WALLS AND SEEDS, HEAVY RAINS, SOLAR PANELS

Day 80

The days had blurred together, a continuum of survival and adaptation. I stood in the midst of my property, the perimeter marked by the sturdy wooden walls I had painstakingly erected. The land stretched out before me, a canvas for my plans and hopes. It covered about 0.15 acres, a small sanctuary amidst the desolation.

I divided the space down the middle in my mind, envisioning one half as the living area, encompassing my fortified house, and the other half for farming. I had seeds, carefully preserved and ready to be sown. The choice was deliberate; I opted for crops that were relatively easy to grow in this new world. Tomatoes, chili peppers, garlic, and perhaps some Malabar spinach near the natural puddle that could serve as a small pond.

With the vision in my mind, I set to work. The soil was surprisingly fertile, a testament to nature's resilience. I dug furrows, carefully placing the seeds into the earth, a promise of sustenance in the future. The act of farming felt grounding, a connection to a simpler time before the world had changed.

While tending to my fledgling farm, I couldn't shake off the eerie silence that hung in the air. It was a reminder of the absence of human life, a void that no amount of fortification could fill. Despite the solitude, I found solace in the rhythm of my tasks, a routine that provided a semblance of normalcy in this abnormal world.

Day 85

Time moved swiftly, and I found myself nearing completion of the metal steel gate that would secure my sanctuary further. Scavenging had led me to a mall where, amidst the deserted shops, I stumbled upon welding equipment. It was a stroke of luck that I loaded onto a truck I had found, carefully maneuvering it back home.

Driving was a skill I had acquired out of necessity, albeit slowly. The truck had become my mobile base, allowing me to venture further than I could on foot. I learned that the creatures – zombies, mutated animals, and insects – tended to take cover when the sun blazed high overhead, affording me a relatively safe window for exploration.

Insects, too, had felt the impact of the mysterious phenomenon that had befallen the world. Flies the size of softballs buzzed in the air, a stark reminder of the unnatural changes that had occurred. Bees and wasps had grown larger, their presence a constant threat.

As I drove, I took precautions, keeping the windows of the truck rolled up. The silence within the vehicle was broken only by the hum of the engine and my thoughts. Music, once a source of comfort, had become a luxury I couldn't afford. Safety was my top priority, even if it meant sacrificing small pleasures.

During one of my explorations, I stumbled upon an armory in the mall, an unexpected treasure trove of firearms and ammunition. M200 revolvers with six-round cylinders, boxes of .38 Special cartridges, M30FS shotguns, and plenty of 12-gauge shells greeted me. It was evident that these weapons once belonged to security guards, possibly former police or military personnel. A feeling of indifference washed over me; I took the firearms, ammunition, and police-standard vests without a second thought. In this new world, the lines between morality and necessity had blurred.

Additionally, I found money and jewelry – items that had once held immense value but now served as a reminder of a past life. I pocketed them, realizing that in this transformed world, gold and jewels might become valuable trading commodities. Currency could lose its worth, but the allure of precious metals and gems remained.

The next task on my list was to return to the mall in a few days to empty out the banks and ATMs. It felt like a necessary evil, a means to secure resources for the future. The irony of looting banks in a world devoid of people didn't escape me, but practicality outweighed ethics in these trying times.

As I sat in the driver's seat of the truck, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, I realized that I had become a different person. The world had forced me to shed my innocence, replacing it with a steely resolve and a pragmatic approach to survival. In this harsh reality, I had learned to adapt, to make difficult choices, and to face the unknown with unwavering determination.

As I drove back home, the weight of the firearms and the knowledge of what I was about to do bore down on me. I clung to the hope that one day, the silence would be broken, that I wouldn't be the last human standing in this silent world.

Day 88

The world outside was a canvas of gray, shrouded in a torrential downpour that seemed to defy the very essence of nature. Raindrops hammered against the windows, a symphony of fury without the accompanying thunder and lightning. I stood by the window of my parents' house, watching as the rain lashed against the glass, blurring the outside world into a watery blur.

Usually, I would be out exploring, scavenging, or fortifying my sanctuary further, but today, nature had forced me to halt my plans. The rain fell relentlessly, drenching everything in its path. The thought of leaving the house in such weather was impractical, if not downright dangerous. Yet, there was a strange calmness in the midst of the storm, a lull in the chaotic rhythm of survival.

My parents' house, perched on the hill, stood resilient against the onslaught. I marveled at my luck once again; the elevation spared me from the threat of flooding. As the rain cascaded down the slopes, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude for the solid foundation that had become my sanctuary.

I attempted to break the silence that enveloped the house by turning on my portable radio, but all I received in response was static. I tried tuning into the familiar FM and AM bands, hoping to catch a signal, but the only sound that filled the room was the crackling of interference. Frustrated, I turned to the internet, only to be met with a glaring "Cannot Connect" message on my gaming rig. The outside world, it seemed, had fallen silent even in the digital realm.

With no distractions, my thoughts wandered, and I found myself longing for the simplicity of pre-apocalyptic days. There was a time when I would power up my PC and lose myself in the virtual worlds, battling monsters, exploring vast landscapes, and immersing myself in epic quests. But now, the gaming rig sat silent, a reminder of a hobby abandoned in the face of survival.

In this moment of introspection, I acknowledged the luxury I still possessed: electricity and running water. The rain had disrupted my plans, but it hadn't robbed me of these essential comforts. The idea of scrounging for clean water in the midst of a storm made me grimace in distaste. I had stored gallons of mineral and distilled water from the mall, but the gratitude for having a steady supply made me acutely aware of how fragile my situation was.

Driven by a sudden impulse, I decided to indulge in a rare moment of luxury amidst the storm. I filled up the bathtub, adding relaxing salts to the warm water, and lit scented candles that I had found during my scavenging expeditions. The bathroom, usually a utilitarian space, transformed into a sanctuary of relaxation.

As I sank into the warm embrace of the bath, I couldn't help but feel a sense of indulgence. It was an experience I had observed in others, particularly women, who seemed to relish these moments of self-pampering. The water enveloped me, washing away the grime and weariness of survival, providing a fleeting sense of normalcy in this abnormal world.

Yet, even as I indulged in this newfound luxury, I couldn't shake off the feeling that it wasn't meant for me. I was a man, accustomed to the rough and tumble of the outdoors, not the delicate pleasures of scented baths and relaxation rituals. It felt alien, a glimpse into a different world that I had never considered for myself.

I resolved that this would be a one-time experience, a deviation from my usual routine. The storm outside might have forced me into this moment of indulgence, but it wouldn't change who I was at my core. I emerged from the bath, the scent of candles clinging to my skin, feeling strangely rejuvenated yet oddly out of place.

As I dried off and dressed, the rain continued its relentless assault on the world outside. I retreated to the heart of my sanctuary, my thoughts a whirlwind of contemplation. The storm might have kept me indoors, but it couldn't quell the restlessness that stirred within me. I yearned for answers, for a connection to the world that had vanished, and for the solitude to be broken.

The raindrops drummed on the roof, a rhythmic reminder of the world's silence. I sat by the window, watching as nature unleashed its fury, pondering the mysteries of the quiet apocalypse that had befallen us. In the midst of the storm, I found myself seeking solace in the knowledge that even in this solitude, I wasn't truly alone. The world might have fallen silent, but I still had the beating of my own heart as a reminder that I was alive, navigating the uncharted waters of a new reality.

Day 93-95

The rain had finally begun to relent, transforming its furious torrent into a gentle drizzle that caressed the world. The earth, once parched and battered, now glistened with the remnants of the storm's tears. I watched as the raindrops clung to leaves and petals, shimmering like diamonds in the fading light of the day.

As the last droplets fell and the clouds began to part, revealing slivers of blue sky, I knew it was time to resume my plans. With the exterior of the house secured against the elements, I turned my attention inward. My next project was ambitious: installing solar panels on the entire roof of the house.

During my recent scavenging expeditions, I had come across a treasure trove of solar panels, storage batteries, emergency generators, and lights. The foresight of the past owners had provided me with the tools I needed to harness the power of the sun. It was an endeavor that required patience and precision, but the potential rewards were worth the effort.

I spent the next few days meticulously reinforcing the interior of the house. The walls, once sturdy, were now fortified further to accommodate the weight of the solar panels. I carefully calculated the angles and positions, ensuring maximum exposure to sunlight throughout the day. The task was daunting, but the memory of my days as a Boy Scout echoed in my mind: "Be prepared." It had become my mantra, a reminder that thorough planning was the key to survival.

By day 100, I stood back, wiping sweat from my brow, and admired my handiwork. The solar panels adorned the roof, their sleek surfaces glinting in the sunlight. The installation was a success, a testament to my determination and resourcefulness. With the solar panels in place, I was one step closer to self-sufficiency.

I decided to take a moment to rest, sinking into a lawn chair beneath the hot sun. I sipped on an ice-cold brew, relishing the refreshing taste as I surveyed the fruits of my labor. The crops I had planted earlier had sprouted, their vibrant green shoots reaching for the sky. It seemed that nature, too, was embracing the newfound sunlight, nurturing the growth of plants and flowers.

The speed at which the plants grew surprised me. It was as if they had absorbed the essence of the storm, channeling its energy into their rapid development. I marveled at the sight, realizing that in less than three months, I might have a bountiful harvest on my hands. The thought of fresh, homegrown produce brought a smile to my face, a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

As I lounged in the warmth of the sun, my thoughts turned to the oversized insects and animals that roamed the world outside. I wondered if the plants, too, had been affected by the mysterious phenomenon that had altered the creatures. Would they taste different, or would their essence remain unchanged?

A particular sight caught my attention – large bees buzzing overhead, their presence a promise of potential sweetness. The idea of honey, a natural delicacy, stirred my imagination. I envisioned a thriving beehive, a bustling community of giant bees producing copious amounts of honey.

The prospect of beekeeping excited me. It was a venture that held both practicality and pleasure. Honey could serve as a valuable food source, a natural sweetener, and a potential trade item. My mouth watered at the thought of collecting honeycombs, imagining the golden nectar dripping from the comb, ready to be savored.

With newfound enthusiasm, I made a mental note to scout the area for the beehive. It became a mission, a quest to harness the resources of this transformed world. I envisioned myself clad in protective gear, carefully tending to the bees, and reaping the rewards of my efforts.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. The world, once drenched in rain, now seemed to shimmer with the promise of new beginnings. I closed my eyes, basking in the fading sunlight, and let the vision of honey-filled days guide my thoughts.

In the silence of the evening, with the gentle hum of bees in my imagination, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The storm had passed, leaving behind a world ripe for exploration and discovery. As the day turned to night, I carried the dream of beekeeping with me, a beacon of hope in the quiet apocalypse.