap around me as though it is pulling me close. The noise rustling the branches seems to be a cue for the footsteps to continue. A turn must have been made because they are getting quieter, moving in the opposite direction. Very slowly my breathing is starting to find it is constant again, my heart beats reduce and tiredness takes over. Feeling as though my body has been in a fight I drop to the floor with my back remaining against the tree. I let out a long sigh and rest my head back against the bark. My eyes close and I feel myself begin to fall asleep.

Sleeping is a good way to pass the time. I have come across several people since the virus hit. Each with their own stories of what had happened, all with different people to blame. No one had seen my daughter. I tried to stay close to the city at first but it was getting dangerous. The more time that passed the hungrier everyone became. They would head into the city to empty the shops. As though they would never eat again they would fight for everything instead of sharing.

I tried to stay with a group of people I had met. They were all mums who had lost their families in the initial viral massacre. There was a young girl as well who reminded me so much of my daughter. It made my heart yearn to see her one more time. At night I would watch the girl and pretend that she was a part of me. For small moments, I was able to close my eyes truly believing that my daughter was near to me and safe. It never took long for me to wake up with a start, suddenly remembering that my daughter was nowhere to be found.

It became too much to bear and I knew I had to move on. I had to find my way and I had to stay out of the city. Packing up enough food to keep me going for a while I was able to sneak away and survive in the country, just outside of the place that my daughter would return to if she still walked.

I heard a branch snap. It woke me quickly and before I could even think I knew that it was not a good noise. There were footsteps again, this time more than one set. There were several. They were headed in my direction. From what I could work out they were very close, maybe 50 yards. I have nowhere that I can go, all that I can do is hope that the tree was wide enough to provide me with the invisibility that I need. That it would allow me protection from the searching eyes.

The footsteps were wary and would hesitate at the slightest noise. I can hear people shushing each other whenever there was a crunch beneath them. As they got closer and from two different directions I knew that it was the end. They knew I was here and they were coming to get me now. I pulled the large branch that I had been gripping so tightly that my knuckles were white and the inside of my hands scratched and I swiftly lifted it above my head as I swung around.

The branch missed everything in sight but I was ready to swing again quickly. This time I could see my target and I would not miss it. As my eyes set upon the bullseye I saw it. Silver with an embossed outline, our initials together in one place with our photos beside one another, it was the heart-shaped locket glistening in the sun.

Raising from her neckline to her face I could see her. My daughter stood there in front of me staring at me in both fear, and disbelief. For a few moments, we stared at each other, neither of us ready to believe that we were stood there together, and then together a smile crossed our faces and we stepped towards each other, arms wrapped tightly around, with no intentions of ever letting go.