It’s my first full day out of quarantine and Adam finally let me use his computer. Also let me play Minecraft for a little while. Then I try to put my story into type. Still too traumatized to talk. Throat still raw, still feverish and sun burned, but can type.
One morning at dawn I decide it is time for plan C. All my leftover gear in my big backpack (not much, just a couple packets of freeze dried peas), pistol in a belly-band holster, Mini-14 carbine slung over right shoulder. Boken, wooden practice samurai sword, not quite a katana but all I got for close-in work, shoved in a belt loop. And, in my other backpack, slung on my front with just her nose or occasional claw protruding, is my cat Yin, protesting loudly. If my face hadn’t been protected by an incipient beard, she would have slashed it to pieces.
One morning at dawn I decide it is time for plan C. All my leftover gear in my big backpack (not much, just a couple packets of freeze dried peas), pistol in a belly-band holster, Mini-14 carbine slung over right shoulder. Boken, wooden practice samurai sword, not quite a katana but all I got for close-in work, shoved in a belt loop. And, in my other backpack, slung on my front with just her nose or occasional claw protruding, is my cat Yin, protesting loudly. If my face hadn’t been protected by an incipient beard, she would have slashed it to pieces.
It is five miles, as the zombie shuffles, between my place and the zoo. Unfortunately, it is five miles of animated corpses, wrecked cars, blocked roads, potential ambush sites, and a few deranged survivors like me who might shoot anything that moves. But only one mile to the water.
Mornings are the easiest. Most of the plague victims are like old people. The cold and damp really slows them down, their joints congealed. My plan: Move fast, keep them behind me, mow down anything that gets in front of me, and get to the marina. Of course, if there are any runners out this morning, this will be an extremely short, one-way trip.
Doesn’t matter, I think. Better than expiring in a stinking apartment. Better to die in harness, like MacBeth, guns blazing, and then whatever follows, be it oblivion or judgment. And anyway, Yin will have a chance to survive outside without me.