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?