Darkness

Darkness – Beulah Lee Harris

The lights went out at one minute past midnight. As the darkness descended like a shroud covering every streetlamp, the ceiling-fan slowed to a devastating stop and the muggy heat fell like a heavy warm blanket.

               Shana tossed and turned, listening to the silence for a while but could not get comfortable. She opened the glass sliding door inviting in whatever slight breeze was teasing the night.

               Using her torch on her cellphone, she began to read, but James Patterson failed to enthrall as she had to keep putting the cellphone down to wipe the tickling perspiration away from her eyes. Looking out at the darkness, feeling restless, powerless and very sorry for herself, not even her over-active mind could conceive that worse was to come - much worse than the discomfort of having no power for a short while. She had no idea that her small world was about to be destroyed, that life as she and everyone around her knew it would be changing with devastating consequences.

               South Africa was having regular power outages due to previously poorly maintained plants and the grids were taking strain. It was common for some areas to be without powers for up to three hours a day.

           One morning the country lost all its power, every city, town and village, all at the same time…not just for a few hours, but for many days. Businesses, large and small, suffered greatly as produce spoiled and the huge losses caused the rising price of fuel and food shortages. Generators were selling out, fuel became scarce and even those scornful of stock-piling became panicked.       

           After the fourth day she convinced her husband that they needed go get more supplies including more charcoal and wood to cook with as they were running out fast.

           Their local store was closed due to lack of stock so they travelled further to another store only to return home with a just few bags of charcoal, one small tin of coffee, two boxes of cereal, one six pack of long-life milk, two cases of baked beans, a few tins of corn and pack of toilet rolls.

That was all they could get. There was no fruit, no bread, no cheese, nor any meat left in the store. As she had been about to pick up the last two packs of long-life milk, she deferred to a young crying mother and let her have one pack of the milk. When they had paid and left, they saw the store close its doors although it was only eleven a.m. They traveled even further to other stores but they were all closed.

           Angry agitators sabotaged the already drought affected water reservoirs and pharmacies and other stores that sold non-consumables were closed due to violent theft. The military patrolled the streets arresting potential looters. People stopped working, presses stop printing. The only people in the streets other than the military, were those to be afraid of.

           Those with good stocks of water and gutter tanks were fortunate. Those without had nothing to drink, nothing to bathe with or clean their floors with. Swimming pools were used to fill cisterns and green-house produce survived only because of the rain, but these were soon pillaged. Within weeks the country became a disease-ridden crime-infested war zone.

           How had they not seen this coming? She often thought it’s got to be over soon, this cannot last.

           She was grateful for the water, the bit of food they had, and petrified of the future. Her hair products were finished and she was washing her hair with a tiny bit of water and bath soap. Her skin felt dry and her body felt unhealthy. The most depressing of all was not being in touch with her son in Australia, knowing that he would be worried as he could not reach them. Communication was impossible as the internet did not work and cellphones could not charge. Who had landlines these days?

           Her husband, who seldom drank alcohol, tried to lift her spirits one evening. He told her that she was beautiful despite her matted hair, as he served them cold beans for dinner by candlelight and opened a bottle of wine for her, and then another. She fell asleep in a drunken stupor, for once blissfully unaware of the world around her.

           It was hot. The door was open but it was still so hot. Her head ached as she sat up and opened her eyes. What had woken her? Then she heard it…the hissing.  A snake, there was snake in the room! Her throat closed with fear, she could not utter a word. Her husband snored quietly and she watched the snake slither across the moonlit floor. Suddenly a raging anger overtook her fear.  She reached for the bedside lamp, the only ‘weapon’ at hand, and stood up to confront the snake. Bring it on, she thought raising the lamp to hit the snake, I have nothing to lose, anything is better than this, so do your worst! The snake raised itself into a striking position and she knew then that it was a deadly mamba.  She stayed still, closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. 

           When she awoke, the sun was bright and hurt her eyes. If her eyes had not hurt she would have thought she was in purgatory while God decided which way she deserved to go. Or perhaps she had died weeks ago and had been living in hell all this time. She looked at the floor but there no snake. She inspected her arms and legs for bite marks, there were none. What was that smell? It was…no, it could not be bacon? Just then her husband put his head around the door.

            “Ah, my sleeping beauty awakes! I’ll bring you some coffee, and then how about breakfast in bed with the Sunday papers? I’ve made bacon, eggs and baked beans.”

           She reached up and touched her pillow-tousled hair which felt silky and soft now, not matted and dry. She smiled up at her husband and said, “That will be lovely, darling. But no baked beans. For some reason, I just can’t stomach the thought of baked beans.”

END