The Dystopian Diaries

by K. W. Callahan

  Madeline answered my question regarding the proximity of her camp location with a “Not really.” I have to assume she was probably lying. I don’t think people walk miles to the back of the Woodcrest Recreation Club just to do their dirty dishes in a lake. But I let the subject go for the time being. She doesn’t know me from boo, so I can’t blame her for not wanting to divulge the location of her camp.

  “Just you out here?” I pressed.

  But she didn’t answer my question, simply saying that she needed to go.

  Again, I can’t blame her. If she said “Yes, I’m here all by my lonesome”, she’d be divulging that she was a lone woman out in the deep dark forest to a strange man lurking there awaiting her arrival. Probably not the best idea considering that she had no idea what my intentions were. And if she had said there were others with her, she could potentially be putting them in harm’s way.

  So I switched tactics by quickly asking her as she turned to leave whether she’d had any word about what was going on in the town of Woodcrest, Chicago, or anywhere else for that matter.

  Again, her answer was a brief and to the point, “Not really.”

  And then, as quickly as she’d come, she was gone.

  I didn’t try to follow her. I was worried she might feel threatened if I did. But in a way, I hope she comes back. The problem is, if she does, do I try to make contact again, or do I just leave things alone?

  Her camp must be reasonably close even though she said it wasn’t. And while I don’t want to sound sexist, I find it hard to imagine that a woman her age would be way out here alone, although I guess it’s a possibility. I’d certainly prefer it that way. But I’d put the odds fairly high that at least one other person – probably a guy – is out here with her. And that could be a problem, especially if he becomes territorial. I’m not too worried about another guy talking to Miles. But if I try talking to Madeline again, this dude (assuming there is one) might think I’m stalking his woman. And that could be big trouble.

  Guess I’ll just sit back and take it day by day as I’ve been taking most things lately.

  9:57 p.m.

  Well, it’s almost ten o’clock and there has been no light by the lake yet. Looks like I’ve scared off my only other human companion out here. Great…just great. I was kind of looking forward to having someone else to talk to even if it was only once a day. Guess I’ll just have to be happy with Miles.

  September 21st

  11:09 a.m.

  It was an early fish n’ chips lunch for me today. Weather is mild – I’d say close to 70 degrees. After I woke up this morning, I made another trek to the club entrance to retrieve more of my personal soda/water stash.

  I’ve decided to take a few of my trash bags and make some hidden food caches in the forest around my camp. I thought it would be a good idea to sort of hedge my bets. Now that I know I’m not out here alone, by creating these stashes, if someone should raid my camp when I’m not here, I’m at least protecting myself against losing everything.

  I’ve also taken to carrying a loaded weapon on me at all times. It’s not something I ever thought I would do, but then again, the Su flu apocalypse is not anything I ever thought I would be living through either.

  So back to my food stashes. Here’s where I put them:

  Within the clump of bushes at the south end of the tailings pile that is my camp.

  Tied within the large pine near my fishing spot (it’s hardly visible the pine is so dense).

  Buried beneath the large flat rock near where I parked my car.

  Within the cattails bordering the north side of the lake.

  Inside one end of the large felled tree close to the south end of the lake.

  There! Now I don’t have to worry about forgetting where I put all this stuff – I’m not a squirrel you know.

  These little stashes aren’t large mind you. They consist of just enough food and water (or soda) to keep me and Miles going for a couple days. They’re mostly just last-ditch reserves in the event of a worst-case scenario or should my food supply here at camp, which is holding out okay for the moment, run dry.

  4:27 p.m.

  I’ve been thinking a lot about Madeline lately. Where does she live? Who does she live with? Will I ever see her again?

  Maybe she has moved on. Maybe she was only passing through, here for a couple nights, and then on her way. I feel like going out and searching the area on the other side of the lake, but I don’t want to stumble into anything. Although maybe that would be for the best. Better me stumbling upon them than vice versa, right? Maybe not. I don’t know. I don’t want to get myself shot by wandering into someone else’s camp. I know I wouldn’t be too pleased if strangers came blundering into mine. Or would I? Maybe that would be nice. It’d save me all the time and trouble that goes into making the decision myself. And who knows, maybe they’d be good people. It’s so damn hard to say.

  Screw it!

  Tomorrow I’m going over there! I’ll take it slow and just feel things out. I just need to know.

  September 22nd

  7:58 a.m.

  I’m eating breakfast in my tent with Miles this morning. It’s cold, raining, and the sky is a blanket of gray.

  During a brief break in the storm, I took Miles out to pee. I draped one of my jackets over him when we went just to keep the continued light drizzle from saturating his thick fur. I HATE the smell of wet dog. It’s bad enough at home in the apartment, let alone when you’re trapped inside a tent with it.

  So of course, the day I set my mind to finally reaching out to other people, and it rains. Maybe it will clear by this afternoon or tonight. I wouldn’t think it would take me more than an hour to hike around the lake and conduct my inspection.

  12:21 p.m.

  Still raining! Guess I’m glad I brought a couple books with me. There wasn’t a lot of room in the car for extras considering all the supplies I hauled with me out here, but I managed to toss a few of my favorites in. I’m working on Robinson Crusoe right now. I thought it a fitting choice considering my situation here.

  Miles is crashed out next to me. He’s been sleeping pretty much the whole day. If I do go on my hike later, I might have to take him along just to air him out a bit.

  The rain has cooled things off dramatically. I’d say it’s only about 60 degrees at best, although it might only be in the upper 50s. I’m hunkered in my sleeping bag, munching on chips and granola, reading my book. I feel very unproductive. But what else am I supposed to do?

  My campfire is completely out. It weathered the rain for the first few hours, but it finally gave up the ghost at around 9:30 or so. There might still be a few hot embers buried way down beneath the ash. I covered the bulk of my firewood here at camp with a plastic tarp to keep it dry, so I should be good to go rekindling the fire once the rain lets up – IF it ever lets up.

  6:32 p.m.

  What a wasted day! No firewood collection. No trips to bring more drinks back to camp from my stash. No fishing. No nothing but laying here reading and popping outside the tent occasionally for me and Miles to relieve ourselves.

  BORING!!!

  September 23rd

  6:57 a.m.

  As soon as it was light enough to see, and after Miles and I did our things outside, I decided to do a little writing. The rain has stopped, but it is still chilly.

  I’d say that it’s 50 degrees at best. I was cold last night in the tent. Thank god for Miles. I scooted up beside the old chubster for some extra warmth.

  Now everything around camp is soaked from the rain. I can’t even sit down because all my chairs are wet. I’d say that this is the first time since I’ve been here that I’m not enjoying outdoor living. And it’s pushed me to make some tough decisions.

  First off, pending any more rain, I’m going to search the other side of the lake today to find out once and for all who – if anyone – is living over there. Second, I need to consider making a trip into town. Fall is coming, and after last n
ight, I’m starting to realize that there is no way I’m going to be able to make it out here in a tent come winter. I need to learn what the situation outside the club is and see if there are any groups in town that might have established some sense of normalcy. I’ve played Thoreau out here long enough. And I think I’ve given things enough time to blow over out in the real world. It’s time to find out what’s going on out there.

  But first, I have lots to do around camp today. I need to restart my campfire. I need to make sure all my most important supplies are dry. I need to do some fishing. And later this afternoon is when I’d like to take a walk and better inspect the area on the other side of the lake. If I happen to stumble upon Madeline or her camp while I’m there, so be it. It’s not like it’s her private property over there. I’m not looking for trouble or anything – far from it in fact. But come on! We’re ALL trespassers here! And I need to find out what the heck is going on.

  So I guess I’d better shut up, stop writing, and get to it. The cold air must be motivating me. It’s that feeling of fall that sends the squirrels out foraging to stock up for winter, and it’s doing the same to me. Nature at its best!

  5:17 p.m.

  Wow! Busy day! Busy but good.

  It took me a little while, but the campfire is going good now, cooking the single fish I caught today. But it was a big fish, so that’s okay.

  Earlier this afternoon, after I went fishing, I took a walk to the other side of the lake. I roamed around for a while, just kind of meandering. I’d amble about, listening for the signs of other people, but I didn’t have much luck…at least at first. Eventually, after about half an hour of such wandering, I found the remnants of a campsite. There was a fire pit ringed with stones. There were several tree trunks pulled up close to the fire pit. There was a bare spot where I’m assuming a tent was pitched. And after some searching, I found several bags of garbage about 50 yards from the camp. There were also tire tracks running through the forest that I followed for about a quarter mile until they met up with one of the club’s roads.

  I don’t know if the camp was Madeline’s or not. I’m assuming it was, although I couldn’t tell if anyone else might have been with her. As disgusting as it might sound, I went through several of the garbage bags to look for clues, but I didn’t find anything that would clarify who or how many people had been camped there.

  I wonder where they went. Do they know something I don’t? Did the government give the all clear that things were okay to return to the city or that there is some sort of safe zone established?

  I tried my radio when I got back to camp and didn’t pick anything up, but maybe they’re transmitting on a frequency I don’t get. What frequencies do HAMM radios use? I have no clue, and considering I don’t have the internet at my disposal, I have no way of finding out.

  But I’m definitely thinking it’s time I get a better picture of what is going on outside the club. Problem is, the town of Woodcrest is miles away, and I don’t want to drive. Driving my car would expose me far more than walking would, and I’m not sure I’d even have enough gas to make it to town and back. Wish I had a horse. But horses eat a lot (almost as much as Miles), so that probably wouldn’t be good. I’d have to tie it up out in the field on the approach to camp. Talk about waving a big red flag that I’m out here. And considering the fact that I haven’t been on a horse since I was a kid, and I’ve never ridden one on my own, I’m probably better off keeping my own two feet on the ground.

  Therefore, I figure on walking to town. With the hike from my camp to the front of the club added on, it will take me the better part of a day to get there, so I’ll probably have to spend the night. And that means I’ll have to take Miles along. I considered leaving him tied up here at camp, but I’m not comfortable leaving him out alone all night. He might be fine, but I’m not willing to chance it.

  I guess I’ll pack a couple days’ worth of food for my trip, just to be on the safe side in case I get held up along the way. I’m not sure whether I’ll take my tent. It might prove more trouble than it’s worth…unless it rains. God, I wish I knew the 7-day forecast. I’ll put most of the food I don’t take with me inside my car while I’m away to ensure the raccoons or other scavengers don’t get into it.

  Tomorrow will be pack day if everything goes to plan. And weather pending, the following day I’ll make my trek into Woodcrest. I really don’t want to go back after what happened to me when I was there last time, but I’m starting to feel like I don’t have a choice.

  September 24th

  11:23 a.m.

  Okay, I have a pack all set with enough food and water for me and Miles for at least three days, maybe four if I really stretch it. I also have my gun (loaded), half the box of spare ammo in a plastic baggie, and my sleeping bag. Paired with Miles’ body heat, it will have to be enough since I don’t want to lug my whole tent along.

  I put a bunch of food in several packs, and will haul them along with my tent up into a tree a good ways from camp just so they are safe when I leave. I put more food inside my car, just to spread things out a bit so that all my eggs aren’t in one basket. Although I have to say, I feel slightly better now that I’ve investigated the other side of the lake and found it devoid of campers. As much as I yearn for some human companionship, it’s kind of nice knowing that I’m out here alone.

  I will dress in layers for my trip since I have no idea just how cold it might get at night. I’d say it’s only in the 50s today and overcast. There is definitely a chill in the air. Hopefully I’ll be able to find an abandoned house or something to sleep in along my route to town.

  I was thinking about shaving today, something I haven’t done since arriving to the club. I have a decent beard going, and it gets kind of itchy at times, but I think I’ll keep it. It will hopefully help me stay warm in the colder weather.

  The rest of this afternoon I’m just going to make some final preparations and finish putting away as much of my camp as I can before I go. I’m planning to leave in the morning as soon as it’s light enough to see.

  Miles wasn’t exactly happy when I told him how early we were going to have to get up to head off on our trip, but he begrudgingly agreed.

  10:19 p.m.

  I know I usually don’t write this late at night, but the sounds of the forest are so absolutely amazing that I just couldn’t help myself. It’s incredible what you’ll hear out here if you just listen. I’ve awoken to the hoot of owls, giggled at the croaks of frogs, been lulled to sleep by the chirping of the crickets, been roused in the morning by the melodious tunes of any number of different birds, and have had shivers sent up my spine by the distant yips of coyotes.

  The cries of the coyotes don’t really bother me other than worrying about them trying to raid our food stocks. They bother Miles quite a bit, but they always seem to be a good ways off, so I don’t think they’ll try entering our camp. I have to pet the big fat guy to soothe him when they’re out. He shakes like a scared child. So silly, but I guess everything is relative. We all have our fears, rational or not. And I guess being a dog that is afraid of a pack of coyotes is probably far more rational than many human fears.

  Anyway, just wanted to mention the forest sounds and how stunning they can be. But now, it’s time for bed. I have a long day ahead of me. I won’t be writing in the morning since I want to get an early start. I’ll need to break down what little remains of my camp and stash the rest of my stuff in the car since I have no idea just how long I’ll be gone. It could be a day, two, maybe even longer. So I may not be writing again for a while depending on how things go.

  September 25th

  4:57 p.m.

  I made better than expected progress today and am currently holed up in a small abandoned house on the outskirts of Woodcrest. Don’t know what happened to the people who lived here. Not sure I want to know. I just hope they don’t come back when I’m around, or if they do, they don’t mind me having borrowed their home for the night.

  Mil
es is here with me. I think I will leave him in the house tomorrow morning when I venture into town to find out what the situation is there. He’s pretty good about keeping quiet, but I need to be able to move unhindered, and having sweet ‘ol tubby along doesn’t make that as simple as it sounds. He almost got us nailed today on our way to Woodcrest.

  We were walking down the road leading into town. We hadn’t seen a single soul coming or going, and Miles was all excited because there was a big box turtle smack dab in the middle of the double yellow lines. Miles was doing what I call his little “excited dance”. I guess it’s more of a “prance” you might say. He gets all giddy and starts high-stepping and yanking on his leash.

  The sizeable turtle must have been lurking in the surrounding lakes and lowlands for years to have grown so large. I stood staring at it for a few moments, marveling at the beauty of the shelled slowpoke. Outlines of bright yellow interspersed themselves around the dark browns of its humped back. The fingerprint patterns of each individual tile formed the matrix of its shell like the rings detailing the age of a tree. It was then that I realized I hadn’t seen a live, out-in-the-wild turtle in years. And oddly, I have to admit that I’ve missed it. There is just something about the creatures that puts me at ease. Maybe it’s the pace with which they attack life – a slow, steady, monotony that allows for some appreciation of the path their traveling.