Cricket: When it hurts to feel (P9)

I had made my way over to the little place that I call home now. I haven't seen the Elephant since our encounter at the liquor store. It wasn't until now that point that I started to think about leaving this "safe" place. I have been doing great, but seeing that thing really puts a thought in my head. Is it getting worse, this plague-voodoo shit? In all honesty, that thing didn't come after me for some reason or another, and that kind of thing doesn't sit right with me. I just don't have the patience. I was never sure that I'd find anybody, because I haven't yet. When I think about it now, I can't help but think that I can't be the only smart person out here. This place has turned into a panorama of hell on earth, and that can't be helped. However, I know I'm not the only one with a strong will-power and common sense, or could I? I know that the people that I didn't give a rat's ass about can't still be living, well at least not all of them. With the right kind of luck, you would be able to know how to survive. Either that or die rather quickly. God, what I'd give for a pizza.

The inside of my little 'den' looks like an office building that housed a hoarder and a junkie. Papers all over the place spilling over the desks and cabinets and pill bottles with no prescription galore. I haven't had the time to fix it. I kind of like it. Makes me feel like I've done something to improve the chaos that was here before by adding my own. Even though I only bring in food and weapons. I have a small cache of ammo that I haven't touched yet. Never needed to with my running ability. I have a bag full of food and booze that I just brought, and I empty it out on the small coffee table that I have. There are stains on the furnished wood and burns from left over joints. There is an ash tray, but that's for cigarettes; I hate to mix marijuana and tobacco, except when I smoke them together. The couch that I'm sitting on is a comfortable love seat that I had found in the other room. Tinted some kind of algae green color.

I set up the tall bottle of liquor on the table and get up to fetch a shot glass. Yes, I still have a little bit of civilization in me. Plus, this way I can monitor my shots. I don't usually drink during the day, but its okay. The way this place is set up, I'm glad I didn't have to go through the trouble of making it myself. Seems as if the people that were here before couldn't handle being held up in a place like this with that shit going on outside. It isn't that easy to get in here, and that's why I like it. Right outside the door is a barricade with a small tunnel type deal that runs underneath it. And as far as I've seen, those things aren't cognitively advanced. Seeing as only if they have no legs, and were crawling beforehand, is the only way they'd figure it out, I bet my money on this place. After this little endeavor (going from the inside out) there is a type of maze of hallways. This room happened to be at the end of a hallway, with the door directly facing a long stretch of turned over tables and cabinets. Through the hallway, you find yourself in that maze I talked about. Those zombies aren't your average lab rats, they're much more stupid. And without the right set of senses, they couldn't find out this place even if they wanted to get that far. After the short labyrinth, you have the EXIT door that no one used to use when they were alive. I've set a primitive kind of trip-wire that I haven't heard a peep from ever since I got here. Which is a good thing.

Another thing that was a plus when I moved into this place, no blood. There wasn't a spot or droplet of any kind when I got in here that first day. That's how I knew it was "safe". For now anyway.

I plopped back on the love-seat, and looked at the bottle of Whiskey. I'll fix to have a drink, that thing I saw at the store, it still doesn't sit right with me. There was something too odd about it, and I don't like this feeling of fear that has grown on me like a mushroom from some roll-playing game. I pour a shot into the glass and breathe. As I put the ounce of liberal thinking to my lips, the smell burns my nose. Tilting back, I swallow and I can feel my thoughts returning to their hidden places in my mind. There isn't a thing in this new world that I have thought about that wasn't getting food or some kind of other survival necessity. After seeing that Elephant Zombie... everything just didn't seem normal anymore. Ha, normal now is a fucking hell-hole.

The 1 ounce shot glass that's in my hand is empty. My mind not so much, yet. I put the glass on the table and fill it up again. The liquor is at the very top of it and I breathe. With my head titled back, the doors of my mind close. I can feel everything receding back to where they came from. The head change comes along with that coat of warmth that you get when you drink hard liquors. I fill up the glass four more times and light a cigarette out of the carton that I already had. Eating escapes me as I sit there, buzzed and a little delirious; at least the room doesn't spin.

When you have to drink by yourself, being an alcoholic isn't' too bad. And when you are drinking by yourself and you seem to be the only person stuck in the fucked up new world, getting really blitzed isn't too bad. What, is someone going to call the police? The worst part of it is that there isn't anybody to call the police. And not to be sentimental about it or anything, but I'd fucking do anything to have someone call the police, or at least take a shot with me. I inhale and exhale the cigarette away. And then I light another, and then another. There isn't anything that I could do now that I've been drinking. Out here, you find that bubble you just don't want to pop. There wasn't any kind of CD player or stereo that I could listen to. If there was, I wouldn't have anything to listen to that wasn't played out recording from the S.O.S. signals that had been playing on repeat since this thing happened. What I'd give to listen to some music. Fucking stupid ass plague shit.

I try to stand up, do some walking around the room. Its desolate and everything just feels empty. Besides the coffee table and the love-seat, there is another desk and a cabinet. I found the ammunition in the cabinet and I found a knife in the drawer of the desk. Everything else was just paper. Documents that didn't manage to do anything I suppose. I have this feeling that the people that were here before were some kind of bankers or some other dip-shit trade. There was a rug on the floor, and it was a nice addition to this place. I imagine some times that they went out of there way to put it here after the shit hit the fan. Tried to make a little more cozy. There are no pictures of art, and not a single sliver of creativity in here except for my stuff neatly put away in the corner. I can only imagine that this is why they had been forced to leave. Everything feels like static in here. With no kind of sincere image to look at, what would you do but wander your mind in search for questions that just couldn't be answered. But me, I have my ways around such things. And that's why I got up, no that I've remembered. I opened up the desk and inside was my stash. A giant pouch or medical marijuana. The keys to the kingdom. A kingdom that didn't have those fuckers outside.

Alright, its not much of a palace, but it gets my mind off being drunk. Sometimes, the things just go hand in hand. The night is creeping up and I have all the time in the world to do whatever it is that I want. And right now, as a sit in this tiny fort, I can feel the walls suffocating me. But I'm too smart to go outside. Soon anyway, I'd be happy just to sit in here. Doing absolutely nothing until I wanted to go out and search for something that you'd call life. Being content is hard around here in this new world. You kind of just stumble on it sometimes though, which is a sanctuary in itself.