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.