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The Attic - A survivors story

“I haven’t told anyone.

Now you are asking me to give it to you in detail. As a part of history that must be recorded for the future generations to learn how we survived.

I need a drink for this. Red, a nice Merlot. “

                -Kim Jessup 2014-

We heard a string of sirens. Our house is kind of back from the streets and fenced off; we couldn’t see what was happening and if the TV had been on we may not have heard the noise. It sounded like every police car and fire truck in the city was running down 52^nd and stopping just near our block. I first thought it was a fire at that church, Jesus light of the world camp. I don’t even go down Duke during that week; it is always filled up around July 4^th with families staying in those weird little cabins.

Then gunfire broke out. My daughter was using her computer and our power cut out. I decided the safest place would be the living room, the Jesus camp was to the east and staying to the west end of the house would keep any stray bullets from getting us. After five minutes the gunfire stopped, but the sirens were still blaring on some of the vehicles.

It was already getting hot for 10am. I moved Meg to the couch; she was not safe in the house if I left her mobile in her power wheelchair. Outside I moved the ladder to the fence in the back to see if I had a view of the disturbance. The sirens started to quiet, someone was turning them off one at a time. I could not see anything; as I was heading in I heard a loud screech of a speaker.

 All I could understand was “Stay Indoors. Barricade”. Then the speaker went quiet and something was rising, something I could not have imagined. A roar would not be the way to describe it, but really nothing could fit the sound.

I ran back in the house and rushed into the garage. My home was full of big windows on a single level; the only place we could barricade was the garage. I moved some things around and started emptying the kitchen cupboards into boxes and dragging all the bedding out of the bedrooms. I brought Meg in, and put her on the cushions and then went back in the house for my husbands guns. We had all the supplies moved in the garage, and I started making the space as dark as possible to keep it cool.

It was almost 5pm when I could hear something at the fence, our 6ft tall wooden fence around but the driveway was open.  Despite my efforts it was still very hot in the garage. I had just slipped inside for the bathroom when I saw it. I guess more importantly, it saw me. I froze and took it in; he was outside and on the patio. He was big, at least 6’4” and was very strongly built, his grey skin lead down to tattered black lips. In his left hand he was carrying the lower end of a leg with a combat boot on. It looked as if it had been ripped off someone. The monster’s legs were all cut up, but not bleeding more like oozing a thick substance of a dark color. He has lost one of his flip flops and one of his toes. With so much blood covering his clothes I could only barely make out a cross on his shirt, he was from the church camp. I am certain it started there. Then he, it, pulled his lips back exposing bloodstained teeth and he let out a loud moan. The sound surrounded my house, I could almost see it enveloping me and drawing me in to a trance. Meg’s sweet voice broke me from its hold, calling me back. She was afraid, I was terrified. Just as I began to move he raised the dismembered leg and began to use it to hit our glass patio door.

I turned back and shut the metal door to the garage. It would have had to break the sliding door to get in; I only had a few minutes to hide us. Dragging Meg into the garage attic was nearly impossible. At 12, she had to be almost as big as me but with no real strength to help it was pure adrenaline that got us up there. I had boxes stored up there, and had enough thought to move one arm full of supplies up with us. Once I got her up there I reached down and pulled the ladder in with us and closed the thin drywall hatch. Falling into the boxes I lay still, Meg was quiet. She rarely made any sound so I knew I could rest. I had wet my pants but did not even have the energy to remove them.

I don’t know how long I slept; when I awoke I could hear them inside the house. It was then that I realized that I did not get Meg’s seizure medication from the kitchen. She would scream if she went into a seizure, loudly, and they would find us. They would tear her little body to pieces, her life was so precious to me and I wish I could just hold her in safety forever. I carefully moved to her and she was sleeping. I just sat still in the darkness for what seemed like forever, listening to the sound of them inside my home. Searching for me, but still silent I waited.

I didn’t know how long it was before it happened, it could have been days we were sealed in the dark, hot attic or just hours. The heat was so dangerous for Meg, and I knew she was going to seize. I felt her muscles begin to tremble. My fear exploded inside, and I didn’t know how to protect her. Help was not coming for us, but the monsters knew we were somewhere inside. Her body was so warm and sweaty, every muscle on her was vibrating, and I held her head in my lap. It was happening. I could not let them find us, they cannot have her. Just 10 feet away in our kitchen we have over a months worth of medication for her, enough supplies to keep her healthy and safe up here till they leave. I didn’t know how to stop her from seizing with out her valium so I held her close and tight; I cried softly as  I used a part of a pillow to cover her mouth and muffle her screaming.

I was trapped up there for 5 days with her body before I was able to get down. I had no water after the first day and had sat crying in there.  The monsters stayed searching in my home for us for 5 days. Once they had left the neighbor came over to check in on us, he had been watching from his attic and when he didn’t hear screams or see me shuffle out as one of them; he knew we had made it. Only I had made it.

My whole home was destroyed by them, I had thought I would bring Meg down and lay her to rest in her own room but it was destroyed. There was urine and what I could only guess as feces all over the floors, they had shuffled all of the furniture around and pushed holes in the walls. She is still in that attic, resting on a cushion. I brought her up some of her favorite things, a Hannah Montana blanket and the bear her dad had made for her. Then I closed the drywall hatch and left with a few guns.

I did it to save her from them. I did not want her to feel the dread I had felt just seeing one of them, let alone the pain of what they would have done to her.

I survived, but the loss of my child was my fault. I forgot her medicine. I held the pillow over her face. I failed to save her; and now I am forced to live with this. 

The Walking Dead...

The Walking dead is a graphic novel about zombies and I consider it to be a definitive work for the genre. Think Stephen King's The Stand with zombies in comic book form. If you want to know how bad the zombie apocalypse is going to be you should pop up some popcorn and settle in with this new classic. And yes that is a little kid fighting off the undead in what looks to be his final stand.

Everybody wants to hide from zombies at Costco

I think this is a question that sees down into the heart of a person, tells who they are really and weather they will survive. The question is "Where do you go when the zombie hoards come?" Now I have discussed this at length and many times with my friends and the consensus often times is Costco for the food, fuel and castle like impregnability. I've heard colleges and high schools and cabins in the woods and I am wondering what you all think about were you would go, why is it a good to go there. This segment will be ongoing as it is generally a hot topic of debate.

{image via flickr}