Another Note from the Future

{Whoever is writing these, fuck off. Stay out of my blog. I will admit, when I first saw this today I thought maybe I was sleep-blogging or something. I even called Veronica at work to ask about that possibility. She says she knows I was in bed because I was snoring and farting all night long. So, yes: you had me freaked out about brain clouds or something equally fictitious, but now I'm just pissed off. And, though I hate to admit it: intrigued. Which is why I can't bring myself to delete this.

Today, I am going to another computer, elsewhere, to change my password. Again. Keylogging motherfuckers.

Read on and see why I seethe in my desire to know who wrote this:}

[From a handwritten journal entry made some days after the quake.]

June 18

8 am

Email yesterday from C. 

Very upset. 

Wanted to know why I didn't warn him. 

No idea what he's talking about. 

He walked over here -- from San Ramon, about 15 miles -- to talk to me about it today. Said he had business in Livermore anyway, but he didn't arrive until around sunset. Asked me again why I chose not to warn him, kept laughing these hard, barking laughs and saying, "Sure, man, you didn't know. Sure you didn't know. But you could have sent me a clue. Maybe in a script or something. Send ol' C. a clue so he doesn't let his wife and child go for a hike the day of." He wouldn't stay for dinner. Guess he doesn't like Quail Egg in Brine.

Talked to B. about it; apparently they were hiking somewhere unstable. That's all he knows. Can't shed any light on why C. thinks I knew this was going to happen. Thought he was going to hit me, C. not B.

June 19
2pm
Trying to find a way to meet the family at the cabin. Altamont Pass closed due to landslides and roadway collapse; old road closed. Patterson Pass may be open, no clear reports. Corral Hollow road blocked by Military. Mines Road maybe. Or Vasco North to 4? Electricity out, incredibly hot today. Mom is convinced we'll all meet at the cabin. I asked her what route and she ranted about Dad trying to tell her it's impossible. She has "charged me with the task" of finding a route. My phone is low on minutes and I didn't really have the heart to explain to her that the power is out and I can't get online to buy more minutes. There's some noise outside.

June 21
9 am
Massive fishkill in the bay. Nitrogen bloom. Everyone at sea level near bay died last night. KQED says Chevron denies responsibility.
No response to phone calls: Mom, Dad, anyone. All of them live on that side of the hills. 
My phone rang at about two am today; random 925 number. Payphone, maybe? No name. They didn't speak. Just laughed and breathed. Sounded like they (he? sounded male) had been running. Maybe C.? He doesn't return my e-mails, all electronic correspondence spotty at best since tsunami inundated all of Silicon Valley.
Noise outside on the 19th was disturbance with neighbors who demanded my camera. I don't own a camera. They were shouting at V. through the gate, telling her they saw me down by the railroad tracks, filming them with my camera. This is some crazy shit. I didn't film anyone. I'd been in here drinking cold coffee, looking at an out-of-date California road atlas.
When I came outside they were shocked; they said I look fat, the lady from the Historical Society said I didn't have my beard. Like an accusation: "You didn't have your beard." The lady from across the street said, "Yes he did, it was just much longer and more white. Like a homeless wizard or something." They went away but Larry stayed because he wanted to talk to us. We invited him in and he produced three joints of excellent quality. I stopped smoking pot years ago but right about now it's nice to be stoned. I took a couple hits and saved mine. I'm staring at it now, debating.
Anyway, Larry didn't see the person they were talking about down by the tracks. He followed them when he heard them shouting about me, "I was prepared to be the voice of reason," he said. I believe he was. Larry's got our back.
Still don't know where neighbor/owners of this house are; Max usually wants to go in the dog run and sniff around for their dogs, but ever since the quake he won't go near it. I hope they are okay. 
Larry said something else weird: "LouAnne said she's seen you that way before. She said she's thought for a long time that you had a skinny brother. Or a fat brother. Or a glandular fluctuation. I said, 'LouAnne, he's always right about the same -- right there in the middle between physically fit and ... maaaaaybe should take more walks.' But LouAnne swears that you always come from the tracks when she sees you that way. If you understand what I'm saying."
Weird.

June 22
11 am
Veronica's birthday. No response from calls to Hayward, Oakland. No clear information from news. Chevron blames designers of bridge, claims collapse broke pipeline.
KQED broke story of C&H Sugar Factory: entire sugar plant washed out into Bay, along with sewage from every city in the region. Sugar + Sewage = nitrogen, or at least so goes the theory. I know that sugar + urea = nitrogen, but there may be something in the accusation.
Veronica won't let me hike to Hayward to search. Roads still broken, progress slow. Pleasanton still lake of fire. Horrible smell from burning wastewater plant near 580.
I have nothing to give her for her birthday. I wanted to be heroic and help her escape. I feel trapped by uncertain circumstance: stay and fight off looters or leave and risk destruction of home?
I have decided that her birthday present will be a full-body massage; if it's not too hot.

June 23
3 am
Someone is outside. Was outside. I heard something, got up. Electricity's off again, no lights. There was someone out near the lemon tree. Watching the house. Just watching. Looked familiar, even though I couldn't see more than a vague shape. Think it was a man. Stared so long I thought I was imagining him, then he shifted. Maybe LouAnne and paranoid neighbors are getting to me, I thought it was me for a minute. Thought maybe I had something to tell myself, maybe I shouldn't be afraid, I should light the lantern and go out there. That skeeved me out and I kind of froze. 
Lights just came on; security lights show nobody there. I don't like those lights when they just come on. Even though I'm inside, I feel naked, exposed. Like I'm drawing attention to myself.

7 am
There's a note stuck to a thorn on the lemon tree.
It says, "North Mines, Del Puerto Canyon, Sperry, Las Palmas, 99, 120, Jack Tone, East Mariposa, Gawne, Escalon, Carter, 26 Mile, East Sonora, Milton, 4"
There's something written on the back, I hesitate to touch the note for some reason. Veronica does not. She's reading it, wants to show it to me.
It says, "Go now."