Finally made it to the hotel. I’m on my laptop again. The Inn has power, but who knows how long it will last? Someone said the Inn might have a generator, but we can’t count on it. I’m charging everything chargeable while I can. At least I can tell my previous posts made it . . . if not always at the time I thought they would.
Miraculously, all the Viable Paradise participants made it here. Most before things got so bad. Someone quipped, “I’m not letting something trivial like the end of civilization stop me from attending.” We all needed the laugh.
The whole island is now quarantined. No traffic in or out until further notice. So for good or ill, I’m stuck here. Might as well make the best of it.
Things are not as bad here as on the mainland. Not sure why. The media seems to think that the infection—whatever it is—can only travel so far. Maybe salt water kills it? Day of the Triffids, anyone?
According to the Inn staff, there haven’t been many incidents, here. Everyone pretty much holed up at home as soon as the reports started coming in. The nasty weather doesn’t hurt. Cold and rainy isn’t encouraging for outdoor activities or congregating. The only thing moving are military vehicles that came over on the ferry, which is now grounded. Every once in a while, we hear gunshots. We all just look at one another. What can we do? Not a damned thing, that’s what. Some of the Inn staff is armed.
I only hope none of us have been exposed. No one knows the gestation of this thing or how it passes. Newest reports—as you’ve no doubt heard—put the infection rate at upwards of 30%. So far it’s 100% fatal, but mostly because the zombies have a tendency to take stupid risks that end up getting them killed, or getting shot by either the military or police or heavily armed citizenry. Our group here defies those odds. So far, at least.
I wasn’t able to get through to my mother, yet, because she doesn’t have a decent phone, but I did get a SMS message from my housemate. She’s still alive, and she has joined some of our other friends at their better-defendable house. The cats . . . I don’t know. She had to leave them at the house. Poor Lucy and Zena. I hope they’ll be OK. She put plenty of food out for them both.
We plan to sleep in shifts and take four-hour watches, with teams of at least two looking in every direction. One armed person per team. I last fired a gun when I was eight, so…I’ll be the “other one.” They gave the “other ones” axes, hatchets, baseball bats, 2 x 4s, metal pipes…whatever was on hand. I have a nice hefty axe. I intend to sleep with it.
I’m exhausted. We all are. Gonna get what sleep I can now. More later, if everything comes out OK.
This post is part of Zombie Apocalypse 2012, a multi-blog fictional account of a zombie uprising. Stay tuned for more posts!
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