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Authors: Ian Rogers
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it when I was running from the ramblers. I suppose if I get bored enough, I might actually go looking for it. It might come to that. There is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO HERE! I’m not so bored that I wish something would happen. I know if I did that the next thing I’d know there’d be a knock on the door. Ding, dong! Avon calling! Except the Avon Lady would be an Avon rambler with a dirty pink pantsuit, empty eyesockets, and a mouthful of broken glass for teeth.
I found some letterhead in one of the desks. My new home is—or
was
—called DTS Shipping. I haven’t been able to find out what DTS stands for. I’m not sure it matters, but it’s something to do.
There’s an enclosed area at the rear of the warehouse which houses a row of offices. I’ve turned one of them into my living quarters, which is just a glamorous way of saying I unrolled my sleeping bag on the floor and my Garand is propped in the corner. There’s also a men’s room and a ladies room and an empty vending machine.
The walls are cement cinderblock and completely windowless. There’s a skylight in the ceiling that provides enough light to see by day, and enough shadows to jump at by night.
I should have brought candles.
December 6
Found a new door today.
When I first came here I made sure to check all the possible ways in or out of the warehouse. Thankfully there was only one door in the entire place that wasn’t a fire door or a loading door—by which I mean a door that a rambler or a tentacle could open from the outside. I use a few of those leftover crates to barricade it at night before I go to sleep.
The new door I found is at the end of the hall near the washrooms. It was on the other side of the vending machine, which is why I missed it. It leads out into what I presume was a smoking area. It’s a fenced enclosure about twenty feet long and fifteen feet wide. Not quite enough room to have a dance party, but it sure beats staying inside all day.
December 7
Winter’s coming, it’s official. The wind is getting colder, sharper. It reminded me that I haven’t shaved since I left home. I’ve grown a beard and didn’t realize it.
In the effort to combat boredom, I decided to open the crates that are lying around here like some giant kid’s toy blocks. I am now the proud owner of a set of patio furniture—four plastic chairs, one plastic table with a folding umbrella, and a hammock.
I’m going to set everything up in the pen out back. I’ve lived in an apartment my whole life, I think it will be nice to have a backyard for once.
December 8
Spent the morning rearranging furniture. The table takes up a considerable amount of space—so much I ended up hucking two of the chairs over the fence. I thought about keeping only one, for me, but you never know when company might drop by. Ha-ha!
I set up the hammock between two of the fence posts, so that it hangs diagonally across the enclosure. If I lie in it one way I can see the train tracks that run through the industrial area; if I lie in the other direction I can see the smoke rising from town.
At least I can’t hear the screams anymore.
December 9
Been outside lying in the hammock. It’s not exactly hammock weather, but I’m bundled up with blankets. It’s nice just to be outside in the fresh air. Living in the warehouse is like . . . well, living in a warehouse.
I wish I had a razor. This beard business must be an acquired taste.
December 11
I found a newspaper today. It’s the December 4 th edition of the
Seattle Times
. The headline says, U.N. DECLARES STATE OF INTERNATIONAL EMERGENCY . There’s a photograph of the U.S. president standing before the General Assembly. His shoulders are slumped and he looks tired and defeated.
There’s another photo, this one of a weary-eyed man the paper identified as the U.S. Surgeon General. The caption is a quote that says: “We have no contingency plan for something like this, but we’re all praying for a quick
I found some letterhead in one of the desks. My new home is—or
was
—called DTS Shipping. I haven’t been able to find out what DTS stands for. I’m not sure it matters, but it’s something to do.
There’s an enclosed area at the rear of the warehouse which houses a row of offices. I’ve turned one of them into my living quarters, which is just a glamorous way of saying I unrolled my sleeping bag on the floor and my Garand is propped in the corner. There’s also a men’s room and a ladies room and an empty vending machine.
The walls are cement cinderblock and completely windowless. There’s a skylight in the ceiling that provides enough light to see by day, and enough shadows to jump at by night.
I should have brought candles.
December 6
Found a new door today.
When I first came here I made sure to check all the possible ways in or out of the warehouse. Thankfully there was only one door in the entire place that wasn’t a fire door or a loading door—by which I mean a door that a rambler or a tentacle could open from the outside. I use a few of those leftover crates to barricade it at night before I go to sleep.
The new door I found is at the end of the hall near the washrooms. It was on the other side of the vending machine, which is why I missed it. It leads out into what I presume was a smoking area. It’s a fenced enclosure about twenty feet long and fifteen feet wide. Not quite enough room to have a dance party, but it sure beats staying inside all day.
December 7
Winter’s coming, it’s official. The wind is getting colder, sharper. It reminded me that I haven’t shaved since I left home. I’ve grown a beard and didn’t realize it.
In the effort to combat boredom, I decided to open the crates that are lying around here like some giant kid’s toy blocks. I am now the proud owner of a set of patio furniture—four plastic chairs, one plastic table with a folding umbrella, and a hammock.
I’m going to set everything up in the pen out back. I’ve lived in an apartment my whole life, I think it will be nice to have a backyard for once.
December 8
Spent the morning rearranging furniture. The table takes up a considerable amount of space—so much I ended up hucking two of the chairs over the fence. I thought about keeping only one, for me, but you never know when company might drop by. Ha-ha!
I set up the hammock between two of the fence posts, so that it hangs diagonally across the enclosure. If I lie in it one way I can see the train tracks that run through the industrial area; if I lie in the other direction I can see the smoke rising from town.
At least I can’t hear the screams anymore.
December 9
Been outside lying in the hammock. It’s not exactly hammock weather, but I’m bundled up with blankets. It’s nice just to be outside in the fresh air. Living in the warehouse is like . . . well, living in a warehouse.
I wish I had a razor. This beard business must be an acquired taste.
December 11
I found a newspaper today. It’s the December 4 th edition of the
Seattle Times
. The headline says, U.N. DECLARES STATE OF INTERNATIONAL EMERGENCY . There’s a photograph of the U.S. president standing before the General Assembly. His shoulders are slumped and he looks tired and defeated.
There’s another photo, this one of a weary-eyed man the paper identified as the U.S. Surgeon General. The caption is a quote that says: “We have no contingency plan for something like this, but we’re all praying for a quick
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