The Beginning at the End of the World: A Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian Series (The Survivor Diaries Book 2) (2 page)

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A SURVIVOR DIARIES GIVEAWAY

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The following is a transcription from the video and written diaries of Laura Patton describing the days after the Last War, used for educational purposes. Important scenes are described in the transcripts and are included in the narration. Videotaped conversations are transcribed and include Patton’s descriptions and thoughts recorded by her after conversations and events. It also incorporates her diary entries. These transcripts blend with her video tapes and diaries for readability, which was done at the transcriber’s discretion.

We acknowledge Laura Patton as one of the Founding Mothers of the New World.

Nature is reclaiming the earth. Since the beginning of history, no other animal that has walked this planet has had such a devastating impact. The human footprint here is now indelible.

On July 4, the Last War, as we are calling it, began. On July 15, my hometown of Monterey, California was devastated by a combination of missiles and bio-chemicals that killed almost everyone, but inexplicably missed my small neighborhood, called the Monte Vista Village.

We formed our own community of survivors, and equally as inexplicable as our survival was that I became the leader. We were going along pretty well until a fire swept through our Village, claiming even more lives. Those who perished were our family and friends, but they were more than that. There is no way to describe what it means to survive “the end of days” together. The closeness, the bonds of surviving together, are the strongest I have ever known outside of my family.

I lost Lizzie Burgess, my friend and right hand, and her three sweet children in that fire. I am not sure what I will do without her.

My house, the one that my husband, Mark Balous, and I moved into after the war left it unclaimed, was burned to the ground. Luckily, my ward, Bailey, and Mrs. Ingram, our elderly neighbor who moved in with us after the war, both got out alive. My husband and dog, Hershey, helped to get Mrs. Ingram from the house before it burst into flames.

My Mother, who I call Annie, lives next door to us. By some miracle, her home remains. I am thankful that our family photos and souvenirs from our lifetime before the Last War are all intact.

The culprit of our most recent disaster was fire due to lightning strikes. We thought that the fire was contained for a while, but the lightning was not satisfied taking only a few buildings. It greedily came back for more. Many of those who died were the elderly; the Village mentors who were teaching us what we needed to know to stay alive without modern day conveniences.

We are woefully ignorant of how to take care of ourselves on this planet.

∞

The morning after the fire was hard. It’s true that smell is a sensory memory trigger. Flashbacks from the day we walked out of our houses after the war plagued us all again.

In the days after the fire, my husband Mark and I went through house after house to recover as many bodies as we could. Hershey became our cadaver dog, sniffing out the bodies. We hadn’t originally planned on that, but it somehow just happened organically, as he followed us through the ruins.

We were able to bury those bodies on the land where they lived and died. We made markers for every soul we lost.

∞

There are nine of us living in Annie’s house now, and although it is a large home, things are getting cramped and emotions are running high.

After we moved back in with Annie, I found my video camera that I am using to record this. Thankfully, we still have two generators left in the Village so that I can keep my camera charged. Film and video are my roots and something that I lost after the Last War. I still have my computer software-based editing bay, so I can document everything, lest we forget.

Skeletons of houses with crumbling fireplaces litter the area. The Patton House and garden remain. Next door, all that is left of the house and the wheat that was planted is an ash and snow mix, a filthy pot of sludge.

∞

I thought that we had made so much progress in the three months and one week since the attacks happened here, but now we find ourselves starting anew again.

On October 23, we held a town meeting that was anything but civil. I fear that the Villagers are angry at me because I had left a few days before the fire to go out-bounding. If only they knew what had occurred during that trip they might hate me more than I hate myself for the horrifying act I committed. I have never lied to them, and not telling them about the man I killed is a lie of omission.

Today I went to the hospital to see Colonel Phillip Jackson, the man who made me into a leader here, to ask him what he thought I should do. He was injured in the fire, but not mortally. When I thought he was going to die, I came close to saying some things that may have hurt my marriage. Thankfully, I didn’t go there. I know we have a connection, but I am in love with my husband and would never jeopardize that relationship. I am faithful.

I walked through the forest path to the hospital. Since the Last War, the path has become worn from so much foot traffic. The snow was entrenched with grooves from where our golf cart had gone back and forth so many times. The day was frigidly cold, even with the layers I was wearing. None of us have the proper clothing for this weather, nor the body fat to help provide any natural insulation. Before the fire, we collected snow clothes (probably used by the affluent during ski trips to Lake Tahoe) from the houses that were no longer occupied, but the fire took many of those things. We just have to make do now.

Jackson’s room was in the wing for patients who were not suffering from radiation poisoning, the plague, or any of the numerous cancers that have popped up like evil monsters from beneath the earth’s snowy soil, coming to take even more of our precious lives.

“Hey, loafer,” I announced as I walked into the room. “Doc Riley says you need to get your lazy ass out of bed and get back to work, but you just like it here too much.”

“Heh, is that so?” he asked. “I would have left the day after you stuck me in this place. I’m telling you, it can get damn depressing here.”

“Jackson, I didn’t just come up here to shoot the breeze,” I said. “I need to tell you something.”

“You shot a man in Carmel, and now you are experiencing oppressive guilt,” he said without missing a beat. I felt an extreme heat in my stomach that quickly made its way to my face.

“Good guess. How did you know?”

“Adam radioed Joseph on the ham. He was really worried about you. Said you took it really hard, but it was cut and dry self-defense.” Jackson actually sounded sympathetic, if that was even possible for him.

“Who else knows?” I asked angrily.

“Only Joe, Mark and me. None of us would let it go any further than that.”

“Mark knows?”

“You haven’t talked to him about it?”

I couldn’t believe that after five days he hadn’t said a word about it. Of course, neither had I. I didn’t know how to bring it up. It was the worst thing I have ever done, that I could ever do, and I was deeply ashamed of myself. I took a human life, and I have been hiding behind the chaos of the fire to protect myself from dealing with it.

“No,” I went on after a moment of silence. “What do I tell the Villagers? Eventually they are going to find out what happened. All of the Out-bounders were there, and Holly and Colton know, too.”

I found my best friend’s sister, Holly, just before the shooting happened, and I convinced her and her boyfriend to come and live in the Village. I knew that she would never say anything about it to anyone, but my guilt had been getting the best of me.

“Listen very carefully,” said Jackson. He said the next sentence with emphasis on each word: “Do. Not. Say. Anything.”

“No,” I said. “I should have known that you would want me to brush this under the rug. Why did I come up here?”

“Because you knew that is exactly what I was going to tell you,” he said pointedly. “And you know that’s exactly what you need to do.”

“Why did you really go into the burning Town Hall building? I know you wouldn’t risk your life for a flag,” I said abruptly changing the subject.

“I needed to get something out of my office,” he said.

“Don’t be evasive, Jackson. What was it?”

He let out a big sigh and said, “My thumb drive. And I am not going to tell you what was on it.”

“Fine,” I said, turning to leave. “Just get better soon. Bri isn’t ready to run an army, yet.”

“Doc’s releasing me this afternoon,” he said as I kept my back to him. I couldn’t let him see my face.

“Laura, please do not tell the Villagers about Carmel, at least not yet. There are big things coming soon that are going to push them to their limits. They don’t need to deal with your guilt, too. Telling them is you selfishly trying to relieve your conscience. Don’t do that to them.”

“I will see you in my office first thing in the morning. It is in the ballroom now,” I said. I kept my back to him as I marched away.

∞

My mind was muddled as I walked back to my new office, wondering how to approach with Mark what went down in Carmel. He had been working so hard trying to pull things together since the fire. All of that work might have been a way for him to hide from the subject, I realized.

I considered talking to Katie, our resident psychologist, about how I was feeling, but I really couldn’t explain it.

When I got to my new office in the ballroom, I pulled over the thick, musty red curtains so that they completely hid the small, worn desk that sat awkwardly on the ballroom’s stage. I sat down in the broken plastic chair and pulled myself up to the newest pile of paperwork that was waiting on the aged desk top.

The work of retooling the delicate balance of the Villagers and their jobs was made practically impossible without Lizzie. If only some of her paperwork had survived the fire. If only she had survived. I really missed her.

With so many people gone, our workloads increased dramatically, and people were becoming vocal with their dissatisfaction. The problem is, if we are to continue, someone has to do these jobs. And it’s my job to make it all come together. We still need to eat and drink. We need roofs over our heads, education on survival techniques, and security for our borders. Without these things, we will die.

∞

“Knock, knock,” said a voice from behind the curtains. Bri peeked her head through the slit where the two sides of the curtains met. “Sorry, but knocking on these doesn’t seem to get your attention.”

I appreciated her attempt at a joke.

“Nice digs, Aunt Laurie,” she continued to kid. “Maybe you can do a little cha-cha around the floor before you knock off for the day.”

“Thanks, Bri,” I said. I didn’t mean to sound annoyed. “Bri, did Adam tell you what happened in Carmel?”

“He did. And he told me how you took it, too,” she said. “Aunt Laurie, I know we have never really explained all of what happened trying to get here from Phoenix, but let’s just say that what happened to you on that one day was pretty common during that trip. People are not who they were. The old rules for the old world just don’t work anymore.”

I’m proud of what an amazingly strong woman my Bri has turned into. She is always calm and composed now. She knows how to protect not just herself but everyone around her, too. I wish that I was more like her.

I knew that I didn’t need to ask Bri not to mention the Carmel incident with anyone until I figured out what I was going to do.

“Thank you, Bri,” I said sincerely. “So, what actually brought you to my luxury accommodations?”

“I wanted to go over the security scheduling,” said Bri. “I am getting a lot of push back. I know that the team members who used to be military are still pretty pissed that Jackson made me his next in command, but since he’s been gone it has gotten really bad. They are constantly questioning my orders, and Martin Wells even started a screaming match with me. He got up in my face and everything. He said that I was only as high up as I am because of my aunt and that it’s all just nepotism.”

“I am afraid that the only one who can gain their respect is you,” I told her. “The truth is that it didn’t hurt that I am your aunt, but you got the job because you are the only one with combat experience out there in the post-apocalyptic wasteland we used to call the United States of America. You have to be the one to get them to understand that you are the best person for the job.”

“I am not sure how to do that,” she said.

“It will come to you when you need it to,” I reassured her. “And Jackson will be back tomorrow morning. But Bri, I suggest that you figure out how to get the team to respect you without Jackson interfering.”

“You’re right. I will figure it out,” she said. She continued with a sly smile. “Before I go, may I have this dance?”

She twirled around the stage and flitted off through the curtains.