It’s moments like these, with no distractions, that you have time to think about what’s really important in life. In my life, it’s most certainly Abby. “I love you sweetie, and I miss you,” I say out loud to myself hoping that by some miracle she can hear me.
Chapter 8
As one might expect, I tossed and turned all night. A combination of having a lot on my mind, being worried the owners might somehow come home, and sleeping in a new environment is the perfect recipe for a poor night’s sleep. I lay awake for hours just thinking about how strange and crazy these past twenty-four hours have been. This type of thing just doesn’t happen to a normal person like me and I can’t grasp what is going on or why.
When I get up I think about how good a shower would feel. This is something I haven’t even thought of yet, but unless I start using my bottled water to bathe I’m going to be a real smelly mess soon. I haven’t showered since the night before last, when I thought I would be giving a big presentation. How entirely false that turned out to be.
What other things am I forgetting that could pose real problems later? With no modes of communication, I won’t be able to file my taxes! It’s actually comforting to know that even if everyone on Earth has disappeared, the IRS will still come after me when my taxes go unpaid in April.
For now, as long as I have food, water, and shelter, I can survive until I get this figured out or until someone comes and finds me.
Based on all of last night’s thinking, I’ve decided to make a trip to the local department store for supplies after I make it home. The store will no doubt be locked, but fortunately I now have a shovel to use as a key to get in. I’ll stock up on as much food and water as I can today, so I can leave this town first thing tomorrow.
Throughout the night, I came up with some great ideas I hadn’t thought of before. First, I found a solution to the no-gas-station situation. If I pick up a gas siphon pump, I can find a car on my drive to wherever I’m going and steal the remaining gas that’s left in that car. Cars have been around everywhere I go, so all I need to do is find one when I’m getting a little low. I’ve never actually siphoned gas before, but I can’t imagine it could be hard. Insert tube into both cars, and then do some sort of pumping action until you get the gas out of the other car and into yours. I remember when stealing gas was a huge problem in my high school years. Gas prices were out of control and climbing all the way to — wait for it – three dollars a gallon! Today, people would be dancing in the streets if prices dropped that low. It’s amazing how everyone thinks and acts the same way as everyone else. If other people are freaking out about three dollars a gallon for gas, they all stock up on siphons.
Second, I stock up on all the food and bottled water here before I leave. Mrs. Big Panties has loads of cereal and water but everything else needs to be cooked. I figure I should add some variety to my food choices when I get to the store. I can make peanut butter sandwiches while the bread is still fresh. I can also snack on nuts and potato chips.
Third, I figure I better pick up some protection that’s better than a shovel in case I have another Cujo attack or there’s a huge zombie outbreak. And speaking of zombies, I know it sounds stupid but I remember hearing about a book that was called Zombie Survival Guide. I think it was meant to be a joke but it gives a serious account of what you should do if there’s a zombie outbreak. Since my situation is similar to that, it might have some good tips regarding food and shelter. At the very least it would give me some entertainment in a no TV or Wi-Fi connection world.
After my morning bowl of cereal, I put my bowl in the dishwasher. Sure, I’ve smashed through this family’s window with a shovel, stolen things, and slept on their couch but that doesn’t mean I should lose my manners.
I consider leaving some money on their table. I’ve never bought a window before but I bet they’re expensive. Then I remember how cheap I am, and also that I may run into a human being later whom I need to bribe with cash. Sorry Mrs. Big Panties, pay for your own damn window. Insurance will cover it.
I begin stuffing every last cereal box and bottle of water I can into their over-sized suitcase and head out the back door. I place the gas tank on top of the suitcase and roll it. This frees up my other hand to carry my shovel and use it as a weapon against Cujo if he intrudes.
Now I’m ready and I open the backyard fence door. I look around the corner, expecting to see my little furry friend but don’t. Once I see he’s not there I take off in a light run. I go as fast as one possibly can while dragging a suitcase with a gas tank on top and holding a shovel. It doesn’t take long before I get winded. Yesterday, when I first started running, I didn’t have a dog chasing me, so I stopped to rest. Today, there’s no dog yet but I know he’s close — I can feel it. No matter how much pain I’m in, I’m not stopping until I make it home.
As I look around, it still seems deserted. I try to remember if any of the cars have moved or if anything else looks different. Nothing does, but I decide I don’t remember much because I was preoccupied with saving my life. I take a brief look behind me — still no signs of anything chasing me.
I only have a couple blocks to go. I’m starting to feel the stitch in my side but I ignore it. I can picture Cujo in my head chasing me; he smells my fear. I have a shovel now so I at least have a fighting chance, but it’s a fight I’d rather avoid.
One block to go. I can see my street sign in the short distance. I might make it! I don’t look back anymore for fear of what I might see.
I turn onto my street, which gives me a shot of adrenaline. I’m at a full sprint now. I’ve never wanted to be home so much in my entire life. The stitch in my side feels like it’s ready to burst open but I ignore it.
Just as I’m about to enter into my driveway the gas tank topples over, knocking the cap off in the process and spilling gas all over the sidewalk. I grab the tank as fast as I can, trying to save every last ounce of gas.
I pull up the garage door and drag my belongings into the garage. Then, making one last look back, fully expecting to see Cujo staring at me, I see nothing. Just an empty, quiet street. I pull the garage door down, loving every bit of the pitch-black darkness that ensues. I am safe once again.
I lie on the couch for what has to be a half hour trying to catch my breath. I’ve never felt more like an unhealthy, lazy piece of shit then I do now. Someone my age should not be huffing and puffing like this after such a short amount of exercise. Fortunately, nobody is here to witness it, so at least I still have my dignity. I wouldn’t even want Abby to see me in this state after jogging less than a mile.
Nevertheless, I’m thankful I didn’t see Cujo again. A battle with him would most likely have been a battle to the death. As much as I understand it would be in self-defense, I still can’t imagine myself killing a dog with a shovel. It’s so barbaric, so evil — even if Cujo is a crazed lunatic of a dog. I imagine myself taking one big swing at him and hearing a poor little whimper as it connects. I’m filled with regret just thinking about it.
After I catch my breath, I’m tempted to take a nap. I slept poorly last night and it takes everything I can just to stand up. I must get to the department store though. I’ve learned over the years that when something really needs to get done it’s best to get it over with as soon as possible. I once waited months to get my wisdom teeth remove because I hated the idea of having surgery. My teeth were rotted black! When I finally got the surgery I wondered why I hadn’t done it sooner.