Ex-Communication by Peter Clines (love story books to read .txt) 📕

my diary and I can’t remember them, either. But each one seems to begin where the last one ends, even if I didn’t remember it then.

I wonder if I had a head injury. Dad said short-term amnesia’s kind of common with head injuries. I think I’m fine now, and I don’t feel any bumps or blood or anything. Maybe I got knocked out of the car (truck? jeep? They told me the name of it but I don’t remember) and hurt my head and wandered around for a couple of days.

Why didn’t they come get me, though? If I fell out of the car wouldn’t they come back for me? Unless they couldn’t for some reason.

And how did my old clothes get ripped up? Could that happen just from falling out of the car? Maybe if I rolled through some bushes or something? Or crawled out of a car crash?

There was a duffle bag in the Mini. I took out some of the jeans and bigger-cut clothes and filled the empty space with food and water. Was I looting? Stealing? When does it become okay to take other people’s stuff? I couldn’t find any sign of anyone else there. When I first saw the bloody shirt I thought it belonged to the car owner, but my diary says I found it in an SUV miles away.

I spent today heading north, away from the Mini.

There were a couple zombies, but I saw them before they saw me. They’re pretty easy to dodge. I think they need to be in big groups to be dangerous.

I passed a few more cars. They all have different license plates. Arizona. New Mexico. California. Nevada. There aren’t enough of any one type for me to figure out where I am. Some of them have dead people in them. Some of the dead people are moving, but they can’t figure out how to open the doors. They don’t react to me when they’re in the cars. I figured that out pretty quick.

In some of the safe cars I found some more food and water. Some clothes closer to my size. Still no shoes or underwear. I hope this bra holds up because it’s thrashed.

I need to find a new phone or maybe a watch or something. That’ll help me keep track of what day it is. And I need to find Mom.

July August 1st 2nd, 2009

Dear Diary,

This is going to have to be qui

August 1st 3rd???, 2009

Dear Diary,

Dammit, I know yesterday was the day I found out it was August 1st. I remember it. But there’s another entry. Part of one. I stopped writing and I don’t know why. Did something interrupt me? Did I fall asleep?

I think I have that Memento disease. The special amnesia that guy had. I shouldn’t’ve been making out with Rick all through the movie. And we even skipped back so we’d have more time. First time at second base doesn’t seem quite as important anymore in the big scheme of things.

Should I start writing stuff on my arms like he did? I remember that part. Maybe I should try sleeping with the journal in my lap so I always read it when I wake up.

I woke up in a drainpipe under the road. It was pretty dry. I don’t think it’s rained out here in a while. I was using the duffle bag as a pillow. I had one of those tinfoil space blankets I don’t remember picking up anywhere. There’s nothing in the journal about it, but it says I found cars with stuff in them. Maybe I found it and didn’t write it down.

I found a road sign. It was right above the drainpipe. Now I’m wondering if I might’ve found a bunch of them and just didn’t write them down.

It’s a green shield that says 95. Interstate 95 is on the East Coast, but I’m not sure where highway 95 is. Maybe there’s more than one? I’m supposed to be in Arizona and every car I’ve seen is from a Southwest state, except for one from Virginia I saw this afternoon. It had a dead family in it—a man and woman and two little boys. They were rotting and dead and I was really glad they had their windows rolled up. Their car was off the road but pointed south.

It still feels like yesterday was the day I was in the car with Mom. Like when you have a long day and you think “Wow, was that only yesterday?” Except for me it wasn’t yesterday and it feels like it was.

I wonder if Mom made it to Dad? I wonder if they’re looking for me. I’ve got to figure out where I am so I can try to find them. Got to be smart, though. Dad always says to think first, think second, and then act third. If I keep heading north I’ll find something I can locate on a map, and then I can figure out how to get where I’m supposed to be.

I need to find a new phone, or a watch, or something. That’ll help me keep track of days and stuff better.

I need to find Mom and Dad. It’s been almost a week. They’re probably worried sick about me.

February 15th, 2010

Dear Diary,

Okay, WTF?! I have no idea how but it’s February. Halfway through February. How did seven months go by and I didn’t know? Yesterday was August 1st 3rd! I know it was! I woke up and I remembered to check my diary. I remember writing that page. Today was August 4th. I knew it was the 4th because yesterday was the 3rd. But this watch has hands and a digital readout. The time matches up on them. The date on the digital part says 2-15-2010.

I missed Valentine’s Day. Dammit.

I wonder if I only remember the 3rd because I wrote it down. Maybe I did a lot of stuff yesterday (the real yesterday) and the day before that and the day before that, but