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

…..

…..

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. 

Day 90, Part 1

So, it’s been an eventful day. Let me take it one thing at a time and break it down into two parts.

So, this morning, around dawn, Alfonso woke me up because the scratching was back. We painted the windows with black paint, so we couldn’t see through them, but we were able to sneak up to the roof and peer over the side.

I was right. More survivors. What looked like three hooded teens were trying to pry open the door with crowbars. I had to give credit to them, most teens would just smash the window and grab what they could, but these three were smarter than that.

Smashing the window would cause a lot of noise. And that noise would be like sounding the dinner bell for the Zoms (I feel it catching on).   They were being subtle about it… at first.

That was, until one of them caught sight of Alfonso ducking back onto the roof. We spooked them. One of them, the tallest, grabbed a shotgun out of his backpack.

My respect for them disappeared instantly as they unloaded a shot right at us.

It was the most noise I’ve heard in days.

They threw caution to the wind and threw one of their crowbars into the window, shattering it entirely. Alfonso and I ran downstairs to  help sort things out. By the time we got down there, the rest of our team were rushing towards us as the three boys unloaded gunfire into the store.

Eugene sported a nice-sized bullet wound on his leg, but other than that, we were relatively unscathed. We bared the door to the stairs that lead to the roof and locked ourselves in. On the other side, we could hear the panicked voices of the teens as they ransacked our carefully-constructed supply sorting.

We were going to just wait them out and let them leave…

Until we realized that Jenny was not with us.

They called out, saying they had our “Granny,” and that we should come out and “surrender the good stuff.”

Alfonso and Kyle went out to negotiate (though, I didn’t think he was the best choice), but I could hear things get heated fast. I came out to try and diffuse the situation, but, just as I came out of the door, a bullet blasted through the back of one of the looter’s heads, dropping him to the ground.

Day 89

This morning, we woke up to a muffled scratching on the front door.

It was chained close and all but welded to the frame, so there was no amount of scratching that would get anyone in there, but it was alarming.

Alfonso and Vlad went to check it out, but there was no sign of any of the Zoms (a name I’m trying out). But, there was a crumpled up chip bag that Vlad swore was not there when we arrived. Alfonso thinks that other survivors are around and were trying to get in.

I hope they don’t come back. I’m not sure we are in the right state of mind to negotiate with other humans.

We’ll see, I guess.  

Day 86

Finally, a break. Though the grocery store was mostly ravaged, we found enough food for the nine of us to last for months! What’s more, they had a decent electronics section and, with Eugene’s help, I was able to fashion a very nice little power source. Hopefully he doesn’t die anytime soon. He might be the only one who can keep this project going.

I guess, if worse comes to worse, I can go to pen-and-paper. But, I would really rather not. In fact, part of me wonders if I would even bother writing this stuff down if I had to do it on paper.

Is that weird?

Maybe I’m getting a little unhinged.

Anyways, we bared up the doors and only left one door open; the door to the roof. If we go up there, we can take the fire-escape to the ground. No way in but up means that none of those “zombies” can get in here.

We’ve taken to organizing everything in the store in sections. Food, utilities, toiletries, potential weapons; we’re getting very organized over here.

 Well, except for Boris.

He took the death of his father a lot harder than we thought he would. He’s the only one of us who refuses to carry a weapon. Linda even offered to let him carry the gun, but he didn’t want to.

I worry about him.

Alfonso has taken a back-seat to leading. After Derek’s death, he has declared himself and Vlad the “security officers” of the store. They walk the perimeters and check the doors to make sure everything is secure. I have to be honest, I think its good for him. Being in a central leadership role was weighing on him.

Only problem is, now there’s a bit of a power-vacuum.

Kyle likes to think that he’s next in line, but I don’t trust him. He’s a little sleazy for me. Linda doesn’t want to do any leading and Miranda pretty much does anything Kyle says. Eugene is not really “leadership” material and Vlad isn’t outspoken enough to be a leader… not that I would want him to be.

That kind of leaves me, but I prefer to think of myself as a reporter rather than an actual doer. But, I might not have an option.

Well, it’s back to work for me. Eugene and I are going through the rest of the electronics and seeing if there is anything else that we can use.

Until next time. 

Day 85

Derek turned at the worst possible time. We were hiding from a hoard that was passing in the fields outside of Jenny’s neighbor’s house. As long as we were keeping quiet, we were hidden from those things. But Derek started to turn. I didn’t want to use Ophelia (what I named by shovel-knife) to kill a human, but it was either he die or we all get torn apart by those things.

Boris watched the entire thing.

We’re just a mile outside of the small hamlet that Jenny says the grocery store is in. We didn’t want to go in at night, so we are staying in another old farm house until morning. Then, we’ll go in and see what we can find.

Alfonso fashioned a bunch of steak-knives to his old MMA gloves, making, what he is calling, the Haymakers. I swear, he is getting more and more unhinged by the day. But, he has kept us alive this far.

We are kind of improvising with weapons now. Linda found a gun in one of the houses that we ransacked, just a little .22 with a few dozen rounds; she’s the only one who is properly equipped. The rest of us are working with some very strange weapons.

Kyle and Miranda, for instance, fashioned together matching pitch-fork/sledgehammer hybrids.

We look like a bunch of crazies.

But, I guess we will do what we have to do.

22% battery life on this one. It means that, if I don’t find a battery in the store, this might be my last entry.

Let’s hope not. 

Day 82

On the road. Derek turned. Had to kill him.

Poor Boris. 

Day 80

We had to close off the basement area. We found a small cache of tools that we fashioned into some makeshift weapons, so we’ve been able to keep the hoard at bay.

It looks like someone trapped a group of them down there. There has to be at least 40 of those… things. We were sitting on top of them this whole time. Derek popped open a chained door, thinking it might lead to some supplies.

He was wrong.

The bottom floors are flooded with them. We sealed it off, but Alfonso wants to leave as soon as possible.

Derek got scrapped by one of those things. Jenny had some Medical supplies, so we patched him up, but Alfonso pulled me and Vlad aside and asked us to keep an eye on him. We don’t know how this thing works.

I would hate to have to kill a person with my new weapon;

A shovel with a bowie-knife strapped to the handle-side—pretty ingenious, if I do say so myself. Saved my hide when Derek and I were running from those things.

I guess I should call them something other than “those things.” It’s been almost four months. Doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere.

I used to watch those horror shows with my brother back when we were kids. These things are a lot like those slavering zombies in those shows. I would like to think that it was not exactly like that, but, if it looks like a zombie, moves like a zombie and bites like a zombie…

Well, I would suspect we will be on our way soon. Alfonso is getting more and more jumpy the longer we stay here.

We’re heading towards Jenny’s old house to scavenge some of the rural homesteads. Then, we will make for the grocery store.

Hopefully Derek doesn’t turn before we can get him some more substantial help than some triple-antibiotic ointment and a Superman Band-aide. 

Day 74

It started with the insects. At least, that’s what they said at the beginning before all the televisions went out. They said it was because of some new gene that had been developing in certain types of insects. We didn’t think much of it at first. Throw on some more bug spray and stay out of humid areas.

But bug spray didn’t work for long.

It took less than 10 days for the government to falter. On the fourth day, martial law was declared. On the fifth day, the president was given limitless power to guide the nation. The sixth day, the president was dead.

Most of the people who stayed in the cities turned into one of… those things.

Only the people who got out or were far enough away from patient zero were able to survive. The last radio broadcast I heard was on an emergency channel on day 22. It said that an estimated 90% of the population had been infected.

The next morning, all the radios were dead.

As far as I can tell and remembering what I learned about virus’s in high school, this thing acts like a cancer. 

Anything that doesn’t have it is a target for the cancer to slowly spread.

I can only hope that the radio was wrong. If only 10% of humanity is left…

Anyways, we have set up a nice little shelter here in the warehouse. Alfonso says that we can stay here for a week or two, as long as we are able to find some more food. Linda said that we might be able to scrounge some supplies from the surrounding rural houses for a few days. With any luck, we’ll hit a jackpot and be able to set up here a little longer.

It’s dark, but there’s more than enough trash and debris to burn to keep everything that needs lit nice and bright, not to mention cook our quickly dwindling supplies of meat.

Jenny says she used to live in a house just six or seven miles from here and that there was a grocery store a mile or so from there. We just need to find some weapons and we can go and check it out. Chances are, bandits have already ravaged it, but you never know what they might have missed. At this point, every little bit helps.

Oh, and I found some socks. They are bio-hazard-safe, which is a big selling point. Found them in the employee locker room in a dingy subterranean room below the central floor. I guess some of the warehouses around here are connected for some reason.

Who cares, though. My feet are dry for the first time in days.

Well, this battery is almost dead. I have another one that I am hoping lasts a little longer. Hopefully, we can get to that grocery store and see if they have some electronics too.

Of course, that’s hardly a priority.

Anyways, that’s all for now. Derek and I are going to go back down below and see if we can find anything to use as a weapon in case we want to go for the grocery store.

Until then. 

Day 71

I suppose I never said who I was. In years to come, if this mess ever straightens itself out, I suppose it would be a good idea for there to be a name to this story.

I guess you can just call me “the writer,” but, by name, I went by Hiram Donahue. Not a very great name, I know. So, let’s just stick with, “the writer.” I was an investigative journalist before it hit the fan.

Well, until recently. I lost my job and was on the hunt once more. Call it the decline of print media, or whatever else. I guess that’s why I’m so adverse to writing with paper. Paper kind of put me out of business. It might be a better idea to do the old pen-and-paper, but I just can’t bring myself to scratch out anything coherent on a pad. Hopefully, there will one day be a means for me to print this out.

Or, for someone else to print it out if I’m…

Anyways, Alfonso and the rest of us were staying in a parking garage of an old office complex outside of Dallas. He has been the ringleader since our exodus, but has been a little… off lately. In the old world, he was an MMA coach, making him particularly skilled at getting us through those… things.

Of course, losing over 20 people in the course of sixty days can weigh on a person’s confidence.

Anyways, Laurence, a former truck driver, came back from the office complex, where he had been scouting with news that a hoard was on the way. That’s why we had to leave. So, we packed up what little we had and made out way north.

But the hoard caught up with us and Laurence wanted to be a hero.

Now, there’s only 10 of us: 

1. Myself, the writer.
2. Alfonso, the MMA coach.
3. Linda, the mail carrier.
4. Eugene, the computer programmer.
5. Kyle, the unemployed “entrepreneur.”
6. Miranda, the waitress and fiancé of our Kyle.
7. Derek, the school teacher.
8. Boris, his son (who hates his name).
9. Jenny, the retiree.
10. And Vlad. I’d rather not say much about Vlad. Let’s just say that I don’t think that Vlad is his real name.

We arrived at a warehouse that Linda knew about. She used to deliver mail in this old industrial park. Most of the buildings were abandoned, but the warehouse was used for housing freezer meats.

I know what you’re thinking; food jackpot.

But, it wasn’t that glorious. A lot of the meat had spoiled after so long without refrigeration. Some of those… things got in and tainted some more of it. We took care of them and salvaged enough meats for the lot of us to have a few days of meals before it spoils.

Anyways, we’re fortifying here until we can make a decision about what to do next.

In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can find some dry socks.

Day 66

The one thing they never tell you about the end of the world is how hard it is to find a dry pair of socks. You wouldn’t think that such a trivial thing would cause so much trouble, but the fact of the matter is, my feet are cold and wet and it’s driving me crazier than anything else. The screaming into the night; the groans of whatever cannibalistic baddies strafe by our camp; the wet, sucking sound of demons in the distance feasting off others: all of these things seem like white noise now. But the feeling of wet socks is enough to drive even a man with the sturdiest constitution mad.

I thought that my mind would burst with all of the thoughts running through it over these past two months; but that was before I found this computer. Believe it or not, it’s hard to find a functioning computer these days. Let alone one with a decent enough battery to give me time to write down the myriad of encounters that our group has in any given day.

I suppose I’d better start from the beginning. This laptop has a nice lithium battery, so I’ve got a few hours of power before it runs dead.

I’m not sure how it started, to be honest. I was sitting in a cab heading up town for an interview when the driver turned up the radio. Some weird broadcast about riots breaking out all over the city. He freaked out and left me there, running down an alley, shouting something about his daughter.

Poor guy. He didn’t even see the “rioters” hiding in the alley. My blood was pumping as I got in the driver’s seat and sped as fast as I could out of town.

I didn’t get very far. By that time, the highways were already packed with others trying to get out of the city. It wasn’t my car though. I just put it in park and hiked all the way to the countryside.

That’s when I met Alfonso. He was leading a group south towards a military safe-zone. Back then, there were still 40 of us; just enough to sound the dinner bell. 

A lot happened in the month that followed. Too much for me to mention now. Let’s just say that we’ve been through a lot.

There’s only 11 of us left. Alfonso is still here… but he’s also not all here.

Anyways, it’s about time to move out camp. I’m going to try and find another battery or two to keep this thing going. We're on our way to one of those warehouse stores that Linda knew about. Hopefully, it hasn't been picked clean just yet. Maybe there will be more electronics there to help my little diary... 

As long as I live that long.