Today, 15th October, '17
The end never came and I lost track of just how long I had been waiting for it. The skies provide me with no clues as to what time of the day it is. They’re still just burning with orange clouds and violent winds. I think it’s daytime again, but I couldn’t say for sure. I somehow managed to fall asleep in the tent before, probably just out of pure exhaustion. It lasted either five minutes or three days, my body couldn’t tell either way. I still hurt all over and the bit of sleep only made things even achier. I knew that I couldn’t just sit there forever; Dad wouldn’t have wanted that. So after getting the courage to pull myself up off the floor and back through the tent flaps, I ended up sneaking back out of the compound through the way I came in. I didn’t notice it at first, but there wasn’t any sound of those…things flying around like there had been before. In fact, there wasn’t really much sound at all other than the gusts of wind strong enough to knock branches from the trees. It didn’t strike me as odd really, because I was more focused on thinking about where I was even going to go. I don’t know if there are any groups of people still together or if everything and everyone was lost now. Even though I couldn’t hear those things flying around as I was going, I knew that they had to be someplace. I didn’t want to spend a whole lot of time on the street or even in town, because I figured that is where they’d be hiding out at. If they were eating people, what better place to find your meal than a city? I think it was around that time, dodging pieces of glass and garbage in the street, that I had the idea of heading out into the forest. We had a surprisingly large wooded area surrounding the actual city, for as close to Seattle as my town was, and it was probably safer now. That was my thinking anyway, so that’s what I ended up doing. But I knew that I couldn’t just go into the forest and survive without some kind of supplies. I had no time and wasn’t in my right state of mind to take anything from the camp. All I had with me was a small backpack, a thing of water, Band-Aids on my knees, and this diary. Not exactly the essentials or the key to my survival. There was a general sense of direction that I was following, as I knew that it would be the smartest to find the river and stick to that. That would be a good source of water and fish, if they weren’t mutant beasts by now too. At some point I came across a gas station that was the last thing on that road for what looked to be a good while. The front windows had mostly been smashed out and there were a few cars that had been abandoned at the pumps. When things first started to get bad, people went nuts and just began stealing and breaking things. I thought I recognized that place and realized that it was the same gas station that we’d stop at before we went out hunting. Food and water were the two things that I knew I would need to grab, but there wasn’t actually much of either left in the store once I got inside. I managed to find some children’s fruit juice bottles and some gross looking cans of mini-wieners. I had high hopes of finding a bigger bag or something to carry more with me, but had no luck. I did grab one of those paper maps that nobody ever buys anymore, so I’d at least have some clue as to where I was going. So I just stuffed as much of that stuff as I could into my backpack and started my walk down the highway towards the direction that I knew the river was. The wind wasn’t making the walk any easier and seemed to always be blowing the direction opposite of where I was going. My hair kept getting into my eyes and I felt like quitting a bunch of times along the way, but I managed to tough it out and keep going. I didn’t see a point in quitting now, because what was there left to quit? But man, my hair was really annoying me. Somewhere along the way, I saw a car that had crashed into the guardrail and left sitting. I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to have a look around and see if maybe I could find something useful inside of it. It still feels strange to take other people’s things, but I didn’t think they’d be coming back for any of it any time soon. I popped the trunk and found a bunch of different clothes that looked to be from a family who had just hastily grabbed whatever they could on their way out of the city. I didn’t want to think about the family, since it just reminded me of my own. I had enough dirt smudges on my face from crying and couldn’t handle much more. But some of the clothes belonged to a little kid and seeing those just made me want to break down again. I managed to grab a pair of jeans that probably belonged to the mother and wouldn’t fit me that great, but it was going to be cold again at night and I needed something other than my shorts. I also found a baby blanket that looked as though it had been washed recently and took that too. Before heading back off on my trek, I took the blanket and folded it so that I could wear it as kind of a hood. It wasn’t the ideal thing to use, but it did the job of getting my hair from blinding me in the crazy wind. That was the first good thing that I managed to do all day, which was a nice little win. If I had found a pair of scissors, I may have just chopped it all off. I’m not sure where I am at right now. I stopped for a water break and figured I’d take the time to write an update in my diary. I can’t stop writing; it’s all I’ve got left from before. My feet are killing me and my lungs hurt from breathing in too much dust, but I’ve got to keep going. According to the map, I’m probably somewhere close to the river. But I haven’t noticed any signs for it from the road just yet. It really makes you take for granted how convenient cars are when you’ve got to walk somewhere. That small little distance on a map suddenly ends up taking hours. Maybe I should have taken a car from town too. No, that would have made too much noise. Those things are probably out here somewhere, just waiting for me to pass out from exhaustion so they can pick my bones apart. Anyway, so yeah, I have to keep writing and walking. Better get back to it…I like my bones the way they are.
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Moira Mardas16. Washington. Survivor. This is my personal diary. I have to write to remember. Archives: Start in July for begining of story.
June 2020
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