Ex-Communication: A Novel (9 page)

I walked for another five hours before I found the car. It’s a Mini Cooper. A red one. Dad said he’d get me one just like it if I graduated with an A average.

It has Arizona license plates. The doors were open. There were no people. No bodies. Dead ones or not-dead ones. I checked under it and in the ditch next to the road. No blood or anything, either. Someone just stopped his car in the middle of the road and wandered away. Or ran away.

There was a duffel bag full of clothes in the backseat. They were men’s clothes, and they were a little too big for me, but it was better than what I had. Jeans, T-shirt, flannel,
socks. I had to roll the cuffs up on the jeans. Whoever owned the Mini wore boxer-briefs, which felt a little funny but comforting after having my ass hanging out all day.

I changed right there next to the car. There wasn’t anyone around for miles, not even exes, but it still felt kind of scary and naughty and sexy. Outside in broad daylight with all my clothes off.

No shoes. I took my one sneaker off my rag-jeans and tied them to the new ones.

I found a bathroom kit in the duffel bag. I wasn’t going to use someone else’s toothbrush, but I figured the toothpaste was better than nothing. There were some eyedrops, which is great because my eyes have been killing me.

There was a whole box of food, too. Lots of cans and some granola bars and bottled water and stuff. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw it. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime yesterday. There was a can of pork and beans and I thought it would be good comfort food. I knew they were something I could eat cold, too. Mom and Dad liked to cook out in the summer and we’d have beans with hot dogs and hamburgers. And then Dad would tell me gross stories about all the stuff in hot dogs.

But the beans had started to go bad and tasted awful. All I could eat was the pork. Which was kind of gross cold but still a lot better than the beans. It doesn’t make sense, the beans going bad before the meat, but a lot of stuff isn’t making sense today. I still ate all of it I could dig out of the can and then brushed my teeth with my finger and some toothpaste.

It was pretty close to sundown by then, so I decided I’d spend the night in the car. I can fold the passenger seat all the way back and use a sweatshirt as a pillow. I’m writing this by moonlight because there’s not even enough power in the battery to turn on the dome light.

Where am I? Where’s Mom?

July 28th, 2009

August 1st, 2009

Dear Diary,

Okay, this is messed up. I sat down tonight to write about all the freaky stuff that happened today. I mean, I woke up in a strange car wearing someone else’s clothes—different
UNDERWEAR
—and that’s not the messed-up thing.

Normally I just flip to the first empty page of my diary and start to write, but tonight I looked back through it and there are three entries that all say it’s July 28th and I don’t remember writing any of them. More to the point, I’m sure
today
is July 28th because
yesterday
was the day Mom and I were going to go meet Dad, the 27th.

I woke up in a red Mini Cooper. I don’t remember falling asleep in it, but the last entry in the diary is about finding a red Mini Cooper with clothes and food in it. Mom wasn’t there but all three entries talk about her vanishing. There was a bloody shirt in the car and there’s one entry about finding a dead woman and taking her shirt—EWWW—and one mentions tossing it for the clothes here in the Mini. There was a half-full can of pork and beans on the side of the road and an entry about eating pork and beans. Well, pork. And the can looked like all beans when I checked it. They smelled bad.

I don’t remember writing any of that. It’s pretty clear in each one I don’t remember the one before it. So if I thought it was the 28th for three days in a row, then today must be the first of August.

Unless there were days I didn’t write in my diary and I can’t remember them, either. But each one seems to begin where the last one ends, even if I didn’t remember it then.

I wonder if I had a head injury. Dad said short-term amnesia’s kind of common with head injuries. I think I’m fine now, and I don’t feel any bumps or blood or anything. Maybe I got knocked out of the car (truck? jeep? They told me the name of it but I don’t remember) and hurt my head and wandered around for a couple of days.

Why didn’t they come get me, though? If I fell out of the car wouldn’t they come back for me? Unless they couldn’t for some reason.

And how did my old clothes get ripped up? Could that happen just from falling out of the car? Maybe if I rolled through some bushes or something? Or crawled out of a car crash?

There was a duffle bag in the Mini. I took out some of the jeans and bigger-cut clothes and filled the empty space with food and water. Was I looting? Stealing? When does it become okay to take other people’s stuff? I couldn’t find any sign of anyone else there. When I first saw the bloody shirt I thought it belonged to the car owner, but my diary says I found it in an SUV miles away.

I spent today heading north, away from the Mini.

There were a couple zombies, but I saw them before they saw me. They’re pretty easy to dodge. I think they need to be in big groups to be dangerous.

I passed a few more cars. They all have different license plates. Arizona. New Mexico. California. Nevada. There aren’t enough of any one type for me to figure out where I am. Some of them have dead people in them. Some of the dead people are moving, but they can’t figure out how to open the doors. They don’t react to me when they’re in the cars. I figured that out pretty quick.

In some of the safe cars I found some more food and water. Some clothes closer to my size. Still no shoes or underwear. I hope this bra holds up because it’s thrashed.

I need to find a new phone or maybe a watch or something. That’ll help me keep track of what day it is. And I need to find Mom.

July
August
1st
2nd, 2009

Dear Diary,

This is going to have to be qui

August
1st
3rd???, 2009

Dear Diary,

Dammit, I know yesterday was the day I found out it was August 1st. I remember it. But there’s another entry. Part of one. I stopped writing and I don’t know why. Did something interrupt me? Did I fall asleep?

I think I have that Memento disease. The special amnesia that guy had. I shouldn’t’ve been making out with Rick all through the movie. And we even skipped back so we’d have more time. First time at second base doesn’t seem quite as important anymore in the big scheme of things.

Should I start writing stuff on my arms like he did? I remember that part. Maybe I should try sleeping with the journal in my lap so I always read it when I wake up.

I woke up in a drainpipe under the road. It was pretty dry. I don’t think it’s rained out here in a while. I was using the duffle bag as a pillow. I had one of those tinfoil space blankets I don’t remember picking up anywhere. There’s nothing in the journal about it, but it says I found cars with stuff in them. Maybe I found it and didn’t write it down.

I found a road sign. It was right above the drainpipe. Now I’m wondering if I might’ve found a bunch of them and just didn’t write them down.

It’s a green shield that says
95
. Interstate 95 is on the East Coast, but I’m not sure where highway 95 is. Maybe there’s more than one? I’m supposed to be in Arizona and every car I’ve seen is from a Southwest state, except for one from Virginia I saw this afternoon. It had a dead family in it—a man and woman and two little boys. They were rotting and dead and I was really glad they had their windows rolled up. Their car was off the road but pointed south.

It still feels like yesterday was the day I was in the car with Mom. Like when you have a long day and you think “Wow, was that only yesterday?” Except for me it wasn’t yesterday and it feels like it was.

I wonder if Mom made it to Dad? I wonder if they’re looking for me. I’ve got to figure out where I am so I can try to find them. Got to be smart, though. Dad always says to think first, think second, and then act third. If I keep heading north I’ll find something I can locate on a map, and then I can figure out how to get where I’m supposed to be.

I need to find a new phone, or a watch, or something. That’ll help me keep track of days and stuff better.

I need to find Mom and Dad. It’s been almost a week. They’re probably worried sick about me.

February 15th, 2010

Dear Diary,

Okay, WTF?! I have no idea how but it’s February. Halfway through February. How did seven months go by and I didn’t know? Yesterday was August
1st
3rd!
I know it was!
I woke up and I remembered to check my diary. I remember writing that page. Today was August 4th. I knew it was the 4th because yesterday was the 3rd. But this watch has hands and a digital readout. The time matches up on them. The date on the digital part says 2-15-2010.

I missed Valentine’s Day. Dammit.

I wonder if I only remember the 3rd because I wrote it down. Maybe I did a lot of stuff yesterday (the real yesterday) and the day before that and the day before that, but I didn’t write them down, so I can’t remember them.

I woke up in the back of a pickup truck. There were some blue quilted blankets in it and a couple tarps, so it was kind of comfy. It had really huge tires—Janice calls them “compensation tires”—so nothing could see into the back if it walked by. It seems like a good place to sleep. I don’t remember finding it and there’s nothing here in the diary about it.

There were a couple
zomb
exes wandering around outside the truck. I ducked down quick and none of them saw me. I opened a can of beef stew and tried to eat. All the potatoes and carrots tasted wrong and slimy, like the beans in the pork and beans. There was a can of P&B in the truck with all the beans left behind.

I remember Dad said the ex-virus did something to the exes to make them last longer. Maybe it’s doing something to the meat, too? But how did it get in the cans? And does that mean I’ve been eating meat filled with virus?!?!

The exes wandered off after an hour or so and I slipped away. I walked north for two hours before I found the watch. It was on an older guy, lying on the side of the road (lying or laying? Honors English student but I can never get that right). He had silver-gray hair and a beard and glasses. His skin was all dried out, but it was still creepy touching him. There’s another journal entry that
says I took a shirt off a dead woman because my clothes were ripped up and I was practically naked.

The watch is this big, gold thing. A retirement watch, I think. It’s like a bracelet on my wrist, even when I make it small. It looks expensive.

February still doesn’t make any sense. Dad said the desert was freezing in the winter. It’s cold, but I don’t think I could’ve been walking around half-naked and with no food for three days. Although it doesn’t feel really cold now. Maybe the date on the watch isn’t right? Do digital watches go fast when they start to run out of power? That doesn’t make sense. Things go slower, right?

My feet hurt and they look bruised. I think I’ve been walking a lot. For a long time. But they’re not cold. Shouldn’t they be cold if it’s really February?

I just had an awful thought. What if it really has been seven months somehow? I was looking back through my diary and the last entry said I was going to keep heading north. But what if I found something and started heading south again? Or east or west? If I didn’t write it down I’d just wake up and head north again. I could’ve been walking back and forth for seven months now!!!

Mom and Dad might think I’m dead!! They don’t know I’m wandering around out here with a head trauma or something!

I’m on top of a Ford Explorer tonight. It’s all locked up tight and there’s a body behind the wheel and another one in the backseat. The one in the backseat is twitching but it can’t smell me, so it isn’t really reacting.

I think there’s a city a couple miles north of here. There’s a big sign another two miles down the road from here. I can’t make out a lot of details. Far away things look hazy, like there’s thin clouds in the air or something. Or maybe it’s me. My eyes hurt like I’ve got a couple cat
hairs stuck under my eyelids or something. I tried rubbing them all morning and it didn’t help. The old guy with the glasses and the watch had a little bottle of eyedrops. They helped a lot, but the far stuff is still hazy.

Can a head injury make you nearsighted?

February 23rd, 2010

Dear Diary,

This is messed up.

I woke up and found a big gold watch on my arm. It said it was February 23rd, which I knew was wrong because yesterday was August 3rd. But then I sat down tonight to write in here and the last entry was dated the 15th. And I read it and I remembered the truck and finding the watch and that was yesterday. I’m sure it was yesterday and I’m only remembering days wrong.

I think this watch might be broken. I read the last entry, but I just can’t believe five days slipped by without me knowing about it. I need another watch. That way I can tell if this one is right or not. A control watch, that’s what Dad would say.

It’d be easy to find a watch in a city, but there’s no sign of that city I mentioned in the last entry. I climbed up on the roof of this big-rig to look for it. I’m back in the middle of the desert again. No sign of any big population centers. No road signs.

I wonder if I should start making a list of cars and trucks. Or just their license plates. I could use them as landmarks so I can tell if I’m doubling back over somewhere I’ve been before.

I wonder if I got into the city, wherever it was, and didn’t have time to write anything. They’re all probably
overrun with exes at this point. I might have just been dodging undead the whole time.

I wonder if I should try to find a gun. Maybe a shotgun or something, or some pistols so I can go all Milla Jovovich on any undead I find. I’ve never fired a gun before. I mean, I’ve played GTA and some Call of Duty, but I don’t think that counts.