Personally, I think she's stressed beyond reason, beyond repair, even. Can you blame her? You spend your entire life working for something and then in an instant, it's gone.
And you're stuck with your two dorky roommates who follow you around all the time. Awesome.
While Kristy napped, Danielle and I played cards. Then we walked around outside and she showed me where she wants to plant a garden. I told her that a garden sounds like a good idea. Honestly, I think it does. Fresh food? Hell, yes. I'm sick of processed garbage.
When we were done with the garden talk, the two of us explored the rest of the property. Obviously we don't really know the property lines. Stuff like that is meaningless now. What we could do was explore the empty garage and walk around the house. We found a couple of bicycles outside. There's no sign of children inside, so I wonder if the people who lived here hand grandkids, maybe.
The house overlooks the road, but the row of trees in the front yard makes it hard to see unless you know what you're looking for. Maybe that will protect us, at least for a little while.
I hope it does.
March 26th
Kristy is still sick. She laid in bed all day with a fever. Danielle had some Tylenol in her bag, which seemed to help, but after talking about it, we decided that one of us should go try to find other things to help her. Maybe some anti-nausea medication or some drinks. She's not keeping water down. Maybe a soda or sports drink would help.
Danielle elected to stay behind, which was fine with me. I have had crazy cabin fever all week. I knew that I needed to get out. I took the shotgun and an empty backpack and decided to head down the road to see what other houses I could find. It's not like there was gonna be a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Not in Kansas.
The closest neighbor's house was about a half mile walk down the road. I got nervous when I approached, mostly because I really hate zombies. Even worse than that, though, is that the silence is deafening. I've heard that saying before. It only recently started making sense to me.
Each step of my shoes on the gravel sounded like a foghorn. Each step felt like it took forever. There were still crickets chirping and birds making noises, but none of that mattered to me. I had to constantly try to reassure myself that it was, in fact, crickets and birds. Not zombies.
Talking to myself just makes me feel crazier.
So I got to the house. No one in sight. Car in the driveway. I broke a window and waited, but nothing happened. No zombies came. I walked through the house quickly, not bothering to clear it, just trying to find as much as I could.
There was nothing of value in the kitchen. It was basically empty. The downstairs medicine cabinet had some Tylenol, which I grabbed, then decided to check the ones upstairs.
I went upstairs and checked the bathroom. I took a box of pads for Danielle. She'd be wanting those soon enough. There wasn't really anything else, so I left.
When I did, I noticed the car again, and decided to root around for the keys. Just in case. I hadn't driven a car since I got to college, but come on. It's not like it could hurt. I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen to me? I hit a zombie? It's not like there's anyone to give me a speeding ticket.
I found the keys and headed outside. I waited a second before I started the car. Yes, after all that, I suddenly felt a little nervous. I mean, here I was, about to steal someone's car. What if they were coming back for it?
I knew in my head that they were never coming back for it.
I knew it.
It still felt weird, but it was going to save me a lot of time. Not to mention the fact that now we could make trips into nearby towns if we needed to.
I drove the car to the next house down the road. This one was a little further from the others. It looked pretty beat up and I wondered if it had been abandoned before the apocalypse. It could have easily been. The paint was peeling and the porch was falling apart.
Still, I parked right out front, marched my ass to the front door, and knocked.
Nothing.
The front door was unlocked and I walked right in. The thing about living in the country that a lot of people don't realize is that locking your doors is typically unnecessary. Seriously. Almost everyone is armed, so almost no one is going to break in. I mean, why would they? That's your property.
I went right on inside and was instantly hit with the smell of death. No wonder the door was unlocked. It was everywhere. I didn't hear any undead, but I certainly smelled the dead. When I walked into the living room, I saw them.
It was a little family. The mom and two kids were sitting on the couch. They had each been shot. One clear shot to the forehead, that's all it took. Of course.
The dad was in a chair by himself, the gun still dangling from his hand.
I wanted to throw up, but I didn't.
It's hard to imagine what would bring someone to the edge of reason like that. It's hard to imagine what it would take to kill your entire family and yourself, but then, it's also hard to imagine the dead coming back to life.
Artovax was supposed to save us.
It wasn't supposed to make this happen. No one saw it coming. Well, no one but the preppers, but who knows what happened to all of them? They're probably holed up in bunkers somewhere. I don't know.
I searched the house and found antibiotics. There wasn't a full bottle, but half of one, which I figured should be good enough, right? I grabbed that, some fever reducers, the food that was left in the kitchen, then I loaded up the car and headed home.
Well, to my new home.
It still doesn't really feel like "home" yet, but at least Kristy has something to help her feel better.
March 27th
I'm so bored I just might shoot myself.
March 28th
Still bored.
March 29th
Kristy is feeling a lot better. Thank goodness. It was a long few days. Danielle and I knew that she wouldn't die, but it's still good to have our leader up and running around. Plus, now there's another person to play cards with.
When I read about zombie attacks and invasions and infections before the virus actually hit, it always seemed like people imagined you'd stay in this perfectly perfect little world. Like, you'd stay in your house, you'd fortify it, and you'd just live there defending hordes forever.
That's not really the way it is.
In a lot of ways, it's nothing like I imagined it would ever be.
For one, we rarely stay inside. We don't use the bathrooms because obviously there's no electricity, and we don't feel like stinking up the whole house. We also all smell horrible. We haven't found a creek nearby or a lake or anything to bathe in, so basically, we're gross as fuck.
Another difference is that we talk a lot and live our lives as normally as we can. We haven't seen zombies at the house yet. In some ways, it feels like maybe we imagined everything. In some ways, it feels like this is all just a bad dream.
Kristy wants to stay here, but I'm not so sure. We need to find water soon. Like, a legitimate water source. I was thinking that maybe one of the other farms nearby has a well. Maybe that would be a better choice than the house we're at. I seem to be the only one concerned about it though. Kristy keeps saying "things will work out."
I hate when people say that. It's such a copout.
March 30th
Kristy was feeling completely better today. This is good news for everyone. Hurray. No one else got sick, so I'm pretty sure she got a little virus or was just stressed. Not sure. All I know is that she was out of bed all day and not just part of it, so we decided to go to a little exploring.
I drove. No one has really said much, but there's this silent understanding that the car is mine. It's nice having something that belongs to me, especially after all this time. I feel like it's been years since I went shopping or bought new clothes just for me. I feel like it's an entire lifetime ago.
Anyway, we drove around for a bit and saw several houses. One of them had a fac
e peeking out the window. No idea if the person was undead or alive. We didn't stop. Like I said before, people in the country tend to be armed. I don't feel like getting shot. Sometimes it's best to just keep moving along.
After a little while, we found a tiny little town. The sign outside said Altus. There wasn't a lot there, but we did see some survivors trying to build a fence or something. We didn't stop. We just kept driving. Best not to get too close to other survivors. Everyone has their own little cliques and groups and too often, outsides are considered a threat.
Even when they're not.
Just when we were about to turn back, we saw a sign that 1 mile ahead was another town. We had to check it out. None of us had spent a lot of time off campus, except for Kristy, but she had never been there, either.
It looked completely abandoned. A ghost town, almost. We didn't want to stop because we still only had the one shotgun, but we saw a vending machine outside a gas station.
I dug around in the car until I found a bunch of quarters, then I parked and ran up to the machine real quick and bought as many sodas as I could, which was four.
I ran back to the car just as I heard them: the infected.
I don't know if they're faster after dusk or if they're just creepier, but as soon as I closed the door, there were two banging on the car. Kristy wanted to shoot them, but I told her to watch herself. There was no point in attracting more of them.
The one on her side was a little kid, and Danielle started crying in the back seat. She used to have a little brother, and it reminded her of him, I'm sure. She didn't say anything. She just quietly sobbed while I booked it out of there and hurried back down the road. I made a few turns and took the long way, just to be sure we weren't followed.
As if anyone would want to follow the three of us.
When we got back to the house, it was dark. I shut off the engine and we all went inside to our own bedrooms. Even though it's been more than an hour since I started writing, I can still hear Danielle crying. Fuck.
April
April 3rd
Danielle has spent the entire day crying. In fact, she's spent the last couple of days crying and both Kristy and I are totally sick of it. Without the air conditioner running or an air purifier or a fan, the house is eerily quiet except for her sobs.
Don't get me wrong: I totally understand what it's like to lose someone.
But sometimes you just have to move on.
I went into her room today and hugged her for awhile. She talked about her little brother and I talked about my mom and dad. We talked about what happened to them and if they're still alive.
I told her, "We're still alive, so there's a chance for them." That's true, right? I don't feel like it is, but it's the only thing I have. I feel like I have to hang onto at least a little bit of hope. Otherwise I'm as good as the zombies that march around: dead.
After we talked, Danielle came out of her room and we walked around outside. We still don't know what we're doing. We're in this place of stagnation. We don't quite feel comfortable enough to settle in, but we don't really know if we should move on.
How do you make a choice like that?
All I have that's mine is my backpack.
All I have are faded pictures and faded memories.
I feel like my entire life before this is just a blur of stupid nonsense. There was so much time spent studying for tests that don't matter, so much time spent hanging out with people who no longer exist.
And now I'm here, in a farmhouse with my friends.
I need to find something to do.
April 4th
I got a hobby! Well, sort of. Kristy and I decided to explore the attic today. We found some batteries in the kitchen, so we aren't worried about using our flashlights too much. I found the entrance to the attic in my closet and we just had to go up. It's about as creepy as you would expect an old, unused attic to be.
The attic looks like it hasn't be entered in years. Seriously. I would guess at least ten years, but it could easily be more. When we got up the tiny little ladder, we both started coughing from the dust. It was everywhere. Once our lungs adjusted, we finished entering the attic and took a look around.
There were a couple of windows that actually gave a pretty good view of the property. I suggested that if we stay here, we consider moving into the attic permanently. That way, if someone broke into the house while we were asleep, we'd be safe. It would be a great place to hide and it would give us a clear view of the property.
Kristy wasn't sure if Danielle would go for it, but we asked her later, and she seemed open to the idea. We'll talk about it some more and then decide.
Anyway, we walked around, looking through old boxes and trunks. Most of the stuff up there was clothes and toys. There were a few things that seemed like rustic family heirlooms. Usual attic stuff, you know?
But then I found a box with yarn. Tons and tons and tons of yarn, and a pair of knitting needles, and a little how-to book.
And I looked at Kristy, and I told her that I'm going to knit her a sweater.
So I am.
She laughed, but I spent all afternoon working on it until it got dark. These days, when it gets dark, we all just go to bed. There's no point in staying up any later. There's nothing to do, anyway.
April 5th
I worked on my knitting all day, but didn’t manage to make anything of use. Kristy and Danielle both think that I’m wasting my time, but who cares? I try not to let them know that it hurts my feelings because hey, who wants to live with a sissy?
Kristy has taken to running every day. She says it’s to build her endurance. She thinks that Danielle and I should run, too. My asthma is way too bad and I only have one inhaler left. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately because I know I’m going to need to find a new supply of Albuterol.
Either that or figure out a way to naturally deal with asthma.
Danielle joined her today, though, and the two of them were gone for well over an hour. It doesn’t bother me that they’re bonding in this way. We got over the “three is a crowd” thing a long time ago. We had to, if we were going to stay close…if we were going to stay alive.
When the girls got back from their run, we made dinner together. Honestly, there are only so many ways you can eat cold green beans before you want to just kill yourself.
Sometimes, I wonder if I should.
No, I’m not being melodramatic.
I just mean, is this it? Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Do I really want to spend the next 20 years of my life running? Do I really want to be the girl who gets eaten by a zombie when she’s not even 30? Do I really want to spend my years hiding?
It’s hard to wrap my head around the idea that I might not get to do all the normal growing up things. A marriage is basically out of the question, and having kids? In this world? It would just be cruel.
Sometimes it breaks my heart to know that I’ll probably never get to fall in love. I’ve never been in love before and now I never will be. Who would be so stupid as to fall in love when the whole world is dying? I know that it’s selfish, which is what makes it harder to cope with my feelings.
I just miss normal.
I miss movies and homemade popcorn and watching YouTube. I miss cell phones and pictures and Internet arguments. I miss my eBooks. I miss being able to talk to anyone, anywhere in the world, and see what they’re doing. I miss being able to talk to my mom.
I miss everything.
I have to try not to focus on these feelings, though. I know that if I do, the only thing that it’s going to do is destroy what little of me is left.
And let’s be honest: it’s not much.
April 6th
Everything changed today.
Kristy and Danielle were on their run when I heard the noise downstairs. I thought they were back, so I hurried down from my knitting spot upstairs. When I got to the living room, I looked around, but didn’t see the girls.
&n
bsp; Then I saw them: two guys.
And I caught my breath, suddenly regretting the fact that I had been hanging out in a t-shirt with no bra and a pair of cutoffs.
They were tall, sweaty, smelly, and sexy as hell. The taller one had long brown hair, almost to his shoulders. The other one was still taller than me (maybe 5’10 or so), but his hair was short and blonde.
The second they saw me, their guns were raised, and my hands were in the air. Then we just sort of stared at each other for the longest time. It felt like hours. Their eyes took in every inch of me, and I wonder what they were thinking.
I haven’t looked in the mirror in days.
My hair was pulled back in a braid to keep the grease and nastiness at bay. I don’t get to bathe much. None of us do.
After the longest time, the tall guy spoke.
“Who are you?” He asked, lowering his weapon. I put my hands on my hips, suddenly pissed. Who am I? Who am I? Seriously? He was the one who broke into our house, when my friends were gone, no less, and he has the audacity to ask who I am?
Fuck that.
I glared at him, darkening my gaze. I don’t have any notion that I scared him at all, but I hope that I at least made my point. He’s not taking me without a fight.
I didn’t answer him. Then it was his turn to glower, and the smaller guy, the blonde one, started laughing.
“She doesn’t like you, man,” he muttered, cracking up. He slapped his knee like this was an ordinary, every-day situation, like this was the kind of thing that happened to them all the time.
“Who are you?” Tall boy repeated.
“Fuck you,” I spat. “Get out of my house.”
He looked surprised at that, given my state of undress and my crazy hair and the fact that I’m not exactly a big girl. In fact, I’m almost tiny. At 5’6, I was slender before the apocalypse. Now I’m basically emaciated.
Stories in a Lost World: Bridget Page 2