I walk past the empty swimming pool. Well, there’s a mysterious sludge covering the deep end, but even the rats avoid that like the plague. I click the volume up, clutch my corkscrew closer, and carry on walking.

Khalid’s voice drifts from my earphones and carries me. Past the old school building; past a park that’s nothing but scorched earth; past Mia’s house with its faded green walls. I know I should be trying to conserve my phone’s battery, but I can’t deal with my thoughts today.

I ran out of beta blockers yesterday (thank you, skeletonised Mrs Romero) and I’m praying (not that anyone’s listening) that there’ll be some in the pharmacy. Someone has graffitied “fuck the apocalypse” on a wall. I couldn’t agree with them more. I use the corkscrew to underline the message.

I don’t know how many people are left. I’ve seen one or two, but nobody trusts anyone else anymore. Not since Bennie Knupps bribed his business class into taking over the high school. He’s hoarding all the ready-made meals from the cafeteria and even killed poor Mrs Romero when she tried to get some first aid stuff. He’s using her as a warning. But he didn’t need to make her into a scarecrow- that’s just excessive. I used the corkscrew to cut away the ropes holding her in place. Just because I hated geography doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve respect.

I also don’t know how many bombs were dropped. Too many? That orange toddler of a president was too busy shaking hands with Nazis and scrolling through Twitter to realise what was happening. The first explosion hit the White House. Not gonna lie- I cheered when it happened. After that communication became nearly impossible and the body count soared. So many towns wiped off the map. How much longer until the power goes out permanently?

I pass Susan, my old neighbour, and her chihuahua Brutus. She’d always offer me cookies- now she only offers me a snarl. I don’t know who gave her the idea to make some dentures out of rats’ teeth, but I hate them. I flash my corkscrew at her, and she shuts her mouth.

Yes! There’s the pharmacy. Abandoned. Looking down, I can still see the stain on the sidewalk where I cooked an egg. I thought it wouldn’t work. It worked a little too well. The smell and sizzle attracted a hoard of cockroaches. I let them have it. Concrete is a bad seasoning anyway. It wasn’t a total fail- I found my handy corkscrew in the gutter.

Okay, aisle nine. I can see where the meth-heads have taken the painkillers and cough syrup and a whole bunch of other drugs. Someone’s even ravaged the vitamin aisle. The end of the world doesn’t mean the end of flu season. There aren’t any prescription anxiety meds left. I settle for homeopathic stuff.

Someone is in here with me. Where’s my corkscrew?