Agoraphobia

Day 16 (I Looked)

At the time, I think I'd have preferred a zombie apocalypse to the agoraphobia apocalypse. At least zombies don't talk, cry, threaten, scheme, or beg. At least you don't feel guilty when you turn your back on a zombie.

It was day sixteen. I was walking home after "borrowing" more groceries from the convenience store.

"Hi, there," greeted a woman sweetly from a building's doorway. "Could you please come over here for a minute?..." I kept walking. I didn't look at her. I didn't WANT to look at her. I knew from experience, looking only made it harder. I didn't want the voice to be connected to a face. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save any of them. I had to concentrate on saving my family. "...It will just take a minute. I see you have water. Please, may I have some water? I know you don't have enough for everyone, but may I have a little? Please... Do you like candy?... I have candy. Lots of candy. Would you like some?" I kept walking. "Come back, please... Please!... Come back! PLEASE DON'T GO!!!"

Her cries alerted others. Soon, many were yelling at me. Some from windows high up. Some from doorways near the street. I ignored them. I kept walking. I didn't look at them. I didn't want to look at them...

"Is that food? Where are you taking it? Can I have some?"

"Please help! I've four kids up here!! Why won't you help us!?!"

"Where are your parents?! Tell them to send help! Can you hear us?!"

"UP HERE!! Are you fucking deaf!?! Why won't you help us, you little shit!?!

"Do you have water? Please! We need water, or we'll die!"

"My daddy needs special medicine. He fell asleep, and now won't wake up!"

"Listen carefully: my wife and I don't need you to give us any supplies! We just need you to help us move the gutter's downspout, so we can direct rainwater into the building! It will literally only take a few seconds!"

"God can see what you're doing! He'll punish you in HELL if you don't help!!"

"We need you to contact the Pentagon and tell them to send assistance!"

I ignored them. I kept walking. I didn't look at them. I didn't want to—

"It's you again!" observed a man from a ground-floor window just a few feet away. I didn't look at him. I just kept walking. "I need your help. I need help with my puppy." I stopped walking when he said "puppy", but I didn't look. I didn't want to look. "My puppy needs food and water. He's sick. See? Look? He needs your help." I didn't want to look. It would only make it harder on me if I looked. I had to concentrate on saving my family. "His name is Rosco." continued the man. "He'll die without water. Look... See?"

I didn't want to look... but I looked. The man was holding a puppy. A real puppy. He was not trying to trick me with a stuffed animal or a puppet. He was holding a real puppy. A cute puppy. Why did I look? It only made it harder to look away again. My lips parted, but no words came out. My tongue was heavy with what went unsaid. I turned and walked away crying. "Where are you going? Come back! We will both die without water... PLEASE!!!... COME BACK!!!"

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I'd successfully run the dangerous and emotionally draining gauntlet of desperate people. I was crossing the museum's parking lot. It was a "safe zone" - too far to be harassed by the dying, but not yet inside where the handsome man might be lurking. I relaxed, leisurely pulling my wagon of supplies toward the entrance.

Suddenly, in my path, there was a huge pit bull. It was taller than me and had a strong, solidly built muscular body covered in short brown fur. It possessed a short tapered tail and pointed semi-pricked ears. The pit bull's blocky head was wedge-shaped with wrinkles on top. And its huge gaping maw was smeared with blood. Fuck.

The pit bull barked at me. With a shaky hand, I slid my pepper spray gun from its holster. My whole body trembled as I pointed the "gun" at the intimidating animal.

The huge pit bull regarded my weapon with a curious head tilt. Then it sniffed the air. The dog quickly lost interest and yawned so big I could see down his throat all the way to his tail. An enormous tongue plopped out of his mouth, bobbing up and down. The pit bull moseyed over and smelled me warily. Next he smelled my wagon and started poking his face into the bags.

"Hey!" I protested, still pointing my pepper spray gun at him. "Get out of there!" The pit bull immediately pulled his face out and backed away, head hung in shame. "That's human food," I scolded. "If I let humans starve, I'm sure as hell not going to feed a DOG... Scram!" I strode toward the museum, pulling my wagon behind me. The pit bull slowly followed.

I was at the entrance. The edge of my "safe zone". I hesitated, wondering if the handsome man had escaped. 

The pit bull sidled up next to me. We both scanned the interior. The huge dog entered and sniffed around. "I guess the handsome man would be less likely to attack if you're with me," I conceded. The pit bull didn't respond. He was the strong, silent type.

I sighed and let him escort me to the loft.

---------------------------------------------------

"It followed me home," I told my parents. "We need to decide if we are going to keep it, get rid of it, or eat it." I was quite serious about eating the pit bull. Those were desperate times.

"You can't EAT him," advocated Valerie.

"Why not?"

"Because his name is 'Bryce'. You can't eat something with a name."

"How do you know his name is 'Bryce'?"

"Because I just named him 'Bryce'. Isn't that right, Bryce?" We all looked at Bryce with his huge bobbing tongue.

My sister was right. By naming the dog, she took him off the menu.

Valerie fondled Bryce's ear. "Besides, he's cute."

"I'd feel better knowing he was with you when you leave the loft," admitted my mother. "But we must remember he's a WORK animal. Not a pet. He will work for his supper by protecting you whenever you leave the loft."

"So we're keeping him as a bodyguard?" I asked.

My parents exchanged glances. Then nodded.

Bryce yawned.

[I'd love to read your comments and suggestions. What do you think of Bryce?]