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April 25, 2014
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The Apocalypse Part 2

We had to move out of our last camp. Rebels. Sometimes, I think the humans in this world are far worse than the zombies. And then, someone changes my mind.

In the frenzy to get out fast, I lost some supplies. The elderly gentleman whose name I did not know at the time did something remarkable. When my backpack spilled as we fled in the middle of the night, he scooped up as much as he could before we squeezed through a crack in a wall and onto a back road. Though we were separated, most of us made it to the abandoned RV park ten miles through the woods. I'm sitting by the fire assessing. Where I once had perhaps 2 years of supplies, I've now got a year at best.

Albert, that man who amazed me with simple assistance, is sitting by my side. At eighty two, he and his wife Fran made hearty traveling companions on the long walk here. They did not complain, even though it was freezing. We were fortunate to have been bundled and dressed for bed when the raid happened. Maybe 20 feral men, leading zombies on poles like those the animal control officer once used to keep vicious dogs at bay. We lost two that I saw go down under gnashing teeth. Fiona, the single mom and one of her little ones are missing. Who knows if they'll ever arrive.

"How much did you lose?" Albert asked.

"I don't know, half," I answer, "Half the insulin, maybe more than half of the testing supplies. I've still got a bunch of glucose tablet bottles, those were in an inner pocket. Hidden."

"I watch you sometimes," He responds, "See you sneaking those things, or giving a shot. My little brother had it. Before. You know. But we lost him at dinner that first night, when the things came to the city."

"I'm sorry," My eyes are welling up.

"I know," He says, "We're not gonna lose you, though."

On the walk through the woods, Albert and Fran hiked alongside me. About halfway through, one of them asked if we needed to stop, if I was alright. Was I sweating too much? I looked a little pale. I stopped and tested as quietly as possible at 41 mg/dl. I suggested we keep walking while I popped glucose tablets into my mouth. You don't really stop in this world. There is simply no sideline. On we went. Me, looking out for this salt of the earth New England couple. Them, looking out for me. Almost four hours later, we found ourselves at the RV park, where three of the group had already landed and cleared out. No walls, no fence, not really safe, but safer than the open woods - none of us would actually sleep tonight...

They stormed our camp. They murdered people. They used the now universally common enemy of all man against us. They didn't consider the children amongst us.

People are worse than those monsters, because their cruelty is chosen.

Then there's Albert and Fran. Restoring my faith. Because their kindness is chosen too.

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Megan Holmes
Megan Holmes Megan was diagnosed in 2009 with Type I. As an RN, she was familiar with the medical side of her diagnosis; learning to be a good patient on the other hand, was and continues to be the challenge of her day to day life.   (Read More)
Michelle Kowalski
Michelle Kowalski Michelle Kowalski, a writer, editor and photography hobbiest living in Phoenix, was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes in February 2005. In January 2008, as part of her quest to start on an insulin pump, Michelle learned that she actually has type 1 diabetes.   (Read More)
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