July 1

Canada Day -

We woke, this morning, to a letter, stuffed through the front door mail slot. It was written on letter head from the grocery store.

Meeting Tonight 7pm
to talk about the Pineview Coalition and distribution of goods and services. Send a representative to the loading dock, behind the building.

I'm no genius and I'm quite hungry so the idea of a sudden, rushed, coalition sends shivers of dread down my spine and my tummy rumbling. Quickly thrown together, temporary, governments are never a good thing, or so history, tv, books, video games, newspapers, the internet and comic books have taught me.

Bryndis, Selma, Macy and myself, are standing there, reading this note in front of the front door, and some lady goes running by screaming. "HE'S CRAZY!!! CRAZY!!!" Almost on, cue. I'll tell you that little incident didn't do any good for my itchy spine.

"A representative?" Bryndis continues, without acknowledging the lady running off into the distance. The short time in this new world had changed us, all, in big ways. No longer were we surprised by such trivial things as a woman running, bloody, through the parking lot. Taking her chances with the Zombies, rather than the crazy man she mentioned. "Who should be our representative?" She finished.

I offer Beth, who's still hiding in a change room. At some point, last night, she switched up her hidey place, presumably, due to the large amount of excrement she had left in the old one. She might have 'lost it' but she still has her standards, and hygiene is one of them. Lucky for her we have five change rooms to rotate through.

Nobody notices my remark, my subtle humour having no effect.

"I'll be heading up the heating duct, today, so it can't be me." Bryndis, looks around. "Patrick, you should go."

I expect some fight from the other two but get only nodding heads, affirmation.

"How am I supposed to get over there?" I mention, because, unlike the crazy lady running through the parking lot, I'm not as delirious with panic that I'm willing to suspend reality and believe that I'd be able to make it past what I'm going to, from this point on, call the Zombielot. I mean, hell, Trix is still standing there, pawing at the window, like a cat with yarn, her undead eyes beckoning us outside for breakfast. "And before we do 'anything' today, we need to liberate our bathrooms. It's getting disgusting in here."

"I, totally, agree." Macy said, throwing her hair over a shoulder and smiling. "I just took a piss and almost knocked over the garbage can." Her eyes got wide. "Could you imagine, what kind of mess that would have made?"

I could see Bryndis' hand twitching, as though she were about to swing a slap towards Macy's face. Instead she settled for a firm reprehend. "You knock over a piss bucket and you clean it up."

This was the second kicker of the day, for me. The fact that one of us could use the term 'piss bucket' and, instead of laughing, mean it, was disturbing. "What have we come to?"

Quickly Bryndis laid out a plan to evict out two bathroom squatters.

We built a wall, out of table tops and boxes, funneling the exit from the bathrooms to the emergency back door. The trick, though, was getting someone to open all three doors and then get back behind the barricade, before being eaten. (third kicker - typing the words 'before being eaten') We did it the old fashioned way. We grabbed the broom and pulled out some straw, which, I've never noticed before, isn't really straw anymore, it's plastic that looks like straw. Of course, I didn't notice this until I'm trying to cut a short straw out of the group, with my teeth and notice the distinct flavour of dirt in my mouth. Anywho...in the end, it didn't matter. As I'm doing it in a traditional, anybody could lose the gamble, manner, gnawing away at dirty plastic, Bryndis, firmly plants a foot in Macy's back and kicks her into the arena and then yells. "Open them!!!"

From our vantage point we really can't see anything. We can hear Macy cursing and her heels hitting the linolium and then doors being opened. Oddly, Macy opens the bathroom doors first and then goes for the emergency exit. From here I had a good view, a slit in-between boxes, and can see that she has no room behind her to turn and make it back to our side of the barricade. The Zombies, Paulo and one of the security dudes, that we used to see patrolling the Zombielot every twenty minutes, or so, are right behind her. The only option, and she decides to take it, is to push the emergency door open and run for it. She's out of sight but not out of hearing range. The sound of her high heels hitting the pavement, in short quick succession, sounds like a heartbeat, overcome with fear. Suddenly they stop and so does she.

Bryndis is around the barricade and has the door closed before the rest of us, Selma and I, can even think of what to do. Then she's standing there with a couple water bottles in her hands. She tosses one to each of us. "Drink up bitches."

Well, that all just happened, so it's still pretty fresh in my mind. Bryndis is already claiming that she didn't kick Macy into the arena or even that she said 'Drink up bitches." History is truly in the eye of the survivors.

Anyway, now I'm off to brainstorm a way across the Zombielot and Bryndis is packing for her expedition, up the heating vent. Her hopes are that she can make it through the Bay and into the Pita Pit, bringing back food. She's got her netbook and she'll have access to the blog, so she can detail her news, as well.

BTW, we just saw Macy, she's in the van with the Trenchcoat Mafia Guys, TMG for short, they rolled the window down, just long enough for her to hurl off some insults at us, then quickly, as Trix was walking toward them, and Macy, seeing a dead co-worker stumble towards her, squealed, they rolled it back up.