by Maira Dawn
I can't wait for normal.
August 12
Mom came home today.
The twins didn't.
I couldn't ask.
I didn't need to.
August 13
August 14
The power goes on and off at all hours without warning. It only adds to this horror show we're living in. It scares me, and it makes everything so much harder. We have to hurry and get everything done while it’s on. Dad says he’s surprised the electricity was on this long.
No air conditioning is the worst in August. Right now, I sure wish we still lived up north.
We can't have a lot of windows open. It makes Mom crazy to have them open because you can hear people coughing, and Mom is worried about the rest of us getting sick. She's either fussing around like everyone is still here or sitting in her room crying. She thinks I don't hear, but I do.
Dad says it is going to get dangerous because people are getting sick and not going to the hospital. Soon they will be like--
I can't think about that.
Dad bought a gun. Mom was so angry with him. It was the biggest fight I've ever seen them have. She wants to go out to the country, but Dad says it is too late to make it there and where would we go anyway.
The country sounds good to me, and West Virginia is full of countryside. We could find somewhere to go.
August 15
It's like I'm numb on the inside. I know what's happened, but it doesn't seem possible that it happened.
Sometimes I wake up and think everything is normal and then I remember.
Sometimes I wake up crying.
August 16
Nothing happens but bad stuff.
I don't want to write down how many people died today or how many of them I knew. Kids who were my friends, that were my brother's friends or my parent's friends, or babies--like ours.
The news tells us that every day.
Dad doesn't want to watch, but Mom can't stop herself. The regular news guy is dead now, and they have had three other newspeople and now this lady. She'll pry die too. They all will.
We all will.
Kelsey jumped breaking her connection with the story when a bottle clattered onto the pavement and rolled. It was close. Afraid to look, she pulled her feet up and leaned into the pile of junk trying to become one with it. The last time she’d done this, they’d walked right by her.
After a minute or so of silence, she peeked around the stacks of trash. A fluffy black cat widened its green eyes at her. “Oh, Ebony, come here.”
It wasn’t the first time the cat came around, and when Kelsey could she fed it something. She pulled a piece of jerky out of her pocket she’d saved for Ebony and put it in front of her. Ebony immediately aimed for the meat and chewed on it.
Kelsey stroked the cat’s back. “Cats are disgusting when they eat you know.”
Ebony growled at her as she continued attacking the jerky, and Kelsey reminded herself to say nice things to the cat. It’d been a long time since Kelsey last seen Ebony, and she wanted her to stick around. It was lonely without her.
Kelsey waited for the cat to finish eating and picked her up, sitting her on her lap. Ebony stretched, then settled on Kelsey’s lap with a big yawn.
“Good girl,” Kelsey whispered to her as she started reading.
Chapter 10
Breathing
August 17
They were outside last night -- at our doors, at our windows. The Sick. I think I’m going to throw up.
They roam the city now, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. Last night, we made a mistake, a light was left on. Mom says they only want us to help them. Dad says they don't know what they’re doing, but I think they do. I think they want to do to us what that girl did to her mother.
I heard Mom whispering to Dad. She said most start biting, something to do with the rabies virus. Only the fortunate ones don't get like that, the ones that go quick.
It feels like everyone in the city is sick now, and they are coming.
Coming for us.
August 18
The Sick are still here. Dad made a little spot in the attic. If they get in, we can go up there and pull the door up. We can be safe.
They might have enough sense to climb to the second floor, but Dad says they don't have enough sense to pull down the attic access.
August 19
The Sick moved on. Apparently, we didn't entertain them enough, which was just fine with me. I don't like to think of them terrorizing someone else, but maybe I’ll be able to sleep now.
The electric is out most days now.
There's a fire somewhere, it's been raining ash all day. Mom is freaked out about it, worried a fire in the city will get out of control. We don't even know if there’s a fire department anymore.
Now she spends her day going from one window to the next searching for the fire. Dad told her we would see smoke first, but she doesn’t listen.
I'm worried my mom is going mental.
August 20
We had power for a couple of hours today, but there wasn't any real news. There was a guy on there, but he obviously wasn't a real news guy.
He stammered through the news like a drunken 10-year-old. Not that I know what a drunken 10-year-old would be like, but I imagine a lot like he was giving the news report. He even started talking about people from Atlantis.
Sheesh, I could do better than that.
August 21
They're back.
They are louder this time, moaning and shouting. I can't stand the noise. I put my hands over my ears, but I still hear them.
They just don't stop.
August 22
They started banging on the doors and windows. Some are so sick and stiff they don't make much noise, but some are still strong. They pounded on the windows so hard the glass shook with their efforts. My eyes got bigger and bigger as I waited for them to shatter.
Dad had us pack up and go to the attic.
August 23
The Sick still moved around the house this morning, but by this afternoon they were gone so we climbed down the ladder. As mom's foot touched the landing, she sneezed. She sank to the floor and sobbed.
August 24
Mom hasn't sneezed again. I told her it was probably the dust in the attic, but she shook her head. She doesn't believe me. She says she knows, somehow she just knows she's got it.
But she hasn't sneezed again, so I think she is wrong.
I hope she is wrong.
August 25
Dad says we need more food, but we shouldn't walk all the way to the store. The groups of Sick are out there somewhere, and we don't know where. He decided to scavenge at the neighbor's house.
Mom and I were the lookouts. Mom stood on the front porch and looked down the left side of the road, and I watched the right from the living room window. Dad didn’t want me out of the house. At first, I argued with him, but as I looked down the road my sweaty hand clenched the back of the couch.
My heart pounded so hard I was shaking when Dad walked out of our yard into theirs. What if the neighbors were still in their house and are sick? Or don't want to share their food and fight him? Or what it's just bodies in there?
I couldn't stop shaking until he was back home. He got a couple of bags so at least we don't have to go further, but when we sat down to eat their food, it was weird.
It was a sad night. At dinner, we all started remembering the kids. I don't know why, maybe because before dinner was always this loud, chaotic event. Now it is so quiet, just the sound of the forks scraping the side of the cans.
First, Mom started crying, then Dad and finally me. We all sat there and sobbed as we shoveled cold green beans into our mouths.
I miss them so much.
August 26
Mom started coughing this morning, and she hasn't stopped. Dad told me to stay away from her but I told him if everyone else was going to die, I wanted to die too.
He came
over and grabbed me by the arms and said, "You are going to make it. You’re the one who lives."
"And you too Dad! You haven't gotten sick. You'll make it too."
Dad was slow to answer. "Maybe, honey, maybe I will but you for sure."
I started shaking with anger, so I said, "Live for what Dad? And how? If you and Mom aren't here? How am I supposed to do this all by myself? I can't!"
"You can, baby, you're so much stronger than you know."
I kept screaming at him that I couldn't do it until he stopped.
Now, Mom and I are sitting on the couch, my head on her arm like I used to do when I was young, and she is stroking my hair. Her eyes have a faraway look in them as if she's waiting for the AgFlu to take her.
She told Dad if she gets like the others to shoot her. Said it right in front of me. They aren't even trying to hide anything from me anymore.
I hope Mom goes quick. I don't want to see that.
August 27
Someone came to the house today.
Not the Sick.
He said he was from the hospital, that he was here to help people. Dad swung the door open, hoping the man could get relief for Mom. As soon as Dad opened it, the man pushed inside. He had a gun and said he wanted all our money and anything valuable.
Mom started laughing, this loud cackling crazy laugh. I think she just broke. It freaked the man out, and he started waving his gun around.
It all happened so fast. So much blood, so much death, you'd think it would have taken a long time. But it didn't. It didn't take any time at all.
I'm not sure who shot first. I didn't even know Dad had his gun on him. All I know is that when the noise stopped, I was the only one breathing. If what I was doing could have been called breathing.
Gasping, Kelsey looked up from the diary, tear-filled eyes wide and a hand on her heart. She reached under her hair and clothing for a thin, fragile chain and pulled it out, looking at the charm attached to it. Her dad bought this for her days before the first report of the AgFlu. Her slight body shook with sobs as she remembered.
"It's got your name on it, honey,” he’d said, "see, look, Kelsey Lang."
Kelsey kissed the necklace and tucked it back under her protective layers of clothing. She leaned back and looked at the bright blue sky. A few white puffy clouds floated across it. The sky shouldn't be this pretty with all the bad things happening. It should be grey, dull, even raining.
She stroked Ebony and stared at the upward for a few moments telling herself she wouldn't read the rest, it was too sad. But Kelsey knew she was lying to herself, there was no way she could stop now.
Chapter 11
Endings
August 28
I'm in the attic.
The sound of gunshots brought the Sick back. I can hear them out there. Why didn’t we leave for the country? Maybe it would’ve been different there.
I'm so, so scared. I’m shaking, and I can’t stop.
Dad, you were wrong, I can't do this. I just can’t.
August 29
The Sick are gone, but worse was still down there. It’s been two days. Mom and Dad need to be buried.
I forced myself downstairs. Mom, Dad, and the man were sprawled on the living room floor. I could've pretended they were sleeping except for the strange angles of their limbs and the looks on their frozen faces.
I didn't want to touch them, but I couldn't leave them there like that.
It was horrible. I can't -- I just can't –
Even as I pulled them outside, my stomach heaving, I couldn't believe it. It was--is a nightmare. And I can't wake up. I can never wake up.
I wrapped a clean, white sheet around Mom and Dad but not him. I will not do anything kind for him.
I would have buried them, but there's only concrete around here. The small patch of grass we have is as hard as concrete. I know, I tried – really tried -- to dig a hole for them.
After I was done, I went into the house and saw Dad's gun on the floor. I picked it up. I put it to my temple. I thought I could end this misery right here, right now.
But then I remember all the stories of botched suicide jobs people have done. I don't know what I am doing. I could lay here and suffer for days, weeks.
Isn't that what I am doing now?
It could be worse.
It can always be worse.
September 5
The house next door caught fire. I watched the flames as they moved from the far side of the house to the side closest to us, to me. All I thought was that it was kinda pretty. Maybe I’m cracking up too.
I waited until I could feel the heat, then I calmly packed a bag and walked out the door.
Now I'm sitting on the sidewalk across from our house watching it burn as I write this.
I truly have nothing. No family, no friends, no home. I wonder how long I’ve got.
I am alone.
Alone.
I'm sitting here, head in hands, trying to decide if that's good or bad.
Where do I go?
Do I care?
I need to decide. I hear them coming.
September 18
I can't seem to let myself die. I just keep going, and I don't know why.
I walked today.
I just walked around the city.
I found I can evade the Sick.
It is the healthy I have to worry about.
October 7
Today I-
Why am I even writing in you anymore?
I'm done. Signing off.
This is the end of Kelsey Lang's Diary.
Maybe the end of me.
Chapter 12
Never be Alone
Kelsey remembered her disgust and despair the day she flung this diary onto the street like a piece of garbage. Those emotions had stayed with her, haunting her. Disgust over what the world had become, and despair that her life would never be any more than this endless journey around the city.
She flipped through the blank pages at the end of the book and pulled the journal to herself hugging it as if it were one of her lost loved ones. In a way it was, it was all she had left of them. Everything else had burned in the fire. Her fingers tapped the chain around her neck. She had the diary and the necklace.
Her dad had been right. He’d been right about a lot of things. Kelsey had survived. She never got sick, not even one little sneeze. And she’d taken the skills he gave her and built on them, learning where to hide, get food and supplies, and how to stay safe.
Dad would’ve been so proud, so happy. I should be too. But she couldn’t be. There was no place for her in this city. She wasn't sick, and she wasn't a bad person. That was all that was left here.
If only her Dad had taken them out of here, but maybe everything would’ve turned out the same. Maybe he’d been right about that too, and it was too late.
Kelsey raised her dull eyes to the darkening sky.
How long could she last here? She was just a kid. At some point, she would do something wrong, and either the Sick or the others would find her. She wasn't sure which would be worse, but the constant fear was more than she could take. How many times had she started to reveal herself so this would all end? Too many times to count.
Kelsey jerked her head up. She knew all the city's sounds and was aware the instant one was out of place. She tipped her head. This was one she hadn’t heard for a while.
The hum of an engine. A car. A car was coming down the road. Her gaze narrowed as it came closer. A dark-blue SUV slowly swerved around what garbage it could and crunched over everything else. Sometimes the vehicle heaved up over the debris and slammed onto the pavement again.
Kelsey stood transfixed by the sight. It was doubtful it was the Sick, it was probably the others. She should run, but she couldn’t. She could get dad’s gun out of her pocket, but she didn’t.
This is it. Whatever happens here is the end of my story.
Kelsey felt numb as she watched the car come right up besid
e her, and as it continued to pass her by. Sitting in the front passenger's seat, a teenage girl looked directly at Kelsey, and their eyes locked. The girl didn’t look evil like the others.
The girl in the SUV looked puzzled at first before excitedly saying, "Dad! Stop Dad. There's a girl!"
The SUV jerked to a stop. Kelsey sat in the pile of junk, heart pounding, awaiting her fate. Either she would die, or she would be rescued. She wasn't sure it mattered to her anymore. Both ways put her out of her misery.
The teenage girl rolled her window further down. Her clean white-blond hair bounced against her shoulders as she chattered too long and too loud. ”My name is Sabrina Kinder, but my friends call me Bre. This is my Dad, Paul. He’s a doctor. Are you alone? Do you want to come with us? We're leaving. It is just me and Dad now, and we're leaving the city."
In spite of the shock of what she was seeing, and hearing, Kelsey took a small, involuntary step forward. She stared at Bre, then Bre's dad, and back trying to decide if this were real.
Maybe I finally cracked. They look normal and clean, too normal and clean.
Tentatively, Kelsey reached out to touch the side of the vehicle. When her fingers met steel, she gasped and pushed harder. She looked at Bre with wide eyes. They were real.
How long had she been by herself without saying a word to anyone but the cat? After a while, the days and the nights had merged. It could have been one day or one thousand.
Her voice cracked from disuse as she said, "I'm Kelsey. I'm not -- not sick. I've -- I've never been sick. Yes, I'm alone, and I want to leave the city. Please, please let me leave."
With a look of sympathy, Paul pushed open the passenger door and watched Kelsey climb in. "Are there any others? We've heard there are child survivors around here, and we've been looking for them."