Stories in a Lost World: Bridget
L.C. Mortimer
For the boy who never gave up on me
Copyright: L.C. Mortimer
Published: 15th 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.
Bridget 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 first book in a 3-part series.*
Contents
March
April
Author's Note
Author
Other Books by L.C.
March
March 15th
Kristy is the one who found the notebooks. There are three of them, all worn out and beaten up. Just like us. Three composition notebooks that would have once been used to take notes on subjects no one cares about, but now they're ours.
I don't really feel like writing.
Even before the plague, before the infection, writing was never my thing. Before the world went to hell in a hand basket and came back as cannibals, I didn't like to write.
Unfortunately for me, there's nothing else to do in this dead world, so here I am.
It's been about a month since the infection started, give or take. A month of living in our tiny little house, eating canned chili, and playing board games that we're now completely sick of. A month. I don't even know what to say about all that. Our day-to-day is boring and pointless. We're all just sitting around waiting to die. Worst of all is that we know it.
Before everyone got sick, I was studying to be a teacher. Cliche? Absolutely. I don't really care. It's not that I'm dumb or that I believe education will change the world. None of that. I just always liked my teachers growing up and thought, you know, why not give something back to the world?
Well, now the world is giving plenty back to me and it comes in the form of decaying mass and people I used to know. Thanks a lot, world.
I still have my textbooks, of course. The world hasn't been dead that long. I thought, for awhile, that maybe things would get under control. I thought for awhile that maybe everything would go back to normal, back to the way that it was. So far, it hasn't.
But I kept the textbooks because, you know, what if I wanted to read them? What if everything was suddenly set straight again and I needed them for school? But it's been a month now. I don't think the lights are coming back on.
March 16th
Last night, the girls and I were talking. We were talking about what we want to do with the rest of our lives. Kristy wants to move on. She thinks we should leave town. I'm not really sure why. No, nothing's happening here, but isn't that the point? There are only like, five zombies left here, and a couple of random groups of survivors. She's worried that the other survivors are going to go crazy on us.
Danielle agrees.
Not me.
It probably sounds stupid, but I mean, what if my parents come looking for me? What if they're still alive? I'd rather be in the same quiet town at the same rural community college so that they can find me.
The girls tell me that I'm stupid, that it's wishful thinking. Part of me knows that they're right. My parents are probably long dead, along with the rest of the world. Where's the good in thinking like that, though? Where's the hope? Where's the joy?
Yeah, I know. Go ahead and laugh, o journal of mine. It doesn't matter anyway. Kristy is the one who found the house to rent, so we all kind of look to her for guidance. In some ways, she's our queen bee, our leader. In others, she's just Kristy.
I don't really want to leave, but honestly, the other girls might not give me much of a choice.
March 17th
Something happened last night, but none of us are really sure what. Kristy and Danielle were right in thinking that the other survivors were going to be our downfall. They were right, and I was stupid. Being hopeful is going to be my demise. I can already tell.
There aren't many of us left in town, just a few small groups. Most of it is college students, though. We all live in this one part of town and somehow, the infection didn't get us. Maybe because we were all passed out from partying when the infection first started? Maybe it's because none of us felt it necessary to get the stupid Artovax anti-aids vaccine. I dunno. All I know is that most of us were fine, so we stayed put.
Last night, everything changed. It started when darkness fell, maybe around 7:00pm. I'm not really sure. I don't have a watch anymore. That's just my guess. There was a knock at the door. Kristy stayed calm and collected as she went to answer it. We knew it couldn't be anything too bad, right? The undead don't knock.
It wasn't anyone dead. It was some annoying frat guy and his "brothers." The guy told Kristy that he wanted our food. She told him to fuck off, so he slapped her. The other guys laughed and he told her she could think about it. He'd be back tomorrow with his friends, and if we didn't give him our supplies, there'd be a much bigger "price" than just a slap.
We basically had two options. We could stay and try to fight, which was probably not going to work. First of all, none of us has any combat training. Danielle was going to join the Air Force, but she chickened out at the last minute. Kristy says she played sports in high school, but it's not like she took martial arts. And me? My asthma is so bad that I'm lucky to make it across the house without wheezing.
That only leaves option two: leave.
We all tossed and turned all night, trying to decide what to do, but Kristy woke us up before dawn.
"We're leaving," she told me. She had made the decision easy. She threw me a backpack and left the room, leaving me alone. So I packed.
It's weird, when you think about it: the idea of packing your entire world in a small bag. So much of our lives are in our homes. There's so much that won't fit neatly into a bag, especially when you also want to pack a change of clothes and a knife.
There wasn't much food left, so I didn't worry about that. Instead I packed my favorite photo album, an extra pair of shoes that fit me, some socks, a teddy bear, and a box of pads. I threw in an extra inhaler and the secret candy bar I'd been saving. I also packed this journal with two extra pens.
Then it was time to clear out the kitchen and leave.
Like I said, there wasn't much food left. Just a few cans of soup and a box of crackers. We had a couple of water bottles left from a recent scavenging trip, but that was it.
Now I'm tired. I'll write more later.
March 18th
We managed to leave before the guys came back. Lucky us. Who knows what the hell they've done to our house? I hope they didn't do anything weird, like go through our underwear drawers or sleep in our beds. Somehow, I know I'm probably not so lucky.
Kristy is the one most familiar with this area of Kansas. She grew up here. She's practically a local. An orphaned local, but a local nonetheless. Me? I'm from Colorado. Everything here is foreign to me and makes no sense at all, but what can you do?
We left town, heading east, down a little abandoned highway that leads to nowhere. We didn't have any specific place we were going. We just wanted to get away from the creeps
who were going to rape us if we stayed. We all realize how lucky it was that we got out. We all realize that not everyone has the same privilege of being able to leave.
Walking sucks.
My feet hurt, my head hurts, and my eyes hurt. I don't know how Kristy and Danielle do it without complaining. I'm definitely the whiner of the group, but it comes with the territory. I was always the dork who wanted to be a teacher. My roomies treated me like a crybaby, so I became one.
Not really.
I'm just tired.
We walked for hours, stopped and ate some cold fucking soup, and started walking again. Just when it was starting to get dark, Kristy guided us off the main highway and down a side road. It's all gravel and dirt roads off the highway. That's fine. We managed to find an old farmhouse that looked abandoned. Just to play it safe, we decided to sleep in the barn. I want to save my flashlight battery, so that's all for now.
March 19th
When we got up, we were all sore. Who wouldn't be after sleeping in a barn all night? The sides of the building were practically falling down. Didn't hear any undead, but that doesn't mean much. They can be quiet when they want to be. You have to be on your guard at all times. That's what I've learned.
"Come on," Kristy said. She guided us out of the barn and we looked at the farmhouse for the first time. There's no way we could stay here. Firstly, it was too close to the highway. If we were gonna stay somewhere, it couldn't be so close. We've all seen way too many movies to believe that bandits aren't real. Plus, our weapons suck. Knives? Get real.
The other problem was that there were no cars at the house and it looked like no one had lived there in years. The first floor windows were all intact and covered in dust.
"Let's see if there's any food, at least," Danielle said, eyeing me. She knew I was going to complain, like I always do, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Not this time. Not when I was fucking starving.
"Good idea," I smiled sweetly and she looked shocked. It was totally worth it. I hate being the fussy one in the group, but someone has to do it.
We walked around the house twice, trying to figure out the best way to get inside. Finally, I decided to be the brave one and I checked under all the mats until I found a key. Voila. I unlocked the front door and we marched right on in.
Right into the arms of Mrs. Zombie.
The old woman was waiting for us. Maybe she smelled us, I don't know. All I know is that I screamed before I could stop myself, before I could think not to attract other zombies. Luckily, the woman was old and decaying and from the way she was missing her hands, I would guess she had been pawing at the front door for a long time, trying to get out.
Her skin and bones were gone up to her wrists. That's how long she'd been trying, and they were all over the back of the front door.
Fuckin' nasty.
We just had knives, but Kristy managed to get around the woman and kicked her out the front door. Booted her right in the ass. The woman fell onto the porch and laid there, moaning the way zombies do. Danielle took the opportunity to stab the woman in the back of the head a couple of times until the moans stopped.
Personally, I hate killing them unless I absolutely have to. It still feels too much like killing a person, which is awful. No thanks. I'll pass. Unfortunately, you really do have to kill them quickly. Otherwise, their squeals and moans will attract the other ones, and then you'll die.
Science.
We walked around the house. It seemed to be in pretty good shape, except for its frustrating proximity to the highway. The cupboards were practically full, so we took our fill, eating as much chili as we could and stuffing crackers and pudding and granola bars into our bags.
We all pinched our noses and I opened the fridge. I knew it would be gross. The stuff people put in fridges, like milk and meat, smell like shit when they've been rotting in place for a month, but I had to see if there was soda.
There was not.
Fuck.
We explored the rest of the house quickly, but there wasn't anything valuable except for a shotgun under the main bed. Kristy took that, as our leader, and carried it proudly. Finally: a real fucking weapon.
March 20th
Walked all day. My feet hurt, my back hurts, my face hurts. Everything sucks.
March 21st
Today we made it to another farmhouse. It was slightly more abandoned than the last one. By "slightly," I mean "completely," which means we can all sleep well tonight.
We're still east of school, east of the stupid fraternity that chased us out of our cozy house, but I suppose that's better. I suppose it's better to be away from civilization as much as possible, right?
The further you are from people, the less they can hurt you.
Danielle, Kristy, and I all explored the house. Unlike the last one, we couldn't just walk in the front door. We broke a window in the back of the house, one that led into the basement. We all kinda thought that this way, no one will notice right away that the glass is broken. Plus, it's easy to hide a ground-level break-in. We can move something, like a large rock, maybe, in front of that spot.
We slipped into the basement and used our flashlights to find the stairs. When we got to the top, we all paused, hoping beyond hope that there would be nothing there.
There wasn't.
When Kristy pushed the door open, I was so happy to be in a home that I almost cried. Seriously, this place is the epitome of home. It's cozy and perfect and it smells nice and everything is pink.
I love it.
March 22nd
We decided to stay at the farmhouse, at least for a little while. Today we took inventory of what's in the house and what we'll have to find or make if we want to keep staying. At the moment, the biggest problem is weapons. We almost never left our first house, the campus rental house. As such, as didn't accumulate weapons the way we should have. We just kinda holed away.
No more.
This house had two small guns upstairs, but there are no bullets. We'll need to find some if we plan to use those to defend the house at any time. The real concern, for me, is target practice. I haven't shot a gun in about five years. What do I know about shooting anymore? The problem with practice is that it costs bullets to practice. That's bullets we don't have. If I try to skip the practice, I could die if I miss a zombie.
Fucked either way.
The good news is that we have enough food to last us for a little while. We can eat like kings and be good for a solid week. If we ration ourselves, we'll probably be good for two. Danielle found some seeds in the garage, so she's all talking about starting a garden.
Kristy isn't sure about that and neither am I.
What are zombies attracted to?
What if the garden brings them here?
We're all a little too nervous and uncomfortable to let our guards down just yet, but I hope that things get better soon.
They have to.
March 23rd
Spent the entire day playing board games. I didn't mind. It was fun. I like Kristy and Danielle. It's been just the tree of us for so long that now we're practically like sisters. The bad thing about that is that we all know every little fault about the other ones.
Me? I'm whiny and I complain a lot. Like, a lot. I'm trying to keep it under control, but it's hard. That and my health issues. Asthma in the apocalypse? Not exactly a super fun time. What can you do, though?
Kristy is bossy as fuck. No, I don't mean she's a good leader. I mean that she's bossy. She orders everyone around all the fucking time. Part of it is my fault because I put her in a position to have to lead us. It still gets tiring. She's getting better, but a lot of times she still slips and doles out orders instead of engaging in rational conversation.
Danielle is nice. That's really all I can say about her. She's sweet, but she's almost too sweet. Like, almost a doormat sweet. She's not. At least, I don't have the impression that she is a doormat, but the potential is there. Danielle is definitely the dreamer
of the group. Kristy gets things done and I drag my feet, but Danielle dreams big.
I just hope it doesn't get us all killed.
March 24th
Still at the farmhouse. What can I say about it? It's big. There is a lot of space. Until today, we'd all been sleeping together in the master bedroom, curled together like a litter of puppies, but we decided that if this thing is going to work, we'll need to get our own bedrooms.
None of us knows how long we want to stay here. I think the hardest part for me is that I feel like I'm trying to make plans in a world where plans don't matter.
It's not like I'm going to college anymore.
Yeah, I held out hope for a long time that things would get better, that they would improve, that there would be a cure, but there's not.
And somehow, I think that even if there was a cure, it wouldn't fix things the way that I want it to.
I will never go back to being the girl who wanted to be a teacher. I can't. That's not who I am anymore. That's not how the world is anymore.
If everything was fixed tomorrow, who would I be?
That's the question I have now and it's all I ever think about.
March 25th
Kristy went on a walk. She said it was to clear her head, but we both know it's so she can vomit in peace. She feels sick and nauseous and doesn't want to be throwing up near the house. I don't think it's because she's afraid of attracting the undead. No, it's because she doesn't want us to know how gross she is. Just kidding.
Danielle and I made her some soup over a little fire. It didn't get insanely hot, but we managed to warm the chicken and noodles so that it's at least edible. When she got back, she drank the soup and thanked us, then spent the rest of the day sleeping.
Stories in a Lost World: Bridget Page 1
