The Bath Salts Journals (Volume 1)

by Alisse Lee Goldenberg

  I am mentally kicking myself for our foolishness over this. We were so careful to stock up on fuel, yet here we felt so safe and we pretty much acted as if there was a gas station on the corner. We are such idiots!

  In other, less migraine-inducing, news, we had another minor run-in with a grey wolf. However, this time our fence was more than adequate protection in keeping the animal out. I had to hold Benjamin back from the fence, as he desperately wanted to “pet the puppy.” He didn’t seem to understand the difference between his dog and the growling fur ball on the other side of the chain-link fence. I would love to be able to get into this kid’s head and understand how he thinks. I don’t get how he can look at a snarling wolf and think “doggy!”

  I’m trying so hard to not be a helicopter parent, but every time one of my kids gets a bloody lip or a bruise, I just want to wrap them up in bubble wrap and keep them indoors. But I can’t do that. Not here. Not now.

  Today was my best friend’s birthday. She was born the day after I was, in the same hospital even. We used to joke about how she and I were destined to be friends forever, right from the beginning. I asked Marilyn to come with us, and she declined. As strong as she was in character, I don’t think she would have lasted long in Toronto with the zombies. I felt it today. I thought I was getting better at ignoring all the loss back home. I know now it was a temporary reprieve. It’s funny how these things sneak up on you.

  I cried today. I haven’t done that in a while. I went into our room and closed the door, but David found me. I told him what was wrong, and he just sat with me for a bit. I felt a little better afterwards. I think I just needed to let it all out. We’re not doing ourselves any good to keep everything bottled up. Eventually, we will all explode if we do that.

  I remember how everyone used to roll their eyes at Mare and me whenever we got together. David used to say that he always knew when she was on the phone because I just stopped making sense. At thirty-years-old, we could still act like small children around each other. We shared a love of cartoons and horror films, of chocolate cake and turkey bacon. We were great coffee addicts, and always had a large pot brewing whenever we got together.

  I love Xuân and Olivia dearly, but they are high school and university friends. There’s something to be said about someone you’ve known since the day after you were born. We marched at each other’s weddings, made speeches at each other’s bat mitzvahs, graduated kindergarten together. She is irreplaceable, and she is gone.

  February 10

  Xuân and I decided that we needed an old-fashioned girls’ night. Personally, I think David told her how down I was feeling. She, Olivia, and I climbed into my bed with the laptop, a bottle of hooch, and a whole pile of disgusting slasher films, and we sat and watched them for hours, laughing and screaming at the gore on the screen. I really needed that. We have been so careful in choosing child-friendly films so the triplets could stay with us that I forgot how much fun a great horror movie could be.

  I am making some plans for David’s birthday, and having the girls around meant I could run everything by them. Tomorrow is going to be great fun. It’s crazy how David, our children, and I were all born within three days of each another, and naturally, in different years.

  Tonight, Xuân and Olivia are going to get the other guys on board, and we are going to knock David’s socks off!

  Earlier today, I got the kids to make their dad birthday cards in their own unique styles. Samantha told me hers read “Happy Birthday Dada. Love you.” It really said, “O W X O Q 2 7.” At least her letters are starting to look legible. She’s two, so I’m giving her a break on her spelling.

  I hope the boys had fun watching the triplets tonight. I didn’t hear any dishes breaking or any screaming, so I’m assuming it went all right out there. No limbs were lost, and no one lost an eye. I’ll consider the evening a success on all counts.

  Once David was sleeping, the women and I grabbed Dan and Mike, and pulled them into the main room. We discussed our plans for tomorrow and worked on them until the early morning when we crept to our rooms to catch what sleep we could. I really should be resting now, but this journal is important to me, and I need to record. It helps me think.

  February 11

  Happy thirty-third birthday, David! We had an entirely indoor day. I have never seen a colder day since…well…ever. I didn’t think it was possible. I ran to the sheds to do the chores, and I ran back. I’d swear we were headed for another ice age.

  However, we were warm and snug in our cabin. We had a roaring fire going in the fireplace, and both electric fireplaces going as well. The kids helped me make birthday cookies for their father, and he requested a simple meal, so we had fish and a nice leafy green salad.

  After dinner, we had the surprise I’d planned. We had made a program, and Olivia, Mike, Dan, and I performed the entire show of Jason Robert Brown’s Songs For a New World, with Xuân as director and stage manager, and the triplets as bonus dancers. I chose this show because it was one we could easily do with four people who liked to perform. I had discovered everyone already knew and loved it, and we didn’t need a set, costumes, or props.

  David has been moaning about how he misses live theatre, so what better gift to give him than a show he knows and loves? He was so touched that we did this for him. I haven’t seen him smile so much in such a long time. He even teared up towards the end of our performance. Our voices weren’t the best, and our direction wasn’t stellar, but our hearts were in the piece, and that definitely shone through.

  He was so touched by our show. I am glad he enjoyed it. We had to do the performance with backing tracks and a karaoke machine. Olivia brought such an array of Broadway karaoke albums. I wonder what show we’ll do next?

  * * * Xuân * * *

  I was out patrolling with Mike and we thought we heard something. I almost wanted to say it was a car, a truck, or some kind of big vehicle. Hell, it could have been a plane. It was big and heavy sounding, but far. We dropped the body we were dragging and raced behind some trees for cover.

  I didn’t hear it again, and neither did he. We didn’t see anything either. It was coming from the direction of the main road. We’re thinking of dragging a big tree across the road to the compound and covering it in snow to make it look like there’s no one down here. However, it would cut off our quick escape route if something happened here.

  But the noise has us tense. I need to make sure our knives are sharp and maybe I should carve out some more pit stakes. And count bullets.

  February 13

  The cold is getting better. There seems to be light at the end of the tunnel. We were actually able to stay outside for longer than a few minutes today. The kids built a snowman (or rather we did, and they laughed at it and decorated it), and we had an impromptu snowball fight in the yard.

  I thought for a moment that I heard a car’s engine, but I quickly shrugged it off as wishful thinking. It has become clear that we are the only people out here. I was the only one who heard it, in spite of everyone’s attempts to figure out what I was listening to.

  I took stock of our supplies for our hydroponics shed. I have some worries. I figure we’ll have enough to last until October, and then what? I suppose we could forage for food when the time comes, but that’s not ideal. Each lightbulb lasts a couple of months and then dies. We can’t recharge them. Mike suggested cutting holes in the roof and creating skylights. We could destroy another car for windows in order to do that. We do have Steve and Bruce’s car for that. It is a possibility. The only other choice is heading back into Manitoba and raiding for more supplies. But we have time until that is the only option. This is the same for our medication and canned foods. Everything is starting to go. We’ll be out of cold medicine and pain pills in a matter of weeks if we keep using them as we are. And this doesn’t even begin to cover the fact that we are also extremely low in things like toilet paper. We ran out of detergent and soap last month, and have been showering with only water.
I thought I would feel gross, and did at first, but now we’re all used to it. I don’t think we smell too bad.

  I never thought that what we had would last forever, but now we have reached the point where we can only use things in extreme emergencies. We have to make our supplies last.

  February 14

  It was Valentine’s Day, and the other couples pretty much spent it in their rooms. David and I spent most of it with the children, and we had a lovely time. We didn’t mind that our friends had made themselves invisible. It gave us time to be a family unit. We took care of all the chores for the others first thing in the morning, and then the rest of the day was ours to do as we pleased.

  There were no flowers, chocolates, or cards, but for once, I didn’t mind. We just hung out with one another, sat in front of the fire, watched movies, and talked. We played games with the kids, drew pictures, and ate together as a family. It was just a nice simple time with each other.

  The missing quartet of people got me thinking about our lives here. If either Xuân or Olivia were to get pregnant, what would we do? How would we feed, clothe, or care for an infant here? If the baby doesn’t latch, we have no formula or breast pump; it would be condemned to starve. What if there were complications during delivery or the pregnancy? We couldn’t cope with these medical issues. Quite frankly, we do not have an infinite supply of prophylactics on hand. I hope they are careful.

  I told David what I was thinking and he laughed at me and told me to stop overanalyzing our friends’ sex lives and the implications thereof. He’s probably right. But I will never tell him that. Not in a million years.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  I think Alexis is worried about running out of condoms. I caught her counting the store of them the other day and checking the number against her supply list. She looked and me and said “Huh. We’re running low on these.” I said “OMG look, I think that’s a bird over there!” and bolted. I don’t have the heart to tell her we used most of them—but not for what she was thinking! Mike came up with genius idea to create some kind of net for fish, but we didn’t have any floaty things that go on nets until I came up with the condom idea. So we blew up some condoms (HAHAHAHAA!), attached them to our makeshift net (I had no idea there were pantyhose shoved in my suitcase, but hey, they came in handy!), and stuck the contraption in the water. Fuck, didn’t work out so great. If the fish pull on the net, the condoms don’t have the weight to remain above water. Crap. Back to the drawing board.

  Damn, my ass has withered away. Mike assures me it’s still fabulously curvy, but I’m sure it’s getting flat. Irrelevant things are important! I wish I could have some serious bacon to bulk up the junk in my trunk.

  February 16

  Standing out in the yard today, I know I heard a car. I am not an expert on engines, but it has to be the same one I heard before. How many vehicles can there be out here? It has been so long since we’ve seen anyone new. The last people we met were Dan and Mike.

  I wonder if that person driving around is friend or foe. I have seen both situations happen, and I do not want a repeat of the bandits. Could they be lost? Maybe they’re coming to tell us it’s safe to go home.

  I didn’t tell anyone about the car I heard when I went back inside. They didn’t hear it the first time, and I feel they think it was maybe a bit of wishful thinking on my part. At first, I believed them. I thought that maybe I did hear the wind and think it was something else. But today, I am convinced that I heard someone driving around the tundra.

  I’m not about to go off and search them out. That would be suicide. I wouldn’t waste our gas supply on such a mission, and I would be absolutely crazy to go out there on foot. Sometimes it’s very hard to pinpoint which direction a sound is coming from, and I don’t really know which way I would have to go to find my mysterious driver. I also don’t know what kind of person he or she is. Therefore, for now, I will have to leave it alone.

  February 17

  I swear there is someone out there. If I’m wrong, then I am surely suffering from full-blown auditory hallucinations.

  Today, I heard gunshots. There were two of them sounding from some distance away. I was not alone and was outside with Xuân when they were heard. However, Xuân was sure that we just heard the ice cracking on the lake. It was an unusually warm day, and I guess that’s a reasonable idea, but considering the car I know I heard, I am certain that someone was firing a weapon.

  I don’t know whether they were hunting, or were shooting at bandits, or even had discovered a frozen zombie, but someone was definitely shooting at somebody or something.

  It is so frustrating being surrounded by people who think you’re losing it. I wish there was some way to prove to them that I’m right. I guess I just need to keep my mouth shut and say nothing the next time I hear a sound.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  I was with Alexis and Olivia today. Alexis was sure she heard gunshots. She’s right, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I said it was probably ice cracking on the lake. I marked the direction the noise came from. I’ll go check it out with Mike. It might have come from the noise we heard before.

  February 19

  Olivia and I sat around today discussing plans for our eventual return home. We are being very optimistic right now. We assume we will have some semblance of a home to go back to.

  “The first thing I would like to do is arrange a performance of some kind,” she said. “I think after all the death and destruction in the world, we need an escape and some fun.”

  “I agree,” I said, “but what show? I think it should be something fun and light-hearted.”

  “So Sweeney Todd, Les Misérables, and Phantom of the Opera are all out,” Olivia replied.

  We went back and forth for a while, discussing and discarding several ideas. Bye Bye Birdie was out because we can’t stand the show. Oliver! only looks good at first, but it’s damned depressing. Neither of us like Oklahoma, because when you actually look at it, it’s about the cool kids driving an outsider to gun violence. Eventually, we decided on either Fiddler on the Roof or Into the Woods. We felt their themes fit with our mood and they don’t require too much by way of special effects. After all, who knows what will have survived in terms of lighting grids and crazy makeups or anything, really.

  I didn’t hear my phantom car or gun today, but I still maintain that we cannot deny that we’re no longer alone. Eventually, whoever is out there will cross our path and I’ll be able to say, “I told you so!” Hopefully, that will come with us meeting a new friend and not burning a new corpse.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  Nothing. There are tire tracks, but I don’t know how old they are. It was warm for a day or two, so there was a thaw, but then it got cold and windy again fairly quickly, so the tracks are icy with a layer of snow and debris. We lost the trail somehow when the tracks disappeared. I think maybe they were blown away by the wind or the tracks went through snow which melted into puddles and then became icy.

  It started getting dark, so we’ll do a more thorough search tomorrow.

  Wonder what’s for dinner. Not burgers, that’s for sure. Fuck, I would love a burger. I used to make the most awesome ground beef and diced bacon burgers.

  February 21

  I don’t even know what to say. I am not laughing, dancing, and saying “I told you so” with any sense of glee. For the first time in months, I am completely terrified of what the future holds for us.

  Olivia and I volunteered to go out hunting to replenish our food supplies. Dan was putting the final touches on our new couches in the main room. The pillows for them are done, and we will have a cozy little seating area for us all when he is finished.

  Olivia and I bundled ourselves up against the cold, closed the gate behind us, and started on our walk, searching through our binoculars and keeping our weapons primed and ready. I couldn’t help but notice that we were headed in the direction I was sure the sounds I’d been hearing were coming from. This made me ver
y edgy with anticipation and nerves. I wanted this mystery solved.

  As we walked, I casually made this observation to Olivia, who laughed at me. She didn’t believe there was anyone else around. On our trek, we managed to bag a couple of rabbits and birds. After a few hours, we were ready to turn back when I spotted what looked like a set of headlights not too far in the distance. I pointed them out to Olivia who agreed with my assessment. We cautiously headed in their direction.

  As we approached, we realized that the headlights belonged to an army truck. We held our guns at the ready, just in case the vehicle’s occupants were less than friendly. The closer we got, the more I got a sick feeling in my stomach. The sides of the truck were streaked with blood. The metal was dented and badly scratched. It looked like it had seen some terrible combat.

  The two of us slowly walked up to the driver’s side door and pulled it open. A man tumbled out at us and we caught him, lowering him gently to the ground. He was wearing fatigues and was covered in blood. It was impossible to tell how much of it was his, and how much of it belonged to someone (or something) else. He was breathing and he had a pulse, so I left him with Olivia as I scouted the rest of the vehicle. There was a man seated in the passenger’s seat with a bullet hole between his eyes. I saw piles of army rations and paper products in the back, and I put what I could into my pack. I made my way back to Olivia, who was sitting on the ground, holding the soldier.