sight and the lab crew thinned out. Hospital staff died and disappeared as panic overtook them and mayhem took the city. Dead nurses lined the halls with dead patients and after a while, nobody was hauling them out anymore. She remembered staying so busy that she didn’t see what was happening until she couldn’t open a door. When she finally got sick there was nobody to look after her. Only Jack had come, and she believed he had come to say goodbye.
She could not get the memory to come clear. Her heart pounded and she could relive the terror, but she couldn’t tell the memory of one day in chaos from another. She could not sequence the events, or understand how something this sudden and final had come to be. She was sorry every time she looked back. She set herself up with tasks and focused on the present. Examining the timeline in any direction away from now profited her nothing.
September
Found a motorcycle. Really small, but in good shape. Boathouse=huge drum of gas. Covered it up with tarps. Hope it’s still there when ready to leave. Had one of those shitty multipacks of cheap fireworks for the 4th of July. Took it with me, but bet most are duds by now. Hiss boom fuck you.
* * * * *
The party of men arrived on the lake one day before sunset.
They were startlingly loud in the continuous quiet. She crept to the window to see how many. She counted ten for sure, but they weren’t still or close or easy to see. They settled into a house on the opposite side of the lake and fell to fishing and drinking. She knew they’d begin raiding the surrounding houses, just as she had done. She worried about possibilities in order: they would find her motorcycle, they would find her.
Two days passed and she watched the men ceaselessly, unable to sleep. Their constant drinking kept them slow and unambitious. Late on the third day, they finally started to venture around the lake. She had created a sniper’s perch where she could see out and shoot straight but would be difficult to spot from the ground.
When they came around to her house, they tried the door and couldn’t budge it. One of them picked up a rock to break a window and she took a deep breath and fired through her tiny slit in the window. She shot the ground beside him, but she could see his jeans darken where he pissed himself.
“This one’s taken,” she yelled down to them, gruffly. “We’re armed, and we’ll defend it. Fuck off.”
Get calm. Panic sounds like panic and any dog can hear it. Breathe deep. Remember you have the advantage. No one has seen you.
A few of them stepped back. All their eyes looked up. It wasn’t the whole party. She swept them in her sights. A few held weapons, one or two was swaying drunk.
One bearded face yelled up at her, she cringed at the sound of it. His voice was rough and low and slightly amused. “What have you got in there? Girls?”
She tried to change her voice to sound like another guy. “No girls. Just heroin. Lots of heroin. Fuck off.” Shit, that sounded really stupid. I suck at this.
A couple of them laughed. “Fucking junkie.”
The same one yelled up again. “We don’t want your drugs, man. We’re just looking for food and good stuff.”
“You’re not looking for it here,” she yelled back down. “Looks like we have guns and you don’t. We suggest you leave this lake.”
They talked to each other, low. They didn’t move off.
Please go please please please go and leave me alone.
She moved to the other window she had rigged and lit one of the strings of firecrackers she had found in the boathouse, praying that they were live. She tossed them overhand toward the men. They were live and utterly unexpected on the ground. Men jumped and flailed when the tiny crackers went off. A few ran back toward their camp, others took a long last look before following. She caught more than a few looking back and up at her. She took one more shot after them, just as a warning. Exhausted,
She could not get the memory to come clear. Her heart pounded and she could relive the terror, but she couldn’t tell the memory of one day in chaos from another. She could not sequence the events, or understand how something this sudden and final had come to be. She was sorry every time she looked back. She set herself up with tasks and focused on the present. Examining the timeline in any direction away from now profited her nothing.
September
Found a motorcycle. Really small, but in good shape. Boathouse=huge drum of gas. Covered it up with tarps. Hope it’s still there when ready to leave. Had one of those shitty multipacks of cheap fireworks for the 4th of July. Took it with me, but bet most are duds by now. Hiss boom fuck you.
* * * * *
The party of men arrived on the lake one day before sunset.
They were startlingly loud in the continuous quiet. She crept to the window to see how many. She counted ten for sure, but they weren’t still or close or easy to see. They settled into a house on the opposite side of the lake and fell to fishing and drinking. She knew they’d begin raiding the surrounding houses, just as she had done. She worried about possibilities in order: they would find her motorcycle, they would find her.
Two days passed and she watched the men ceaselessly, unable to sleep. Their constant drinking kept them slow and unambitious. Late on the third day, they finally started to venture around the lake. She had created a sniper’s perch where she could see out and shoot straight but would be difficult to spot from the ground.
When they came around to her house, they tried the door and couldn’t budge it. One of them picked up a rock to break a window and she took a deep breath and fired through her tiny slit in the window. She shot the ground beside him, but she could see his jeans darken where he pissed himself.
“This one’s taken,” she yelled down to them, gruffly. “We’re armed, and we’ll defend it. Fuck off.”
Get calm. Panic sounds like panic and any dog can hear it. Breathe deep. Remember you have the advantage. No one has seen you.
A few of them stepped back. All their eyes looked up. It wasn’t the whole party. She swept them in her sights. A few held weapons, one or two was swaying drunk.
One bearded face yelled up at her, she cringed at the sound of it. His voice was rough and low and slightly amused. “What have you got in there? Girls?”
She tried to change her voice to sound like another guy. “No girls. Just heroin. Lots of heroin. Fuck off.” Shit, that sounded really stupid. I suck at this.
A couple of them laughed. “Fucking junkie.”
The same one yelled up again. “We don’t want your drugs, man. We’re just looking for food and good stuff.”
“You’re not looking for it here,” she yelled back down. “Looks like we have guns and you don’t. We suggest you leave this lake.”
They talked to each other, low. They didn’t move off.
Please go please please please go and leave me alone.
She moved to the other window she had rigged and lit one of the strings of firecrackers she had found in the boathouse, praying that they were live. She tossed them overhand toward the men. They were live and utterly unexpected on the ground. Men jumped and flailed when the tiny crackers went off. A few ran back toward their camp, others took a long last look before following. She caught more than a few looking back and up at her. She took one more shot after them, just as a warning. Exhausted,
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