DAY 23

I got the water barrels up to the roof just as it was starting to rain.  They are the blue plastic kind that hold 55 gallons, and have a spigot near the bottom that a hose can be attached to.  I only have the six at the moment, but probably should get more.  Watching them fill slowly, I recognized that I needed a way to collect more than just the rain that fell straight down into them.  On my trip out yesterday, I had grabbed a few tarps from the Army surplus store.  It took a little work, but I got the tarps hung so that rain would collect on them and run down into the barrels.

I had been up on the roof many times before the pandemic hit, but it was so different this time.  Standing up there, looking over the city through the curtain of rain, with only the sound of the monotonous patter of it falling around me to be heard, I was filled with a sort of eerie dread.  Seattle had been one of the arguably nicest cities in the country, and now it was both figuratively, and literally, dead.  It had been so easy to take for granted what life had been like living, not only in this city, but in this country, and even in this day and age.  Prior to the pandemic, everything one needed to sustain life was relatively easy to attain, and now, I am completely dependent on myself for everything:  shelter, food, water, security; the life ahead of me is quite daunting.

Before I got too melancholy, I tipped my head back and let the cold rain wash over my face.  As I opened my mouth to catch some of it, I suddenly wondered how the rain was affecting the zombies.  I rushed down to the lobby, and looked out into the street.  The rain was falling a little harder, and it was running fairly heavily along the curbs.  It makes sense in retrospect, but I really hadn’t been expecting what I saw; I certainly don’t recall seeing anything like it in the movies.  The few zombies I could see were all on their hands and knees, one was right in front of my doors with it’s bare ass pointed right at me, and they had their faces in the flowing water.  They were drinking.

While they may no longer be entirely human, there is no question that they require food to function “normally.”  So it also stands to reason that they would need fluids as well.  Though I’m fairly sure at this point that the zombies can’t starve to death, they definitely operate better on a full stomach.  Whatever this virus is, it appears to operate under a definite set of rules, and so far as I can tell, with maybe a couple minor exceptions, the zombies and I are playing by those same rules.  It just sucks that I have to figure out the rules as I go.




About scottamehlman

Scott A. Mehlman was born and (mostly) raised in Cleveland, Ohio. Having earned both a BS and an MBA, Scott has tried his hand at a variety of jobs without finding one that truly satisfied or engaged his creative impulses the way writing does. He has published his first novel, The Immortal and The Dead, which is the first book in The Immortal Virus trilogy and continues to work on the JAEGER e-book series.

Posted on October 28, 2013, in Fiction and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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