Chapter 2: Chapter 2.1
Helen knows she needs to tell the others that they're running out of drinking water. She carries the bottles, that are still wrapped in plastic, to the living room and puts them onto the ground next to the huge sofa.
"There's not much left," Helen says, looking at Zezra who is lying on the couch like she's a dead diva. She then points at the bottles.
Zezra's eyes are closed and one of her arms are placed on her forehead. One of her legs is bent and her black curls cover up the cushion underneath her head. Considering the massive volume of her hair, Damian's her hair is so big, it's full of secrets takes on a new meaning.
Zezra is tougher than most of the people Helen is stuck with. She's a tomboy dressed like a fashion model. When she joined them she jumped over the ten-foot fence like it's one of her daily tasks on an average day.
Toast a sandwich, brush your teeth, then climb up a ten-foot fence. She's bossy and the most athletic one, so the probability of her survival is higher than that of her fellow roommates.
And Zezra's more likely to bear the bad news.
"How much is not much?," Zezra asks, opens her eyes and sits up.
"Our supplies last for another day," Helen says, trying to sound as confident and casual as she can. But she's everything but confident and casual.
Her anxiety grows every day.
She doesn't think anyone will come for them. None of them know what is happening in the city, the country, maybe the world. She doesn't know the people she's living with and she can't contact her sister or parents.
During the first days they've heard lots of sirens. Now it's feels like in A Quiet Place. No one makes a sound, no one's on the streets.
Not that they could see the streets. The mansion, though located in Los Angeles' most exclusive neighborhood, is quite secluded. They can see other mansions but not many other people.
Last week they saw two people on a terrace a few houses away, but the couple hurried inside as soon as they saw them waving and screaming. The couple hasn't left their house since. Helen doesn't blame them.
They're afraid, too. And maybe dead by now.
"Like tomorrow?," Zezra asks and looks towards Elijah and River who sit at the edge of the pool and talk.
"Yes."
She'll figure something out, Helen thinks. She needs Zezra to come up with a plan, maybe go outside and get more food and water, ideally some help. There must be someone out there, taking care of this. That's the military's job isn't it? Lacy is just a kid and her father won't be there for us, but only for his daughter. They're here by accident and they're stuck here, just like everyone else in this house.
River, whose real name is Vanessa Monroe, is what Helen would call a hippie, a hipster, a non-conformist and probably vegan dreamer, who wouldn't even eat animal products in order to survive.
She fits the image of an acting student who came to Hollywood to take part in indie movies and model for sustainable brands. She's not helpful either. She found a guitar in the basement and sings almost every night, songs by Foster the People, Cage the Elephant, Santigold and Mitski.
Elijah is an egoist and Paloma is whiny and even more fearful and stressed out by all of this than Helen. If she had to pick people to spend the apocalypse with, she would choose none of these people.
"Okay, let's not spread panic," Zezra says, keeping her eyes on Elijah and River. "We have two choices. One: Send some of us outside to see what's happening there. Two: Go separate ways and leave this house since it lacks resources. An extra choice could be: Stay here and die."
The way Zezra handles the situation makes Helen wonder if she doesn't miss anyone. If there's no one waiting for her. How could anyone be so indifferent?
"I guess some of us need to go outside," Helen says since it's the only option that seems plausible.
Yes, even after three weeks those people remain strangers, but no, she doesn't want to be on her own, not after she lost her roommate on day one. She can't trust them, but she also doesn't want to be alone now.
"Are you volunteering?," Zezra asks and laughs.
No exactly, Helen thinks. Why didn't anyone else figure out there's not enough water left?
She's sure that someone must've stolen some bottles. The water doesn't reduce itself to fifteen instead of thirty bottles.
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