Skitter

Once each person was awake, I had to warn them.  But that wasn’t simple – apartments without power didn’t have light, either.  For many, I could put the bugs on the window and spell out words with their silhouettes, but there were people with blinds and curtains that would obscure that.  I forced myself to use the bug’s sensory inputs, to seek out the biggest patches of light and warmth in each room where a person was being woken up, so the bugs could cluster in those spots and hopefully be seen.

But what could I write?  I looked at my cell phone to see how much time I had left. For some, where I had enough bugs and space to write, I told the bugs to spell out ‘Glass explosion 28 min’.  For the places I didn’t, I spelled out ‘take cover’ or ‘hide under bed’.

Thousands of people, a thousand warnings.  I couldn’t be sure that everyone saw or listened and I couldn’t hang back to make things clearer or pass on more detailed information.  It was stupid and selfish, but I had to reach my dad.  Not for any greater plan or for the greater good, but for me.  Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.

Plague 12.5