08:02:12:11:42

I've decided to keep a journal. There's no one else to talk to. No―literally. And I don't mean the “literally” everyone slings around like a teenager who's just learned the versatility of curse words. Literally. There's no one. They all disappeared. It's like they rolled their cars to a stop, turned everything off, and left with nothing but the clothes on their back. I can't put any sense to it. I have no idea why I'm still here. It's nice, though. Sometimes. The quiet is astounding. I never knew I could hear the traffic on the highway miles away until it stopped.

I miss a lot of people. A lot. Except Jerry. No one misses Jerry. At least no one would if they were still around and he was the only one that disappeared. At least I like to think no one would miss him. His mom might. Or his dog. Or maybe his dog hated him just as much as I do. Maybe on the days we weren't working together, Jerry treated his dog like shit instead.

-Stop rambling.

Jerry isn't even here anymore. The world is your playground and still you sit and bitch about some asshole.

My journal is talking back to me.

I guess the quiet is a bit maddening.

08:05:12:01:34

The dates are made up. Mostly because I have no idea when it is. I'm just guessing. I was never good with keeping track of dates to begin with. Then, once everyone was gone, it sort of lost its point. I don't know why I'm even putting them on the page. I guess I just figured that's what you do in a journal.

It's warm outside. The sun is somewhat overhead. So, I'm guessing it's August. In the afternoon. Who could say different? No one. That's who.

It's nice. Sometimes. We've all dreamed of something like this, haven't we? Wished everyone would just go away. But the loneliness is never in your fantasy. The silence. It's like a vast, gorgeous blue ocean. Calm. Peaceful. But the moment you start to enjoy it, the moment you dip your feet in, you swear something slimy is going to swim past your leg or reach up and nibble at your toes. I can't get used to it.

I haven't strayed far from home since everyone left (to where? Who knows?) Everyone but me I guess. I keep expecting them to all be right back where I left them when I wake up, but it's starting to sink in that maybe they won't. And I'm running out of food. Even the electricity hasn't come back on. I held onto that hope a few days too long.

Today I walked up the hill to the All-Mart. Had to walk another half a mile just to find something heavy enough to throw through the glass doors. That's when I started to figure I should probably carry a pack with a few basics inside.

Hatchet, knife, first aid kit. Baseball bat for windows and whatever the silence might spit out someday. Protein bars, crackers, water. I ended up stuffing a duffle bag full of food. That's when I started to figure I should probably have some sort of transportation. Like a bike. Everyone in the movies is always sucking gas through a hose, and I just don't see how that actually works, and at the moment have no need to. Damn near killed myself getting that bike off the rack. I tripped over my bag when I got the bike free and the straddle bar came slamming down into my knees while I was down. Good times.

Hysteria kind of grabbed me at that moment. I think. I laughed because it's all I could do. I laughed until I couldn't see through the tears. I laughed until my ribs cramped. I think it all caught up to me then. The silence―the absence of life. I'm starting to forget what bird-song sounds like. I miss the rolling drone of cicadas in the trees. I miss high fives at work. Riding my shiny new bike down the aisles was good relief. I always wanted to ride a bike through the mall. I guess I could do that now, couldn't I?

I ended up making four trips gathering supplies. Figured out how to rig a wagon to the bike on my second trip. I suppose I could have set up camp inside the All-Mart, but it just isn't home. Plus I can't lock the door I broke out. I kicked over a toothpaste display on my last trip. Halfway out the door I went back and put the thing back together. In case anyone comes back tomorrow.

08:06:12:00:00

Today was a fantastically shitty day. Full gray sky. Drizzle so light you could only see it when you looked at the trees or a black car. Just cool enough for shorts and a shirt, not humid enough to want to take your own skin off. Today marked the first day I've ever worn shorts. They were a well-intentioned gift, buried in the back of my closet. With no one left to see how white my legs are, who cares how white my legs are? Right?

My God how good the wind felt on my legs. The sprinkles were like gentle kisses. I felt Moses leading his people to freedom, parting the khaki ocean. Ok, that's extreme, but the high I got from letting the twigs out was phenomenal.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I was damn sure I was going to be bed-ridden today. After four trips dragging a wagon full of food and supplies from the All-Mart to my apartment, up hill both ways, my legs couldn't even hold me up last night. It was like trying to stand on pool noodles. Expected to be sore for days, actually. Like that time we were playing soccer in high school and all I had were steel-toed boots. This kid, Patrick, thought it'd be funny to pull the ball away from me while I was doing a penalty kick. I dunno if he thought I might trip or what, but the kick meant to send a ball down-field hit him square in the shin. Steel-toed boots and all. We both learned some new swear words that day. Mine came out as apologies, his came out as curses. I knew he took Muay Thai. I thought I was dead. The gym teacher only heard the curses I learned and not his. Two-hundred push-ups was the sentence conveyed. I got to a hundred and broke her mercy threshold. Couldn't bend my elbows all weekend. I looked like C-3PO.

Not a hint of that soreness today. Just a little tension that some basic stretching got rid of and I was off to the races. As a thank you to whatever powers-that-be who let that one slide, I decided to ride my bike in the rain, in shorts. It wasn't a marathon or anything. I just rode up to the bookstore on the hill near All-Mart with my go-pack, (that's what I've taken to calling my smaller bag I use on light excursions as opposed to the duffle and wagon for supply runs―like I've already done a whole lot of this) and picked up a few books. Mostly stuff I feel would help in this situation―a survival book, a book on knots, land-navigation, gardening, first-aid―but probably not.

I say that because here I sit, pen shaking so hard from the shivers I can hardly write. Soaked to the bone and disappointed. In over my head. It gets real cold real quick when you're wet. When it's raining and the wind whispers nearby, breathing the silence. Maybe the wind was telling me I should go home. I should have listened.

By the time I got back, my teeth were chattering enough to cut through spruce. I needed heat. Needed fire. My best idea was to shimmy down to the mail center and snag a hug-full of junk mail. Shook so much on the way back, I left a paper trail right to my door.

Hot damn, I was so excited for the roaring fire I was about to conjure. I felt a bonafide genius. All those episodes of MacGuyver had paid off. I was resourceful. Fistfuls of crumpled paper were stuffed into the fireplace and with the flicking kiss of my bic, they came to life.

My God it was glorious. The flame roared at me. It billowed and filled the fireplace with life. For moments, I feared it would spill out and claim the walls as well. Heat. Radiant heat. And disappointment. Disappointment as the cold wrapped me in its clutches so swiftly once more.

The fire melted up into the chimney just as quickly as it came and all that remained was a mound of ash that would take longer to clean than another fire would last.

I've gathered every blanket in the house and cocooned myself inside. Fever aches are throbbing through my body. I stayed out in the cold and wet too long. I fear everything I read in those books will pale in comparison to actual experience, and I will make too many mistakes along the way. I guess its time to stop being a bitch and find out. My only other choice is to roll over and take it. Not interested.

08:07:12:08:46

I used to stay up until around 3:00 a.m. every night and sleep until noon. I wasn't lazy, I just worked an evening job, and who can just come home and crash? You gotta decompress. Now? It's sun-up to sun-down. Without electricity at night, it's dark enough to scare the devil. I can't do shit at night except read by candle-light. Which I enjoy for the five minutes it lasts. Didn't take long for those something-idian rhythms to catch up to me. Who knows how I emptied a full sleeve of immune booster tablets and a gallon of water in the middle of the night. Only the Shadow, I suppose.

The fever ache was gone today, but I decided to stop tempting the fates and spent the day inside. I did a lot of reading. Worked on some puzzles. Mostly tried to sleep it all off. It was great doing nothing, though. Put away a couple novels I've always wanted to read. Without TVs and computers and phones to distract me, it was enjoyable. What's that thing I heard about the man who reads lives a thousand lives, while the man who doesn't lives only but one?

008:008:008:008:008

Guess what isn't illegal anymore? Only took sneaking into three apartments to find some too. Always wanted to try it, but was too afraid of going to jail. My food stores took a nasty hit today. Next stop: All-Mart. All aboard!! CHOO CHOO!!

Good day.

08:09:12:10:15

I'm afraid to go to sleep because I know that dog will be in my dreams.

I thought it'd be a nice day to take a walk. Satan thought it'd be a nice day to let his dog off the leash. I must be on a lucky streak cus I heard him coming three miles off. I'll never forget the sound of those wicked claws skittering across the pavement. Right down the road like he owned it. Hopping over cars like they were hot wheels.

I stood and stared long enough to mess my pants when I realized I wasn't seeing things. I've never run so fast in my life. Never been so focused, either. I cleaned a fence straight into a pool. No point in dragging Cerberus back home on a scent. I guess he didn't make the connection that it just changed from human to chlorine because I watched out my window for an hour. Not a sign of him. I guess I'll need more than a baseball bat.

08:10:12:09:15

I've been living a lie. My whole life I truly believed I lived in Texas. But I searched fifteen different apartments today and didn't find a single gun. I didn't run into any other dogs either, further solidifying my theory that whatever chased me down yesterday was in fact Satan's hound and a total phantom.

I tell you what, though, stepping into other people's homes, especially without their knowing, does a strange thing to your brain. I almost understand why some people couldn't keep themselves from doing it before they all disappeared.

Good God, some of them smelled so bad. Rotten fruit. The stink of spoiled meat in long dead refrigerators. They weren't all bad, though. I guess guns were all in the rancid apartments, or in those lock boxes I thought were filled with useless greenbacks. Looks like I'm going to have to trek out to the pro-shop tomorrow, armed with the mace I found on a key-chain (with two beanie babies, a whistle, a long loop with ATM all up and down it, and a rabbit's foot) and my bat. And a hatchet. And a knife. Fuck that dog.

08:11:12:06:00

Fuck that fucking dog.