THIRTY-SIX

My Diary: Natalie Black

May 20, 202-

Something is wrong with me.

For a while, I thought this ringing sound was my imagination. Then I decided it was a temporary thing induced by stress. Don’t people get that? Tinitus? Is that how you even spell it?

But once we started walking, the ringing got a lot worse. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s exhaustion. All I know is I can’t ignore it any longer. I have to face the reality that I could be sick. And in this new world, there are no hospitals, no doctors to call, no searching for your symptoms on Google. All you can do is wait and hope for the best.

Seth will have to take care of the boys if something happens to me, but what exactly will he do in a world where men like that awful Floyd are willing to eat humans? It hasn’t even been a full week since the pulse. It shouldn’t be like this yet, but it is because there are so many people who have nothing. So many people forced out of their homes by fire or hunger or pure desperation. I realize now Thomas could never have protected his supplies, not indefinitely. There are just too many people. Too many people.

I was afraid Tim wouldn’t let us in, but Blaise’s trick worked after all. Tim is a small man with silvery hair and a spooky smile. He showed us to his living room, where we all collapsed to the floor. He brought us peanuts and beef jerky and water. Normally I would never eat beef jerky, but a girl can’t help it when she’s as hungry as I was.

While we were eating, Seth explained what happened to Blaise, but it turned out Tim already knew about the cancer. It’s part of the reason they wanted to recruit help, in case Blaise couldn’t make it all the way. You can tell Tim is impressed by the way Seth took charge, and especially how he was man enough to give Blaise relief at the end. So far, no one has said anything about Floyd and his cannibal friends. What’s the point?

I’m proud of Seth for rising to the occasion again, like on the day of the pulse, when he took us to buy groceries. But I’m afraid it won’t last. I’ve come to understand there’s something inside that won’t let him stay the course. In times of stress he is as good as they come, but Seth doesn’t know what to do when everything is quiet. He’s partial to noise.

Like this noise in my ears. Sometimes it hurts and sometimes it makes me feel alive. Focused. Like I could run a four-minute mile or solve a complex algebra problem or see the look on someone’s face from ten miles away. I know that sounds crazy, but I don’t know how else to describe it. Or maybe I feel this way because, for the first time in my life, I know who I am.

After we ate, I asked Tim if I could put the boys down somewhere. He showed me to a room with a double bed, and when I checked on them a few minutes later, they were both out cold. Poor things.

Afterward, Tim explained how his group had visited the warehouse three times to scout its defense. Most of the guards, they believe, are out front where the crowd of hungry people is gathered. The back side of the property is surrounded by trees, and yesterday, during a shift change, they realized a sniper was posted on the warehouse roof. I can hardly believe that. It’s like we’re at war over a Walmart. And Tim says our best chance to get into the warehouse is from the back. Which is where the sniper is. Which scares me to death.

It was several hours past dark when someone knocked hard on the door. I had fallen asleep on the couch and nearly jumped out of my skin. It turned out these were Tim’s friends, Billy and Miguel, who had been scouting the warehouse again. They were so nervous and excited they could barely talk. Apparently, while prowling behind the building, they heard someone talking and then a gunshot. A little while later they found bodies, three that had been dead for a while and one guy who had just been shot. They don’t know if it was a fight between the guards or if someone else is also scouting the warehouse.

I’ll tell you what I know. I’m terrified. People are dying. My husband put a man down like a dog, a man Floyd and his friends are probably eating right now. Just awful.

I’ve been trying to put all this out of my mind, pretend like it isn’t happening. The whole reason we came here is to survive, but so far the warehouse seems like nothing but death. This is a place I’m supposed to take my children?

In the morning, Billy and Miguel and Tim want to fire at the sniper to provide cover for a second, stealth group. Seth and Thomas prefer to make contact with the sniper first, like try to negotiate a peaceful approach. Neither of these options sound very good to me. I don’t think there’s any way we’ll get inside the warehouse alive.

Larry spent much of this discussion rubbing his ears, or staring at the ceiling, which is strange because typically he can’t take his eyes off Skylar. I’m beginning to wonder if something is wrong with him. What if I’m not alone? What if Larry hears it too, this ringing? I would ask him about it if he weren’t so creepy, and if I weren’t so frightened.

I never heard any ringing before all this, which makes me wonder if the pulse affected my mind somehow. Don’t our bodies use electricity to send signals to and from the brain? Since the pulse broke all the electrical things, does that mean it broke me, too?

As the night wore on, I wondered if these men couldn’t agree on a plan because none of them wanted to put themselves in harm’s way. And men are like that. All talk talk talk. You brag about your guns, about how tough you are, but unless you’re a soldier with field expertise, you don’t know what real battle is like. It makes you sound ridiculous. And if you’re reading this, and you’re one of those Second Amendment wackos, then yes, I’m talking to you.

I haven’t bathed in a week. I’m grimy and sweaty and I’m sure I smell like a wild animal. I’m sure we all do, but no one seems to notice anymore.

Eventually a plan was agreed upon: In the morning, Billy will approach the building from the front, where the crowd is, and attempt to reason with the guards. He believes they’ll relent if faced with a real threat.

“Let’s give them one chance to back down,” Billy told us. “If he declines, we regroup behind the warehouse and mount an assault.”

Even though no one asked my opinion, I explained the boys would go nowhere near the warehouse until we know for sure it’s safe. To my relief, the men agreed. They plan to leave the boys with Skylar and me deep in the trees until the situation is stable.

I’m so happy when the boys are asleep, because I can’t bear for them to endure this suffering. I’m afraid they are going to be scarred for life.

But if tomorrow isn’t the end, maybe those scars are what they’ll need to survive.