Free Diary of the Displaced by Glynn James Page A

hole.
    Doesn’t sound strange does it? Nope. But this hole is in mid air. It’s not in the rock or the ground. It’s about three feet off of it. Just… sitting there? Holes don’t sit do they? Hanging there even.
    Well it’s there anyway, and once the water finally stopped coming out of it a beam of bright light lit up the pool. The light was coming out of the hole. Even stranger… It could only be seen from one side. When I walked around to the other side there was nothing, only the light, but from the front, I could clearly see a hole.
    I went back to the hut and fetched a thin piece of wood, and then went back to the hole and stood gobsmacked as I poked the stick through it. Sure enough it went into the hole and didn’t appear on the other side. Fortunately it didn’t devour the stick as I pulled it back out again. If it had done that I think I might have run screaming and hidden back in the shack.
    “Strange aren’t they?”
    It was Rudy. He was standing a few feet away.
    “What the hell is it?”
    He shrugged.
    “Well, a hole, I guess. I’ve never been able to figure out what they are. Only that they appear for a short time after the storms and gradually disappear.”
    “Weird as hell.”
    (Laughter)
    “Yes. Very much so. Adler used to turn into a nervous mess when those things appeared. He swore that he came here through one of them.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yes. I’m not calling him a liar, but I’ve never seen one big enough to fit a man through.”
    We talked as we walked back up to the shack.
    “How did you get here, Rudy?”
    He was quiet for what seemed a long time before speaking again.
    “I’m not entirely certain, but I know that I had been assaulted. Back in the old world, in the area that I lived, there was a gang of what is best described as rich thugs, high earners in the city, some people said, that had a hobby of going into the slums and making sport on those who could do little to defend themselves. They did some quite awful things. I was quite used to avoiding them usually. They’d turn up every now and then in the middle of the night in their fancy cars. They would grab someone and take them somewhere out of the way and… Well you can imagine the rest. One night I was asleep and didn’t hear them coming.”
    We arrived back at the shack and sat down on the rocks outside. Rudy continued.
    “The whole experience is hazy, but I do remember something interrupting them, something terrible. I remember being picked up by people who I couldn’t see. They were different people and not the gang. I was stunned or concussed I think. They took me. I woke up in the ruins across the swamp. That’s about all I can remember.”
    “They didn’t tell you where you were?”
    “They weren’t there when I awoke.”
    “But the zombies? You said they are all over the ruins.”
    “Yes. They are now. They weren’t so much back then. At least I don’t remember seeing any. I eventually found this place after being scared out of my wits by the gargants.”
    Rudy was quiet for most of the evening. I settled into one of the chairs in the shack and read bits of some of the magazines and books.
    Day 22
    DogThing was back. I didn’t spot him immediately. He was sitting on the top of a rock across the river, watching me.
    This time he wasn’t alone.
    I was too pleased at seeing him again that it took me a while to even notice the others. It was only when one of them stood up, stretched, and then sat back down, that I saw them. They were huddled together under a rocky outcropping about half way up towards the plateau, four of them, watching me.
    “You seem to have gathered more followers.”
    Rudy was standing in the doorway to the shack.
    “You think they are safe?”
    “Yes. Look there is something I need to tell you about. I’m guessing that you are planning to head out again soon.”
    I thought about it. It hadn’t occurred to me since arriving at the shack but I couldn’t stay there forever.