Depression

Me and my dogs stayed in the museum for a little longer. Days. Maybe a couple of weeks, it didn't matter anymore. I was no longer myself. I buried Lisa and Karen, and burned the rest of 'em.

Didn't matter anymore. Still, I wasn't able to kill myself, something in me would not let me. So I instead made a makeshift speakers with some wires, a couple of disposable dishes, and some aluminum foil. I've been listening music from my mp3 player, at least for a few hours. The men brought enough food that me and my dogs never really needed to step outside. I looked on their gear: Weapons, ammo, food, water, medicine, you name it. There was even a few ceramic plates for personal armor. I tried to remove any idle thoughts by placing the plates inside the old Spanish Armor. It was a little rough, but I was able to do it, via trial and error that is.

The music was pretty much a godsend. It helped me not to fall deeper into depression, but the work I was doing also helped me. It took me days, but I was able to learn to use the radio. Most of it was trial and error, but a little of it was thanks to observation, looking at Karen move the radio.

After much silence, I was able to find another person. He called himself Johnson, and said he was from Tempe. I asked him what was going on in the US, and told me of the situation:

It seems America was in mess, just as here. The Federal Government started rationing oil and electricity, and only for keeping the peace. Local governments and militia types started to revolt, and already states like Texas and Florida started to call themselves "independent" from the US. Most other state governments started to do supply raids in neighboring territories, including Mexican cities. It seemed that I met one of these men, as I saw a series of codes right next to me console, written in paper. The writing was not Karen's, or Lisa's. I told him what was going on here, but I didn't go into much detail. I never mentioned the girls.

He told me they needed good people in Tempe, and if I came, I'd be treated nice. Was there a point in going? My roots were growing here. Also, from what Karen and I suspected, is that she was pregnant. I was gonna be a dad.

Whatever life there was here, now it's dead and buried, but not forgotten.

I took what I could carry in one of the vehicles the men had brought: A jeep. this was from the generator, to some food, lots of water, books, ammo, some weapons, and my dogs, obviously.

The jeep rumbled to life when I started it. And I drove in silence, with only my dogs seeing me with an expression that I could only imagine it was worry.

Anger

Wounded, angry, and tied up is no way to survive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

But that was my situation. It was night, and they held me tight and well watched. Most of my wounds were treated, though. I could only hear the calm burning of wood in a fire, the small talk of some of the men, and crickets. My dogs, my faithful beagles, were locked in a makeshift cage, close to me. They waggled their little tales at the sight of me waking up, but they did mournful whimpers, instead of the joyful pants and dog smiles.

Lisa was dead. And Karen was nowhere to be seen. I feared for the worst.

One of the guys stood in front of me, with a metal coffee mug and what seemed to be military rations. He wolfed it down and took big gulps as he looked at me. I simply stared, why I was testing the ropes, so how well the knots were tied.

He said, in english, that it was "that bitch's fault" of what happened, that they would've only kicked us out of this place. He sat down, and looked at my hands. I kept myself still. He made a quick laughed and assured me that the noose was well made.

Another man came in, and said that it was "his turn". The guy stood up, looked at me and told me that "she's now the official hooker". I waited for all of them to sleep. I finally was able to slip away from the knot, and took a knife that was in the table.

No one survived that night.

I remember little, but I do remember my breathing, the slowly moving towards the men, the sudden gushing sound of the blood pouring out as the knife cleaved in. The sudden muffled screams. The one thing I do remember was Karen, though. She was tied and naked on one of the rooms. She was beaten up, bruises all over her face, her blonde hair all messed up. I was angry, angry at them. At myself.

She cried, and said my name in a whisper. I came with her and hugged her. She hugged me back and cried longer. She dressed, but, about the time we were in the room, gathering stuff, she took a gun, and.

I can't write anymore about this. I just can't. I'm crying as I type this.

God, why? Had I not.

I'll finish later

Ambush

I ran like hell. And for the first time in weeks, I didn't notice the gunfire, nor the running of the car engines. Note to self, always keep a cool head.

I reached the museum quickly and opened the door. I closed it and shut it off with the barricade. Karen and Lisa came darting down the stairs and saw me in the hallway, asking me what was going on. Then the gunfire started.
I'm guessing they thought the door was gonna give in easily with the first ten shots, and then proceeded to stop. I yelled them to run and then a thunderous roar made way to a powerful blast that ripped open the door of the museum. We closed the door that lead to the second floor, and sealed shut the main hallway. We could hear them coming in, and they tried to take some shots at us. They hurt Karen in the shoulder, but me and Lisa managed to stay okay. We ran upstairs, and they kept shooting as from the closed doors. This time they got Lisa in the back. I roared in anger and shot back, emptying the clip at them.

And failed miserably at hitting any of them.

Karen pleaded me to get up therer, I snapped back and complied. We got everything ready: Guns, ammo, explosives, the works. I still think this place is my favorite refuge, but it was compromised. I'll miss having electricity.

The men came, guns blazing. We were overrun, and outgunned. Some of them, looking at Karen, whistled and laughed, making dirty remarks she responded. One of them came and told us to surrender our guns.

Karen shot him in the nuts. And the guys shot back.

I blacked out, and woke up weak, tied, and pissed.

Seeds

The seed bank used to be a modest building: A very large building that looked more like warehouse, painted dark green, and infront of it, written in large bold yellow letters were the words: "HERMOSILLO SEED BANK". But it had changed: The large metal doors have been ripped open, the words were almost left blank, graffiti was everywhere. But the fact that the doors were open worried me the most. I felt I was too late. But I wasn't gonna go back with nothing.

I loaded the AK and started moving. My steps made a wide echo as I walked on, the large metal ceiling had evidence of bird nests, and the occasional soft sound of a pigeon flying about. I looked everywhere, and it seems that, contrary to what I thought, the place was indeed ransacked. I looked around, and found very little seeds, but this would do: Mostly beans, corn, squash, bit of tomatoes, and to my luck, sweet oranges. While looking for seeds, you have see if they're organic, if not, it's a good chance the fruit won't have seeds, and that means a one shot investment. The upside is, they're tougher.

I was gonna leave from the same place I entered, until I heard the rumbling sound of a machine, slowly making it's way. I could hear the screeching of wrecked steel moving, and some people talking in English. I quickly hid, and waited. I saw a group of men, all with military gear, but they didn't look like soldiers, then I saw a tank. Big one, with desert cammo painted all over. Over it, there was a small white flag with a snake and the words "DON'T TREAD ON ME" writen below the coiled snake in black bold letters. I had no idea who these men were, but I wasn't gonna plan on asking. However, they did got inside the building, so I needed to move quietly.

I sneaked past them, and left the building. Once I was far enough, I started to run, hoping they would not notice the single guy darting the street.

Generator

One of the things I missed the most: Music.

Silence is a two-edged sword: For one, it comforts you, it tells you you're safe, it lets you sleep. On the other side, it's also a reminder that you are alone, that there is no cavalry that will help you whether you're surrounded by gangs, starving, or worst yet: Thirst.

Which leads me to this entry, which, after the last one, is probably one of my happiest entries so far.

We started looking for supplies near the market: Obviously it was empty. The hospital near it just as well, but the most eerie thing was the silence: Heavy, long, and frightening silence. It kept you on you feet, but it also let your imagination a wide space for it t play with your head: Every corner was a possible ambush. Every building could very well be at the point of falling apart. Karen and Lisa were there to keep me from going paranoid, and my dogs helped us to confirm that, in fact, we were alone.

We looked everywhere in the old hospital (which kept most of its modernist feel, despite decades of lack of maintenance, and the chaos of the Fires) for any scraps, but there wasn't any medicines or food supplies. Even pieces of metal were ripped and torn open. We did, however, found something that would later on be the most useful find.

In the supplies section, near the well-decayed corpse of a possible looter, was a portable generator. The thing seemed to run on diesel, and it looked very heavy, but this thing would help a lot in the museum. I told the girls to stay there and keep an eye for anyone. I got out and started looking for a car and stuff to help us move. I found an old truck -still with fuel- that wasn't damaged (very), some rope and a few pieces of cloth to help us haul the generator into the back of the car. It took us about a couple of hours and a lot of noise (I swear I was nervous all the time), but we were able to load it. Lisa had found a single diesel container still full of fuel, so that was more than useful. We moved slowly, due to the cars smashed and stalled in the middle of the street, but we finally made it.

None of use knew how to install it, though, and it took us a few solid hours of moving it through the stairs. And it took us about two or three days (not to mention several diesel runs in case we ran out) to figure out how to use it, but we did.

The first thing I did -And I learned it back a while when there was still the internet- how to connect my mp3 player. I always had it with me, for some reason, but it never occured to me to play it. The slender metallic square was there, charging, along with the power lines we found, and to my surprise, it still worked. I let it charging for a while with some wires, and I was happy as a clam. I looked around for some working speakers, but no luck, the Fires fried most of the electrical and electronic equipment in the museum. What was left in working conditions was under a EMERGENCY section in the basement, protected in a security cage that, in my opinion, could've acted as an impromtu Faraday Cage. So, what was left? A HAM radio transmitter (after all, this was a government building), a couple of flashlights, and a flare gun.

We took it all and installed the radio. Karen, to our surprise, actually knew how to use it, since her dad taught her the "radio hobby"and in less then a few hours, we had a working radio. It was a pleasant day, that one: The warm sun against the cool wind, Lisa playing with the dogs, the stillness of the city against the gentle sound of the nearby trees below us, and Karen, with her headphones, trying to get a signal.

There was only silence, and the only actual signal we received was an emergency broadcast. We were alone.

We had some expertise with the basics of electrical instalations, so we managed to rig some of it to the generator, We made it work, and we had lights, and a working fan. It all semeed as if the Fires never happened. We slept well that night, and Karen snuggled with me, and I hugged her back.

The next day, I figured that we needed to grow food if we were to use this place as our own settlement. I knew of a seed bank not so far off, closer to the market, but this time I needed to go alone. Too much of a risk to be along the girls and the dogs. Karen understood and assured me they would be alright.

I went along the street, but avoided to be in the open. There were charred bones, almost everywhere. Police cars and military cars crashed and burned in the sidelines, and several concrete barriers torn off by civilian cars. Weeds started to grow out of the cracks of the roads and the streets. I knew well most people would raid the supermarkets, the grocery stores, but very little people, at least city folk, would go for seed banks.

I headed over, and... Interesting things, would happen.