Read Online Stories in a Lost World: Bridget by L.C. Mortimer - Free Book Online
Authors: L.C. Mortimer
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March
March 15th
Kristy is the one who found the notebooks. There are three of them, all worn out and beaten up. Just like us. Three composition notebooks that would have once been used to take notes on subjects no one cares about, but now they're ours.
I don't really feel like writing.
Even before the plague, before the infection, writing was never my thing. Before the world went to hell in a hand basket and came back as cannibals, I didn't like to write.
Unfortunately for me, there's nothing else to do in this dead world, so here I am.
It's been about a month since the infection started, give or take. A month of living in our tiny little house, eating canned chili, and playing board games that we're now completely sick of. A month. I don't even know what to say about all that. Our day-to-day is boring and pointless. We're all just sitting around waiting to die. Worst of all is that we know it.
Before everyone got sick, I was studying to be a teacher. Cliche? Absolutely. I don't really care. It's not that I'm dumb or that I believe education will change the world. None of that. I just always liked my teachers growing up and thought, you know, why not give something back to the world?
Well, now the world is giving plenty back to me and it comes in the form of decaying mass and people I used to know. Thanks a lot, world.
I still have my textbooks, of course. The world hasn't been dead that long. I thought, for awhile, that maybe things would get under control. I thought for awhile that maybe everything would go back to normal, back to the way that it was. So far, it hasn't.
But I kept the textbooks because, you know, what if I wanted to read them? What if everything was suddenly set straight again and I needed them for school? But it's been a month now. I don't think the lights are coming back on.
March 16th
Last night, the girls and I were talking. We were talking about what we want to do with the rest of our lives. Kristy wants to move on. She thinks we should leave town. I'm not really sure why. No, nothing's happening here, but isn't that the point? There are only like, five zombies left here, and a couple of random groups of survivors. She's worried that the other survivors are going to go crazy on us.
Danielle agrees.
Not me.
It probably sounds stupid, but I mean, what if my parents come looking for me? What if they're still alive? I'd rather be in the same quiet town at the same rural community college so that they can find me.
The girls tell me that I'm stupid, that it's wishful thinking. Part of me knows that they're right. My parents are probably long dead, along with the rest of the world. Where's the good in thinking like that, though? Where's the hope? Where's the joy?
Yeah, I know. Go ahead and laugh, o journal of mine. It doesn't matter anyway. Kristy is the one who found the house to rent, so we all kind of look to her for guidance. In some ways, she's our queen bee, our leader. In others, she's just Kristy.
I don't really want to leave, but honestly, the other girls might not give me much of a choice.
March 17th
Something happened last night, but none of us are really sure what. Kristy and Danielle were right in thinking that the other survivors were going to be our downfall. They were right, and I was stupid. Being hopeful is going to be my demise. I can already tell.
There aren't many of us left in town, just a few small groups. Most of it is college students, though. We all live in this one part of town and somehow, the infection didn't get us. Maybe because we were all passed out from partying when the infection first started? Maybe it's because none of us felt it necessary to get the stupid Artovax anti-aids vaccine. I dunno. All I know is that most of us were fine, so we stayed put.
Last night, everything changed. It started when darkness fell, maybe around 7:00pm. I'm not really sure. I don't have a watch anymore. That's just my guess. There was a knock at
March 15th
Kristy is the one who found the notebooks. There are three of them, all worn out and beaten up. Just like us. Three composition notebooks that would have once been used to take notes on subjects no one cares about, but now they're ours.
I don't really feel like writing.
Even before the plague, before the infection, writing was never my thing. Before the world went to hell in a hand basket and came back as cannibals, I didn't like to write.
Unfortunately for me, there's nothing else to do in this dead world, so here I am.
It's been about a month since the infection started, give or take. A month of living in our tiny little house, eating canned chili, and playing board games that we're now completely sick of. A month. I don't even know what to say about all that. Our day-to-day is boring and pointless. We're all just sitting around waiting to die. Worst of all is that we know it.
Before everyone got sick, I was studying to be a teacher. Cliche? Absolutely. I don't really care. It's not that I'm dumb or that I believe education will change the world. None of that. I just always liked my teachers growing up and thought, you know, why not give something back to the world?
Well, now the world is giving plenty back to me and it comes in the form of decaying mass and people I used to know. Thanks a lot, world.
I still have my textbooks, of course. The world hasn't been dead that long. I thought, for awhile, that maybe things would get under control. I thought for awhile that maybe everything would go back to normal, back to the way that it was. So far, it hasn't.
But I kept the textbooks because, you know, what if I wanted to read them? What if everything was suddenly set straight again and I needed them for school? But it's been a month now. I don't think the lights are coming back on.
March 16th
Last night, the girls and I were talking. We were talking about what we want to do with the rest of our lives. Kristy wants to move on. She thinks we should leave town. I'm not really sure why. No, nothing's happening here, but isn't that the point? There are only like, five zombies left here, and a couple of random groups of survivors. She's worried that the other survivors are going to go crazy on us.
Danielle agrees.
Not me.
It probably sounds stupid, but I mean, what if my parents come looking for me? What if they're still alive? I'd rather be in the same quiet town at the same rural community college so that they can find me.
The girls tell me that I'm stupid, that it's wishful thinking. Part of me knows that they're right. My parents are probably long dead, along with the rest of the world. Where's the good in thinking like that, though? Where's the hope? Where's the joy?
Yeah, I know. Go ahead and laugh, o journal of mine. It doesn't matter anyway. Kristy is the one who found the house to rent, so we all kind of look to her for guidance. In some ways, she's our queen bee, our leader. In others, she's just Kristy.
I don't really want to leave, but honestly, the other girls might not give me much of a choice.
March 17th
Something happened last night, but none of us are really sure what. Kristy and Danielle were right in thinking that the other survivors were going to be our downfall. They were right, and I was stupid. Being hopeful is going to be my demise. I can already tell.
There aren't many of us left in town, just a few small groups. Most of it is college students, though. We all live in this one part of town and somehow, the infection didn't get us. Maybe because we were all passed out from partying when the infection first started? Maybe it's because none of us felt it necessary to get the stupid Artovax anti-aids vaccine. I dunno. All I know is that most of us were fine, so we stayed put.
Last night, everything changed. It started when darkness fell, maybe around 7:00pm. I'm not really sure. I don't have a watch anymore. That's just my guess. There was a knock at
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