The Bath Salts Journals: Volume One Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Month

  October

  November

  December

  January

  February

  March

  April

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Pandamoon

  The Bath Salts Journals

  Volume One

  by

  Alisse Lee Goldenberg and An Tran

  © 2017 by Alisse Lee Goldenberg and An Tran

  This book is a work of creative fiction that uses actual publicly known events, situations, and locations as background for the storyline with fictional embellishments as creative license allows. Although the publisher has made every effort to ensure the grammatical integrity of this book was correct at press time, the publisher does not assume and hereby disclaims any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause. At Pandamoon, we take great pride in producing quality works that accurately reflect the voice of the author. All the words are the author’s alone.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Pandamoon Publishing. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  www.pandamoonpublishing.com

  Jacket design and illustrations © Pandamoon Publishing

  Art Direction by Don Kramer: Pandamoon Publishing

  Editing by Zara Kramer, Rachel Schoenbauer, and Kathy Davidson: Pandamoon Publishing

  Pandamoon Publishing and the portrayal of a panda and a moon are registered trademarks of Pandamoon Publishing.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC

  Edition: 2, ver 2.0

  -

  Dedication

  In memory of Sebastian, who would never have survived the zombie apocalypse.

  For Cryptosporidium, who can’t even open a door on her own, but is dearly loved anyway.

  The Bath Salts Journals

  October 3

  I have decided to begin chronicling what I see around me. Everything has been leaving me with a sense of impending dread. I know that something is happening in the world out there, and the paranoid side of me has an inkling as to what it is. I know if I tell anyone around me what I suspect is going on, they will at least laugh at me, and at most, think I’m crazy.

  This all started with those crazy attacks I heard about on the news—the ones where the assailants started chewing on their victims. The media blamed some drug called bath salts. I wonder when there has ever been a drug that made the user unable to be taken down by anything but a head shot. There have been a few more such attacks since then, and other weird events have been cropping up. I have to keep vigilant. I have a family to think about. Maybe I am losing it a bit. I casually mentioned things to David over dinner, but he shrugged it off. Way to be supportive to your wife. Jerk.

  I don’t even think I can put it to paper, what I suspect is going on out there. I pray this will all blow over, and then I can have a good laugh over my silliness, but I doubt that will come to pass. This afternoon, I sat on the floor playing with Ethan, Benjamin, and Samantha. I looked at their faces and refused to believe any harm could come to them. They aren’t even two years old. My triplets will be kept safe. This I vow. I watch them laughing and learning in all they do, and I hope I can keep my word to them.

  October 10

  I know I’m not insane. There have been more “bath salt” attacks. Even the news anchor had trouble reporting the drug angle with a straight face. As of yet, I don’t think I would call it an epidemic, but I am wary. I have started formulating a plan. I will not be caught unawares. I think I have some kind of idea as to how I can muddle through this, but it will take time and money, neither of which I have in great supply. Maybe if I contact some friends…who do I have who will believe me? This whole thing—even writing it out sounds incredibly far-fetched. I suppose I will have to sleep on it, though I don’t know if it will look better tomorrow. On the way home from work, I stopped at the grocery store. Most of what I got was canned goods. When David asked, I told him everything was on sale. Even the canned apple juice. He gave me an odd look as I put everything away. We really don’t have a lot of storage in our house. I suspect that by the time this all blows over, or blows up, I may look like a bit of a hoarder.

  This afternoon, Ethan called me to him. I wish he would learn to call me “mama.” His insistence that I am actually “Yucks” is a little unnerving. He gave me such a hug and tried to bite me. I really need to get him out of this biting phase. Benjamin has far too many teeth marks on his arms.

  Tomorrow, I will suck it up and call Xuân. I feel that out of all of my friends, she is the one who will listen. She always jokes about what she would do if these things ever happened. Don’t they say that in every joke, there is a kernel of truth?

  October 11

  Xuân is completely on board! Turns out, she’s been following the news just as obsessively as I have. Thank God! I don’t know what I would have done if she’d laughed at me. Now all we have to do is start working on our plan. I feel that we are on the verge of an outbreak. I am talking about a real Romero-type walking dead disaster. I will not allow my family to be hurt by this. So, after speaking, Xuân and I have a plan for our survival. We are going to pool our resources and get out before it all gets rough.

  We will begin stockpiling resources now. Xuân tells me she actually owns a rifle with a scope. I’m glad she couldn’t see my face over the phone when I heard that. I never pegged her for a hunter, but apparently, she used to hunt with her father when she lived in Calgary, and kept her gun when she came to Toronto. This is good. I don’t know if there’s time for me to get such a weapon. The gun laws are very strict here. However, I can easily get a couple of machetes as secondary weapons. Tomorrow, I will head to the camping store and pick up some more supplies. So far, I have bought the children snowsuits in several sizes, as well as warm outfits. I hope we don’t stay up there long enough actually to need them all.

  I will write down our plan thus far, at least, so I can keep it all straight in my head: we will purchase a plot of land as far north as we believe we can go. Once we have it, we find a company that builds small houses on trailers. We will buy two of them and have them delivered to our plot of land, and have them outfitted with solar panels. Around this land, we will have a ten-foot tall chain-link fence erected, with a secure, locked gate. This way, we are in the wilderness, with no people around. No people means no dead walking around us. As it is very cold, people will be deterred from joining us, and in the winter, the dead will (hopefully) freeze. I suggested we have a shed or two on this land that we can add on to our trailers, and we can use these with windows on the roofs and space heaters as makeshift greenhouses to grow food. She’s down with this plan. Now I need to get David on board.

  October 14

  I have most of what I feel we need now. Between myself and Xuân, we are extremely prepared. Her part-time job in the bookstore has given us a wealth of information by way of survival manuals and just entertainment reading. I had another thought today that she wholeheartedly agrees with. I suggested we buy two gorals. We can keep them for milk and cheese, and unlike their close cousin, the mountain goat, they can easily survive wh
ere we are going. I got the machetes, long johns for everyone, a hand pump filter unit in case the water is bad, purification tablets as an extra precaution, haydite slabs, seeds for fruits, vegetables, and herbs, nutrient packs, several small troughs and cubes to plant in; as well as the necessary tubing and flat-packed shelving units, and lights for our indoor garden. We have decided to use hydroponics, as it seems easiest to do in a small space, and the tundra landscape is inhospitable to most edible plants.

  I also found our plot of land. It is absolutely perfect. It’s located not far from Edehon Lake in Nunavut. It will take us a while to drive, but I have already started filling a few canisters with gas, just in case. Since it is barren land with no one around for miles, I was able to get it at a cheap price. So far, David has not noticed what I have been up to; I really need to talk to him. I hope he doesn’t completely flip out. What gives me a glimmer of hope is that even he is noticing the increasing occurrences of these attacks.

  Xuân has put in an order for our trailers. The whole logic behind them is that if things get dicey, we can hitch them to our cars and take them farther. This way, we don’t lose all our supplies or our home. If anything, I wish to keep our kids’ lives as stable as possible in spite of everything that is going on.

  Things we didn’t think of came to me as I was mentally compiling lists; I don’t know how long we’ll be stuck out there. Each trailer is 177 square feet. They sleep between one to four people. The main area is a kitchenette and eating space, where the table folds into the wall so there is walking room. Behind this are a bedroom and small bathroom. There is a sleeping loft with a queen size bed. With this setup, there is a danger of cabin fever. I need to revise some packing lists to ensure we have things to keep us entertained. This is about our mental health as well as physical survival. I think I should add board games and movies. Even though there is no cable, and satellite television will be a thing of the past, we can still watch movies on laptops.

  October 15

  I am in major trouble now. David has found out about everything. I knew I should have kept him in the loop about every purchase, plan, and idea I have had, yet he was so dismissive about all the attacks. He laughed every time I brought up the word “zombie.” I just kept saying later, later to myself. Well, there is no later. Later is now, and my husband is pissed. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this. He needs to come with me. The kids need to come with me. I can’t push this off until he gets used to the idea. The time is rapidly approaching for us to pack up and get the hell out of here. But David is so angry, I don’t know how I’m going to convince him that I’m right.

  In spite of our attempts to be quiet, I know the kids heard us fighting. I came into the family room, and Benjamin toddled up to me and hugged me around the knees. He seemed very upset. I hugged him and told him that everything was going to be okay. He gave me kisses and didn’t seem to want to let go. I sincerely hope I can keep this promise to him.

  * * * Xuân * * *

  I’m not much of a writer. Yeah, if you want some marketing, advertising, fundraising copy or academic papers, I’ll do it, but a diary? It’ll be fucked up. These survivalist books and shit say “oh, keep a journal and daily log of your life; it’ll help your mental condition.” Well, I say it’s going to show how fucked up I am! I know that Alexis has one going, but she’s actually a writer, and I was not really blessed with those kinds of creative juices. I don’t even know how she will remember to write in it. So, I’ll keep some kind of log of stuff I’m up to or have seen, but I don’t know why anyone would want to read it, nor, morbidly, am I sure anyone will be ALIVE to read it! Zombies are rising. There’s more important shit to worry about. I am glad that Alexis noticed the warning signs too. I don’t think it’d be good for me or my “mental condition” to be alone when the world goes to hell.

  October 16

  David came home today looking more distressed than I have ever seen him. He just came up to me and held me tight. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that he should never have doubted me when I said I knew what was going on.

  He and his co-worker, Jonathon, had gone out for a business lunch together. On the way back to the car, David said a man approached them. He described him as pale and he walked in an odd sort of shuffle. Jonathon went up to him to see if he was all right. There was something seriously wrong with him. The man grabbed Jonathon as if he were trying to get his attention, and bit his arm right through his coat and shirt. David ran to help his friend, but Jonathon screamed for David to run. He struggled with his assailant, who then grabbed him by the throat and tore it out with his teeth. David said that his blood was everywhere. There was nothing he could do for him. My husband ran for his car and drove home as quickly as he could.

  I am stunned. I knew that we would lose people we cared about in the upcoming days. I just didn’t expect it so soon, or so brutally. David feels responsible. He feels he should have done something to save him, but he was unarmed. I don’t know what he could have done. As Jonathon had already been bitten, he would have saved him only until he fell prey to the virus and reanimated. As it is, he’s probably out there now, hungering for flesh.

  My resolve to leave is firm. Even more so, now that David is solidly on board with the plan. After seeing someone he’s known for years die so horribly, he agrees that our family must be spared this fate.

  I realized that I was forgetting one major detail while I was making my plans. David pointed it out to me as we were talking. What are we going to do about our dog? I can’t in good conscience leave him alone to be ripped apart or eaten, nor can we leave him to starve either. We’ll just have to take him. Dogs lived for centuries off table scraps. I’m sure Sebastian can do the same. He’d probably like it more than dog food anyway.

  October 17

  I picked up our travel maps from CAA today. It would be fairly useless to drive off into the wilderness with no notion of where we are going. The woman behind the counter gave me a look that was part “you’re crazy” and part “I think you may be on to something here.” I just gave her a smile that I hope conveyed friendly sanity. Tonight, we have dinner at my parents’ house. I’m going to tell them what’s going on. This will be their last chance to come with us. I think we’re leaving before the week is out.

  October 17 (supplemental)

  My parents totally freaked out. Well, that’s actually an understatement. I think they may want me committed or something. My brother Loren seemed to be listening, but I don’t really know. It seems to be so difficult for him to go against anything my parents say. He’s always been their “yes man,” even when it goes against everything he believes in. It has always bothered me about him. But if he’s okay with it, there’s nothing I can do. I wish that, at least in this instance, I could change his mind. My parents, however, refused to hear anything I had to say, even going so far as to forbid me from taking their grandchildren to some “frozen wasteland.” I won’t hear any of it. All I saw as I looked around their home was how indefensible it all was: greenhouse windows in the kitchen, flimsy wooden fence around the big backyard, sliding glass doors in both the family room and kitchen. I suppose they could hole themselves up in the basement “bunker,” as my dad calls it. They do have a separate kitchen down there. I worry for them. However, unless I chloroform them and forcibly drag them along with us, I don’t know what to do. As we left, I gave my brother our coordinates in Nunavut and the key to our home. At least our house in Toronto is safer than my parents’. Our windows are ten feet off the ground. If he boards up the basement, he might make it.

  The whole conversation with my parents was ridiculously frustrating. I kept hearing, “You know we love you, but…” before every single sentence. Speaking to them was like speaking to a brick wall. They kept accusing me of planning to steal their grandchildren from them. I would never do that in a million years. I am trying to protect their grandchildren. I want them to come with us more than anything. I love my parents, but I inherit
ed my stubbornness from somewhere, and it is completely their fault that I am the way I am.

  When I came home, I called my sister. She refuses to join us as well. I fear for her and her two small daughters, but there is nothing I can do about it.

  I can hear David on the phone with his family. It sounds like they’re being just as stubborn as mine. I don’t think they’ll come either. This is going to be very difficult for us all.

  October 18

  Xuân was over today to help finish packing boxes. We have tons of books on hydroponics, cooking, survival, first aid, and hunting. I also picked up three sheds from the local hardware store. They’re flat-packed in their boxes. We’re going to lash them to our cars’ roofs to bring them with us, and assemble them there. I also have packed as many photo albums and mementos as possible. There are some things that are irreplaceable. My memories are some of those things. Xuân laughed at me for adding my jewellery boxes to the piles of “necessities.” I told her that I wanted to feel as human as possible when we were up north. Also, from a practical standpoint, when all this is over, some of the pieces could be used for bartering.

  We loaded the vehicles up in the driveway with all our supplies, the extra canisters of gas, our clothes, the first aid kits, and our weapons, in easily accessible places. I would be driving with the children, with Xuân and David in the SUV with the dog. I don’t know how or where we’re going to stop along the way. The trip in normal conditions would take days. As it is, the reports of attacks are occurring with increasing frequency and ferocity. I worry a lot about what we might be facing on the road. I know I will certainly breathe easier when we get where we’re going.