"I hate everyone."
"Except me, right?"
"No, especially you."
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It's funny, isn't it? That when the whole world decides to become infected with a brutal and fatal virus, the real monsters are the ones still alive? Blake Finnegan lost most of...
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I HAVE ONLY A WEEK'S LEFT WORTH OF FOOD AND WATER, TWO ROLL ON DEODORANTS, AND MY SLOWLY DECREASING WILL TO STEP OUTSIDE OF THIS STORE LEFT. If I were anyone else, maybe a surge of adrenaline and/or confidence would grant me some magical ability to continue on outside of this worn down building - but unfortunately, as it turns out, I'm not anyone else. I'm just me.
Eventually though, I'll have to stomach it. I'll have to step out of this grocery store and obtain food properly. Surviving off of bagged instant noodles unsure if they're expired or not probably isn't the healthiest way to go about maintaining sustenance. Or drinking rain water that I boil with matches and petrol underneath.
Don't get me wrong. I was going to leave. A good month ago I had a bag packed, a human companion I met on a chance encounter, and a plan. I was ready. Completely ready. Stepped outside of the building and everything.
But then good ol' human companion got chomped on. Like right away. I ran back inside immediately. Cried and had a panic attack. Started breathing normally again. Then remembered the vision of Jana smiling excited to run away to Colorado before a cut up and flesh-worn figure stepped out and ripped out her jugular with its teeth.
She's still out there I think. Maybe turned or dead enough her carcass is left on the ground to rot. A lot of things rot I've realised. Not just the bodies. What's left of civilisation does. Also the produce in this store. I sleep in one of the back rooms furthest away and keep high windows open so I can breathe. But then I'm too busy being paranoid about the fact that the window is open I don't even end up getting much sleep.
When I first came to this grocery store, there were seven people before me. They had survived pretty well - making the store relatively safe. Then they decided it was time to move on. Packed their bags like I once tried to do and left. Haven't seen them since. Didn't see anyone for a while after that. Excluding Jana who had snuck in through a very thin window. But I guess the lack of available food made her thin and crumpled enough to fit.
The first time an escape plan was made I wasn't ready. The second time, with Jana, I was. And now, I'm not again.
So every morning, every day, I wake up on the piles of clothes I've turned into a bed. I lay there tired. And then I walk into the bathroom. Clean myself the best I can with no shower and only a sink. Wash my hair once a week - two times if I have enough rain collected. Slap on some deodorant.
And then do whatever the fuck I want. Limited to the safety of this locked up grocery store.
Which...okay, it could be worse. I could actually have to do stuff. Instead, I draw and write on papers with pens and pencils. Make little forts around the place. Read a bunch of outdated magazines and roll around in the manager's spinny chair.
