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Indexer  [nederlands]

sun 21 jul 2024: Part 1  After the party.

wed 24 jul 2024: Part 2  Primal feelings.

thu 1 aug 2024: Part 3  The bang.

wed 7 aug 2024: Part 4  Disarray.

mon 23 sep 2024: Part 5  Where to?

thu 12 dec 2024: Part 6  In the bunker.

thu 9 jan 2025: Part 7  Raid.

thu 18 jan 2025: Part 8  Eternal doubt.

wed 29 jan 2025: Part 9  An underground surprise.

 

 
1. After the party.

It was sometime in the afternoon, we were tired and warm from dancing, the night had only just ended.
“Fuck, that was a fun night!”
Manza staggered off the couch in a confused look.
Where were we anyway? It looked like a castle hall, with cold stone floors and stairs, large heavy paneled doors.
We wanted food, and drinks. I felt like having ice cream, with cherry sauce and whipped cream, preferably plant-based of course, far too many animals had already been killed and there was no need for more because of my luxury needs.

In a corner of the hall stood something that looked like an altar, a mountain of pink tulle was draped over it. Why?
Our footsteps echoed through the cold space. Manza disappeared through one of the many doors that opened onto the hall. The closer i got to the altar, the more something seemed to be hidden under the tulle. A black round shape slowly became visible, like a seal in deep sleep.
I touched it very carefully, and a shiver went through the body, or whatever it was.
I saw no head.
The tulle was provided with a stretchy, decorated band halfway around the shape, like a skirt or trousers. I gently pulled the material into the shape i thought it should have, and indeed, it was an enormous skirt that was stretched around the body.
There was no noticeable breathing movement. No sound either, nothing.
I walked cautiously around the beautifully carved altar. Scenes that seemed to come from the Bible were carved into the wood. On the other side i expected to find a face or eyes or a snout on the black shape, but there was nothing to be seen there either.
It looked like a Barbapapa, or Barbabenno then, because it was not that big, and black (was that Barbabenno? Or Barbabella?). But they had faces, and eyes.
What was this?
Was the head on the other side, was the skirt on the wrong side?

On this side of the altar was a scene of barely covered women, their curves so lush – i ran my hand over them, it felt wonderfully cool and tempting, i wanted to lick them but that didn’t seem like a good idea until i knew where i was, and with whom (or what) on the altar.
I draped the tulle from the bottom up, and… had i expected a tail, or legs, or a nondescript Barbapapamama hill?

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2. Primal feelings.

What do you expect anyway, when you look under someone's skirts?
And what if that person isn't a person, but an indefinable life form? What can you expect there?

Maybe because a somewhat chaste skirt was pulled over it, i expected some kind of a genital organ.
At the same moment that i understood that it was a black hole i was staring into, that this was the end of me and perhaps also a new beginning of my existence, in whatever capacity, i was swallowed and woke up.

Gawd, what kind of dream was this? I've had a lot of strange dreams, but this... How does the brain come to something like this? The feeling of being swallowed up: how can your brain know what that feels like, without ever having experienced it? Or is it a universal secret in our collective brain, a primal feeling from long ago, transferred from death to birth to death to new lives again, an endless undulating tide of being and non-being, of coming and going. The similarity with a number of other dreams was striking: the one where i was a second, or the other one, where i was catapulted from my bed into a corner of the room, spinning faster and faster until i landed back in bed with a bang and woke up, completely entangled in the sheets - so much so that it seemed as if i had actually physically spun around. Terrifying.

Less remarkable was that i had dreamed about Manza again. No matter how hard i tried to concentrate on other things, of course i suddenly came across him in a split second of an Instagram video of someone i had no idea there could be a connection with. Immediately my anger and sadness flared up again. And then such a dream, in which there is nothing going on, the sun is shining, the party is going on everywhere and okay, a strange incident on an altar but that wasn't his fault. Or was it a harbinger of even more drama? To be honest, i really had enough of it.

The phone rang, and because of my morning drowsiness i was confused for a moment, but it turned out to be the GP's assistant asking if i wanted to be examined after all and i agreed, even though i immediately regretted it. But postponing it wasn't good either, so well, there was that. I hoped that my body had magically decided to do better than expected.

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3. The bang.

A multicolored pencil drawing of something which could be seen as a big bang, surrounded by many windows lightened by diverse colors, in which the silhouettes of people are visible.


[to be continued]

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4. Disarray.

What it was: nobody knew. At least, that's how it was presented in all media. Experts were approached, authorities questioned, everything as it always goes, many spokespeople from all kinds of departments, organizations, foundations and schools swore that they didn't know what phenomenon had overwhelmed us. Because that's how i could best describe it: overwhelming, frightening, overwhelmed.

Here in Europe we had been somewhat lucky, that it was broad daylight when it happened; the rescue, help and searching of everything that was in ruins got going a lot faster than elsewhere in the world. There were a lot more people sleeping in the dark areas, and here more people were outside and already on their feet - that will certainly explain the higher number of victims in the dark parts of our Earth at that time.

Nevertheless, the Bang had caused enormous damage here too. Many high-rise buildings in particular had been seriously damaged: many flats had collapsed in the hours that followed, which also greatly increased the risk for emergency services. And here too, of course, there were many victims. Everyone was in an uproar, everywhere disarray, shock, disbelief, sadness.
And then especially the biggest question: what on earth was it?

When something happens, you are of course never immediately aware of the scale on which it has taken place. Here in the neighbourhood, where there are mainly low-rise buildings, the damage was not too bad; windows were smashed here and there, cars appeared to be out of order, the electricity grid had failed... we thought it was an unexpectedly large lightning strike. A neighbour suggested that it might have been caused by a fighter jet flying too low - we had those flying over the roof quite often here.
My windows were all still intact, maybe because i had just opened everything up to air it out. I was sitting behind my laptop with a cup of tea, cataloguing some stuff... as usual, really. Because my laptop was charged, i didn't notice the power was off at first. The wifi did go down, though, and the internet was gone. I walked into the back garden, initially, to see if anything else was wrong. I heard someone screaming, in high pitched tones, but i had no idea which house it was coming from. I felt something was wrong, and quickly went inside to put on my shoes; something was severely wrong, and i had no clue why i felt that. It was like goosebumps, something i sometimes feel when i'm close to a stranger - no idea why either, but all i can think is: something's wrong here, get out of here.
Just a month ago i had prepared myself somewhat for emergencies: stockpiled food and water, first aid supplies, cooking supplies, purification tablets, that sort of thing. After asking around i found out that it was best to stockpile one for home, then a rolling suitcase (i had nothing else) in case i had to be evacuated, and then a backpack with the bare essentials, a radio, the first aid kit and some tools.
So i strapped on my backpack, switched off everything and closed and locked it, grabbed a pack of water and went into the neighborhood. Maybe the neighbors knew more, or i could offer help somewhere.

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5. Where to?

Apologies for not giving any updates for a long time.
Quite a few things have happened, my laptop has broken down in the meantime, and i could not upload my life signs anywhere else. As you can see, i have found a way in the meantime, and in a very unbelievable place: the dunes. I mean: if there is one place where connections are often bad, it is the dunes, but i found a bunker where nobody was, it looked old and dirty and inhospitable, bare too, there was simply nothing or nobody, except for many spiders. Still, i found the connection i was looking for right there.

Why did i go to the dunes?
Long story short, most neighbors were in flight mode and didn't think about taking this strange newcomer with them, even though that same stranger had just helped them with her first aid kit, which was now almost empty. I was none the wiser either: no one knew what was going on. Many radios were out of order, mine still worked, but probably all radio stations had gone dead, because there was nothing but white noise.
I decided to return home, and have some good thinking about what would be the best place for me to go to.

On the main road in front of my house there was a huge traffic jam towards the city, apparently no one would even think of going towards the beach or dunes. And so i thought that maybe i would be better off going in that other direction. There was no information to be found anywhere, and the idea of everyone going in one direction like docile sheep just didn't seem wise to me. Fortunately my non-motorized trike had just been repaired, and i had made an ingenious loading platform for the back myself, so i could take some provisions and water with me, plus extra clothing, my water filter system, cooking equipment and other survival stuff.
The old neighbour next to me had been taken by her daughter, they didn't look up or around at me. The neighbour on the other side, the one with the slamming doors at night, i also saw hastily get into the car with a suitcase and some stuff and join the traffic jam. That turned out to be difficult: people didn't like to let him in and he pushed with threatening engine noise to a place in the long line of tin.
I waited until traffic had disappeared, which took about an hour, and then it was strangely quiet. Or actually, for the first time in a long time i suddenly heard the birds whistling undisturbed.
Weird.

I filled my first aid kit with what i had lying around, remembered to bring a map, and a pen and paper and and and and... i was really bummed that i couldn't stay in the house; nothing was broken, but i was afraid that scary people would go around the houses, and how would i defend myself? I'd better hide somewhere.
I just managed to fit my old tent and accessories onto the bike, had a nice meal and drank the last few beers i had.
Where were the reinforcements? Nothing had been announced, everyone was following each other in the same direction like sheep. Was that logical? Smart? No idea. And: what exactly had happened? It was all so incomprehensible, and I'm never very good at that; at the same time, my life had always consisted of confusion and chaos, and i had learned to live ad hoc, and with a range of mini-solutions and duct tape in my backpack, i always got quite far.

As it began to get dark, i decided to leave. As i locked the back door, i felt like i was standing there for the last time, but i shook off the paralyzing idea and manoeuvred the heavily loaded bike through the alley. Somewhere i heard a cat meowing, but i couldn’t see where it was. I had to go! The street was still completely deserted, the streetlights were out, here and there was a small garden light that still worked - probably solar powered - and it felt so unreal to be cycling here now, and to be leaving and not having a clue what was there and why and what to do...

I cycled into the dune area, as far northwest as possible seemed the smartest to me. It was deathly quiet there, except for a single bird that was startled to death by my presence - the reason why it is better not to be there at night, i think, but necessity breaks the law, as i had once heard, so i pedaled steadily on.

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6. In the bunker.

Now 3 months later.
The internet connection was soon down. Fortunately, i found all sorts of super useful things in the bunker. For example, a bicycle generator: it was a rather poor-looking exercise bike, which to my surprise was connected to a generator and a large battery, to which the lighting and a simple stove were connected. I also found a solar collector, with its own storage battery, with which my laptop and phone could be charged. Although the latter two were of no use to me for any information provision, because the network was down. Probably, because how could i know something like that? It simply didn't work.

The first two weeks i had stayed here as hidden as possible, hoping that no one else would come this way. Or if they did, that it would be in a friendly way. But no one came. I had managed to barricade the door from the inside, and with a small, well-camouflaged periscope i could look around. I did that often, that first period. And i searched the entire bunker; i mapped out every cupboard and niche on all sides, what was in stock, and to my surprise it was quite a lot. For example, i found a worn-out backpack with instant noodles and tea and a few jars of honey. Weird, right? How did that get there? Of course i searched the bag thoroughly, but there was no clue to be found. Only the expiration dates gave an indication of when someone might have been here. According to the packaging, the tea could be kept until April 2018, the noodles only had a QR code that probably provided information about that, and i had difficulty finding the year 2021 on the jars of honey. From the beginning of my prepping time i knew that the expiration date on many products is usually set at one year. And many people keep tea for much longer. Maybe it was someone who had fled here because of the corona pandemic, in the spring of 2020.

Once i had more confidence that no one was looking around, i went outside occasionally. In the bunker, which had several rooms, two of which i had not yet been able to open, i had not found any human remains. The door had been locked from the outside with a rickety lock, which i had been able to open with my crowbar, and that made me think that if someone had died here, it had probably happened outside the bunker. Or the person in question had returned home, leaving their things here in case they were needed again.

It took weeks before i had been able to thoroughly clean the rooms where i was staying. There were a few folded camp beds, there were even blankets and pillows, although very musty, otherwise in good condition. I decided to walk a quarter of an hour further on, in a deep dune valley, where there was a fence because of the wild cattle on the other side, and to use this fence as a drying and airing place for clothes and blankets etcetera, so that any other people present would not find me so quickly.

I find it annoying that i have to be so suspicious. But unfortunately, experience has taught me that most people don't think much of me, and so i move carefully here. In the cupboards that i also had to break open, i found even more provisions; it was all special prep food, so it still has a long shelf life. And so i now live here like a hermit in the dunes. There are people who say that everything you experience is aimed at making you stronger, so that you can handle even more difficult things. Now i was already half a hermit (>kluizeMaar! (a Dutch piece about that)), and now i wonder if that period was meant to prepare me for what is happening now.
That would mean that everything that happens on Earth happens with premeditation. That there is something or someone who controls, thinks up, foresees all of this. Then he must be an incredible asshole. But it would also be extremely bizarre that everything, really EVERYTHING, is directed by some kind of super puppeteer. The attempts at AI that humanity makes are nothing compared to that.
I try to pass the time with these kinds of reflections, i write everything down, including what i have done and discovered every day. The sea is not far from here, it is generally calm. A month ago there was a terrible storm, i was afraid of a tsunami and that the bunker would flood, so i spent that night above ground. It was a strange night. The wind howled, the beach grass whistled a horror song and the sea roared against the edge of the dunes. It wasn't until about seven in the morning that the storm subsided, the tide was going out again and i walked a bit towards one of the beach restaurants - always keeping my distance, because who could possibly be there? Just before The Bang (what else should i call it - it is a significant moment in time that needs a name) the owner had raised the alarm because the building was threatened by the sea, and indeed, from my safe distance i could clearly see how the building had completely collapsed, only a flagpole with a torn piece of cloth that was supposed to represent a flag was still standing. As far as i could see with the binoculars, there was no human activity around the building. Maybe i should make an expedition of it; first spy on the place from a distance for a week or two, and then approach cautiously.

I haven't carried out that plan yet. There is still enough food in the bunker for a century, and it is a risk. Still, i often think about it; there are probably still bottles of booze lying around, and i'd really like a glass of wine...

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7. Raid.

Prepping really took off when Rutte, who had just joined NATO, had spoken out about the need to prepare ourselves more for external threats, whether it was climate catastrophes or hostile states. There was an immediate run on certain products: water filters were sold out for a long time, and emergency radios were no longer available anywhere. Yet many braggarts still laughed about it. And i remember an article from the same time, in which a left-wing prepper explained to us that prepping is mainly done by white old men for themselves and their families, and is not a social or solidarity-based way of being, and that as a left-winger you especially want to take care of your neighbors. And that you couldn't just sit in a bunker by yourself after a disaster... i remember thinking: what are you going to do if no one is going to show solidarity?
But here i am: alone in a bunker.

It is now the middle of winter, it snowed last night, and of course i did not see that coming - i am not a weatherman. I thought it was a bit grey, at the end of the afternoon, but that often happens. I had just decided to go looking for that wine, which i had been craving so much. Dry January my ass, i thought. I have been dry for months! and so i wrapped up warm, took a flashlight and crowbar, backpack and off i went. I decided to go to the furthest one, the more diversionary manoeuvres i could think of if someone turned out to be there, and i could hide in the dunes.

I had observed for a few hours a few times, on different days and at different times, and there was never any life to be seen. They couldn't have seen me coming, because i had gone via the dunes - it's a lot harder to walk, but that way i could stay out of sight. And i couldn't imagine that they would have installed a periscope in such a restaurant, so i dared to cautiously go inside, after i had waited for half an hour between the by now snow-covered beach grass. It was pretty cold, but i had to make an effort.

The entrance had been completely washed away by the sea, but via the dunes behind it i managed to get to the walkway at the back with a plank i had found. After every sound i made i stood still for a moment. I had seen no light, heard no sounds other than the sea. The door to the kitchen had sagged crookedly in the frame, and it took a while before i could lift the thing and open it. It crunched from the sand that had blown everywhere. Again i stood still for a moment, listening. Nothing.
I turned on the small flashlight, which i had taped a piece of an old t-shirt over it, so that it gave off light, but very dimly, so that it wouldn't be visible outside.
The floors were still passable, at least in the kitchen. One window had fallen out of its frame, there was a whole pile of sand inside, over the counter and on the floor next to it. There were no footprints to be seen in the sand. In a corner, next to a few refrigerators where it smelled quite a bit, there was a big pile of boxes. Et voilá: wine! Apparently they had just bought for the last weekends of the season. Red wine, white, rosé. I should have brought a corkscrew, because now i had to look for one. First i tasted the red wine. Fine! Actually i'm not really into white anymore, so i thought it was fine, and put 4 bottles in my backpack, in which i had put old t-shirts to put between, so that it wouldn't rattle on the back of my back.
There was a kind of cellar door, which wasn't even locked, and underneath there was a staircase to the beach, which i could get off easier than that hassle with that plank again. Luckily it wasn't very high, the sand had piled up quite a bit and the steps were firmly settled. I had scored a large branch from a pine tree in the dunes, with which i covered my tracks as best i could. I walked backwards towards the bunker house. There was hardly any wind, and the beach was bizarrely white and vast. Only after a while did i think that covering up was enough, and i started running. The bag was sloshing quite a bit, but i pulled it close to me and that was doable. My stamina had improved a lot in the last few months, and so i managed to jog for about twenty minutes, and at a dune inlet i went into the dunes, and hid for a while again among the beach grass. I had changed into a little snowman myself in the meantime, so i wasn't that conspicuous anymore. I lay there for a while, carefully peeking around. Nobody.

It remained a strange sensation, that there was absolutely no one else here. I didn't understand much of it. Was i dead? Was i living in another reality? What was going on? My thoughts kept going in the same circle, probably i would only know if i met another person. But even that was uncertain: suppose he had been in another bunker, he might not know anything at all.

I crept quietly back to my bunker house. The security i had set up was still intact. Inside i unpacked my bag, put a bottle of wine ready by my favorite mug, changed clothes and went to warm up on the exercise bike, and at the same time generate some electricity, win-win. Although i did feel like shit-alone, lose-lose. After i had pedaled myself silly and warm, i imagined adding it, so that i would end up with 'neutral', and poured myself some wine.

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8. Eternal doubt.

Many people believe in a god, and that belief is a certainty. And then there are people who think that there might be something more between heaven and earth, possibly, we don't know, and that belief could better be called eternal doubt.
I would put myself in the latter category; i have no fucking clue, and sometimes i think that gods don't exist, it's too bizarre and just a fairy tale. And sometimes when something goes very sporadically well, i would like to thank someone, but who? Fate, the three women spinners? The weather gods, God, Jesus, who?

I wanted to say thank you for the fantastic wine.
It was like Goldilocks who had immediately found the best bed: the taste was not too sour, not too sweet, wonderfully fruity with dark red juicy cherries, warm vanilla and a hint of nuts.
Finally i was warmed up a bit, and i grabbed some toast and cheese. Cheese? Yes, there were 10 cans of cheese - and it was still good to eat. Slightly mature, with a smoky taste, it went well with the wine.
I thought about the year before The Bang. That i had just moved into the new house, went for many walks through the dunes, until an annoying foot injury made that a lot more difficult. How it took me months to find some kind of balance between sufficient rest and sufficient exercise - which was actually just minimal exercise, and that was not pleasant. It still hurt, but i didn't have much time to dwell on that.

How would Fabiënne be? I would have liked to call, but still nothing worked. Years ago she lived on a small boat, without running water or anything. The toilet was a bucket next to the wood stove, and she often told me how complicated it actually was, living off-grid. Because for all daily needs you had to make a lot of extra effort. Fetching water in jerry cans, which had to be boiled before using it for food or drink. Fetching wood then... luckily she had a car. But it was just a lot of hassle.

And that's the case here too, but at the same time there's not much else to do here. So it's not bad. And... there is running water here! At first i didn't trust it, the tap at the cute old-fashioned sink. There used to be a sign with the text 'drinking water' mounted on the pipe; the text was now just barely legible. I filtered it the first few days. Until i thought: maybe i should give it a try, carefully. It looked fine in itself, it didn't smell strange. So i took a few sips, and waited 2 days before i did anything more with it. I didn't get sick, so i decided to just use it.
And that saves a lot of hassle, because even though i have seawater filters, it's a lot of work and you only have small amounts at a time.

Heating was a problem here.
I had found a small fan heater, and luckily it could be connected to the generator, but it used so much power that i had to cycle along with it from time to time. It was a way to warm up a room, and better than nothing. There was one smaller room, which i could warm up in a irelatively short time. If i was very cold, I would turn on the heater there, cycle for a while (that also warms you up) and then i could rest by the heater; i had made it somewhat cozy there - in the entire bunker anyway, to what extent a BUNKER can be made cozy.
And i was always wrapped in several blankets, and when it was dramatically cold, i would go back on the exercise bike. It was all not ideal, but that seemed logical to me in extreme times. It was almost April by now, it was light for longer and that gave me some new strength. I could be outside longer, and i felt myself getting stronger.

The wine tasted fine, and i sat there pondering things i could do in the coming period. I could make an index of the food supply and other necessities. Probably incredibly useless, but a pleasant activity. My gaze wandered around the room. I had shielded the dark hallway on the left with a blanket, because it was a scary black hole. And in that black hole were the two doors that i had not yet broken open. Maybe i should start working on that in the coming days.
After a few cups i became melancholic. Later i became sad. I felt so alone. Fortunately, in the previous corona years i'd had the bitter privilege of being forgotten by society as a whole, and i remembered all too well how much i would have liked to join in at all the parties and celebrations, the dinners, the after-work drinks that i could observe from outside as i trudged through the dark streets.

Shortly before The Bang, it was a cold misty evening and in the warmly lit cafe in the only shopping street of the village groups of people were having fun and drinking, it was the end of a Friday afternoon so this had to be a Friday afternoon drink: everyone was wearing the neater office attire. Slightly longing for times gone by i looked inside, some people who were standing close to one of the windows suddenly all looked back - i felt ashamed, felt like the eternal wanderer; someone had clearly made a comment about me, because they all looked at me at the same time. But it was a good thing i hadn't heard any remarks, and i did my best not to see their faces - the smiles, the eyes, i didn't want to know who they were, i didn't want to remember them to see them again and again when i felt bad.

Now here in the bunker i did not see mankind, but i suspected they were still out there somewhere, and i felt stupid that i was here alone. At the same time, the feeling came over me again that i had been prepared for this, that i had to do this, but for what, for whom, and more importantly: what was i supposed to do here?

We all know the stories about men who were found almost completely feral somewhere deep in some jungle, who had been under the impression for years that there was still a war going on. Was i such a person? Would i become one? Was there a war? What in God's name was i supposed to do?!

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9. An underground surprise.

Long live the crowbar! Such a thing easily weighs 2 kilos, but it comes in handy in all kinds of situations.
The day after the wine experience i felt somewhat weak but it was organic wine so there was no headache. I didn't feel like doing anything, and to counteract that landslide feeling i decided to make an attempt to open the two doors behind the curtain. They were somewhat strange doors: they were made of steel, which was not so strange, but the doorposts looked strange. They looked like those steel lockers in locker rooms, or schools, but mounted IN the wall. Maybe that just made sense in a bunker? There were no padlocks on them, but an internal lock, and with my crowbar i tried to pry and poke, and the whole thing bent at most 2 millimeters, so that didn't get me anywhere. Until i got the idea to pry between the wall and the doorframe. And that went a whole lot better, especially since the wall crumbled and pretty soon there was a hole behind the doorframe.
Then suddenly it turned out to be a piece of cake, although it still took me quite a bit of strength and wriggling - i'm just not that big or strong.

When I managed to get the door frame loose, i could, with some pushing back and forth, as it were fold the door open. It made an eerie sound, and a few times i thought there was something outside, and i hung on the periscope. Nothing to see fortunately.
There was a somewhat musty smell coming from the space behind the door, it was very much like an army dump store smell, a dusty, somewhat moldy smell. For a moment i remembered the pants i made from old army pants... years of wearing those things. It made me homesick. But i had to move on now, and i shone my flashlight into the dark space. It was a hallway. I took the map i had made, and immediately sketched the first part in. Where would it lead to?

I grabbed a backpack with some all-important necessities, barricaded the bunker inside and tightly clamped the unlocked door so it couldn't fall shut, and went to investigate. I also had two emergency lights with me, so i could create some more light in the fearful darkness. And i had brought a broom, and so swept in front of me, knocking cobwebs out of the air with it before they stuck in my face. It was a fairly long hallway, halfway down there was a wooden door on the left, with a padlock. I left that for a moment, but put a lamp there, and continued down the long corridor. At the end was a kind of room, of course there were no windows, there were some actual lockers, one of which was closed with a padlock, the other 5 were open. There were some overalls hanging there, at the top were two gas masks and there was a magazine, which on closer inspection was a gay sex magazine from the 70s, most of the men had either a mullet or a moustache. I didn't have time to judge the rest for their cultural time indications, although there was probably more pubic hair on display than there is today?

Here too was a wooden door with a padlock, which i easily managed to knock off with the crowbar. Behind the door was a tunnel, the kind you might see in movies. First there was a small staircase of six steps down, and from there the tunnel was propped up with beam structures. It was quite low, i could just about stand in it, but at cross beams i would have to duck.
By the steps hung a fire extinguisher, and a wooden cabinet in which i found a map. I decided to take the map with me, and not just go into that tunnel. A few of the lockers i dragged in front of the wooden door, to barricade it i laid them on their side against it, because you never know if something or someone might come from another side.
Back to the door where i had put the emergency light. I quickly got that one open as well, and here too there was a step down, and a fire extinguisher and a locker. But next to the locker were a couple of light switches, and it seemed nonsensical but still i flicked one on, and to my great surprise a couple of tube lights flashed on, and there appeared a large room with all kinds of equipment.
What. The. Fuck.
The other switch also turned on a number of lights, and so suddenly i was standing in a sea of light, in what appeared to be some kind of command center. At first glance, everything seemed out of order, or at least not on. Until in the far corner, on the left, where there was another wooden door with a padlock on it (...) i saw a red light flicker. Very briefly, like a smoke detector. That you're not quite sure if you saw it right now. And then you don't want to close your eyes, because otherwise you miss the confirming next blink. So for a moment i stood there staring like a rabbit at that door and its surroundings, and yes, another light, and i found that quite strange for a place where apparently no one had been for years.

To my great relief, it was indeed just a smoke detector. For a moment i had thought about a camera. But that would have been super silly; if there was a camera, it would probably be very concealed - i hadn't come across one yet. But in this room i could expect anything, it seemed.
Next to the door was an old-fashioned steel desk, the drawers not even locked, and i suspected that was only because the keys had disappeared, as they always do. First you put them on your desk, then you store them in one of the drawers, and that's the beginning of the end: all it takes is one move, one decision to store the keys 'just for a moment' somewhere else, et voilá: gone forever.

I hardly dared to make a sound, everything sounded hollow and amplified. In the top drawer were cigarettes, a pipe, matches, tea lights, pens and pencils, some erasers, paper clips and two boxes of bullets.... No weapon? The middle drawer was full of documents, on top was a well-preserved map that looked a lot better than the one i had put in my bag earlier. No idea if they were the same, but i would find out later. So this one too went into the bag. The paperwork looked like various service orders, contracts perhaps, it was all in very military-official language. And very dated, 1956 was the first year i came across.
In the bottom drawer was only a thick, army green sweater, but when i took it out a gun clattered out. It scared the hell out of me! Godalmightyjeeeesus.... i had never held a gun before, except for a black dismantled alarm pistol, which i played with as a child. So with my foot i carefully slid the thing under the desk, barrel facing the wall, in case the safety catch wasn't locked and it was loaded. Again, i would look at that later.
What on earth were all those devices standing there? One looked to me like an old-fashioned radar system, but how that could work without overhead radar detection things, i suspected they had all been removed. There was something that appeared to be a very old computer: a huge cabinet with all kinds of wires, on some kind of cabinet next to it was a terminal from the year Zero. Also some other communications equipment, a telegraph-like thing perhaps, a telex? It looked like a museum hall. Everything was arranged along the walls, with here and there a desk that no one had been working on for years, judging by the layer of dust. Although...

In a niche that you would easily overlook, to the right of the small staircase, there was a table with a chair, there was a bag on the table, one of those somewhat frumpy brown leather briefcases. Even from a few feet away I could see it: there was no dust on this. No dust, or only a little bit. HOW could that be? Then someone had been there fairly recently! It was somewhat dark in the alcove, and i swiped my finger across the bag to look a few steps back into the light. Fortunately, it was dusty after all, just not nearly as bad as the other furniture and appliances. This was at most from a few months, a year maybe? I looked in the bag, maybe.... and yes, it contained a diary, from 2022. It had some brief notes and appointments written in it, up to March 25. After that, it was completely empty.
Could i conclude that no one had been here after that time? Where would that person be? And who was it? The bag also contained a lunchbox with some bread crumbs, a pair of sunglasses in a deluxe eyeglass case, a packet of masks, and a box of corona self tests. The first thing that occurred to me: could this person have contracted corona then, and became very ill as a result, perhaps even died? March 2022 was one of the biggest corona peaks, if i remembered correctly, and at the same time The Measures were lifted. Next to the table was a trash can, and surprise surprise: there was a silver package, some tissues, and a corona test.
I'm sure it was no longer contagious, but i was still glad i had gloves on.


[to be continued]

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DatumTijd: 2024 jul 21, 18:05 CET
LatestEdit: 2025 jan 30, 10:05 CET
Auteur: Mulder

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