Apocalypse Soonish

Read previous entries:
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3

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Day 4

Dear Journal,

I explored my cell last night in the brief time before sleep overcame my exhausted body and found no possible means of escape except by the window many feet above my head. The walls of the cell are completely sheer and impossible to climb, however.

I was glad to find my “goods” intact, still hidden, and am bringing them with me now to the Pearl River in hopes of learning more from Friend — the only human brave enough to speak with me in full English.

I am working next to Friend now and have shown her my odd wares. She (or he, I’m still not sure) opens a hidden pocket in her tattered rags and shows me her own collection — a powerbank, a small hunting knife, and a toothbrush.

All of a sudden, I have an idea —

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“It looks like you could use a new t-shirt, Friend,” I say. “I’ll give you mine for that powerbank.”

“I guess mine has become a bit ratty. Sure.”

We surreptitiously trade our goods, sure to avoid the ever-watchful gaze of the Wi-Fi security cameras.

“And that knife. How about I give you this beer koozy?“”

“Are you crazy? Who would want that?“”

“Umm … How about this badge with a ‘V’ on it?” I ask, worried that my plan may fail at this last crucial moment.

“Really?? They don’t make those anymore! Done.”

We slide these across to each other. Friend holds my hand for a brief moment — the only human touch I have experienced in this blasted place.

“Thank you,” Friend says, and squeezes. We look into each other’s eyes for one brief moment, lean towards each other, and —

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The speaker docks blare.

You got the orb in the tub. Now put in the big tub.

And off we go, dumping our oysters and pearls in the big tub and handing our shucking knives to the guardsape. Except I don’t give him my shucking knife. Instead I give him the hunting knife I purloined from Friend. Will he notice the difference in his sweaty simian palm –

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He does not! My plan is ready to be set in motion, Journal.

I am now locked back in my cell. I plug my USB lamp into Friend’s powerbank. Now I can see the walls reaching up into darkness, and to the window that is my only hope for freedom.

I inspect the walls and see, as I suspected, that they are made of stones expertly laid together with hardly a space between them. No instrument could fit between these stones except … an oyster-shucking knife!

I wedge mine into the wall triumphantly and begin my laborious task: Pulling stones out from their fittings one by one and crafting a kind of spiral staircase up the circular cell walls.

At last I reach the grated window, dear Journal, but realize with horror that —