With Nicole gone this place feels emptier than it did even before she showed up.
I don't know why I did it, but for some reason I found a couple boxes in Nicole's closet and packed all of her personal stuff away. I marked the box NICOLE'S STUFF and dated it and then wrote, "If you find this box then I guess we failed." I cleared knick-knacks off shelves, paintings off walls, pictures off the refrigerator. All of it is in a box. I erased their answering machine message. I threw away most of their bathroom supplies and saved only the stuff I knew I would use. I had to flush a goldfish down the toilet when it was still alive.
Maybe that's why it feels so empty in here.
I even went through the laptop and erased everything. All the folders and files, the internet bookmarks, cookies, all of it. I changed the desktop wallpaper to a solid shade of gray, which suited my mood. I'll probably find something less depressing, but you don't understand what kind of mood I was in when I got back. I'd never felt so guilty in my life.
The apartments look the same. The front gate is still closed -- as it had been when I saw it with Nicole yesterday -- and the mass of zombies has been mostly restricted to the street. I say 'mostly' because other apartment complexes on my road have been flooded. Ours has yet to have been compromised. The handful of zombies I had seen inside the gates, though, were still wandering around. I kind of saw them as cows on a pasture, lazily lounging about. When they see me -- like the suit-and-tie zombie did -- they speed up a bit and chase after me, but it's been remarkably easy to out-pace them. So I climbed back up the stairs and over the barricade and up onto the rooof.
And before I even went into Nicole's place, I went to get the bong and the weed from my loft. I cut myself on some glass I hadn't knocked out of the frame, but it was nothing bad. Nicole had a box of band-aids in the bathroom. So I also grabbed batteries, blankets, pillows, more clothes. I grabbed all the rest of my bathroom stuff, too, like my electric razor and hair gel and soap and cologne. I grabbed some of my towels and my shampoo. A pack-rat. This stuff made me feel comfortable. I was already planning on emptying Nicole's presence out of her apartment, so I needed things to fill the empty space with.
Now I think I'm going to just stay here. I have lost all motivation to leave the apartment. I have food and supplies. I have electricity. I have the internet. I have running water. So there's really no reason for me to do anything but wait. My mom and sister are in some bunker somewhere in Tahoe -- or was it Reno? -- and I still haven't heard from my dad or Belen or anyone. It's like now I'm not only alone, but I'm completely alone -- like last-person-alive-on-the-planet alone.
As always, I'm just going to end with the idea that this could be my last posting. My name is Chris Fryer. I am not infected. I am alone and in a safe location. I'm at 2323 Winston Road #5, Santa Rosa CA.
Please send someone.
I don't know why I did it, but for some reason I found a couple boxes in Nicole's closet and packed all of her personal stuff away. I marked the box NICOLE'S STUFF and dated it and then wrote, "If you find this box then I guess we failed." I cleared knick-knacks off shelves, paintings off walls, pictures off the refrigerator. All of it is in a box. I erased their answering machine message. I threw away most of their bathroom supplies and saved only the stuff I knew I would use. I had to flush a goldfish down the toilet when it was still alive.
Maybe that's why it feels so empty in here.
I even went through the laptop and erased everything. All the folders and files, the internet bookmarks, cookies, all of it. I changed the desktop wallpaper to a solid shade of gray, which suited my mood. I'll probably find something less depressing, but you don't understand what kind of mood I was in when I got back. I'd never felt so guilty in my life.
The apartments look the same. The front gate is still closed -- as it had been when I saw it with Nicole yesterday -- and the mass of zombies has been mostly restricted to the street. I say 'mostly' because other apartment complexes on my road have been flooded. Ours has yet to have been compromised. The handful of zombies I had seen inside the gates, though, were still wandering around. I kind of saw them as cows on a pasture, lazily lounging about. When they see me -- like the suit-and-tie zombie did -- they speed up a bit and chase after me, but it's been remarkably easy to out-pace them. So I climbed back up the stairs and over the barricade and up onto the rooof.
And before I even went into Nicole's place, I went to get the bong and the weed from my loft. I cut myself on some glass I hadn't knocked out of the frame, but it was nothing bad. Nicole had a box of band-aids in the bathroom. So I also grabbed batteries, blankets, pillows, more clothes. I grabbed all the rest of my bathroom stuff, too, like my electric razor and hair gel and soap and cologne. I grabbed some of my towels and my shampoo. A pack-rat. This stuff made me feel comfortable. I was already planning on emptying Nicole's presence out of her apartment, so I needed things to fill the empty space with.
Now I think I'm going to just stay here. I have lost all motivation to leave the apartment. I have food and supplies. I have electricity. I have the internet. I have running water. So there's really no reason for me to do anything but wait. My mom and sister are in some bunker somewhere in Tahoe -- or was it Reno? -- and I still haven't heard from my dad or Belen or anyone. It's like now I'm not only alone, but I'm completely alone -- like last-person-alive-on-the-planet alone.
As always, I'm just going to end with the idea that this could be my last posting. My name is Chris Fryer. I am not infected. I am alone and in a safe location. I'm at 2323 Winston Road #5, Santa Rosa CA.
Please send someone.
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