Stories in a Lost World: Kristy

Stories in a Lost World: Kristy

L.C. Mortimer

For the boy who never gave up on me

Copyright: L.C. Mortimer
Published: 19th May 2015
Publisher: Amazon Kindle
The right of L. C. Mortimer to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

Kristy is an average college student when the new plague sweeps Kansas. Lost in this new world of pain, death, and creatures who return from death, she is left with her two roommates to try to make sense of everything happening around her.

This is her journal.

*This is the final book in a 3-part series.*

Contents

June

Author's Note

Author

Other Books by L.C.

June 1st

What is there to say? I’m the one who found Danielle. I heard the gunshot and I knew. I immediately knew. I’d been sitting around, wondering why she kissed me in front of everyone, but then I knew. It wasn’t an I-love-you kiss. It was a goodbye kiss.

And now she’s gone.

I didn’t scream when I saw her. Keith was right behind me when I ran up the stairs, and he held me back, keeping me from going into the bedroom. He wrapped his arms around me and kept me safe while I stared at her.

Danielle.

My Danielle.

There are plenty of things to say about death and even more to say about suicide, but I have nothing to say. For once in my life, I’m silent. I have nothing.

I understand why she did it.

And I don’t blame her.

But that doesn’t make me any less sad to lose the one good thing in my life.

It doesn’t make me any less lonely.

It doesn’t make this hurt any less.

June 2
nd

Keith and Paul buried her body. I don’t know where. I’m not going to visit the grave. I only know that they carried her far enough away that it wouldn’t bring zombies to the house. I should probably be a better person and go visit her, and go talk to her or something, but I can’t.

I won’t.

I don’t want to think of dead Danielle.

I want to think of Danielle who made me smile.

Danielle who made me laugh.

Danielle who kept me warm at night and hopeful when I was feeling down.

Danielle who was my everything.

And now I have nothing.

While the guys were gone, Bridget found a bottle of bleach and cleaned the bedroom, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t go back into that bedroom. I asked Bridget to bring me my things, and she did. It's not like I have much left that's "mine." When we left our apartment by school, I only brought a backpack.

As it turns out, living at the end of the world means that people become more important than stuff.

And I've lost almost everyone I care about.

I moved my things into Keith’s room. I’m not asking him if I can stay with him. I’m just doing it. It might seem weird and presumptuous, but I don't want to be alone. I can't. Danielle and I were best friends for so long. Yeah, our feelings made us a little more than friends, but our roots ran deep. We were close for a long time. My world feels dead without her.

I don’t know if I’m going to sleep with Keith in the sexual sense, but I’m definitely not sleeping alone. Not after that. Not ever again. The only time I feel safe is when I’m in bed, when I'm curled up beneath the covers. I know they won't protect me from anything, but I feel like they would. I’m not giving that safety up on principle or some long-forgotten moral code. Forget that.

If Keith didn’t want me in his bed, then he shouldn’t be so strong.

June 3
rd

Keith was not happy about me sleeping in his room, but he didn’t complain too much. Once he realized I wasn't going to leave, he kind of just let it go. I know for a fact that I don't snore and I certainly don't kick in my sleep, so he has nothing to be upset about. Well, except for maybe the BO. I do my best to keep that under control, though.

We all do our best.

Bridget and Paul are already paired off. They just laughed when Keith told them what I did. They didn’t make any jokes about us being a couple. It’s only been three days since she died, after all, but they gave each other these knowing glances.

Like since Keith is a man, somehow I’m going to fall in love with him. Fuck that.

I finally cried today. I went outside into the woods and let myself have a complete breakdown. No Infected came by. I got lucky. I shouldn’t have been so careless, but I couldn’t bring myself to cry in the house. It’s too raw there. Things are too personal there, too broken. Even though I hate the zombies, I don't think I'm as scared of them as I should be, at least not when I'm just dealing with one or two. When there's a group of them, I definitely run, but out here? There are no groups. Everything's just dead.

The woods were quiet when I sobbed. I remember when there used to be more than silence. I remember the sounds of deer and crickets and birds and chipmunks. I remember going to the woods and wondering what every little noise was.

Now?

Now I'm alone.

I cried in the woods for a long time. It was better than the house. At least in the woods, when I cry, I can pretend that I’m crying over something else and not my dead girlfriend. At least I can pretend that I’m crying because I had a bad day at work or because someone at school made fun of my mom. I can pretend that I’m upset about traffic or a breakup or some equally trite problem.

At the house, everything is too real. Keith and Bridget and Paul are there. They're there and they know why I'm upset. In the darkness of the woods, though, I'm alone. I'm in solitude. I'm by myself and I like it that way.

I should have known this was coming. I don't know why I didn't do more to stop it. Is her death my fault? I'd like to think that it's not, but I don't know anything anymore.

Danielle was damaged. We all knew it. It was obvious. She hasn’t been the same since the guys got here. I’m not blaming them. I’m just saying that in the last few weeks, she really spiraled. Every time she saw a little boy, she thought of her brother and just freaked out. Then once, there was a zombie walking right at her, and she just froze.

Didn’t even
try
to get it.

I killed it and we escaped, but barely.

That was when I knew Danielle was broken. I don’t mean that in the way people say when they’re going through a breakup, like, “My heart is so broken.”

No, when I say broken, I mean that Danielle was so damaged that she was a shell of who she used to be.

Nobody wants to see someone they love going through that.

Nobody wants to see
anyone
going through that.

Somehow, knowing that she was lost doesn’t make her death any easier. It’s finally starting to hit me that she isn’t coming back. When I finished crying in the woods, I went home to my new bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Then I cried there some more until Keith came quietly into the room and crawled into bed with me. He rubbed my back for awhile until I stopped crying, until I fell asleep, until I finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, he was gone. Now I'm alone in our room, the room that I forced him to share with me, and I'm scared because I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.

June 4
th

When you’re lost, you don’t realize it until it’s too late.

You don’t realize how wrong things are until you’re going crazy.

Today, I’m floating through the world as it currently exists, wishing I had something to numb the pain.

Anything.

June 5
th

Keith brought me vodka. He left this morning before anyone woke up and went to three different houses until he found a bottle of vanilla flavored vodka.

He doesn’t know it’s my favorite.

He doesn’t know that before the apocalypse, I’d drink this every weekend with Danielle and Bridget.

Keith and I drank the entire bottle alone in his room. When it was gone, we kissed until I stopped caring about Danielle, then we both went to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

June 6
th

The house is basically secure. We have water, a car, and a place to sleep that keeps us dry and safe. What else do we need? Keith and I made a list:

• Vodka
  
• More vodka
  
• Other types of liquor if possible (Not just for fun - for sanitizing wounds and stuff, too)
  
• Food
  
• Tools for growing our own food (hoes, rakes, shovels)
  
• Medication
  
• Rain gear
  
• Boots
  
• Weapons
  

Some of the things we’ll be okay without, of course. It’s more of a wish list than anything else, but what I wish for most of all is that the damn apocalypse had never happened.

What I wish for most of all is that Danielle was okay.