Day 1.

W-what’s happened here? The real question would be, what hasn’t happened here. I came home to find the town practically flattened, and strange unfamiliar buildings set atop pillars where the houses of people I used to know once sat. That first night, I met up with a group camping in what used to be the park in front of City Hall. Their encampment made me uneasy; it was surrounded by bits of wire, chain link, old board… It seemed like they’d made a fence of whatever they could find at hand. There were numerous dogs, even some cats following people around. I guess the bond between pet and owner really is strong. They told me they were only here because there was nowhere else to go, but they’d almost finished constructing a shelter for themselves off the ground. Told me that those people who had already fortified their houses wouldn’t help out their group, was afraid they were infected. We traded stories and they warned me of a group of townspeople who had been… changed by the fallout of the accident.

I should have believed them, but I convinced myself that they were the one’s who’d been changed, living outdoors and  barely eating one meal a day could make any person mad. And I happen to know that the Bird sisters were insane even before our town turned into this barren wasteland. I dropped into an uneasy sleep, reassuring myself that everything would be fine. I’d come and found out what was happening here in my old town, and tomorrow I’d go back home, to my job in the new town I called home and call this the most depressing vacation I’d ever had.

Day 2.

The night passed slowly, I could barely sleep. The dogs prowled around, and every time I woke there was someone standing watch. I hadn’t even thought of their practical purposes when I saw them earlier. I left at dawn, thanking this group that had been kind enough to offer me shelter and hospitality in a world gone mad. I began my trek to the outskirts of the city where I’d first left my car yesterday, a fallen tree blocking my path. Imagine my surprise when I finally reached my destination to find that the tree had gone! But… so had my car. I simply stared at the spot where I knew I had parked it. This couldn’t be happening! I walked in a daze to stand where my car should be, as if it would magically reappear because I needed it.

I’m ashamed to admit I must have stood there gaping like a complete moron for well over an hour. Eventually I managed to pull myself together. The car was gone, no way around it. Disheartened, I started the long trek back to the group I’d just left this morning. When I reached my destination, they were sympathetic but pragmatic. This town was full of looters, and word was that the Alto family was re-solidifying their grasp on criminal activity before the military came in. That’s when I felt the first sliver of true fear. Were the townspeople not exaggerating about those who’d been changed? Why would the military come if not? No. No, they were probably coming to help with the rebuilding effort. As a matter of fact, why weren’t they already here? I allowed my rage at losing my car to morph into rage at the absent military and didn’t complain when we moved out to their shelter in progress and I was handed some tools and told to get to work.

It was a fine building, as shelters go. I’d expected it to be rather ramshackle, as the camp was but it seemed they were putting considerably more effort into this building. It made sense, I suppose. Why waste precious quality building materials on a temporary camp? We left well before dusk, and the fear that was coming off the others so strongly made me stay quiet and pick up my pace. Was this to be my new life? Another night passed.

Day 9.

I quickly learned the schedule of the camp, up at first light and eat the first, and last, meal of the day. Secure camp and head to the shelter to continue working. Leave and set camp back up, guards in place, before the sun fell. A week passed, the shelter was almost complete. Another day’s work, maybe two and it would be functional. Our group had an engineer who’d managed to rig a system to get enough electricity to power one small fridge. It took our whole team to move it inside. He’d managed enough water to the shelter to run one toilet, and one sink. He hadn’t even bothered trying for a shower. The water is so toxic, we have to boil it to drink it. If some splashes on your skin, it stings. Can’t imagine taking a shower in such water. We’ve been lucky it hasn’t rained yet. Some of the people are praying for rain, they think it will bring clean water but I… I have my doubts. The air is so thick with dust and who knows what else that we can’t even see the stars. I don’t think any clean rain will fall from such a sky.

Day 15.

You know, I used to think I was in shape before I came home. But, it seems like I’m getting weaker each day I’m here. I can’t lift as much as I used to, can’t work as long. Some of that is hunger, to be sure but… I feel like I’m wasting away. Another day passes. The shelter is so close to being done. We’ll move there tomorrow, but we’re too exhausted to make another quick march back with all our belongings tonight. Guards at the gate, dogs prowling, just another night in the town that used to be called Appaloosa Plains.

But tonight… there’s a different noise. I’m shaken awake at midnight, belongings pressed into my hand. There’s strange noises in the night, and the guards have seen something off in the distance. The dogs growl non-stop. We’re taking no chances. We stare off into the night, looking wildly in all directions. I see my first changed resident that night, while he attacks the front guard. At first we rally to help him, some of us have make-shift weapons. Then more appear, then still more and we realize we’re fighting a lost cause. Panic, mayhem… We flee. I’m not the only one running with burning lungs and shaking limbs to the shelter we’ve been working so diligently on. For the first time I truly understand why such a place is necessary. I’m too scared to cry at the screams and horrendous noises I can hear behind me. I know that they’ll haunt my nightmares if I survive this night.

Almost there, I’m almost there. Then, lights coming full speed at me. I stagger, temporarily blinded as I hear a vehicle of some sort screech to a halt beside me. A hand comes down on my shoulder and I want to scream, but I’m too disoriented and panicked to do more than freeze. I hear gunfire and to my shame, the world around me goes black as I faint.

Day 16.

When I wake, I’m in the shelter. I can hear voices downstairs and I wonder if some of the people from camp have made their way here. But… how did I get inside? Who had been driving that car? I drag myself from the bed, another surprise in itself. We hadn’t had a bed here before. My clothes are laid out at the foot, and I quickly change into a less filthy garment before timidly creeping downstairs to see who’s down there. If there were anything to use as a weapon, I’d be clutching it fiercely.

I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered, because the stairs, made of rickety wood like they are, give a tremendous creak as I start making my way down. The conversation stops, and so do I. Booted steps, heavy on the wooden floor, make their way my direction. Then a person comes into my field of view at the bottom landing, smiles and waves me down. He’s dressed in military fatigues.

They tell me they dragged me in here last night after I’d fainted, and that they’re a rogue faction of the military. There’s a barrier up around town, and they’re shooting anyone who refuses to go back into town. The group that rescued me hadn’t liked following those orders, for they were from here as well. So they stole a vehicle and some guns, and decided to help. They think that, if they gain enough power, enough control over the streets they can convince the National Guard outside to help clear the zombies from the streets so people can move about in relative peace. A barrier? I guess the military really did come quickly, but not to help us. There’d been no barrier when I drove into town what seems now like a lifetime ago.

Day 17.

The military group has left. I venture out at first light to scavenge at the bookshop. I break in and quickly gather a book on mechanics, one on gardening, and another on fishing. My arms are too weak to carry more. I know I should save my money, but even in this hellish new world I can’t just take the books without leaving payment. I throw down the approximate value on the counter and scurry off back to the shelter and hope someone made it there as well as me.

Day 25.

Still no-one. Some nights are peaceful, others are spent sleepless when I wake to the sounds of the chain fence surrounding the shelter rattling. I’m too scared to see if it’s infected or wild animals.

Day… 26?

I… can’t remember what I did yesterday. Was it yesterday? There are hot dogs on the grill upstairs, but I don’t remember making them, or cooking them. I’ve got to get out of this house, I’ve got to do something.

Day 30.

I saw the militia group again and… I’ve joined them. I can’t sit around this shelter all day hoping someone will rescue me. If I won’t help make this town habitable again, who will? I don’t know if the others who helped build this shelter are alive, but I can’t keep waiting for them to find their way here. If they haven’t by now, chances are they aren’t going to. This will be my house now, and maybe one day I’ll be able to help convince the National Guard to clean the streets. I am Roselia Tarras, resident of Appaloosa Plains, and I will not let this town die.

Notes: I’m not going to be using song titles for every post, but it was too appropriate to not use this one time. It sucks that I’m using a default Sims town and so everything around me is green, so I apologize for that. Of course I didn’t find towns that people had specifically made for Apoc challenges until AFTER I was well on my way into this one. So, please use imagination and ignore the greenery? XD