text: I awoke with a sudden fit of coughing, my throat felt dry and I grabbed for the plastic bottle of water I had left on the side before going to sleep, there wasn’t much left so I took a small mouthful, just enough to rinse my throat, and swallowed. I tasted ash. Panicking, I swung round to where I had put the children to sleep, both were still on the single bed in the corner, the worn-out tartan blanket had been kicked off and had slid onto the floor but they both still had all 3 of our jackets over them for warmth, top to tail with the little ones legs thrown over her elder brother. Both had a slight rosiness to their cheeks so I quickly checked that both were indeed actually breathing before I loosened my shoulders and unclenched my jaw in relief. This had become a morning ritual, the panic and checking for signs of life in my children, not a routine I ever pictured myself undertaking back in the school run days of snack and jacket checks while hurrying everyone out of the door for another mundane, yet peaceful day at our local village school, chatting to other parents about a child-free alcohol-fuelled night out or gushing over 4 pieces of artwork brought home every day from nursery. This felt like a lifetime ago, although it had only been a few months, a mundane and peaceful life was now a happy memory and one we were all grasping to the hope of having again soon. They should be home by now. My next thought. There’s ash and they’re not home. My shoulders and jaw are clenched again, and my stomach lurches. I lean over and pick up the discarded blanket off of the floor. It smells of dog. I wrap it around my shoulders. I squint my eyes out of the small gap in the makeshift shutters. It’s snowed overnight, I can see a layer of perfect crisp white peeking out from where the ash hasn’t covered it. A perfect example of this life and the last, laying together like some kind of horror story I never imagined myself part of. I look for footprints or even dog prints, but there is nothing, which at the same time brings worry as that means Eric and Glen haven’t made it back yet but is also a blessing as it means no one else has been here either. This new world has me constantly stuck between ironic emotions. I force myself back to being hopeful, for this to be a temporary world. As soon as one of the new wave groups breaks through the governments’ stronghold, surely we will get back to some kind of new normality? A better normality? I hear one of the children stir and I pull myself back to the present and remind myself to keep it together for their sake. They have already been through a global pandemic, watched a far off war taking place and as far as they understand, it always goes back to normal. This is just one of these things, happening where we live this time. Fine. It’s fine, It’s going to be fine. I pick up the cleanest useable pot and head over to the log burner. The electricity has been off for the past month and we have all of the belongings we need to get through the days just now, moved into the living room, both for warmth and for safety if a quick getaway is needed. By some miracle, we rented a house with a working log burner before all of this, once for luxury, now used for eating, washing, heating, time is looping back on itself. I had prepped a new fire last night for this morning and I lit our final remaining match, said a prayer to the universe for it to work, and set some paper alight, it burst into an orange and blue flame, taking a minute or so for the kindling to catch and I turned away to prepare breakfast while the fire became usable. I tore open a packet of porridge oats and poured them into the pot, along with the last of the carton of almond milk. Hopefully, Eric would manage to get some kind of UHT milk on this trip out, and matches, Eric, please find matches I thought. As I stirred the dull mixture together one of the children sat up. “Mummy, where’s Eric?”. He coughed. “Just out getting some shopping, he’ll be back soon, have a drink of water please”. I handed my 6-year-old the bottle of water. “Leave some for your sister just now please, Eric will be home with more soon.” “Why is there ash everywhere again?” “I think the wind has blown it over from the town with the snow,” I said, trying to avoid telling them why there was ash in the first place. I looked at the hole in the ceiling, caused by a weak spot from the gutter draining inwards, back when this was a trivial problem, now the gutter was completely broken and the rain and wind had created the hole in the roof cladding which allowed us a front seat to the elements...and anything else in the air when it managed to blow through our makeshift towel covering. I wished I’d had this fixed before, but it was always a tomorrow problem, and none of us saw this coming. “Mummy, I’m hungry”. More coughing from my 3-year-old daughter this time and her brother handed her the last of the bottle of water. He had taken it on himself to look after her as much as I did, to make sure she was always safe and warm, something a 6-year-old shouldn’t even have to consider. I used to hate their constant fighting, but now, I would love to see them fighting because one of them wants to watch Cocomelon and the other wants to play Xbox. We eat the porridge in silence, all of us knowing better than to complain about its dull taste and consistency by now. “Mummy, what are we doing today?” “Well we need to keep this fire going until Eric gets back so we can’t go far”, I reply, not mentioning the ash and potentially toxicity outside that I’m trying to protect them from. “How about we read some books to practice your reading?” “But we’ve read all these books a hundred times...” my son moans. “Well, you will know the words and spellings off by heart the...” I was interrupted by a bark and clawing coming from the front door. We all jumped. “Eric?” Please be Glen and Eric. “Stay there please. You know the plan?”. I say, trying to keep the fear from my voice. I slip out into the hallway and quickly close the door behind me, leaving the room in the semi-darkness we were now accustomed to. The whining comes again and I can see a black and white silhouette through the frosted glass. Glen. I start to quickly unlock the deadbolt and yale locks then the newer additional sliding locks and I open the door just enough to let the ash-covered dog in. I stall for a second before I stick my head around the door. “Eric?” No response so I pull my head back and close the door, making sure to redo all of the locks before I even check Glen over. “Slightly ash-covered but no visible bleeding or limping, I run my hands over his back and round his stomach. I take his muzzle in my hands and use my thumbs to check his teeth..all there and none broken. I let go, he whines again and nudges my hand. We slip back through to the living room where the children wait in silence. “Glen!” they shout in unison as they rush over to see him. “Where’s Eric? Is he okay?” “He’s fine, he’ll just be somewhere that dogs are not allowed so he will have sent him back.” “But how did Glen know how to get home?” “Because dogs are very clever and have a great sense of smell to find their way home” “But what if...” “Shhh.” I cut him off, “Eric is fine, Glen is fine. Let’s get ourselves ready for the day”. We tidied up the jackets, folded away the blankets and I rubbed down the dishes as best I could with a tea towel until we got water. I brushed everyones hair and we all brushed our teeth with our dry brushes in the name of some kind of normality. I tried to sweep up as much of the ash that had come in the damaged ceiling space and had lain across the living room as I could, and I slipped out the doors and reenacted my unlocking and locking act while I popped it out into the snow and ash layer that was covering the driveway. I popped some more of our dried sticks into the log burner and we settled down for our story. My son started “Niko wanted a pet. Niko wanted a pet mon..” We all jumped again as a gust of wind swept down the chimney and almost blew out the fire. I rushed over and grabbed a bit of paper from old junk mail and shoved it in the embers, it relit. I restarted the fire using paper and some more dried kindling. We settled down again. “Niko wanted a pet monkey. That way he wouldn’t have to keep asking his parents to take him to the zoo”. As he read, his soothing childlike voice and the warmth of the fire soothed me into an almost meditative state. It must have only been a few minutes when another gust of wind in the chimney and a soft bang and a sizzle brought me back to reality. The wind had brought down some snow onto the fire and it was dying quickly. I jumped up and grabbed some more paper, pushing it in to try and ignite it the same way I had just before, but there was nothing left to ignite it, the snow and resulting water had extinguished the fire. Now there’s an idea I thought to myself and put away for later. I tried to blink away the tears starting to form in my eyes. With no more drinkable water and our last match used, I was going to have to go out into one of the towns or we wouldn’t be around much longer to even need them. Normally Eric would do this, but I was going to have to go in search of him too, he had never been away this long, and I was trying not to let the ash coming from the town and the return of the dog, extinguish my hopes that he would be back. It had been a long time since I had been out for supplies, and I had never had to go alone, we had all gone back in the beginning when it was still deemed safe and we still had family in town. We would need to go in the opposite direction of the ash, I couldn’t risk that. Do I take the children like we used to, do I leave them here with the dog? What was safer? I looked around for some items to trade while I mused this over, I wasn’t sure how things were in the towns now. I slid some dried firewood into a pillowcase, nothing else had much value at the moment. I gathered our empty bottles to refill. I didn’t want to wait much longer in case the snow worsened, or it darkened, also we needed water, fast, and what if Eric didn’t come back? I had made my decision. “Jackets and shoes on, we’re going on an adventure”. The children looked at me. “Are you sure Mummy?” “Yep, I need my best two helpers with this one today” “Okay, Mummy”...they went over and got their jackets and shoes on. “Don’t forget your masks” I added, they patted their pockets to show me they had them. “Come on Glen!” We made our way to the door and I picked up the pillowcase, it was heaver and squarer than before, my son smiled at me. Maybe we can swap some books Mum, you know I love reading to you. I unlocked the deadbolt. I unlocked the yale. I unlocked the first slide lock, the second, and the final and third lock and I stepped out into the air filled with ash and snow. “Hold hands guys. Don’t let go of each other.” Fine. It’s all fine. It’s all going to be fine.