An update on my situation

It’s been almost a year: one built of triumph, of failures, and increasingly intermittent internet access. I’m sorry, my ducks, that I haven’t written more.

Let’s see — Gena arrived, safely, following the berry path we planted from the train tracks to the safe house. Which used to be an elementary school, I think? Anyways, it makes me think of Sideways Stories in Wayside School, when everyone got transported to the alternate universe where the school was horizontal instead of vertical. It’s like a big hollow square, with the only windows opening to the enclosed middle. Cold, but in the spring, we’ll have a garden.

I don’t know where my sisters or other nieces are, but I do know that Gena stays up at night, roaming. It’s a leeeeeeetle disconcerting, but she was already a weird kid, so, you know… whatever?

We figure that any other survivors can follow the obviously artificial  and maintained trail, but it’s not something we need to walk about on every week. We don’t THINK they have the brains to follow and track us, but why risk it? Anyways, we’re trying to encourage deer and rabbits and stuff to flourish around here too, as well as whatever human survivors we haven’t discovered. That’s one of the reasons I’m taking a page from Seattle and trying to force this whole area around the school into a food forest. When I go on patrols or raid for supplies, I grab packets of seeds and sprinkle them around. Sometimes it works and when you go back in a few months you see basil or can smell the onions getting crushed under foot. Anyways, articles like this, on gardening like your life depends on it, seem oddly prescient.

Maybe eventually we’ll make a fence — but that way is all Forest of Hands and Teeth, and lord knows I don’t want to think that this world is the only future we have facing us, as a species or family.

Ms. Sprinkles is about somewhere as well, tracking them, and, I think, guarding us. Gena’s told me that she’s seen her, late at night, on the roof, ears perked like she’s a jungle cat, instead of the fluffy little monster we’ve grown to love.

What is this new world? Why… why hadn’t things gone back to normal?


  1. says

    I left my family behind, after a few nights back home since the… library mishap. They are safe; I cached some food away for them, where the rotten ones can’t get at it, since I was able to go out and find it without any fear of being eaten myself. But the changes in me are a bit… worrisome. I think they suspected something had happened out there, but I had only told them that I’d grabbed the wrong flash drive and must have blown the tires driving over a curb or something. Still. After I set up my little laptop for my family to soldier on without me, and assured them that if they made it through hurricane season, the corpses should surely start to break down by then, I left, with only the clothes on my back and my cell phone. I wear it around my neck, so that when I lose myself at night, it’s still there come morning.

    I keep having vivid dreams. Of the forest, and little scuttling things in the dark, and of hunger. And others like me. I suspect I should keep moving north, if there’s no wild game here– I figured out early on, when I stopped eating during the day, so many months ago, that whatever was happening at night was also sustaining me. But if I’m not alone, I have to stay, don’t I? Even if just because I can’t trust myself like this (the cat watches over all of us, and urges me outside at night to join me in the hunt– and, I think, to keep me away from Maria, safely inside), and that there are enough mouths to feed as it is. They need a good, strong fence. Something tall enough to keep me out and off of the trail, if need be, that can’t be blown down easily and with no distractions to lead children to stray.

    None of us can risk it, now.

    • Maria says

      Silly Gena! I’m sure Ms. Sprinkles wouldn’t let you stick around if she really thought you were a danger.

      Trust the cat — she knows things. Without her, you’d’ve never found us… and without her, I’d’ve never found this safe house.

      Plus, I think she’s been eating the mice. :) Good, pretty kitty.

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