Fear of the Dead Read Free Page B

know if I can justify what I’ve done. Yes, he tried to kill me, but only because I put us both at risk.
    Tom was right. You have no idea how much that scares me.
    Am I making any sense? Or is it just common for abused women to feel this way about their husbands?
    The strangest thing in all this, is the fact that even though I’m sorry that Tom is dead, I don’t feel guilty. It’s like when my uncle died back when I was eight. We didn’t know each other very well, but he would always buy me presents whenever he came to visit. He was killed in a car accident. Mom told me all about it after she got off the phone. She cried.
    Two days later, we had the funeral.
    I never shed a tear for my uncle. When I first heard that he’d passed away I couldn’t bring myself to harbor a tenth of what my mother felt about the news.
    I used to worry that maybe I was dead inside. Then saw it in a movie. I can’t remember what it was, but the lesson went that only the good fear their own apathy.
    Tom is dead because of me, and I haven’t been able to muster a word of mourning.
    Does it make me good that I care?
     
    7:15 AM
     
    It’s safe outside. At least from what I can tell. It certainly isn’t getting any safer.
    I’ve decided to leave. The car is still parked on the driveway from the day we drove in from San Fran. The keys are on the kitchen counter, where Tom left them before he locked us in. After finding some food outside, I’ll head back to the city. Maybe there I’ll be able to find out where everyone went.
    I’ll be bringing this notebook with me. So far it’s all I’ve had to communicate with, though it hopefully won’t remain the case for long. I’m not one to write in diaries, but at a time like this it helps to maintain some picture of sanity.
    If for whatever reason something happens to me, I think I’d like to leave you with one last parting advice.
    Life is too short to dwell on the past. Never turn back. Keep your eyes forward, always.
     
    7:20 AM
     
    Vanessa Lowen dropped her wedding ring on the bedside counter behind the non-functioning alarm clock. She took her notebook, along with a few pens, a flashlight from the garage, and her car key on the kitchen counter. Aside from that, she also brought a fire poker (to be used in cases of self defense), and a magnetic calendar on the fridge so she would always have the date.
    Vanessa tore the first three pages and marked an X on the 21 st of April.
    According to the calendar, tomorrow was Earth Day.
    She packed what little she brought with her on the front passenger seat of her Toyota Corolla. Without going back to close the front door, she keyed in the ignition, and drove away.
    It was a strange experience being on a road this empty. Vanessa passed by stop sign after stop sign, neither slowing down nor coming to a complete stop. She eventually let go the idea of streets lanes, veering her car to whichever way she wanted to go. Left lane, middle lane, right lane. None of that mattered now. There were no traffic lights, no cops to pull her over. Of course, at a time like this a cop would have been a good thing to have. But Vanessa only had herself, which, as she drove further along, enjoying the freedom of the empty road, seemed good enough for the time being.
    There was something fantastically liberating about not having to subscribe to the rules of the road. She could go whichever way she pleased, and no one could tell her otherwise.
    She parked beside the first convenient store within her line of sight. An AM-PM. Since the store was covered in glass, she had no problems seeing what was inside. Her only obstacle was the fact that the automatic doors were closed, and the possibility that there were infected hiding inside.
    As far as she could tell there weren’t. But she had been wrong before.
    Regardless, it was nearly an entire day since she ate, and she wasn’t getting any less hungry. If Vanessa was going to survive on her own, she had to learn to take