Sheltered

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She was never expressly forbidden from looking through that window, but her father had warned her all her life: "Rosita, I don't wish to hide the truth but it is terrible. You may look out my window, but you will not like what you see."

She had always known that the outside world was danger and fear. He had told her abbreviated stories-- cut of most of the meat, but still terrifying to her. Vague stories that only hinted the miserable, horrifying, nightmarish things he had witnessed out on his scavenging runs.

And she had heard horrible things during the night, wrapped up in the safety of her bed she had clasped wrapped pillow over her ears to shut out the shrieks and howls that came at night.

But after all these years, her curiosity had outgrown her fear. The bright blue light from the window hurt her long sheltered eyes, but she could not bring herself to look away.

Gripping her father's hand in her trembling fingers she stared out his window on a bruised skyline and saw skeletal towers moldering in ruin. She looked down on the street below their window she saw-- for the first time in her life-- other people, napping in the shade.

She felt a quiet, guilty thrill to see new face-- faces that didn't belong to her father or her reflection. But she boarded up that social excitement just as tight as the rest of the windows in their house. Years worth of her father's mercifully desiccated stories and the soul-piercing sounds of night always sat at the front of her young mind and at that moment they weighed heavy.

She understood that those people lazing about and groaning down in the street were no longer people, they were walking ruins. Humans fallen prey to their baser, violent instincts. They weren't capable of kindness or peace. They were depraved, monstrous beasts-- the infected.

And even if she'd never heard a single warning from her father's lips, she'd sense the danger in their weather worn faces. All of them unkempt, their hair in knots and matted with filth. Their clothes in tatters. Their sun-baked faces all caked with blood and pieces of offal....

She stared wide eyed as the sky began to darken and the infected began to perk up. They tensed as predators ready to pounce. Their eyes were keen and hard. Their lips drawn back in quiet sneers.

They sniffed the air like dogs and squatted on their feet waiting for the suns last retreat.

"Rosita, look up. You've never seen a sunset before."

"I can't look up daddy. I can't...."

Then a cry sounded from below, a harsh, guttural bark. From a man who moments prior had been sleeping on some broken glass under the front awning of an abandoned shop. A flurry of motion, and several more came rushing out of the shop into the gloom of an apocalyptic dusk. They ran on each other's heels down street, howling and screaming as they went. The clamor of hundreds of like voices from the neighboring streets rose up like a swell and scraped its way down her frozen spine.

Her dad drew the blinds, and the soft red blue light of a broken sunset filtered through the cracks.

He sighed. "I told you, you wouldn't like what you saw. You've heard them every night since you were born, and still it chills your blood to actually see them, doesn't it?"

She nodded.

And he said, "But you're safe here, inside. My sweet Rosie, I will always keep you hidden from the danger outside."

And she threw her arms around her father and believed him, even as she sobbed.

But a thought snaked its way up from the part of her that was so very afraid. She thought about her poor father, venturing out into that waste to scavenge food to keep them alive. She did not want him to go. "Daddy, what if something happens to you and you don't come back?"

He shushed her and said, "I'm here darling girl, and I'll be careful out there so I will always be here again. You saw how subdued they are before sunset... In all the years of your life, have I ever once come back after dark? Or even anytime close to dark? I'm careful for your sake as much as mine sweetheart."

He was telling the truth. She knew that, even though their windows were so boarded up that today, at his window, was the first time she'd ever seen natural light. She intuitively associated the night noises that kept her awake with darkness, and knew that those noises had only ever started an hour or so after he returned home with supplies.

"But what if one wakes up during the day time. I don't want you to be all alone out there daddy." She looked at the blue light of night time spilling between the blinds on his window and shuddered.

He shook his head.

And another thought occurred to her: if he should fall and hurt himself and not be able to get back home without her help, what would happen to him? For that matter, what would happen to her if he stopped bringing her food?

But before she could speak to this, he said, "Let's get you to bed darling. We've got enough food for me to skip the scavenging run tomorrow, so we'll have a school day. We've gotta drill your spelling. We're also going to talk about history, what it was like before the disease came and changed things."

***

But she could not sleep. Even with her pillow tight against her ears, pressing out the sounds of the outside, she still could not keep her eyes closed. The infected, they seemed so wrong. Playing those sights over in her head, she couldn't help but feel their very movements seemed inhuman. Bizarrely choppy, almost punctuated. How could a disease turn a normal, happy person into such a feral, wild thing? If she could the disease would she move the same way? In twitchy little bursts? Would she still be able to think?

She remembered one time when she was very little, her dad had told her that before the collapse there had been billions of humans on Earth and now they were the only two left.

She'd asked what billions meant, and he'd said a billion was a very big number. He'd said: "If each hair on your head was a human person, then we'd need about 10,000 heads of hair just as full as yours to count to one billion people, and there were nearly 8 billion people living on earth before everything happened.

The thought was dizzying, and she knew she still didn't have any real grasp on what the numbers meant. But having only ever spoken with one human other than herself, it boggled to her mind to think that there used to be a number beyond reckoning, living and breathing and thinking. It didn't make sense that they could all catch the disease.

Her father had said that was how diseases worked. They spread like light in a dark room when you flip the switch.

But she hadn't been able to grasp the possibility that all of them were gone. How, out of so many could only they two remain?

That skepticism found new strength today, even in the sight of such miserable ruin, she understood that the skyline of crumbling buildings had once housed billions of people. Seeing the towers in the distance put it all in scale, and she wondered, if maybe her father was wrong. Living her whole life with only 5 rooms to explore and then, suddenly looking through his window and seeing that the world beyond put their home in near microscopic proportions was an overwhelming revelation.

And though she didn't truly believe her father was wrong, she now had the courage to hope he was. For she would dearly like to meet another person. How nice it would be to have a conversation with someone else!

So it wasn't only fear that gripped her heart and kept her awake through the hours where she would have slept. It was this vague hope that maybe life could be more for her. Even if they never found another thinking person, looking for one would be better than rotting in their little fortress.

***

In the morning he woke her gently, with a cup of orange juice and a plate of crispy bacon along with eggs over-easy-- her favorite breakfast.

Normally she'd dive right in, but this day she could only muster the strength to pick gently at her food.

"What's the matter pumpkin? Something wrong with your food?"

"I'm just thinking about the people daddy, the billions. It's really sad they're gone."

He nodded and sat beside her. "I know baby. It's very sad."

"And daddy, didn't you find this food by scavenging their houses?"

"Yes pumpkin, we're lucky that we can still find such good food. Eat up, we've got a big school day coming up!"

Thinking about the food on her plate as the sorry leavings of some suffering infected, she could only whisper: "I'm still not hungry.

He frowned and took her plate. "Do you want some ice cream instead?"

Her dad never offered ice cream except for special occasions, and she took this to mean: he could tell how upset she was and wanted to cheer her up.

She loved her father so much. And she truly admired him for keeping her safe and bringing her food all these years.

She couldn't bear to hurt him, so she nodded.

"Okay Rosie, coming right up!" He beamed at her as he scooped her a bowl of strawberry ice cream, her favorite. "Do you want sprinkles?"

She nodded. And when he handed her the bowl, she forced a smile. And when she took a bite, she said, "Yum, thank you daddy!"

He smiled contentedly, but she couldn't help feeling wretched. This wasn't their ice cream. It was the ice cream of some poor family that hadn't been smart enough to hide, like her father. Some poor family that had caught the infection and lost themselves. Their ice cream had been sitting so many years, forgotten in their freezer until her dad had found it. But still, that family wasn't wasn't dead. They were just infected, and it felt wrong to be eating their ice cream.

She grinned anyway, even though she felt like she might vomit.

But she knew she was being silly. She and her father needed to eat. And the infected weren't going to eat that stuff. So, why should it be left forever sitting in a freezer somewhere when it could be going to use here.... right?

Rosita told herself to snap out of it. Told herself to show some gratitude, not just for the ice cream, but for her father who had sheltered her all these years.

He smiled at her and got up from the table. He came back with some math sheets and a pencil, along with a stack of history books.

"Now I know math isn't your favorite subject Rosie, but it's important to learn."

"Yes daddy, I understand."

His smile told her that he really was very proud of her. And that made her feel a little better.

He said, "Well, even so, I'll give you the choice today sweetie. Math or history first?"

As much as she hated math, she loved history. She liked hearing about the way things were before. "History!"

He opened one of the books and said, "Now Rosie, the city on the skyline-- that's a place that used to be called New York City. I'm going to tell you all about it...."

And she listened intently, but the quiet part in her heart kept yearning to go there, and see for herself if maybe they couldn't find just one other person who had hidden away, safe like them.

".... Now before you were born I actually visited New York City, the towers look all the more impressive up close, and--"

"Daddy I want to go there."

"To New York City? Impossible. As I was saying there were--"

"Well why is it impossible?"

He sighed. "It's far away pumpkin. Looking out the window it looks right up close doesn't it. But we couldn't possibly get there and back safely before nightfall. And you know what happens then. Back before the collapse the City was--"

"Well if we can't go there, then can we atleast just go outside together, I--"

His face grew stern. "No Rosie, now pay attention to today's lesson. The City--"

"Daddy I want to see what it's like outside of the house. Just a little ways, then we can run back inside way before dark. There might be someone else who--"

His voice startled her, it was an angry burst she'd never heard from him, "No Rosita! Lesson is over. There is no one else. We are all that's left! You will NOT go outside, it's not safe!"

"But daddy, don't I need to learn how to scavenge? What if you get too old and I have to be the one to go looking for the ice cream and food?"

His yell was so loud it hurt her ears: "You will NEVER go outside, it's too dangerous! Haven't I told you what the infected would do to you if they ever found you? Do you want those dirty fingers pawwing at you? Do you want those teeth biting into you? They do even worse things to little girls like you, things I don't want to tell you, because they are too terrible.... But maybe you need to learn! Should I tell you what happens when one of the infected catches a poor little girl who hasn't got the disease?"

Tears were welling in her eyes. She knew the infected ate people, and she couldn't imagine what could be worse than that. And she really didn't want to know. She shook her head vehemently.

"Are you sure?! I think I'd better describe it to you!"

"No Daddy, please. I won't go outside, I'm sorry."

"Repeat after me Rosalita! 'I swear to never go outside. And I swear to always do what daddy tells me because he knows how to keep me sheltered and hidden and safe from harm.'"

Her sobs broke her words apart but she did her best, "I--I swear to n-n-never go outside. And I swear to al-always do what daddy tells me because he knows how to keep me sh-sh-sheltered and hidden and safe from harm!"

"now go to your room and think about what you've just said Rosita!"

She slunk away from the table, leaving her bowl of melted strawberry ice cream behind with all her curiosity about the outside and the way things were and the way things are.

The rest of her day bled into the night, and the screams of the infected hordes outside seemed all the louder for her guilt.

***

She didn't wake until late the next day, and by then the house was empty. She found a note on the table:

Rosita, I love you. Never forget that. I know this life is not always easy. But please forgive me. I'm only doing this because I love you. I'm out scavenging today. The door is locked from the outside, as always. I wish I could trust you to reign in your curiosity, but you're a bright girl, just like your mother was. If only she'd listened to me back then, she'd likely still be alive and we'd all be together. If I seem harsh, and mean, I want you to know I don't intend to hurt you. But you SHOULD be scared. Fear of this infection is healthy, if it keeps you safe. I failed your mother but I wont fail you. As always, I'll be back safe well before dark. Today, help yourself to anything from the fridge or freezer. And read as much from our bookshelves as you want. When I come home, I'll answer any questions you have about the outside, with the understanding that my answers will have to be enough. Love, always, your father

And little Rosita, she held the letter in her trembling fingers. She looked at the front door, locked as she knew it would be, and boarded up tight so no light at all broke through. She beat back that longing to force the lock. As if she'd even have the strength to begin with....

Then took a paper and pencil, and wrote her simple reply:

I'm sorry daddy. I love you too, more than anything. And I admire you and I appreciate everything you do for us. -Rosie

And she thought, in the boredom of their lives, maybe she could give him a little surprise to break the monotony. She drew a picture of her and him holding hands, outside. And she labeled it, IF the world were safe again.

She thought to slide it under his bedroom door, for him to see when he got home. She supposed it would be better to leave it on his desk, but his door was always locked when he wasn't there. She knew it was because he didn't want her looking out the window without him there incase it was too scary. He had forbidden her from ever looking without him. But as she approached to slide her message under the gap, all that curiosity that she'd tried so hard to subdue came roaring back.

She'd already had the courage to look once, with him, and it had sparked a need to look again, with or without.

She rattled the handle, and it felt loose. She could nearly feel her heart thudding in her chest and her neck. She pushed and the door swung in.

Her dad would be furious. She knew she should just shut the door right away, and force herself to forget it-- so she did.

Almost.

She pulled it so close to shut, that only a sliver if air breathed between the door and frame. Then she flung it back open and ran to the window-- she threw back the blinds and stared at... nothing?

She couldn't see anything at all-- it was pitch black outside!

Panic curled up into her throat and she screamed... Her daddy was out there, in the dark, with the infected!

She ran to the front door, shrieking his name as she tugged vainly at the bolted door. It would not budge.

And poor Rosita collapsed in a heap, certain that the worst had happened, her darling father, her wonderful father had gone out in the dark. And that meant he was truly gone. Forget that he was her source of food and protection, she was also the only person she had ever seen or spoken to or loved. Her heart felt as though it had shattered into sharp little pieces. Her soul felt pierced. She lay in a slump, crying in brutal belief. And when she finally stopped sobbing she wondered at the quiet: it was night outside, but where were the screams of the infected?

She pressed her ear to the door... silence?

But they always howled in the darkness? Wasn't it night time?

Maybe it was day afterall and her father would come back! But then... Why couldn't she see out the window.

Hesitating every inch of the way, she crawled back to her father's room, and stared at the window. It pitch black outside. Maybe she needed to open the window, perhaps there was another shutter or some boards on the outside that her father put up when it wasn't in use?

She pried at the edges of the window frame with her little fingers, gliding them along the crevices as best she could. Then she felt something-- a latch or lock of some sort. It clicked when she pressed it, and the window burst open-- light spilled on her bewildered face. But this wasn't the outside she had seen last night....

This outside looked like an inside, and the most shocking thing of all: There was a woman sitting at a desk, just on the other side of their window-- and the woman was talking, or seemed to be. But she wasn't making a sound.

She didn't look infected though. She looked... normal. Like her father, and like Rosita's own reflection.

She slumped to her knees and stared in confusion, then the woman vanished and a different outside was visible: the real outside. And it was dark out. A huge mob of the infected, milling about in the night, and she began to despair... but....

These infected, they... Were they smiling?

Some of them were drinking, others seemed to be laughing. There were so many, hundreds at the very least, probably even billions.

And they were dressed strangely, in very warm looking clothes that covered most of their bodies.

Healthy people! Not infected, but happy! She'd discovered them! By happy chance!

Could they see her too?

She banged on the window and yelled and waved. But they took no notice.

So she contented herself to watch. And though it had been forbidden, she could hardly wait to show her father!

Any punishment she'd earned by entering his room and looking out the window without him there, that would certainly be forgotten, because beyond all hope she'd found people who were clearly not infected. And they weren't even hiding?

Her mind reeled, and she couldn't make sense out of anything she was watching. There seemed to be small explosions of light and glitter, that burst into the air over the people's heads and they were holding eachother and swaying back and forth, and nobody was biting or eating anybody else. Though a few were rubbing their face together, but they all seemed so happy about it.

She backed up to her father's bed and sat on the covers to watch them. And she felt something under the blankets, something odd.

She reached underneath and found a plastic device with an array of buttons. She'd never seen it before in her life. But there was a button labeled 'power', and another labeled 'mute' and many others besides.

Rosita pressed one of the buttons at random, and sound blossomed into the room, and it was coming from the window.

A woman was talking, and the sound of a female voice other than her own nearly collapsed her heart from the sheer weight of her confusion: "That's right Ryan, here we are live at Times Square, New York City-- look how many people have come out tonight to ring in the new year! You can really feel the excitement in the air! Everybody is full of so much hope for what 2023 might have in store! We've got a truly incredible line up for tonight's celebration, but before we welcome our first performers let's take a peek at the wider world and appreciate the incredible events that are staged all around the globe!"

Bewildered and lost in the light and sound of it all, she watched the entire celebration. Finally Rosalita fell asleep in front of that window, and she did not hear the front open. But she did jolt awake when she heard his frantic scream from the hallway and she couldn't wait to share the good news with the man she'd always known as her father.

***