Read Online Beyond the Barriers by Timothy W. Long - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Timothy W. Long
Tags: Zombies, apocalypse, Living Dead, End of the world, walking dead, seattle, tim long, permuted press, romero, dead rising, dawn of the dead, battle for seattle, among the living
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and her new guy? I popped out my cell phone, but there was no signal. I wondered if I went onto the roof, would I pick up a tower.
Tomorrow I would scout around the lake and see if there were more cabins with people in them. I would be well advised to meet the neighbors.
* * *
After a night of tossing and turning on the bed, I wandered outside and got some fresh water from the lake. There was movement behind me, but a good ways off. I would guess about fifty meters. Probably a deer or elk.
Bored. I had stacked my food supplies, counted the bottled goods, cracked one open and sampled the jam. Tried a jar of pickles, and they tasted decent. I made a list of all the food then figured out what I should eat each day to get a decent mix of veggies and enough starch. I made lists of the beans, how much made a portion, and then the rice, and how much I could get away with eating each day so that I wouldn’t starve. Then I planned a menu where I would be comfortably full each day.
I cleaned my clothes in the tub. Now it was barely noon, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I cranked the radio a few times, but all I picked up was more of the emergency broadcast station with the same message as yesterday. I found a station playing classic rock songs with no commercial interruptions, which was weird. Maybe they put the place on autopilot and headed for the hills like I did.
I checked out the generator in the back shed, but there wasn’t much diesel for it. I had decided to rough it as much as possible and conserve the fuel. Well, roughing it in a cabin. It’s not like I had to sleep outside. I broke out my laptop and played a game of solitaire for half an hour, but watching the battery drain made me crazy, so I shut it down.
I stared at the pad of paper I had found in a drawer and the box of pencils. I wasn’t able to find a sharpener, but my new Gerber knife made short work of it. I pulled the pad into my lap and started to recount all that I had seen in the past few days—the very journal you are reading now. How long I can keep up the writing is a mystery even to me. Once upon a time, I wanted to pursue a job in journalism. I even wrote for the school paper and dabbled in a few creative writing classes. The military was a strong calling, even in my early years.
The days passed ever so slowly. I tried my hand at hunting, but it had been a long time. I didn’t even see a hint of game, let alone get a shot at one. A lot of smaller animals raced in the undergrowth, but I was far too slow to catch even a glimpse of one.
One late afternoon, I caught a squirrel trying to shimmy up a tree. I got it in my sights and I was pretty sure I could put a hole in it, but once down I wasn’t sure how to clean and prepare it. So he got a reprieve for now.
I tried to swim in the lake, but it was so cold I started shivering uncontrollably the moment the water reached my knees. Then I regretted not having hot water to shower in. By the time I got the tub full, I would be sweating.
I climbed on the roof a few times and tried to get a signal, but it was no use. The cell phone showed no bars. Either I was too far away or there was a complete breakdown in the cell towers. Either theory was relevant. I thought about climbing a tree, but being this far from any sort of medical attention meant I could possibly die if I fell out—or at least impale a leg or arm on a broken branch.
I tried fishing with a little success. I caught a small fish that looked like a trout, but it tasted plain no matter how much seasoning I put on the chunks of meat.
And so my days passed. I wondered almost constantly if I should leave the cabin and go back to civilization. It had been two weeks, and I was starting to doubt the severity of the situation below. Maybe the military came in and set everything right, cleaned up the infected, and shipped them off to some camp where they were being cured even now.
I was probably fired from my job, having been
Tomorrow I would scout around the lake and see if there were more cabins with people in them. I would be well advised to meet the neighbors.
* * *
After a night of tossing and turning on the bed, I wandered outside and got some fresh water from the lake. There was movement behind me, but a good ways off. I would guess about fifty meters. Probably a deer or elk.
Bored. I had stacked my food supplies, counted the bottled goods, cracked one open and sampled the jam. Tried a jar of pickles, and they tasted decent. I made a list of all the food then figured out what I should eat each day to get a decent mix of veggies and enough starch. I made lists of the beans, how much made a portion, and then the rice, and how much I could get away with eating each day so that I wouldn’t starve. Then I planned a menu where I would be comfortably full each day.
I cleaned my clothes in the tub. Now it was barely noon, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I cranked the radio a few times, but all I picked up was more of the emergency broadcast station with the same message as yesterday. I found a station playing classic rock songs with no commercial interruptions, which was weird. Maybe they put the place on autopilot and headed for the hills like I did.
I checked out the generator in the back shed, but there wasn’t much diesel for it. I had decided to rough it as much as possible and conserve the fuel. Well, roughing it in a cabin. It’s not like I had to sleep outside. I broke out my laptop and played a game of solitaire for half an hour, but watching the battery drain made me crazy, so I shut it down.
I stared at the pad of paper I had found in a drawer and the box of pencils. I wasn’t able to find a sharpener, but my new Gerber knife made short work of it. I pulled the pad into my lap and started to recount all that I had seen in the past few days—the very journal you are reading now. How long I can keep up the writing is a mystery even to me. Once upon a time, I wanted to pursue a job in journalism. I even wrote for the school paper and dabbled in a few creative writing classes. The military was a strong calling, even in my early years.
The days passed ever so slowly. I tried my hand at hunting, but it had been a long time. I didn’t even see a hint of game, let alone get a shot at one. A lot of smaller animals raced in the undergrowth, but I was far too slow to catch even a glimpse of one.
One late afternoon, I caught a squirrel trying to shimmy up a tree. I got it in my sights and I was pretty sure I could put a hole in it, but once down I wasn’t sure how to clean and prepare it. So he got a reprieve for now.
I tried to swim in the lake, but it was so cold I started shivering uncontrollably the moment the water reached my knees. Then I regretted not having hot water to shower in. By the time I got the tub full, I would be sweating.
I climbed on the roof a few times and tried to get a signal, but it was no use. The cell phone showed no bars. Either I was too far away or there was a complete breakdown in the cell towers. Either theory was relevant. I thought about climbing a tree, but being this far from any sort of medical attention meant I could possibly die if I fell out—or at least impale a leg or arm on a broken branch.
I tried fishing with a little success. I caught a small fish that looked like a trout, but it tasted plain no matter how much seasoning I put on the chunks of meat.
And so my days passed. I wondered almost constantly if I should leave the cabin and go back to civilization. It had been two weeks, and I was starting to doubt the severity of the situation below. Maybe the military came in and set everything right, cleaned up the infected, and shipped them off to some camp where they were being cured even now.
I was probably fired from my job, having been
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