I’m writing in this journal that I found in an empty, unlocked house a few days ago. It was blank so I figured I should take it lest it goes to waste forever. I happened upon it as I searched through what looked like a younger girl’s room to find clothes to fit my ever-shrinking figure. I haven’t had any food in 2 days, and what I did eat last was a sorry excuse for a meal. I feel like I’m losing my mind slowly but surely. This journal almost feels like the first “person” I’ve talked to in a long time. I’ve been walking for days and haven’t seen another soul since the couple that picked me up off the highway. They didn’t talk much or tell me where they were going, but thankfully, they dropped me off at a safe house that had a small amount of canned fruits and vegetables and that I could shelter in for a while. I stayed until I ran out of food and had no choice but to continue my journey West. I left 3 days ago, sleeping in hidden spots in buildings and cars. I see a neighborhood in the distance and hope to find shelter (and something to eat) in an abandoned house again. Maybe one day someone will find this journal and consider it an historical artifact from the days the world descended into chaos. Although, that would suggest that things eventually will get better. Wishful thinking. Goodnight for now.
Last night I ventured into the neighborhood and decided to find shelter along the outer edges. Wandering too far into the mass of houses made me nervous in case there were other occupants inside. Although I’m starving for human interaction, running into anyone now is a terrifying prospect. Who knows what they will be like or what they will want. And all I have to arm myself is a Swiss Army knife. After observing the house I selected for a while behind a nearby tree, I slowly and silently made my way inside, checked every room cautiously, and found a half eaten box of crackers in the kitchen. When I was confident I was by myself, I chose the master bedroom upstairs to sleep for the night. I lit a candle that I had found by the bookshelf downstairs after closing the curtains, making sure no light could be seen from the outside, and enjoyed my small dinner of crackers while I stared at the flame. Again, the silence of the world struck me as I focused on the light. No airplanes, no distant hum of cars. But every cricket chirp, flap of bird wings, or howl of a coyote is so sharp now against the backdrop of utter quiet. I feel like I have superhuman hearing now without the human noise to drown it out. It made me feel connected to my ancient ancestors and what they used to hear. What we are really supposed to hear.
The sun was now fully behind the mountains, only the edges glowed with the remaining daylight. The endless trees started to take on a dark presence, a warning. Just moments ago, the golden hour illuminating half of their trunks and shimmering on the frosty pavement made M feel like she might actually be dreaming. She felt weak from the amount of fearful adrenaline that had been coursing through her body for hours, and to see her last bit of precious warmth diminish behind the horizon, a new panic set in.
The immense weight of how alone she was was palpable. This kind of silence was wholly different from what she had experienced before. She was about to be swallowed in complete darkness.
Thoughts of wondering if she should have escaped or not swam through her head. Would her fate have been better as a slave than to freeze to death out here tonight? No. It gave her a small amount of peace to know that she had chosen correctly. She knew what happened in those camps. She would rather nature take her life instead.
What seemed like ages passed, M just kept putting one numb foot in front of the other. She focused on watching her feet follow the dim line of paint on the highway which put her into a trance. She didn’t notice the headlights far ahead in the distance. She thought she heard a far away hum of an engine but was certain it was her brain playing tricks. But it got louder. M snapped out of it and looked up to see a car was headed her direction. It was so dark that they wouldn’t even see her unless she was right in front of them when they passed her. She had no choice but to stand in the road and hoped they would see her in time and not run her over. She stood in the opposite lane and put her hands over her head waving wildly. Her heart leapt when the car’s brights turned on and slowed down as it approached. She prayed that they were good people. Please be a woman, she thought. The window rolled down to reveal the faces of a man and a woman illuminated dimly by the dashboard. They looked shocked to see anyone out in this vast wilderness. “Are you ok?” The woman asked. M shook her head no but couldn’t make any words come out. The woman opened her door and rushed to M with a blanket. She wrapped M up and rubbed her shoulders. “Come on, dear, get in the car and get warm.”
Without hesitation M got in the backseat, hoping with all of her heart that charity wasn’t completely dead in these godforsaken times.
Never in her life did M imagine herself begging for a stranger to pick her up from the side of a remote highway. The sun was setting fast, she had no food or water and fear of what hid in the pitch dark forest was rising in her stomach. She swore she could feel the temperature drop by the minute and was in no way dressed for the freezing conditions that would take place tonight. It was either die for certain out here in the wilderness, or take a 50/50 chance of getting murdered or not by whoever would be crazy enough to pick up a hitchhiker, especially right now. She was certain that her captors were far behind on the highway and unaware that she had escaped, otherwise she would have seen the canvas-topped army truck coming back for her by now. She planned to hide in the trees if she saw any vehicle driving from that direction just to be sure. Chills ran up her body thinking about the terror she felt as armed men cornered her in her house and forced her into the back of their truck. A man with dead eyes and rotten teeth smiled at her as he tied her hands behind her back and secured her rope to a bar that was welded to the truck bed. She didn’t scream or beg or plead with them. She knew it would do no good. These kind of men were common now and she knew she was doomed to live out the fate of so many that had been captured lately: slavery. Her stomach dropped when she realized there were 6 more women in the back of the truck with her. All of their eyes wild with horror, shivering and crying silently. Nobody dared to talk. She had been in the truck for what she imagined was 8 hours judging by the sunlight she could see through the holes in the canvas, listening to the muffled sound of the men yelling and laughing in the cab. A couple of the women couldn’t hold their bladders anymore and urinated through their clothes which made them start to cry again. After some time passed, she tried to shift her weight since her hands were going numb and she noticed that the constant, violent jostling of the truck seemed to loosen the knot that Dead Eyes had secured her with. In the end she was able to escape her bonds and jump out of the back as the truck slowed to make a sharp turn, apologetically looking back at one woman who watched her with pleading eyes. That stare would haunt M for the rest of her days, she knew. But there was no time to save them all. She ran frantically in the opposite direction toward the setting sun. All she could do now is put one foot in front of the other and hope someone with a shred of decency would see her.
