Once Upon a Barn

Previously, in Part 2: Keys and Cake

Part 3

A search through the hotel was my first order of business, but I never told you about it, did I, Diary Dear.

Did you ever hear the phrase “Stand tall and carry a big stick?”

(Of course not; you’re a freakin’ book.)

Well, I don’t stand tall—I’m too short for that. But before I ever came in here, I found myself a big stick. You know—just in case.

The place has a small lobby and 20 rooms. I’d call it a motel, but somewhere along the line Mom told me that motels have their entrance doors outside, and hotels have their doors inside. Maybe she had it backward; how would I know?

It’s a hotel, okay? Who is there to argue with me?

I snuck in the lobby door quiet as a mouse; I could see from outside that there was no one at the front desk, but that didn’t mean no one was here. Once I was in, I locked the door with the latch.

Then, as I searched, I prayed locking the door hadn’t been a mistake.

My luck, you know…

There were no cars in the parking lot, and that was what made me hope I’d be alone. But I was pretty scared. I was scared there’d be people here. I was also scared I might find bodies.

First I was quiet; then I banged around a bit to see if anyone would respond. Then I took all the excellent old-fashioned keys and opened all the doors, one by one.

The place was empty.

I found the key to the front door and double locked myself inside the building.

Next, I searched all the rooms and collected soap, lotion and shampoo, coffee packets and tea bags and sugar. Then I got all the towels and wash cloths. I put everything in room eighteen, shut all the doors and took stock.

I wanted room eighteen, because Mom’s birthday was on the eighteenth of this month, and I wanted to be with her by then.

As you know, you cute little book, that didn’t happen. But I’m not changing rooms.

There was a coffee maker, a microwave oven and a small refrigerator in my room. No electricity, though. That was remedied when I got the little generator from the Ace Hardware store down the road. I run the bigger one at the gas station to keep the dry ice frozen. Plenty of gasoline there.

That’s where I have stored all the meat I could get my hands on, plus milk and cheese and butter and stuff like that. Thank goodness it’s such a big freezer.

Every few days I have to get a new block of dry ice for my little fridge. It lasts a long time.

This morning I indulged myself with another slice of chocolate cake and a cup of hot coffee. Bliss.

I brushed my teeth and sobbed at my reflection in the mirror. I never noticed, until now, how much I look like my mother and my son. I can see them both in my face; especially my eyes. For years I denied any resemblance to my mother, believing I was all Daddy’s girl. I was wrong.

I want my baby. I want my Mom.

This sucks.

I have paper plates from the dollar store, and I save the dirty ones to start my charcoal fires when I cook. I shouldn’t be so lazy. But oh-fucking-well. I don’t have time to wash dishes; I gotta find my family.

Last night, during the time I ran the geni, I recharged my phone. It’s pretty much useless these days, but the camera works and I can flip through all the photos and videos of Mom and Aaron. And, hey—the music files all work, too.

Mostly, I keep it turned off. But I wanted it today, since I planned on going out to that old barn.

Instead of yesterday’s meandering route, I drove straight out to the corn field and made my way around it until I could get fairly close to the structure I’d noticed before.

From the other side, the side I could drive up to the barn through, the corn field was overtaken by a field of wheat.

I found myself wondering about how to harvest wheat to make bread. Next stop, library.

I was trembling by then, Dear Diary. It looked deserted and decrepit. I wasn’t even sure if it was a barn or a house, but there were outbuildings and broken down fencing, and my curiosity was overwhelming my fear, so I parked and got out of the car.

The air smelled fresh and clean, so I didn’t expect to find dead bodies—at least nothing that had died in the last several days.

That was a relief, you know. I haven’t been so fortunate most days since the bombs fell. I find bodies all the time.

They say you can get used to anything, but that’s just bullshit. You never get used to it.

I made my way to the smaller structure first. I think the next strong wind will put that one on the ground. There was nothing much inside, and what was there would be of no use to me in the future. A few field mice scampered away when I stepped inside, and it was all I could do not to let out a shriek. That made me feel small and stupid—they’re no bigger than the palm of my hand, so why should they scare me?

The bigger building did look rather house-like, but once I stepped inside, I knew it had been a barn.

The roof was sagging and the inside featured a hay loft, with steps leading up to it that looked like they might still be capable of bearing weight. The dirt floor was littered with debris and lit in spots by sunshine filtering through the boards of the structure that had shrunken and warped, leaving wide gaps in between.

Dust motes sparkled like glitter in the sunbeams. It was pretty, in a weird way.

I took a few pictures, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something on the stairs; a child, perhaps. I yanked my phone away from my face.

There was no one there.

Was there?

Still, it seemed to me that the temperature inside had plunged several degrees, and I shivered. I backed my way out the doorway and into the full sunlight outside. I wasn’t afraid; ghosts, if there are any, probably don’t care much about me. I’ve always figured they’d have their own agenda—nothing that included little ol’ Shelby.

Just before I turned my back, I saw something in a far corner, bathed in a sunbeam—a flower!

It was a marigold; a single bloom, growing up through the dirt floor of the decrepit old barn. I caught my breath. It affected me more than the possible ghost sighting of moments before.

If a flower can find a way to live in such a desolate place, certainly there is hope for me. And that hope includes a life where I find my son and my mother!

There wasn’t anything else for me out there for the time being, though, so I came straight back to the hotel to write this down.

I don’t know why it’s so damned important to me to document this. Who would ever read it? I guess it just makes me feel better—not so all alone. And if I find—

Scratch that. WHEN I find Aaron and Mom, I can show them everything.

Like the pictures.

The pictures!

Hang on…

Hot damn! Guess what? I did see a child—a little girl! She was on the steps!

What do you know? There are ghosts!

Well, shit. That’s disconcerting, isn’t it?

Don’t worry; I’m not going to be looking for them. I’m still a little more concerned with running into living people. Living people could be dangerous.

More dangerous than zombies.

Nah! I don’t believe in zombies.

(Didn't really believe in ghosts, either, did I?)

I’m giving myself the heebie-jeebies again.

Look: I have some milk in the fridge. I have the rest of my chocolate cake. I am going to partake of some comfort food and listen to a little music and then I am going out to find the library before it gets late.

I shall study wheat. That's what I'll do.

Cheers, Dear Diary!

Coming Next: Part 4: Boxes and Bombs

This story is a continuation of Shelby's life-after-the-end series. You can find the others here:

Part 1

Part 2

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