Kathy looked at the dirty, blood-smeared paper rectangle on the desk. Debris and dust coated the desk. The paper had weird squiggly marks on it and it was bumpy to touch. She didn’t know what it was. Kathy placed it inside her pocket in the hazmat suit and walked outside to the street. She furtively peeked around the corner and looked down the pocked marked road. She ran helter-skelter to the open manhole. She jumped down into the sewage tunnel and skidded on the slick concrete. The labyrinth of tunnels led to her home.
She pushed aside the sackcloth that acted as a door for home. Home was where the tunnel ended. The only light was from the six dripping candles perched on the ledges inside the tunnel. There was one piece of furniture inside; a camper bed covered by a thin blanket. Inside was the only person important to Kathy.
In the shadows, Grandma sat on the cot coughing up blood. Her bony shoulders shaking uncontrollably Grandma wiped the blood into a dirty rag. Red spittle decorating her balding grey hair.
“Grandma” Kathy exclaimed. “You told me about squiggly stuff on paper. I found some!” She ran over and perched next to Grandma and shoved the paper into her hand. Grandma read it aloud to her only grand-daughter. It was also written in braille.
“My name is Marissa and I am 15. I have been hiding out with my parents at the water tunnel near the rubbish dump. The sickness has taken them. Please find me.”