Ex-Communication e-3

by Peter Clines

  “Danielle knew immediately.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

  Like That George Romero Movie

  Then

  July 28th, 2009

  Dear Diary,

  My eyes opened when I heard the gunshot and the bullet hit the ground six inches in front of me. The sand poofed up and everything, just like on TV.

  I know that sounds kind of staged, but it was really just like that. Eyes open, poof . I almost peed my pants. I’ve never been shot at before. It’s scary as hell.

  Dad warned us stuff like this might happen. Some people weren’t doing well with the zombies. That’s one of the reasons calling them exes stuck. It was a psychology thing. He told me the term for it, but I don’t remember.

  Anyway, he said some people just went crazy. They were shooting at anyone they thought was a zombie or who they thought might be infected with the ex-virus that made them into zombies. Other people were shooting at people to get whatever food and stuff they had, or because they thought they were coming to take their stuff. And some people were just shooting at anything that moved. It was all pretty stupid. It was like everyone’s IQ dropped forty points just because they were scared.

  Writing it out makes it sound like I was all uber-cool and everything, like it was just a game or something. Bullets whizzing around me and I sat there thinking about psychology and stuff. The truth is, a second bullet made my hair move and I just ran. I rolled over two or three times and crawled on my hands and knees until I got to my feet and then I ran as hard as I could. Being on the track team finally paid off.

  I think I realized then that I only had one shoe on, but all I could really think about was running away from the gunshots.

  I ran maybe a hundred yards and saw a n zombie ex-person.

  Dad says it’s better to call them ex-people, no matter what. They aren’t zombies, he says, because zombies are made-up sci-fi things and exes are real.

  I’m doing it again. I’m writing stuff like I was really cool and calm but I was screaming and running around. It’s been four hours now and I think I’m hidden pretty good. I know I should try to be more organized.

  Okay, so I was running away from the gunshots and I ran into an ex-person. It was a girl about my age, but she had blond hair. She was walking away from me, so I don’t think she saw me. Well, I know she didn’t see me, because I skittered away and hid behind some bushes and rocks and stuff and she didn’t follow me.

  I hid there for maybe a minute and then I heard something and realized there was another zom ex-person coming from the other direction and this one was looking right at me. So I got up and ran again. It was like that for two or three hours at least. I’d run and stop and there’d be another ex, so I’d run again. I’m lucky I’m in good shape. If I hadn’t been a runner already I would’ve gotten tired and they would’ve gotten me. There were so many of them.

  I think I’ve found a safe place for now. After running around for a while I found some tall rocks. There were one or two exes around them, but none up on them. I don’t think exes are good climbers. I ran between two of them and got up here. I looked around and found a nice little space between some boulders. It’s like a little canyon with one entrance. I can put my back to the wall and watch the opening. I think I could shimmy up to the top if I needed to get out, too.

  I’m not sure where the place I woke up is from here. I was just running around dodging zombies for so long and I didn’t keep track of directions. It could be right by this rock or miles away. I ran a half-marathon right after New Year’s and I think I ran at least that much getting away from all the exes.

  I got up on top of the rocks and looked in all directions, but I don’t see any lights. I don’t see any lights anywhere except the stars and the moon.

  I don’t know how I ended up here. I mean, out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere here. I remember I was in the car with Mom—we were going to meet up with Dad somewhere safe—and then I woke up and someone was shooting at me. I don’t remember falling asleep, or even being sleepy.

  My clothes are shredded!!! Really totaled. Janine has those retro rocker jeans she wears sometimes with like two dozen rips and tears in them, but they still cover more than my pants do right now. The seat of my jeans is gone and my ass is hanging out. No wonder I’m cold. I wish I’d listened to Mom and not worn a thong.

  My shirt and coat aren’t much better. One of my sneakers is gone and the one that’s left is all sticky with something black. My bra is more or less in one piece, so my tits aren’t on display. Not much, anyway.

  The coat has big pockets. The left one is torn open. It had some lip gloss, my house keys, and my phone. They’re gone. The other one had my diary and two pens. I’ve still got those, obviously.

  It’s like someone let a bunch of dogs play with my clothes while I was out cold and then dressed me back up in them. I’m wearing rags. And I’ve got sand in a bunch of itchy places from rolling around on the ground but I really don’t want to take my clothes off so I can shake them out, even though there’s nobody around.

  OMG Todd in sixth-period English would jizz himself if he saw me like this!!!

  God, I actually wish that little creeper was here. Or anyone. I’d rather have someone staring at my tits and ass than just being out here alone.

  I’ve got no idea where Mom is. We were supposed to be together, that’s all I can remember. Dad wanted us safe and together.

  I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where they are. I don’t have any food or water. I barely have clothes.

  I need to figure out what I’m going to do next.

  July 28th, 2009

  Dear Diary,

  There’s enough light from the moon to write this, so I’ll try to get it all in order.

  I woke up and I didn’t know where I was.

  I was between some big rocks out in the middle of nowhere. All my clothes are ripped up so much I’m almost naked. One of my shoes is gone.

  I don’t know how I ended up here. I remember I was in the car with Mom—we were supposed to be joining Dad somewhere safe—and then I woke up tucked in between these rocks. I don’t even remember falling asleep.

  Writing it like that makes me sound calm and stuff, but really I kind of freaked out. I mean, WTF waking up somewhere different. Realizing maybe people did stuff to you. It didn’t feel like anyone had

  I crawled out between the rocks and ducked back in. There were a couple of zombies ex-people out there. They didn’t see me. I tried to remember some of the reports I’d seen, and I don’t think they look around much. I was high enough up they wouldn’t notice me if I didn’t make too much noise.

  How did I end up out here—wherever the hell here is—with the zombies???

  My bra covers more than a bikini top, so I took what was left of my shirt off and used it to cover my ass. It’s my little butt-cape right now. I figured I still had what’s left of my coat to keep the sun off my top.

  I took off my shoe, too, and tied it onto one of my belt loops with the laces. I might as well keep it in case I find the other one. Socks in the sand will be okay for now. I didn’t want to be lopsided if I had to run.

  The big pocket on the left side of my coat got torn open somewhere. I’ve lost my phone, plus my keys and some lip gloss. I looked around but couldn’t find them anywhere. The other pocket’s still fine. It had my diary (I’m writing in it) and some pens (I’m writing with one of them).

  I climbed up on top of the boulder and looked around. I couldn’t see anything in any direction. It was so bright my eyes hurt. I wish I had sunglasses. I had to squint and shade them just to see anything. But there’s no buildings or cities or anything as far as I could see. Just sand and dirt and a few zombies exes wandering here and there.

  Dad says it’s better to call them ex-people. They aren’t zombies, he says, because zombies are made-up things in movies and exes are real.

  There were only two or three of them around the rocks I was on. It was pret
ty easy to time it so they were all on the other side when I ran. I got away and decided to head west. I figured I’d hit a road and I’d be able to wave down a car or something. I was pretty sure someone would stop for an almost-naked teenage girl in the desert.

  I think it was around noon when I found the car. The sun was pretty high up in the sky. I saw tracks first and followed those for a little bit. The car was a big SUV. A Land Rover or something. It had New Mexico license plates. The driver’s door was open and there was a woman in the driver’s seat. The zomb ex-people had eaten a lot of her. I only know it was a woman because of her clothes and hair. Her face was gone down to the bones and they’d eaten her boobs and her stomach and her th

  I found her purse. There was a New Mexico license with a picture of a woman with the same color hair as the corpse. Her name was Bernard, Sarah J. She was nine years older than me.

  How did I end up in New Mexico?!?!?!?

  I looked in the back of the car. There weren’t any bags or suitcases or anything. She didn’t have anything with her. Just her and the car.

  I think Sarah J. Bernard pulled off the main road to get away from exes. Maybe she thought she’d be safe out in the middle of nowhere. She drove until her SUV was out of gas and then the exes got her anyway.

  That doesn’t make sense, though. Things aren’t that bad, and they’ve got the National Guard and the Army out taking care of these things. Heck, all the superheroes are out fighting them. Gorgon and the Mighty Dragon and all those guys are cleaning up the West Coast, and Dad said they’ve even just sent this super-armor woman out there, too.

  So why did Sarah J. Bernard drive out into the middle of the desert to be safe??? Without any food or clothes or anything???

  And another thing. Her car was all dusty. There was sand on the hood and it had blown into the front seat. It was like it had been sitting there for a couple weeks.

  Then I did the ick thing. It still creeps me out, thinking about it.

  When they ate killed her, it looks like they pulled her shirt open. So her shirt’s still good it’s just stained and dirty. I poked her with a stick a few times to make sure she wasn’t an ex. Then I undid her seat belt and pulled her out of the car. She’d been in the sun so long she didn’t smell bad. Her skin was kinda dry. I tried not to touch it.

  The shirt still had two buttons on it, near the top. I think the rest popped off when it got pulled open. It’s not great, but it’s better than nothing. Better than what I had. Which was pretty much nothing. I rolled her over and got it off her arms and then I rubbed it in the sand for a while to try to clean the ick off it. Some of it was still sticky.

  The shirt’s small in the shoulders. I couldn’t take her pants. I know I needed them but she died in them and they smelled like old piss and shit and I didn’t want them on me. I could live with my butt-cape for now.

  Why is everything old and dusty? I think I might have traveled in time. I’m in the future or something.

  I thought about staying in the car, but there was still a lot of daylight left. And I could follow Sarah J. Bernard’s tracks back to a road or freeway or something.

  I walked for another seven or eight hours. I had to hide from exes a couple times, but I saw them before they saw me. They’re pretty dumb. I don’t know how so many people have gotten bitten.

  I found a couple bushes with a little space between them where I can hide. I’m going to spend the night here. There’s something near the horizon that might be a freeway, five or six miles away. I could probably make it, I’m not that tired, but I don’t want to wander into a zomb ex-person at night when I might trip over them.

  I’ll head for the freeway in the morning. I’ve got to figure out where Mom went.

  July 28th, 2009

  Dear Diary,

  Today’s been really freaky.

  Yesterday, Mom and I were going to meet Dad. Today, I woke up in some bushes in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know where I am.

  I don’t know where Mom is.

  I woke up wearing a shirt that wasn’t mine or hers. It was missing buttons and had blood on it. A lot of blood.

  My clothes were all ripped up. My coat was shredded and my pants were a mess. Janine has those retro rocker jeans with two dozen rips and tears in them, but they still cover more than my pants did. My shirt was tied around my waist and if it wasn’t my ass would’ve been hanging out for everyone to see—the seat of my jeans was ripped out. Mom was right. I shouldn’t wear thongs.

  One of my sneakers was tied to my jeans. It’s got something dark and sticky all over it. I think it’s blood, too. I couldn’t find the other sneaker anywhere. I was just wearing socks. They’re dirty, like I’ve been walking in them for a long time.

  My phone’s gone. That pocket was ripped open. So I can’t call for help or use my GPS. I lost my house keys and some lip gloss, too. My diary (Hello!) was in the other pocket with two pens.

  There were a couple zom exes nearby when I woke up, but none of them seemed to notice me. I saw some reports saying they don’t look around much. If you didn’t happen to be in their field of view, you didn’t exist. I guess I was lucky none of their heads were turned enough this way.

  Off in the distance, to the west, was something that looked like a road. Maybe a freeway. It was a dark line just a little bit above the ground. There were some tire tracks near the bushes leading off that way. I had to wait a few minutes, but eventually all the exes were facing away from me and I could slip out of the bushes. I got scratched up by the branches, but not bad enough to bleed.

  It took me four hours to reach the highway. I could’ve made it faster but I had to crouch down a couple times and hide from some exes. I didn’t think there were this many of them. Maybe it’s just wherever I am. Maybe I’m near one of the cities that got hit bad with the virus.

  The road is two lanes. Dotted yellow line. No street signs. No cars. If it wasn’t built up a little bit I never would’ve seen it. I decided to head north. I’m pretty sure I’m in the Southwest. That’s where Mom and I were heading. So there’s more of the country north of me.

  I walked for another five hours before I found the car. It’s a Mini Cooper. A red one. Dad said he’d get me one just like it if I graduated with an A average.

  It has Arizona license plates. The doors were open. There were no people. No bodies. Dead ones or not-dead ones. I checked under it and in the ditch next to the road. No blood or anything, either. Someone just stopped his car in the middle of the road and wandered away. Or ran away.

  There was a duffel bag full of clothes in the backseat. They were men’s clothes, and they were a little too big for me, but it was better than what I had. Jeans, T-shirt, flannel, socks. I had to roll the cuffs up on the jeans. Whoever owned the Mini wore boxer-briefs, which felt a little funny but comforting after having my ass hanging out all day.

  I changed right there next to the car. There wasn’t anyone around for miles, not even exes, but it still felt kind of scary and naughty and sexy. Outside in broad daylight with all my clothes off.

  No shoes. I took my one sneaker off my rag-jeans and tied them to the new ones.

  I found a bathroom kit in the duffel bag. I wasn’t going to use someone else’s toothbrush, but I figured the toothpaste was better than nothing. There were some eyedrops, which is great because my eyes have been killing me.

  There was a whole box of food, too. Lots of cans and some granola bars and bottled water and stuff. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw it. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime yesterday. There was a can of pork and beans and I thought it would be good comfort food. I knew they were something I could eat cold, too. Mom and Dad liked to cook out in the summer and we’d have beans with hot dogs and hamburgers. And then Dad would tell me gross stories about all the stuff in hot dogs.

  But the beans had started to go bad and tasted awful. All I could eat was the pork. Which was kind of gross cold but still a lot better than the beans. It doesn’t make s
ense, the beans going bad before the meat, but a lot of stuff isn’t making sense today. I still ate all of it I could dig out of the can and then brushed my teeth with my finger and some toothpaste.

  It was pretty close to sundown by then, so I decided I’d spend the night in the car. I can fold the passenger seat all the way back and use a sweatshirt as a pillow. I’m writing this by moonlight because there’s not even enough power in the battery to turn on the dome light.

  Where am I? Where’s Mom?

  July 28th, 2009 August 1st, 2009

  Dear Diary,

  Okay, this is messed up. I sat down tonight to write about all the freaky stuff that happened today. I mean, I woke up in a strange car wearing someone else’s clothes—different UNDERWEAR —and that’s not the messed-up thing.

  Normally I just flip to the first empty page of my diary and start to write, but tonight I looked back through it and there are three entries that all say it’s July 28th and I don’t remember writing any of them. More to the point, I’m sure today is July 28th because yesterday was the day Mom and I were going to go meet Dad, the 27th.

  I woke up in a red Mini Cooper. I don’t remember falling asleep in it, but the last entry in the diary is about finding a red Mini Cooper with clothes and food in it. Mom wasn’t there but all three entries talk about her vanishing. There was a bloody shirt in the car and there’s one entry about finding a dead woman and taking her shirt—EWWW—and one mentions tossing it for the clothes here in the Mini. There was a half-full can of pork and beans on the side of the road and an entry about eating pork and beans. Well, pork. And the can looked like all beans when I checked it. They smelled bad.

  I don’t remember writing any of that. It’s pretty clear in each one I don’t remember the one before it. So if I thought it was the 28th for three days in a row, then today must be the first of August.

  Unless there were days I didn’t write in my diary and I can’t remember them, either. But each one seems to begin where the last one ends, even if I didn’t remember it then.