The Eleventh of March
So this lady, Allison, is kind of... round. And she came by around lunch time. She leaned in close, and she told me something that she shouldn't have told me.
Allison is sick. And no one knows. Knew. Obviously I know, now. Thing is, she's a diabetic. And I don't fucking know how she's still coherent right now. I don't even remember what diabetes is, to be honest.
What with the mother fucking zombies I'm sorry, Jimmies, out there, I think I can be forgiven for forgetting.
She asked me to look for some extra meds while I'm out with Anatole and Mitchell tonight. I was like, sure. Sure. No problem.
Soon as she was gone, I went straight to our personal doctor, Becca. Told her what Allison told me. Oh, man. Becca. She's a short woman, caps out at around 4'11" or so. Couple inches shorter than me, and very very Chinese. Like, I don't think anyone else really understands her when she talks due to her heavy accent.
She damn well had a conniption. I sidestepped out of her way and let her holler and scream across the fifth floor. Hilarious.
Or, well. I thought it was hilarious. Right up until Dr. Becca came back and told me to keep look out on peels or she kick my ass.
So everyone knows Allison's a diabetic, and now it's my job to scavenge for electronics and meds.
Just. Great.
The Fifth of March
Cory's sick.
He's like. Five. Or four? Something like that. Sneezing like Old Guy Edward, but he's got a fever and he looks a little green around the edges. I know that sounds weird, people don't actually turn green when they get sick, but man. This kid. I don't know.
I don't even like kids. But his constant god damn coughing and sneezing and sniffles make it hard to get some shut-eye.
The Second of March
It snowed a couple of days ago. I didn't say that before, but I'm looking out a window now and it seems kind of important. Plus, I'm free this morning, so I have a little time to write.
I slept straight through, yesterday. No dreams. Felt good, man.
Got some concerns to put up today, before I forget. The heating of the building doesn't work, and it's freezing outside. Some of the others were worried about the kids, but to be honest I think we're all right for now. We all sleep in the same general area, a big living-room of one of the condos on the top floor. We cleared out the other floors and gathered up all the mattresses and blankets, and generally we manage to share enough body heat that we don't need to worry about the heating problem.
Just don't ask about the smell.
Water is a problem, but we've got a few of those brita water filters, and a fire in a different room for boiling water and cooking simple things. When the snow melts, we're going to have to locate a generator, I think. The snow is a blessing in disguise, I think. I don't know how safe it is exactly, but the older guy, John, figures collecting the snow and melting it down/boiling is a good way to fill up our water supplies. We found some of those huge packs of bottled poland spring, but they couldn't keep us forever.
Old guy Edwin's been sneezing a lot. I think he's coming down with something. Gotta keep an eye on him.
Anyway. The sun's coming up. Time to go wake up the next shift.
The Twenty-Eighth of February
I haven't written in a while. I've been keeping busy.
I don't really have an excuse.
My therapist says I should write but I haven't been sleeping well. It's kind of hard to write sometimes.
It doesn't have to be important, he said. So. I don't know.
Um.
Let's try this. Fancy bullet points.
Hah. Bullets.
- twenty people, including me, in one of the ... newer apartment buildings off Queens Blvd
- took out the first and second floor staircases, so... the zombies jimmies have a hard time reaching us, but we have rope at the ready for any live people who need to come up
- I keep watch at night with Anatole and Jacob. Mostly we just walk around on the second floor and make sure anything that's somehow managed to climb up is shot down and thrown out a window
- kids: sara, mathew, cory
- teenagers: sammy, xander, talitha, peter, jose, danielle
- uni students: arnold, me, anatole, jacob
- "adults": mitchell, raymond, allison, becca, jessica, johnathon
- old guy: edwin
Yeah...
I'm supposed to be sleeping. My legs hurt. I'm gonna. I'm gonna go for a walk. Or something.
The Sixteenth of February
I broke into the electronics store across the street and stole this laptop. Wifi is still available, for some reason, but most of the sites aren't loading.
Not that it matters.
I should start from the beginning. My name is Carol Bell. My therapist says I need an outlet for my excess enerergies before I kill someone in this Settlement. There aren't many of us left, maybe twenty people, so the casualty would be considered unnecessary. I'm exaggerating of course. I wouldn't actually kill someone.
Well.
We have enough supplies to last us another three months. I'll see if that applies in three months.
Start from the beginning. Gotta start from the beginning. Okay.
My name is Carol Bell. I was a CUNY student. And then everyone died or got gassed up and crazy, and now there's twenty of us left in this borough and the radio is run out of batteries and when I took this laptop I picked up a couple of CC instead of AA, and no amount of cursing at Duracell will fix my mistake. I'll have to go back tomorrow.
Confused? Okay. This is what happened.
Politics were not my forte. I wasn't paying attention, and now I'm not sure. The websites don't say much, and Wikipedia only works some of the time. It's not really clear who started it first, but there's confirmation that it was a bioweapon of some sort. And we, the yoo ess of ay, pissed off some people and sided with some people that pissed off other people and it kind of all happened at the same time.
But what matters, what I do know, is that someone, or a couple of someones, took a bite out of a contaminated fried chicken in Manhattan Mall, and within the week everyone in New York City got sick and crazy. And they're hungry for brains, but any kind of flesh will do.
Yeah. I know. Don't ask me why or how. We call them Jimmies, because Sean doesn't like the word zombies. But it doesn't change what it is, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around this, and part of me is hoping this is just some kind of bad dream I'll wake up from and maybe I'll forget what my parents looked like when I finally made it home.
Run on sentences. Fucking run on sentences.
Mitchell is coming. It's time for me to watch. Patrol the building. Hope I don't have to shoot rotting people who keep running and screaming unless you shoot them in the head.
I wonder if I can weasel some vending machine chips from the stash. I'm getting kind of hungry.
Testing One Two Three
Nice. A working computer.
If this works I won't have to worry about scavenging up another pen.