Had a nice chat today with the eclectic old man I mentioned seeing in the woods the other day. Surprisingly named Bob. I introduced myself as Gabe, I decided to stick to using a male name. Usually I give my nickname Gabby, because Gabriella is just too much.
Bob was fearless, he straight up knocked on the cabin door and offered to share his instant coffee. I wasn’t about to pass up coffee in any form, so I let him in. I know a lady needs to be wary but he looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over and is already wise to my being a woman, so I found no harm in it.
Call me a narcissist, but I figured that the first thing Bob would want to talk about was me. Who I am, where I’m from, ect. But no, he just started spouting his opinions on the weather, fishing, hunting, and his creaky knees. I provided the “Oh, really’s” and the polite yes or no, but otherwise I could have been a wall. It did a lot to put me at ease with the old man.
I listened with half a mind while I wondered what kind of life story Bob had. I would bet a million batteries that it was an interesting one. His lined face was happy and expressive, the blue pinstriped suit he wore reflecting his innate sense of style. One of those people that looked cool just because they didn’t give a shit what anyone thought.
He caught my full attention again when he brought up bringing his grandson for his next visit. Said Tim had some questions.
“I don’t know….” I said, unsure of the motive. He held up his hand
“Is it because you’re transitioning to be a man? I have said nothing of it to anyone. So if that’s what’s bothering you, fret not.”
I explained, “No, It’s nothing like that. Im dressed as a man for safety. I’ve learned it’s not smart for a woman to travel alone.”
Bob winked and tapped the side of his nose, “Understood. Mum’s the word, I swear.” He paused in the doorway on his way out, “See you tomorrow at noon? We’ll bring sandwiches, you provide the drinks?” I nodded dumbly and waved goodbye. What have I gotten myself into?
I spent this whole afternoon practicing with my new trusty slingshot. It fits perfectly in my hand and has a smooth pull back. I managed to get a squirrel but it was a dirty deed. There wasn’t enough force in it, so the poor thing twitched on the ground until I finished it off. I would prefer a quick, clean kill but I’m looking forward to fresh meat tonight. I hoped to take the tiny fur into town to trade, but Jim won’t leave it alone. Every time I turn around she is dragging it around the room and staging an epic kill scene. Freakin cats.
I’m back. I spent a good part of this night spying on the Big Sur general store. I lucked out and caught them holding some kind of meeting on a deck behind the store. I couldn’t hear anything unfortunately, but there were some raised voices. I was amazed to see at least fifty people were present. More live bodies in one place than I’d seen in over six months. It created a strange fear in me. My instincts kept telling me to run away even though they posed no threat. A psychotherapist would have a field day with me at this point. I know there is some serious PTSD going on. The ‘P’ generally stood for ‘Post’, but in my case it stood for ‘Present’, because messed up shit wasn’t likely to stop happening anytime soon.
On that cheery note, I’ll fill you in on how tomorrow goes with Bob and his grandson. See ya.
More to come……
A great blogging writer, Paul E. Bailey has created a sister story to this Apocalypse Diary. 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.😊
Picture credit goes to http://www.hikinginbigsur.com