Red Death: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller Read Online Free
Author: D.L. Robinson
Tags: post apocalyptic
dated as she could find, began to stack up. Rice, lots of flour, dried beans, salt, bags of sugar, even cookie mix and cans of Crisco were added to the stash.
She still had some of her mom’s old supplies, inherited after her folks passed away, and Tara remembered they’d had a couple of personal water filters they’d bought after 9/11. They were guaranteed to purify even water from a mud puddle, so Tara felt a little more secure about a water supply with those. But since they’d lain untouched all these years on her shelf, they’d need checking. I better go down and see if they’re still good.
Passing a sale on bleach, she hesitated, and then grabbed six jugs, just in case. That should do it . She’d read somewhere that you could use a few drops of bleach to purify water too, as well as disinfect any surface. A sudden vision of her and Lee lying dead with their half empty glasses of “purified” water in front of them flashed in her head, and she laughed out loud. An old woman pushing a cart past gave her a funny look.
Tara nodded and smiled, embarrassed, but her morbid sense of humor, coupled with her lack of even basic prepper knowledge, pushed her fear away and tickled her funny bone. Sure, maybe the internet could get her up to speed on a few things, but she truly hoped she would never have to know exactly how to purify water. As it was, Lee razzed her enough about her other germaphobic habits. But Tara knew what Lee nicknamed her “Howard Hughes” phobias kept her healthy, so they might just help with whatever came their way now. And that was that.
Tara didn’t want to appear any stranger than she had to, so she decided to buy this batch of stuff, then hit up another area store for paper products and whatever else they had that was different from what she’d already bought. Tara fielded a few questions from the clerk by saying she was restocking the pantry for the winter, since they didn’t like to drive in the snow. The total came to almost two hundred dollars. She paid in cash, and then loaded it into her SUV.
Next, she drove to the other store in town and bought two carts full of paper towels and toilet paper, along with jugs of water and quite a few more cans.
Tara drove past Marla’s house on the corner on the way into her rear driveway. There were no vehicles or people in suits anywhere. A wave of sadness at Frank and Marla’s deaths and a sense of unreality washed over her. This feels like a bad dream . She looked at her watch and it saw was almost time for Lee. Thank God.
Tara pulled in and sat in her car for a moment, thinking about the breeze that had blown her hair back each of the days she had worked outside in the garden. Before the hazmat suits decontaminated the house, before they’d cleaned up the puke she’d heard Marla splatter onto her back patio. A cold chill ran through her. I don’t want to give it to Lee if I’ve got it.
Suddenly, she remembered a dream she’d had just before this all started. She dreamed “it” was everywhere. In the great lakes the fish were bleeding, the animals were dying, bleeding from every opening. And in the dream, it was like a judgment from God, the feeling she’d had, like it was all going to come true.
Tara had awakened in a pool of sweat, gasping at the realism of it. The shock of recognition now hit her full force along with the memory. Bleeding, Ebola. Why did I forget that dream? Because it was too scary? Because it didn’t make sense then? God help us all.
Tara’s Diary
Dec 10 th 2015
Looking back on the beginning of it now, I remember how sorry I was for those people in Africa, way across the world in some muggy, jungle area I knew nothing about. But here in my middle-class, white bread American world, it didn’t stick.
The first American case was an African man who arrived in Texas and was promptly diagnosed with Ebola. He died and then his nurses caught it. The government botched all aspects of the case, hid it
She still had some of her mom’s old supplies, inherited after her folks passed away, and Tara remembered they’d had a couple of personal water filters they’d bought after 9/11. They were guaranteed to purify even water from a mud puddle, so Tara felt a little more secure about a water supply with those. But since they’d lain untouched all these years on her shelf, they’d need checking. I better go down and see if they’re still good.
Passing a sale on bleach, she hesitated, and then grabbed six jugs, just in case. That should do it . She’d read somewhere that you could use a few drops of bleach to purify water too, as well as disinfect any surface. A sudden vision of her and Lee lying dead with their half empty glasses of “purified” water in front of them flashed in her head, and she laughed out loud. An old woman pushing a cart past gave her a funny look.
Tara nodded and smiled, embarrassed, but her morbid sense of humor, coupled with her lack of even basic prepper knowledge, pushed her fear away and tickled her funny bone. Sure, maybe the internet could get her up to speed on a few things, but she truly hoped she would never have to know exactly how to purify water. As it was, Lee razzed her enough about her other germaphobic habits. But Tara knew what Lee nicknamed her “Howard Hughes” phobias kept her healthy, so they might just help with whatever came their way now. And that was that.
Tara didn’t want to appear any stranger than she had to, so she decided to buy this batch of stuff, then hit up another area store for paper products and whatever else they had that was different from what she’d already bought. Tara fielded a few questions from the clerk by saying she was restocking the pantry for the winter, since they didn’t like to drive in the snow. The total came to almost two hundred dollars. She paid in cash, and then loaded it into her SUV.
Next, she drove to the other store in town and bought two carts full of paper towels and toilet paper, along with jugs of water and quite a few more cans.
Tara drove past Marla’s house on the corner on the way into her rear driveway. There were no vehicles or people in suits anywhere. A wave of sadness at Frank and Marla’s deaths and a sense of unreality washed over her. This feels like a bad dream . She looked at her watch and it saw was almost time for Lee. Thank God.
Tara pulled in and sat in her car for a moment, thinking about the breeze that had blown her hair back each of the days she had worked outside in the garden. Before the hazmat suits decontaminated the house, before they’d cleaned up the puke she’d heard Marla splatter onto her back patio. A cold chill ran through her. I don’t want to give it to Lee if I’ve got it.
Suddenly, she remembered a dream she’d had just before this all started. She dreamed “it” was everywhere. In the great lakes the fish were bleeding, the animals were dying, bleeding from every opening. And in the dream, it was like a judgment from God, the feeling she’d had, like it was all going to come true.
Tara had awakened in a pool of sweat, gasping at the realism of it. The shock of recognition now hit her full force along with the memory. Bleeding, Ebola. Why did I forget that dream? Because it was too scary? Because it didn’t make sense then? God help us all.
Tara’s Diary
Dec 10 th 2015
Looking back on the beginning of it now, I remember how sorry I was for those people in Africa, way across the world in some muggy, jungle area I knew nothing about. But here in my middle-class, white bread American world, it didn’t stick.
The first American case was an African man who arrived in Texas and was promptly diagnosed with Ebola. He died and then his nurses caught it. The government botched all aspects of the case, hid it
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