Well the cat is out of the bag, and I don’t mean Jim. Although it’s all that bitches fault. She couldn’t wait two minutes to go outside to potty and opted to use Tim’s boot instead. He flew into a rage, which I didn’t really think he was capable of, and burst through the bedroom door to yell at me about it.
Then I screamed, “Get out!” because I happened to be standing completely nude in the center of a small tub of water giving myself a splash bath.
“Who are…Gabe?!” he asked, still staring open mouthed.
“Yes Tim, I’m a woman. Now get the fuck out!” I tiptoed over to the bed and grabbed a towel to wrap myself in.
With a flat shocked face, he said. “Your cat shit in my shoe.” Then turned and left.
I laughed my ass off for twenty minutes, finished maning up again, and went to talk with him. He understood my reasons, but why didn’t I tell him, yadda yadda.
If I thought he looked at me funny before, now it’s downright weird. I catch him watching me then looking away as I meet his eye. I even tried smiling at him once to make him feel more comfortable. He jumped and ran like I’d goosed him. I don’t know.
At least Bob had a great laugh at the situation.
Gender revelations aside, we have a growing problem with the runners. They come up on us too quick. An especially spry one came out of the bushes this morning and almost snagged Bob to the ground. Luckily, I happened to be near enough to pull the old guy to me and kick over the plaguer. One of his boney legs snapped off, so he didn’t get up and jog after us again, but they’re more and more common. I really don’t like it. We have decided to head farther East into the Pinnacles state park. Ranger cabins can be great hideouts, and we’re thinking that the plaguers are deterred by the high elevation. I know I’m sure as hell not looking forward to it. On a side note, if Tim asks me if I’m going to be ok with the climb again, I’m going to shave his neck with a noose. Just sayin, I’m no more or less a woman than I was before.
We’re stopped for the night. I’ve kind of settled into a comfortable schedule of twice a day journal entries. Nothing about it, I just noticed.
Surprise of the day! There’s a new lady in the group. I’ll have you note that the exclamation point was a sarcastic one. I am not thrilled in the least.
This grouping up shit is getting out of hand. Who feeds all these people, Me! Bob, I don’t mind caring for, but dammit. There should’ve been a fucking vote or something. It’s still America aint it!
Her name is Brittany and yes she looks like a walking Barbie doll. Fucking Brittany!
Anyway, we found her when we got near the state park. She was sitting on the walkway surrounding a water tower, screaming her fool head off while she amassed more and more undead admirers. I watched a few seconds from my binoculars and continued walking.
Of course Tim piped up with, “We have to help her!”
“Uh, no. We really don’t Tim.” I answered over my shoulder.
“Could we try?” Bob asked. Now if he’d stayed silent I would have just kept on walking but no, I just couldn’t refuse the old man anything. So I came back and looked again. “Alright…First we have to find out if she’s salvageable.”
“What! Salvageable?” Tim posted his hands on his hips, “You guess whether a burnt dinner is salvageable, not a human life!”
“I’m figuring it out. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” I sighed. The only way I was able to get to her was with a diversion.
Just up the road from the water tower I found a car. You’d think a car’s interior would light up pretty easily but it just would not. So I ended up putting armloads of dried leaves onto the back seat and lighting those. Then when it was good and bright, I strapped a rock to the horn and pushed the piece of crap Chevy down the road. It went five feet then swerved into the concrete meridian. I then had to hold my breath and strap the steering wheel straight with my belt. (Reminder: Brittany owes me a damn belt!) Finally it rolled past the water tower and pulled the group’s attention. A few die-hards stuck around but I took care of them quick enough.
Per my plan, Tim climbed the ladder to retrieve the chick and who does she thank… Tim! I did all the fucking work and killing and planning. He climbed a ladder. Whoopie freakin doo.
I can see it… I’m a tiny bit bitter. I’ll get over it. At least Bob gave me a “Good going!” back slap when we got back to him.
As I hoped, we found a two bedroom cabin in the park that is made of log, has a thick metal door and bars on the windows. Essentially plaguer proof. Now since I forbid Tim from telling Brittany that I am a woman, I’m sleeping in a room with them. I wasn’t going to chance sleeping near her anyway. If she didn’t kill me in my sleep, I would most definitely kill her in hers. I’m also pretty sure that she knows or thinks she knows something about me, but I’m okay with leaving people in the dark. Jim hates her guts, that says something.
Okay, so she just came to the door and said she was chilly and wanted me to go out and get more wood to put on the fire, even though we’re all under the covers and fine. I told her “Fuck no! Go to bed.” But now Tim says he’ll do it and of course I have to go out in the cold and make sure no runners attack while he’s got an armload of firewood. This is going to get so old, so fast.
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.😊