I walked the two miles to the ocean this morning. Carmel Valley is a strange mix of posh mini mansions and tiny remodeled cabins, like the one I’d claimed. Big money and country living, rolled into one. I would have never been able to afford a place near here, before. With a bachelor’s degree in English; surprise, surprise, I wasn’t able to land a six figure job. Mostly, I subbed at Chestervin Elementary. A job where you pray someone gets knocked up or commits a felony and gets fired just so you might have a steady paycheck for a few months.
On my tedious walk down to the shoreline through that deep, loose sand, I caught the familiar scent of death. Turned out to be a washed up seal carcass though. I think a shark got him. Damn, I miss watching shark week. That smell wasn’t a far leap from the plaguer’s scent. To me, they all reek like rotten hamburger wrapped in stinky foot cheese. A distinct odor that sticks to the back of your throat.
I found an outcropping of big rocks that I’m set up on. It’s great, except for the small nub of stone that is jabbing into my right bum cheek and I’ve caught nothing. I throw my line out and it just drifts back in with the waves. I think I’m doing it wrong. I found this giant fishing pole with a lure already attached, but I don’t know… I take it back, I’ve caught at least five giant wads of kelp and my arms are killing me. I’m writing right now just to give them a break.
The view can’t be beat. I get why people would be willing to pay millions to live on the edge of this Eden. It’s like the blue just goes on forever. I’m enjoying the constant noise of the waves too; a welcomed break from the deafening silence life has become.
Almost forgot to tell you about George. He’s a pustule covered gentleman that has been eyeing me from afar. By eyeing, I mean singular. He has one eye. Also no nose, and a dangling ear, but you know what they say about beggars and choosers and whatnot. I know the man’s name because it’s conveniently sown on the pocket of his shirt. The other pocket reads, “Plumb Fancy”. A ridiculous name for a plumbing company if you ask me, but the rich folk probably ate it up. So back to George who has been giving me the googly eye for a couple of hours now, trying to trudge through the sand and failing hilariously. He gets up, he falls. He walks a step, then face plants. Really, I’m kind of feeling bad for the guy now. I’m still laughing but there’s a smidge of empathy there. Still not going to offer myself up, but I do give him a gold star for effort. Well I’m going back to fishing, wish me luck.
Shit just got shittier and I’m in a fucking tree again!
Okay, so I came back to my squatter cabin tonight, after attempting to fish and I walk through the back door, right into the kitchen. Sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen bar, are three rather raunchy looking men. They all had full beards and they all had unfortunately forgotten how a bath works. I stared a second in shock and they let the food (that was mine if you went by finders keepers rules) fall out of their mouths. Being a smart woman, I ran. They had to fumble around the counter to follow me, so I got a head start.
By instinct, I immediately shimmied up the biggest tree I could find. A pine only a few hundred yards from the cabin. At least this time I have food and water. Unfortunately, I left my sleeping bag in the house this morning. So I have only a sweatshirt to keep me warm. It was a rookie move to leave it behind and I have a feeling this night is going to teach me a lesson. Also, I’m fairly certain I have a sunburn. It just keeps getting better.
Right now, I’m watching the three stooges tromp around in the bushes calling creepy soothing comments like, ” Come out honey and we won’t hurt you.” and “We can all be friends if you play nice!” In what fucking world would that work to placate me into giving myself up. I’m not really worried, they’re kind of morons. I’m seriously just waiting for a group of plaguers to come in and take care of the problem; shouldn’t be long with all the noise. Also, not one of them has thought to look up. I mean, I don’t want them to see me.. but damn; show some intelligence fellas.
Better news, the moonlight is awesome tonight and there’s an owl in the next tree over. I could do without the damp fog but I’m happy that there’s enough light to write by. Otherwise I’d be stuck up here with nothing to do but listen to their riveting conversation on why Jerry thinks canned peas taste like dirt. Jerry who is thin and bald, argues with Tom, who is more on the tubby side, that they put pepper in the cans and it turns to dirt in the water. The third guy, Manny, who I’d guess is an ex-con yells “Just shut the fuck up and find the bitch.” He then thoroughly insults the other men’s intelligence before informing them that it’s because peas grow underground. Oh man, these guys should be taken out of the gene pool now before repopulation begins.
The one time you want the plague fuckers to show and they let you down. The men have given up the search. It’s been three hours, way longer than I would have bet. Thinking about it though, they probably haven’t had a lady in a while and are fairly desperate. I’m going to have to watch my back now. These idiot’s aren’t going to stop looking all together. Time again to move along. I’ll wait till they shut off their lights, then I’ll wait some more. Then go. As they say in Cali, “See ya later dudes.” Uh.. sorry about that, I’d erase it if this wasn’t in pen. Bye.
More to come……
A great blogging writer, Paul E. Bailey has asked to write a sister story to my ApocalypseDiary. It’s written in a different style and in a different place but these stories share time and Zombie population. Please give this awesome story a read and continue to follow the characters adventures! Thank you.😊