Vines of Hunger | ONC 2024

chapter two | the tilting of people

The figures blurred past us as the taxi sped through the winding streets of the backed-up city, leaving very little to witness within the bright yellow vehicle. The large cover of golden light was setting just beyond our backs as we sat in the sanitised seats, my Nana staring out the window; her wary eyes fleeting between each person gathering near the retail stores with roller trolleys filled with an abundance of unnecessary amounts of food, or essentials of what is needed with to keep a household functioning.

A small breath breezes past my dried lips as my fingertips grip the firm cushion beneath my slender thighs.

What is the reason for all these people to rationally believe that there is a reason for buying so much?

The bodies pile together as they surge through the doors of the grocery store, some hanging back, wary of the relentlessness of the crowd shoving their way through the automated doors. You can almost see the ones watching from their cars, twitching at the sight of even the slightest gap for them to slip through.

In one swift motion, I turn my attention away from the stores that now turn back into a blurring mass as the traffic light turns a dull green.

What do I have in my fridge? Or my cabinets? It's coming up to the day that I usually go down to the store to stock back up, but with what's going on out there, and the way people have been acting, I don't think there will be anything left on the shelves once the store closes, or in a worst-case scenario, nothing when they open back up.

I begin to think of ways to ration the food that we have left at home, stored away in the dark corners of our fridge and cupboards.

Is this also connected to the flu? I know that it's progressing to a dangerous point, but those people who did pass from it were more likely at high risk anyway; have medical issues, have low immune systems...or were older in age.

I can't help my gaze shifting toward my Nan-nan as she mumbles a question to the guy in the front seat.

"Sorry, young man, would you mind turning the radio on?" Nana rests her hand against the head of the passenger seat, the veins running just beneath the thin layer of frail skin is no longer the greenish, blue tint that we as a society have all come custom to, but now a dark purplish coursing through her, as if the vines themselves have lost its pigment, and now take on a translucent effect.

The driver's eyes connect with my Nan's, a dread pooling within the depths of his irises.

His fear, everybody's fear.

Just this morning before I left for work, everything was normal, the news played its typical segments; the bigger crimes that happened throughout the city, the tornado that took out half of a town not too far from here and whatever else it bloody played, so why - no how - are people now rummaging through the stores, fear so apparent in their actions?

"Even if it's just for a second, my dear."

The man is hesitant as his gaze flicks between us and the now car-ridden roads, crashing us in, unmoving in the traffic jam, but reluctantly he gives us a small smile as he pulls his hand from the wheel, leaving a sweat mark where his palm had just been gripping.

"Yeah, no, of course. Sorry, the news has just been," he breaths out, somehow not letting the tension in his body out, "it's been...not something I want to be thinking about while working,"

An automated voice cracks through on the man's radio filling the awkward void that had once been there, "the casualty rate for the flu that has recently surfaced, now spiking close to six thousand within just a few hours. The professionals over at the local testing facility have now confirmed a title to put to this ever-fast-growing epidermic, now named the Deirigh Virus, as it no longer is classed as a flu-" the static flicks off quickly as the man thrusts his fingers into the button, his knuckles now pale as his grip tightens.