Last words

(Relax--this is for Blog Like It's the End of the World meme)

They're breaking the windows downstairs. I piled my books and heavy storage bins against the bedroom door. At best, it will buy me ten seconds.

I have no way out of here. I live in a metropolitan area, dammit. I may have been bitten, and I hope I can still type this before I lose all functioning.

I do have this bottle of aspirin and some mead I 'borrowed' from my housemate. I'm not Ash. I just want to die in as little pain as possible.

If I am not dead, then I'll be unconscious. I won't feel them eat me. I have rehearsed many times. I'm shoving pills and alcohol in my mouth while I type. Go, multitasking.

I rehearsed my final message a thousand times. All my friends, all my relatives, all my crushes, all my lost connections, all my unfulfilled dreams, all my missed opportunities. It's about me. I know. How lame.

So, if there is anyone alive:

You dumb fucks finally destroyed us all.
I love you, all of humanity.
I hope my cadaver poisons them.

Gotta go rest. The pills are taking effect and they're breaking down the door.

Things I learned today

1) Mead and aspirin is a shitty way to commit suicide. Nothing like vomiting all over yourself while seeing rotting arms crashing through your door.

2) Baker's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable is heavy enough to knock back a zombie--OK, a skinny teenage girl of a zombie. But anything works.

3) I got a frantic call from the housemate. She had gone to a podiatrist appointment. Her husband is dead, she is somewhere between Belmont and Watertown, and she is scared, not sure how long she can manage, but unhurt. Could I hold down the fort until she gets home?

The story of the house was that during the Blizzard of '78, all her neighbors and friends came to her house because they knew she would cook them food and take care of them.

I have to do this, because I said I would.

I checked my body for marks, and there is a red mark on my arm . . .maybe the teeth did not go all the way in. See, I was riding home, and this person leaned on to me. Not close enough, because I ran out of the car, and got into the next empty one.

Pardon me, I have to clean up the broken glass and block the windows some other way. Better put on some shoes

Attention friends list

Is anyone still alive out there? Please call or IM me. I have my phone with IM, something I rarely do.

State of things:

I called everyone I knew. Work, other work, therapist, etc. Only one answered. The phone receptionist for the other work is OK, unharmed, though very shaky. She doesn't know where the other boss is. She's in the top floor and doesn't want to get out. I don't blame her.

Doors are bolted. After much trial and error, I got some old wood on the broken front windows. Shop class came in handy.

Housemate check:

M--just called. She is resting before walking away some more. She is whispering. She can hear them.

K--alive. On the third floor. He's offered to run to the store, the local gun dealer, whatever. This is Dorchester, right? Where's an armed militia of teenage thugs?

G--His girlfriend told me what happened. He fought the good fight against them in the lab, but they overpowered him.

M--M's husband, died in crash.

B--was at the Cape. Called and tried to be cheerful. They have a generator and dry goods, so their stay will be a little longer, ha ha.

I wish I was that cheerful.

At least there is enough canned and dry food to last us. How long, I don't know. I'm not going to eat anything unless I'm real hungry.

This house was there during the Blizzard of 78. It's going to be here during the end of the world.

Update: There's the militia of armed teenage thugs. Awfully polite, too. Rang the door bell and asked if I was OK. They haven't mowed down all of them, but they are trying. I think one of them is trying to cover up a laceration, though.

I offered them dinner, but they were good. I got a pistol from one of them. I guess they want to arm the survivors. I guess I'll have to use the downtime to practice.

Out and out begging

If there is anyone alive and about in Watertown, please call me about picking up a little white-haired lady. I haven't heard back from her. I'm hoping she's OK.

There seems to be some confab going on in the living room. Weird lot--people who know the other people in the house, teenagers, some people who managed to get out of the nearby school, some folks from the T. I swore I recognized a local politician. One of the people is trying to show how to cook chili in the fireplace. The block is quiet--for now. Codman Square Cemetery was a mess after 'they' came. No one can count the bodies right now. No one is sure who was dead and who was . . . no longer undead, if it makes sense.

Anyway, the generator is puttering out. If the phone lines are disconnected--I'll find some way to find you.

Update: Rumors are Logan Airport is quarantined. Please confirm. I have friends who were supposed to be going to Italy today. I'd like to know if they are alive, dead, or after my sweet gray matter