Stories in a Lost World: Kristy
L.C. Mortimer
For the boy who never gave up on me
Copyright: L.C. Mortimer
Published: 19th May 2015
Publisher: Amazon Kindle
The right of L. C. Mortimer to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Kristy is an average college student when the new plague sweeps Kansas. Lost in this new world of pain, death, and creatures who return from death, she is left with her two roommates to try to make sense of everything happening around her.
This is her journal.
*This is the final book in a 3-part series.*
Contents
June
Author's Note
Author
Other Books by L.C.
June
June 1st
What is there to say? I’m the one who found Danielle. I heard the gunshot and I knew. I immediately knew. I’d been sitting around, wondering why she kissed me in front of everyone, but then I knew. It wasn’t an I-love-you kiss. It was a goodbye kiss.
And now she’s gone.
I didn’t scream when I saw her. Keith was right behind me when I ran up the stairs, and he held me back, keeping me from going into the bedroom. He wrapped his arms around me and kept me safe while I stared at her.
Danielle.
My Danielle.
There are plenty of things to say about death and even more to say about suicide, but I have nothing to say. For once in my life, I’m silent. I have nothing.
I understand why she did it.
And I don’t blame her.
But that doesn’t make me any less sad to lose the one good thing in my life.
It doesn’t make me any less lonely.
It doesn’t make this hurt any less.
June 2nd
Keith and Paul buried her body. I don’t know where. I’m not going to visit the grave. I only know that they carried her far enough away that it wouldn’t bring zombies to the house. I should probably be a better person and go visit her, and go talk to her or something, but I can’t.
I won’t.
I don’t want to think of dead Danielle.
I want to think of Danielle who made me smile.
Danielle who made me laugh.
Danielle who kept me warm at night and hopeful when I was feeling down.
Danielle who was my everything.
And now I have nothing.
While the guys were gone, Bridget found a bottle of bleach and cleaned the bedroom, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t go back into that bedroom. I asked Bridget to bring me my things, and she did. It's not like I have much left that's "mine." When we left our apartment by school, I only brought a backpack.
As it turns out, living at the end of the world means that people become more important than stuff.
And I've lost almost everyone I care about.
I moved my things into Keith’s room. I’m not asking him if I can stay with him. I’m just doing it. It might seem weird and presumptuous, but I don't want to be alone. I can't. Danielle and I were best friends for so long. Yeah, our feelings made us a little more than friends, but our roots ran deep. We were close for a long time. My world feels dead without her.
I don’t know if I’m going to sleep with Keith in the sexual sense, but I’m definitely not sleeping alone. Not after that. Not ever again. The only time I feel safe is when I’m in bed, when I'm curled up beneath the covers. I know they won't protect me from anything, but I feel like they would. I’m not giving that safety up on principle or some long-forgotten moral code. Forget that.
If Keith didn’t want me in his bed, then he shouldn’t be so strong.
June 3rd
Keith was not happy about me sleeping in his room, but he didn’t complain too much. Once he realized I wasn't going to leave, he kind of just let it go. I know for a fact that I don't snore and I certainly don't kick in my sleep, so he has nothing to be upset about. Well, except for maybe the BO. I do my best to keep that under control, though.
We all do our best.
Bridget and Paul are already paired off. They just laughed when Keith told them what I did. They didn’t make any jokes about us being a couple. It’s only been three days since she died, after all, but they gave each other these knowing glances.
Like since Keith is a man, somehow I’m going to fall in love with him. Fuck that.
I finally cried today. I went outside into the woods and let myself have a complete breakdown. No Infected came by. I got lucky. I shouldn’t have been so careless, but I couldn’t bring myself to cry in the house. It’s too raw there. Things are too personal there, too broken. Even though I hate the zombies, I don't think I'm as scared of them as I should be, at least not when I'm just dealing with one or two. When there's a group of them, I definitely run, but out here? There are no groups. Everything's just dead.
The woods were quiet when I sobbed. I remember when there used to be more than silence. I remember the sounds of deer and crickets and birds and chipmunks. I remember going to the woods and wondering what every little noise was.
Now?
Now I'm alone.
I cried in the woods for a long time. It was better than the house. At least in the woods, when I cry, I can pretend that I’m crying over something else and not my dead girlfriend. At least I can pretend that I’m crying because I had a bad day at work or because someone at school made fun of my mom. I can pretend that I’m upset about traffic or a breakup or some equally trite problem.
At the house, everything is too real. Keith and Bridget and Paul are there. They're there and they know why I'm upset. In the darkness of the woods, though, I'm alone. I'm in solitude. I'm by myself and I like it that way.
I should have known this was coming. I don't know why I didn't do more to stop it. Is her death my fault? I'd like to think that it's not, but I don't know anything anymore.
Danielle was damaged. We all knew it. It was obvious. She hasn’t been the same since the guys got here. I’m not blaming them. I’m just saying that in the last few weeks, she really spiraled. Every time she saw a little boy, she thought of her brother and just freaked out. Then once, there was a zombie walking right at her, and she just froze.
Didn’t even try to get it.
I killed it and we escaped, but barely.
That was when I knew Danielle was broken. I don’t mean that in the way people say when they’re going through a breakup, like, “My heart is so broken.”
No, when I say broken, I mean that Danielle was so damaged that she was a shell of who she used to be.
Nobody wants to see someone they love going through that.
Nobody wants to see anyone going through that.
Somehow, knowing that she was lost doesn’t make her death any easier. It’s finally starting to hit me that she isn’t coming back. When I finished crying in the woods, I went home to my new bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Then I cried there some more until Keith came quietly into the room and crawled into bed with me. He rubbed my back for awhile until I stopped crying, until I fell asleep, until I finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.
When I woke up, he was gone. Now I'm alone in our room, the room that I forced him to share with me, and I'm scared because I don’t know what’s going to happen to
me.
June 4th
When you’re lost, you don’t realize it until it’s too late.
You don’t realize how wrong things are until you’re going crazy.
Today, I’m floating through the world as it currently exists, wishing I had something to numb the pain.
Anything.
June 5th
Keith brought me vodka. He left this morning before anyone woke up and went to three different houses until he found a bottle of vanilla flavored vodka.
He doesn’t know it’s my favorite.
He doesn’t know that before the apocalypse, I’d drink this every weekend with Danielle and Bridget.
Keith and I drank the entire bottle alone in his room. When it was gone, we kissed until I stopped caring about Danielle, then we both went to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.
June 6th
The house is basically secure. We have water, a car, and a place to sleep that keeps us dry and safe. What else do we need? Keith and I made a list:
Vodka
More vodka
Other types of liquor if possible (Not just for fun - for sanitizing wounds and stuff, too)
Food
Tools for growing our own food (hoes, rakes, shovels)
Medication
Rain gear
Boots
Weapons
Some of the things we’ll be okay without, of course. It’s more of a wish list than anything else, but what I wish for most of all is that the damn apocalypse had never happened.
What I wish for most of all is that Danielle was okay.
What I wish for is that things had been fine. My life pre-zombies was a boring one. I went to school, drove home for family events, and worked way too many hours.
What do I have now, though?
Survival.
I have sweat and tears and death.
I have a hungry ache in my belly from never getting enough food.
I have clothes that are too big for me because I’ve lost so much weight.
When the infection first started, I used to be scared of the Infected. I was afraid they’d touch me, that I’d catch what they have. I was afraid that I would turn.
But now that I’ve survived for a little while, I know that there are worse things than turning.
June 10th
The school we went to today wasn’t very big. I mean, it was no one-room schoolhouse or anything, but still, it wasn’t really what you expect when you heard the word “school.”
It was just a one-story, flat, rectangular building with zombies all around it. By “all around,” I mean there were about 20 we could see. Who knew how many there were that we couldn’t see? Maybe they would be lurking in the shadows. Maybe there would even be little-kid zombies. None of us knew.
The only thing we knew was that we needed to get out of the house and burn off steam. Even Bridget came today. She wanted to check the school nurse’s office for an inhaler and some other first aid supplies. Personally, I think we should try to find a doctor’s office next. They usually have those little prescription samples the companies give them. She could definitely get some good asthma drugs there. Just saying.
Armed with baseball bats, we walked around and killed off the zombies that were mulling around in the parking lot. They’re dumb and slow, so they really aren’t that hard to kill in small numbers. You just swing and hit. Swing and hear the thud. The crunch of their skulls, the spurts of their blood, the destruction of their heads. Swing again. And again. And again. Soon they fall, then you swing again, another loud crunch. Then it's over.
It's becoming my new normal.
We each killed our five Infected before going inside the school. It took Bridget the longest. I blame her asthma, but maybe I just killed my zombies so quickly because I’m still angry at the world.
Yeah, Danielle killed herself, but I don’t really blame her.
Sometimes I wish we had done it together.
Like I could ever tell anyone, though.
No one would understand. Not even Keith.
Part of me wishes I wasn't such a pussy. Maybe I'm too scared of what comes after to do anything about my pain now. Maybe I'm too afraid that there's nothing else, nothing in the great beyond, nothing but this.
If Danielle had given me the chance to die with her, I would like to think I would have.
But I don't know.
Anyway, the school was empty once we got inside. We were all covered in blood and sweat by the time we got in there. I couldn’t do it so I took my clothes off and just walked around in my underwear. Keith told me that was stupid. He said a zombie was going to jump out and without even the thin fabric barrier, I’d definitely get bitten.
“I’m not wearing their blood,” I told him. Then that was that. When we found the teacher’s lounge, I found a man’s button-down shirt and I put it on. It came down to my thighs, giving me a little bit of modesty. “Happy now?” I asked Keith, but he didn’t think it was funny.
We walked in pairs through the school, seeing if there was anything worth taking. We managed to find batteries and some snacks. I couldn’t believe how many teachers kept chocolate bars in their desks, but heck yes, I will take them. In the principal’s office, we found a bottle of scotch. Yeah. Took that, too.
Bridget managed to get her inhaler needs met in the nurse’s office. She found three inhalers, which will last her a long time. We also found some pain medication (nothing prescription, but whatever) and some bottles of water.
We didn’t stay long. We were pretty quiet when we killed the zombies, but anyone could have heard. We all know there are plenty of survivors out there. Sometimes we see signs of them, whether it be litter on the ground that wasn’t there before or gang signs or just find a random dead Infected. That’s always the creepiest for me: finding a dead zombie that I didn’t kill.
But even though there are other survivors, this doesn’t mean we want to attract attention to ourselves. If there’s one thing to know about the apocalypse, it’s that you really can’t trust anyone outside your group. Sometimes you can’t even trust people who are inside your group, but most of the time, it’s just the outsiders.
I remember going to church as a kid and hearing that you should always help people in need. It’s hard to shed that idea. When the infection first started, so many people were reaching out to others, trying to help. Most of those people are dead.
The world is different now. You can’t do that unless you want to die. Helping someone is usually about the same as sacrificing yourself for them, so you’d better be really sure. Are they worth dying for? Are they worth coming back for? Do you really want to roam around as a zombie?
I don’t.
When we got back to the house, none of us really spoke. The gas tank is on “E.” We won’t be going out again without a new car. I have a feeling that’s going to be our next excursion.
June 11th
Last night, after I finished writing, Keith came into the room and got into bed without a word. I was still wearing the button-down from the school. I took it off and climbed under the blankets with him. We just held each other for a long time until we both fell asleep.
Sometimes I don’t know what I would do without him.
He’s my anchor.
June 12th
The first green shoots in our garden appeared! It was celebrating all around. We shared the scotch we found in the principal’s office at the school the other day. It burned the whole way down, but damn, was it perfect.
None of us has ever planted much before. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Bridget usually comes out and weeds, but today I was happy to help her. It gave me something mindless to do, something to focus my energy on besides running.
Weeding in and of itself isn't difficult. The hard part is figuring out which shoots are the good ones, the ones that we planted, and which ones are the weeds. I'm guessing things will be easier next year. They have to be, right?
Now that we've got som
e food growing, it's time for us to focus more on finding fresh sources of food. When winter comes, we won't be growing, and there aren't exactly trucks coming to load up our local grocery store. Winters in Kansas aren't horrible, but they aren't easy, either.
We need to start stocking up.
We made a plan to start going out a few times a week. We'll go in pairs of two. Whoever stays behind can have garden duty and water-hauling duty. Whoever goes will find as much as they can. Our first problem, though, is going to be finding a car with gas in it. As it is, there are still a few houses within walking distance, I'd guess, so we're going to start there.
Tomorrow it's me and Keith.
Just the two of us.
What could possibly go wrong?
June 13th
We're alive.
Maybe barely, but we're alive.
When the infection came, I was surprised just how smelly people are in real life. When you strip away the deodorant, the perfume, the body wash, and the societal expectations of cleanliness, people are downright nasty.
Living with two other girls for months was really gross. I won't get into details, but just suffice it to say that girls need their showers. Frequently. Especially during their "special time" each month. I always thought that my roommates were pretty gross, and yes, I say that knowing full well that I smell just as bad as they did.
None of that compares to the undead.
Or to the dead.
I told Keith that I'm beginning to think I can smell the zombies before I hear them or see them. Is that even possible? Is that even a thing? He didn’t seem to think I was crazy. He just sort of nodded, like he understood.
Keith is a man of few words, but I don’t care. It’s not like there’s anything to say. When I used to date, we’d always spend the first few get-togethers learning about each other. Where did you grow up? What is your major? What do you like to do? Do your parents live nearby?
Stories in a Lost World: Kristy Page 1
