Stories in a Lost World: Kristy (2 page)

What I wish for is that things had been fine. My life pre-zombies was a boring one. I went to school, drove home for family events, and worked way too many hours.

What do I have now, though?

Survival.

I have sweat and tears and death.

I have a hungry ache in my belly from never getting enough food.

I have clothes that are too big for me because I’ve lost so much weight.

When the infection first started, I used to be scared of the Infected. I was afraid they’d touch me, that I’d catch what they have. I was afraid that I would turn.

But now that I’ve survived for a little while, I know that there are worse things than turning.

June 10
th

The school we went to today wasn’t very big. I mean, it was no one-room schoolhouse or anything, but still, it wasn’t really what you expect when you heard the word “school.”

It was just a one-story, flat, rectangular building with zombies all around it. By “all around,” I mean there were about 20 we could see. Who knew how many there were that we couldn’t see? Maybe they would be lurking in the shadows. Maybe there would even be little-kid zombies. None of us knew.

The only thing we knew was that we needed to get out of the house and burn off steam. Even Bridget came today. She wanted to check the school nurse’s office for an inhaler and some other first aid supplies. Personally, I think we should try to find a doctor’s office next. They usually have those little prescription samples the companies give them. She could definitely get some good asthma drugs there. Just saying.

Armed with baseball bats, we walked around and killed off the zombies that were mulling around in the parking lot. They’re dumb and slow, so they really aren’t that hard to kill in small numbers. You just swing and hit. Swing and hear the
thud
. The crunch of their skulls, the spurts of their blood, the destruction of their heads. Swing again. And again. And again. Soon they fall, then you swing again, another loud
crunch
. Then it's over.

It's becoming my new normal.

We each killed our five Infected before going inside the school. It took Bridget the longest. I blame her asthma, but maybe I just killed my zombies so quickly because I’m still angry at the world.

Yeah, Danielle killed herself, but I don’t really blame her.

Sometimes I wish we had done it together.

Like I could ever tell anyone, though.

No one would understand. Not even Keith.

Part of me wishes I wasn't such a pussy. Maybe I'm too scared of what comes after to do anything about my pain now. Maybe I'm too afraid that there's nothing else, nothing in the great beyond, nothing but this.

If Danielle had given me the chance to die with her, I would like to think I would have.

But I don't know.

Anyway, the school was empty once we got inside. We were all covered in blood and sweat by the time we got in there. I couldn’t do it so I took my clothes off and just walked around in my underwear. Keith told me that was stupid. He said a zombie was going to jump out and without even the thin fabric barrier, I’d definitely get bitten.

“I’m not wearing their blood,” I told him. Then that was that. When we found the teacher’s lounge, I found a man’s button-down shirt and I put it on. It came down to my thighs, giving me a little bit of modesty. “Happy now?” I asked Keith, but he didn’t think it was funny.

We walked in pairs through the school, seeing if there was anything worth taking. We managed to find batteries and some snacks. I couldn’t believe how many teachers kept chocolate bars in their desks, but heck yes, I will take them. In the principal’s office, we found a bottle of scotch. Yeah. Took that, too.

Bridget managed to get her inhaler needs met in the nurse’s office. She found three inhalers, which will last her a long time. We also found some pain medication (nothing prescription, but whatever) and some bottles of water.

We didn’t stay long. We were pretty quiet when we killed the zombies, but anyone could have heard. We all know there are plenty of survivors out there. Sometimes we see signs of them, whether it be litter on the ground that wasn’t there before or gang signs or just find a random dead Infected. That’s always the creepiest for me: finding a dead zombie that I didn’t kill.

But even though there are other survivors, this doesn’t mean we want to attract attention to ourselves. If there’s one thing to know about the apocalypse, it’s that you really can’t trust anyone outside your group. Sometimes you can’t even trust people who
are
inside your group, but most of the time, it’s just the outsiders.

I remember going to church as a kid and hearing that you should always help people in need. It’s hard to shed that idea. When the infection first started, so many people were reaching out to others, trying to help. Most of those people are dead.

The world is different now. You can’t do that unless you want to die. Helping someone is usually about the same as sacrificing yourself for them, so you’d better be
really
sure. Are they worth dying for? Are they worth
coming back
for? Do you really want to roam around as a zombie?

I don’t.

When we got back to the house, none of us really spoke. The gas tank is on “E.” We won’t be going out again without a new car. I have a feeling that’s going to be our next excursion.

June 11
th

Last night, after I finished writing, Keith came into the room and got into bed without a word. I was still wearing the button-down from the school. I took it off and climbed under the blankets with him. We just held each other for a long time until we both fell asleep.

Sometimes I don’t know what I would do without him.

He’s my anchor.

June 12
th

The first green shoots in our garden appeared! It was celebrating all around. We shared the scotch we found in the principal’s office at the school the other day. It burned the whole way down, but damn, was it perfect.

None of us has ever planted much before. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Bridget usually comes out and weeds, but today I was happy to help her. It gave me something mindless to do, something to focus my energy on besides running.

Weeding in and of itself isn't difficult. The hard part is figuring out which shoots are the good ones, the ones that we planted, and which ones are the weeds. I'm guessing things will be easier next year. They have to be, right?

Now that we've got some food growing, it's time for us to focus more on finding fresh sources of food. When winter comes, we won't be growing, and there aren't exactly trucks coming to load up our local grocery store. Winters in Kansas aren't horrible, but they aren't easy, either.

We need to start stocking up.

We made a plan to start going out a few times a week. We'll go in pairs of two. Whoever stays behind can have garden duty and water-hauling duty. Whoever goes will find as much as they can. Our first problem, though, is going to be finding a car with gas in it. As it is, there are still a few houses within walking distance, I'd guess, so we're going to start there.

Tomorrow it's me and Keith.

Just the two of us.

What could possibly go wrong?

June 13
th

We're alive.

Maybe barely, but we're alive.

When the infection came, I was surprised just how smelly people are in real life. When you strip away the deodorant, the perfume, the body wash, and the societal expectations of cleanliness, people are downright nasty.

Living with two other girls for months was really gross. I won't get into details, but just suffice it to say that girls need their showers. Frequently. Especially during their "special time" each month. I always thought that my roommates were pretty gross, and yes, I say that knowing full well that I smell just as bad as they did.

None of that compares to the undead.

Or to the dead.

I told Keith that I'm beginning to think I can smell the zombies before I hear them or see them. Is that even possible? Is that even a thing? He didn’t seem to think I was crazy. He just sort of nodded, like he understood.

Keith is a man of few words, but I don’t care. It’s not like there’s anything to say. When I used to date, we’d always spend the first few get-togethers learning about each other. Where did you grow up? What is your major? What do you like to do? Do your parents live nearby?

Now the questions are different. Who was the first person you lost? Have you killed any of your friends who turned? Can you shoot? How much food do you have?

And, perhaps the most important, do you have a condom?

Nobody wants apocalypse babies. Just saying.

Keith and I set out this morning with the intention of finding a new car. We didn’t bother taking the one we have. There’s a tiny bit of gas left. Honestly, it’s probably just fumes, but we’re keeping it “just in case.” In case something happens and we
can’t
find another mode of transportation, it’s best to have something we can make a quick escape in.

The thing that worries me is other survivors. Keith and Paul don’t care too much, but they’re big. Even with the starvation, they’re both very tall and very muscular. Bridget and I are not. I’m worried someone will find our little farmhouse, come inside, and rape or kill us. Maybe both. That’s what scares me. I brought this up and Bridget agreed, so we decided to keep the car. If someone shows up unannounced and for some reason, we can’t take them, we’ll at least be able to get away, at least for a little bit.