Last night was my first time behind the wall. The air was dusty, humid, and cloudy. I found an old battery-powered camping lantern. The white light on the sterile concrete made it look like we’d been buried in a catacomb.
The drum was just as loud as normal behind the wall, it seems like nothing can escape the sound.
I couldn’t tell from behind the wall whether or not they came in my house at all. Not knowing is just fine with me.
I spent the morning moving the last of my supplies into the walls in the basement. I put up extra blankets and pillows inside it. I also moved more pictures and books inside. I want my hiding spot to be as cozy as possible.
I filled water till about noon. The plumbing’s still working. It’s the only modern convenience I have left. I haven’t used my IPod at all, or my laptop. I’m saving the batteries for when I really need an emotional pickup.
That’ll be coming shortly; the world has been torn inside out. It’s starting to wear me thin.
I saw Gerald in the afternoon. He said that the only message on the radio was a garbled and static-filled sentence about the counterattack in Minneapolis. There was no other transmission. He said there used to be a warning to get outside the cities. Now there was just the sole message about the counterattack and nothing else. Gerald was annoyed at the lack of details from the radio and anyone that had passed through. The federal government was silent, so were the local authorities.
Gerald said this wasn’t even our world anymore once the drum started.
We walked further down the neighborhood. There were no people, no dogs, not a single thing moved beneath the ivy and howling leaves. We came across a tall brown house with a truck turned over in the driveway. The door was torn off, sitting fifty feet away. The front seat was covered in plants and dried blood. A severed white arm was attached to the black steering wheel. It stunk in the midday heat.
Gerald vomited. I didn’t.
We walked further down to North Memorial Hospital, which sat in the center of our neighborhood. The entire building had been covered in ivy and blue flowers. The doors to the attached parking ramp had been shorn off in metal slashes. A hospital had to be full of supplies.
We decided to explore it tomorrow morning after the drum had stopped
Here is where you can find the other days published thus far from the Greenland Diaries. They sort of introduce you to the series. I publish them once a week. You can learn more about the Greenland Diaries and the variety of books: here. Thank you for reading.