The Dystopian Diaries

by K. W. Callahan

  Someone is knocking on my door.

  11:18 a.m.

  That was Benjamin (Manny’s son) at the door. They were eating a late breakfast, having slept in, and Benjamin said that they couldn’t find forks. I haven’t been using many utensils in my stay here at the hotel, but I managed to scrounge up an assortment of several spoons and forks that they could use. I politely reminded them that fresh water for washing such accoutrements was scarce and that they should probably search for ways of eating without such accessories if possible in the future.

  Uh oh, someone’s knocking at my door again. What do they need now?

  1:03 p.m.

  It was Manny at the door this time. He wanted to talk about our situation here. I was all for that. I’ve wanted to talk to someone about what’s going on for quite a while now, and I was hoping that Manny could shed some light on what the situation is not only in Chicago, but the rest of the country as well.

  While he wasn’t super helpful in the latter part of that equation, he clarified some things about how it’s going here in Chicago – pretty terrible. He said that utilities are down, which I already knew. He said that law and order is kaput. He said there are roaming gangs of vigilantes, looters, or looters POSING as vigilantes. This last type was the most dangerous; and they were the people that Manny and his family had encountered along their trip to the hotel. He said that these people pose as good citizens, willing to assist those in need. As soon as they lure these people in however, they then turned on them and take whatever they have. Manny was just thankful his family had escaped with their lives. He’d heard stories where that was not the case.

  Meanwhile, he’d heard nothing about a cure for the flu, which continued to thrive among those still able to catch and spread it. The last report he’d heard was that the number of infected in the Chicago area was in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions. And that was well over a week ago. He said that by this point, with the way the flu was spreading when they’d lost news services, he’d guess that probably 70 to 80 percent or more of Chicago was either dead or dying from the flu. And those who weren’t embroiled in that battle were either being killed by looters or were looters killing one another for the spoils of their exploits.

  Hearing this inspired little confidence. So I asked Manny if he had heard any better news from the suburbs or outside the Chicagoland area.

  He replied that he hadn’t. Things were about the same whether it was in northeastern Illinois, the Midwest region, or the nation as a whole. And he explained that even if we wanted to leave the city, we couldn’t. He said that the highways were jammed with abandoned and burned out vehicles. And the few routes that were still open were death traps. These routes have apparently been cleared by highway men. There, they lay in wait until unsuspecting travelers encounter some sort of trap – an injured person lying in the road, tire spikes, or some other obstacle – and then they spring death upon the people trying to flee in order to steal their supplies.

  Manny said that our best bet is probably just to sit tight in the hotel and wait things out. But then the question becomes, how long do we wait? And then what?

  So we wait another week, several weeks, a month. Will things be any better by that point? From the sound of what Manny said, the situation is only becoming increasingly dire, and there are fewer and fewer people alive to figure a way out of this thing. Is the government even functioning anymore? Who knows? Not Manny. Not ME, that’s for sure.

  Maybe the answers will come with time. I sure as hell hope so.

  Anyway, while we were talking, and once it came to light that we might be here for a while, Manny asked about the hotel’s (i.e. MY) supply situation. He voiced his concern after having seen the destruction wrought on the lower-levels that there might not be many supplies left in the hotel other than what I had hoarded away. And he was worried that if we didn’t have enough food on hand, we might be forced to venture out to do a little looting for ourselves.

  I agreed with what he had said regarding the lower levels and explained that what wasn’t taken by the looters had largely spoiled due to lack of refrigeration once the generator failed. But I told him not to worry too much, that I had supplied two other guest rooms similar to my own in the event that help did not arrive soon. This seemed to placate his concern a bit but he was worried that having all the supplies on the same floor might open us up to someone finding us here and stealing the stuff. I again did my best to alleviate his worries by explaining to my former boss that I thought of the potential for this as well and had stashed the supplies in random rooms on the eighth, tenth, and fifteenth floors. I didn’t bother going into detail on the lower level stashes since I’ve already consumed most of the supplies in the basement, and I want to keep my ventilation closet a secret just in case the hotel ever re-opens.

  Alright, that’s enough writing for now. I’m going to pay a visit next door to make sure my new neighbors are doing okay.

  September 17th

  8:18 a.m.

  I’m finding it much easier to get into a sort of normal sleep schedule up here in a guest room as opposed to a windowless closet or locker room.

  I spent most of the remainder of yesterday talking with my new neighbors, playing some card games with them to pass the time, and discussing potential menu options we have with our remaining supplies. It seems that it’s much harder to please the palates of a family of four than just my own. They didn’t seem thrilled with ideas like peanut butter crackers, canned veggies, or dry cereals. But I think we came up with a few viable meal options.

  It was an early night for everyone. Once it gets dark, and without television or other electronic devices to keep us occupied, it’s easier just to hit the sack than try to find things to keep us busy. I don’t envy Manny’s situation. Having kids to try to keep entertained and calm in the apocalypse must be intensely difficult. And daughter Emma is a very mature looking twelve-year-old. That must be even more frightening to her parents in this sort of environment. Where pillaging may be accompanied by raping, not only does poor Manny have to worry about his wife, but his young and unsullied (I’m assuming at least) daughter.

  But Manny’s offspring seem to be holding up reasonably well under the circumstances. They certainly seem to be doing better than I would at their age in such a situation. Manny is lucky in a way. The kids seem old enough to think for themselves and help out but not so old that they’re getting themselves into trouble. But I think kids are wired differently in this day and age. While they’re softer in some ways, they’re also more hardened to the realities of the world. They’re softer in that they are accustomed to the instant-gratification, no boredom world that technology has presented them. In that way, this situation – with no phones and no electricity – really sucks for them, and they seem somewhat clueless without an electronic device in hand to tell them what to do next.

  On the other hand, in some ways, they seem almost unfazed by the violence and destruction being waged around them. They’re used to heads getting blown off and explosions erupting everywhere from the Hollywood movies they watched. They’re used to post-apocalyptic environments from the television shows they saw. They’re used to looting and car-jackings from the nightly news reports. And they’re used to real-life school shooting scenarios that occurred far too often in their own little worlds.

  Emma seems to be holding up slightly better than her older brother. I can’t imagine being a teenager, moving into the crosshairs of adolescence, only to be faced with the Su flu calamity. That period in life can be challenging enough – acne, girls, puberty, hair sprouting all over – without having the apocalypse thrust in your face.

  Glad I don’t have kids to have to guide through this…although now, I feel some level of responsibility to Manny’s nippers. It’s not a feeling I particularly like.

  12:17 p.m.

  It’s sunny out, but it’s cooled down nicely. I’d say it’s only in the lower 70s at best.

  Manny and I have decided
to take Benjamin and head downstairs to the eighth floor to bring the supplies from 819 up to their room. That will be our afternoon project. I figure we might as well. With four people, it won’t be long before we’ve gone through the stuff we brought down from the attic and the food I’d already stashed here on fifteen.

  Manny took it upon himself last night to go scavenging on his own. When I found this out, I warned him against taking such chances. But when he showed me several bottles of booze and wine he’d brought back that the looters must have missed, I couldn’t be too upset with him.

  To celebrate his finds, we’re going to have a family poker night this evening. Manny and I thought it would be a nice way for us to let loose a little and take our minds off our current situation.

  4:39 p.m.

  Manny was asking about the bathing situation inside the hotel and how I had been handling it over the past few weeks. I explained that initially I had used the pool, but once the power had gone off, I was leery of what might be growing in its water. I went on to say that lately, it had mostly been sponge baths with toilet tank water, the sponge being replaced with a washcloth. While the idea might sound repulsive, I reminded him that the water was fresh since it had yet to enter the actual toilet bowl itself. And with options limited, it was the best I could come up with unless he had a better idea, which he didn’t. He said that he would use the toilet tank water, but that he would collect it in private so that his family wouldn’t be the wiser. I therefore unlocked several nearby rooms for him so that he could siphon water from their tanks.

  I’m noting the rooms here so that I don’t forget and lose track of which rooms we’ve already utilized. If we plan to remain here for an extended period of time, we might end up using the water from a lot more rooms. I don’t want to be playing a game of whack-a-mole, bouncing from room to room after we’ve forgotten which ones we’ve used.

  So far we’ve used the water from rooms 1501-1513. The water supply around us is going much faster now that there are five of us. A toilet tank doesn’t yield much water to begin with, so we can easily go through several tanks’ worth or more in a day. I hate using the water for anything but drinking, but considering that some level of general hygiene really is necessary, and we still have hundreds of rooms worth of water to use, I don’t see it being much of a problem at the moment.

  Probably my biggest worry about using the water from these rooms is just being out in the open. If someone else is lurking around the hotel, they chance stumbling on us while we’re moving between rooms. And whether they’re good people or bad, we don’t really need more people of either sort. Good people will need help, and I’m already helping four people I hadn’t counted on. And bad people will be looking to take what we have.

  Okay, I’m going to start getting ready for our poker night event. We planned dinner for five o’clock and the start of the poker game for six. I’m actually looking forward to this more than I thought. As much as I enjoyed the privacy of working on third shift back in our old world, I think I’ve missed the social interaction that comes with having other people around. Writing in this journal helps me express some of my thoughts about what’s going on around me, but it’s just not the same as having an actual warm-blooded human being with whom to commiserate.

  September 18th

  10:03 a.m.

  I slept in this morning. I think everyone did. We were up late playing cards, drinking (well, not the kids, but they DID have sodas), and doing our best to forget our troubles and the chaos around us.

  Our poker games were fun. We bet things like pretzels, potato chips, and similar snack foods (the stuff we weren’t eating at least).

  I think everyone welcomed the opportunity to just focus on fun for a few hours.

  I drank WAY too much, but hell, it’s not like I have to wake up for work or anything. It was a nice way to get to know the Salatro family better. After a few drinks, I even showed them how to eat a green olive the RIGHT way. They thought I was a little nutty at first, but they all gave it a shot. Benjamin was funny. He kept saying he messed up and needed to try with another. It wasn’t until his fifth olive that I realized he was just gaming the system to get more olives. Typical teenager!

  What the hell?! Something just hit the window…HARD.

  10:17 a.m.

  It was a bird that hit the window. Poor thing. I found it dead outside on the window ledge. It must have broken its neck when it hit the glass.

  I feel bad for the bird. It’s funny, with all that’s going on around me, I almost feel worse for this poor dead bird than I do for the piles of dead humans down on the street below. I guess maybe it’s because we kind of deserve something like this, like the flu. Human beings think we’re so great, that we’re untouchable. And when we are touched by something like the Su flu, we wilt like delicate flowers or one of those spiders you find in the bathtub that when you try to get it out with a tissue, it crumples into its death curl at the slightest touch. But all the bird did was fly into the side of a building, something that should never have naturally been there to begin with; something that was put in the way by ridiculous humans who only seem to destroy when they aren’t busy building things that only destroy further. Seems like the only time humans can’t create something unnatural to destroy stuff is when we need a vaccine to destroy the Su flu…how ironic.

  I wonder why the bird hit the window. We are quite a ways up, and I’m facing north, so the sunlight shouldn’t be much of an issue in creating a glare or reflection. It makes me worry. Maybe the flu can be passed from humans to animals.

  That’s a frightening thought. If animals die out in droves like people, it could be a mass extinction event. People – at least SOME people – have the sense of self-preservation, the knowledge of what is going on and how to hide away and protect themselves. Animals are unaware of the situation raging around them. On second thought, that’s a pretty naïve idea. Animals have been here a lot longer than us humans. And they’ve made it through far harsher events than just a flu pandemic. From ice ages to asteroids plowing into the planet, somehow, non-human creatures have maintained a hold on Earth for millions of years. It’s silly to think that they couldn’t make it through something like this.

  Ugh…my head is killing me. I drank WAY too much last night. Trying to focus on the words as I write them is making my vision blur, my head throb, and those ripples of nausea start to hit. I need to drink some water to try to kill the pounding headache that’s coming on. I felt so-so when I first woke up, but now I’m starting to feel really crappy. Note to self, during the apocalypse, don’t get drunk when you’re trying to conserve water – probably not the best idea.

  3:13 p.m.

  After a quick stop in to check on the Salatros where I found the patriarch in a similar state to myself, I came back to my room, drank a bottle of water, and took a long nap. I needed it, plus, I’m finding that naps are a great time killer. Problem is lately, I’m exhausted mentally, but physically, I haven’t been tired enough to drift off as often.

  Today was the exception however. The hangover nap really kicked into high gear after I got done writing this morning. I feel a ton better now that I’ve had my rest and given my body some additional time to process all that alcohol.

  As their parents did their best to recover from last night, the poor Salatro kids seemed bored out of their young minds. Emma was reading a book, but Benjamin appeared to be in one of those teenage funks that’s tough to break. I don’t envy Manny and Sandra. They have no easy task. Kids at those ages are tough to figure out. They still want to be kids and have that silly side to them, yet at the same time, they want to distance themselves from parents and start molding that aura of independence.

  I’ve been trying to think of ways to help the Salatros entertain the kids, but having little experience on which to rely other than my own distant upbringing (which was far different from the upbringings of today), I’m finding myself largely at a loss. But maybe I’m over-thinking it. Maybe I’
m trying to gear my thoughts too heavily toward the entertainment of today rather than thinking back to that of yesteryear. The kids seemed to have a great time playing poker last night, and that didn’t take place on a video screen. Maybe, just maybe, they’d like to learn a few new games. I used to play quite a few different card games with my grandparents growing up – rummy, solitaire, blackjack, war, euchre, hearts, spades, and the likes. While you can’t play all those games with just two people, there are a few in the repertoire that Benjamin and Emma might find entertaining enough to kill a few hours now and then. While the Salatros seem like they have pretty good kids, I know that even good kids can be a real pain in the butt when they’re bored.

  Oh, and by the way, I knocked the dead bird off the window ledge just in case it was flu infected. Plus, I don’t need a decomposing bird carcass outside my window. I’m already starting to get whiffs of the corpses in the street 15 floors below. I don’t think it will be long before I’ll have to close the window and lose any semblance of a fresh breeze I’ve been enjoying over the past few days.

  5:47 p.m.

  I’m heading next door to the Salatros room after dinner. I want to try teaching them some new card games. Plus, it’s nice to be able to spend time with them. I enjoy their company.