Day 112

That moron Kyle!

He came back over to the house last night and slept in the downstairs room with Miranda. He waited until everyone was asleep and then just made the decision to come in.

Miranda turned and bit him.

Well, it was barely a bite.

It was more of a nibble. She got off the tip of one of his fingers. Eugene said that, if we take off the rest of the finger, the infection wouldn’t spread.

So, now, he’s got nine fingers and no fiancé.

Linda put one of her 24 remaining bullets in Miranda’s head. Horace was afraid of how much noise we had made, so we made a late-night exodus out of the farmhouse and continued on our way north.

It’s all Kyle’s fault… 

Day 111

So, we had to make a quick getaway. Left my power-source at the hotel in the rush. I got the laptop out, but I only just found a replacement.

A lot has happened in these past days.

So, while I was writing my last entry, some explosions happened outside. I looked out the window. Three Hummers had driven up to the outside of the hotel and began firing heavy weapons into their ranks. Mowed down almost half of them in just a couple minutes.

The men were army, I’m sure of it. But, they made a critical mistake; they made too much noise. So much noise brought in more Zoms. They were soon overrun and a few thousand of those things swarmed all over the region and  burst into the hotel.

We had to cut our way out.

Kyle wanted to try and reach the army convoy and get their weapons, but it would have been suicide.

But, he wouldn’t give up.

He convinced Miranda to go for the weapons with him.

Long story short, she got bitten.

She’s still alive, but it won’t be long. Honestly, it’s a miracle that she has lived this long. Vlad wanted to put her out of her misery, but Kyle wouldn’t allow it.

After we left the hotel, we started towards the Gulf, like I wanted, but we didn’t get far. We ran into another hoard that forced us north.

So, Kyle got his wish and we made for Oklahoma.

We settled down in a small town again. There are fewer of those Zoms in small towns. Packed up on rations and spent the night in a country house. We found a rifle there that Jenny claimed she could use. Not sure how I feel about a sweet old lady blasting off Zombie heads, but I guess she wants to be useful.

Horace is making Miranda stay in a different house. She and Kyle are down the street. I hate to see her die. She’s been with us since the beginning, but she trusted Kyle too much and now she’s suffering for it.

Eugene says it’s just a matter of time.

He and Boris have taken to studying those things; trying to figure out what really makes them tick. He’s no doctor, but he’s absolutely the second-smartest person here… after Horace.

Horace doesn’t seem too concerned with studying them. He does seem to get a lot of joy out of killing them. It’s actually a little unnerving. He and Fiora will charge head-first into a group and just hack them to shreds while Homer spots them from far away.

These past days, I’ve really seen them use brilliant tactics to take care of difficult situations. There is one problem though.

Alfonso seems to be growing less and less concerned with the group dynamic. He and Vlad are going out of their way to kill those thigns now; like it’s some strange sport. They’ll see one in the distance and, rather than just let it pass, they will rush out and batter it until it’s nothing but a bloody stump.

It’s keeping them away from us, but it’s a dangerous tactic to use.

Frankly, I would rather stick with Horace’s group. They’re cautious and move slower, but you can’t deny how effective they are.

Since they joined, I haven’t had to use Ophelia very often.

Anyways, Linda is making us, what she calls, a “home cooked meal” tonight with Jenny’s help. Hopefully, it will help take our minds off the fact that Miranda’s hours are numbered. 

Day 95

So, I talked to Horace. He agreed we needed a better plan. We decided that making for the Gulf is the best option. Figure, we could find a boat so that we can float off the coast and actually be able to sleep well.

Now, we just have to sell the idea to the rest of the group. I get the sense that Homer and Fiora follow Horace pretty closely, so I don’t expect much resistance from them. Kyle is the real problem. He’s intent on going north. I hope he changes his mind. I don’t like him much, but he’s stayed alive this long, so he’s at least mildly valuable.

Plus, if he leaves, so does Miranda and, in all likelihood, Jenny. Three leaving our group would weaken us substantially.

Anyways, there are a lot of decisions to make asdfuiopgj qasfgh

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Day 94

It’s so hot. Hotels are not very comfortable at the end of the world. When there is no ventilation and everything is sweaty and dirty, a hotel is basically a prison.

Not to mention that a hoard has camped out in the yard outside. They got here not long after we did. Horace thinks that they are stragglers that happened to follow us from the town, but that was quite a ways for them to follow us. But, he’s the genius, after all.

We wanted to go back to their former city; the one that had the militia, but Horace said it was not an option. He told us the story. They were thriving with a settlement of over 200 people, half of which were in the militia. But, that much meat in one place couldn’t hold off the Zoms forever. Horace and his group (there used to be seven of them), were returning from a mission just in time to see the city fall.

That’s when they saw the looters. They started picking the city clean just hours after the hoard swept through. They chased them down and met us at the grocery store.

So, we decided to stay put for the time being. We found some more food, but our rations will only last us for another couple of weeks. We will need to move on before long.

Kyle says we should make for Oklahoma in the north. Says he had relatives there and knows a little bit of the landscape, but I’m not sure. Kyle is not really someone I would want to follow the instincts of. But, Miranda is always on his side (she seems to be a little bit of a doormat). Jenny likes Kyle, thinks he’s a sweet boy, so she’s on his side too.

Eugene has taken to a guardianship role with Boris and has not really paid much attention to the greater plans of the group.

Alfonso has all but checked out. He and Vlad spend most of the days together securing the entrances and making sure no stragglers get in. Vlad found a pair of machetes back in the grocery store and is wielding them like some mad dervish. Of course, he’s effective, so no use complaining about it.

Anyways, I’m going to go talk to Horace and try to come up with a destination. I would rather not be the leader of our group, but it’s either me or Kyle. 

Day 92

So, Horace, as I found out the next day, is a genius. A Masters in Ancient History, a Masters in Literature, a Masters in Engineering and a PhD in Anthropology; seriously, a heavy-hitter. And he’s freaking 29. Honestly, makes me feel like a huge failure in life.

Homer, the shooter, is an ex-sniper from the U.S. Marines, who just happened to have a high-powered, long-range sniper in his closet when the turn happened.

Fiora is a little dodgy about her past. Or maybe, they were just getting really tired of my inquiries (that’s just the reporter in me). I think she was a dancer or something, judging by her slender frame and graceful movements.

Plus, she’s freaking gorgeous.

Anyways, we’re glad to have some additions to our dwindling group. However, I can tell that Kyle is not thrilled that Horace has taken a de facto leadership role. Alfonso has become pretty quiet. He sticks with Vlad most of the time right now.

Anyways, tonight, we are going to figure out our next move.

In the meantime, Eugene and I are going to scout out the upper floors to see if any previous guests left anything useful. 

Day 90, Part 3

I heard a voice calling out, saying to step outside of the store, through the shattered window. I complied, making sure that the shotgun was in the air, but careful to keep my finger near the trigger-well. I saw the shooter after a moment of glancing down the street.

He was crouched behind an open car door, a long-nosed sniper pointed directly at me. But, he wasn’t alone. From behind a nearby building, a sturdy man, probably in his early 30s with a pistol on his side and a large machete in his hand. The other was a woman, younger; likely early 20s who was built like an Olympian and holding what looked like two knives welded to long, metal pipes.

He introduced himself as “Horace,” the shooter as “Homer,” and the woman as “Fiora” (I’m inclined to believe that those are NOT their real names). Fortunately for us, they had been hunting the looters, and finally caught up with them. They explained that they had been a part of an organized militia from a nearby city, but the militia had since fallen, scattering their forces to the countryside.

The others came out and introductions were made, but Horace’s group insisted that we get far away… fast. We picked up as much of the supplies that we could find and set off out of the town.

We got to the edge of the town center before we saw a hoard of Zoms inching towards us.

Thousands of them.

We turned, and ran the other way.

We heard them tearing into the town behind us, scorching the ground with their filth and breaking down buildings like a thousand termites swarming a 2X4 and whittling it down to toothpicks. Fortunately, they did not seem intent on chasing us.

Not having a direction, we continued to walk north until we found a roadside hotel. There were about eight Zoms inside, which we dispatched easily. After we were sure the area was clear, we barricaded the door as best as we could and set up a watch.

And, I was finally able to write all of this down while it was still relatively fresh.

Oh, and no, we didn't leave the looter's weapons. I took the shotgun, Eugene took a pistol and a crowbar and Kyle took the other pistol. 

Now, I’m getting some much-needed sleep. 

Day 90, Part 2

The other two bandits jumped to the side as Alfonso grabbed Jenny and helped her back into our shelter. Kyle, the idiot that he is, just froze. He stood there like a deer in headlights as the two surviving looters shouted obscenities and accused us of luring them into a trap.

I wish it had been our trap, but we had no idea who the shooter was. All I knew was that another sniper shot blew through one of the shelves where another looter was hidden.

In a moment of heroics, I leapt forward and grabbed Kyle, dragging him to the ground as another shot pierced through a bag of toilet paper, sending papery shards scattered around like confetti. I heard a looter call out in pain as another shot blasted into his chest, killing him.

The surviving looter, the shotgun wielder, blasted a round out the broken window where the shots were coming from. But, popping out of his hiding place revealed him to the shooter, who promptly planted a bullet in his chest, sending him flying backwards like a rag doll.

I stood up, hoping that the shooter was not out for my blood as well. I stepped forward and grabbed the fallen shotgun (I left Ophelia on my bedroll on the other side of the store). I held it up, what I hoped would be a sign of surrender to our savior.