Here to Stay

[Dogs231]

S091: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED FROM "Stranger in the Alps"

Claire stood in the hallway. Outside, through the cracks of the old windows, vague with dirt and fingerprints, she could hear the cold wind. It would be a cold night, but they'd survived worse back home. In a way, this island wasn't that far from what they once called normal. As she thought, a voice came through the radio. It was familiar.

Evie.

She held the radio tightly—as if something was there, watching, lurking, ready to rip it out of her hands. There was no such thing. She brought it to her face, stared at it, and paused. Then, she spoke: "I'm here." The truth and nothing more. She didn't want to leave her companion grasping at vague straws, so she continued.

"Over."

Earlier, Evie had wanted to say that. Deep down, so had Claire. But practicality trumped fun on an island where their lives were always at stake. It was better not to be wasteful, but it was a glimmer of joy in a place where that was in short supply. And, honestly, it was just something nice and whimsical in their grim reality.

"I'll come and join you."

A stop. A smile.

"Over."

Then, Claire shut the radio off, turned, and then, without delay, went back inside the room. She knew that no monsters were lurking there—only a friend. So, her right hand turned the doorknob, and there was no hesitation. She stepped into the room with the rows and rows of hospital beds. A smile grew across her face as she looked at her companion.

"We should eat something," she said. As far as she knew, neither had eaten since they'd awoken on this island. She pulled out the tin of crackers from her bag, opened it, and popped one in her mouth. It reminded her of halcyon days at home as a child when she'd eat saltines with her mom. They'd squabble over who got the crumbs.

Those were the best parts.

Perhaps it was the fond memories, or maybe they were just decent crackers, but they tasted good, a slice of home in the apocalypse. She offered one to Evie, but the other girl had her own. Her offer got shot down in short order, like an unskilled pilot in a dogfight. She closed the tin, ate one of the energy bars, and had some water.

It was okay.

"I'm sleepy," Claire said, blinking. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in ages. She could run on the minimal amount—plenty of late nights spent on last-minute assignments and midnight gaming sessions taught her that—but, sooner or later, her battery would run dry. And, right now, it seemed that would happen sooner rather than later.

In voice chats with friends, she'd often joked about having something called "sleepy bitch disease." The truth was, she wasn't the kind of person who did much sleeping. Often, she was up all night, staring at the ceiling, anxieties flowing freely through her head, or staring at her computer because she knew she wouldn't fall asleep at all.

Eventually, though, she'd tire. And then, she'd pass into a dreamless slumber, into nothing—an empty void of consciousness. She rarely had dreams or nightmares, just darkness. Here, though, perhaps those night terrors would come. The pleasant dreams would stay far away like they always had. She had nothing to look forward to in sleep.

The coming day was more important.

Claire moved towards one of the beds and sat down—like an automaton, she barely thought about the actions as she took them. She laid her head on the bed, curled up in her long coat, and drifted quickly. She was so tired that she barely noticed the tangles in her hair or the pain coursing through her body, from her joints to her back to her neck.

Eventually, they'd need to leave this place. But for now, Claire remained.

S091: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED IN "The Domesday Book"