The Beginning of The End

To my house

Sophia

If this experience has taught me anything it would be to face my fears because if I can get through this I can get through anything. The human mind is only created with two fears - one is falling which is quite obvious as it often means you could seriously hurt yourself; the other is loud noises. Those are not necessarily things you are scared of but they normally make you jump which is a kind of fear really. I think that now I would happily fall from the top of a 16 story building if someone told me they were going to catch me and I believed them because I have been forced to face things that seemed much worse to me at the time. My experiences have left me in a state where I don't know what to think so I will go along with anything. I doubt that I will ever have to prove my fearlessness as my hopes dwindle. Time is moving on fast as it always does and I am struggling to keep up. But back then my fears where too strong to cope with.

***

We encountered no bees as we headed across the cul-de-sac to my next door neighbours house. Same situation as we went through the gate to the back garden and as we made our way to the back door. I didn't believe my neighbours would leave the front door open as anyone could get in, not that anyone would want to, not that anyone would be near this small dwelling on a nearly uninhabited street in the middle of this crisis but you never know. But I knew there would be some way to get through.

Sure enough, the window next to the back door had been left slightly open and a key was perched on the window ledge. The door was locked but with help from the other two we got our fingers under the window and pushed up. It required quite a lot of strength which I didn't have. The window slowly rose allowing us to retrieve the key.

I unlocked the door. Where to look now?

"Do you know where the basement is?" Obviously, Hattie couldn't read my thoughts or she wouldn't have had to ask.

"I have never been inside here before. I only knew that there was a backdoor because I used to play here with their grandson when I was younger." And when mum forced me too. My mind added. It was true I hated to spend time with anyone even when I was younger I would rather be lost in the pages of a book where I didn't have to be me and I could pretend to be a hero. Too bad I wasn't in a story right now or I could skip a few pages so I had half a clue what was going to happen and find out a way to make it better. "We might as well try the kitchen." It was just off the utility room we had emerged through or at least that is the only room I imagined would be through the door directly in front of me.

Automatically I went and checked the fridge door. I knew what I was looking for now and even though I had no clue what would be on the fridge door I instantly spotted the thing I was hoping to find. The big pink post-it note was in the middle of the fridge door sandwiched in between a list of phone numbers and some nature drawings that had obviously been done by Ethan.

Once again the message wasn't long and had been written in such a rush my mum had forgotten to sign it in her usual way.

Thought you might need some help. The stairs are under the stairs. Mum x

The others had busied themselves. Hattie was scanning the side next to the sink. Some unwashed dishes lay there. The remains of some marmalade sandwiches spread on top. John was examining the cupboards which had been emptied in a hurry. The doors hung wide open a battered tin had fallen onto the floor.

I gestured for the others to come over so they could read the message still tapped on to the fridge door.

I could tell my mum's note was a riddle to them even before John spoke. "Does your mum often talk in riddles?"

I smiled. But I remember that they still knew nothing about me. "Only when she's in a rush." It's an artist thing I think because Miss Evans often does it too. We didn't have time for them to work it out - in the distance, I could hear a faint buzzing. Oh god. My heart was pumping adrenaline through my veins fuelling me to move faster.

I lead them through the other door that led away from the kitchen. We emerged in a small hallway. The stairs were on the far side a bit further up the corridor. Directly opposite us stood a storeroom that had been emptied of blankets in a hurry. The door had been left open and the remaining items were scattered carelessly around, some even spilt out into the corridor. From what I could remember this was very unlike my neighbours. Their house was kept clean and tidy; the garden was neat with the grass cropped short.

It was different to our house. The grass in our garden was starting to grow wild and was overdue a trim. The flower beds hadn't been weeded in weeks but the weeds created a natural beauty you could achieve using plants brought in from the garden centre. However, I made it my purpose to keep the house respectable just in case we had the rare occasion when visitors might come over. The only messy room was mum's art studio that directly overlooked the untamed garden. Her easel stood in the middle in front of the window, the walls were full of half finishes painting, canvases were stacked against the wall in messy piles and unwashed paint brushes were left on the small wooden table that was positioned in reaching distance of the easel.

I half dragged the others to the small door in the staircase. It only looked big enough to be a cupboard but looks can be deceiving. I could almost hear my friend's brain clicking with realisation.

John reached out and turned the doorknob. There was a quiet swoosh as the door swung open.

We frantically searched for a light switch. The buzzing was louder now. My friends could hear it too. It sounded too close for comfort.

I came across a torch on the ledge by the door. There was another post-it note attached to it. I bought the note out into the light and read it. It was not written in my mum's messy hand. Instead, it was a smart writing like a font on the computer. The words were scrawled in blue biro. The note was as plain, simple and to the point as the writing itself.

Lights are broken so we have to use torches.

It wasn't signed but I guessed this was Joyce. Her note written as it would be spoken. She always treated me like I was 3 and didn't understand a word she was saying. Like everyone else, she didn't get me. I'm shy, not stupid.

We moved into the darkness and John closed the door behind us plunging us into darkness. I flicked the torched into life and shone it around to get a better understanding of our surroundings. We were standing on a small, cupboard-sized platform. The walls were lined with shelves and hooks for storage. A small staircase plunged down into the earth opposite the door. At the bottom of the stairs stood the contents of the cupboards and storeroom that had been deemed useful- Tins of food, extra blankets and torches. A heater was plugged into one of the two sockets. The rest of the room was positioned out of site around the corner. The basement appeared to be huge, spanning the whole length of the house.

I made my way down the stairs closely followed by Hattie and John. The light from the torch didn't reach far and it was easily getting lost in the eerie darkness. The beam bounced about as if it had a life of its own as I walked, my hands shaking. Every step took us further into blackness.

The buzzing had been lost behind the close door but my body sensed they were still there. My mind instantly wondered what was keeping them away. Was it the dark? I hardly believed that would stop them. Or the door? What was it made of? Wood- 10cm thick. If they could get through reinforce double glazing I didn't believe a cheap wood chip door would stop them. They could probably break it down by using their full-sized bodies as a battering ram. But I had no other ideas.

They never followed us. I thought we had had a lucky escape. Maybe they hadn't spotted us. But with the buzzing clearly loud enough to hear that was unlikely too.

The black was looming around us. The pathetic torchlight did nothing to stop it. Someone looking up might see the face of two people and another in shadow hovering in a sea of black.

I felt trapped in a basement prison guarded by bees who wanted everyone dead.

We reached the bottom of the stairs after what felt like miles of descent. I shone the torch back up the stairs to check that my friends still trailed after me. The door felt unreachably far away. A large blank, black space spread out from our feet. It was littered with a few simple possessions, survival items and treasure that were normally kept hidden from people (such as a broken deck chair and a paddling pool with a giant tear in it that I faintly remember from a childhood that seemed to me like they happened a lifetime ago).

My mum was sat on a box that we had used when we moved and mum had never thrown away. I was sure it now contained tins of food and other important items we'd need if we spent a bit of time down here. My neighbours were sat next to her. They spoke in hushed tones and turned around to stare at us as we crossed the last few meters separating our two groups. Technically there was a lot more than a few meters between us - it was more like a lifetime of differences.

Mum looked surprised to see Hattie and John behind me but she wasn't worried. She has a unique way of showing her emotions that most people can't interpret. I struggle to do it sometimes and I am supposedly her daughter and genetically half of me came from her. Probably only the looks side of things; our personalities were nothing alike.

We slung our bags down with the other stuff and perched on the floor in front of them. No one said anything.

I switched the torch off. A desk lamp was plugged into the only other socket down here. Oh, perfect in order to charge our phones which were our only connection to the outside world we would have to go without light or heat. I switched mine off to save battery power and instantly felt further away from civilization than ever even though I was only one door down from my house.

I strained my ears listening for even the faintest buzz. When I was sure I could hear nothing. I broke the silence. "Hi, mum. Hello Joyce. Hello Keith."

My mum broke the tension by launching into a long rambled conversation consisting of myriad questions. It made me smile to think that even in the middle of a crisis mum could still be mum. "Hi, nice to see you. How was your day? Was school good? Did you get a lot of homework? Are your art grades improving?" And of course, the only question she really cared about other than did I share any of her creative flare - Art was her GCSE choice, not mine. "Who are your friends?" She put a lot of emphasis on the word friends.

I looked at the shocked expression on my friends face knowing they were thinking how different I was to mum. It didn't surprise me - anyone who met me and mum noticed it. I would swear we weren't related if I didn't know better. In fact, it was one of the things I actually asked mum when I was younger and my scientific knowledge had developed.

My answer was brief in comparison, starting with the answer she cared about. "This is Hattie and John. School was fine and we didn't get that much homework. Miss Evans says I can get my art grades up if I do well on my final piece but I need your help." I didn't actually want mum's help. In fact, I hated art. But mum liked it if she felt she was helping me. She had 'helped' me improve my drawing skills last year. It took 3 hours every night for a month until mum finally gave up and even then it helped that I had practised technical drawing in my woodwork lessons.

I left Hattie and John being interrogated by my mum and neighbours and disappeared into my head but not before examining the dark, cramped space we would be spending a lot of time in. God, I hate basements. Even now I could feel the darkness closing in on me despite the light radiating from the desk lamp. There were no other light sources. No windows that showed through the earth outside. No skylights. The basement was probably only ever used as extra storage space so those features had never been needed before but now I craved to feel the warm summer breeze on my cheeks. To let my eyes burn in the bright July sunshine. I had only been down here a few minutes and I already missed everything the surface had to offer.

I escaped the gloom the only way I knew possible. Letting the surroundings blend into nothing I let my mind wander over 3,000 miles of earth to America, the land where dreams come true and where my friends now were safe from the horrors that the outside world had to offer in Stanville.