Made it back to my apartment. I never ran so fast in my life. Made it to the glass doors of my building, scanned in, and could feel them closing their rotting fingers around my neck. I swear I could feel them. But the glass held, I got through the second set of doors, and then boom! Empty lobby. But I gotta decide: am I staying here? There are a few other stragglers. The Israeli couple on 4 has banded together with a couple of the seniors on 3, and they’re gradually moving themselves and their pets, kids, and grandkids to the 12th floor. Bruh Man from the 5th floor has been helping me learn to climb fire escapes, and sometimes we raid empty apartments for supplies.
Ms. Sprinkles snuggles me at night. Her eyes are oddly knowing, and I notice that she’s more suspicious of the other pets in the building than I am of the people. Before coming to bed, she patrols the edges of our room, sniffing the walls and hissing at any yowls she hears in response. One came from right outside our door — she fluffed out, growling, and bigger than I’ve ever seen her. Whatever walks the halls at night backed down. But I don’t think we can stay here long.
I’m not sure what we’ll do when the building as a whole runs out of food. It’ll happen eventually. The band of survivors I’ve befriended thinks that order will be restored by then, and that all we have to do is ration the canned goods we’ve been scavenging, and we’ll be fine. But I don’t know — I feel almost as though there’s more changing than we know, like it’s not just the zombies and other survivors we’ve got to watch out for.
I don’t know if that’s true. But I also don’t have a better plan. We — I — have to decide, though. At night the dead claw at the bricks.
If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be trapped.
Patrick warned us about another threat:
But as Sylvia Sybil reminds us, there’s still joy out there.
ETA: Welcome to Blog Like It’s the Apocalypse 2011!