Blatant LOPE Ripoff fifteen (Where is Everybody?)

Alex.

N-o for yesterday. Today's Tuesday the eight. Nothing eventful happened then, save for me finding Will writing about me in a notebook he's had hidden in 'is pocket. I'd known me own entries would not be the only ones being written what with twelve of us here in this vacant, seemingly barren world. Yet from day one, I've felt he's been hiding something from me, and I intend to find out what it is. I spent the entirety of yesterday getting canned and salted groceries, as well as live, edible plants for our (small) field. He still gives me the willies, but he doesn't scare the hell out of me that I cannot stand to be in his mere presence anymore. He's just a well intentioned extremist guy. There's no way he can afford to make enemies out of us all, can he?

Anyway, when we came back, we had to prompt him to give us a hand-- we're still using that word-- to carry the final box, if any into the house. I said I don't trust him on day two, but I feel I do now. He has been writing in that piece of binding since that morning and hadn't left his den for any purpose but to piss in the yard. I did not think much of it then, as I had other things on my mind. Pickering is feeling better today, yet we must get more jerky. She's not weak anymore, but we need to keep her strength up. Especially if we are going to have her help us scan the world about us and increase our odds. I never wanted to look like a horse, but it's far from the worst thing that could happen. My equanimity is not the others' situation, though. Anthony hasn't complained about it, but he's been on a slight downer for the past two days. Perhaps he hadn't ever been accustomed to manual labor. He should thank his lucky stars it's not real, explicit danger.

The police have been quiet. Or more specifically, the former cop hasn't been particularly outspoken for the past five days, either. I guess he's realised he's been officially stripped of all earthly rank along with the rest of us when the entire populace vanished. He's never come off as specifically macho to me, but he has commanded some degree of authority when he opened his mouth to speak. This is especially when the mares have gone out on their own to see the (narrow) world and tried to find people out in it. They have been completely unfruitful, yet so have they. No one else has turned up in the past week. Or since the dog turned up in any case. I like Mr Hadley, the more outspoken one. But I also like the less outspoken one. He seems extremely pragmatic whenever he does occasionally speak. He recently asked me about this power surrounding us. I couldn't name it, but I imagine we should call it something. The others haven't been all that concerned about it, but Anthony and I have been noticing it as normal as the UV that surrounds us everyday, and we've established that is normal even before this mess.

"Why can you two detect it and the rest of us cannot?" A good question. And I'd be all too happy to answer it had I an answer. "It may or may not have something to do with this channeler we both have on our heads, works like an antenna. This is only a mere hypothesis." He seemed somewhat content with this answer. "Why did you run away that evening? Or to be more forthright, why did you hide where none of us might find you in such short notice? Did you get spooked that badly you succumbed to phobia? Was there anything about that machine you could tell was objectively and certainly harmful, and therefore must be averted?"

I paused and thought about it. In truth, it was nothing more and nothing less than a silly, stupid, unreliable gut feeling that I should not have listened to. And if anyone was there to see it, I'd likely look like a fool. But I'm not retracting my story. That's what I felt and that's what I did. I will not retract it. Shall I play the fool for nothing or try to justify it?

"I found that energy was nowhere around it. There was combustion, exhaust, but no life sustaining waves about it. It was like a dead zone, only now I don't need machines to know about it. It carried this aura, or lack thereof with it constantly, and seemed to repel these waves. After being saturated with it for a week or two, and seeing all of you and every plant hoard it like misers while inanimate objects give and take it, it was jarring to see something that repels it. No reason to be afraid on those grounds were it not for the damned voice in me head telling me to cave. So I did."

We left it at that, but not before Sherman said I should talk with Anthony more of this if I haven't, and be more forthright about it to everybody else. They can't sense raw energy like we can, and would benefit to know if any of these behemoths show up again. The rest of that day was spent getting more groceries canned. I hope I don't go looney. I don't want to become like Will.

In the evening when I got back to the house, Sam and Joanna came to greet me. It really excites them to see me come back home. Joanna then followed me to me bedroom. We came in to see Sweet Stuff on the bed looking at the door and the two animals coming in. We made new arrangements. Sweet and I are now sharing the room. She decided she had sulked enough and that it was time to live again. I was ecstatic when she said we could share the bed, and sleep in it together, but I hesitated. Somehow, this doesn't seem so right. I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. Let her keep the bed. Act like a gentle-clot.

Till tomorrow, Alex Chance Torrez.

Will
Tuesday eighth of June.
As I was saying, Torrez has been the most obnoxious horse I have ever encountered since this bird creature has been starving. What do I care if this avian nightmare suffers from malnutrition? More time for me to write about my feelings. S/he also has this tendency to talk like s/he's English. What the hell? That doesn't usually bother me, but I can tell when it's forced, and it drives me nuts when someone puts so much effort into putting on an act they don't have any practical need to when being themselves isn't detrimental. Also, does Torrez sound more Mexican or British to you?

Back to what I've been up to the whole two weeks, The following day, I went out with man-horse Anthony. We went out together in search of fellow returnees. It was about twelve noon we found them. The way one of them was named, I'd think he was a mare. He was a stallion, as was his brother. Two young guys, one of which was previously a police officer were squatting at the side of the road, the only car parked on the curbside, which naturally stuck out like a sore thumb. When we came nearer it, Anthony said he can feel a presence in it. I rolled my eyes and said "Sure you do." But I decided to humor him. What else was there to do? When we did, we heard the sounds of munching.

Down we looked, and two small horse creatures from outer space were squatting beneath the seats, eating what looked like cheese sandwiches. They looked up, and their eyes lit up upon seeing me.

The purple haired one waved at me and said: "HI! I thought we might see someone sooner or later. I guess you suddenly emerged in an empty world in a new body like we did, huh?" I could tell he was male, but his voice was real high pitched. In fact, no one I've met sounds any older then a preteen. Has no one been past puberty?

I let Anthony talk: "Hey, Mister..." "Hadley. Monica Hadley. And this here's my brother Sherman." "Nice to meet you," he said. Anthony chimed in: "I beg your pardon, but isn't Monica typically a female name?" Then he clenched his teeth. "Yes, it most assuredly is. Don't make a case out of it." "Whoa, no need to be angry, no intent to offend, just a small comment, a harmless observation. I meant nothing by it." "That's alright. It's alright. I'm just glad you didn't... nevermind."

Sherman said nothing after nice to meet you, but he and his brother eagerly came with us to the Torrez place. Monica then revealed he was of the SFPD. That's exactly the kind of person we need. A police officer. And one from SF of all places. Goodness knows there's more hippies and beatniks in SF than there are in LA. I'd live there if I could afford it. But it doesn't matter now. Without people, we're just as well off here.

"For five flipping days, I'd been protesting to have a week or half a week off with my brother. Now I got it. But it may be quite a bit longer than I expected now. I used to live here in LA, you know? Our folks always said we were a couple of basement dwellers who wouldn't amount to anything. I showed them. So did Sherm, even if only by coming with me. He has been on and off of several things, but he always had me to back him up. I still think he is the brighter of us two."

He really knows how to talk your ears off. I had folded mine after five minutes. When pulling up to Alex's place, I was the first to leap out and run in. I told Alex and immediately retreated to the bottle before coming back out to watch the others converse at a distance.

The next day we went to the mall so I could get medical supplies, or makeshift ones. When we found the door locked, I had to open it myself by smashing/picking the lock. A padlock on a gate, and a door-lock on a door. I got this skill out of Marcelli who always wanted to see me get my crooked traits on. I never did them. The most I would do is scavenge and be bossy. I didn't always agree with the law, but I would obey it as I needed to. There is no law now to adhere to. I think I have fallen in love.

We have been walking everywhere for the past few days without exception, and our trip to the mall would change that. We had discovered a golf cart the custodians and security undoubtedly used for patrolling the place and for carrying garbage bins. I would later commandeer it that night so I could visit the cemetery and mortuary. I wanted to see a human form, dead or alive, and dammit, I would see them. When I stepped in, all the bodies looked identical in condition: Normal looking, and you couldn't tell they were dead if not for the tags on their toes. Then I would cut them open to find the insides in perfect condition... until I split the heads open to find the brain charred. Yet each body still had hair on its scalp, so they hadn't been given the chair. I would share this discovery with the others, and they wouldn't look at me the same way again. Whatever liking they had for me evaporated, and they would avoid me if they could.

They went out to find a sender of a YouTube message before the web went out for good, and they found him and one other. A frantic, then catatonic mare who can't seem to remember her own name, and an insect horse who reads emotions and feeds on them. The latter rubbed me the wrong way at first, but I quickly deemed him as cool.

We had since not discovered another person, but we found a half famished dog. Joanna. Also, a weird chopper appeared in the early morning sky without explanation, and a logo was on it. I couldn't catch it, though. Anthony told me something didn't feel right about it, and it made him physically queasy. I didn't feel the same. Oh well. I believe Alex and Anthony about the ability to feel and see raw energy, but skeptical about this phobia of theirs.

I think I had better go to bed now. I'm getting tired.