The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

We were too late. Sax wasn’t at the cafe where we left him. All we found was an ominous lack of answers.

We arrived this morning and spent the day scouring the area. There was no sign of him, nothing at all.

The cafe was exactly as we left it, apart from the empty couch where he had spent his last hours with us. The blanket that we covered him with was crumpled on the floor. Even the impressions of him was gone from the couch’s cushions.

Most of us were relieved, but Ben was on edge all day, and so was I. We can’t know if Sax is dead or not, if he’s a mindless killer or gone forever. Perhaps another group came along and tossed him out into the rain. Or he got up and left under his own steam. None of us want to see him dead or stumbling around like the Scott we saw a couple of nights ago, but we have to know. We have to know the truth.

 

When the rain came, we settled down in the cafe, huddling in the space between the empty couch and the leaking roof. Everyone is unsettled and quieter than usual, as if afraid to disturb the memory of him that lingers here. I wish we had chosen another place to bed down tonight. I don’t think I’ll get any sleep, and not just because Ben is tighter than a freshly-stretched drum.

I don’t know what to do next. We don’t have the supplies to linger around here and keep looking, and we don’t know where to look even if we did. Ben’s cough is worse and I think his temperature is up; he won’t let me near him today, so I can’t check.

I’d better see if I can talk to him. Hopefully tomorrow will have more answers in it.