It’s 2AM, and the whiskey has done its work.
I can still hear the dead outside, walking around, scratching at the doors and windows, but I no longer care. I’ve managed to drink away the last of my survival instinct. It went down cold and bitter, like the Tequila once did.
I miss Tequila.
The cameras on the wall still follow my every move. I suspect they’re programmed now. No one left alive to control their movements. Not in this world.
The light outside the window is bright. Too bright for the middle of the night. The sun doesn’t work anymore, anyway.
It’s a trick, it has to be. I wonder who’s behind it. I don’t think the dead are that clever. Maybe I’ll ask the one who brings my pills. It should be along, soon. It’s been nearly three hours.
You don’t have to tell me, you know. I realize that I’m not all right. There’s something wrong inside my head. Things no longer track.
Would you be okay in these circumstances? If the dead walked and the sun refused to shine and a decomposing nurse brought you little blue pills every three hours? I didn’t think so.
Dammit, the whiskey is wearing off.
Where are my clothes?
Tell me about it… I’m not the biggest fan of tequila but on the other hand I’d wish I had a bottle of J&B (just can’t get that stuff where I live!) ready. Or Tullamore. Hell, I could even do with Grant’s now. All I’ve got is the sad remnants of some suspicious vodka imported from Germany(!).
Back on topic. Interesting stuff – and at a quick glance it seems like you got a lot of interesting stuff here on your blog, which I’ll be sure to check out.
Maybe you’d like to pay my blog http://lovenoir.wordpress.com a visit – these days I’m posting a comic called “When We Are Forgotten”, which actually has quite a couple of parallels to what you’re writing in this post (except that the dead don’t walk in my story). Feel free to drop a comment