of a warzone. There are dozens of factions—or tribes—scattered in about a twenty mile radius of Portland. Apparently they spend as much, if not more time, fighting each other as they do the undead. Over half the groups treat women as a commodity! It didn’t take long for us to plummet through the dark ages.
The Genesis Brotherhood is simply one such band. Their distinguishing mark is that they hide behind religion…or their slant on it in any case. I am in no condition to wage a war on them…but I won’t be pregnant forever. Now, more than ever, I am determined to get to Sam’s old complex and have this baby. Then…The Genesis Brotherhood will discover why that old saying exists. You know the one: “Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn.”
Saturday, December 13
I’m trying my best to like Victor Pierce. I am having a really hard time with the fact that this forty-four-year-old man who used to drive a city bus joined up with a pack of sexist degenerates, and “found the err of his ways” after supposedly falling in love with the twenty-year-old girl he knocked up. A girl he considered property at one time.
Today he took a few steps towards my good graces. We hadn’t left this basement in a couple of days and things outside actually seemed quiet. Water was becoming a small concern. After a little discussion, he offered to go out with me on a small foraging run. All we absolutely had to find was a water source. We’re actually surprisingly well off in the food department
A grocery store—mostly sacked and burned out—provided us a little treasure. We found two undamaged water-filtration pitchers and a dozen of the filter-cartridges. I had argued against finding anything of value, but Victor has been reading Sam’s and my entries. He reasoned that most of the looters have been after food and weapons and more obvious supply staples.
The biggest problem was all the dark shadowy places for things to hide in. It was in one of these spots that what had once been a child of no older than seven crept out and up behind me. So much of its face had been torn off…along with both hands. The bones jutting out from both stumps would’ve plunged into my back if Victor hadn’t come around the corner to tell me he had found the pitchers and filters. Luck is a funny thing. One more second and…
I can’t believe that thing snuck up on me. And just what was I doing? Rummaging through a jumble of moldy, useless, partially melted containers of powdered baby formula. More impressive was how Victor took down my would-be assailant…he threw a hand-axe from about twenty feet away. It seems his hobby was competing in lumberjack games at the state Timber Carnival.
It takes all kinds.
Sunday, December 14
I don’t get women with the mentality of Lynn Huffman. She is everything that perpetuates the damsel-in-distress stereotype. Lynn is what men would call an “exotic” beauty. She has olive-toned skin, wavy black hair, and hazel eyes that almost look fake they’re so bright. She is curvy, and even after having given birth a mere two months ago, she has one of those types of bodies that used to give men whiplash when she walked past. Other than that…she’s useless.
Even Jonathan commented on her total dependence on Victor. So I get how women like her end up in the hands of groups like The Brotherhood, but Dominique’s flip has me puzzled. First, she’s a child. According to Jenifer, she didn’t just give up when they were initially captured, and it seems that her virginity was not surrendered willingly. So how did they brainwash her so quickly and completely?
But back to Lynn. She gets edgy and nervous anytime Victor is not in her line of sight. Also—and this was a real kicker—she all but accused me of making a play for Victor. Apparently that was the sole reason I had him join me on yesterday’s foraging run. As if!
Monday, December 15
We’re moving out today. Last night was
The Genesis Brotherhood is simply one such band. Their distinguishing mark is that they hide behind religion…or their slant on it in any case. I am in no condition to wage a war on them…but I won’t be pregnant forever. Now, more than ever, I am determined to get to Sam’s old complex and have this baby. Then…The Genesis Brotherhood will discover why that old saying exists. You know the one: “Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn.”
Saturday, December 13
I’m trying my best to like Victor Pierce. I am having a really hard time with the fact that this forty-four-year-old man who used to drive a city bus joined up with a pack of sexist degenerates, and “found the err of his ways” after supposedly falling in love with the twenty-year-old girl he knocked up. A girl he considered property at one time.
Today he took a few steps towards my good graces. We hadn’t left this basement in a couple of days and things outside actually seemed quiet. Water was becoming a small concern. After a little discussion, he offered to go out with me on a small foraging run. All we absolutely had to find was a water source. We’re actually surprisingly well off in the food department
A grocery store—mostly sacked and burned out—provided us a little treasure. We found two undamaged water-filtration pitchers and a dozen of the filter-cartridges. I had argued against finding anything of value, but Victor has been reading Sam’s and my entries. He reasoned that most of the looters have been after food and weapons and more obvious supply staples.
The biggest problem was all the dark shadowy places for things to hide in. It was in one of these spots that what had once been a child of no older than seven crept out and up behind me. So much of its face had been torn off…along with both hands. The bones jutting out from both stumps would’ve plunged into my back if Victor hadn’t come around the corner to tell me he had found the pitchers and filters. Luck is a funny thing. One more second and…
I can’t believe that thing snuck up on me. And just what was I doing? Rummaging through a jumble of moldy, useless, partially melted containers of powdered baby formula. More impressive was how Victor took down my would-be assailant…he threw a hand-axe from about twenty feet away. It seems his hobby was competing in lumberjack games at the state Timber Carnival.
It takes all kinds.
Sunday, December 14
I don’t get women with the mentality of Lynn Huffman. She is everything that perpetuates the damsel-in-distress stereotype. Lynn is what men would call an “exotic” beauty. She has olive-toned skin, wavy black hair, and hazel eyes that almost look fake they’re so bright. She is curvy, and even after having given birth a mere two months ago, she has one of those types of bodies that used to give men whiplash when she walked past. Other than that…she’s useless.
Even Jonathan commented on her total dependence on Victor. So I get how women like her end up in the hands of groups like The Brotherhood, but Dominique’s flip has me puzzled. First, she’s a child. According to Jenifer, she didn’t just give up when they were initially captured, and it seems that her virginity was not surrendered willingly. So how did they brainwash her so quickly and completely?
But back to Lynn. She gets edgy and nervous anytime Victor is not in her line of sight. Also—and this was a real kicker—she all but accused me of making a play for Victor. Apparently that was the sole reason I had him join me on yesterday’s foraging run. As if!
Monday, December 15
We’re moving out today. Last night was
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