Dispatches #7: And Everyone — Where?
Something wrong, even it is more wrong than usually. Today I have gone to the market to sell some things, which I have hidden to receive more stocks, medicine, which my beloved Fanta and me we require. As so on as I have left the house, I could tell that something was mistaken. It was silent. Too silent. Any lorries in distance? Any planes or helicopters? No. But, also, any birds and any dogs or bugs? No. Only the sick breeze which has pushed its way through barren trees was. I know that it is not a lot of people in our city already . . . but it was something new. Different. Not good.
I have taken roundabout to the market. It is never full, but is usually some sellers and people and some kinds of business. But, today, as you can see from a picture, there was nobody. No soul. Not even a single soul but me. It was the deserted city. I have passed by Kopeth’s and the door was closed, and I knocked and knocked on a door, and nobody has answered.
It very much disturbing for me. My beloved Fanta—it is not good. She has received cough while we were underground. I thought as soon as we arrived to a surface, back in grey light of our world, that it will leave. It has not. Her person is grey similarly to the sky, but with red spots and she sweats, also coughs, and—it is not good. I should receive medicine for her. I shall make that what is required to rescue her. There are no limits. Not now. Not with her life under threat. I shall make that is required without thought of good or evil. To save my beloved Fanta is only the good no matter what the action I make.
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