Just Another Apocalypse Diary Day 7 (Short Story)

I slept like shit last night and I’m so nervous at the thought of visitors that my stomach is making excess gas. This cabin is too small to hide that kind of stink. Where’s a scented candle when you need one?! 

Ended up waving some pine branches around the room. Did the trick. Your welcome for the nifty forest tip.

Ugh, I hate having company over, always have. While waiting, I create numerous conversations in my head and I always sound like an idiot in them. You know, someone says, “Hey, how about the weather” and I blurt, “I love tornados!” Then there’s an awkward “oook”. That’s me in public.

I’m serving pine needle tea, It’s unsweetened but these days soda is more expensive than crack used to be. And the soda companies always said they weren’t addictive, ha! 

If you can’t tell, I’m totally just killing time, nervous writing. If this were the old days, I’d be stuffing my face right now. Pine needles and canned soup don’t sooth the soul like rocky road and marshmallows though. 


My visitors showed up. Bob and his grandson Tim knocked on my door, then demand I pack my shit immediately because a horde was on its way and “we” had to go. I’m not sure why or how I got grouped in with them.

As a general rule, when someone says horde, I move my ass. I was out the door with Jim running after me, tail twitching, in under two minutes. Bob was damn swift for an old guy. His pack was being carried by Tim. And get this, he’s the same tall stud I headbutted in the store the other day. Go figure! 

I began running inland since I had a hunch the group of zombies were probably coming from the highway on the coast. I assumed that the whole town already knew of their existence. I guess, you know…ass..me. whatever, they should’ve had scouts out for the safety of the town anyway. 

On the way out of Big Sur I had a close encounter with a new type of plaguer. This asshole came running..running!, I say. Talk about some scary shit, he tackled me before I knew what was happening and I had literally seconds to pull my knife. 

I pushed his putrid face away with a thumb and pointer finger planted in his eye holes like a bowling ball. Then, I jabbed the knife into the back of his neck and sloshed it around but couldn’t hit anything vital enough to make him stop. Meanwhile he’s snapping his pearly whites at my nose and I’m fighting the urge to hurl.

Im ashamed to say this, but I began to panic. I thought for the briefest second of giving up, but then I screamed “fuck that!” and began hacking at the dudes throat. Eventually, I got all the way back to the spine and the head rolled off to the left. 

Then my companions rushed over to help. To be fair, they’d had their own plaugers to deal with. To say the least, I was a horrible stinking mess. 

Once we reached a high peak on one side of the valley,  we took a breather for Bob’s sake. Tim introduced himself and I tried to not squeal with pain as he squeezed my right hand into pulp. I said, “Gabe” and nodded. 

I glanced at Bob and noticed tears running down the side of his face and when he turned away from the scene below, I looked. The whole town was engulfed in Plaugers, not a surprising thing for me to see, but a horrifying one for someone who lived most of his life there. Those who didn’t run might be able to hide. But unless they were stocked up for it the dead would win the siege. Starve or fight.

We kept walking, silent and stealthy until the sun fell and now we are in some kind of ranch house. No utilities, but there’s a roof and a strong adobe fence surrounding the home. 

I didn’t stick around for chitchat after dinner, just went upstairs, picked a room with a barricadable door and a window, and started writing. I desperately need to sleep but I didn’t want to forget anything from today. 

Tim says, tomorrow he and Bob are going to try and curve around the horde and go north. They want me to go with them… but I don’t know. 

Bob’s a great guy but I don’t want to get attached, only to lose him. I guess that’s a risk you run with anyone these days though. They could be gone in an instant. 

I think I’ll stick with them a couple days and see how it goes. I do know that I’m not going to be able to keep up my gender bender for long around Tim. I’d like to see what kind of man he really is before revealing myself though.

Well, I’m out..talk to ya tomorrow. 
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.😊


  1. “The asshole came running…!” 😂 it had to happen! Overall not what I expected to happen in this instalment that’s for sure! Nice to have a few other characters to explore a little for the time being too… I’ll be curious about Gabe outing herself and how all that will go too.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. I was thinking of calling out Paul again… but he knows what he did! 😒 But I was thinking “So there, Paul! She rocked it!” 😂 Hubby used to have lucid Zombie dreams and would sit up and yell obscenities in the middle of the night when he was in the midst of fighting them off 😳 always startled the bejesus outta me!

        Liked by 2 people

  2. First of all, I’m sorry I’m so late in reading this.
    Secondly, nice way of squeezing the “gawkers” into the plot. Very expertly done, but then I really expect no less of you by now.
    The story is building very nicely and I’m intrigued to find out what Gabe decides to do as regards her compatriots. Strength in numbers or self dependency? Tough call!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I was thinking in the way that Clive Cussler wrote one of his books. His protagonist, Dirk Pitt, walks into the aircraft and car museum he has at his home (obviously, because who doesn’t have one of those at home?) and there’s a party going on. The party guests are basically every major character from every story, including friends, lovers and antagonists and he walks around greeting each one. The idea that came to mind was Gabe and Ryan sat somewhere and having a conversation, but we write it in such a way that you write for Gabe and I write for Ryan, virtually unscripted

        Liked by 1 person

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