If my calendar is correct my mom's birthday is coming up in a week. I don't know what to think about it. I mean... it's not like I can call her or anything. I have no idea if she's alive or not. I have a pretty good idea that she isn't but I'd rather keep my hopes low instead of having them shot down later.
I did a scavenge mission last week. It took me four days and I was drenched from head to toe. I love it when it rains, they seem to sidetracked by the smell of nature to really notice me. Visibility is always an issue but that's why it took so long. I had to find a safe house and make sure I had plenty of weapons. Downtown is so dense with the dead I'm paranoid I will lead them back to my house on the trip back. I always take a super long way and take my time. I don't even know why I went, really. I don't need anything. Maybe just a change of scenery? See if any nomads have gotten stranded and need some rescuing? O, if only.
Instead I got some coffee and other needless things that I probably could've done without. I found some new clothes that will work out nicely and... I saw another one. One that I knew once. It was Rosie from work, she was still in her maids uniform. She was milling around with the other couple dozen in the streets as I pass them she almost seemed to nod her head at me as a greeting, just as she always did. Any time I see one I recognize I kill them for fear that they will remember where I live and come find me... and usually it keeps the nightmares at bay. If I kill it in real life that's my only memory I can replay, if I allow the thing that looks like someone I once knew to continue to shamble around, well, they might find me... and crawl into my bed while I rest...
I don't want to think about that right now. The shift in weather has caused the shambling idiots to slow their pace and notice me less. I think they're distracted by the cool air and constant bustling of dried leaves. I am still doing my daily rounds and killing as many as I can without being worried about my own safety. The coffee gives me a false sense of energy but I'm mentally so expendable it's making me sick to my stomach. I've taken to talking to the zombies before I kill them. I check their pockets and create stories in my head on how they got such a miserable end. Then I think about what I said earlier... about being catatonic? What if I'm putting these souls to rest, for real... am I helping?
What if there is a cure and I'm just killing these suckers off? Is there police or military anymore? Will I be reckoned with once they realize the scorch marks and brittle bones on corner of the road is the only thing left of hundreds of bodies I put out of mobility? Will I care if I am jailed? You could say I'm already a caged bird... too big for the cage... pecking endlessly for rescue but to no avail.
I guess I'll never know.
I did a scavenge mission last week. It took me four days and I was drenched from head to toe. I love it when it rains, they seem to sidetracked by the smell of nature to really notice me. Visibility is always an issue but that's why it took so long. I had to find a safe house and make sure I had plenty of weapons. Downtown is so dense with the dead I'm paranoid I will lead them back to my house on the trip back. I always take a super long way and take my time. I don't even know why I went, really. I don't need anything. Maybe just a change of scenery? See if any nomads have gotten stranded and need some rescuing? O, if only.
Instead I got some coffee and other needless things that I probably could've done without. I found some new clothes that will work out nicely and... I saw another one. One that I knew once. It was Rosie from work, she was still in her maids uniform. She was milling around with the other couple dozen in the streets as I pass them she almost seemed to nod her head at me as a greeting, just as she always did. Any time I see one I recognize I kill them for fear that they will remember where I live and come find me... and usually it keeps the nightmares at bay. If I kill it in real life that's my only memory I can replay, if I allow the thing that looks like someone I once knew to continue to shamble around, well, they might find me... and crawl into my bed while I rest...
I don't want to think about that right now. The shift in weather has caused the shambling idiots to slow their pace and notice me less. I think they're distracted by the cool air and constant bustling of dried leaves. I am still doing my daily rounds and killing as many as I can without being worried about my own safety. The coffee gives me a false sense of energy but I'm mentally so expendable it's making me sick to my stomach. I've taken to talking to the zombies before I kill them. I check their pockets and create stories in my head on how they got such a miserable end. Then I think about what I said earlier... about being catatonic? What if I'm putting these souls to rest, for real... am I helping?
What if there is a cure and I'm just killing these suckers off? Is there police or military anymore? Will I be reckoned with once they realize the scorch marks and brittle bones on corner of the road is the only thing left of hundreds of bodies I put out of mobility? Will I care if I am jailed? You could say I'm already a caged bird... too big for the cage... pecking endlessly for rescue but to no avail.
I guess I'll never know.
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