How do you find a needle in a haystack?
The rush of the mob is dizzying. People are barreling back and forth. They are panic-buying, snatching items from the supermarket shelves like there’s no tomorrow. Some are fighting over a roll of tissue paper, others over a carton of milk. Almost everyone is snarling at one another, all traces of decency and courtesy forgotten.
The faces pass me by in a blur, the sound of heavy, hurried feet intermingling with muffled curses and whispered expletives. The scent of fear pervades the air, gripping each and everyone in a vise-like hold, like tentacles of a humongous octopus.
It is, undeniably, pure and utter chaos.
Dad, what were you thinking, sending me here?
Perspiration trickles down my brow and I wipe it off with my fingers, staring at it with awe. I haven’t broken a sweat since…since ever. I’d only read about it in books. Another drop falls, this time to the floor.
That’s when I realize why I am sweating. I am not dressed like the people around me.
Suddenly, someone bumps into me. Hard. I don’t even flinch, though. My four-layered clothing effectively protects me and I stay rooted to the floor. It’s the person responsible who is adversely affected. She looks shaken, as if she’d crashed into hard glass. I take pity on her elfin frame and, on reflex, clasp her arms to prevent her from losing her balance.
Her lips tighten at my unwelcome touch, her brows crunched in annoyance. She holds up her palms. “Sorry for bumping into you. Please take your hands off me now.”
That’s when I see her inner right wrist. Where a tiny lotus tattoo is embedded.
“Look for the girl with the lotus tattoo,” Dad said.
I lower my head and squint, taking a closer look at her hand. Behind her fingers, my eyes glimpse her white doctor’s coat. She pushes me away, fear replacing her displeasure.
Caught unawares, I lose my hold on her, and my footing. My back meets an almost empty shelf. It crashes down with a loud noise, with me on top. For the second time, my layered clothes shield me from harm.
But when I am able to stand up, the girl is nowhere to be found. I rush from aisle after aisle, frantically searching for her, not minding the curious stares. At the refrigerated section, I screech to a stop as I come upon my reflection on the glass freezers.
It’s no wonder she was frightened of me. Who wouldn’t be afraid of a man with a full-bearded face and long, unkempt hair? Worse, my thick parka, insulated pants and winter boots make me look like I’m thrice the size of my weight and body build. Hurriedly, I take the parka off, shoving it into my backpack. My inner shirt is drenched in sweat and I’m instantly relieved of the unfamiliar heat.
An ear-shattering alarm peals above, followed by a female voice announcing that the supermarket is closing in ten minutes and that everyone must leave. People dash past me in a hurry to get out, pushing their grocery carts toward the cashiers. I follow their trail, where lines are formed and customers are shouting, eager to pay and go home.
I remember: the third wave is more fatal than the first, necessitating a less than five-hour window time for people to shop for their necessities and to avoid riots which spring sporadically everywhere.
I walk past them and stand by the main doors, my eyes wandering, searching for the girl with the lotus tattoo. But there is no sign of her. My heart beats like a drum in my chest as I look at my wristwatch, noting the time.
“You only have eight hours to complete your task,” Dad instructed.
I have to find the girl with the lotus tattoo.
I have to find the woman who formulated the vaccine for the virus.
I have to find the Savior.
Before the world plunges into darkness.