Tags: blog like it's the end of the world

modigliani

The End II

Been watching everything from the balcony. Have a torch and a camera with a powerful zoom lens. Saw them at the bottom gate of the allotments. Wondered if staying in the allotments (generators, water, plants, everything gated and locked) might have been a better idea, but not. Some swarmed over the top of the gate, others ripped the wire from it and up the hill they climbed. Maybe they've seen me, sat like a fly in a jug on the 4th floor. Maybe not. Not yet.

Some people here have hunting rifles - not many, though. There are tonnes of exams to sit before you get a licence here, for one thing. I hear the occasional shot. Sounds of cats in pain. Now and then a human screaming or yelling. Fire engines out, but not the rescue copter - where would they land/get more fuel? Where would they rescue people to? Dunno if fires are being put out or if they're using trucks to slam into the horrors.

Breaking glass now. From down below? From the lobby? Power is back on intermittently and maybe there is still some oil in the boiler room left over from winter, if I could get to it. Not certain how strong the front door here is nor yet the lock - that could be the important part. Don't have any knives of note. Am surrounded by crap. Wish I wasn't alone or could speak to people one last time, if this is it. Is this them coming up the stairs? Or just neighbours? I could wait by the peephole...

I'll likely go down without a fight, but on my own terms if I have to. So hard to judge... I feel so helpless.
modigliani

The End

I'm not going to run. I never could run and now I'm more out of shape than ever. Why would I suddenly be able to run? I'm clumsy, too. I'd only trip and fall and then they'd be upon me. How undignified. I might as well try to keep my dignity.

I might kill myself or at least give it a try. Waiting is a killer, but I don't want to do it out of ennui. Can there be such a thing as ennui when the chief emotion is terror? Actually, it's not terror that I feel so much as dread. Pessimistic, gnawing dread. I have no energy for terror any longer and I can't just run on adrenalin. When I hear them coming, shambling, moaning and rending, then I'll kill myself. I won't become one of them and I won't submit to their ministrations. Never.

I wish he'd come back or that I could at least know that he's safe and alive. Or if he's gone. I want to go out and find him, but I know that would be stupid. Hope he has sense too. Oh my family! Phones not working. I'm being morbid again. That does no good.

Thank heavens we'd just done a big shop. Dunno how long we'll have power or water, mind. I've filled every container we have with water. Fluid's important. Wish I had some whisky or something. I bet that the supermarkets were dreadful. The town looks dead, apart from the occasional smoke plume rising. Neighbours won't answer their doors. Made me feel that I should be at home too. Wonder if there are idiots looting. Probably.

Hope this ends soon. Hope it's survivable. Pray it's survivable and... the power has gone out. Time to sleep if I can. Time to wait and hope and pray.

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No, I haven't lost my mind. Written for this and indicated by the fabulous betty_baker.