| General Fiction posted March 3, 2014 | Chapters: |
...5 6 -7- 8... 
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News outside of our circle and within.
A chapter in the book Yosemite
Others, Endowments & Repetition.
by michaelcahill
| Background Survivors of a catastrophe of unknown origin attempt to survive in Yosemite. Relationships form that have a bearing on that survival. |
WITH THE MESSAGE DISAPPEARANCE MOST PEOPLE MISSED CHAPTER SIX. IT IS STILL PAYING IF YOU WOULD READ IT BEFORE THIS ONE TO AVOID GETTING LOST. MIKEY
Previously, Joe died overnight for no obvious reason bringing a foreboding mode to the group. A poodle wandered into the campsite startling the group and a disheveled woman followed shortly thereafter. After some questioning the woman began to tell her story of survival. It differed considerably from our group. We continue the story as she is addressing the group.
“There were only six of us initially but, the number grew one at a time to over thirty. Of course, there was much attrition along the way. Four or five would straggle in and maybe one or two would still be alive the next day. We stopped counting the dead. The ravine where we dumped the bodies was a huge and foul smelling pit of death. Yet, with time we were unaffected even by the smell. Those that succumbed soon became a part of the pile. My little poodle, Sprinkles, seemed immune. She ran everywhere seemingly unconcerned. I know that the key for my survival and sanity was to embrace something normal, and nurture and preserve it at all costs. It was that little dog that saved me and kept my wits sharp.”
I looked keenly from face to face as she spun her tale. Most just vacantly listened with little reaction. Jennifer had a decidedly negative reaction. She seemed coiled like a viper ready to strike. I made note of this, fully aware of the truth of her instincts.
Christine, on the other hand, seemed almost enchanted. But then I knew that she, and to a lesser degree myself,would be someone capable of engaging the devil without truly being in danger. For Christine and I the intrigue was too tantalizing not to pursue. For Jennifer, I suspect an untimely demise was already being plotted against our visitor. Jen spoke first,
"Where were these people coming from and what did they say? What did they see? I can't believe you just sat there and did nothing while a bunch of zombies wandered into your camp. What the hell were you doing, just waiting for death?"
"I don't know. We were in shock. We didn't know each other. We didn't have any idea where anyone we did know had gone or if they were alive. No one was in charge or wanted to be. We were looking for people to show up and rescue us. We were hoping for people to wander in. Each new person gave us hope and then the reality of who they were sent us further into depression. You're probably right. We were waiting to die."
Linda jumped in at that point,
"We're not, you get that? We are not waiting to die. So, if you are looking for a cozy place to dig a grave and take a nap, this isn't it."
Linda was showing a side of herself that I hadn't seen before. It was a side that I liked. It was a side that gave me hope. The mother-vibe she gave off was now more of a mother lioness protecting her cubs. It was not something to mess with. She was proving to be more of an asset than I had previously thought her to be. Linda had one other question,
" What do you want on your grave-marker if we bother to bury you and mark your grave?"
"I won't be needing a grave. That is why I left. I wasn't about to sit there and die. Death isn't an option for me."
"Okay then. These people you were with. Do you think any of them may have followed you?"
"No, there's no chance of that. They were committed to sitting there and waiting for rescue. Nothing I said mattered. They were gone." She eyed Jennifer. She had no fear in her eyes.
"So tell us the rest of it." Jen eyed the newcomer. She had contempt in her eyes.
The story continued:
“Now we had water and fuel a plenty. We had several cars nearby and the fuel within. We had Angel Falls and all the water we could drink. Of course, the fuel created heat to boil it to our somewhat paranoid satisfaction. Stupid really, Sprinkles drank out of it and even swam in it. There was limited food however. There was wildlife and plant life. But, all was of a suspicious nature. Is that the herb or berry that kills us all? It was impossible to know especially early on. As time went by we had an uneasy speculation that what had managed to survive was okay.”
She carried on for some time with her story with Jen and Linda glaring at her while Christine looked at her delighted.
"People dying was a very matter of fact revelation and carried little emotion other than a foreboding fear of what it might foretell for us personally. Even attractions and affections were of a superficial nature. It was as though we had a universal instinct against attachment or reliance. Anybody could die anytime. That was the reality. As for the darling little toy poodle had it been a pet pig we would’ve eaten it. I know for most of them that when our food supply became more critical it would not receive our last little morsel of food. Indeed, it would probably be the last little fluffy morsel. For the time being, she was kinda cute and provided some solace by being a watchdog of sorts."
It was clear that, like Jennifer, Sprinkles' survival instincts were fully functional.
I think that what disturbed us most was that there were nomadic stragglers wandering around Yosemite on their own. Our vision of stable campsites of hardy survivors was somewhat shattered by this knowledge.
Along with the uncertainty of what constituted a safe area was now made more ominous by what unknown person might pop up out of nowhere. Visions of zombies and chainsaw wielding maniacs brushed through our nervous sub conscious.
Our new member was named Annette and everyone called her Annie though she never said, “call me Annie” or “most people call me Annie”. Her little dog was named Mr. Sprinkles, as we already knew, I assume because he was excitable and bladder challenged when excited. If that wasn’t the case then it should’ve been.
He was snowy white with what looked like cinnamon powder gingerly distributed all over his face and nowhere else. Christine was quick to note that he was very gifted in the area of genitalia. She delighted in how uncomfortable it made everyone when she referred to it. I found it hilarious and often joined in straight faced discussions about it to everyone’s discomfort.
“Can you imagine if a human male had those proportions?” Christine would exclaim.
“Yes, it is a tremendous burden I must admit.” I would deadpan.
Another problem was beginning to become manifest. Our former board and care clients were quickly running out of meds with no replacements in sight. I had cut down on dosages to extend the supply. There were already delusions and conversations with entities the rest of us were unable to see.
Where tension and stress are the norm, it is sometimes not readily apparent just how desperate things have become. I know that most of us had embraced a murderous mindset. As I watched Tonnie slip further and further into her under-medicated insanity, it occurred to me that the time to deal with it might be fast approaching. But what to do? I quickly thought to myself, “kill her”.
I suppose that what shocked me was how disengaged that thought entered my mind. My instinct, I was aware, was to help her and protect her. Whatever pride I had in that was sorely tempered with the caveat, “but not at my expense”.
To further complicate matters two of our former clients were parolees. They were not just psych patients. They were predisposed to criminal behavior. On top of this was a host of minor perceived slights and irritations. David Vernon McMahon was convinced we were all against him even more than he usually was. Nathan, the other male parolee, was eerily silent. He was the one that worried me.
On top of all that, Jennifer was pregnant again complete with all the idle speculation that came with it. In spite of rumors to the contrary, once again it is not me. I admit though a certain sense of relief that she will be in full survival mode. It has to be Carlos, again. What an idiot. How could this be the time and place for that?
My friendship with Christine is a major thorn in everyone’s foot. There is jealousy and I understand that. But, I am used to being in that situation and, frankly, I don't really care what they think.
Previously, Joe died overnight for no obvious reason bringing a foreboding mode to the group. A poodle wandered into the campsite startling the group and a disheveled woman followed shortly thereafter. After some questioning the woman began to tell her story of survival. It differed considerably from our group. We continue the story as she is addressing the group.
“There were only six of us initially but, the number grew one at a time to over thirty. Of course, there was much attrition along the way. Four or five would straggle in and maybe one or two would still be alive the next day. We stopped counting the dead. The ravine where we dumped the bodies was a huge and foul smelling pit of death. Yet, with time we were unaffected even by the smell. Those that succumbed soon became a part of the pile. My little poodle, Sprinkles, seemed immune. She ran everywhere seemingly unconcerned. I know that the key for my survival and sanity was to embrace something normal, and nurture and preserve it at all costs. It was that little dog that saved me and kept my wits sharp.”
I looked keenly from face to face as she spun her tale. Most just vacantly listened with little reaction. Jennifer had a decidedly negative reaction. She seemed coiled like a viper ready to strike. I made note of this, fully aware of the truth of her instincts.
Christine, on the other hand, seemed almost enchanted. But then I knew that she, and to a lesser degree myself,would be someone capable of engaging the devil without truly being in danger. For Christine and I the intrigue was too tantalizing not to pursue. For Jennifer, I suspect an untimely demise was already being plotted against our visitor. Jen spoke first,
"Where were these people coming from and what did they say? What did they see? I can't believe you just sat there and did nothing while a bunch of zombies wandered into your camp. What the hell were you doing, just waiting for death?"
"I don't know. We were in shock. We didn't know each other. We didn't have any idea where anyone we did know had gone or if they were alive. No one was in charge or wanted to be. We were looking for people to show up and rescue us. We were hoping for people to wander in. Each new person gave us hope and then the reality of who they were sent us further into depression. You're probably right. We were waiting to die."
Linda jumped in at that point,
"We're not, you get that? We are not waiting to die. So, if you are looking for a cozy place to dig a grave and take a nap, this isn't it."
Linda was showing a side of herself that I hadn't seen before. It was a side that I liked. It was a side that gave me hope. The mother-vibe she gave off was now more of a mother lioness protecting her cubs. It was not something to mess with. She was proving to be more of an asset than I had previously thought her to be. Linda had one other question,
" What do you want on your grave-marker if we bother to bury you and mark your grave?"
"I won't be needing a grave. That is why I left. I wasn't about to sit there and die. Death isn't an option for me."
"Okay then. These people you were with. Do you think any of them may have followed you?"
"No, there's no chance of that. They were committed to sitting there and waiting for rescue. Nothing I said mattered. They were gone." She eyed Jennifer. She had no fear in her eyes.
"So tell us the rest of it." Jen eyed the newcomer. She had contempt in her eyes.
The story continued:
“Now we had water and fuel a plenty. We had several cars nearby and the fuel within. We had Angel Falls and all the water we could drink. Of course, the fuel created heat to boil it to our somewhat paranoid satisfaction. Stupid really, Sprinkles drank out of it and even swam in it. There was limited food however. There was wildlife and plant life. But, all was of a suspicious nature. Is that the herb or berry that kills us all? It was impossible to know especially early on. As time went by we had an uneasy speculation that what had managed to survive was okay.”
She carried on for some time with her story with Jen and Linda glaring at her while Christine looked at her delighted.
"People dying was a very matter of fact revelation and carried little emotion other than a foreboding fear of what it might foretell for us personally. Even attractions and affections were of a superficial nature. It was as though we had a universal instinct against attachment or reliance. Anybody could die anytime. That was the reality. As for the darling little toy poodle had it been a pet pig we would’ve eaten it. I know for most of them that when our food supply became more critical it would not receive our last little morsel of food. Indeed, it would probably be the last little fluffy morsel. For the time being, she was kinda cute and provided some solace by being a watchdog of sorts."
It was clear that, like Jennifer, Sprinkles' survival instincts were fully functional.
I think that what disturbed us most was that there were nomadic stragglers wandering around Yosemite on their own. Our vision of stable campsites of hardy survivors was somewhat shattered by this knowledge.
Along with the uncertainty of what constituted a safe area was now made more ominous by what unknown person might pop up out of nowhere. Visions of zombies and chainsaw wielding maniacs brushed through our nervous sub conscious.
Our new member was named Annette and everyone called her Annie though she never said, “call me Annie” or “most people call me Annie”. Her little dog was named Mr. Sprinkles, as we already knew, I assume because he was excitable and bladder challenged when excited. If that wasn’t the case then it should’ve been.
He was snowy white with what looked like cinnamon powder gingerly distributed all over his face and nowhere else. Christine was quick to note that he was very gifted in the area of genitalia. She delighted in how uncomfortable it made everyone when she referred to it. I found it hilarious and often joined in straight faced discussions about it to everyone’s discomfort.
“Can you imagine if a human male had those proportions?” Christine would exclaim.
“Yes, it is a tremendous burden I must admit.” I would deadpan.
Another problem was beginning to become manifest. Our former board and care clients were quickly running out of meds with no replacements in sight. I had cut down on dosages to extend the supply. There were already delusions and conversations with entities the rest of us were unable to see.
Where tension and stress are the norm, it is sometimes not readily apparent just how desperate things have become. I know that most of us had embraced a murderous mindset. As I watched Tonnie slip further and further into her under-medicated insanity, it occurred to me that the time to deal with it might be fast approaching. But what to do? I quickly thought to myself, “kill her”.
I suppose that what shocked me was how disengaged that thought entered my mind. My instinct, I was aware, was to help her and protect her. Whatever pride I had in that was sorely tempered with the caveat, “but not at my expense”.
To further complicate matters two of our former clients were parolees. They were not just psych patients. They were predisposed to criminal behavior. On top of this was a host of minor perceived slights and irritations. David Vernon McMahon was convinced we were all against him even more than he usually was. Nathan, the other male parolee, was eerily silent. He was the one that worried me.
On top of all that, Jennifer was pregnant again complete with all the idle speculation that came with it. In spite of rumors to the contrary, once again it is not me. I admit though a certain sense of relief that she will be in full survival mode. It has to be Carlos, again. What an idiot. How could this be the time and place for that?
My friendship with Christine is a major thorn in everyone’s foot. There is jealousy and I understand that. But, I am used to being in that situation and, frankly, I don't really care what they think.
 Recognized |
The input is very much appreciated as are the suggestions. Moving too slow? Or, is the pace okay? Some things have been suggested that I do have plans to address later, so don't think I have not taken note. Remember that there is only so much that can be included in a single post. Thanks for following and helping. Much appreciated!
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