The Bath Salts Journals (Volume 1)

by Alisse Lee Goldenberg

  I have been trying to convince David that it is of vital importance that I stay indoors and work on my quilt of children’s clothes. He’s not really buying that excuse, but I have got some good work done. My stitching is getting pretty good.

  It is getting so frigid outside that it is almost painful making the trek to the gorals’ shed and to the garden. Those poor gorals refuse to go outside. They are bred to withstand such cold, yet don’t want to be out there. I think it must be colder than minus sixty Celsius out there, and I do not believe I’m exaggerating. I miss summer. In fact, I miss all seasons other than winter. This weather sucks. I don’t even want to go next door, and they don’t want to come here. Every morning David and I wake up to the kids in our bed, and we dread the lukewarm shower and the cold water as we brush our teeth, and then we hate getting dressed and going out to do what must be done. We are trying to bribe each other to do our chores. It’s horrible. It’s been this way since before the snowstorm, and I want it over. I want to go home.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  I was out checking the perimeter with Mike today. The other perimeter. We agreed that maybe a second one was necessary. It’s further on, maybe twenty metres past the fence. We tried to make it look as natural as possible, sticks and stones (which will fucking break bones, and skulls in particular). I don’t want it to look like an obvious border because I don’t want people to know we’re here. I wanted something there, not as a defensive thing, but more of a warning for us. If the border is disturbed, then I will know something is past the “safe zone” and wandering around near the fence. Animals usually will walk over the border, but zombies will shamble right through.

  Anyway, found a couple of frozen zombies while we were checking the border. Smashed them up and then I showed Mike my body hole. The one with the least bodies. Honestly, I wanted to know how he’d deal.

  And…he was okay. I think. He looked at the bodies in the hole (just three!) while I explained I was waiting for the thaw before disposing of them. And my reasons, blah blah. And that there were, uh, other places.

  “Babe…I understand why you’re doing this. Yes, it makes total logical and practical sense, but it’ll freak people out a bit. A lot, actually. So…maybe we’ll just not tell anybody. And please, I know you like to think purely in a practical sense, but sometimes, you have to put a bit of human into your mix.”

  Yeah. That makes sense. I mean, Alexis and David already know that, IN THEORY, I would rather hide the bodies until spring, but they don’t know that I’ve already done it, or how many bodies there are, or that there’s more than one place, or that there are not just zombie bodies. I was kind of selling it to them as “Oh, I found this ditch; we can put the bodies in there, and we’ve got a zombie here already.” But again, they never really bought into it, nor did I ever do it publicly. Maybe they thought I was kidding. I don’t want people thinking I’ve really gone off the deep end. Just teetering, really! I have been just me on my own with my kitty for a long time. She’s great, but she doesn’t talk much. Maybe Mike will help me with some more human type thoughts.

  Also, he agreed with me about the hooch.

  Sometimes I wonder if I like the killing I’m doing. Or if I’m just getting used to it.

  January 3

  Man, I sounded like a bit of a whiner the other day. I didn’t really mean to come across that way. I looked at the date, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. At this point in time, I would have been in Aruba with my family, my parents, my siblings, and my niece. My mom had been planning this epic sixtieth birthday trip for everyone, and we would have left yesterday.

  I tried to call my brother again but to no avail. My last shred of hope is that maybe it’s our phone that’s broken, but I sincerely doubt that’s the case.

  I thought about our friend Jonathon today, and how David told me about his death. The thought that any member of our family met a similar fate is simply horrifying to me, yet I realize that most of them did.

  Olivia came over to see how we’re doing. She seemed concerned that we may be dealing with a bit of cabin fever, and I can see how that is a valid worry of hers. We decided to organize a bit of a games night tonight. David suggested that we play an epic, no-holds-barred game of Monopoly. That is indeed what ended up occurring; naturally, he won. He is absolutely ruthless when it comes to that game.

  Olivia says that in spite of the cold, Xuân and Mike have been sneaking off to a corner of the compound together. They seem to be conspiring about something. I am not too concerned. I really don’t see what they could be plotting. We have no leader to usurp and no horde of food or weapons that we keep from one another. Both trailers are exactly alike. I think she’s worried over nothing. I understand why they may have a desire to be alone with one another. It’s perfectly natural to desire this, especially when we’re living practically on top of each other here. I don’t begrudge them this at all.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  As our moonshine will be the most precious commodity (besides people), we decided to start up our moonshine inside the compound. We can work on it when we’re doing “interior perimeter checks.” I also don’t want to worry about zombies, whose numbers have dropped a lot since the snowstorm. We’re finding frozen zombipops (or zombicicles? I just can’t decide which word I like better!). Just bash ‘em in the head and drag them off to the hole. Some of them could be bandits who froze to death, but hey, better safe than zombified.

  Mike has watched his friends make booze in sheds before, and I had some handy-dandy reference books. But we agree we have no fucking idea what we’re doing. And no one must know. I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up and then have the thing blow up in our faces.

  We have three containers. I wanted to name our babies Three Sprogs Estate Winery. But I liked his idea of the Triumvirate better. So now, we have little Pompey, Julius, and Hank Scorpio.

  January 5

  I’m beginning to think like Olivia about this whole Xuân and Mike thing. As I was doing what had to be done today by milking Doogoo and tending to our hydroponic garden, the two of them were sneaking around, talking in hushed voices, and giggling conspiratorially. Something is definitely up. I don’t think it’s sinister, or even mean-spirited. However, a plot is most certainly hatching between those two.

  I spoke with Olivia about what I’d seen, and she and Dan told me that it had been like that for a few days now. I don’t know what to think about this development. Part of me feels wary about their behaviour, while another part of me feels happy that they have found some sort of outlet. I almost laugh to think about what they may be planning. Perhaps they have been sneaking off to solve the world’s zombie problem. However, it’s more likely they have a secret love nest where they go to be alone.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  Mike killed a bandit today. I’d been dealing with a zombie and the guy apparently was coming up behind me when Mike bashed him in the head with a shovel.

  The guy went down, dead. I stared at Mike, wondering if he was going to flip out about killing a man.

  He looked at me and shrugged. “Not my first rodeo.”

  We took both bodies to a pit.

  January 6

  I am not impressed. Not impressed in the slightest. Olivia was with the triplets and me, while David was out tending to the animals and the plants. Suddenly, I heard this eardrum-shattering BOOM! Out the window, I saw a dark plume of smoke. I left Olivia with the kids, grabbed my parka and headed out into the cold.

  Outside, I met up with my husband, and the two of us took off in the direction of the noise. We saw Xuân and Mike staggering towards us, faces sooty and contrite. Mike was cradling his left hand; it appeared to have been burned.

  “What the fuck happened?” David yelled at them.

  “We were so stupid. I’m so sorry,” Xuân got out between fits of coughing.

  We led them back towards the trailers and got them inside. As we looked them over and tended to Mike’s burned hand, we got th
e whole story. It turns out that they were trying to surprise us by brewing moonshine. They had built a rudimentary still under some wood that they had gathered around the compound. Using grape juice concentrate, water, and yeast, they had created a fruity recipe and had managed to ferment it. However, during the distilling process, something had definitely gone wrong, and there had been an explosion.

  Mike’s burn looks serious, but we put some cream on it and wrapped it as best we could. He is in quite a bit of pain. The insensitive side of me wants to say that he brought it on himself, but no one needs this right now, nor do they deserve it.

  Xuân is okay, just shaken up by the explosion. I don’t know what they were thinking. In fact, I don’t know if they were thinking at all. I am so angry with the two of them at the moment. It could have been so much worse!

  Once we were certain they were going to be fine, David and I went to inspect the site. Luckily, it had just been a small blast. It looked a lot worse than it really was. The fence nearby was intact, and they still had a couple of containers of their concoction. No doubt, they’ll return to test it out again.

  Of all the stupid things to do, they decide to try to be moonshiners? Yeesh. No wonder they didn’t want us to know what was going on.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  My hooch! My hooch! My precious alcoholic baby! I TOLD HIM NOT TO FUCK WITH THE TUBES! HE KILLED JULIUS.

  At least Mike’s okay. We’re lucky it didn’t leave him looking like Two-Face. His hand is a bit crispy, but he’ll be fine. Brutus.

  MY HOOCH. JULIUS!

  I still have the other two. I still have the other two. Pompey and Hank Scorpio will thrive so that they might meet their destiny. In my mouth.

  January 8

  David and I were jolted out of our sleep this morning by the front door slamming. We rushed out of bed and went to check on the children. Ethan and Benjamin were lounging around in bed, but Samantha was nowhere to be found! The two of us hurriedly pulled on some clothes and our parkas, hats, and gloves, and ran for the front door. I saw where she had lowered herself to the ground, but the wind had blown the snow around, obscuring her footprints. David came back inside to tell me that our daughter had left her coat inside, and was likely wandering around in her footy pyjamas in minus fifty-degree weather. We had to find her fast.

  I began looking around and could see no signs of her. David ran next door to sound the alarm and to tell everyone what had happened. Olivia, Xuân, and Dan came to help us search while Mike volunteered to watch the boys and give them their breakfast.

  Olivia and Dan went to check the area by the front gate, while Xuân wanted to check around the cars. David was to check the sheds, while I went look around Xuân and Mike’s still. We all carried walkie-talkies, and I kept getting updates that no sign of her could be found. I was getting very worried. It was so cold out, and she was severely underdressed for the weather. If we didn’t find her soon, she may suffer from hypothermia, or frostbite, or worse.

  I heard Xuân shouting over the walkie-talkie that there was a zombie by the fence and that she had put it down. My heart froze at the thought that my daughter may have encountered something similar. I quickly quashed this fear. I would not allow myself to think like that. My daughter would be fine. We would all be fine.

  I got to the still and peered around inside; she wasn’t there. The place was empty. There was no sign of her. I looked around, and again, saw nothing. I didn’t even see any suspicious piles of snow. I remember crying out of frustration. My daughter was missing!

  My walkie-talkie crackled to life as David called me frantically saying he had found her in the gorals’ shed. I took off at a run to join him. I got there to find Samantha safe in David’s arms, with tears running down her face. Apparently, she wanted to go visit Boba, Doogoo, and Dog and didn’t feel like waiting for us. When she heard us calling for her, she thought she’d get in trouble and hid behind the pile of milking pails.

  I held her in my arms, feeling the snow-soaked pajamas, and feeling her shivering against me. Xuân and Olivia joined us, faces full of relief. They helped wrap her up in a quilt and took her back to our trailer. I boiled some water on the stove and prepared a nice, hot bath for her in the children’s inflatable bathtub, and fed her breakfast. I think that David and I need to start checking the locks on the doors at night. The kids don’t seem to understand the need for coats and boots. We were lucky this time. Now we just need to prevent a next time from happening.

  January 9

  Samantha is showing no ill effects from her adventure the other day. She seems perfectly fine. This morning, I heard her get out of bed, open the door to her bedroom, and walk to the front door. She laughed when she found the door locked, and I crawled to the front of the loft to see her grapple with the new circumstances. She turned and saw me, giving me a big grin. She waved at me and ran to the ladder to climb up and join us. She’s such a silly little girl.

  The day passed by uneventfully. We played, worked on the triplets’ vocabulary, did some art projects, and watched their new favourite movie. I could do with more days like today. No zombie attacks, injuries, illnesses, or missing children—just relaxing family time, good food, and fun. Simply delightful. We had some music with everyone before we went to bed. The kids proclaimed it a dance party and entertained us with their moves. Mike was annoyed with his circumstances. His burned hand did not allow him to play his guitar, and he seemed pretty bummed out about it. Poor guy.

  It’s silly that I fluctuate between being bored and desiring monotony, yet I believe if my choices are boredom, moonshine explosions, or zombie hordes, I’ll take boredom every day.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  After murdering Julius, Mike is out of action. I have to take care of the hooch myself, but David and Dan have stepped up the fence watch with me. I showed them the second border. They think it makes sense. Yes, it’s a bit far away, but it’s sort of an early-ish warning system. They suggested maybe some noise makers, like cans, but not only are we using the cans for other things, the wind can be so strong sometimes that the cans will blow away anyway. In the summer, they will help me dig pits as traps. For zombies, not people.

  The Band Formerly Known as the Triumvirate is going well. No explosions or odd noises.

  January 10

  Mike’s irritation with his injured hand increases daily. He seems severely annoyed with himself for his and Xuân’s misadventures in moonshining. He strives to be useful, but it’s extremely difficult to do anything around here one-handed. He and Olivia have bonded over this, and she is talking to him about how she felt when she dislocated her elbow, and that she has since made a full recovery. He has taken a little bit of comfort in this. The good thing in all of this is that Xuân isn’t even remotely jealous of Olivia and Mike. She never was the type to behave that way, and I’m glad that the close quarters and circumstances out here haven’t changed that about her one bit. I always loved that when other girls behaved in overblown and catty ways with regard to guys, Xuân always eschewed such behaviour, and was completely mellow about her own relationships.

  Samantha has decided she is going to master the art of writing letters. She doesn’t know what they are, just that she likes the way they look. She sits in front of a piece of paper singing the alphabet song and practising her letters O and W, and it’s adorable.

  Xuân wandered off in the direction of the still again. I can’t seem to muster enough annoyance to go out after her. While I may say that I like her laid-back attitude about things, her obsession with the still she and Mike built is a little bit freaky. At this point, I feel if she blows herself up, it’s her own damn fault. Oh well, too bad for her.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  Mike is being a whiny little bitch. I told him not to fiddle around with the tubing. And I told him to stop fucking being a whiny little bitch already!

  He needs a drink. So do I. I think that Pompey and Hank Scorpio are ready.

  January 12

 
It has been three days of Xuân sneaking off to the still with no explosions, fires, or grievous injuries to anyone or anything. Today she spent most of the day there with no meal breaks or any other sign of her.

  Mike was still moping around the place all day, feeling sorry for himself. It was getting ridiculous. I had no patience, and it was all I could do to stop myself from snapping at him to get over himself. I took Sebastian out for a run with the kids and the sled, in spite of the biting cold outside.

  Finally, towards evening, Xuân made her grand reappearance with a large jug of some dubious-looking liquid. She proudly put it down in the centre of the table at which we were all having our supper.

  “It worked!” she proclaimed.

  We could all see her swaying slightly as she stood there, and her speech was audibly slurred.

  “What worked?” Mike asked her.

  “It wasn’t for nuthin’,” she said, “we has booze! Good booze. Try it.”

  “I try?” Benjamin asked me.

  “No,” David told him, which caused him to pout.

  None of us wanted to insult our drunken friend, so we cautiously poured ourselves some into our glasses. We all gingerly sipped the drink and found it was pretty good, if not crazily strong.

  “Is good?” Benjamin asked me, pulling on my shirt.

  “Not for kids,” I told him.

  “But it’s awesome for grownups,” Xuân said. “We did it, Mike! We made drinks!”

  I saw that Mike was notably cheerier after seeing the true fruits of his labours. I understood what my friend had done. She had seen how upset Mike had been, and had set about fixing it as best she could. Good for her.