Read Online Tamberlin's Account by Jaime Munt - Free Book Online
Authors: Jaime Munt
Tags: Zombies
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we got back and in the car, Mr. Ages probably felt like he was out of danger. He must have sensed I just couldn’t punish him.
“Don’t ever leave me,” was all I could choke out.
After a couple miles he got antsy and he kept walking in circles in the seat—his bum-hole pursing like kissy-lips.
“You are a bad dog!” I snapped.
I wanted to make him wait a while longer, but if he made a mess then I’d be punished by punishing him.
Then I remembered that I really had to piss.
I braked hard and Mr. Ages poured into the floor space below the seat. I grabbed the accessible travel tissue pack and jumped out and “made due” behind the door after Mr. Ages shoved past me—nearly doing the splits as he went hard on the gravel shoulder.
I didn’t know dogs could get boners shitting. So fucking nasty!
We got back in the car.
I looked at the creature who shared total dependency with me.
“You need to stay with me,” I told him.
Oct 30 9:57am
Am at a state park. I can't help thinking how close I am to where Marie lives.
Henry Ellis said: “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”
There’s something I can't know—not now. I can't bear to. My mind imagines enough—realizing any of it—no.
Mr. Ages killed a squirrel and a rabbit. He ate the squirrel. I think the rabbit is for me.
I'm going to start a fire and hope we don't get any attention. It's been quiet so far, here. I found some canned goods in the campgrounds and Mr. Ages barked when there were busy bodies. That high pitched bark/scream.
How miserable to be a dog - a good dog - and be afraid. It's engrained in them to face that danger, that intruder, for us.
I'm going to boil some water because I don't have any. At least there were several cooking pots and stuff in camps. I'll boil it and fill my bottles when it cools.
Mr. Ages drank when we reached the creek—so I got water upstream. No offense to him!
I'm taking the camping supplies I think I can use—most of it's pretty useful, actually.
I got a Black Diamond LED headlamp. That could have been the only thing I found and I’d be delighted. I feel improved… not just my situation.
If, when this is read (if it’s ever even found) things have improved, you might not know, understand or remember how much darker the world was when this was happening.
There are no far off glows of clustered buildings, streetlights, car lights, neon lights. There are no random lights on in the middle of the night where you wonder who is up and why would they be at this hour. There’s nothing in the night, but stars and moonlight.
The air is like ink and the animals in it are excited by the news that they own the world again.
Amongst the sounds it’s easy to lose track of what’s moving where.
Depth perception? Forget it.
Last night I pounced on the dark with my flashlight blazing because I heard “something.”
I found a gnarled tree… it was just a tree. Until I checked elsewhere and when I looked back and I realized
I’d actually seen the skeletally thin busy body had been embracing it before, gray and ragged as bark itself, now slinking toward me.
11:20am
Had salt and pepper from a camp—the rabbit was pretty good.
Mr. Ages got the guts. He’d probably eat the fur too—he was definitely interested, but I put it in someone's suitcase so he couldn't get at it.
I wonder what his life was like. Who was/were his master(s)?
Does he think about them?
It's not as obvious anymore, having been together this long, but it was obvious he missed something.
Separation from me is that much harder for him because of it, I think.
He was frantic when I came back with the car.
I wish I'd done at my house what I did at the second place I stayed at—I left the key in the door, in case someone else came by.
But I hadn't intended on never returning.
How many people is that true for?
Oct 31 8:41am - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
I got a treat—only one pack of graham crackers was
“Don’t ever leave me,” was all I could choke out.
After a couple miles he got antsy and he kept walking in circles in the seat—his bum-hole pursing like kissy-lips.
“You are a bad dog!” I snapped.
I wanted to make him wait a while longer, but if he made a mess then I’d be punished by punishing him.
Then I remembered that I really had to piss.
I braked hard and Mr. Ages poured into the floor space below the seat. I grabbed the accessible travel tissue pack and jumped out and “made due” behind the door after Mr. Ages shoved past me—nearly doing the splits as he went hard on the gravel shoulder.
I didn’t know dogs could get boners shitting. So fucking nasty!
We got back in the car.
I looked at the creature who shared total dependency with me.
“You need to stay with me,” I told him.
Oct 30 9:57am
Am at a state park. I can't help thinking how close I am to where Marie lives.
Henry Ellis said: “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”
There’s something I can't know—not now. I can't bear to. My mind imagines enough—realizing any of it—no.
Mr. Ages killed a squirrel and a rabbit. He ate the squirrel. I think the rabbit is for me.
I'm going to start a fire and hope we don't get any attention. It's been quiet so far, here. I found some canned goods in the campgrounds and Mr. Ages barked when there were busy bodies. That high pitched bark/scream.
How miserable to be a dog - a good dog - and be afraid. It's engrained in them to face that danger, that intruder, for us.
I'm going to boil some water because I don't have any. At least there were several cooking pots and stuff in camps. I'll boil it and fill my bottles when it cools.
Mr. Ages drank when we reached the creek—so I got water upstream. No offense to him!
I'm taking the camping supplies I think I can use—most of it's pretty useful, actually.
I got a Black Diamond LED headlamp. That could have been the only thing I found and I’d be delighted. I feel improved… not just my situation.
If, when this is read (if it’s ever even found) things have improved, you might not know, understand or remember how much darker the world was when this was happening.
There are no far off glows of clustered buildings, streetlights, car lights, neon lights. There are no random lights on in the middle of the night where you wonder who is up and why would they be at this hour. There’s nothing in the night, but stars and moonlight.
The air is like ink and the animals in it are excited by the news that they own the world again.
Amongst the sounds it’s easy to lose track of what’s moving where.
Depth perception? Forget it.
Last night I pounced on the dark with my flashlight blazing because I heard “something.”
I found a gnarled tree… it was just a tree. Until I checked elsewhere and when I looked back and I realized
I’d actually seen the skeletally thin busy body had been embracing it before, gray and ragged as bark itself, now slinking toward me.
11:20am
Had salt and pepper from a camp—the rabbit was pretty good.
Mr. Ages got the guts. He’d probably eat the fur too—he was definitely interested, but I put it in someone's suitcase so he couldn't get at it.
I wonder what his life was like. Who was/were his master(s)?
Does he think about them?
It's not as obvious anymore, having been together this long, but it was obvious he missed something.
Separation from me is that much harder for him because of it, I think.
He was frantic when I came back with the car.
I wish I'd done at my house what I did at the second place I stayed at—I left the key in the door, in case someone else came by.
But I hadn't intended on never returning.
How many people is that true for?
Oct 31 8:41am - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
I got a treat—only one pack of graham crackers was
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