Splotchy's story meme

This is a new one: Madame X tagged me for Splotchy's Story Meme. Each tagged person needs to add to the story and then tag others, while linking back to all the previous contributions.

Here's the story so far:

I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)

I was used to the house being quite cold in the mornings, as the night log usually burns out around one AM when I am dreaming cozily under my covers, not normally waking to put a new one on until morning. I was surprised because on the rare occasions that it actually had reached sub-freezing temperatures in the house, I had awakened in the night to restart the fire. I would have been worried about the pipes before P-Day, but there hadn’t been running water in two years and that was one of the few advantages to being dependent on rainwater, no pipes. (Freida Bee)

The nightmares began during the following spring. The apple trees came to life in my dreams. At first the trees spoke and I thought they were amusing. That changed when the messages arrived. Lately, their anger was directed at me. (mathman6293)

I turned and stared out the kitchen window, past the frosty-lidded cistern to the orchard beyond. My trees, my beautiful fruit trees, stood leafless and dark. I wished with all my heart that this was just a normal winter thing, but it wasn’t.

"Why are you blaming me, guys? You know I love you. You watched me go out and vote that last time, in the ice-storm. It’s not like I didn’t try!”

I turned with a sigh and went to the phone to give Zaius a call. Perhaps The Good Doctor had made some incremental progress on his Long-Shot-Theory. (TCR)

Unfortunately, the phone was dead. Not from the inclement frigid weather, but because I didn't pay the phone bill and my service was shut off. "Oh well, I'll use the cell phone," I said aloud to no one but myself. As fate would have it, the cell phone battery was completely drained. I never even heard the thing chirping during the night to remind me to charge it. Being somewhat annoyed by all this, I went back to the kitchen, grabbed an ice pick and began chipping away at the rock-solid apple sauce when suddenly there was a very loud knock on my door which startled me. (kona)

In my surprise, I dropped the applesauce; no one but me had been on the property since Cordelia had died, not even Zaius. The frozen jar smashed into my big toe, which was inadequately protected by a worn green handknit slipper, one of Cordelia’s last gifts to me. Blood gushed from the crushed digit as the knocking escalated into insistent pounding. I moved from room to room in a frenzy, limping yet rushing, knocking over stacks of books and papers, blood documenting my every move. Where were my glasses? I had to have my glasses to see out the peephole. It hadn’t been prudent to fling open a door in welcome since the Winter Cleansings of 2018, just after the internet was shut down. Where did I put them? Just as I spotted the spectacles beside the fireplace, the pounding stopped, replaced by a most inhuman howl. (Bitty)

The piercing, anguished cry made me shiver even more than the cold. "What do you want?" I cried, slumped against the drafty door frame, trying to see through the peephole with my scratched spectacles. In the old days, I would have suspected it was the bill collectors, up to their tricks. P-Day, the Emergency Measures Act, the power shortages, the collapse of the internet and transportation networks-- all these things had made it almost impossible to convey debts and payments in the usual ways. At first, those who controlled the remaining services hired roving bands of thugs to try to collect money owed. If a direct request to open the door didn't work, a ruse involving an injured animal was considered fair game. Soon, no homesteader would open the door for anyone, even if their own children were supposedly dying on the front steps. Tiring of the game, the gangs of ruffians moved on to other pursuits, and like all my neighbors, I stopped bothering to pay for phone service, heat, electricity and water. It wasn't long before everyone was used to living without them most of the time... except for Zaius, whose experiments had reached a critical stage. (Madame X)

You knowwwwww what I wannnnnnnnt. . . a deep voice boomed back at me. I quaked in fear. This was no ordinary debt collector; on the contrary, it was Zoltar Thunder Guns, a mercenary who knew no boundaries when collecting a debt for his employer. Unlike the thugs sent by old-time loan sharks to break the legs of debtors, Zoltar Thunder Guns used the infamous weapons for which he was known to drive his victims across the boundaries of sanity, never to return. Victims of Zoltar's vicious assaults wandered the streets, raving and shouting at the sky. I knew that Zaius had had dealings with Zoltar's employer in the past, and in his effort to track the mighty Zaius down, Zoltar had come to me.

Who wants to play? I'm picking on Escape Brooklyn, Mrs. Micah, and Mapgirl.