I wrapped Mummy, Daddy, and my sister Jenny up in blankets so that they’d keep warm and left them in my parents’ bedroom. I was the only one who hadn’t been sick. They’d been really bad, but at least they were sleeping it off now. There was a really nasty smell coming from the bedroom, it’d been getting worse with each day, but I didn’t go in there because I didn’t want to wake them.

A lot of people round the estate were sick. I hadn’t seen anybody else since it all started. It had never been so quiet. There were no cars driving down the roads, they were all sat on the driveways and at the sides of the pavements as though they were just resting too. A couple of times I’d heard dogs barking frantically and that really scared me, because they sounded scared. I hadn’t dared go and find them. I’d really wanted to pet them and tell them that everything was going to be ok, but I couldn’t just go snooping round peoples’ houses, even if they were sleeping. That was the kind of thing I knew that Mummy would say was bad.

Mummy had told me lots of things, like how I should never get into cars with strangers, even if they did seem nice. She’d also told me not to steal, but that had been really tough because I needed food. The loaf of bread had gone all green and furry and I’d had to keep the fridge closed because of the rotten smell coming from inside it. Even the freezer had leaked all over the floor. I’d tried mopping it up with toilet paper, but I’d only seemed to make it worse. So I left it all there, sodden and wet. I promised myself that I’d clean it up as soon as everybody was better.

So, with no food, I had to steal. I didn’t have enough pocket money to get what I needed, so I took some money from Mummy’s purse. Well, borrowed some money. I promised her through the bedroom door that I’d pay her back. Still, it felt like stealing, and I felt bad.

I stuffed the money into my pocket and walked down to the shop. It’d frightened me at first, but I’d quickly grown to like the quiet. It felt as though I’d won, somehow. Everybody else was ill and were asleep, but not me. Didn’t that mean I was strong? I hoped so, because it’d show all those horrible kids at school. Alice wouldn’t pinch me in maths, Bigtooth Bill wouldn’t give me Chinese burns and call me Fatty, and I wouldn’t even get picked last in PE anymore. I’d be the kid who hadn’t been ill.

I reached the court some of the kids from the estate played on from time to time. Amazingly, they’d left their football there, right in front of me, just before the goal chalked on the wall. They never invited me out. I kicked the ball, and I missed, but I felt like I’d scored. I felt like I’d scored at something much bigger, and I pretended I’d just scored a goal in front of thousands of people screaming my name. I even lifted my top over my head and sprinted down the road. I tripped over and skinned my knees, and blood trickled down my legs, but I didn’t care. I laughed and laughed so hard that by the time I got to the shop I was crying with it.

I left some crumpled notes on the counter. I had no idea how much I needed, so hopefully it was enough. Everything smelt as bad in here as it did at home, but I knew the stuff in the tins would be fine. It was supposed to last for ages. I didn’t go over to that aisle first though. First, I went past all the sweets.

The pick-and-mix…I’d lost count of the amount of times I’d begged Mummy for some. She always gave up, if I kept on enough. She’d tutt and roll her eyes but then she’d ruffle my hair in that way that made me feel warm and happy and say, “ok then”.

Suddenly I was opening the lids and digging in with my hands: coke bottles, sherbet lemons, chocolate mice, gummy bears. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was. I didn’t like having to pick, but now I didn’t have to, there was nobody here to tell me I could only have one bag, or two. I could have as much as I wanted.

It all tasted so, so good. I sat down and my head rushed and I beamed greedily and thought that I had could die happy right there and then. I kept grabbing sweets by the fistful and ate until I couldn’t possibly eat anymore.

Then my tummy got sore. It felt as though it was churning round and round, over and over. Then my head started aching and I felt dizzy. All of a sudden, I was on my knees and I knew that everything I’d put inside me had to come back out, it couldn’t possibly stay there; it felt like it was burning a hole through my guts.

I vomited all over the floor. I felt like my eyes were going to pop out and everything swam in front of me. The smell of it wafted thickly back into my face and I felt like I was smothered. I threw up again, all over my hands, and gasped for air. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. All I could do was let it happen.

I didn’t know how long I was there for. Finally, I lay down, too weak to move. The smell was awful, and I knew that my face was in a puddle of my own sick, and that it was lumpy, but I just couldn’t move, even breathing was difficult. I felt something burning in my underpants and some distant part of me realised that I was wetting myself. I’d been desperate, but I hadn’t been able to get up.

I woke up later when it was pitch black. The lights hadn’t been working anywhere since people had got sick. I’d been ok with it like this at home, because Mummy and Daddy and Jenny were there, but not here. Anybody could be here, waiting for me, maybe even one of those strangers Mummy had told me about. Maybe Bigtooth Bill was hiding behind the shelves, sniggering at me, and this had all been a big joke. I curled up in terror and jammed my eyes shut.

I fell asleep again, how I don’t know. I woke up shivering, my jeans stuck to my legs and having to peel my face off the floor. My tummy felt like that football out by the courts after I’d kicked it. I sat there and cried for a bit, because it hurt really badly.

It sounded silly after having all those sweets, but what I really needed now was ice cream. Mummy always used to make her own, and it was better than anything you could buy in the shops. It was thick and creamy and had little bits of cookie dough hidden away inside it. Jenny had once said that I looked like a pig going after truffles when I ate it. She’d been really told off for that one, but it was ok, because even though Jenny could be mean sometimes, she’d stood up for me at school before. She was older and the likes of Bigtooth Bill were scared of her. Anyway, I didn’t care what I looked like when I ate Mummy’s ice cream, and I always enjoyed it the most when I was ill, particularly when I had a sore throat or a sore tummy. It always seemed to soothe it better than any medicine ever could. That and, if I was really poorly, Mummy being there to hold me, which always made me feel better. Mummy said that I was growing up and that grown up boys shouldn’t get cuddled by their Mummies, but she always said that she had to make an exception when I was ill or upset. I knew that she wanted to do it all the time anyway, because she always smiled when she did it. She smiled a lot, did Mummy.

Ice cream. That was what I wanted. I didn’t want any from this shop, and I knew it’d have all melted anyway. I could make some myself, but first I needed to find out how to do it. It wouldn’t be as good as Mummy’s, but it’d still be good. She might even be awake to make it for me. That’d be great.

It was only when I got close to home that I realised I hadn’t been sensible and gotten tinned food from the shop. I paused outside my flat door for a minute, several floors up, the sick crusting on my face. I shrugged, both at my empty hands and the state I was in. I could always go back to the shop once I knew what I needed, and the sick…well, I hadn’t washed for ages anyway. The shower had stopped working a couple days ago. Even the taps had too, but thankfully we’d had enough bottled water to keep me going.

I walked back in to the flat and had a snoop round the kitchen, but I knew I wouldn’t find it. Mummy hadn’t written down her recipe, she’d always done it from memory. It was a talent, my Daddy had chortled once. Women retained information better than men, he’d said, as though they were wise words.

Well, if there were no instructions, I’d just have to Google it. That was what everybody did when they were stuck on something. Google always knew. I got the mixing bowl out, which was a little dusty, and the big wooden spoon I’d seen Mummy use. Then I went over to the counter where Daddy had left his phone. I didn’t have my own phone yet, I’d always been jealous of Jenny and hers, because even if I didn’t have anybody to call other than my family at least I could play games on it, but Mummy had said I’d definitely get one for my next birthday.

I picked up Daddy’s phone and pressed the button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again. The blank screen looked at me…well, blankly, as if to say “sorry, can’t help you.” I put the phone down and stared at the mixing bowl.

No ice cream then. As if recognising this, my tummy gave a short stab of pain. It really hurt, and I had to bend over. When I stood up I wiped my face and looked down at my hand. There was sick there, but it was also watery with tears.

So…no ice cream then.

No ice cream.

The smell was getting really, really bad. Not me, but the one coming from my parents’ room. And they couldn’t smell that bad just because they hadn’t been able to wash since they’d fallen asleep, could they?

No ice cream. I walked over to their door, covering my mouth. Suddenly I no longer cared if they were all asleep. I was poorly too now, and I needed them, I needed Mummy most of all.

I opened the door. The smell hit me so hard that it was as though I’d run into a wall. Somehow, I managed to step inside, even though I felt like it was the last thing I wanted to do. I was scared. Really scared. I’d closed my eyes but now I opened them and they streamed, they felt as though they were burning.

I’d kept their faces uncovered so that they could breathe. They were all slightly black and puffy, and veins had popped out on them and wriggled up their faces like fat blue worms. I walked slowly over to Mummy. Her eyes were wide, like a fish’s. They didn’t look as warm as they did on all those times she’d made me ice cream and stroked my hair and told me that everything was going to be ok. Her mouth was slightly open. I touched her cheek and it was as cold as ice. I pulled away quickly and knew that I had to leave, that I couldn’t look at them anymore.

I ran into the kitchen. I didn’t think I’d have anything left after last night, but I did, and I heaved and spluttered into the sink. I tried to turn on the tap to wash everything away, but it just groaned at me.

I sat on the kitchen floor, pulling my knees up against my tummy which Mummy said helps when it’s sore. It didn’t help though, and now that I knew I couldn’t make any ice cream it felt as though it was never going to get better. Then, suddenly, I realised that even if I had found out how to make it, all the ingredients I needed would have gone off anyway.

I was never going to have ice cream again. I said it out loud, and I kept saying it until it had sunk in. Suddenly I wasn’t in the kitchen, but I was back in my bedroom the last time Mummy had come in with a bowl of ice cream. She’d sat next to me as I’d eaten it, and she’d stroked my hair and tutted at my fever, but after that ice cream I’d felt better, and she’d stayed there for some time, just holding me and talking. I thought of her in that room, how she’d looked, her warmth, how cold she was now, and suddenly I knew that she wasn’t going to wake up. She wasn’t going to be able to do any of those things for me again, and Daddy and Jenny weren’t going to be waking up soon either.

Nobody was.

Ten minutes later (that’s what my watch said, the only thing still working) I was stood on the rooftop of our block of flats. The wind whistled up here, as though in warning, but Daddy had always said it was better to be a brave boy. He’d always told me to be brave when Bigtooth Bill had called me names, and I’d tried sometimes, even though I’d felt really frightened, so I was going to try now. A little bit of wind wasn’t going to stop me.

I’d brought along a family photograph from the mantelpiece. I looked down at it, the four of us smiling together. We’d gone to Butlins. It’d been the best holiday ever. Daddy had taken me round the arcades all day and I’d been able to play on whatever I’d wanted. Then we’d gone out for burger and chips, and afterwards we’d had ice cream. It wasn’t as good as Mummy’s, but it had been tasty. I’d finished all of it and I’d remembered feeling really happy, because Jenny was there laughing away, not busy on her phone texting some boy, and Mummy and Daddy had been holding hands.

I held the photograph against my chest and closed my eyes, walking forwards. The wind pushed me back, but I was going to be brave, just like Daddy had told me to be all those times before. I stopped when my toes were hanging off the edge.

I remember, when Grandma had died, asking Mummy where she’d gone. Mummy had dabbed her tears away from her eyes and told me that she’d gone to live with the angels. I also remember watching a film with Mummy and Daddy once, and I remember Mummy being really cross with Daddy after because she’d insisted before it’d started that I was too young for it. There’d been a bit where a man had thrown himself off an office block. I’d found it really distressing, because even though the camera had turned away I’d heard this big splat. I’d asked if he was dead, and Daddy had looked uncomfortable before saying that he was.

“Will he be with the angels now, like Grandma?”

“Yeah,” he’d said to me softly. “I should think so, son.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No,” Daddy had said. “It would have been really quick.”

Mummy had then told me that I should never, ever think about doing anything like that. I always did what Mummy said, but this time I wasn’t going to, and I felt as though she’d understand because now she was with the angels, and Daddy and Jenny were too, and they were all waiting for me.

I didn’t know what it’d be like where the angels lived, but it’d be better than here. The wind whined in my ears and it was the loudest thing I’d heard since the barking dogs and suddenly I knew the pain in my tummy wasn’t just because of eating too many sweets. It’d felt sore ever since I’d realised that I was the only person awake.

I knew that they were all waiting for me. And, you never know, Mummy might have even made me a bowl of ice cream.

I held the picture tight against my chest and stepped over the edge.

– Ben O’Hara