January 12th 2017
Its been a bit over a year now since the mass panic ended, and the silence began. I don’t know who I’m writing this for or why, probably to keep myself sane, but its getting hard to get on alone out here, I’ve been alone since summer. The last time I spoke to people was in the fall. My town was overrun by the dead nearly completely in the hot summer months, and since most people fled North or South or wherever there were few of us who stayed, and we had kept in contact with some radios for that time. The dead don’t know tired or cold or hot or thirst, they only know hunger, and they don’t know when to quit. I’ve seen them wheezing and following birds with their arms outstretched, no chance of getting them high in their nest on a telephone pole. The birds are lucky, because everything that cant get high up or run fast or swim away has been skeletonized by the bastards. Fucking assholes. Neighbor and his dog, a fucking bear of a man with his good old shepherd were cornered in the Walmart, when everyone was panicking the dead swept in like a wave and tore their way to the back of the store. The only reason I’m writing this is because they grabbed a great big fat guy instead of me. There were a few gunshots, I couldn’t tell where. He clung to my leg, his cries for help barely heard over the emergency alarm as they were tearing chunks out of his back and coming for me. I hit him with the hatchet I had, I hope it was a mercy but I honestly don’t know. I was out of that emergency exit like everyone else who could run for it.
I had some supplies at my place, but my car was in the lot, in a sea of rotting, writhing flesh all groaning and reaching out for their prey. I had the hatchet, a knife on my belt, my wallet even though I didn’t plan on paying for my cart full of food that I had been forced to leave, my keys, and my phone on half a charge. I wasn’t waiting around either, I took off out the back as the emergency siren from the door screamed on, drawing more of them no doubt. I think that was a good thing though, I had a clear path back home and I ran the whole three miles. By the time I got to my complex, panting and hands shaking, the news was warning people to stay away from the Walmart I had just been at, only hours before they said they were on the other side of town and to get what you need quick. I watched for a moment as there were screams and running footsteps on tv, and the news anchors both jumped up and pushed each other along as the crew ran from the unseen but not unknown assailants. The feed cut and I snapped back to reality, and grabbed my BOB, bug out bags were important to have, and the news did one thing right in explaining them. I had some canned food, scissors, a few bottles of water, tooth brush and tooth paste, another knife, some paracord, along with a blanket, lighter, raincoat, small pot to boil water, and a box of .45 cal ammo, around 100 bullets in all. I ran to my room and grabbed my gun, it was a Sig Sauer of the same caliber, three magazines already loaded, and some dehydrated food I could stuff in the bag.
Things looked bleak but I still had my opening, and then the door to my apartment was suddenly under assault, and it was nearly jumping off the hinges. My neighbor Ray was out there and he was screaming to be let in, pleading, saying his wife locked him out. I was frozen, hands on my gun pointed at the floor, and certainly not moving from my spot. I was quiet, and the tv signal was lost, then I heard him move down the hall and repeat the plea. He got halfway through when I heard a loud bang, and a slump. It was time to go, and I had already needed to change my plans, the bang was near the stairs, so I ran the other way, opened the fire escape window and climbed down the one story to the ground, and started jogging. my plan would have done better with a car, far better, but fate is cruel. I had a safe house to the north of town, owned by a family friend who told me: “when shit hits the fan you know where I’ll be,” a small farm house with trees and a pond to catch fish, land to grow food on, and a couple of rifles and ammo in case anyone wanted to try anything. The highway to get to it was long though, and I could see everyone trying to escape their backed up cars as the dead chased them up the line, slowly breaking into the cars of the screaming unlucky ones who were boxed in. I saw one car light up with four flashes, then all movement stopped inside.
I ran back downtown, and waved my gun at people, yelling “Move! Move!” I just kept running, and I made it to the local library, desperate and panting I tried the door, and felt it was unlocked! I quickly ran in and locked the deadbolt, then went searching for the other doors and locked them. the only other person there was the janitor, still in his jumpsuit, handing in the supply closet with a picture of who I guessed to be his family on the floor. He was cold, and his hands were dark compared to the rest of him, I guessed he had been there a while.
It took me a few days of quietly hiding and sleeping for three hours a night, plagued by nightmares of the dead barging in, of the fat man at Walmart among them, eyes dead, milky white, and predatory. I’ve made plenty of food runs but with winter firmly strangling the area and the last voices on the radio long since silenced, its been hard. I moved shelves to block the windows, and I sleep upstairs, but I still hear them, in every creak, every gust, every step, every breath.
I’m not going to make it much longer.