Tales of the Derry Plague by Anselmo, Ray (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

she changed into her PJs and took her lithium in the dark, then went to bed. No shower, of course – that ship had sailed. Tomorrow morning she’d try bathing in the ocean.

8

PACK

Having gone to bed so early by her usual standard, Kelly did find herself awake before the sun. Hm. This must have been what it was like before modern industry – wake early, work all day, collapse into sleep once the sun sets. She’d suddenly become an 18th-century peasant except for the horseless carriage and sturdier dwelling.

But bathing in the creek – or in her case, the Pacific – would have to wait until she drove up to the farm and checked the dehydrators. She dressed, grabbed a piece of dry toast for a snack and hopped into the car, checking the gas gauge as she started it. Good – still half a tank left. That would be about six gallons if the gauge was accurate. When it got low, there were plenty of SUVs with big tanks around town to siphon from. It would be a long while before she had to worry about running out.

The generator was getting low on fuel when she arrived at the farm, but everything in the dehydrators was ready to pack and haul off. She had the previous day’s to-do list in her pocket, so she unfolded it, turned it over and started making a new one:

Today’s work:

Bathe

Breakfast

Check store – what else to do?

Find good flashlight/batteries

Prep Alvarez basement for root cellar

Move food into root cellar

Siphon more gas?

Read LaSheba’s journal?

She was starting to hit question marks – things she could do today, but didn’t have to. Had she done all the urgent things? Well, she probably had. Food and water, she had plenty – it was just a matter of organizing it and keeping it safe. Shelter and clothing had been in good supply all along. Transportation was taken care of as long as her car didn’t break down. She had lithium for another week or so, and wasn’t running out of any other medicine. And she hadn’t needed to defend herself from anything.

Fifteen days since she’d called in sick. Eight since she found the world had died on her. One since the power went bye-bye. It seemed like half of forever, but it was only half a month. And she was getting by. She missed people, and still mourned her friends, but she was in fact surviving. That was something.

She brought the dried-out food home, ate a little, then grabbed a bar of soap and two towels and headed for the water.

She learned a lot that morning, or was reminded of a lot she hadn’t thought through:

The Pacific was cold – even colder than she remembered! There was no Gulf Stream on this side of the continent, no upwelling of warm tropical water. The main current came straight down from Alaska, and felt like it. She was covered in goosebumps before she got even waist deep.

Social mores were powerful things. Even though she could be fairly sure no one was around – if there had been, surely they’d have poked their heads up by now – it took an effort of will to take off her clothes outside. And even once she was submerged up to her neck, she found herself glancing around for any Peeping Toms with camera phones. This, she suspected, would be a hard habit to break.

You had to rinse the sand off your feet once you were finished.

You didn’t need two towels, because the sun did most of the drying for you – and it felt glorious! You just needed to give your hair a good rub.

Sitting naked on a rock afterward was a terrific sensation. Kelly looked out at the ocean, over to the beach (the gulls were still avoiding the cremated truck, good) and enjoyed the breezes on her skin and the prickle of the sun’s heat. It was odd, but it felt natural in a way no indoor shower or cotton towel ever could.

“I almost wish some hot guy could see me here,” she said to herself, then laughed. How had she gone from fear of exposure to actually kind of wanting it in less than an hour? Bizarre! But the last few years she’d been so busy working and keeping herself on an even keel that she largely hadn’t had a libido. Now …

… yeah, really bizarre. She’d been plunged into a worldwide disaster, left as alone as alone could get, and now she felt sexually attractive? She bet there was no medication available to deal with that kind of thought process.

She shook her head, chuckling as she got dressed. “You’re weird, Kel.” But maybe it wasn’t so weird – maybe she was finally learning to relax. With over a week of the apocalypse behind her (over two weeks, really, but she slept through most of the first) and no societal pressure (because no society), she wasn’t having to work so hard to fit in. That had always been her #1 stressor. And it had vanished for now, because now she didn’t have to worry about what anyone thought except herself and maybe God.

She looked up, wondering if God had an issue with public bathing. She couldn’t think of a verse that covered it, except David spying on Bathsheba while she was washing up – and that wasn’t Bathsheba’s fault. King Man-After-God’s-Own-Heart should’ve known better. Well, the Lord could fire a lightning bolt or something as a warning shot to let her now – that was His prerogative. Otherwise she wouldn’t sweat it.

She dropped the soap and towels home and, seeing as it was a lovely day, decided to walk to the store and see what else could be done. Halfway there she stopped, realizing she’d made an error – if she had to haul