Two weeks after the world ended, I was no longer having seizures. Being stuck at home became almost maddeningly claustrophobic—ironic, given how rarely I left the house before the apocalypse happened—but I was mostly encouraged by my progress. I never developed the jittery rage or any other psychological problems. Not any new ones, anyway. My brain was well stocked with neuroses to begin with. The muscle spasms and random contractions faded to bouts of tremors and shakes. The fevers subsided to mild hot flashes. I still didn’t want to put myself or anyone else at risk by being distracted at the wrong time, so instead I bent my back working on the many improvements Tony was laying out for the property. I was a little jealous that he and Jem were getting so much done. The once-empty field around my house was now stacked with tons upon tons of construction supplies. They had raided our local superstore for every tarp and other waterproof covering that could be found to keep the pallets of lumber from getting soaked.
What do You think about Apocalyptica (Book 3): Ran?
