Tuesday, September 20, 2011
9:30 AM
I keep two notebooks now. In my first, I continue to write about things I do during the day, and Olivia's progress in her grief. I write how much it hurts to have Jess gone, and about how well the boys are doing. I write about Ed, and how protective he's become. About how I know he'll take care of me. I write about how much I miss home and how eager I am to get back to what is going to pass for civilisation when the weather changes. I write about missing coffee. Dear lord, how I miss coffee. The raiding parties never bring back enough.
Olivia keeps this one.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
10:09 AM
Twenty days. Twenty days is all it takes for a insanity to inflict a large group of people and strip them down to basic survival instincts: kill or be killed. And that isn't quite right. It only took twenty days for it to become evident, but I'm quite certain that the insanity must have been there before, festering, waiting for a chance to come forth.
Jess was a statistical analyst, and even though the world ended, she couldn't turn it off. She kept notes, like I did, but they weren't journal entries, they were population statistics. And the picture they paint is utterly appalling.
Disregarding all of the other factors, there should be a total of 467 people camped up and down these roads and around the lake and river.
62 people were executed (I refuse to call it purged).
198 people just up and vanished (presumed left).
23 known suicides.
Olivia said she doesn't know what happened to the families that tried to leave. The ones that were around our area when Emily and Vincent were executed just got up and quietly left in the middle of the night. But when others tried to follow, they were stopped at gunpoint, and forced to leave their supplies and gear behind. Word got around really fast that you could leave if you felt the need, but you were taking nothing with you. Somebody would (supposedly) drop you off close to your township of origin, and then you'd be on your own.
Or you could just walk off into the bush.
Everywhere I look, I can see the fear now. Naively, I thought it was due to the virus outbreak, but it's more and more apparent that it's due to having what you thought was a safe haven stripped from you. Now we are prisoners in armed camp, complete with guards and execution squads.
There are about 200 people here still. Surely they aren't all willing to put up with this?
"Of course not, but some of them are scared for their families, and not all of them are even capable of rebellion." And she looked pointedly at me, then.
"A third of those 200 people are kids under the age of 18, a good number of them are women, and let's face it, Anna, most of the stronger and stronger-willed men are the ones behind this anyway.
"Look at your husband as a prime example. Do you really think Ed will leave now? He was under-appreciated as an electrician, was just another fish in the pond, a well-liked and respected one, sure, but still just another fish. Now he's here, he's got a pretty little wife who's never questioned him to look after, boys he can train to become men, and now he's one of the bigger fish. This situation is practically tailor-made to stroke the egos of men who felt inadequate back in civilisation.
"It doesn't take a large number of people to subdue a small population. It only takes the firepower. And one of the first things they did was make sure all the weapons were in the 'right' hands."
7:00 PM
Ed has become very attentive lately. And affectionate. What I took for reassurance has taken on a more sinister tone. He talks a lot about how we'll be safe, and how we can just pick up after we return to town, after the temperature drops.
If any of us are left.
Four more suicides in the last three days. Two by hanging, one walked into the river, and Will Harper's wife took his gun and blew her own head off in the middle of the night last night. Am I an awful person for wishing she had taken Will out with her?
If I had a gun in my hand right now, could I do it?
Olivia went back to the wood crew, looking like a quiet, pale shadow of herself. I'll continue to sit with her after work every evening for a couple of hours, and wake her up each morning. Ed thinks that losing Jess has pushed her over the edge. Let him think that.
She's showed me things over the last couple of days, and shared what she could. For a former Toronto woman, Olivia is frighteningly capable. And I think she's rapidly losing patience with me.
"You'll know it when it happens," she told me. But she wouldn't tell me what 'it' was. "Just be ready, and try to keep your boys close. You can manage that, right?"
You know, I'm so tired of her thinking I can't handle anything. Okay, so maybe she's had reason. But I'm stronger than she thinks. Stronger than Ed thinks, too. In the end it doesn't matter, because no matter what happens, I'll either handle it, or somebody will die.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
6:30 AM
There have been no new arrivals in days, and the camp is condensing. What used to be a small village taking up a large part of the south shore of the lake is now an even smaller cluster of campers and motorhomes. Most of the tents have been dismantled and removed, as survivors lay claim to the better accomodations. Nobody even asks anymore, where the original owners went. They are just gone, and this camper is free. Would you like to move in? It'll be warmer than your tent when the cold hits.
Nobody talks about anything but the most superficial of things. Things that we miss, what our children are learning, food we are going to cook and eat when we get back to civilisation. Do you think there are any cows left? I almost laughed. There were no cows where we were, anyway! A wistful sigh instead, I miss beef, too.
And I want to scream, what makes them think there will even BE civilisation to go home to? This is IT.
And yet, I'm just as guilty as they are. My conversation skills have dwindled down to what book I'm reading, how fast Daniel is getting at digging pit traps, and how great Jason is doing with his marksmanship. I don't even discuss Ed with the other women, I'm afraid of letting out some of what I really feel. Or worse, I'm afraid to discover that they have known all along.
I only have a few more minutes before Olivia leaves and takes this with her. Tonight I'm going to ask Ed if I can take Daniel to the fish station. It's time he learned how to deal with his own catch. Because god knows, I may not be around forever.
7:30 PM
He wouldn't let me take Daniel. He wouldn't let me take Jason. And in response to asking if I could go to the gun range? A puzzled look, and why would you want to go there, Anna? You can't shoot, and there's no reason for you to learn. You just hang tight, everything will be just fine. I'll take care of you. Now go and check on your friend.
Olivia is strung tighter than a drum tonight. She's not talking to me much, either. "Just write, Anna. I don't have the patience for your chatter tonight. Write what you need to, and get it off your chest before you explode."
And so I write.
I've been obsessing over Serena Harper's suicide all day. What finally pushed her over the edge? Why didn't she blow Will's head off at the same time? He was right there. How did she know how to use a handgun? Is it the same as a rifle?
I can shoot a rifle. I wonder if Ed's forgotten that fact. For that matter, I wonder if Ed ever even knew? I used to be a really good shot, too. Almost seven years in army cadets and maybe not top honours in marksmanship, but I could hold my own. I did my fair share of hunting as a teenager, too. It's been 15 years, though. Would it all come back to me if I needed it?
Could I shoot a living, breathing human being? Or would I use it on myself?
I mentioned this to Olivia, and she looked at me like I had two heads. "You? You. Used to be an army cadet. You have got to be kidding me. Have you looked in a mirror lately Anna? Like in the last eight years that I've known you? You're pathetic. All these years I tried to see why Jess stuck up for you, insisted you were worth my time to get to know, and honestly, I tried. But you've never been anything but a stereotypical housewife, completely dependant on her husband for everything, needy, and damn near incapable of farting without Ed's permission."
It's almost time to go, Ed will expect me soon.
And look at what I just wrote, right there. When did this happen to me? How long have I been like this?
Thursday, September 22, 2011
6:00 AM
Olivia's in a bitchy mood this morning. For that matter, so am I. I didn't even bother with the usual good morning, how are you;I just barged in and sat down to write. Why does she let me do this? Oh look, by the look on her face, I bet she's wondering the same thing. Maybe because we are the only two people we can trust. If she trusts me. I'm still not sure. Some days it seems like she cares, else why would she even still be here? If anybody could just walk off into the bush and survive the winter, I believe Olivia is one.
Why ARE you still here, Liv?
I did what she said, and had a good, long look in the motorhome mirror last night. Not the greatest light to be giving myself a vanity check, but I suspect the lantern light was a lot kinder to me than the cold light of day.
Big shadows under my eyes, and I look like I've lost a few pounds. Dark brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail (I'm glad I can't see the gray hairs, I'm sure they've multiplied); long sleeve, button-up shirt over a black tank; typical black pants. I look like what I grew up to be: librarian, mother, housewife.
Who did I used to be? Somebody other than this, that's for sure. When was the last time I even talked about anything other than Ed, the boys, or whatever book I read?
7:00 PM
The raiding party never came back two days ago. The three people who went to look for them yesterday haven't returned either. You can taste the fear in the air now, and it's not all coming from us prisoners. When seven people in power just disappear, the rest of the powerful people start to get nervous, too.
Ed is edgy and told me not to come here tonight. I did anyway, and personally, I think that shocked him into speechlessness. I even managed to snag Daniel on my way out the door. I haven't been this alone, with my own son, in weeks. He's coming with me tomorrow, come hell or high water.
Olivia's trying to engage Daniel in a game of cards, but he's really not into it. He's quiet, not the same exuberant 10 year old he was before this started. He'll still carry on about the frogs and turtles (and snakes, ew), but it's lacking the enthusiasm he had at the beginning. It's obvious that the adults' moods are affecting everybody, even though a great effort has been made at keeping things as normal as possible under the circumstances. Children aren't stupid, they know when something is happening, and they know it's serious, even if they don't know the particulars.
Tonight, Olivia is ... scarey. I don't know how else to describe it. She seems very satisfied, almost smug, and even though she was out with the wood crew on Tuesday and yesterday, I can't help but feel she knows something about the disappearances.
Playing cards with Daniel, she looks like she always has - Aunt Ollie, Jess's wife, off-beat city gal. But when I first stepped into her camper, towing Daniel behind me, she looked like a stranger, and not a friendly one, either.
Friday, September 23, 2011
10:46 AM
"You're on your own now."
That's what Olivia said to me this morning when I knocked on her door. She didn't let me in, she just handed me my notebook and told me to keep it close, not that it would matter soon. Could you get any more cryptic, Olivia?
So now I'm sitting at the fish station, waiting for my ship to come in. Oh sorry, I couldn't resist. we're all waiting for the boats to come in with the early morning catch. There's been less and less caught in the last few days, and this morning there aren't as many boats where I can see them on the lake. They must be looking for a new spot, in the deeper parts of the lake. This lake is pretty freaking huge, at least 12 kilometres long, it's a long way to chase the fish around.
Daniel is with me today. Even Ed's calm reasoning wouldn't budge me, and one Daniel started to whine that he really needed a break from "mudding" (the kids' term for catching reptiles), I could tell Ed had lost and we took off before he could come up another reasonable argument.
He's turned into such a frustrating man. Everything I say, he takes and makes it so that my fear sounds ridiculous. He has a rational excuse for everything. I feel like I'm arguing with a brick wall, and by the time he finishes with me, I am convinced that I'm imagining things, again. Taking Daniel today feels like the first solid step into regaining myself, and I couldn't even do that alone. It took a 10 year old's whiny voice to counteract the reasonable.
Daniel is attempting to throw knives into a chunk of wood. I guess I ought to stop him before somebody else does. Fillet knives make for terrible throwing, kiddo.
