After the disaster that was last night’s rehearsal, I had a significant amount of dread heading into tonight’s dress rehearsal. However, I am happily relieved to say that it went relatively smoothly. It wasn’t perfect, but it looks like we have a professional looking show. The actors remembered their lines, the set looks great, the lighting cues were almost spot on, and it sounded fantastic. I hope that this means it will be even better tomorrow. However, I keep thinking of this saying I know: bad dress, good show. Hopefully, this doesn’t mean that the reverse will be true for us.
I went to pick up the children after the rehearsal, not staying for the director’s notes telling us what to work on. He’ll tell me if I need to know anything about props or costumes.
Linda met me at the door to her house and said that the children had all fallen asleep together after watching a movie. I went in to see them and they were all curled up with Resa, a big fluffy blanket secure around them. I didn’t have the heart to wake them and told Linda I would pick them up in the morning, bright and early. She seemed happy with this.
I will be bringing them to the opening of Into the Woods. David has us sitting in the booth to watch the show so that if they’re noisy, it won’t bother anyone. This will be their first live show. They love music so much; I’m excited for them to see it.
April 22
Today we spent the day at the theatre. The children were absolutely enthralled with everything that was going on around them. Samantha loved following Cinderella and Rapunzel around, playing with their hair, pulling on their skirts. Ethan followed Justin in his wolf costume, howling and barking at him all the while. Benjamin latched on to the young man playing Jack. Jonathon was thrilled to have a little protégé that he could sing to and practice acting with. I was smiling the entire day. Everyone’s spirits were sky high as we prepared for our opening night.
As the time drew near for our first live audience, I could see that we were all suffering from a mild case of nerves. Even the professional actors were jittery backstage. It had been months since they had had a live audience hanging on their every word. Everyone involved desperately wanted everything to go off without a hitch.
Evening finally came. The cast had dinner together with the production team in the theatre’s green room. The show was scheduled to begin at eight. By seven, Lauren, the girl who was playing Cinderella, was locked in the dressing room’s bathroom, vomiting. She was absolutely terrified of making a mistake on stage.
Eight o’clock finally came around and I was in the booth with the children. We sat together watching the stage from the windows. The overture began, and we were transported to James Lapine and Stephen Sondheim’s world of mixed up fairy tales, tragedy, and the message that no one is ever truly alone.
The actors were flawless. The set was inspired. It was amazing what we had accomplished with little to no resources, few people skilled in the theatrical arts, and the sheer will to inspire people and make them forget for a while.
The entire show, the triplets didn’t make a peep. They sat with me utterly transfixed by what was happening on stage. By the end of act two, when Cinderella tells Little Red Riding Hood that in spite of the fact that her family is gone, she is not alone, I could see from the booth that there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. I worried for a moment that we had made a misstep choosing this show. So many characters die. So many people suffer a horrible loss. But at the end, everyone was on their feet, crying and cheering at the same time. The tears were cathartic. They had found a safe outlet in the theatre. We had brought everyone together to laugh and cry as one. We had given them a night of story and music. We had succeeded.
After the show, I went out into the lobby. I had three sleepy children with me and we needed to get home, but I wanted to say hello to some people. As I walked through the crowd, I was tackled from behind. I turned and found myself staring into the eyes of my best friend, Marilyn.
I must have stood staring at her for the longest time, just crying in shock.
“I came today,” she said. “Jon and I were found in my parents’ basement. We were malnourished and dehydrated. We were taken into army custody and put into a hospital. We were released this morning and brought here. I heard about the show and wanted to come and surprise you.”
I have to say that this was one of the best surprises I have ever had. We stood in the lobby holding each other tightly, laughing and crying, not even caring who saw. David came over and looked at who I had found. He joined the embrace, crying as well.
I had lost hope that I would ever see her again. Apparently, I was wrong. I thank God that I was. Tonight was a miracle in so many ways. We had a party after to celebrate. Marilyn and Jon joined us, as well as the actors and Xuân, Mike, and Dan. It went into the wee hours. In fact, I suppose this entry should be dated the twenty-third since that is when I’m actually writing this. People are still laughing and singing downstairs. I can’t remember the last time I saw people truly cut loose like this. Life is going on. We won.
April 29
Ethan crawled into my lap today as I was looking over all my old entries.
“Book?” he asked me, as he saw what I was reading.
“Diary,” I told him.
I’m looking back over everything I have written and I wonder why I kept at it with such dedication. I spoke with David about it today. He thinks that maybe I should have it published as a memoir. I don’t know if I can do that. It’s all too personal. This is our story. This is how we survived. This diary tells of Olivia’s last days, how we met Dan and Mike, how Mike and Xuân fell in love, how my children became who they are today. I don’t know if I can deal with the idea of strangers looking into these intimate details of our lives.
What these pages are good for is showing Ethan, Benjamin, and Samantha what we did to keep them safe. Our love for our children is written in these pages. Everything we did was for them, and they will always have these pages as proof of this.
Epilogue
In the days and months after I finished this document, many changes came into effect in the world. A worldwide effort to get the internet and its satellites back up and running finally succeeded. The safe zone expanded to the point that people felt safe enough to come and go as they pleased.
There are still the occasional zombie attacks and sightings, but we are (for the most part) armed and wary enough to take care of ourselves. The zombie threat has become a normal part of life now. Even children know to go get an armed adult or aim for the head when one is spotted.
Our little theatre company is continuing to do shows for the community. We have expanded to do open mic nights where people can get up and try to entertain each other. These have been a rousing success.
This winter we had our first election since the outbreak. Our new Prime Minister, Ed Roberts, was sworn in, to much fanfare. Under his watch, hospitals have been reopened, education has been restarted, and trade has begun anew with other countries around the world.
Dan has had steady work helping rebuild homes, and David and Loren are keeping him busy with sets for all manner of shows for them. Mike is doing what he can for the arts community as well. Xuân has found her calling writing an anti-zombie defence course for the school district. She will be teaching it nearby in the fall. In the meantime, she goes off on “assignments” for days on end. We have no way of reaching her, nor of knowing where she is. She says it’s for the course. All I know is that Mike is always worried when this happens.
Personally, I have begun teaching young children at a school within walking distance from my home. It seems the least I could do to help everyone here. There is still no sign of my parents or my niece, but if I have learned anything, it is never to give up on anyone. People will always surprise you.
* * * Xuân * * *
I jumped out of the back of the army truck, with the rest of my team with me. We have guns now; the army is more confident in our loyalty. Also, that guy I caught cutting off zombie ears as trophies is go
ne, so they’re pretty sure the rest of us aren’t nutters. We have lasted this long.
I ease up to the main doors. We’re clearing a school today. The team moved quickly around the school, checking the other access points. They come back and signal “clear.” The main doors are the best place. The stairs and cement borders make a choke point, easier to pick off the zombies. I rattle the doors to pull any zombies to my location. They come and bang on the door, eager for us. I signal the “retreat to the safe position.” One of the others runs up to the door and cuts the chain. He retreats quickly as the zombies begin to pour out the doors. My snipers on top of the truck pick off as many of the first ones as possible, forcing the other zombies to stumble over the bodies. I signal that we can start shooting.
Everyone thinks I’m off doing zombie defence teaching in another town for the day. And to be fair, I do teach defence courses, but only like once a month. I usually do three to four “jobs” a month. No more than a couple of days, I have somewhere I need to be….
I also have someone I need to be with at home. Someone to keep me human. I won’t be a living zombie, lurching from one job to the next, needing only the kill. I have someone at home. Waiting.
I won’t disappoint.
Final Entry
Journal 1
About the Authors
Alisse Lee Goldenberg
Alisse holds a bachelor of education and a fine arts degree; she has studied fantasy and folklore since she was a child. Alisse lives in Toronto, Canada, with her husband, Brian; their triplets, Joseph, Phillip, and Hailey. She has also authored the Sitnalta Series and the Dybbuk Scrolls Trilogy. Please feel free to visit her at www.alisseleegoldenberg.com
* * *
An Tran
An lives in Canada, just close enough to make a break for it to the Arctic in case of zombie attack. She is an avid hunter of scotch and chocolate. Her deep appreciation of Hello Kitty, and cats in general does not detract from her love of all things gory and violent. Sometimes she reads zombie books to children, and then they think they are mini zombies. She’s not really a fiction writer, but wrote this novel for fun, and is still pretty sure she’s stumbled into an alternate reality where people want to read what she pulls from the shallow pits of her brain. Every day she tries to blend in at the office while frantically wondering when a zombie is going to shamble out. How DO you kill a zombie with just an umbrella?
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The Bath Salts Journals: Volume One Page 20
