The Dystopian Diaries

by K. W. Callahan

  Okay, enough writing for now. I’m going to eat the dinner that Liz and Catherine have made and get back to work. AJ has volunteered to help me with the body hauling. He’s such an amazing little trooper. I really didn’t want him too, but at the same time, I could use the help since I’m pretty exhausted. Luckily, Liz overheard his offer and said she would help instead. This situation is traumatizing enough without our dear boy having to bury people who were like grandparents to him.

  On the food front, things are getting kind of tight, especially with Catherine and the girls here (they still haven’t gone back to their own condo). We’ll have to come up with something soon if we’re going to be feeding a group of six instead of just three.

  September 15th

  7:57 a.m.

  I just didn’t have the energy or the desire to write more last night.

  After a dinner of pasta (cooked in a pot on the grill) with some red sauce, I went to bed. I was exhausted after the day’s events and really just wanted to shut down my mind from all the thinking. I hoped that sleep would bring me some level of peace, but I only ended up seeing visions of my dead friends in my dreams.

  As I sit here writing in our dark condo, hurricane shutters drawn, shades pulled, I find it almost like being on another planet. It’s so eerily quiet now – no people, no cars, no sirens, no airplanes, no distant gunfire…nothing. It’s weird in a way, but it also makes me feel strangely safer. At the beginning of all this, I was praying for the sounds of salvation in the form of human assistance. But at this point, the LAST thing I want to hear is the sound of other people.

  I feel like we should be coming up with some sort of plan, but I have no idea what that plan should be. I mean really, what are we supposed to do? Where are we supposed to go? Where do we turn for help or instructions?

  I’M…JUST…SO…PISSED!!!

  This is not how things were supposed to go in life…especially here. This was supposed to be our happy place. Things were supposed to be carefree when we came here. The world sure as hell wasn’t supposed to end. But here we are, and there’s no sense in whining about it.

  And these assholes from the other night, I just don’t get it. I mean sure, take our supplies – fine. It’s a dick move, but I guess it’s survival of the fittest now. Still, you don’t have to KILL people. It’s not like they’re going to turn you in to police or testify against you. Just take the shit and go. But no, you have to kill a bunch of senior citizens. Nice…real nice. I guess there’s no reasoning with people like that. They’re acting instinctually. They just take what they want and smash – or in this instance, KILL – anything that gets in their way or that they might deem a threat.

  AJ seems so dejected, not that all of us aren’t pretty down in the dumps right now. The girls sulk around here like zombies. I never knew they could be so quiet. It’s so sad. This situation is bad enough for adults. I can’t imagine what these kids must be going through. And for as hard as the adults work to shelter them from what’s going on and act as if things are going to be okay, it’s obvious that isn’t the case – the danger is palpable now, especially after last night.

  So what’s the end game here? We just hide away, sweating, and stinking, and starving until we wither up and die? The pool is scummy with algae; otherwise, I’d take the family down for a rinse. But between the state of the pool, and the danger of being shot for trying to bathe, we’re screwed in that regard as well. Of course there’s always the ocean for a bath, but then you’re faced with running the gauntlet across the dunes to get out there. And you have no idea who you might encounter along the way. Maybe we’ll make an attempt tonight, once it’s dark. It might seem silly to risk it just to get clean, but feeling like this, filth-covered and sticky all the time, just leaves your body crying out for some attention to personal hygiene.

  11:04 a.m.

  I don’t have much to write, but the days are so long here being trapped inside that there isn’t much else to do. At this point, we’re just trying to keep from jumping on one another over every little thing. Nerves are frayed, boredom has peaked, and everyone is frightened and frustrated.

  Liz is reading to AJ. There aren’t many kids books in our little condo library here. They’re mostly paperbacks Liz and I have left behind after reading them on past trips. She’s reading him a Grissom novel right now…“The Client” I think. He seems interested. What else does he have to do?

  Catherine and the girls are in their room (our guest room). Yes, they’re still here. I can’t blame them for not wanting to leave. I’m not sure what they’re up to. The girls spend a lot of time fiddling with their hair – braiding it, brushing it, trying different styles. Hey, whatever works to keep them busy. They were driving me a little nuts earlier with their whining about there being nothing to do. I try to ignore it, but sometimes it’s hard. I jumped on Carly a little bit, asking her what in the heck she expected me to do about her boredom, but I immediately apologized. Things are just so tense here…for EVERYONE.

  2:48 p.m.

  Will this heat ever end? It just goes on and on. Back in Chicago, we’d be getting close to fall time. Here, it still feels like mid-summer. The high temps don’t help us keep our cool either physically or mentally. People’s tempers are short and growing shorter.

  I wish Catherine and the girls would just go back to their condo, but I’m afraid they’re a fixture here at this point. And unfortunately, they’re a fixture that doesn’t do much other than consume our rapidly dwindling supplies and complain a lot about their situation. It’s intensely annoying. As much as I like them, they’re really starting to push my buttons. Even Liz and AJ have made several comments to me about their presence. I’m not sure what to do. They’re driving us nuts, using our supplies, and generally making nuisances of themselves. At the same time, they’re our friends and neighbors, and they have no real food of their own or a safe place to go. So what are we supposed to do? I wish I could go for a walk right now, just to get the hell out of here. But doing that would only risk my life. To think that just a short time ago, we were walking to Pineapples, happy and carefree. Our only concern was what cocktail to select next or what to make for dinner. Just going outside now puts your life and the lives of your family and friends at risk.

  What has our world come to?

  On an unrelated, yet critical note, we’re beginning to run low on fresh water. We can’t use the pool because it’s looking like a cesspool out there. I tried the water in our hot water heater, but all sorts of nasty stuff came out in the water when I opened the valve to release some of its contents. It might be safe to drink, but I’m not chancing it. We encountered similar results when we tried the hot water heater next door as well as in Catherine’s unit. And it hasn’t rained enough lately to quench the thirst of seven people all cooped up in a sweat-box of a condo all day.

  We’re going to have to come up with something soon or risk shriveling up into raisins.

  September 16th

  9:22 a.m.

  Boy, I don’t know what side of the bed people woke up on this morning, but it sure isn’t any side I want to be on. Seems like everybody is pissed at everybody. I’m just trying to stay away from people. The littlest thing has us jumping down one another’s throat. I get it; but it sucks.

  Frankly, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. While it’d certainly make things easier if people were bright and cheery, I have to focus my efforts on things other than company morale. With all these people here, we’re burning through fresh water like crazy. I’d say we have maybe four or five days left at best without rain, maybe a week’s worth if we really stretch it, which is near impossible with Catherine and the girls here. And it hasn’t rained in days, which means we haven’t collected any rainwater.

  But I have an idea on how we might remedy our situation. It’s going to take a little studying, but hey, what the heck else do I have to do?

  3:22 p.m.

  Okay, I think I’ve come up with a solution to our water issue. It’s
not the best, but I definitely think it’s worth a shot.

  So earlier in our trip, I was reading my well-worn copy of Kon-Tiki, a book I’ve read many times here at the condo. I always felt that Thor Heyerdahl’s amazing adventure on his manmade raft across the Pacific, and the incredible things that he and his crew experienced along the way, tended to meld well with our time spent on Florida’s coast. Every time I read it, it kind of put me at ease and made me feel more in tune with the ocean.

  Anyway, I never typically finish the entire book during our vacations. I read one part, then another, then another, going back and forth reading various portions that fit my mood, mostly the parts that occur once they’ve set sail on the vast Pacific.

  I recalled earlier today that one section of the book was devoted to the crew’s life aboard the raft as their water supply began to go somewhat stale after a few months at sea. What follows is a brief account of how to stretch a water supply when aboard a raft in the middle of the Pacific, surrounded by nothing but untold amounts of salty seawater.

  The first option, which was somewhat unappetizing, was squeezing drinkable “juices” from within raw fish. Mr. Heyerdahl’s description of the ability to quench one’s thirst with the “ooze from the fish’s lymphatic glands” that “does not taste good if one has anything better to drink” did not top my list of options.

  I found the next section more interesting and far more appealing. Heyerdahl writes, “On really hot days in the tropics you can pour tepid water down your throat till you taste in at the back of your mouth, and you are just as thirsty. It is not liquid the body needs then, but, curiously enough, salt.”

  He goes on to say, “On such days we added from 20 to 40 per cent of bitter, salt sea water to our fresh-water ration and found, to our surprise, that this water quenched our thirst.”

  I guess it makes sense when I think about it logically. Your body sweats, and sweat is salty, so you’re sweating out plenty of salt. I suppose you WOULD need to replenish it. But as a child, I was taught not to drink saltwater, that it would only make me thirstier. If you need that salt, however, and you’re not drinking the seawater straight, a mixed concoction is apparently an option. I guess I’ll find out.

  The problem now becomes that I have to go to the ocean to collect the water. AJ offered to go with me…of course. That won’t be happening. That little fella is making me so darn proud through all this, but there’s no way I’m going to put him at anymore risk than he’s already at. I guess I’ll have to wait until it’s dark to avoid being seen. Things definitely seem to have quieted down around here, but I can’t chance it. It’s become glaringly apparent that the people left on this planet aren’t necessarily the best of sorts. And it’s my duty to do all that I can to keep us away from them and them away from us.

  September 17th

  7:43 a.m.

  Jesus, this heat is intolerable! Will it ever end?! I know I keep going on about it, but all we do is SWEAT! SWEAT!! SWEAT!!! It’s enough to drive a man crazy…or an entire family for that matter. I think that everyone crammed inside this condo is at their absolute breaking point. At least I have the water problem solved for the time being.

  So this morning, I got up early, not that I was getting much sleep in this heat anyway. I waited until just before dawn, when it was barely light enough to see. While everyone was still asleep, I grabbed six, empty, one-gallon jugs (the most I can carry full without assistance) and headed downstairs.

  As stealthily as I could, I crept out to the beach. I really disliked being out there. I felt so exposed. It’s like you’re on stage for the world to see, except in this world, the crowd doesn’t throw barbs, boos and rotten tomatoes, they pull knives or shoot guns.

  Thankfully, I made it out to the water’s edge safely. There, I set down my empty bottles, unscrewed the tops of the first two, and waded out into the breaking waves to set about the process of filling them. I tried to crouch down between the breaking waves to keep my profile low against the early-morning horizon as I listened to the water bubble and burble its way inside the milk jugs.

  I had just finished filling my third and fourth jugs when I felt something bump against my side. I jumped, thinking that it was a shark. But as I felt it again, I wondered if maybe it was a big dead fish or piece of floating debris. As I peered down into the dark water, however, I saw bobbing beside me something far larger. After a few more seconds inspecting the object, to my horror, I realized that it was a human body.

  The revelation sent me hurrying back to shore where I immediately dumped out all the contents I’d just collected from inside my filled jugs. I was almost physically ill thinking about the potential for ingesting water collected from right beside a floating corpse.

  I then walked hurriedly (since the morning sky was brightening quickly) up the shore a couple hundred feet to resume my jug filling process.

  I finished my work without further incident, but it makes me wonder if there are other dead bodies bobbing around out there in the water. I can’t get the thought out of my head of what we might be ingesting. I didn’t mention what I saw to the others. Knowing AJ, he’d probably think it was disgustingly cool. But the girls, oh those girls, they would go absolutely bananas if they knew. Hey, maybe it’d work out in my favor. Maybe they’d stop drinking so much water. Ha! No, that’s not right. I can’t think that way. We’re all in this together now, for better or for worse.

  The next thing on our list of concerns now becomes food. With all these mouths to feed, our remaining supplies are going fast – VERY fast!

  It really bothers me considering we have plenty of fishing poles and a whole ocean of fish. Some night fishing might be in our future considering how fast our food is disappearing. I know that AJ will want to go with me. It’s one job I might let him help me with as long as it is REALLY dark out and we continue not to see anyone on the beach. We’ll see.

  11:11 a.m.

  I just got back inside from being out on the balcony with Liz. We cracked open the hurricane shutters to take a look at the beach to see if anyone was around. We’ve been trying to monitor the situation outside our condo building lately. While we were checking things out, we noticed objects bobbing in the ocean waves just off shore. They were large white things that at first we thought were trash bags or similar floating debris. But after Liz got the binoculars, we realized that we were wrong. And after she spotted one of the floating objects that had partially come free from its bindings, we realized that these were sheet-wrapped bodies. There have to be at least several dozen, maybe more.

  The experience left us both wondering where they could have come from and why. Were they flu victims? If so, where are they coming from? There are no hospitals in the near vicinity. Maybe a local government agency dumped them. I really have no idea. All I know is that it’s a horrible sight seeing them riding the waves out there. To think that just weeks ago, happy, carefree, LIVING people were bobbing out there where dead bodies now float like seagulls.

  I hope the tide takes them away soon. The thought of having to go fishing or collect more water with them out there thoroughly disgusts me.

  Liz asked me whether I thought the bodies would contaminate the water in some way. I told her I really had no idea. I know the ocean is huge, and the waves churn it like a giant washing machine, helping to dissipate the filth. And with all the sea creatures out there, hopefully the remains will be consumed quickly.

  I just hope they go away soon. We have enough ghastly reminders of what has happened to our once wonderful world.

  4:09 p.m.

  It’s eerily quiet around here, but I’ll take it. Quiet means no people. And no people means no fighting or killing.

  I’m not sure what happened to the wackos who shot up the aid convoy or attacked our condo building. Hopefully they’ve wrought all the destruction they’re going to wreak and have moved on to greener pastures. That or they’ve turned on one another and decimated their own ranks. For other people’s sake, I hope it’s t
he latter of the two options. Whatever it is, I just hope they don’t come back here. We’ve had our fill of them.

  How I wish we could open up the hurricane shutters to feel that fresh ocean breeze waft across us again. But I dare not chance it yet…maybe in a few days.

  September 18th

  10:33 a.m.

  It’s dreary and overcast this morning. I hope it rains, but if nothing else, the cloud cover is helping to keep the temperature down. I pray we’re on our way to an early fall, but it’s Florida, so I have no illusions.

  AJ and I spent the better part of the morning gathering all the fishing equipment we could find around the condo building and getting is sorted, cleaned, and put together. When all was said and done, it looks as though we have at least six good rods and reels all set and ready to go, not that we’ll be using them today. Maybe if it remains quiet like this for another day or so, we’ll try some fishing again. If we do, I want to be able to take multiple poles out with us so we can best utilize our time outside.

  Meanwhile, I’m glad to say the sheet-wrapped corpses have moved along. It looks like their heading north toward the pier. Hopefully that means the current is taking any potentially contaminated water with it in that direction. I hate to think that the sea life in the surrounding area has probably nibbled bits off the corpses, but I just have to look at it as the cycle of life. The fish and crabs and other sea life probably eat all sorts of other nasty stuff, so I guess I shouldn’t complain too much.