DAY 35 (EVENING)

As the sun starts to droop towards the western horizon, it's getting harder and harder to see anything. God, my handwriting must be terrible.

What is also terrible is my urge to take a piss. I can't hide here forever. Even if I do manage not to let my biology reveal my hiding place, there is a good chance that a zombie will find me.

I need to escape.

I need to run.

Why didn't I bring a flashlight with me? I'm so friggin stupid.

The queen is still reigning in her court. She has a long cane that's tipped with a silver eagle's head. Seems like a theatrical weapon of choice–especially compared to the more utilitarian bows and guns that her warriors are armed with–but that doesn't make it less deadly.

Maybe they are distracted enough that I can make a quick escape. Make it past the zombies and find someplace to stay the night. At least I have that wool sweater that I can use for a pillow and I can dip into my reserves for an evening meal.

Okay. Wish me luck. If I don't try to go for it now I'm going to wet my pants and I really don't want that to happen.

DAY 36 (MORNING)

Well, good thing I like to run because I didn't get out of that cave without being seen.

My growling groupies were still waiting for me at the bottom of the boulders, so going back down wasn't an option. Instead I did my best to sneak around the edge of the clearing. I hoped that the flickering shadows being cast by the bonfire would obscure my movements.

It didn't work.

Within minutes of venturing out of my hiding space, I heard a shout rise up, "Intruder!" I didn't need to look over my shoulder or assess the situation. Hell no! I just ran. In the gray of twilight I didn't even notice the barbed wire until I felt it bite into my shin. I did my best to swallow my scream as I yanked my pant leg free. And then I kept running.

The adrenaline helped numb any pain. It was only after I made it to this garage that I was able to inspect the size of the laceration. It's two puncture wounds. Not long, but deep. It looks like I got into a fight with a giant-sized viper. And it fucking hurts now that I'm sitting here writing.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? You probably want to know what happened between then and now.

Well, it's pretty simple. I ran.

Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me, I'm the ginger beard man!

Once I was past the barbed wire there weren't anymore boobie traps. At least not that I ran into. I heard the shouting behind me, but with the fading light I was able to disappear around trees and eventually made it onto some small side street that wound itself up the mountainside. The first house that I saw had an open front door with a roamer chained to the porch like some demented guard dog, so I kept running, despite the drips of blood soaking into my sock.

Soon, however, I found a stand-alone garage, and when I tried the side door, it opened freely. There were no dead inside, so I closed the door behind me.

I heard some shouts and running footsteps as I settled down for the night, but hopefully they've given up by now. I mean, it's not like I pose a threat to them. And I doubt they know how much food I have in my pack.

Everything seems quiet this morning. So, I'm going to use my sock to bandage up my leg and then I'm going to hobble back home.

DAY 36 (LATER)

Guess they didn't give up.

I could really use some ibuprofen. My leg is fucking throbbing like a motherfucker. It's slowing me down considerably.

I think I lost them. I dodged down another sidestreet and am crouching behind a dumpster. But I can hear them whistling to each other.

Whistling... was the singer part of their group, too?

They must know where my cabin is. Aren't they the ones who have been spying on me? So why are they hunting me down instead of just taking my real treasure while it's unprotected? Me and my little bag of goodies is nothing compared to the luxury of running water, working electricity, and a whole pantry of good stuff.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this isn't the group that was spying on me.

I don't know what's real or not anymore. All I know is that for the first time in a long time I'm scared.

Guess I'm going to have to... aw shit.

DAY 36 (LATER, AGAIN)

Sorry about that abrupt stop: zombie. It flushed me from my hiding space like a foxhound with a hunting party. And then the chase was back on.

I wish I hadn't snagged my leg on that barbed wire. It's really slowing me down. I'd be done with this nonsense if I was able to go at full speed, I just know it.

Found a new temporary hiding spot. I'm sandwiched between a bush and a tree trunk. I'm heading towards the cabin, but only very generally. No way I'll lead them right there if they don't already know about it. It's hard to think, though. My blood is bursting with panic hormones. I can barely suck in a breath. All I know is that I want to spend the night in my bed, so I would rather be closer to home than farther away. Maybe I can go in a wide arc and get past the cabin and then double-back.

Just have to hope my sense of direction doesn't fail me.

I got my cell phone back, sure, but Google maps is offline and useless.

Okay. I'm going to go for it. Pray for me.

DAY 36 (STILL LATER)

I'm screwed.

Screwed as good as the top of a homemade calm down glitter-filled mason-jar. You gotta hot glue that shit down so it doesn't spill everywhere. Trust me. Can't get anymore screwed than that.

Wish I had a glitter jar right now. Something to distract my mind and soothe my nerves. Nothing is as simple and mesmerizing as globs of glitter floating in glass, shimmering in the light.

That's the opposite of where I am right now.

Except, I guess I could describe the sunlight glancing off the river as glittery. It's just not the right type of glittery. It's panic-inducing, not panic-asuading.

Somehow I backed myself into a corner.

I was trying to go for a wide arc, following the sound of the creek to my left. Thought it made sense to keep that familiar landmark as a guide so I would know what direction to take to get back to my cabin. But I guess I had never explored this far downstream. Because the creek joins another creek and it widens out and then, somehow, snakes back on itself before continuing on its eventual journey to the coast.

And now I'm screwed because those warriors are still tracking me–though God knows why–and somehow I've trapped myself on a peninsula of sorts. Surrounded by wide running water on three sides.

There are only two ways out of here: back towards the warriors with their projectile weapons, or towards a river that I would only be able to swim across if I ditched the bag.

Instead of a rock and a hard place, I'm trapped between death by arrows or death by drowning. Not sure which I would prefer.

Should I bury my bag here and take my chances? It's definitely an idea.

But what about you? I couldn't bear it. It'd be like burying my own child, which is... I can't go there.

No, you're staying with me. And my phone. Although... maybe I should put it in a plastic bag just in case. I do have an empty bag from my meal last night.

... 

Wait, as I was trying to waterproof you and my phone, I saw something. Something unexpected.

There is a woman on the shore. Not one of the warriors. She has sunbaked golden skin and thick reddish-brown curls that go down to her shoulders. Most importantly, she doesn't have any weapons, at least as far as I can see.

When I saw her I was–no, I am–mesmerized.

I'm still watching her, even as I write this, my phone tucked back into my pocket.

There is a grace to how she moves. Purposeful, yet gentle. Like a fox. And even from this distance I can tell how beautiful she is. The arch of her brows, the curve of her lips. It tugs at a place inside of me that I haven't felt in a long time.

I wonder who she was in the before times. And how she has survived this long.

...

A boat! She has a fucking boat. A canoe, maybe?A rowboat? I can only see part of it. It's moored to a large boulder that is jutting into the river and I can only see part of it. Just a small strip of red that seems to bob up and down with the current. And it looks like she is putting something into the boat. Maybe she is digging for roots? Or... I don't think clams live in the mud of riverbanks, but who knows what people eat these days when they're on the constant brink of starvation. Two years after the fall of civilization, I bet we've all eaten a few grubs in desperate times. So, maybe she's digging for earthworms. Who am I to judge?

Well, that makes things a bit easier, doesn't it? I need to convince her to row me across the river to get away from these deranged warriors. Someone desperate enough to eat worms might be willing to give me a ride for a few cans of corn.

I'm so glad this day is finally going to come to an end.