I don’t know. I turned back to look. Like after another traumatic event in my life, a new Xuân had been born there. I wasn’t the me that had arrived here. I was someone new. Yes, it’s cheesy and cliché, but it makes the most sense.
Driving made me a little nuts. My senses were hyped up, always on the alert for a threat now that we were in unknown territory. I used to be able to fall asleep easily in cars, but now my entire body screamed to be on alert!
Mike, sensing that I was just a teensy bit tense, started up a debate on the merits of who has better legs: David Tennant’s Doctor Who or Captain Jack Harkness. They’re probably both zombified now, but I will forever be a Captain Jack devotee. It was a good distraction.
March 23
We reached our checkpoint just before nightfall today. A Corporal Lane showed us to our rooms in an abandoned motel not far from the border between Manitoba and Nunavut. I didn’t even realize there was a town out here needing a motel. Our route is different than the one we took to get to Edehon Lake, but this doesn’t surprise me at all.
We got to our rooms to find plates of hamburgers and french fries waiting for us. I was thrilled. It had been so long since I’d eaten anything like that! However, my stomach revolted against the dinner not too long afterwards. David’s did as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if we all got sick. I suppose months of fresh vegetables, low carbs, and fresh free-range meat makes your stomach unsuited to this kind of eating.
I’m still feeling sick, as is everyone else in our room. This is going to be a long and horrible night. At least the room is clean and warm. We have to be thankful for small favours.
Over dinner, David and I had a long talk. We know that there are zombies, and we know how the virus spreads. It’s clearly transmitted through bites, almost like a mutant strain of rabies. But where did this come from? It’s not as if a zombie virus suddenly fell from the sky. I wonder how this all started.
David surmises that some government agency from the U.S. was probably messing around in a laboratory with some ideas for germ warfare, and their experiment got loose. After all, the first attack we heard about was in Florida.
I don’t think he’s necessarily wrong about this. It just seems too easy to blame some shadowy government organization. For all we know, our antibiotics got so strong that rabies did mutate and grow resistant. Et voila! Zombies.
I don’t think the public will ever know for sure how this all began. I mean, the guy involved in the Florida attack wasn’t even necessarily Patient Zero. We may never even know who Patient Zero truly was. It would just be nice to have answers. I know that answers won’t bring back the people we lost, but it may help to give the survivors some peace of mind.
* * * Xuân * * *
Mother of fuck, tonight reminds me of the first time I got back to Canada after spending a month in Vietnam. The food there was different, totally fresh, straight out of the ground, gotta eat it that day, no fridge.
The army motel had helpfully provided us with a meal of burgers and fries that we fell upon like starving curs.
And just like before, my body revolted at the preservatives and general differentness of Western food. I’m surprised we didn’t break the fucking toilet.
March 24
We didn’t continue on today as we had planned to. I was right, every single one of us was terribly sick last night. One of the army doctors came to see us this morning and asked us what we’d been served for dinner, what our diet had been like on our compound, and then proceeded to yell at the people who’d brought us our food for being complete and utter idiots (although, the word he’d used was “fucktards”).
We all piled into the room David and I were sharing with the children. It was easiest that way. No one wanted to get the kids dressed to go visiting. We talked about the conversation that David and I had had the night before, and Xuân felt that we were being stupid.
“The reasons why this happened don’t mean shit,” she said. “Are you a scientist who’s going to come up with a magical sparkly zombie vaccine? No. So why bother trying to sort it out?”
She’s probably right. Why this happened won’t change the fact that it did happen. I’m just curious. And to be totally blunt: if some government scientist is to blame, I want him strung up by his balls to be a zombie’s piñata.
I’m just cranky today. I tend to be a bitch when I have my head in the toilet. Although I don’t really know anyone who’s nice when they feel this way.
* * * Xuân * * *
Ho hum, another day in the motel. Another day with Master T. Oilet.
March 25
We finally felt well enough to leave today and made very decent progress. We stopped for meals and bathroom breaks and just drove.
The eerie thing was that, aside from army vehicles, we felt like the only cars on the road most of the time. Everything had been cleared away. While our ride to Nunavut was littered with abandoned and destroyed cars, bodies, and zombies, our ride from Nunavut seems to be devoid of these things. It’s almost as if all of that has been erased.
Life goes on, although I hope that the identities of the dead have been recorded somewhere. Their friends and families have a right to know what happened to their people.
When we get back, I need to figure out what happened to my family. We all need to know. I can’t stand this living in limbo. No answers are so much worse than hearing your loved one died. I feel as if the fates I’ve assigned them in my head keep getting worse and worse, the longer this goes on. I just need this to be over. I need closure. I need to know what happened and why Loren stopped calling all of a sudden. I need to know where my parents went, and why they left their basement. People don’t just vanish into thin air. They leave a trace for someone, somewhere, to find. I need to find that. I need to know.
We’re stopped right now for the night. The kids are all asleep in their car seats. I know it’s not the most comfortable way to be, but we’re all too tired to go on and find a motel. I can’t drive another minute without it being horribly unsafe. I am completely drunk with fatigue. Tomorrow, I hope we find a place with real beds for us all.
* * * Xuân * * *
Alexis wonders and hopes who is alive back home.
I just don’t think about it. I think I will go fucking crazy if I do, thinking of those who might or might not have made it. I couldn’t have saved them all; it’s no use wondering. If they lived, they lived. If they didn’t, I’ll track them down to make sure they’re really dead and not zombified.
Just have to keep going.
I’m getting twitchy. I need to…something.
March 26
We’re stopped at a farmhouse that some soldiers directed us towards. It was so strange; we bartered the right to milk Doogoo for shelter for the night. I was wondering how this would all work. From what the farmer and his wife have told us, most of the world seems to have fallen onto some sort of bartering system for now. Computer records have all been wiped out. Some people took advantage of the mass confusion in the world and destroyed the records of the major banks.
My first reaction was to be thrilled. This means that we don’t actually have to pay for the debts we owe for any of our major survival purchases. Then I was worried. All those people who spent their lives working towards their wealth and businesses have lost everything. I’m torn on this one. I guess this is a much simpler time in some ways. In others, things have become much more complicated.
We spent the night under the care of the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. They survived the outbreak living in their farm’s root cellar with her homemade canned and jarred goods. They were a lovely couple who were delighted to see children. They had lost all of their children and grandchildren during the early days.
Ethan was wary about the elderly couple. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of their wrinkled faces and white hair. It had been some time since he had seen anyone looking like this. Benjamin and Samantha were much more accepting and enjoyed playing and singing with the
m.
We will be sorry to leave them in the morning. It was wonderful having a real conversation with someone not in fatigues. But we must carry on to get home.
* * * Xuân * * *
We found some things out about the new world. Apparently, some Fight Club style shit went down and lots of bank and credit card records were destroyed.
Gooooooooooodbye, student loans!
I snuck out of the farmhouse at night. I left everyone sleeping; they were all full and happy. I still think that being full of good food is one of the best feelings in the world. But I felt the need to be outside…
I needed to kill something.
March 27
It was sad saying goodbye to the Johnsons. They were so sweet and so hospitable. They sent us on our way with some of Mrs. Johnson’s homemade strawberry jam. We were told that so long as the seal remains unbroken, we don’t have to worry about refrigeration. I gave them one of my quilted pillows to remember us by.
We drove onwards past many other farmsteads with soldiers lounging under the trees. Around noon, we decided that we had better stop. As we pulled over, I heard loud laughter and yelling. It sounded almost as if some people were having a party. I got out of the car as did David and Dan. Xuân and Mike stayed behind to watch the kids in the van. I don’t know why, but there was something about the laughter that set my teeth on edge.
We approached a farm and saw a cluster of soldiers armed with baseball bats. They were swinging wildly at a figure hanging from a tree, with their fellow soldiers egging them on. As we got closer, we saw that the figure was a zombie hanging from a noose around the neck. It still lived, and as it swung, propelled by the blows from the bats, it reached and grabbed at the men around it, wheezing and hissing at them.
I was completely sickened. I know these men were just blowing off steam, but this repulsed me. The three of us just turned and walked away. I feel ashamed that we didn’t try to stop them or say anything. I don’t even know why I feel that way. Part of me believes that a zombie is not a person, that it would kill us just as we should kill it. However, that body used to be someone. It was once loved. It once had a family, and as such, that body deserves some respect.
We told Xuân and Mike what was happening, and they were as repulsed as we were. We drove on and finally stopped not far from Sand Lakes Provincial Park. We let the triplets run around for a while as we enjoyed the natural beauty around us. The goal for tomorrow is to make it as far as Winnipeg. Usually, it would be another twenty-two-hour drive from Winnipeg to get home. We could probably do it in less time. I certainly hope this is the case.
* * * Xuân * * *
I pretended to be shocked when Alexis told me about some soldiers she saw torturing a zombie. I was certainly horrified, but I wasn’t surprised, after what Mike and I had seen.
I wanted to go back and do something, but Mike pointed out they were soldiers. They would be better armed, and how would it work to go back? Would Mike and I just drive back? We couldn’t leave the group; we might not find each other again and there was strength in numbers. Also, what if the others wanted to come back and help us? Did we really want them to have that kind of burden on their shoulders, like the one we already had? And if I wanted to hoof it back there alone, again, how would I find the group after?
I’m practical and logical, so I understood what he was saying and it made complete sense. We kept going with the others. But it was hard. Fucking unruly privates…or whatever rank they were in soldier-speak. Their jib needs to be cut.
But we would be in Winnipeg soon. I can feel Mike tense as we get closer. He wants to be there, but what is left for him? Really, what is left for any of us?
Oh God, I sound so fucking emo. I wanted to go back and bash those fucking soldiers in the head. Yeah, it may seem hypocritical with my zombie body count, but I killed quickly. There was no torture for amusement and pleasure. It was fast and maybe I am a bit addicted to the adrenaline rush, but it was to release the zombie. It was not for fun.
The thing with Pinkie was different since all other bandits were killed right quick. But really, I would have done the exact same thing to him if the world went all Groundhog Day and I had to repeat that day over and over again for ten thousand years.
Am I fit to rejoin the world? It’s a brave new world, though, and maybe I will survive better in this new world as the new me, rather than going back to old society still changed like this. I don’t even think I make any damned sense anymore.
March 28
We’re in Winnipeg. This was a very strange homecoming for Mike and Dan. We headed to their apartment first to see if there was a place for us to stay, only to find that some squatters had claimed the place.
Our friends were completely denied entry. The three people who were living there claimed to have owned the place for years. They denied the fact that Dan and Mike ever existed. It was completely surreal. We begged them to let us in, just to salvage some of our friends’ belongings, photographs—anything, even. And this request was refused.
Xuân was so angry that as we headed to the elevator. She turned back to see the men watching us to make sure we were actually leaving. She ran up to them, punching a guy in the face, screaming obscenities at him.
I thought for sure that a brawl was going to break out, but Mike ran back and grabbed her, dragging her to the elevator that had arrived.
We ended up spending the night in a hotel in the downtown core. We paid for it in goat milk and information about the other places we’d been through. Turns out the people now running the hotel are cousins of the Johnsons. They were very grateful to hear the couple had survived and are still living on the farm.
Today cemented the fact that there is nothing left here for Mike and Dan. It’s sad to be completely unable to go home. My stomach is in knots fearing something similar will happen in Toronto. We took our title with us, our copy of the sale of our house, our deed, but I don’t think that will bear much weight with a squatter. I don’t want to have to become one of them. I want my house, with my belongings, my children’s nursery, and my crappy garden that I can’t grow anything in. I don’t want to take something from someone else. I want what’s mine.
* * * Xuân * * *
I was caught.
We went back to Mike and Dan’s place in the ‘Peg to see if any of their stuff was still there. These motherfuckers refused to let us in. They were clearly fucking squatting, but said we were the cunt trespassers. If I hadn’t left my gun in the car, I would have damned well killed them all, they made me so angry. Mike just wanted some of his shit, just pictures, records, something! The bastards probably burnt it all or bartered it for meth. We could have taken them all, they were thin and sickly. We could have just barrelled past them, but Alexis wants to observe civil niceties. She didn’t want to bring the army down on us.
Mike stopped me from beating in the head of one of the cowering skinny fuckheads, and we left.
That night, I snuck out with my gun, machete, and crowbar and went back. The dickholes didn’t have any weapons, real ones anyway. Just a board with a nail in it. You’d need a bigger board with a bigger nail to keep me out.
I didn’t kill them. I just beat them until they wished they were dead. Yes, they were squatters. Yes, they had taken anything of potential value and sold it. They had burnt the pictures and books for warmth. Yes, they were all eunuchs. Yes, they were so very sorry.
But there was nothing left for Mike or Dan in this place.
On my way back, some soldiers stopped me, but I showed them the papers Major Pepper had given me and they let me go. Phew.
But Mike was waiting for me when I came back.
“Are they alive?”
Shit. “…Yes.”
“…Are they…did you…do they still have all of their body parts?”
“Yes….” Truly, I didn’t lie. I hadn’t sliced anything OFF, just sort of made cuts. And broke some bones. “I didn’t do anything permanent.”
�
�Why? Why do you have to do this? I thought when we left, you would be okay. You would be like you are when we weren’t out doing sweeps. That kind of cool funky crazy girl.”
I am! I am that! But there are the dual sides of me. Doesn’t anyone realize?
“I don’t know. I don’t know! I can’t stop. I didn’t kill them, I swear, I’ve only killed zombies since we left. I just…they were being so fucking unreasonable! I just want to feel like I have power over something. Everything’s just crazy out of control. I wanted to be able to make you happy with something from your past! I don’t know, I’m just blabbing, I just…I don’t know how to stop. It’s like I’m ‘on’ all the time. I feel like I had to get like this to protect everyone. Alexis kept us all together, all human, but everything has to have some kind of dark side! I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just making fucking excuses, aren’t I? I should leave. I should go. I should just join the fucking army or something or just do my own personal zombie crusade, alone. I don’t think I can be around regular people. I can be that funky girl, but you have to know that there’s the other part of me, too!”
Oh, shit. What the fuck did I say? What the fuck? I’m just an incoherent idiot! None of this shit makes sense! Fuck, can anyone else hear us? I’m not yelling, and he’s not either…
He didn’t say anything. Nothing. He just looked at his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I just can’t do this emotional shit. I don’t know what to do. I don’t get this guy perspective.
Mike sighed. “I just want to be Mike and Xuân…just two normal people, living a safe life. I want to get you away from the crazy, the danger. It just can’t be good for anyone to live like that all the time. I don’t want to have to go out every day to kill something or worry someone is going to kill me or you. I…I just want to be us, together, safe. I know you can handle yourself, that if you got dropped in the middle of an infested city you’d probably get out okay, but there’s more to life than just killing zombies. There needs to be a future. Hope and all that. Isn’t that what you’re doing? Killing to keep everyone safe? Well, you need to keep yourself safe. I need to keep you safe.”
The Bath Salts Journals (Volume 1) Page 15