0800 Hours [slash]

0800 Hours: Recording #026

Click.

"0800 hours. I think this is gonna be my last tape."

A small laugh flutters in the wind, whipped into the air like a feather, light and floating.

"I guess if you've found these tapes, then you're like us. Maybe you're like Cye and you're naturally immune, but you've been stuck with that awful fucking biohazard tag. Or maybe you're like me. And you're not immune, just lucky. Haha. I didn't feel lucky, not at first. But I am. I'm lucky to have been left behind when they 'evacuated' my dad. I'm lucky to have met Cye. At this point, I'm really fucking lucky just to be alive."

A faint fizzle of rain brushes the microphone. It's soft and gentle, the first rains of a new spring.

"Cye was not impressed when I told him my plan for these recordings. We're going to leave copies all over the country, you see, so that the other people left behind can find them. Cye wanted to just leave the last security tape, but I think all of them are important. I started recording myself because I wanted to preserve what happened to us regular people at the end of the world. And well, this is what happened to me. It's what happened to Cye. What happened to Dr Helen, and my parents, and every other normal person who got fucked over. And I won't let that get swept under the rug. I won't let the world forget about the normal people this time."

A distant voice calls out, rich with fondness.

"Cam, can you hurry the fuck up please? Samuel and Dr Helen are here!"

"Oh fuck! Sorry babe, I'm nearly done."

"Why are you literally the most disorganised human being that's ever lived? I've eaten fucking sandwiches with a greater sense of urgency than you."

"Oh, get fucked. You love me."

"...Yeah, I do."

"Tha gaol agamsa ort fhèin. That's Gaelic for 'I love you too', by the way."

"I know."

The exchange ends with a particularly pleased little sigh. The sort of sigh that's framed by a smirk and utterly exudes satisfaction.

"Anyway, like I said, we're planning on distributing these around. Dr Helen's made a fucking awesome respirator to keep me safe, and it looks incredibly badass. Cye definitely swooned when he saw it. Fuck, I almost swooned myself."

The rain slows to a hazy mist.

"I don't really know where we'll go once we've finished scattering the tapes. Depends on whether we meet anyone, I guess. I hope we do. Maybe we'll all go to France and eat crêpes. Or Denmark - Cye's always wanted to visit Copenhagen. Probably not like this, but that can't be helped. I don't really mind where we end up. As long as I'm with Cye, I'm good."

The sentiment wanders into a pensive pause.

"It's funny - usually I can barely control my own mouth, but right now I can hardly think of what to say."

The wind whistles, a delicate note from a lilting flute. 

"I think I just want to tell you that if you've found these tapes, then I'm sorry. This... well, it's a shitty thing to wrap your head around. I get it. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it now."

The words fade into a thoughtful, faraway silence. 

"But more importantly, if you've found these tapes then that means you're still alive. And it might feel like you're the last person on earth, but you're not. Okay, the Infection was basically a fucking apocalypse event, but we're still here. You're not alone. I've told you everything I know, about the Infection and the lies, about Beith and the vaccine. I guess what you do with that information is up to you."

The speaker hesitates, and then -

"This is Cameron MacRiada, signing off."

Click.