I am down to 5 water bottles. I have a peach too, but am afraid to eat it, with the worry that they've laid eggs in it. I have nightmares about the time I was a kid and ate a peach to find a small centipede crawling around in the pit.
My brother has given up hope long ago. He has run to become a scientist in Antartica, where he swears it's too cold for the bed bugs to survive. I didn't even know he was qualified.
I am holed up in the living room, vacuum-sealed from the rest of the home. The transparent walls surrounding my sleeping area are military-grade impermeable plastic, 0.5 cm thick.
The bedroom is a warzone. The mattresses are all gone. So are the box springs. It was a necessary option, given how the suckers had set up base there. We had no choice. Today, we decided to get rid of the frames and headboards too. You just can't take the risk.
My brother promises me that his lab in Antarctica is developing a blowtorch that will turn the coldest piece of frozen wood to ashes within seconds. Normal furniture will take only fractions of a second. While I wait for the new weapons and the black ops reinforcements, I focus on survival and reconnaissance.
The cameras are encased in military-grade steel enclosures and hooked via military-grade fibre to the computers in my plastic bubble. Every now and then I see them move at night with the infra-red vision. They only come out at night, like the bloodsucking vampires they are. There are masses of them, and their numbers grow each day, breeding with horrifying efficiency. They are mustering an army, but for what purpose, I cannot tell. Will they make an assault on my living room bubble?
The neutral zone in between our two bases is smothered with vaseline. I have poured 10,000 litres of the stuff over every surface and crack I could find. It's horrible. I needed to open up a corporate account with Unilever to purchase the stuff in bulk. It arrives by the truckload each day. The drivers refuse to step inside my home. I make a mad dash to retrieve the latest shipment, knowing full well that the little devils could be mounting a counterattack while I was outside the home.
Every now and then, they actually manage to take down one of my cameras. Exactly how they're able to do it, I still cannot tell. During these times, I outfit myself with a suit arrayed with bright white LEDs to ward off the monsters, and go to fix the affected camera. During the day if possible. At night, the risk is too great.
Water. How will I get water. I need to order more supplies soon, but war is expensive. The city refuses to open up the taps to allow me to access the public water supply, fearful of the case that my home will contaminate the city with these horrible creatures. I am cut off from civilization in all ways that I should not expect for normal society. I consider myself lucky that corporations are willing to profit from my suffering to deliver me vaseline, bottled water, and nonperishable food. But what's taking so long. I ordered my last food shipment a week ago. I may be forced to make drastic decisions.
What if they ever pierce my bubble? The thought pains me. If I ever lost my last bastion of defense, I would lose the will to fight. My only hope is to wait for the ultimate blowtorch. And then these suckers will know the meaning of pain. Oh yes they will. They shall know pain. Because it will be payback time. Because then... it's all offense, baby. No more of this turtling up in a hole crap.