The Beginning After The End

I do not have an upgraded membership, so I have to divide this story into static items. Also, I have to do two chapters to an entry, so I apologize if the entries are a little long.

March 26

Dear Journal. Dear Diary. Dear Useless Piece of Shit.

          I don't like you, and I don't like your purpose. But I will write in you, if not simply for the reason the others don't think I'm crazy. The first thing you need to understand, journal, is that I am not happy. I am alive, but I am not happy.
          It happened. Kaboom. The world as I knew it, gone. In an hour at that! In a 'who's cock is bigger' contest that started with the good ole' USA and China, world leaders decided to press the big red button. I was watching tv with my girl, live coverage at the White House. The reporter had gone silent, listening into her ear piece, then she had cried. The next words were simple: "Get to a shelter. First come first serve."
          'Finally!' I had thought, and if I remember right I actually giggled. Life was boring. Mankind had been on a downward spiral for so long, at least someone had finally done something about it. The nukes were coming and we were all going to die. Except for those who got to the shelters, theoretically. You know how many shelters were in my city? 10, maybe. And at tops they were designed for only around 12 people. That's 120 lives saved. Maybe. So as I sat there, giggling to myself, my girl started freaking out. She ran upstairs, packed a couple of suitcases, and told me to get off my ass, we'd never make it unless we left just then. That's when I really pissed her off. I said I wouldn't go.
          "Ryan!" she yelled. "Don't do this, not now!"
          "What? Why live when the rest of the world dies?" I asked, staying completely cool. I think this may have angered her further. So, long story short, I agreed to go with her. We would never make it there anyways.
          That's when things get hazy. Girl was driving like a maniac, going off the road and shit, trying to get the crappy ass shelter. "Bomb Shelter 37." I think she hit something, like a power line. I don't remember at that point. The last thing I remember after that is waking up here.
          It's dim. It's cold. It's full of other worthless fucks, and for some reason, somebody is always crying. Whether it's one of the damn kids, or one of the women. Hell, even this big guy with a beard was crying. I am honestly getting really annoyed. And you know what's funny, journal? My girl isn't here. What the fuck. No one said anything about her, either. They just say they grabbed me from outside before the door sealed.
          So you wanna know who I have to deal with, journal? Let me break it down for you. First we have Dr. William Jenkins. Not a useful, medical doctor, but a shrink. And this guy is textbook, let me tell you. Half rim glasses, balding, wears a sweater vest. He's the one who gave us these damn journals, and told us to write. "Expressing your feelings will help even you out," or some bullshit. He also suggested that once things get settled he wants to be our shrink. You know, we all take turns talking to him about our feeeeeelings. If you ask me, if anyone will go crazy here, it's gonna be him.
          Next up, 'Big John' Hill. Some fat ass boy scout leader. He acts as one would expect: too friendly, and too helpful. Hell, when I woke up, he wouldn't let me stand up without him putting his hand on my shoulder. Creeps me out. Right now he's gone to check out our food and water supplies.
          Colin Aldridge. He's a big guy, mid 20's I'd guess. I have to describe him though, it's weird. He's a scene guy, got himself a nice green mohawk, thick rimmed glasses. Wearing a t-shirt with some indie band on it. Yet he was crying earlier. And when he introduced himself, he was the most polite speaker I've ever heard, soft spoken and everything. Yet he probably weighs around 250, has got a fierce beard, and I wouldn't put it past him to eat the baby we've got here if he was hungry enough. Weird, huh?
          Ms. Jessica Brentwood. The good old single mother. Well, she's single now at least. Who knows if she had a hubby before. So far she's kept a baby on her hip, a small Hayden Brentwood (Probably still breast feeds) and her little girl's hand in her own. The little girl is cute, 5ish I think. Her name is Rachel. I think out of all of us, I feel the worst for her. She hasn't said much. She's been crying too much.
          Next up is our resident old coots, Vernon and Mary Crawford. They haven't separated since I woke up, and I doubt they ever will. They're what you'd expect from an old couple married thousands of years: Friendly. And in sync. I don't know, I think old people are useless. No offense.
          Lindsey. Lindsey Dering. Maybe spelled Daring, that would be cool. I've never seen her before, but she's around my age. Early 20's. Pretty girl, hasn't really said much. Doesn't seem like an airhead, though the blonde rule is in effect. She has to prove herself to be smart, and until then she shall be labeled as a ditz. Heh heh. I'm terrible, don't you think?
          Officer Park. Apparently has no first name, as he refused to say it. He is simply known as Officer Park. I don't even have to delve into this guy, he's big, he's a cop, he seems like a jerk. Odds are he'll try and be the leader at some point, and tell us all what to do. Can't wait till that day comes.
          Next one is another weird one. Victor Perez, I think he said. And that's all he said. Middle aged hispanic. He doesn't seem to speak English well, and I don't think anyone here speaks Spanish. So, he's been quiet, and so have we. He gives me a bad vibe though.
          Lastly, Jason Henderson. My favorite so far. A tall, skinny black guy. He's been quiet so far, but you can tell he's dying to blurt something out. He'll either snap, or be a good source of entertainment. You ever get that feeling, journal? That someone is just a fun person. I bet you get that feeling about me.
          Oh, and of course. Me. My name is Ryan. I'm 22, and skinny. Right now, I'm very pissy too. But wouldn't you be, if everything you knew was blown away? Every person, every item, wiped clean off the planet? I should have died out there. But no, I'm alive. Alive and trapped in a shelter with 12 other people, while the world around me burns. Hooray.
          Great, Big John is back. I'm done for now, journal. Enjoy your reprieve.

March 29

I return, journal! And have I got some news for you.

          Alright, this is hilarious! First of all, things have been tense around here. Apparently, the shelter was designed for ten people. We've got a whopping total of 13. We've got enough rooms and all, but our food is what is worrying people. Only two years worth if we ration it properly, according to Big John. So, bam, three days in and already some of it has gone missing! And where do the fingers point? To our resident black guy of course! The first words out of Jason's mouth are what really got me though. "Because I'm black, right?"
          Classic. Just classic. It got bad, though. Big John got in his face in the main room, they were screaming, kids were crying, it was rough. I think Big John's got some racist background too. He was trying to stay away from it, but it shined through a little. The two of them had been at it before, too. Big John was talking shit to Dr. Hill about how he thought Jason was spending too much time washing up, using more than his share of water. It got around like wildfire. Rumors spread like that, journal. I like to keep out of them.
          Whoa, you should hear them. I'm in my room right now, but I can hear everything. I was in the room with them, but I decided to make my exit. They were getting into it, and Ms. Brentwood told them to shut it. Bothering the baby and stuff. So, Colin went to go check on her. I figured I would follow. Got to the room, Colin went inside, and shut the door. He didn't need my help. So I decided to go to my room and tell you, dearest journal, all about the fun I'm having.
          So, current update, they're bringing up the shit about the water usage. Sounds like Officer Park joined the fight. Haha, this is great. He's trying to establish some sort of order between the two of them! Useless! You put all of us in a closed space, people are going to fight. Fingers are going to be pointed.
          Oh my, it sounds like it's over now. The last thing I heard? "I'll kill you, bitch! I'll fucking kill you!"
          To be honest, I'm not sure who said it. To think, all that fuss over a little food ration. I think I'll be done today, journal. I'll leave you be while I snack on the extra food that found it's way into my suitcase.