Kristy thinks I’m being melodramatic, but I saw the way Bridget listened to what I said. She took a puff of her inhaler, and it reminded me that we need to be looking for those, too. She’s down to her last one and none of us wants her to die.
When we find Cokes, we always put those in Bridget’s room. She used to protest when we would, saying it wasn’t fair, saying we needed to share, but now she just thanks us. The Coke has enough caffeine that it helps open her airways when she’s struggling. Sometimes for a really minor attack she can get by without her inhaler, if she’s careful. She can sip the coke until she calms down. Other times, though, her flare-ups are so strong that she needs more than one dose of her inhaler.
I see the look on her face as she makes the decision to take another puff.
It’s not really a question of whether it’s worth it to use up an extra puff or not.
It’s a question of whether she wants to die today or when her inhaler runs out because it’s going to.
So sometimes, Bridget thinks she might as well go now.
Sometimes we all think we might as well go now.
Sometimes it’s hard to go on living.
But none of us ever says that out loud.
May 9th
It’s still raining, but instead of spending the day sleeping or lounging around, I worked out in my bedroom. I cracked the window to prevent the room from getting too stinky from the scent of my sweat. I don’t want to make Kristy mad. It’s not that she has to stay with me: she doesn’t. She could always move into Paul’s room since he sleeps with Bridget now, but I don’t want her to.
I want her to stay with me, to keep me safe.
I want her to be near me.
Over the last few months, I’ve gotten used to her touches in the night and the way she snuggles against me. There’s just something about Kristy that makes me feel very complete, very safe, and very almost-normal.
So I’m doing everything in my power to keep her happy, to keep her from getting frustrated with me.
Today, that meant not stinking up our room. I had to do something, though. My runs are the only thing I have that even sort of clears my head. I couldn’t lose that yet. Not today.
After the hour or so I spent doing high kicks and sit-ups in the bedroom, I went out into the rain. When I was certain no one was looking, I stripped down and washed myself with a bar of soap. I have no idea if everyone else had the same idea or not. We all kind of kept to ourselves today. One thing is for sure: I’ve never felt so clean.
May 11th
We finally had a day without rain. Thank goodness. We all went outside and talked about how we’d fortify the house from intruders: both undead and not-so-dead. If there’s anything we’ve all learned, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.
Sometimes it’s strange to me that three roommates ended up living in an abandoned farmhouse with two random brothers, but I try not to over think things. I could let my mind wander until I went insane if I needed to, and I don’t need that. The only thing that I need right now is to breathe and stay focused. Can I do that? I don’t know, but I’m trying.
Right now, the first floor windows are boarded up. We decided that we should board up one of the doors, too. After some discussion, we decided to board up the front door. Then we can still use the back door for going in and out of the house. No, having an unfortified door isn’t exactly smart, but our hope is that once people see the front of the house, they might not waste their time looking in the back.
It’s dumb, but it’s all we’ve got for now. Paul and Keith want to put out spikes on the driveway to pop the tires of anyone who tries to drive here, but Kristy argued against it. She said that it didn’t make sense. If someone comes over unannounced and they’re evil, do we really want them trapped here? She said unless we were willing to slaughter them, she didn’t want to.
But then Keith and Paul just looked at each other, and I knew that was exactly what they wanted to do. It’s not that they’re cold blooded killers. It’s just that in this world, you really can’t trust anyone. The last thing we want is for someone to come by, see our place, and think they can leave and come back with reinforcements. Yeah, there are plenty of houses around, but ours is all set up.
In the end, they decided to do something to deter drivers from coming in, but I’m not sure if they decided to sprawl nails out or what. Bridget told them to make sure we have a way to leave before they do whatever it is that they have planned. So they moved our car out of the driveway and to the side of the yard. There are so many trees that it’s easy to have a not-very-noticeable car parked there. It’s now parked between some trees and covered with some brush. We can still get to the road, but the driveway to the house in now inaccessible.
If anyone comes to our place, we’re all going to turn into murderers.
I’m not sure how I’m going to handle it. I understand that our safety comes first, but the idea of killing someone who isn’t infected still kills me.
Keith sat me down and talked with me for a little while. I think he could tell how uncomfortable I am with the whole idea.
“Look,” he said. “We don’t know if they’re infected. We don’t know if they’re going back for reinforcements. We don’t know what their intentions are. This is the best way to keep ourselves safe because like it or not, we’re a family now.”
When he said that, my heart felt like it could swell with pride or burst from sadness.
Family.
It’s something I haven’t had in so long, something I’ve honestly missed. In the end, I cried and Keith held me for awhile until I was done.
“It’s going to be okay, Dani,” he told me. He stroked my cheek softly for a second, and I thought that he might kiss me, but he didn’t. He just held me a little longer, then he left. I heard him and Paul talking later. Keith told him that he’d explained things to me and that I was on board now.
“Good,” Paul said. “Can’t have anyone going soft.”
Now it’s dark and I’m alone in my room. Kristy is still downstairs talking with Bridget and Paul. Keith is asleep. I just can’t help wondering why going soft is such a bad thing. It’s hard to switch gears. It’s not easy.
I grew up in a world where you didn’t just murder someone without reason. Even if that reason was self defense, it was still sketchy. It was still frowned upon. But now? Now there’s no law. There’s no guide. There are no police. Now the only thing we have to guide us is the avoidance of death.
And everyone’s morals are a little bit off.
And that’s the way it has to be for us to survive.
May 14th
If the world ever goes normal again, I want a cheeseburger. I don’t want diet food. I’m scrawny enough now that the idea of going on a diet makes me want to puke. No. All I want is a huge, delicious cheeseburger with all the toppings.
We made a campfire outside tonight and sat around it, talking about the things we miss most. It was weird to hear the things everyone said. Bridget said her nebulizer. Paul said his bike. Keith mumbled something about steaks, but then we all got super hungry and just started talking about food.
The truth is that the end of the world is not so different from the beginning or the middle. We’re still here, after all. We’re still alive. We’re still living. The difference now is that things are slower. Things go at a snail’s pace and we have all the time in the world.
Everyone, that is, except for Bridget. When she said she missed her nebulizer, she wasn’t saying that to be snarky or silly. She was saying it because her inhaler is almost out and we need to find her something new very soon. Where exactly do you get asthma inhalers in the apocalypse?
With the pollen as crazy as it is, everyone’s allergies are acting up. It just makes Bridget even worse. She was wheezing like crazy tonight when she was in bed. I heard Paul whispering sweet nothings to her, but we all know that the time has come to create a plan: a Bridget survival plan.
After she fell asleep, Pa
ul came out and all of us talked. We decided that tomorrow, Keith, Kristy, and I would go out and look for something. She takes Albuterol, but any kind of asthma inhaler would work for her. Paul told us a few names of things to check for, but the end goal is the same: get Bridget breathing okay.
I’m worried about her.
May 15th
Today was a special kind of hell, but I’m alive. I’m alive and I’m breathing, at least for now. I don’t know where I am or how I’m going to get home. Lucky for me that I forgot to take my journal out of my backpack when we left the house today. Otherwise I’d be scared and bored. As it is, I’m just scared.
The day started out really normal. You know, as normal as any day gets in the apocalypse. It rained a little, but as soon as it let up, Kristy and I hopped in the car with Keith to go procure asthma medication for Bridget.
What none of us realized is that we wouldn't make it back before dark like we promised, and it's not like there was anything anyone could do about it. No one would come to save us. Bridget was in no state to run and Paul wouldn't leave her. End of story.
We each packed enough food to last us the 10 hours or so that we'd be gone. We also brought water bottles and flashlights, just in case we needed them. Most of us tried not to drink too much during the day when we were out. No, we didn't want to get dehydrated, but we also didn't want to get eaten by an undead while we were peeing.
It's only logical.
Anyway, the plan was basically to search a couple of houses and see what we found. If we couldn't find an inhaler, we'd go to the school in town and see if the nurse's station had something there. The town that our house is close to is very small. I'm surprised it even has a school, but it does. We've passed through the town a few times, but never stopped. There was never any reason to.
The first two houses were a bust, but at the third house, I could tell a kid had lived there. Maybe even a sick kid. It felt weird to feel excited that someone might have suffered just so Bridget can take their inhaler. It still feels weird. Even now, in the darkness, with them all around me, so close I can hear them not breathing, I feel gross. I feel disgusted with myself. I feel disappointed.
I feel sick that for just a moment, just until I realized what I was doing, I felt glad that a little child suffered because it meant my friend wasn't going to anymore.
Something is wrong with me.
It's all getting to my head.
And I'm not sure how much longer I can do this for.
I found the inhaler and I grabbed it, shoving it in my pocket. I wouldn't even put it in my backpack. I couldn't. I had to have it close to me, to feel it against my body, to know constantly that I was going to save her. I was going to save Bridget.
Me.
I ran through the house while Kristy and Keith were outside, securing the area and making sure there weren't any Infected wandering around. There weren't. We all knew it. We'd been alone all day and we would continue to be alone. It was essentially a guarantee.
But nothing is ever really guaranteed. Not really.
The little boy used to be sick: that much was true. What was even truer was that he had never really stopped being sick, it had just changed into a darker kind of sickness: the kind that kept you awake at night, the kind that made you wish you would just die.
He was alive and charged at me before I could do anything about it. I tried to kick him, but he was fast. I wonder how long he was alive before he turned. I wonder where his parents were. Had he eaten them? Had they turned? Were they downstairs somewhere? How had I missed them?
I hopped onto the dresser and crawled along, barely able to keep out of his reach. Lucky for me, he couldn't have been more than five. He wasn't very tall. My options basically consisted of going for the window and trying to get out before he attacked me or trying to attack him before going for the window. That was it.
In the end, I didn't know how hard it would be to open the window, so I grabbed for a huge action figure toy and whacked the little boy with it a few times. Nothing. Then I remembered the knife in my backpack, and I pulled it out.
When I looked at him, all I could see was Dillon. He had the same little eyes, the same tiny nose. The little boy even smiled the way Dillon did.
And in that moment, I realized one thing: I'm going insane.
This isn't just some casual thing, some "oh, she had a meltdown" sort of thing.
No, this is something deeper, something darker. I can feel it taking over me. I can feel myself slowly going crazy with each passing day. It feels like a cool summer breeze washing over me: slowly at first, then very fast, until nothing else matters, just the feeling against my skin.
Then I stabbed him in the face until he stopped looking like my brother and I went out the window onto the little roof that covered the sunroom. I threw the inhaler to Kristy, who caught it. Of course she did. Little miss smarty pants never met a sport she didn't like, including softball, including baseball, including anything that involves running.
You name it, she's good at it.
I realized that I couldn't jump from the second floor, but there was no way I'd go back inside through the house. No way. If the little boy was there and I didn't see him, what else was lurking in the shadows? What else was hiding in the darkness? What else could find me before I completely lost myself?
What else?
In the end, I lowered my body until I was hanging off the edge of the little overhang. Then I let myself fall onto the ground. My body made a loud noise, a loud "thud" noise, and shook the ground. That's when it happened. That's when we heard them.
There wasn't just one zombie. We couldn't be that lucky. There wasn't just one infected or one little trio of them. There were a lot. There were a ton. There were zombies upon zombies and we were their salvation. We were all that they could see.
We were the only thing standing between them and being enlightened.
So we did the only thing we could: we ran. They were already between us and the car, so we ran in the other direction, back toward the barn. It was stupid. We should have just fought off the ones between us and the car, but why would we? Why wouldn't we just turn and run?
We made it to the barn and got inside before they reached us. We closed the door ahead of us and then quickly climbed up to the hay loft. Down in the barn were a couple of things: a tractor, some stalls, random farm tools and machinery.
It wasn't long before we heard them outside the building. We all huddled together and Keith motioned for us not to move, so we didn't. We all just lay there, quietly, barely touching, in the shadows of the barn.
While we were laying, we were on our backs. We watched the sun through the slats in the roof and the side of the barn. I found myself hoping that it wouldn't rain. We didn't have blankets. We only had each other. We just stayed there. The zombies found the barn. They shook it and touched it and rattled it. Eventually, they would either get bored and leave or break in and come find us. None of us knew which we should expect.
How long does it take for a zombie to get bored? Does anyone even know? Or want to know? Would we lay here until eventually, we'd just starve to death? Was this really how I was going to go? Dying in a barn in the zombie apocalypse? I survived bad weather and lack of food and boredom, but no, this? This was how I was going to die?
Fuck that.
After an hour I rolled over and started kissing Kristy. She didn't protest. She didn't even hesitate. She just went with it. Keith let a deep breath out, like he'd been holding it, but he didn't make any other noises, he just let us kiss. It was perfect. It was just what I needed, just what I wanted.
Kristy has known for a long time that I like her. I knew when she didn't move into Paul's room that she liked me back. This was finally our chance. If we were going to die, after all, it might as well be fully satisfied.
Keith didn't move an inch until I reached for him, then he came over, closer to us. And in the darkness of the barn, in the stillness of the air, we made each othe
r forget about the world outside of the loft. We made each other forget about the dead about things that ought to be dead but aren't. Then we made each other remember what it means to be alive.
May 17th
We woke up at first light and peered out the window of the loft. There were about 15 Infected standing around. That's not so many, not when they move slow. We all hesitated for a long time, but then Keith shrugged.
"No one's coming for us," he said. "We're going to go one way or another." Kristy and I, in our state of half-dress, agreed with him. It was now or in two days when we all died of dehydration. We somehow managed to get our clothes back on and Kristy grabbed the inhaler, which was sitting in the corner. I was mad she almost forgot it, but she didn't, and that's what mattered.
Once we got down from the loft, we went out the back of the barn and looped around in a huge loop, making the zombies following us walk away from the barn a bit. Then we scurried back around to the front, managed to make it to the car, and started the engine. Then we were off.
We took a lot of twists and turns on our way home, hoping upon hope that we weren't followed. We weren't. We managed to get home, park the car, and make a promise to never again speak about the things that happened in the barn.
That couldn't happen again.
May 18th
The inhaler works! Bridget is doing better and we have at least another month, even under the worst of circumstances, to find her another one.
I'm glad because I do not feel like dealing with crazy little zombie children again.
I'm glad because I don't feel like emotionally killing off my little brother again.
I'm just glad.
Kristy and I went on a run this morning. We didn't talk much, but we stopped and made out for a little while, giving ourselves the thing we most wanted from each other, before we went back to the house. Anyone who thought we looked sweaty or guilty would know it was from the run.
Stories in a Lost World: Danielle Page 2