The Dystopian Diaries

by K. W. Callahan

  I’m at the maintenance shed, but I didn’t receive the welcome I was hoping for. In fact, I didn’t receive ANY welcome at all. The place is abandoned, or at least APPEARS to be abandoned. The mattresses are still on the floor, and there are a couple chairs and a table still here, but it looks like all the supplies are gone. And the entry door was open when I arrived.

  I wonder where Jesse and Madeline went. I wonder if they had the same idea that I did about seeing if there were houses outside the club in which to hold out for the winter. I don’t know. What I DO know is that now I’m really screwed. While I have shelter, I have no food. And I have no fishing pole to fish with since Luther took that when he raided my camp.

  This is NOT good – not good at all. This was my last hope. I could stay here at the maintenance shed, but for what, just to slowly starve to death? Sounds like fun. No, I don’t think that will be happening.

  But I know what I’m going to do now. And tomorrow will be the perfect day to do it.

  October 31st

  Halloween

  8:58 a.m.

  It has dawned overcast and cold with a stiff wind blowing in from the west and a heavy frost on the ground. Fitting weather conditions considering the day.

  It’s time now. I think I’ll go see Miles. At this point, I don’t even care if Luther is there. Plus, I don’t think lightening will strike twice. And if it does, maybe it will just put me out of my misery. Frankly, I don’t really give a shit. There’s nothing left for me on this earth the way it stands now anyway.

  10:37 a.m.

  I enjoyed a hearty (relatively speaking considering the circumstances) meal of the rest of the last can of baked beans, an entire can of corned beef hash that I’d been saving for a special occasion, and a couple somewhat stale crackers. I feel full for the first time in weeks. I think I’m on the verge of being sick considering how much my stomach has shrunk and how much I ate, but I’ll take it.

  I’m back at camp, sitting beneath a tree beside where I buried Miles and Ben. It’s fitting that I end my journey where it began almost two months ago. I feel I’ve given surviving in this new world a fair shake, but I’m made my share of mistakes along the way, that’s for sure. And the revelation that my involvement in the gas station robbery, paired with my current lack of food and quality shelter has left me with little reason to continue my attempts at survival. I’m not one to give up easily, but I just don’t see any way forward. And even if I did, I’m not sure I would make the attempt at exploring it. The overwhelming guilt that comes with knowing that I’m responsible for ending the lives of six innocent people – even if it was indirectly – is not something I want to live with.

  I’m going to seal this journal in an air-tight freezer bag once I’m done writing and leave it sitting against the tree on which I’m leaning as I write these words. It will serve as my epitaph and an explanation of my time here and my demise to anyone who finds it – IF anyone finds it. If not, it won’t matter.

  God I wish Luther hadn’t taken my gun. With the way things have been going lately, though, even if I had it to off myself with, it probably would just misfire and leave me injured in some horribly gruesome and grotesque way. Guess it’s just as well I don’t have it. I think that hanging myself from this tree – while maybe more macabre – will suffice. The branches are low enough that I can climb up, attach a sturdy rope that Luther left behind at my camp, slip the noose around my neck, and jump.

  If all goes right, and I get a good snap of the neck, it should be quick and relatively painless…at least that’s what I’m hoping. The last thing I want is to be hanging up there slowly strangling to death.

  Hell, I can’t even commit suicide the way I’d like without my gun. I know that hanging myself isn’t much of an ending, but it’s all I can come up with other than stabbing myself, which doesn’t seem real appealing.

  I don’t really have any grand last words. My life was good, nothing special, but good. I can’t complain. I mean, the last few weeks haven’t been easy, but the other 37 years have been decent. I’d like to know how all this will eventually pan out, what the world will become. I don’t really care all that much considering that I won’t be around to see it, but I’m curious nonetheless. I can’t imagine it will be much easier for the others left behind than it has been for me, but considering I’ve been so cut off from other survivors, I have no idea what things might be like in other areas. And frankly, after the experiences I’ve had just around here, I’m not sure I want to find out.

  Sometimes I wonder if humans will make it at all. I suppose the world will go back to a time something akin to the pioneer days. But I don’t think we’re a hearty enough breed anymore to survive in such conditions. I think that disease, infection, and thin skin after having lived the good life for so long will eventually take its toll and wipe out the majority of the remaining souls. But who knows, maybe the human race will surprise me, well, I guess not ME since I’ll be gone, but maybe it will surprise itself. Or maybe the Su flu will adapt, spread to animals or reappear during flu season next year and finally finish us off.

  Either way, I think it will be a tough go of it for those who remain. In a way, I don’t really envy the course that lays ahead for them. I think it’s going to be a long road. But maybe, just maybe, if people can get through this first winter, there might be a chance. I’m not holding my breath, but I suppose there’s always hope.

  If only Miles were here, it might give me that spark of life to forge ahead, if not for me, at least for him. But without that companionship, and without the presence of someone by my side, I’m just not finding it worthwhile. It’s different when you have someone relying on you. It might even be enough to overcome the horrible effects of the guilt weighing on me. But without him, it’s just not…

  November 2nd

  11:03 a.m.

  I have a lot to write, and NO, I’m not back from the dead, so please bear with me.

  So yesterday, as I was making my final preparations to off myself, I heard a noise nearby in the woods. At first, I wondered if it was my friendly squirrel, happy to see I’d returned and hoping for some scraps of food to come his way. Then, sadly, I hoped it might be Luther. I had a request to have him put me down with my own gun all ready to go. But it wasn’t him either.

  It was weird, because at first, I thought it was a wounded animal. But the more I listened, the more the sounds seemed almost like the cries of a baby.

  I was mildly perturbed at the interruption of my plans, fearing that should I delay my suicide for too long, I might not have the guts to go through with it. After a few minutes of searching, intermingled with pauses to listen, I was able to follow the sound of the noises to a small indentation in the ground surrounded by a tangle of vines, clumps of leaves and other forest debris. The divot in the earth was almost indiscernible as I approached, but the continued cries gave away its position.

  As I neared the spot, I caught a flash of white through the debris surrounding the area. At first, I wondered if the spot was the location for a burrow of bunnies. But the white looked too big to be a bunny. Then I thought the white might be some sort of albino woodland creature – a possum or potentially even the white stripe of a skunk, which immediately put me on guard. But it wasn’t that either.

  When I finally got to the divot, I was stunned to find two, small, roly-poly little pups. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Out here in the middle of nowhere were two pure-white puppies. They couldn’t have been more than a couple weeks old.

  At first, I was a little hesitant. I wasn’t sure if I should touch them. I was afraid that by doing so, it might make their mother wary of returning. So I waited. I waited about half an hour listening to the poor little things cry. But there was no sign of a returning parent and I began to wonder if they had been abandoned. Then it started to snow.

  Fearful of leaving the poor little things unattended, I made a decision. I figured that if the mother dog was returning, she would have done so. And with the
afternoon hours fading fast, I knew it wouldn’t be long before it was dark out. With the snow and dropping temperatures, I felt it my moral obligation to help the poor pups as best I could. And here’s the funny thing, they look like they have some yellow lab in them – just like Miles.

  It makes me wonder about the circumstances surrounding the whole thing. We had come out to the club – Miles and I – about a week or so before the whole flu thing really got out of control just to get the lay of the land. During that time, he ran off and was gone for several hours. I wonder if old boy was busy getting BUSY if you know what I mean. The timing would have worked out pretty darn close. That was toward the middle of August. I think the gestation period for a puppy to reach full term inside their mother is about two months, putting their birthdates right around the middle of October. Their mother, living in the wild, may have found herself in a situation where she couldn’t care for her babies (or maybe these were the only ones that had survived this long), and abandoned them. I wonder where she is now. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just hope she’s okay.

  But anyway, back to my tale. With light fading, the temperature dropping, and the snow continuing to fall, I took off my coat and tied the sleeves so that the inner fleece-lined portion formed a sort of basket with the sleeves as the handle. Then I placed the two pups inside to keep them warm.

  Next, I made my way back to the maintenance shed unsure of how I’d care for myself, let alone the two sweet things I had in tow with me. It continued to snow for the whole trip back, and it had me kicking myself that I’d left the shed’s door open when I departed earlier that day. That’s why I was surprised to find the shed door closed upon my return. At first, I just figured that the wind had blown it shut. But with the way my luck had been running, I knew better than to tempt fate and just go barging in. And lucky for me!

  Instead, I stashed my newfound friends, snug in their coat basket, behind a clump of trees. As darkness fell, I crept close enough to the shed to take a quick peek inside.

  I was stunned to see Luther. But he wasn’t alone. Madeline was with him. She was tied up on the mattress where I had rested when I had my head injury. I didn’t see Jesse anywhere inside.

  Oops, gotta go. Have work to do. I’ll finish my story later.

  November 3rd

  9:39 a.m.

  Sorry about the delay, but now back to my story from yesterday. When I had to stop, I was writing that I had just gotten to the maintenance shed, stashed the pups, and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be Luther holding Madeline prisoner.

  At first I was filled with rage at what I saw. I wanted to barge into the shed and lay into Luther. But I calmed myself, realizing that Luther was psychotic and armed with multiple guns while I was only armed with seething anger and a knife. I wanted so badly to exact my revenge on Luther for what he did to Miles, but I knew that it was not the moment. Charging into the maintenance shed would likely result in me getting shot, Madeline continuing to be held hostage, and the puppies freezing or starving to death alone in the woods or being eaten by some wild animal.

  Therefore, I made a hasty retreat, gathered up the puppies, and found a good spot where I could settle down and watch the maintenance shed unseen. I came up with a mental plan while I sat there slowly being enveloped by the shroud of darkness that came with November’s early nightfall.

  But sitting there on my unplanned stakeout wasn’t easy. I was shivering like crazy, doing my best to keep the puppies warm and quiet. Amazingly, the little beasts somehow managed to find a stick of beef jerky I’d forgotten about in a pocket in the inner lining of my coat. That managed to keep them happy for a while as I waited.

  And then I saw my chance.

  About an hour after darkness fell, the door to the maintenance shed opened and someone emerged with a flashlight. I could tell it was Luther by the size of the dark form framed in the light of the doorway as he exited the shed. I figured that he was coming out to take a pee. And I was right.

  I watched as he made his way toward me, and then slightly to my right, near where the small clearing around the shed met with the forest. I was close enough to hear the sound as he unzipped his pants. Then I could hear the sound of liquid hitting leaves.

  I knew that this was my chance – possibly my one and only chance.

  I unsheathed my hunting knife, crept from beside the puppies, both of whom were thankfully asleep after their beef jerky meal, and slipped quietly up behind Luther. He never heard me coming.

  I had my hunting knife out and ready, prepared to plunge it right into his back, but I feared that stabbing him from behind might not work. I’ve never stabbed anyone before, and I was fearful that should my knife blade be hindered in its penetration by his coat, multiple layers of clothing, or if I struck bone, it might not be enough to debilitate a nut like Luther. Therefore, I turned my knife around so that its hard steel butt protruded from my fist rather than its blade. Then I delivered the hardest blow I could with it right to the back of his head. Even then, it wasn’t enough to knock him out completely. He crumpled to his knees, dropping his flashlight in the process, dazed but still conscious. That’s when I saw my opportunity. His light came to rest in a position that illuminated Luther’s upper torso. In so doing, I saw the exposed flesh of his neck. I flipped the knife back around, blade first. And in that fraction of a second, in my mind I saw poor Ben’s slit throat, thought of Miles, and thought of how Luther had treated me and was now treating Madeline. And in that fraction of a second, I felt my arm draw back, my rage take over, and my hand plunge the knife into Luther’s neck. I don’t even remember my arm swinging the knife. I just remember the result.

  The knife slid in much easier than I thought it would. It came out just as easy. It went in again, and again with just as little friction until Luther’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap.

  Interestingly, I felt no remorse. There was no guilt as I had felt regarding the gas station customers. Even though this time I was directly responsible for taking a human life, there was not one ounce of me that felt bad about it. In fact, I almost felt good about ridding the world of someone like Luther. People like that don’t need to be here. They only bring misery to others. And while I didn’t feel absolved from my previous sin of fleeing the gas station, I felt at least a little vindication. Maybe that’s why I was left here. Maybe killing Luther and saving Madeline was my purpose. Fate has a funny way about it. To think that Miles and his fornicating that day several months ago may have resulted in the puppies that kept me from killing myself, and in turn, save the puppies as well as Madeline, is odd, yet it inspires hope for the future.

  So after I killed Luther, I retrieved the puppies, who I was glad missed the gruesome scene of their new master committing such an act. Then I made my grand entrance into the maintenance shed. I was finally able to play the knight in shining armor there to rescue his fair maiden. Madeline was flabbergasted to see me to say the least.

  At first she urged me to be careful, that Luther was lurking somewhere nearby. But I placated her misgivings, explaining (minus the gruesome details) that I had dealt with Luther (whose body I carried to a nearby sinkhole to dispose of the next day – let the wild animals take care of the rest).

  As I untied her, Madeline explained that apparently while I was on my journey into town, she and Jesse had decided to come looking for me at my camp to see if I wanted to join them. When they’d found me absent, they figured I’d moved on to a new location. What they didn’t expect to find there was Luther. He shot and killed Jesse and took Madeline prisoner. He tied her up at his own camp while he went back to the maintenance shed and collected as many of their supplies as he could carry. This was why I found the shed looking abandoned when I’d returned from town. But poor weather had forced them back to the shed temporarily, and that’s when I found them.

  I’ll write more later. For now, we have to make another trip. Madeline and I have been hiking back and forth between Luther’s camp (a goo
d two hour hike away) and the maintenance shed to haul his supplies (which contain many of MY supplies) back here.

  November 4th

  5:45 p.m.

  Woo! What a day. Busy, busy, busy!

  I’m sitting here with Madeline beside the small makeshift stove that Jesse built inside the maintenance shed. Madeline is petting the puppies while I write.

  Earlier this evening, I read Madeline some of my previous journal entries dated from around the time when I first arrived to the club. She seemed to enjoy listening to them. I think an evening reading could become our regular form of entertainment since there is little else to keep us occupied in here once darkness falls. She tried to remember where she was and what she was doing to match each of my specific journal entry dates. This made the process even more interesting. I like to get her take on what has gone on since the outbreak.

  But now let me take a little time to catch up since my last entry (once I rescued Madeline). So once I freed Madeline from Luther’s cruel bindings, I introduced her to the puppies. I have since learned that the tiny tots are boy and girl – brother and sister. Madeline fell in love with them instantly. I think they have helped to take her mind off yet another traumatic stint spent with Luther.

  Oh, that reminds me, I’ve named the puppies. The boy is Miles Jr. (of course), and the girl is Selim (Miles spelled backward – “Selly” for short). I thought it only fitting to christen them after their father. Whether or not Miles actually IS their father, I’ll never truly know. But in my heart of hearts, I can’t help but believe he is.

  I know that Selim is kind of a funny name, but I thought that she being a girl and all, she’s kind of the reverse Miles. Plus, I thought the name a fitting honor considering how backward things had gotten for me when I found her. I got Miles senior when I was just starting out at the grocery store in my old life. When I got Selly, I was just preparing to end things in my new life. And Miles created Selim when I had hope for this place being my salvation against the flu. When I found her, all hope was lost. But now, she and her brother have given me renewed hope. The two sets of circumstances couldn’t have been more opposite – more backward. And I wanted to honor the pups’ patriarch with both names, so I thought this would be a fitting way.