Notes on a Toxic Jungle

April 1, 2022 (maybe)

What do you write in a journal during the apocalypse? My name is Sarah Peterson, and I am alive and it’s the apocalypse. I guess I could tell you about my degree and my job and all that, but it just seems silly. None of that stuff matters anymore. Right, now that that’s out of the way I guess I’ll start at the beginning of this whole fiasco.

I can’t help but think about before, when the world was mostly safe and there were billions of people. I can’t help but think about where I was when everything started, or rather when everything ended. I was sitting on my porch watching a sailboat on the horizon when the world ended. I didn’t know that at the time of course. The sun was setting, and in the splendor of oranges and pinks, I didn’t even notice the strange flashes of light they simply blended into the cosmic lightshow painted across the sky. That was only a year ago, or there abouts, it’s hard to keep track of time these days.

Those lights in the sky, that I didn’t even see, were the result of an experiment gone wrong. Before the news went dark there was talk about this experiment but no one seemed to know what kind of experiment. Some said the experiment was something to do with genetically modifying crops so that they would grow bigger and faster. I mean, were they modifying them to take over the world and get dangerous and crazy? Another theory was that it was biological warfare gone wrong, if you could turn a nation into a toxic jungle that would really take the fight out of them don’t you think? That explanation sounds more plausible to me… Who knows what happened, all I know is that within a week of the lights the world was different place. Something happened to the plants to make them bigger, they grow faster too, and handy bonus they all got more ferocious. Spikes, poisons, and other plant defense mechanism started showing up. They spread fast too. The cities are mostly gone, there are some building still standing but most of them have been consumed by the jungle.

Not just the plants either, the animals have changed too, become more dangerous and predatory. That’s why I find myself in a tree, it’s safer if you’re off the ground, I’ve got a little base camp up here. I scavenged some boards and got them up here one at a time used them and tree branches and made a platform the tree itself is the roof. It took me a while but now I have a little shack up here complete with a porch with a flimsy barrier. Things aren’t so bad, I’m alive and I’ve got my base camp at least. Some boards, a sleeping bag, a backpack, this notebook and pen and some color pencils, and some other meager supplies… some base camp, but it could be worse.

April 5, 2022

Once again, I am on my porch and the sun is setting. I can tell because the light is fading but I can’t see much of the sky because the canopy gets in the way. That’s all there is anymore, canopy and vegetation as far as the eye can see. Huge trunks and hanging vines fill the world now, and they are armed with spikes and poison pollens. Good news, there are still edible things out there and if you watch your step, you can survive the toxic jungle. Bad news? Well, it’s been about six months since I’ve seen another person. Well, give or take six months since I don’t have a calendar or a phone to tell me the date, I try to keep track but it’s difficult.

April 7, 2022

The last people I saw said they were heading to the “Sanctuary.” Apparently, there is supposed to be some safe place for humanity out there. They heard about it from someone whose brother’s cousin’s wife’s friend had been there, or something like that. I want to believe it. I really do, but I have my doubts. Safety in the toxic jungle is not an easy feat. Catchy name, right? Thought of it all by myself. Technically it's a jungle in some places, and a forest in others... but toxic jungle sounds cooler than toxic forest, right? Anyway, where was I? Ok, I started this journal because, it is good to have an account of what happened. Plus, I want people to know I existed… I think I’ll hit the hay.

April 8, 2022

It’s probably bad that the world has ended and there is no one around and I am still lying. It’s worse maybe, I mean what’s the point of a journal if you’re going to lie to yourself? I am writing this journal to stave off the soul crushing loneliness I feel. There. I said it. I am lonely. The other stuff I said is true too, I guess, but who’s going to read this anyway? If I die tomorrow, this account of the end of the world isn’t going to do anyone any good. I can’t stay here alone forever, I have figured out how to stay safe mostly, but sitting in a tree by myself isn’t living.

I know the Sanctuary is probably just some silly pipe dream that doesn’t exist, but what else have I got to do? I mean I could stay here in my little tree house, scavenge food, try not to die, and watch the jungle grow. Super tempting, but it’s time to for action. Even if there is no sanctuary, maybe I can find other people, I made it maybe someone else did too. The last people I saw said the sanctuary was in the west, what used to be called California. Now it’s called toxic jungle, just like the rest of the world. I have a compass; I could just travel west and see what I find.

April 15, 2022

The last week has been mostly uneventful. Ok, I guess nearly getting pulled into a swampy spike filled pit by some very insistent vines is an event. There were also those creepy spider wolf things that were looking at me and those sickly-sweet smelling flowers that made me feel weird and sleepy... Still, it was just another week in the wilds. That’s what happens when you’re on the ground. Trees are safer, but I couldn’t get supplies hiding up here in the trees I had to go to the bottom level for that. There are still things left in foliage. I guess I am about ready to pack up and hit the road. Not that there are roads anymore, but you get the idea. Just a few more supply runs, and I will be ready for my trip west.

April 21, 2022

Today is the day. I have my compass, I even found a spare in what I think used to be a Target, and I know which way west is. Guess I’m ready to go. I am going to try and stay up in the trees as much as I can. The branches are packed together pretty tight, with any luck, I won’t have to go to the ground at all. Maybe Sanctuary really exists, maybe there are people there…

Maybe I am the last person left on this planet, but I won’t believe that. I made it. I’m just an ordinary girl. If I made it other people made it too. I must believe that. What is a world without people?

This is it. The end of the journal. Maybe I’ll start another one to catalogue the journey, but I have decided that I am going to leave this one here. Just in case. Maybe someone will find it, and they will know they are not the only one alive. If you are reading this, I exist. I am still out there somewhere. Come find me. I am Sarah Peterson, and I am going to find Sanctuary or make one of my own.