I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. But, no matter how independent I am, and anyone else who claims the same and says otherwise is lying, it is good to know someone I care about will support me.
The room has about eight people. I’m the only girl. And non-Caucasian person. Everyone else is a Caucasian guy, a lot bigger. Except the twitchy teenager. Geez, every sound makes him jump.
None of us is talking.
I wonder if everyone else in the room wonders about our comparative body counts.
Some officers come in; Pepper is one of them. We read and sign the nondisclosure contracts. Then they tell us the deal.
It was long. Boring. Very detailed.
The gist is pretty much the same as Pepper had already told us. We’re civilians. We were the “protectors” of our groups or lone wolves. We survived, and we’re clearly having trouble adjusting to normal life. I’m reading between the lines, but I’m guessing we’re not the only special survivors they’ve found. We’re probably the ones that cooperated with the army.
They want us to teach anti-zombie self-defence in community centres and schools, with both everyday tools (crowbars, my specialty) and unarmed. Guns were the army’s forte and they would be using them. No army guns for us. I immediately regretted never going to Vegas like I wanted to and shooting machine guns and rocket launchers there.
But the defence classes were the cover. We were really going to be helping to “sanitize” hot zones. The government and army didn’t want people knowing exactly how badly stretched resources already were. Basically, we would be going into zones that, while infested, were not heavily so. These places weren’t high priority for the army to send in the whole shebang, but high enough that they had to be cleaned out. They were usually close to the safe zones. There just weren’t enough regular soldiers to do so. So some enterprising officer came up with the civilian idea. Each team would be headed by a soldier. A handler. Only he got a gun.
We were supposed to tell our friends and family that we were going to teach self-defence at a remote community for a couple of weeks, while we’d really be killing zombies.
We’d get preferential treatment. We’d be paid a bundle. Not that money really mattered anymore anyway. Our communities would get easier access to the remaining doctors, medicines, and hospitals. There would be more money, food, and supplies allotted to our budget, markets, and programs…like theatre. Pepper looked right at me when she said this.
She then smiled and said, “You may have noticed that recently, your markets are fairly well stocked compared to other communities. This is what we’re offering you.”
I couldn’t help it. I had to know. “How many have you lost so far?” Would I come home? Or would I fall, an unknown soldier-civilian, far away?
Pepper hesitated. “The rate is high. We have lost a team or two already, but that was due to lack of training, and those teams had been not been…composed of volunteers.’
So. They had tried this with bandits, who probably turned on their army handlers or each other. I can’t say DUH, hard enough.
Some more unimportant, to me, stuff was mentioned. Like we’d all get basic army training, I think.
I would be killing again. Officially sanctioned. With benefits to my community, my group, my family.
It was what I wanted.
But…
April 5
Tonight was the first night of Passover. We held a Seder in our home. It was the first time any of our friends had been a part of one, and they were keen to be a part of the experience.
A couple of rabbis survived and they’ve taken it upon themselves to make and provide matzah for whoever wants it. We traded for some to have tonight.
It was absolutely beautiful to have everyone sitting around the dining room table, reading from the Haggadah and taking part in the blessings. David, Loren, and I sang all the songs that we could remember from our childhood. Ethan, Benjamin, and Samantha are still too young to learn how to sing the four questions, but they enjoyed listening to them.
I actually managed to find and prepare a brisket with potatoes. It turned out pretty well. We drank the four glasses of wine, opened the door for the Prophet Elijah, and had the children search for the afikomen.
This year, the story of the exodus from Egypt felt especially poignant. So many members of our family are not with us. We all fought so hard to survive and took such risks. Now we are home, and we are teaching our children about their culture and religion. There were so many days I didn’t think this would even be possible.
The auditions are tomorrow, and David showed me the list of people who have signed up to try out. My God! There were names I recognized on that list! There were a few people who are fabulous actors that David had hired a few times to be in his shows from before. I am so happy they’re still alive. This is going to be absolutely fantastic. I can’t wait!
* * * Xuân * * *
“She said I could leave at any time, Mike.”
We were due to leave for the Passover dinner next door. Alexis had thrown her doors open to the neighbourhood and our Sopa de Lima and accompanying tequila were ready. People drink booze at Passover, right?
He’d made it from the recipe I’d left. Limes should have been hard to find. Other people, outside of our community, had marvelled at the food we had in our market and that there was an army medic clinic with a real doctor. We even had a theatre company.
His voice was low. “She’s been manoeuvring you into this.”
Probably. It’s a bit of an ego boost. She’d clearly been the officer who thought up the idea, after meeting me and seeing how cooperative I was with the army. Or, I could be totally wrong. I’m no perfect Mary Sue.
He wasn’t looking at me, just at his hands that he was twisting over and over again. “I don’t like this.”
David chose then to come barging in. “Hey! The kids are wondering where you two are! Come…on?”
He stopped for a second. He could probably feel the tension in the room and see that Mike looked pissed off. “Uhhhh…”
I smiled. I can cover up pretty quick. “Oh hey, we’re on our way! Mike’s just making sure I’m not drinking all the tequila beforehand! Here, check, is the soup too spicy? I think Mike almost burped fire!”
David pronounced the soup fine and we went over to their house.
We stumbled home after, giggly and really, really drunk. I don’t know if Passover is supposed to be celebrated like this, but hey, brave new world!
I hope the sprogs didn’t hear us having loud drunk…uh, happy times in our living room.
I almost didn’t hear him tell me he loved me. After, we passed out on the carpet.
April 6
It was audition day! I was reminded today of why Loren and David didn’t work together before all of this. They don’t really agree on much. So much of today was behind-the-scenes bickering, it was ridiculous. I mean two grown men were sniping at each other like little children. They seriously need to get their acts together if they want this show to work.
However, I doubt we’ll even need callbacks. It’s pretty clear as to who the cast is going to be. Most of the leads are going to be played by the people David knew from before. Loren is in agreement on that at least. It’s the new people they’re having arguments about. Dan and Mike sat for a while; just watching the two men bicker. I think it was the most entertainment they’d had in a while. I’m glad all this amused someone.
Samantha wanted to know why Daddy was so mad. I had to tell her that her uncle frustrated him sometimes. However, they still loved each other very much, and it would all be fine. She laughed and said, “Like Efan.” I said that it was exactly like her brother.
There were gunshots this afternoon. I could tell that they came from down the street. Xuân went to go see what it was all about and came back looking sombre. Apparently, one of our neighbours had been hiding his zombified family in the basement of his home. He couldn’t bear to put them down. Someone
found out, and they told a nearby soldier who went in and shot them all. The man has been taken into custody.
I feel for him. I truly do, but I can’t help but also feel annoyed with him. Keeping zombies like that puts us all at risk. If they had escaped, they could have caused another outbreak. I did not bring my children back here to put them in danger. Sometimes people can be so stupid.
We had the second Seder tonight and invited whoever wanted to come from the neighbourhood. We were full to capacity, and the dinner turned into a giant potluck. We learned many new tunes for all the old songs. Tears were shed and laughter rang out. It was a real coming together of all factions of Judaism and other religions.
Ethan, Benjamin, and Samantha were completely overwhelmed by the number of people in their home. They spent most of the night clinging to my skirt. It was pretty cute, but I don’t think they ate much at all.
* * * Xuân * * *
I woke up to a very angry Crypto. She was mad we had not slept in the bed with her and that we had disrupted her kitty routine by failing to observe her rigidly set out rules. Mike rolled over, said something about melting purple blobs, and kept sleeping. He put his face right into his sneakers.
I’m doing it.
I feel the need to kill zombies, but it’s borne of a need to protect, to care for my family. Both are dual aspects of me.
I realized it last night. There was so much laughter, music, people, and food. A coming together of people and cultures. Everyone was happy and fed. I heard some people say things like “Fresh tomatoes! I’d forgotten how good they could be…” or “I haven’t had lamb in so long.”
Could these things have been because of me? Maybe, even though that’s very egotistical to think. But I can’t really contribute to the community in my current position. I can with the task force.
I’m doing it.
April 7
We have a cast! This is great. The plan is to have a two-week rehearsal period, where they rehearse every day from nine to five. It’s not like we’re doing much else. Tomorrow, I get to take casts of the faces of the witch and the wolf so I can get started making their masks. We have a lot to do. I have already raided my costumes for outfits, and I have things for Rapunzel, the Baker, Baker’s Wife, Cinderella when she’s dirty, Little Red Riding Hood, Jack, and his mother. For the rest, we have acquired permission to go outside of the community to Loren’s house to raid his basement.
I have some reservations about going there. I don’t know if I want to see what’s left of my childhood home. What if my parents did come back? What if they’re zombies? I know I said it was hell not knowing what happened to them. I still do think that, but I don’t need to see my answers first hand.
The children are starting to exhibit some issues now. All that time up in Nunavut has had a lasting effect. Today, we tried to arrange a play date with some of the other children who are living around here. They didn’t know how to relate to them at all. It was horrible watching them. Xuân and I kept trying to coax them to go play, but they seemed to see the children as foreign entities. They only want to be with each other. The whole thing saddened me. I’m thinking that maybe I should take them to these play dates one at a time. However, that may also make things worse. I don’t know what to do. Maybe they just need more time to adjust.
I also discovered that despite the fact that they are all in the same room, that’s not enough for them either. I looked in on them after they went to bed tonight. They all had climbed into Ethan’s bed to be together. There’s a chance that they are still upset after today’s disastrous play date, but maybe they’ve been doing this all along, and I hadn’t noticed. After all, this was how they were sleeping in the cabin, in the trailer, and at all those motels on the way home. They’re used to it. But they can’t do this their whole lives. It’s almost as if they reverted to the way the hospital had them sleep in one incubator for a bit. They said the close proximity would give them strength to grow and develop. I’m so torn on this. I wish my mom was here to talk to for advice. I miss her.
* * * Xuân * * *
He moved downstairs with Dan. I don’t think anyone else knows what’s up.
April 8
It was the first day of rehearsals for our show. The cast was all-a-twitter with nerves and excitement. I saw Justin, who is playing the role of Cinderella’s Prince and the Wolf. We gave each other a huge hug. I remember all the shows he’s done for David in the past. He told me that he never dreamed he’d be able to do this again.
Clara, our witch, also ran up to me with great joy and excitement. The energy in the rehearsal room was infectious. I loved being surrounded by people who had such love for what they were doing. This project is about so much more than just surviving. This is about creating art, and about doing something to bring happiness to people. This was about being human.
I brought the children with me, so they can get used to being around more people, and people they don’t really know. I think this will help them get over their newfound shyness and insecurity. Everyone in the room was so welcoming to them, but the triplets seemed so tentative and unsure. However, once the singing started, they began to relax. Benjamin even got up and started doing a little dance in his spot.
I took some plaster casts of Justin’s and Clara’s faces so I could start to work on the masks. I am thrilled to have a real creative task to do.
Tomorrow, Loren and I are going to go with our army escort to my parents’ house to get the rest of the things we need. I am not looking forward to this. My whole stomach is in knots just thinking about it. I wish someone could go in my place; however, this is about more than just the costumes and props. I want—I need to see what’s left, and maybe even salvage what memories I can from my old childhood home.
April 9
I feel as if today was the longest day of my life.
Loren and I left home early this morning in my SUV with our escort consisting of one army truck and two soldiers: Captain Woslenko and Sergeant Eaton. We drove past a checkpoint telling us we were leaving the safe zone.
Most of the province has been cleared, but the checkpoints are there to keep people on their toes. It is still very possible for rogue zombies to be wandering anywhere, at any time.
We drove down empty streets to my parents’ house. The silence was eerie. I remember times when it would take me nearly an hour to get to their house on streets jammed with traffic. People’s music would be blaring through their closed car windows. Horns would be honking, and people would be shouting into their cell phones. To drive down these same streets and be one of only two cars is deeply unsettling.
Loren and I arrived at the house, and immediately I felt like crying. The once well-manicured lawn was a mess. I saw at least three windows were shattered, and the front door hung open. My brother and I looked at each other, and I saw his pain was the same as mine.
Our two soldier companions got out of their vehicle and did a quick sweep before returning to us and telling us it was safe to proceed. We got out of the car and went inside the house. I walked straight to the basement wanting to get the necessary props and costumes before filling my mind with other issues.
Together, Loren and I scavenged what we needed to dress every character, and fulfil every need in the show. We went back to the soldiers and told them that the main task was completed. They helped us pack everything into the truck and left us alone so we could walk through the house we’d grown up in.
Loren went to his bedroom with an empty backpack, intending to get the rest of his books, clothes, and some sentimental toys and pictures. I went back to the basement to see where my parents had been hiding.
I walked around the room seeing piles of blankets and pillows. I saw where they had slept. I saw where they had taken their meals. However, I saw no evidence of a struggle. I saw no blood, no scratches on the door or on the floorboards. It was as if they had simply vanished without a trace.
I left the room with tears in my eyes and headed to
the family room. I went through the cupboards and shelves there to discover that all our baby albums were gone. I took what childhood photos I could find, and saw that my parents’ wedding album was missing as well. Puzzling over this, I went upstairs to my parents’ bedroom and took what jewellery was left there. I did not want any robbers or unscrupulous people to take things I knew my mother loved.
I soon rejoined my brother on the main floor and we headed back to the car to drive home. As we pulled out of the driveway, I gave the house one last look. I had a feeling that this would be the last time I went inside.
Driving back, I told Loren what I’d noticed.
“We had no photo albums in the basement while I was there with them,” he told me.
“They must have been taken later,” I said. “Those aren’t things people would have broken in to steal. Mom or Dad must have taken them and left.”
“Then there’s still hope,” Loren said.
I looked at him. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was still hope. For the first time in a while, I had that feeling too. I still do. Mom used to say that we were her jewels. If she were running from her home, she would have taken us with her, even if it were only in the form of pictures. Maybe they really are still out there.
* * * Xuân * * *
We did some basic army-type training. I didn’t really get it.
They did tell us we needed “code names” for official reports. I guess if we die, they don’t want our families coming after the army? Or it could be a protection thing. Some crazies think we’re killing their “families.” Their zombied-out family. They might come after us later, whether in court to prosecute us for “murder” or as vigilantes.
The Bath Salts Journals (Volume 1) Page 17