Until Montana

My memory is starting to fail me more and more nowadays, along with the rest of my body. I guess I shouldn't expect anything different, I mean, my body has never just stopped attacking itself when I complained about it in the past.

Regardless of the reasoning, Dane asked me to keep a log of the important things from now on- our leftovers and my symptoms.

I shall keep my worn little notebook under our pack in the pod from now on, so I don't forget where I put it. By "my worn little notebook," I mean You. Yes, You. You will be here to hold my deepest and darkest secrets, my most utterly profound feelings, and my inventory of leftovers, of course. I will carry you with me wherever I may go, to cherish you and the memories you hold within your wisdom of my words—just like I do my mother’s heart-shaped locket.

I'm sorry to hold you to such high expectations, seeing that you've been torn up and ripped to shreds by me, your keeper, many times over the past year, leaving you with only a little life left to spare. Don’t think your expectations are that high though, your duties don’t compare to my mother’s locket’s. Locket has the responsibility of reassuring love, health, and memory, it is the only real keepsake that I have left.

At the beginning of my diagnoses, when I was in the roughest shape I’ve ever been in until now, I told Dane that if he gets home and can’t find me, to just look for my locket and if it’s near, I am at peace and not to fear. Despite all the sadness that lingered throughout our little weathered country abode, that was always comforting for him.

Anyways, now that we've established a proper introduction, I will begin by logging the few items we have left, to my knowledge.

- 5 cans of Tuna

- 3 cans of Ravioli

- 1 bottle of unopened wine

- 1/3 jug of cranberry juice

- 16 bottles of water

- 1 gun

- 9 bullets

That can get us through the next four days, comfortably. Thank God we have a can opener. I don’t know what we’d do without it.

The bullets will last us until we reach Montana, I hope. I pray we don’t have to use them. If we do, we probably won’t end up alive anyways.

I guess I am forgetting something, the date. You can’t take all of this in if I don’t let you in on one of the most vital aspects of our relationship.

Today is May 6th – Day 15

We’ve been in the pod for three days straight now and they just keep coming, like packs of wolves, pillaging every remaining good soul in existence. My pain is getting worse, much worse than I let Dane see. He doesn’t need to be worrying about me so much at a time like this, it’ll cloud his judgment and risk any hope we have left for survival.

I’m down to only 6 prednisone left. If I take only half a day, i can get through the next couple of weeks until we find an alternative. IF we find an alternative and IF I can keep quiet enough during my flares that the pillagers don’t hear me whimpering and come to claim their victory, that is. Ideally, I would need to take one prednisone a day to stop the pain, or at least shield it until we can find better shelter and I can start to heal. My injections ran out a few months ago when we were still at the brick house, right before they found us. Without my injections, it’s only a matter of time before my body completely fails me, unless we stumble upon another pharmacy on our way to Montana.

We plan to head West on day 19. Nineteen days after arriving at the pod. That’s how we've counted our days since Halo attacked, day one begins the minute we reach each destination. Dane will sneak out just before dawn to set up the bait.

Dane’s a hunter, a gatherer, and a lover. He hunts with appreciation, gathers with acceptance, and loves with empathy. Thank God for him. If he weren’t here, I wouldn’t be either. He took care of me and my disease before Halo attacked, and he’ll do it until I take my last breath. I don’t doubt that for a second.

Here’s the plan. Dane will head out just before dawn to scope out the field and the creek. If there are no pillagers on foot, he will set up the bait.

Bait:

- 1 flashlight near the big oak tree with the worn-out tire swing

- 1 flashlight on the salvaged S10 near John’s Auto

- “Help” written on the big window of the old bakery on the corner of 5th and 22nd

- “SOS” written on the garage door of the old cheese factory on Brook Avenue.

Yeah, I know, it’s not much but it’s all the bait we’ve got seeing that we haven’t been able to leave the pod lately. Not since the pillagers started to arrive.

May 7th – Day 16

- 3 cans of Tuna

- 3 cans of Ravioli

- 1 bottle of unopened wine

- I don’t know how much cranberry juice Dane drank last night

- 14 bottles of water

- 1 gun

- 9 bullets

- 5 ½ prednisone

I remember when we first got the pod, 8 long and beautiful years ago. I say beautiful because that was a year before we learned about my shocking truth, the truth that I haven’t ever seemed to get used to and won’t ever get away from- that I won’t be here past the age of 50. 55 if I’m lucky. The pod, our pod, she was a gas guzzler that’s for sure, or wait, did we consider her a she or a he? Who knows, that’s beside the point. The pod was reliable and still is, that’s all that matters. We would take it everywhere we went, although, I guess that’s the point of a vehicle that’s shared between two people.

When I got diagnosed, our love got stronger. We didn’t have much money to spare, living paycheck to paycheck and penny pinching every way we could just to come up with enough money to get my next prescription. I ended up losing my waitressing job at the expense of my illness and from that day forward, haven’t been healthy enough to work at all. No matter the struggle though, Dane came through for me. We were like two peas in a pod, a dark blue two doored Ford Ranger pod, that is.

A few years back, we sold the pod to some old man from Franklin. Turns out, Franklin was on the way to Montana and the pod was still here, sitting in the same field back behind the old mans shed where we left it, thank God. Our intentions were only to stay to rest, maybe a week tops. When Halo started to arrive though, we had to rustle up every leftover we could spare out of the houses we’d scavenged during the few short days we had already been here, and we’ve been hunkered down in the pod ever since.

May 8th – Day 17

- 2 cans of Tuna

- 2 cans of Ravioli

- 1 bottle of unopened wine

- 10 bottles of water

- 1 gun

- 9 bullets

- 5 prednisone

There are still humans left. Real, caring, and beautiful humans. Can you believe it! I’m not talking about cruel, terrifying, savage humans like the pillagers. I’m talking about humane humans, humanity, it still exists. Beverly and Olivia are their names. Beverly, a beatiful and healthy 38-year-old women who had lost her husband in the riots last fall and Olivia, a 12-year-old petite and polite little angel of a girl. I haven’t seen a child for months. If the pillagers knew about her, I can’t even imagine what they might do, and I don’t want to.

Dane found them hovering behind a white propane tank in the yard across from the old man’s house. We put them in the shed, for now. We couldn’t risk putting them in the bed of the pod or any of the houses nearby, that’s where the pillagers stay. Dane has been going back and forth most of the day trying to find out what they are doing here and how to handle their arrival. He’s a little skeptical of their intentions. He seems to think they are going to jeopardize our flea and he won’t let that happen, especially with me being in the condition I’m in. I don’t think they are a threat at all though, they are a blessing and a miracle.

“We’re just not strong enough to survive in a group,” he argues.

By “we” he means me. I’m not strong enough to survive if the group gets seen, I would be the weakest link, the runt, the doomed. He can’t bear to think that my safety may be at stake at the expense of people we don’t even know. Well, my safety is at stake because of my own health already and I won’t let my health be the death of these two amazing beings.

May 9th – Day 18

- 1 can of Ravioli

- 1 bottle of unopened wine

- 6 bottles of water

- 1 gun

- 9 bullets

- 4.5 prednisone

We are still on schedule for the flea tomorrow and I have convinced Dane to let them come! It didn’t take much to convince him though, despite his devotion and love for me, he wouldn’t have left them behind anyways. He couldn’t do that. Montana is going to be everything that we dreamed of over the past few months. Dane and his father have been going on yearly fly-fishing trips there his whole life, and his father and grandfather for years before that. They have a little cabin there in the middle of nowhere that’s stacked with food to last us for months. If we boil water from the river, hunt and start our own garden, we could last up there for years! Me, Dane, Beverly, Olivia and whoever else we find on the way.

Here’s the plan. Dane will set the traps, the bait, all four of them. After painting the garage door, he will run across the lot and into the cul-de-sac, where we will be able to see him and then head towards the field. Just as he enters the field, we will run as fast as we can to meet him at the creek and follow it until we reach the river, and the river will lead us to Ferry. Ferry is a township only a short 130 miles from Ft Smith, Montana, where we will build our future without Halo.

May 10th – Day 19

Dane,

Halo found them. Just one pillager. He is dragging them to the field right now. I don’t have much time. I need you to understand that I love you more than anything, but I am not healthy, and I will not survive. I need you to take care of them and anyone you may find along the way. When I reach them, I will give them your pack and tell them where to meet you. I will take care of the pillager first and then run up past the old apple trees and create a conversion so Halo will come East. When you hear the signal, you head West right away. You will only have a few minutes so please do as I say. Do not come back for me. Thank God for them. I love you with all my heart.

- 1 can of Ravioli

- 1 bottle of unopened wine

- 6 bottles of water

- 7 bullets

- 1 locket