Remedy Z: Solo Read Online Free PDF

was in the clear and safe. My efforts yielded a sense of security and I relaxed, as much as one could as I wavered with hunger. 
    My mind raced to try and comprehend what had happened. But natural instincts, those needed to survive, kicked-in and my head was righted once more. Back to basics: I desperately needed to eat. I knew that, only after a meal, could I manage to clean and carve my deer and clean-up that mess outside, in that order.
    With the physical exertions of the day and the prior three days of hunting, I was pushing my luck. The feeling was there that if I hadn’t eaten quickly, I could really suffer or be compromised. Feeling faint and having a hazy head, there was no doubt as to what was needed. Water, a meal of protein and some fresh food would cure my ills. I would manage all those other things later.
    I wearily entered the entry room which I called the “airlock” or "mud-room" of my cabin. Boots were pulled-off, jacket hung and pack slung off my weary back. The rifle and other kit were leaned against the wall. Fumbling on a side-table, I opened a muesli bar and ate it like it was the world's greatest delicacy. It wasn't the solution but it got me out of a hole. A water bottle was retrieved from the pack and the taste; cool, fresh mountain rainwater was heaven. Human again, human enough to prepare the meal I needed.
    The “inside shoes” were put on. They were so comfortable and were really some slippers with a tactical tread on them. I found these funny as, when they were likely made, they would have been for someone that was a bit on the paranoid side. I can just imagine the television or Internet ad that would have offered “Home comforts tempered with tactical readiness, just in case the neighbourhood hoodlums think you aren’t ready for an urban pursuit.” (Phrase said with deep, forthright, American voice). What was even funnier is that I had, on one occasion, a need to rely on these tactical slippers when some junkie scavengers had scoped out my home-come-hideout in zombie infested Canberra. They tried to steal a bicycle from out the front of my house and I came out running and wielding a machete. These young guys weren’t fully gone yet (had not succumbed to Divine) and they must have crapped themselves. They literally couldn’t believe some dude had run out of his house in a pair of pyjamas and slippers and managed to run down the runner and the guy on the bike as well. This scenario, as always, made me crack a smile and shake my head. If only I could share it with someone else, it may create some much-needed laughter in this crazy world. It was amazing where the mind would wander when you needed to divert your thoughts and grab a quick laugh to lift your spirits.     
    Home, just being there, made me feel better. My home was well-lit and sunny in its design and aspect. It brightened the soul, too. The light cloud had cleared and the drizzle had gone. It had turned into the perfect day for a walk, a coffee and good company. That world was just a dream as I walked down the hallway past my bedroom and into the bathroom. A place of cleansing, the bathroom was where I could do the minimum so I could eat urgently. I could take a nice bath later.
    I plunged my hands into the basin of water and used a very well-loved nailbrush to scrub the filth and blood from my hands and forearms. I used Frankensoap as well; an affectionately named conglomerate of all of my previously used soaps rolled into one. I was down to this, my last soap and would have to go and scavenge for this and other items on my shopping list. It was an unwelcome reminder that I would have to venture out further than the bush around my home. I knew it would have to happen and the maximiser in me concluded that I should compile a definitive list of all the items I needed to claim some civilisation and order.
    “That little brush could be replaced too,” I thought as I considered whether it actually cleaned nails or made them