Thursday

I have had neighbors for a month now. Kore and Knox still sleep across the street but sometimes they sit on my balcony with me and we shoot arrows at the shambling idiots as they pass by. I'm starting to forget what it was like to be so sad. My emotions are getting twisted into theirs. Kore and I have already kissed. It was like heaven.... but I've walked in on her and Knox having sex. (More times than one) So I am refraining from killing him in his sleep while she smiles at me sweetly while he embraces her.

We are three people left in this world and I should be hurt that Kore is basically the only woman we can pass back and forth and be completely okay with it. Knox and I have even had a conversation about it. Kore sometimes slips up and calls him by my name while they have sex. I'm unsure of why he told me. I'm unsure of how I feel about it. Knox shook my hand and like society still existed promised me that he didn't care, he just wanted to get off. Sex helps people keep their head clear, he said. The first time they had sex was the first night they spent on my street. When I had escaped out of the shadow of night and hyperventilated about how much I wished to just embrace Kore, he was fucking her at full advantage of her broken state. Even at the demise of society I am still getting passed up for a heartless prick that just wants to evacuate his juices on an unsuspecting female. It's difficult to be sad about a subject that seems so passe in comparison to everyone I've ever known being dead and trying to consume each other.

It does get to me.

I took a trip. I traveled. It had been many months since I have spread my wings farther than my 10 block radius. I left without a word. I came back to my house untouched but the routine continued as if I never left as far as clean up went. I had to clear my head. I had to get her sweet smell from my nostrils. I was angry when I came back and nothing had seemed to change. The only difference was Kore ran up to me and hugged me and kissed my neck. She whispered how much she had missed me but I could still smell him on her. His nasty musk from not cleaning himself like he should. The infection he is probably spreading within her flesh. It made me disgusted. The first woman I see in over a year and she's allowing herself to be used by a surface desire rather than a deeper passion just waiting to be unleashed. I sometimes fantasize about killing them both and bathing in their blood. I have so much rage within me it's hard to contain it sometimes. Luckily I have an abundance of zombies to take my aggression out on. There is never enough cleaning to be done. To hear the crush of their bones as I make them no longer a threat.

"You know, if all three of us wanted a night together, I'd be okay with that." He said.
"I'm not in love with him, we're just going through something together" She says.
"Hey look over there... that zombie looks like a rotting, disfigured Zach Galifianakis." I say.

Monday

What can you do for strangers?

"You're a girl." was all the dude said when I removed my headgear.
"And you've got a penis." I replied. "Now, are we done with the sex ed or do you need further proof?"
"I'm just... I didn't know... I mean... with all that stuff on you... and your hair." He motioned towards my face.
"There are fucking dead idiots shambling around outside and are you really upset about genderbending?" Instantly, I'm not pleased.

"Both of you. Shut the fuck up." She spoke with such distraught, detached anger we both instantly looked at the floor and away from each other.

"What should I call you guys?" I ask, attempting to break the awkward silence. "You can call me E."
"Well, E, this is Kore and I'm Knox." The man instructed.
My eyebrow raised, "Kore? As in Queen of the Underworld?"
The girl, called Kore, looked up to me, "You read?"
"I've got plenty of time." I felt my face form into a smile and instantly I forced my lips back into a scowl. "So yeah, there is food, a wash basin in the other room and we should be safe here for a few days"

And we were. We were safe. For a couple days. Then it became too much. The smell, the craziness, my uncomfortable disposition of where I was. I couldn't take it. I told them to stay in that attic and I would take a peek and see if it was safe to stretch our legs. If it's just me, I have enough hidden nooks around the neighborhood that they wouldn't have to worry a bout me. I got this.

I'm freaking the fuck out. They knew each other for only a couple days. Knox met up with the trio somewhere in Kentucky. Knox is called Knox because it's short for Knoxville, the city in Tennessee he is from. I've never been there-- but from what he says I never want to now. Both groups were going east to the coast. They heard there were a fleet of abandoned boats here just up for the grabbing. From there they could take those boats to an island somewhere and be safe. Somehow they ended up in North Carolina and in my town. In my neighborhood. On my street. I'm four hours from the coast. My parents are residents in the coast. I promised myself I would never go east, only north. It's colder up north and I could only imagine how sluggish it would make the shambling idiots and how much easier my life would be. But that would mean uprooting, being a nomad... something I'm not ready for... a year after everything has settled into the way it's just going to be.

"I don't want to know your stories." I said. I got it. Big Man and Brother were related to Kore. Knox had a pregnant wife with him when this started. A pregnant wife and two other, younger, children. His pregnant wife had brought along her brother. As a group Knox tried to get them to the east, to these imaginary boats. No one knew that his wife's brother was sick with Infection. It took a full week of travel before Knox realized that his brother in law was infected. When he tried to abandon his brother-in-law his wife became angry and they had a fight. Long story short, the wife chose to stay with the brother-in-law and Knox abandoned his entire family on the curb. Knox feels guilt and anger over the situation. The story spilled out of him like a busted water balloon. I couldn't shut him up fast enough. Kore zoned in and out during the story. Obviously she had heard it a few times.

Later, Kore thanked me when he wasn't around. "I've heard that story countless times. You'd think he'd be sick of hearing it. I think he has decided it's a daydream and not real, so the more he vocalizes it the more it is legit and not pretend. He's trying to get a grasp of him abandoning his small children.... I think he didn't mind leaving his chick behind so much." She shrugged and pushed her hair behind her ear. "Thank you, by the way. About... uhrm... earlier? That thing that happened? You saved us."

I remember taking a huge gulp. She said it. She said I saved them. There is no saving in this situation, only prolonging. I told her just as I told you just now...

thank me when it's over, for right now it's just begun.

Saturday

"What the fuck was that?" The older gentleman said to one of the younger men in the group.
"I don't know." The younger one replied, "But it sounded like a dying cat."
They drew their weapons and looked around nervously. I watched them from the branches of the tree that is in my yard. I perched up there while they were distracted with other things.
"I heard it too." The girl called out. I've gotten a better look at her, she's easily in her twenties but her face always looks strained like she's constantly trying to figure out the blur in the horizon in front of her.
"Stay close. I can't lose another one of you guys." The eldest gentlemen said to the group. "It's just close enough to downtown to not be fucked with but just far enough away and uphill enough the ghastlies aren't so bad. We could stay here. But we have to figure out what that noise is and where it came from. There are some sick fucks out and if there is someone hiding in these houses we have to figure it out."

Well fuck. I guess I'm the sick fuck he's talking about. I had heard the noise too, which was why I was risking getting caught. I want to be on guard and have a full visible of the situation. They were also missing someone out of their group..... most likely a new shambling idiot. I quickly and quietly got deeper in the tree, holding my breath as I huffed up to get into the thick of the limbs, thankful for how healthy the leaves were. I closed my eyes and steadied my breath, just listening. The group had done a daily cleaning habit and the roads were basically safe. The old man was right, our street is uphill from the thick of the zombies... due to gravity and lack of excellent motor skills I think the shambling idiots don't really put up the gruff to come out this way. I had never thought about that.

"There it goes again." The girl murmured, clutching her shovel tighter. "Where is Sam? Has anyone seen same in the last hour?" The group looked at each other and suddenly they all hustled to the end of the road, towards the grocery store. I followed, jumping house top to house top. (With the help of some rope in the trees and some bridges I've built... just in case I need that type of exit.) I made noise but they were too distracted with their missing friend to notice me. I halted at the last building, a pizza place. I lay my belly down on the hot flat roof and peeked over the small roof lip. The noise was much louder over here and had to be coming from the grocery store. There were also more walkers out on this side of the street, our immediate section of the road was the only thing worth keeping cleaned up on the daily. I had basically left the businesses as is. I cleaned them out, but as far as securing them I didn't bother. The windows were only as boarded up as the owners had attempted before dying or leaving or whatever they ended up doing after the shit hit the fan.

When the group entered the grocery store on the opposite side of the intersection I jumped from the roof with a soft thud. I pulled my machete from it's back holster and shushed a nearby undead who was immobile. The skeletal remains of whoever it was before creaked and kind of moaned at me but had no means to attack. The undead being simply made faces at me and tried to muster a noise. I took my boot to it's face and his head crumbled like a raw egg. The smell hit me as soon as the skull popped open. I pulled down my face mask and continued my way to the grocery store. I slithered around the buildings like one of those cops in those shows do. My fingertips always very gently tracing a line behind me to keep my feet steady, my machete gripped at the ready but passive if they were to come around the corner. My heart was beating in my ears, I could feel the machete waver as I trembled with overactive nerves. I prayed my stomach wouldn't make that annoying gurgle noise it usually does when I'm over-anxious. I peeked around the where the concrete turned into large window, large chunks of it missing from the destruction of society.



"Fuck. Fuck. O, God damn. Mother fucker. What the hell?!" The older gentlemen said between gags and sobs. I couldn't see what he was seeing but I saw enough of the three left I knew what had happened. "Sam, O, Sam. I'm so sorry. He was my baby boy." The old man sobbed, in place, one hand gripping what was left of his soft white hair. The other hand gripped a pistol and it was pointed at something I couldn't see on the ground in front of them. If they don't kill the infected I will have to do something, I thought. I was trying to figure out my plan when the girl sprinted out of the building and puked openly on the sidewalk. I am going to have to clorox that spot now, thanks bitch. I kept my grumble to myself and held steady. I envisioned myself as the same color of the building I had my back pressed against, willing myself to be invisible. She wiped her face with her hand and looked up at me like she had known I was there all along. I blinked like I had something caught in my eyes. I'm dreaming, I have to be dreaming.

Her eyes wide and dilated, her face sweaty and paler than before. "He was my brother." Was all she said, "He was my brother and I stuck my shovel through his face." I stepped forward and dropped my machete just in time to catch her as she fainted. Her tiny body lay limply against mine, I looked down at her and instantly my eyes welled up with tears. Every time I blinked down in the direction of this stranger, I saw her. The her before... the her before all this mess. The her I was never able to save... to protect. I gulped and gently held her head. The older gentlemen came out and saw me cradling the woman, I'm assuming she is his daughter at this point. He looks at me and raises the pistol to his forehead and before my eyes even adjust to what is going on he pulls the trigger. Blood splatters everywhere and he falls to a heap into the vomit on the sidewalk. It takes me a moment before I realize I'm holding my breath. I didn't even flinch when the explosion happened in his skull, painting the area around him with a red mist. There is still one more, I thought. Still frozen, with this girl in my arms. I can't just leave her on the sidewalk. Her father just announced we're out here. He rang the dinner bell. I can't leave her for the main course. I stood up, propping the girl against the building very gently. I gripped the machete and kept one eye on the girl as I walked to get a better view. The only male left was standing with a bloody shovel in one hand and a pistol in the other hand, facing the other direction. I didn't leave the sidewalk so I could keep a visual on the girl but I could see the full scene. There was a headless crawler limply on top of a much fresher body. The top of the head, top of the jaw and above, of the fresher corpse lay a couple feet from the remains. I had to be careful not to startle this man, he had a gun. I nervously glanced every few seconds in the girls direction. I could already smell the dead coming. We had to go, now. "Suh-suh... Umm... Dude..." I cleared my throat, "Sir?" He slowly turned, his eyes crazed but not by infection. I glanced at him, one hand out in compliance, the other gripping my machete ready to throw it at the pistol bearing hand if necessary, then glanced at the girl slowly coming to on the sidewalk. Her father lay limp behind me.


This is going to bad. Really fucking bad... and here I am, smack dab in the fucking middle of it. I gulped and knew I looked strange to him. I was wearing a ski mask, construction goggles and a high quality mouth mask. I wear fitted boots that come to my knees, thick jeans that fit snuggly and I wear winter skin armor that's tucked into my jeans and a zipped up, thin leather jacket. Full sleeves and fitted leather gloves. My weapons all strapped to me accordingly.


Think: Wigged out scuba diver.


"Dude. We need to get out of here. Pronto. Shits about to get thick and I don't think anyone is able right now. Let's go. Now." He nodded and limply stepped in my direction. I glanced at the girl again, she had pulled her legs up to her chin and was sobbing quietly. There is no way I can get them up to my loft like this. No way. That little house has got to do. We will have to hide out in the attic for a few days. They will anyway. They don't have it together enough to be worth anything.


I got the pistol from the dead gentleman's hand and tucked it in my belt, making sure the safety was on. No more bullets would be expelled today. They never once said anything about my appearance. The man just simply picked the girl up from where she sat and instructed her not to look behind us. The two of us walked, as he carried her, in a hurried pace to the little house. I didn't like the idea of attracting more zombies and being out of my safe-hold. The anxiety was setting in and I fought it. By fighting the urge to abandon them I am breaking rules 1, 7 and 15. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I left them there to come over here and take a minute. I left them over there, they may not let me back in... he may have killed her already. I have no idea. As soon as they were secure I left them there so I could clorox the sidewalk and pile up those three corpses and burn them. I burned them in the middle of the road but I had to get rid of it. Those bodies were too fresh. It's a beacon for way more than we can handle. I had to kill some idiots on the way there, but they aren't fresh. The walkers don't give a shit if one of their own kind stops moving... but if a fresh one falls... it's a dinner bell. I'm taking a moment, taking a bath... I will change clothes before I go back over there. These clothes will be burned. I have to replace them. I have to bring some things over there to help deal with this. I will be hunkered down over there for a few days as we anticipate the new flow of dead from the sound of the bullet entering the older gentleman's head.

fuck

Thursday.2

She saw me.

I know she fucking saw me.

They were killing some of the walkers that always seem to be shambling around. (No matter how often I do a clean sweep, there is about 20 or more out there within a 6hr period)

I was peaking through the boards I have on the outside of the house. They are just propped up plywood with a jagged hole in it. I swear one of them noticed me looking, she looked up and turned her head just so. I held my breath and stayed put. It's dark in here so she will just think she's seeing things. They discovered the food in the house across the street, thank the gods. They stopped breaking in doors of the houses. Lucky for me they started on that side of the street. (Smaller houses, quicker to search through)

That's when she saw me. She was keeping watch outside in the middle of the street as the other three entered the homes. They gave her a gun and told her to "Hold tight." What douchebags. I wonder which one she is fucking. She's with three males, one of them appears to be a family member but I'm unsure of how. They look grimy and disheveled. It makes my skin crawl.

I egged them on when they got to the house I keep stocked for them. It's nice to know I'm one of five people in existence but I'd really rather them not destroy all that I've been working for. I've left all the neighborhood doors unlocked so they didn't really have to kick them in but I guess they have a system and checking the door knobs really isn't one of them. I would flinch every time I would hear the pounding noise and the cracking of broken, splintered wood. I watched as a zombie noticed the tiny framed girl, awkwardly clutching the pistol in her hand. When she noticed the shambling idiot she gently put down the gun and withdrew a shovel from their SUV that they had re-parked in the middle of the road. She swung the shovel like a lacrosse stick, connecting the scoop part of the shovel to the undead's head. She hit the walking corpse with such vigor I expecting the zombie's head to be knocked clean off the shoulders and roll across the road. Instead the shovel only broke the undead's neck, knocking the walker from it's feet. She brought the pointed end down on the neck, making a clean break. It was like watching a ballet or porn... my wires are crossed. It was such a turn on, either way. Once she was done she looked around, her foot resting on the forehead of the fallen walker. Her eyes scanned the skyline of my side of the street and hovered once she noticed the bikes I have tied to balcony. Fuck.

I stood there, positive we had made eye contact. There is no way she saw me, right? Right?
When the men came back she didn't even glance in my direction, just picked up the pistol and returned the shovel to the SUV.

Either way they were pleased with what they found in the little house across the street, re-parking the black SUV (probably "stolen") in the driveway. I hope they find the wash basin in the house... those individuals need a scrub. Ew, nasty. It's still midday. They have already finished my clean up work for me. With the four of them it took an easy hour. I'm afraid it's more obvious that there is someone on their road, I kept hearing them yell, "This is too easy" and "Why aren't there more here?" to each other. The woman used the shovel for the clean up, the same lacrosse technique. It was glorious. She would glance in my direction every couple minutes or so. I'm hoping she just has an eye for pedal bikes and not curious about the shadow she might have seen in the window.

We'll see.

Thursday

It's just barely Thursday, but is still Thursday.

I heard a nomad the earlier today. The SUV flew by going on Market St. It's a main road that goes into downtown... if I cared a bit more I would've tried to flag them down. Downtown is a no-go. For nomads, anyway. They have their noisy car and usually are being dumbfucks about it all. Nomads are suicidal bastards that make me fear for my life. They always carry guns and think it's okay to pop zombies off like we're in a fucking video game.

How about, no, dumbass. All that noise is going to attract every shambling idiot in at least a 15 mile radius and those around them wondering where those other idiots are going. Then I'M fucked because while you drive off into the sunset I'm sitting my happy ass in this big ole house hoping all the dead keep migrating away from my sanctioned home. Asshole.

So yeah... they drove past, knocked it in reverse and squealed tires down my road. Obviously. You can SEE the dead downtown from the Market intersection. I knew they would stop in the grocery store. It's picked clean, didn't take them long to notice. I guess they decided to crash in one of the businesses on that corner for tonight. I'm staying my ass inside. I can't risk them getting me killed or killing me.

Fuck. That.

We'll see if they are there tomorrow.

Sunday

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.

Monday

The rain has come.

Peace at last.

The smell is almost gone, the dead are being blown over by large gusts of wind.

I can sleep, at last.

My music can be a low murmur once more.

The rain, it cleanses... it makes things better.

The rain, it makes their heads squish like a jack-o-lantern come November.

Rain, hello rain.

I've missed you.

Friday

There is something in the air. Something has shifted. The dead have moved on, it must have been a loose herd that had passed through. There is still about twenty or thirty down the my block but those are easy pickings. The trees seem to be telling me something. There is a chill in the air at night now, I've taken to laying on my yoga mat and gazing at the stars. It's cool enough the undead below me on the street don't seem to catch my smell or however they know I'm there. I also have taken to finding fresh fruit around town. There are apple trees in people's yards around my neighborhood. I love apples, the way they crunch, that sweet nectar that leaks down my face as I munch on one. It makes me feel alive, rejuvenated... a part of this world again.

I've been going on riskier missions for supplies. I am a short bike ride into downtown.... I know, downtown is a horrid idea, but the plague hit when school was out so the populace was down almost 50%. The heavy flow of undead must have happened due to the earthquake. I thought for sure everything that fell down in my room would create a problem for me... but apparently the earth moving below those monsters created so much noise around them that they couldn't focus on where it was coming from. I kept shelves from caving in during the great shift underneath.

I've also made some signs I'm going to hang up around town... just in case anyone happens through here. The internet on my phone still works so I would imagine it still does with other people's. You can check this blog via mobile, so I don't see why you other people can't access it. Maybe these words will give them hope? I have to be careful though, I can't direct them to where I am through where I have posted my little fliers around town... they can't find me... not yet. But if you are out there... and you did find one of those messages I have left about... please, tell me how you are surviving... I want to know how the nomad can make it out there in the wild like that. Also, by driving around and moving around a lot...

what are you looking for?

Wednesday.

I wept today. I cried like no other. My foundation is being disrupted. My emotions are being hard to keep in check. It has been quite some time since I have seen a nomad come through, but the undead traffic is getting thicker. The smell is horrid. I feel like I can't breath anymore. I have to remind myself to inhale a deep breath and exhale fully. I'm uninterested in everything.

Everything.

Painting seems worthless.
Reading is too distracting.
Music cannot be played with the undead so thick outside.

I may have to do it... always save a bullet for yourself, right? Make sure to put it far back in your throat, right? Disconnect the spine from the brain... kill the electronic signals... I refuse to walk this earth with my eyes like milk and my skin rotting. I can't do it. I can't. I won't.

Why am I to survive this? Why am I still alive? For what? So I can do 200 crunches a day and 200 pull-ups? Is it my goal in life to succeed in muscular strength and killing of those I once knew? Those that I could've known? Those that I pushed away so I couldn't get too close?

Before all this I was a nobody by choice. People scared me in the way little babies frighten grown men. I would wince at the thought of someone wanting to be by my side. Sex was something I could offer, it was a give and take. If I was actively in a sexual relationship I knew where we stood. I knew I could offer them something... but to just be my friend... to not want something of the flesh... I was lost, confused... burdened with the thought of not being wanted. It drove me crazy... so I just shut down. Shut out. Gave up.

Frightened I retreated to my job, my faceless internet friends.... my horror novels. I distracted myself with the idea that death could be a gift. A gift given at the right moment and I would cherish it always.... now, at the face of it... Death is the endgame I can't permit myself. But why?

Death is quite literally knocking at my door, knocking over trashcans and eating your neighbors. Death is outside, teasing me... teasing me with the non-end it creates. All of the death.... all of the dead... they mock me. They call me broken, because I am not like them. I was never like them. Before when they looked more like me, cleaner, I still wasn't one of them... and now, those lines are more defined... and yet I am still on the other side of the fence sharpening my blade waiting for the next war.

I'm praying for rain and wishing to see someone else... anyone else... I cry quietly but why? I can't seem to answer my own questions. I can't seem to shut out my own thoughts. I fear I have become one of them.

I worry that I am a zombie, shambling around town and this whole thing is my soul, catatonic, being carried around in a rotting shell.

Monday

I use to be so fragile... so weak.


On the first day of this mess I was at work, a fancy hotel downtown. I was a nobody... unless, of course, you needed your room cleaned or more towels. The only white girl amongst middle aged Latino women. Their ethnicity only matters because of the language barrier. We talked work only because anything else was a chore. I think some of them cared enough but after awhile gave up. I kept to myself and did my job right. They respected me and made working there worth-while but I still felt unnoticed. I was a ghost before the shit hit the fan. In hindsight I saw red flags of the apocalypse hitting, weeks before I saw my first zombie. I listened to an abundance of NPR and the stories all seemed to be talking about the same thing: Infection.


That's all they called it-- Infection. No fancy name or even a true explanation of how the Infected became exposed to Infection. Infection started popping up in Middle America the same way Mad Cow Disease made everyone more paranoid but not any more careful. The only thing I could gather about Infection was that you could catch it at the hospital... and everyone could get it. From ICU to itty-bitty babies. Anyone with Infection had 3 weeks, then eventually 2 weeks, then just days. Because of the slow transition the dead ended up being buried at first, before the second symptom of Infection became realized. No press release was ever made about the second symptom, reanimation, until much later... when it was too late.


The first red flag of the coming apocalypse, I now realize, was the people flooding into town because a loved one was transported to our hospitals, "No reports of Infection have been from your hospital, so we drove Billy here to be treated" they'd say. The hotel was at 100% and overbooked for two solid months. Everyone was crazy. People quit and were begged to at least finish out their two weeks. That's when it got ugly... with the hotel full we had over 1,100 guests and over 250 employees in the building at all times. We had people camping out in the hallways and our restaurant was out of orange juice and hot tea every two days. The sick were spilling into our hotel because the hospitals had no room. The CDC was called and we began washing the hotel linens three times total and with some extra strength anti-bacterial products given to us by the CDC. At some point the Governor shut off our water for a few days because it was feared that it been contaminated by a dead Infected that was caught floating in a lake, fifty miles upstream from our city water supply.


I saw my first zombie while still on the clock, on the 11th floor of the hotel. A smell had developed in the guest quarters of the hotel. It was a mix of dried flowers and Clorox. No one seemed to notice it but me. The smell made me dizzy and nauseous. I had taken to wearing my chemical face mask as soon as I entered the building and wouldn't remove it until I was in my car at the end of the day. I was doing my normal rounds, three sets of three loud knocks before entering a room and loudly announcing myself as I enter a room. It's protocol. It's what saved my life.


Three firm knocks, no answer.
Three heavier knocks, no answer.
Three very prominent knocks, no answer.


The silence acquiesced my way into the room. I slid my digital skeleton key into the slot. Two blinks yellow, one blink green. I opened the door, my heart thumping and my breathing loud due to the mask. The smell of death hit me hard and my eyes began to water. I took a step back and pressed my spine against the entry door. I had heard rumors of the morning staff entering a room to find a corpse awaiting them. Was it my turn? I heard a gurgling noise coming from the bathroom, "Fresh linens!" I said to the gurgling noise "Fresh Linens!" I said again, a little louder to the half opened bathroom door. My back firmly against the door and my hand resting on the door knob. The bathroom door slowly swung open to reveal a bloody torso that resembled a hunk of meat. I blinked until I forced myself to acknowledge what I was seeing was real.


A small girl, about the age of seven or eight. looked up at me with one bloody hand pulling the door back to see me. Nothing happened, we just stared at each other. I was petrified and motionless. She looked past me and I questioned if I were actually a ghost all these years after all. A gasp escaped my lips, muffled from the paper mask across my face. The little girl suddenly grew very interested in me. The same gurgling noise I had heard earlier now leaking out of this tiny framed girl, the iris of each eye submerged in a milky haze. As she got to her feet blood oozed out of her sagging, open mouth. I quickly opened the door and let myself out. I was on the opposite side of the door pressing my back against it once more. I slumped over and slid to my knees, letting the panic attack flood over me. Even over my labored breathing amplified by the mask I could hear little fingernails pawing at the door and her little body limply pressing against it. I got to my feet and searched for my bag I always hid in my laundry cart. I unearthed my keys and quickly walked to the service elevators. I abandoned my cart, pressing it against the door and putting a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob. I could still hear the little girl flinging her body against the door and that god-awful gurgling noise as the elevator doors closed. I gripped my keys like a knife. O yeah, that's right. I dug out the pocket knife I had in my bag and opened it at the ready.


The elevator doors opened to reveal Tim, the bell hop, one hand resting on an empty luggage cart. It only took a couple seconds for the bell hop to realize I had a six inch blade pointed in his direction.
"Whoa, Pretty lady! Put that thing away!" He waved his hands in front of him in peace.
"I'm leaving and you should do the same." Was all I said as I pushed passed him.


I didn't even make it out of the parking garage before my cellphone started ringing. I answered, it was my boss explaining that although carrying a knife at work is against policy they would gladly do whatever it takes to get me to finish my shift, in the very least.
"Go home. Go home to your family and barricade yourself inside. Do it now before it's too late.... O, and call the cops, there has been a murder in room 1157." Click.



I never did find out what happened to that little girl.

Tuesday

I killed another one. One that looked like someone I once knew. She walked into my yard while I was tying a bicycle to my fence (that's on my balcony). She stumbled in, her hair all matted up and she was missing an arm. Her hair looked the color of mud but once previously shown a bright red. I sighed and unsheathed my machete with a big sigh and jumped from the balcony. I landed on my feet, legs bent. She looked at me, confused, distant... like she might have known me once. I walked over, one hand gripping the machete and used my entire upper body to bring the machete down across her neck. Her body fell limp and the head of a girl I once desired rolled across my lawn. I sighed and went over to the head, it still wobbling and the mouth still moving. "Glad I never loved you." I huffed, as I gripped the thing by it's hair and tossed it in a pile I will be burning later this week. I drug her body across my lawn, her tight jeans now ripped and dirty. With each blink I remembered how I use to know her.

I've given a final death to ones I've missed much more. Once I piled her body on top of the mound of rotting flesh, I spat on her twice dead body for good measure. "Rest in hell." I said aloud, wrinkling my whole face in disgust. My voice seems weird these days.. to hear it aloud, I mean. It feels distant, like a friend I once knew. I took a deep breath and looked around. My world is in shambles, the whole idea of serenity is a joke. My road is less full of deceased. I haven't seen a nomad in weeks. I'm starting to think if I'm the only one on this big blue and green.

I haven't been writing a lot... I know. I actually lost power for two days and thought it'd never return... but it flickered on yesterday. I didn't even notice, I about shit myself when my fan started up. It's low hum sounded like a helicopter. My heart jumped just to plummet. Then I realized I could have the internet, once more... just maybe. I checked... still no news updates ANYWHERE... all of my old websites and a few new ones I've joined "after" still hold no new clue to what the outside world is up to. Just death... just death and decaying, walking, shambling idiots.

I caught myself brushing my teeth for a fourth time yesterday. I was making my gums bleed. There is something about knowing I might never see a dentist again that is really disturbing me. I can't shake it. I've accepted never seeing my mother... but not the dentist? This is when I realize I have serious problems. I'm the cleanest human being on the planet and I have a problem with brushing my teeth too much.

There, I said it.

Wednesday.

Rules. I have rules.

1. Don't trust strangers
2. Cardio, cardio, cardio.
3. Don't tell anyone about supplies you have.
4. No one is allowed in this house but me.
5. If someone gets bitten in front of me, kill them without question.
6. I don't care if it's your 5yr old daughter, she's one of them now.
7. Never get too distracted with anything. Keep an ear out, constantly.
8. Never use a gun unless its absolutely necessary.
9. Don't fear the zombies, fear nomads. (Traveling still-have-a-pulse-people who travel for survival)
10. Keep a sharp knife close at all times.
11. Carelessness is what kills you.
12. Stay quiet at all times. Loud noises attracts very unwanted attention.
13. Never get under the influence of anything. See #11 and #7
14. Your family is dead, get over it.
15. Burn the remains.
16. Wear something covering every inch of skin when outside. Your pores absorb blood, the blood carries the virus.
17. It's better to run and live, than kill and put yourself at risk.
18. Being alone and alive is better than being one of them and dead.
19. Help isn't coming. You are your own help.
20. Have a hobby, it helps you keep your sanity.
21. You are never safe.
22. There is no such thing as "comfortable" anymore.
23. It's not stealing, it's scavenging.
24. It's not killing, it's surviving.
25. Take multivitamins every day.
26. Remove the head at the jaw line. If the jaw is separated it can't bite you anymore.

Thursday

Yesterday was very difficult for me. A herd came through. Over a thousand, easy.

I was on complete radio silence.

No music. No movement. I literally laid in my floor for 12hrs and tried not to budge, I allowed myself real sleep. My stomach was so upset when I was actually able to move though. They breached the first level but only in the foyer. I have every room in the house sealed off separately in case of an undead break in and everything is bleached down there to make sure my scent is long gone. There were so many of them I really think it was being forced on the sidelines and being attracted by the reflection from the light posts. I have removed them completely, only cords hang there now. I made sure to rip them off the wall so it looked like the undead did it by a casual observation.

I have to make this house look boarded up and abandoned. My life depends on it. Anyone who wants to kill for a new place to live will look for an occupied house. Where people are there is food. Where people are there is sustainability. They want to take that from you. Don't ever doubt that. I observe people before allowing them into the house for any length of time. I also don't use a conventional entrance to the house so I have to make sure they are able. No one sickly is allowed... no discussion. Any sign of being sick is a death sentence. I've seen people arguing in the street and either left for the zombies to consume them or shot in the face. Some of them I'm pretty sure just had a generic head-cold. There were reports before the news system were dismantled about people killing their whole families because they felt they couldn't protect them.

I'm not one of those cases. If someone seems sick I don't even let them know I exist. I have boarded up the homes on either side of me to look very similar to mine. They are all very large houses. Large houses in the midst of this nastiness is a death sentence. No one wants to stay a night in a big house that might get attacked in the middle of the night with no way to make 100% sure they have checked every window and door... big houses early on were broadcasted as deathtraps rather than sanctuaries. There are still radio broadcasts streaming on repeat telling people to stay away from large houses and large buildings. It helps in my favor. People usually camp out in one of the houses across the street, it's rather tiny. I leave canned foods over there because I'd rather these nomads feel they have lucked out and not go searching through the community to scavenge. I leave enough there to support 4 people for a week. Enough that people don't go looking for more. I have guns but I don't use them. I carry a .375 S&W Magnum strapped to my leg and I always have a blade with me. Two sizes, a small switch blade I have in my pocket and a large I keep on my belt in a holster. I only carry my machete when I'm doing my rounds or clean up. Blades don't run out of ammo or cause too much noise. I only have a gun for people who aren't dead yet.

I have a few other guns but I carry the most light weight and one I can easily reload. Also, I have a makeshift carrying case so it doesn't look like I'm carrying a gun. I can reach down and grab it without anyone suspecting a thing. I found it in one of my neighbors houses. I guess they got killed while away and never had the chance to take it with them. Guns were a must have in the evacuation process. When it got really nasty the government issued a statement telling all militias to gather and to protect their neighborhoods. None of them survived... to my knowledge. They were sitting ducks, drunken rednecks drinking beer shooting up a storm just attracting more and more undead to replace their wasted bullets.


As I laid there on the floor yesterday I stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks, too scary to look outside. Any flutter of curtains or sign of life and I would've had a swarm on me. I'm not even how long ago they moved on. Usually if a house is breached and the zombie stumble out later, un-phased or un-smelling of a victim the mass keeps moving. I had no fan going so I was nervous about my sweating. I have no idea how well their senses are but I know that when I go out on a cooler day and I don't sweat as much I don't have as much problems as days I'm sweating through my clothes. I woke up to the noise under me when I was breached but I was confident in my safe hold. I have long-ago ripped up the staircase for firewood and extra protection. If there are no means to travel upon, there are no means to get me. They would fall into the basement and that just makes clean up all the easier. They also didn't actually get into the house, just tore down a layer of the barricade and got bored with it when they didn't sense anyone in the house. I had fallen asleep on the floor and wasn't moving. I use to be such an active sleeper and now I sleep like a corpse. The less noise I make the more likely I am to see tomorrow.

Tuesday.2

Today was rough. I'm so glad it's dark out. Today was really rough. I mean... yeah... I can't even put it into words... so I won't bother.

I didn't leave the house... not once. I'm so glad that the power still works but it's been so hot and the large ac unit outside is too loud to run. It attracts too many. I run a fan and crack a window but if they smell... or sense... or whatever they do... sweat... if they smell (just for sake of argument) your sweat they go all crazy.

I'm so lucky that they are the slow shambling idiots they are but I don't like to have more than a hundred at a time on my street. Sometimes I'm lucky and they migrate together and I can go gather supplies from neighboring houses or the grocery store on the corner. Them all being gone for any length of time is rare and only happens in what feels like an eternity between the breaks. The moans are unsettling and they are just as unhappy with the heat as I am... but it seems to expedite the rotting process. (I don't want to talk about the smell... I've puked enough in one life time) They seem slightly more sluggish but that's only because the sun is so hot it's boiling them. I can see from my bedroom window their skin bubbling and their lips chapping. Their tongues hang out like a dog.... I really think they'd pant if they used their lungs.

I am typing this by candle light, huddled in a corner. They see anything shiny or "different" against a horizon they attack it. They lunge for it. They go for hours and hours until they can consume it. When I go out I have to shoot a house across the street (in the opposite direction I want to go to) with a flare gun. I hit the same damn house every time... and they never learn it's a trick, lucky me. I board up the windows more securely at night with large bolts. Nailing at this time of night would be suicide. I can't see them and with low visibility they have the upper hand. They don't have to see you, they just have to have the idea in their heads that you're in front of them... they don't need eyes.... they just go. They go until you are consumed.

I better sleep. I raise when the sun does. Although I don't really sleep. I don't sleep with any noise but the moans and the moans are not a sweet lullaby to hum mindlessly during happy times. I listen. I listen and get brief naps until the sun rises. I have to be on alert at all hours of the day. During the middle of the day I nap some too. I take two hour "lay downs" every six hours. I have to stay rested. Without rest one goes crazy (or crazier) and without rest one gets weak. One cannot get weak. One does push ups constantly. One is me. I am one. I am the only one.

Okay, not the only one... there are people who pass by... but never groups bigger than 3, and rarely are they ever related or family before all this. We are all family after this, but we can only choose that family now. I choose to be one. One is a safe number. One will not fuck one over.... one will never hold a gun to ones head.

Got it?

Tuesday

It has been roughly a year since the apocalypse hit. How do I still have power? Well, my guess is whoever was meant to shut it off died like the rest of them. I have documented my past days on paper but have found out that I have a resource I have overlooked for so long... the internet. Could someone possibly read this? Is there still help? I'm not sure. I am at a location I will only give vague details about... I have learned the hard way. When I first hunkered down I wanted to find as many other survivors as possible... I wanted to help as many as possible. That led to disaster and now I only give refuge to people who are only passing through and do not wish to stay for more than a week. If they don't want to leave? I make them.

This house had 6 people living in it "before" but now... now it's just me... in this large six bedroom house. I have it more protected than you could ever imagine. Months of solitude can perfect any obsession, my OCD thrives in this environment.

I have told you nothing because I feel no one would read this anyway. I don't know why I'm even trying this... the world is dead. I know that now. Dead. Gone... and shambling down my road like I owe them something. Them. It, they are nothing now. Just rotting corpses and a lapse of reason. Many of them died because they are stupid and did not heed the warnings. Even the CDC released a statement about what to do when zombies attacked, the fucking idiots... those shambling idiots outside just thought it was a cute joke... a mockery of how to get information to the public.

Such fools.