Mags looked at the old man with a tiredness that belied the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She hadn’t been getting enough sleep.
There was so much to do.
There was always too much to do.
She had to stay on top of the details.
They couldn’t afford to lose any more people to this chaotic world.
How had she been thrust into the leadership role of this small and broken tribe? She didn’t know if she was up to the task, but she would keep working to make something out of this and out of them.
If humans were to survive and move forward, it would take groups of people working collaboratively. She thought that, just maybe, this group could be the start of something good.
She wasn’t going to let that die on her watch.
...
Hello my survivor friends.
Had some interesting irony this week. I started reading ‘The Stand’ by Steven King. I’m 2 weeks and 700+ pages in. It’s a big book and takes a long time to build. I’ll have more thoughts on it when I’m finished.
If I ever finish.
The ironic part is that I picked up a cold over Christmas from my 87-year-old Mom. Which is ironic in itself because we’ve been trying so hard to protect her from the actual pandemic and she turns around and gives us all a bad cold.
I was hoping to get a lot done in my week off – and that statement right there tells you a lot about me and my neuroses – but I was sick and spent a lot of time reading and resting, which was good timing to tackle the oversized tome that is The Stand.
Here’s the ironic part; I’m lying in bed reading about all these characters who think they only have a cold actually having a superflu that wipes out humanity. At the same time I’m writing a story about a pandemic apocalypse where everyone dies from a virus and listening to the news about a raging pandemic.
Talk about meta! I’m a character with a sore throat and a runny nose during a global pandemic, reading about a global pandemic apocalypse and writing about a global pandemic apocalypse.
That was my week.
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