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| Dear Diary,
I'm getting lazy with you. I've started putting in less and less entrys
because less and less stuff is happening. Today, however, something
happened. We hosted a Zombie Hunt. We fired six flares into the air,
blared music in the field, and generally did everything we could to
draw Zombies to our position. Then, twenty guys (in teams of three)
with guns and machetes went out into the woods to see what Zombies they
could hunt down. The guys who got the largest Zombie won. And man, what
a fucking porker they dragged in. That team only killed four Zombies,
as opposed to twelve, like Marshmellow, Stick, and my Dad's team. But
this one they dragged in.. I'm not even sure how it moved around. I
mean, like, Zombies rot, right? Their muscles deteriorate, right? And
gigantic lardasses aren't really very physically able, anyway, right?
That pig weighed around 500 lbs. We had to haul it back in a truck.
The guys (representatives of the McGreavy Fortress) have already dumped
the corpse in the river, after taking a snapshot of them standing with
it. What baffles me, besides the physical impossibilities of that fat
Zombie, is why McGreavy didn't go on the hunt. It seemed right up his
alley.
France has released a report to every survivor
enclave with radio contacts on Earth - it's going to be at least a year
for America, another for Canada, Russia and the rest of Asia are last
in line. Apparently, the number of bullets, bombs, swords, and soldiers
in general possessed by the French are greatly outnumbered by the
billion-and-a-half Zombies still roaming Europe. They have factories
all over, and are producing guns and ammo at an insane rate to arm all
of the people they found in enclaves that they've liberated. To their
credit, they're doing a great job of clearing Europe. I worry that the
entire "Alliance Of Humanity" hoped for by the French won't be enough
to reclaim Asia. Siberia is definately going to remain a No Man's Land,
because there's no point in killing the Zombies out there, as they'll
never actually thaw out, so they can't attack us. However, the Chinese
Zombies will probably find France eventually, and that's like, three
billion shamblers, right there.
Ah, well, here's to Humanity, then. I managed to power the TV with our manual generator, and I watched Land Of The Dead. It sucked. Hard. I'm glad Romero's a Zombie now. Because Zombie's can't fucking think, or feel, or learn, goddamnit...
...Anyway, yeah. Life is good, albeit boring. Good night.
| | |
| Dear Diary,
I'm worried. I've lost track of the date, and nobody has a calender.
But that's the only thing I'm worried about. Get this, though - the
party got back on Tuesday, so I've been busy all week working on
getting them set up. Marshmellow and Stick finished their cabin, so a
couple of guys are staying there. A couple of guys are staying in our
house, too, but that's nothin' much. The party says they ran into
almost no Zombies on their journey, and they travelling in cars, so
that would attract a lot of them. They killed every single Zombie they
passed, too, just to make sure. I think we're absolutely safe. A couple
of us are gonna go out into the woods tomorrow and sweep for Zombies,
y'know, just for fun. As an extra bonus, the other survivors have so
much food that we'll be sated until spring. So, that's good. Our
military friends tell us that the bunker we're in contact with is under
siege by lots and lots of Zombies. Of course, they're fine, it's a
military-grade bunker with the remnants of the U.S. Army in it. They
also tell us that a big city (Manhattan, I think) has been reclaimed by
a huge coalition of humans from across the country. I think that's
brilliant - once we run out of supplies here, we just head up to
Manhattan. Or France. France, by the way, has actually started
spreading out through Western Europe, slowly reclaiming other
countries, and furthermore renaming them France. So, eventually, all of
Europe is going to be France. They've also started scouting over our
country, spotting the bigger Zombie mobs. Apparently, they're planning
to have the mobs bombed, and then bombed again, and then set upon by
helicopters, bombed, and then finally, a ground force sent in to tear
'em up. I can't wait for that - soon America's gonna be sort of
Free-ish, again. Just like we used to be.
Witty political commentary aside, not as many people
came with back to us as we expected. I mean, like, fifteen people came
back. So, yeah, more room, and less mouths to feed. Less men for
arming, though. Actually, I doubt we'll have to arm that many men,
because we're not anywhere near under attack by any means. We leave our
lights on at night, we play loud music, we make a lot of noise. We
rarely see a Zombie. Life is ass-kicking. I'm so glad to be alive, as
opposed to Undead.
I'm teaching myself guitar, out of boredom. It's
really actually pretty easy. I enjoy it, too, and I can't wait to get
not sucky. Speaking of boredom, Ashley radio'd us. They've almost
reached France, they say. And by "They" I mean Ashley and the sole
other survivor - the chick - because the guy died of some weird
disease, and they chucked him overboard. They say that they literally
have less than a week before they hit France. They also said they'd try
and find someone to come and airlift us, but that's not happening -
France is letting very few people in, for risk of infection. They were
the first to close their borders, why should they open them now?
We moved Ted's head from its little glass whatever
to a jar full of embalming fluid we found in the hospital's morgue, so
as to keep it alive for longer. Then, we sealed it tightly, and buried
it on an outcropping on the cliff. We'll dig him up when we leave.
Alas! I've gotta go help a couple of new people settle in to their new house.
| | |
| February 13th, 2005
Dear Diary,
First
off, holy shit I thought I lost you! That's why there've no been any
entries for a couple'a days - I misplaced you. Somehow, you were in my
laundry basket. Don't ask me.
Second
off, I've been misspelling "February" this whole time. Why didn't you
tell me? Dad finally pointed it out to me when he read you. So, I
suppose I should get to telling you what's been going on.
Well, first and foremost, the rescue party has been
stalled. They were caught in the blizzard and holed up in a small cabin
on the roadside. A cabin with two survivors in it. However, they're
snowed in the cabin, so no going and rescueing for them, yet. We've
been maintaining contact with the other coalition, who've named
themselves The Datton Remainder, and are doing just fine, thankfully.
No Zombies in sight.
Same goes for us - No Zombies at all. We even
sent out a couple of scouts (read: guys who happen to own winterproof
clothes) in hopes of dispatching a couple of frozen Zombies. No luck,
because there are no Zombies in the territory. At
all! The territory is maybe a six mile radius from the Last Bridge.
Yeah, the Bridge is a proper noun now, because it's so important.
There's the Last Bridge, there's Gatcombeton Resistance, there's Ted
The Zombie Head, and there's The Goldsen Fallback. Whee! We've got a
name! Oh, and the McGreavy Fortress, but I don't know anything about
them. They're pretty secretive in there. They've not left for days.
Some people think they've all died somehow, some people think they've
set about cultivating a small farm inside, via hydroponics. Nobody
knows.
Stick and Marshmellow are planning on building a
small house underneath ours, as an emergency hospital/barricade to
surround the rope ladder, if for whatever reason we can't pull it up.
And they're planning on staying in it sometimes, because a smaller
building is easier to heat, and our house is pretty cramped with all
this machinery and supplies filling it up. Speaking of supplies, we're
almost sort of running a bit low. We're down to our last two weeks
worth of MREs. For dad and I, I mean. The rest of the town is rather
fending for itself with food. Except for people with no food -
they eat whatever people give 'em. I can't wait for summer - or spring
- or whatever first thaw. We're gonna try and grow up some crops to
eat. If that fails, we're going to fence in, and thus reclaim - the
large field beyond the Last Bridge, and use it for farming. One day, we
may even get some barn animals - pigs, cows, etc. Can't wait to eat
real meat, again.
All radio from Ashley has ceased. We're not even
getting static from her radio station. I don't know what that means,
but I hope she's okay. Poor thing. Maybe she's wandering around on
foot. Maybe she's been killed. Maybe she's still floating about in her
boat. I wonder if the other two are still alive. Maybe they're all
shuffling, moaning husks of humanity now. Who knows? I certainly don't.
But, again, I hope they're okay. I'm gonna pretend that they got to
France, the last human country.
Man. It's my turn to pedal the manual generator that we're using to power our light. Peace, Love, And Life.
| | |
| Febuary 10th, 2005
Dear Diary,
We lost contact
with the guys going to get the other survivors, for about an hour. They
were just passing through a dense forest, but we were scared that whole
time. Dad figured it was just an interrupted signal, but everyone else
was freakin' out.
That coalition that looked like they were heading
our way, turned and went east, so, yeah. Good for us, I suppose. Yeah,
definately good, because we don't have enough ammo to fight off an army
of anything, much less humans. Zombies don't take cover, strategize,
dodge bullets, fall back, or give us reasons to take cover. Humans,
with guns, will retreat, regroup, lay down suppresing fire, advance,
use artillery, and destroy barricades. Zombies just kind'a lumber over
whatever's in the way, stumbling and falling and breaking. An army of
Zombies is easy to take down. An army of humans? No.
It's snowing, and everyone is dead silent, in their
shelters. There's no light on the horizon from the big city. There's no
sound of planes overhead. There's no engines roaring anywhere. The
world is ethereal and silent. Peaceful, in a way Earth hasn't been for
millions of years. I guess this outbreak did save the world, in a way.
Without six billion humans driving their huge cars, operating their
smog-factories, etc, there's no more really bad pollution. The radio is
silent, too, for now.
Speaking of the radio, we got a static-filled,
sobbing transmission from Ashley. It appears that the voyage is not
going well. One of the guys got bitten, and was left behind. One of the
girls killed herself because of ennui. So, three left, they're running
low on food, and all the ports they've passed are chock full of
groaning, shambling ghouls. She mentioned coming back, but they're
pretty lost, so if they find their way back, all the power to 'em. I
hope they do - I hate people I know being killed. I'm more hoping,
however, that I don't get killed. Being dead must suck.
Our army guys managed to contact some higher up
officials, holed up in bunkers, who were in turn in contact with
Europe, Asia, Canada, and South America. It's a dead world. Colonies
like ours, smaller and larger, dot all the maps on Earth, but at least
one is destroyed somehow, near-daily. Well, and France. France is still
majorly unscathed. We have almost no way of getting there, but we'll
try our damnedest, once we run too low on supplies.
The generator, too, is almost out of fuel. We've
switched to the manual one, and a small wind dynamo dad built, to power
everything but the heaters. The fossil fuel generator is powering the
heaters. Which is good, because it's freakin' really cold outside. I
can't help but wonder why we're not using the fireplace, though. Go
figure. I'd like to think that the Zombies are slowly freezing solid,
what with being unheated, unprotected corpses, and all. They'll
unfreeze once it gets warmer, but right now, we've got a break, I hope.
Nothin' to do now, but wait for the guys to get back with the other
survivors, and relax. We've won, for the most part. There's no Zombie
mob large enough to break us. In twenty years, or so, most of the
Zombies will have decomposed, and we'll go out and reclaim America.
I guess that's all, really. I'm gonna go warm up by the heater.
| | |
| Febuary 8th, 2005
Dear Diary,
That was easy. Very, very,
very easy. The killing-of-all-the-Zombies part, anyway. Now we're
cleaning up - dumping the bodies in the ocean. I'm getting worried that
there are so many bodies in the water that it'll get infected with
something or other.
And AS IF WE DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS, there's
another virus-thing breaking out amongst the soldiers. It's caused by
physical contact with others, and it causes gross, itchy rashes and
infections that look like ringworm. In-fucking-credible. We've only had
to quarantine about six men, but still. That's six less guns if
something other than Zombies come. Oh, I think it's called Impetigo, or
something. But whatever. I don't have it; it's not fatal; it's not
turning people into flesh eating monsters; it's quarantined. We're
okay. Everything's fine.
Except an outbreak of Impetigo, and the possibility of being attacked by other humans.
The scout chopper - on one of its last runs, apparently, because it's
running out of fuel - saw a group of men and women, all armed, on foot,
wandering around aimlessly. The reason we think they're hostile is that
A) they fired a shot at the copter and B) the copter reportedly saw one
of them shoot one of their own and move on. I think that the guy was
probably infected (a perfectly good reason to kill someone) and had
finally succumbed, so they shot him, and hurried on, knowing the sound
would attract zombies from miles around. The same goes for the shot at
the helicopter - helicopters are loud. But they shouldn't worry - there
aren't any more Zombies in the area, after this week's massacre.
Finally, the "rescue party" was dispatched to go
pick up the other survivors. We'll be maintaining radio contact the
entire time, and they'll be back in (hopefully) under a week. But you
never know what could happen out there.
Markus Goldsen, signing off.
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