Weekend in Wasteland

When I came home on Friday night, I saw the security guard roll the barriers in front of the main entrance.

“Another lockdown?” I asked, and picked up my fried chicken food delivery bag from the security desk.

“Shì de” (yes,) he nodded, “Wǔyè kāishǐ” (starting at midnight.)

“But why?”

He shrugged his shoulders, and walked away.

I stepped into the elevator and scanned my phone in front of the digital panel. The key card popped up on my phone screen, and I pressed the button for my floor. I saw there was a new notice posted on the wall inside the elevator. I pulled up the Baidu translation app, and scanned the Chinese text. It confirmed what the security guard told me earlier, but what he didn’t say was that we would be under lockdown for five days, during which time we won’t be allowed to leave.

As soon as I got into my apartment, I sat down, and devoured the fried chicken. Then I started cleaning, and collected the garbage to take downstairs. I took a long shower, changed into my pajamas, and went into the living room. I picked up my phone, it was 11:37 PM. I should go downstairs before it’s too late, I thought, as I laid down on the couch, and closed my eyes for a few minutes.

After I threw the stuff in the recycling bin, I went to the garbage disposal area door, but realized that I forgot my phone upstairs. I’m so stupid, I recalled that the phone was on the couch when I laid down, it must have snuck under one of the throw pillows. To access communal area doors from outside, or to take the elevators going back up, you need an NFC activated key card, which was installed on my phone. Fuck me, there wasn’t enough time. I remembered that when I left my apartment, it was around 11:45 PM, and the lockdown was starting at midnight.

I banged on the door as hard as I could, I shouted, but the only ones that could hear me were the rats searching for food. There has to be another way, I thought. I walked around to see what other doors were there. If I could find the one that led to the streets, I would be free. I came across a metal shutter that looked like the ones used for garage doors. Maybe this is it, I thought. I found a switch on the wall next to it. I pressed it, and the shutter went up. I did a fist pump. But when the shutter stopped rolling, I saw a dark room with empty cardboard boxes in it. I pressed the switch again, and sighed.

As I stepped away from the closed metal shutter, I heard something, so I paused and turned around. Someone or something squeaked. I walked towards it, the area was dark as a cave. The squeaks got louder. “Hello,” I said. The squeaks dulled down. Must be rats, I thought. As I stood there in silence, in the middle of the darkness, in hopelessness, the squeaks started again. I tiptoed towards the sound. As I walked closer to it, I saw a light coming in, it looked like a fog in the middle of a full moon night. The air smelled of food, not the stale dumpster kind, but homemade, something my grandmother would have made. I felt like I was Alice in Wasteland.

It can’t be rats, I thought. The squeaks were rhythmic, there was a pattern to it, almost mechanic. The closer I got, the rustier it sounded. I stumbled over a cemented ledge, and stepped into an open area. The floor was concrete, six wheel barrels in the center, bright yellow with studs on them. One of the wheels was turning, and then it stopped. How is that possible? I scanned the area, but there was no one around.

“Hello,” I said, “Nǐ hǎo,” I raised my voice.

I heard foot steps, they sounded light, like barefoot. And then I saw half of the face of a little girl emerge from behind the wall. She giggled. Why is she not scared? I thought, but I am. “Nǐ hǎo,” I cleared my throat.

She giggled, and ran away. I followed her, but the space between the walls was too narrow for me, so I squeezed in, and walked sideways to get to the other side. Fried chicken always makes me bloated, I thought, I should have drank my kombucha before coming downstairs.

When I got to the other side, there was a small room, with red water pipes on the ceiling, and freshly washed clothes were hanging from them. There was an old couple sitting on the floor, eating. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said.

They stood up, and said something in Chinese, which I didn’t understand. I looked at the little girl, “do you speak English?” I asked. She giggled, and held the old lady’s hand. I did a phone call gesture. “Méiyǒu shǒujī” (I have no phone,) I said in my broken Chinese. The old man pulled out his phone from his front pocket and passed it to me. But I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know the security guard’s or the management office’s number, and I couldn’t explain my dilemma to them either. I searched his phone to see if he had any translation app, but everything was in Chinese, so I sighed.

“Wǒmen chī ba” (let’s eat,) the old lady said. The old man took the phone back. The little girl giggled.

“I’m so sorry to barge in” I said, “I’ll leave now.” I turned around and squeezed into the narrow walled opening. But all of a sudden, someone held my hand. I turned to look, it was the little girl. She pointed at the food, and covered her mouth with her hands. I stepped back into the room, and sat down on the floor. The old man passed me a hot pan that was still sizzling. I grabbed it. There were rats inside the pan, rolling on wheel barrels, and the squeaks got louder. I looked up, “is this for real?”

I threw the pan on the floor, and the rats jumped out straight at me.

I woke up. I was still on the couch, in my apartment. I picked up my phone. It was 11:47 PM.

Holy shit, I got up, I should go downstairs to throw the garbage. I put the phone down on the coffee table, walked into the kitchen, and picked up the trash.

I still have 10 minutes before the lockdown happens, I thought. I came out, and the apartment door shut behind me.