12

After that, there was no more water or electricity.

December 15th, the 29th day of the lockdown.

Just as everything seemed to be settling into a routine, I started to develop a fever.

I spent the night shivering under the blankets, unable to get up even by noon the next day.

Anne noticed my pale face and touched my forehead to check my temperature.

"Jeez... you're burning up. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

she grumbled as she went to the medicine cabinet to find some medication.

"You're a vet, Anne. If I told you, would you treat me like a dog?"

I mumbled deliriously. "A vet without any pets at home... you cold-hearted woman."

Ignoring my rambling, she placed a damp towel on my forehead and bustled about doing who knows what.

"My lettuce is about to mature. When I'm gone, make sure to harvest it..."

I closed my eyes, my consciousness fading.

"Stop talking nonsense. If you keep this up, I'll pull out all your precious lettuce," she shouted from the kitchen.

I don't know how much time passed before she woke me up.
"Anne's cooking porridge. I guess I'll die quicker after eating it," I muttered as I took the bowl with trembling hands.

"What?"

"I mean... I'll recover quicker after eating it," I quickly corrected myself.

"You better," she huffed, warningly.

After a few sips, I paused, "Anne, I had another dream last night."
I wasn't privy to any insider information. I was just an ordinary person who stumbled into this situation.

She listened quietly as I recounted the dream.

Finally, she said, "The brain collects and processes far more information than we realize, much of it stored in our subconscious and presented through dreams. Intuition is really your subconscious helping you make decisions. And it often proves correct."

"I figured. You don't have any 'legitimate' friends," she said with a look of realization.

I took it as her insulting herself, slurping down two large mouthfuls of porridge and a chopstick full of pickles.

It was so delicious I felt like I was being reborn.

After taking the medicine, I started to feel drowsy again.

Anne sat nearby, writing in her notebook.

In my haze, it felt like I had returned to pre-apocalypse days.

At this time, children would be playing in the square, and the occasional car would rumble over speed bumps with a "clunk."

Fever made me feel lightheaded. So when the doorbell rang, I didn't think anything was wrong.

It wasn't until I saw Anne's shocked expression that I realized the seriousness of the situation.

Who could it be?

We tiptoed to the door.

A young man stood outside, his face obscured by the dim hallway light.

"He's here for us," Anne whispered after listening for a moment.

As we hesitated, the doorbell rang again, showing no signs of giving up.

"Can I help you?" I finally mustered the courage to ask.

"You must have extra vegetable seeds. Could we trade?"

His voice was soft, but it felt like a thunderclap to me.

How did he know?

I felt a chill down my spine, replying stiffly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

After a pause, he said, "Okay, sorry to bother you." It seemed he expected our answer.

I heard rustling at the door and peeked to see him hoisting his backpack.

"Wait!" Anne suddenly called out, "What will you trade with us?"

I didn't understand her plan. With our supplies, we didn't need to trade with anyone.

"I have some cookies, water, and instant noodles. What do you need?"

"How many of you are there?" she asked.

"Just me."

"It's hard for us to trust you."

He fell silent again.

"So you'll have to wait at the end of the hallway. I'll bring the seeds to you."

"Are you crazy? You're going out there?" I grabbed her.

Anne looked serious, gripping my hand in return, "This is an opportunity... I need to try."

I didn't understand her. "Wait..."

Anne's voice was soft but firm, "No matter what happens, don't open the door, got it?" Before I could say more, she turned the handle. Their conversation through the door was muffled, but I could catch the gist.

"What's your name?"

"Chris Carter."

"How did you know we had seeds?"

"I noticed it unintentionally. Plus, your balcony is quite conspicuous."

"You don't seem to lack food."

"I don't."

"You can even cook simple meals."

"You could say that."

"Where do you get your supplies?"

"I regularly resupply at a convenience store," he said.

Suddenly, their conversation stopped.

Through the peephole, I saw them standing by the hallway window, looking at something.

I turned to look outside. The sky was grey, and it had started to drizzle.

The raindrops were fine and light.

After a while, Anne knocked on the door.

When I opened it, the young man stood beside her, his face calm but with deep, unreadable eyes.

"Helen," Anne said, "It's raining, and Chris will stay with us tonight."

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