Posts Tagged ‘emergency’

I’m laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. My head is still swimming from the beer I had with my friends earlier. My phone will not stop dinging. I know who it is, it’s John. It’s been John all night. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. He could have spent the night with me. We had plans to see a movie and go out to dinner, but just like he’s always done, he cancels on me about an hour before he was supposed to be here. Another lame excuse about a migraine or was it the drinking plans with his buddies that he had forgotten about?

I can’t remember. The beer has gone to my head. That last minute decision to go out instead of sitting home, wallowing in my hurt feelings…again is going to make tomorrow very long. I probably should have stayed home. It just made me drink too much and made my friends hate him even more, for blowing me off…again.

It’s a shitty feeling to constantly be pushed aside. How have I become one of those women that gets so wrapped up in a guy she rides it out even though she knows the inevitable outcome?

Because you love him, stupid. And because you think that one day it’ll be different and he’ll love you too.

I exhale, long and hard. I roll over and pick up my phone. I read the messages since I had stopped answering. His apologies and explanations and how it’s always someone else’s or some circumstance’s fault, not his. He’s worse than my students. And then he’s calling me and before I stop myself, I’m answering.

And then he’s saying something like, “Why do you always think I don’t want to be around you?”

Maybe because you never are. Or you makes plans with me but then blow me off all the time. Or you just push me aside like I don’t matter to you, like it’s everything else and then me and maybe I’m just to the point where I no longer believe this is all done because of baggage from an old relationship.

I close my eyes really tight. I don’t want to cry. I squeeze them until I see stars.

And then I open my eyes and in front of my stands another one of the Undead. I just keep swinging the branch I had picked up. I’m exhausted. My arms are covered in rotting blood and bodily goo. I’m just so sick of this shit. I know I’m surrounded, and alone. And I realize just how angry I am.

I’m angry for what I had to leave unfinished in my life before this. I’m angry for what’s happened to me since then and I’m sure as hell angry that I’m separated from everyone, in the woods and dealing with an endless swarm of these flesh eating assholes.

As I push on, each one of them begin to look like John or McGrady or some insane hybrid of them both. I just keep beating them the way that they had beat me down, each in their own way. I feel better each time my branch just rams one of them straight across the face. Each time, I feel as though I’m claiming a part of myself back, so I keep fighting because I know that I have to and because for the first time since I killed McGrady, I actually want to.

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We were in the media center when it happened. The Outbreak. There I was with Matilda, my ancient from another time all together aide, who was never much of any help to begin with but there we were, trying to get my 17 kids to log onto the main server so that we could start our social studies project on the American Revolution. You think I was asking them to solve world hunger with they way they complained and whined as they tried to drag it all out. Now, I think they would be happy to go back to that moment, eagerly put their winter break behind them and begin that project, given all that has happened since then.

I haven’t moved them since it happened…since the hordes reached us. I feel that here we are safe. We are at the farthest end of the school, in the only place that does not have any windows with only two ways in and out. There is the main door I barricaded with book shelves with the help of some of my bigger kids once the sirens overpowered the screaming…the screaming of my co-workers and students who weren’t as lucky as us. We’re connected to the computer lab. I let the kids play in there, but we sleep in the media center on the cushions from the sofas and various other make-shift things we could find in here. I use the door from the computer room to come and go. I half-barricaded it and move it away only when I have to get next door to the cafeteria.

The hallways are deserted and littered with glass from when the bombing happened. There are streams of dried blood and gore, marks of  death that connect somewhere to a victim that I surely know, but I refuse to follow those trails to find out just who it is. We had gone into lock-down shortly before we were overrun which left all of the classrooms as an easy mark. Thankfully though, for us, the hordes had reached us in the morning before any lunch period had begun, leaving the multipurpose room eerily vacant. I grabbed as many canned goods as I could carry. We’ve been living off canned peaches ever since. Gag. School peaches – not exactly what I ever thought I would have to survive on or truthfully ever eat.

I know that we will have to branch out of here soon, but I don’t know how to exactly move with the group of children I have left. At the time of The Outbreak, 12 of my students were with me and Matilda. I don’t know what happened to the five that were with other teachers or out in the building, I can only hope the best and that they got out with someone before shit really hit the fan.

The back-up generators are spotty and patchy at best, but I am thankful to still have them. The kids are scared enough as is and the power at least allows us to use the lights and computers sparingly. Somehow we have internet? I’m connected to MILTglobe. I’m assuming it’s some sort of government set-up, I only hope that it stays up.

Is anyone out there?