Notes from the Future: Veronica's Journal

June 24

Late. After midnight.

They took my phone and I don't have a watch. 

I don't know where Tad is, and I'm pretty freaked out. When he passed out after puking all over himself and the car, I was about ready to let that creepy Prophet guy bite off my pinkie, then get Max, turn the car around and coast down the other side of this mountain. Or hill. What is the difference? That's a question I would ask Tad. He would know the answer. He seems to know everything, but that's bullshit. He wants to know everything. Sometimes I think he wants other people to believe he knows everything. I would be happy to listen to him expound on the nature of mountains and then get sidetracked with a four-hour story about the John Muir Trail and this one spot where this amazing thing happened.  He's so full of himself. I love him and he is the biggest pain in the ass. Ever.

If there was ever a time that I would need him in pure Tad form, it would be now. He thrives on disasters. He lives for this shit. Why is he injured? He's supposed to be getting us through this. He has a plan mapped out for the Zompocalypse. He may have even had a plan mapped out for this earthquake. I ignored it. So I guess this is pretty much all my fault. I did not want to just leave without knowing where my family and the rest of his family are.  If we had left when he wanted to and taken the weird-ass route stuck to the lemon tree, we would be asleep in a bed at the cabin by now. Man, I really fucked this up. 

I just said that aloud and Max, whose head is in my lap, looked up at me, very serious, then put his head back in my lap and sighed. A deep dog sigh. I swear he understands me and agrees. I cried a little, earlier. Maybe I cried a lot. Max came and sat next to me and snuggled up to me. I love this stinky dog.

Watching those two people drive Tad up here in our car was weird. Max and I were escorted here by a contingent of Mean Greenies. They were very nice. Goosebumps-on-your-soul nice. I may have cried on that walk up, and one of the ladies put her hand on my arm. It was comforting, until she started to sing about the Light of Green. It went something like this:

Oh the Light of Green

It says Go and Grow

Oh the Light of Green

It's a row to hoe ...

Then some stuff about the Prophet and his word and the tron-a-lons and something, but I was concentrating on not falling down. I felt really weak until they brought me some food. Tad and I haven't eaten for hours. Hadn't. I asked if they fed him, nobody would say.

This is a very nice house, everyone is nice here, but they all have the same names. The women are Rachel and the men are Ezekiel. I tried to introduce myself but they very politely cut me off. It's like the time I offered a shot of Tequila to one of Kayleigh's Mormon friends. They make me feel that I have betrayed them -- but more myself -- by saying my name is Veronica.

Max and I are in a small room, carpeted, with a small cot. It feels like it may have been a walk-in closet at one time, but now it's just very cozy. I actually wouldn't mind staying here in this room for a while, it makes me feel safe, except I feel like I need to stay awake in case they sneak in while I'm sleeping to put brain-control bugs in my ear.