i think i am safe now. for the time being. we’ve holed up in a costco, me and rajeesh. he wasn’t much of a help, honestly, scrambling around behind me all panicked and sweaty for most of the way here. i think he’d be a goner in under five minutes if he were left on his own, but i couldn’t bear to leave him stuck in that wendy’s alone. i have this stupid thought- probably absorbed from too many movies and comic books- that maybe he’ll be indebted to me in some way, might save my life in turn sometime down the line. for now, he’s curled up by the deli, eating rotisserie chicken with his hands and crying.
there are other people here too, survivors who were smart enough to seek out a secure shelter with supplies. definitely not enough people to exhaust the warehouse anytime soon, but things might get tense. there’s an older korean guy, i don’t remember his name. park something. i don’t know how he got here safely- he only has a bike and a bread knife. i hope it doesn’t sound racist, but he sort of reminds me of your dad. he seems to like me more though. he was a real help in getting the other survivors organized. pulling down mattresses, setting up pretty good semblences of living spaces. he keeps talking about going back for his wife and son, bringing them here. people are trying to convince him not to go back out, but he’s stubborn.
there are a few families, a russian couple with a young daughter. they argue a lot, and i feel bad for the kid. there’s a older guy, clint, who’s a high school football coach. he’s been the muscle man, very useful in helping me and mr. park get stuff down from shelves and set up the blockade around the warehouse exits. his son is about my age, but isn’t handling the situation well. he spends most of his time alone in the produce room crying. i think his mom died on their way here. there’s also another lady, maybe in her late 30s, with a teenage daughter. both of them seem pretty high maintanence- they were way excited about the supply of shampoo and immediately set up camp in that area. we’ve had to yell at them a few times to not waste water. the mom’s been giving me looks, pretty suggestive ones. it’s been two weeks since shit really hit the fan, and i think she’s already wanting to repopulate the planet with me. gross.
i miss you. a lot. of course there’s an endless supply of office supplies here, something no one else was interested in. i have all these notebooks, and i’m going to write you a letter every day if i can. when i get out of here, i’ll find a way to get them to you. i don’t really know how people sent stuff to each other before the postal service, honestly. i assume they sent messengers on horses. maybe there will still be horses alive. i don’t know if they eat animals- they don’t in most zombie movies i’ve seen. if so, i’ll find a horse and get to you. all the cars i saw on my way here were abandoned and have gridlocked most of the roads. that scared me, in a really unsettling way. been dreaming about them, rows and rows of cars filling the tollway like it’s rush hour all day long, streaks of blood leaving handprints along the doors and windows like they were all dragged out. i hope i never see your altima among them. i hope you’re okay. i need you to be okay.