Day 12

It's been 12 days since it started. I don't know why I'm writing this, maybe in the hope it's not the end of the world, maybe in the hope it's not the end of my own life, maybe in the hope the cockroaches will read it in a thousand years and know what happened to us. They'll probably already know though.

Nobody know why it started. No terrorist groups have claimed responsibilty, there has been no disease like it in history, man or animal. The most, and it isn't very, logical explanation is that this is the apocalypse and the final horseman has arrived. Some say it's not fair, we didn't have any warning, we didn't have evil, war and famine. Others say we've known them for decades, gazing fondly on them every day, fondly as comforting friend, eating a take away pad thai (that's television cockroaches.. remember them, I know you used to like the warm insides of mine..).

It doesn't really matter any more, we're here now. It's surprisingly real. I always imagined what it would be like, to live a catastrophe. It was always surreal in my mind. But it feels like life now, except the rules have changed. A lot. It's hard to adjust, it's been less than two weeks. I could walk outside, take a car, drive it off the Harbour bridge. Find another one, do it again. I could go down to Rushcutter's bay, find a really expensive car, and do it one more time. Nobody would care. But it's probably too dangerous. Not driving the car.

We haven't left the house for 12 days. Furniture, wood, anything we could use, has been used to board up the windows and doors. I don't think we've needed it yet, but it's only a matter of time. Even the bad people seem to be having trouble adjusting, or maybe they're driving cars off bridges.

Or maybe they're scared too. The disease strikes quickly, maybe they're treasuring they're last minutes of life, maybe they all killed each other, maybe they're praying. Maybe I should be praying instead of writing. I don't feel like it'll do much good. Maybe I should be praying for it to take me quickly.

It started in London. Well that was the first recorded case, it was either the most public first case or it was the first case and was proof it was deliberately started. It was right in the middle of Kings Cross station at 5:47pm on Monday the 17th of November 2013. Right in the middle of rush hour. It didn't matter though, within hours there were cases being reported globally, Japan, Canada, Hawaii, even Alaska. From little information we got before the world shut down, it is airborne, incubation is completely random, anywhere from around 3 hours to 12 days, but it's unknown how much of that time the person is contagious. Some people seem to be immune, nobody know why. A person who has the disease has no warning or indication. The live their life as normal (or as completely abnormal after the first even) then they start to feel hot. Within half an hour almost all the water in their body has evaporated. Like a spontaneous combustion of contagious toxic steam, leaving a brittle dry grinning human jerky shell.

We've been packing. We have to move soon. I think there must have to be a calm in the storm, when only the immune are left, but before they can get organised into gang or packs or tribes or brigands or pirates or whatever they will be called. They'll stake out bridges and roads and prey on all who leave the cities. Other's will prey on those that stay. We have to try to make it home. It's the only place I can think that will be safe. The old hippies who saved seeds for the end of the world will be laughing on their mountain of dry rustling treasure, like Smaug, without the fire breath. If they're not dead. If they didn't tell too many people they have hoards of life keeping seeds. Maybe we should look for seeds before we leave the city. Others will have thought of it, but maybe not. I'll add it to the list. I can't believe I have a shopping list for the end of the world. My shopping list is stupid. I can't leave anything. It's suddenly all valuable. I'm taking DVDs, Laptops, iPhones, clothes, blankets, the garden hose, soap, knives, pots and pans, computer games. All the stupid things I would leave behind on a normal trip. I want to take my books, but they're too heavy. We'll find a way to make electricity again, the hippies have solar and generators. I think I'll be able to trade, I'll probably just leave them on the road though. I'm gambling on the end of the world being boring… maybe I'm stupid, maybe a glimpse of the old world will be valuable to people.

I think tomorrow is the day. We'll leave early in the morning, I feel like bad people don't like waking up early. I don't like waking up early. Maybe I'm bad, maybe all the good people were taken away, leaving the bad people for judgment. We'll drive as far as we can. If the car is still there, if there is petrol in it. I hope we have enough to make it. Maybe we can syphon some on the way.. if we don't get killed.

We should see if our friends and family are alive. I don't know if it will be too dangerous. I can't stand the thought of leaving anyone behind, but I can't stand the thought of dying either, ambushed on the way to picking up our already desiccated friends. I think we'll have to decide tomorrow. I wonder if my brother is alive. There were theories immunity was hereditary. Well that's one advantage of being in the land of short people. In the land of the midgets the long neck man is king. I hope he is.

Will we take the dogs? It seems stupid, they just eat food that we could be eating. They might make noise when we're hiding from an ambush. I can't leave them behind. I'm still a stupid, city slicker. I haven't got post-apocalyptic nerve yet. Mad Max wouldn't take the dogs, unless he was going to eat them. Or did he have a dog? Guess I'll never know. Wikipedia is still out there somewhere.. it's just sitting quietly in some abandoned data centre, probably still whirring away with backup generators, maybe contemplating why it's so quite, wondering why it fell out of fashion. Or plotting the end of the world, Terminator style, not knowing we're already fucked. Maybe the T1000 will go back in time to kill the person who started the virus so they can take over the world properly. Well better plot quickly little computer, those generators will run out soon.

Tomorrow we move. Maybe tomorrow night we'll be home, or dead. I hope you, my friends and family, are reading this as we sit together by the fire, tomorrow night or the next night, or any night. I'll trade anyone 10 things I hate about you, Legally Blonde and 5 others of your choosing for Mad Max. Guess it's an educational video now.