What a day! First, I went back to that house where I heard the moans. I was fully loaded - assault rifle, pistols, swords... Went inside and found that he’d expired already. I think he’d been trapped inside after being turned and wasn’t able to escape. After that, it was just a matter of time. I hope we’re getting close to end of this mess. If the zombies die out then things might get a little more back to normal. Of course, that could have consequences I’m not sure I want to think about. I’ve done quite a few things that, lacking amnesty, could be seen in a very negative light.
On less depressing news, I hiked over to the amusement park. There were a couple of zombies milling around looking for shelter but otherwise it was quiet. Same thing at the Pepsi Center. It had been a shelter when the first outbreaks got widespread and sadly most of the people there died or were bitten and infected because of the situation. That’s when we were told to isolate ourselves. While that made it easier to control mass infection it also made it easier for the zombies to pick off the population, one house at a time.
The doors on the building were off the hinges and I didn’t dare go into the building. I remembered seeing the Harlem Globetrotters and lacrosse games there. Without power that place would be the perfect place for an entire horde of zombies to hide. A few vehicles were out front of the main doors that looked they’d been put there recently, but there were no signs of life from inside the building that I could see. Either someone had parked there and left or they’d gone in and not come out. In the interest of keeping my sanity and my ammunition a little longer, I wandered off toward downtown.
It was nice walking the relatively familiar streets. This was where I’d pretty much started my new hunting career. It was calm and the sun was shining. A little bright, even with my sunglasses, but the lack of breeze and the warming sun made it seem almost normal. I walked down past Coors Field and onto Broadway. There was a Catholic church at California and Broadway that my wife had performed at years ago. It was a nice church and the priest seemed like a good guy. I never agreed completely with what he preached, but I knew that he spoke from his heart, which was better than some in that field. She went on to sing elsewhere and we never went back. I always wondered what happened to the priest and his parishioners.
I walked down Broadway again, past the bar where the hunter had been killed and the Starbucks where that pair had fought off a pack. It was eerily quiet now. Crows had been picking at the corpses in both locations and I’m guessing that coyotes or foxes took a lot of the rest. I guess our anatomy is different enough that the virus can’t infect other kinds of animals. That’s a good thing, don’t get me wrong.
I stopped when I got to the capital. I pulled out my binoculars and looked around the park and the buildings. I couldn’t really see anything moving but I was going to be careful now that I was hoofing it. I’d walked a good two or three miles from my base camp. Trying to get back there followed by a horde of zombies was not a comforting thought. I walked back around and noticed some vehicles parked in one of the pay lots. They’d been there a while - probably since the whole fiasco started. One of them, though, was a Prius. And it reminded me that I should probably see about picking one up.
I headed back to base camp. On the way I noticed that the zombies milling around outside the amusement park had packed up and moved on. I wondered if they’d moved over to the Pepsi Center or not. I opted not to find out for now and completed my run. I needed to find a dealership and, sadly, my iPhone wasn’t working anymore. Damn zombie apocalypse.
I found a yellow pages in the building and looked up dealerships. There were several not that far away but none that were explicitly selling hybrid vehicles (electric was right out with no power). I packed up and headed out for the nearest ones.
It took only two dealerships to find hybrid - exactly the one I was seeking. It was in great condition and had a full tank of gas. I started it up and it was awesome - sleek, quiet, and my rifle fit perfectly in the passenger seat. I put my 9mms in the cup holders and drove around the neighborhood. I stumbled upon a zombie wandering a residential street. I rolled down the window - automatic! - and popped him from a block away. Took two rounds which, if I remember my Red Dawn correctly, would allow the Crow to locate my position. I just hoped no Native Americans were out looking for me.
My new ride comfortably set up and motoring around quietly I zipped back to base camp and parked it in the rear with my H3. I was amassing a little fleet of vehicles but this Prius was going to help me locate those guys to the south. It was getting dark, though, and I needed to make sure that I was fully rested before I went to tackle that. I barricaded myself in the lodge room, reloaded my M-16 clip and popped some Advil. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Tonight's entry - 26 October
I thought back to the first time I’d really experienced true terror. It was around Labor Day and things were starting to get weird. People had been getting sick and the government was being dodgy about answering direct questions. There had been some reports - mostly tweets and Facebook postings - about people going missing. About weird things happening in the cities.
We lived in the suburbs, about thirty minutes from Denver proper. A nice neighborhood with an elementary school across the street. Whenever I think about the real horror of this whole situation, it’s always about the kids that used to go to school there. But we weren’t discussing that - we were getting to my first experience with zombies.
It was late at night, probably close to eleven, and I was doing some laundry. I had been going up and down the stairs all night, putting laundry in the washer, moving to the dryer, taking it up to hang up in the closet. Just regular, mundane things. I was going back downstairs with the laundry basket to get the last load before bed when I opened the door and saw...
He must have been turned a while before he stumbled into my house. I’m guessing he broke a window to the basement and crawled inside. He was cut up pretty bad but, because of the infection, he didn’t bleed out much. Just a lot of scabs and dried blood all over him. His eyes were sunken in and jaundiced. His lip was sliced and I could see his teeth through the slit.
He was on the staircase at the top of stairs. I’d surprised him just as he was coming upstairs. Where I was. Where my family was - my wife, my daughter, my infant son.
He gurgled something incomprehensible and grabbed my t-shirt. My martial arts training kicked in and I lashed out at him, hitting him in the chin with the palm of my hand as hard as I could. I think he bit off part of his tongue and started bleeding again, this time over my shirt and the laundry basket. He tried to pull me closer, to bite me. I think the only thing really saving me was the laundry basket between us. I pushed against him and punched him in the face, breaking his nose. He loosened his grip slightly and backed away a little. The laundry basket dropped to the floor and I kneed him as hard as I could in the groin. He doubled over a little and I brought my knee up to his chin. I felt bone break and felt blood flow over my leg. He let go and I stepped back, assuming a front stance. It took only a second for my foot to come up and hit him squarely in the chest. He fell backward down the stairs, flailing as he dropped until he landed with a hard thud on the basement floor.
I slammed the door and ran upstairs. I could feel his blood all over me and I felt dirty and completely unclean. But I had to take care of this threat to my family first. I went to the den and saw the swords. We had been collectors of various kinds for a few years. We had two katana and short sword - all of them razor sharp. I sized them up quickly and decided that the short sword would work best for what had to be done.
My wife was screaming at me, asking me if I was okay. I grunted something, unsheathed the sword, and went back downstairs. I could hear him at the door, fumbling in the dark at the handle. I waited near the door, the sword held parallel to the ground. The door opened and I saw his hand push the door open. I moved swiftly in and stabbed him in the stomach. He growled in pain and turned to look at me. I could see that his face was covered in blood, but it was dried. I couldn’t quite connect how that was possible until later.
I pulled the sword out and moved backward toward the staircase, interposing myself between him and my family. I heard a gasp behind me and I turned for a second to see my wife standing at the top of stairs holding my son in her arms, a look of horror on her face. My daughter stood next to her and began to scream. I looked back and the zombie was reaching for me. I tried to step backward out of his reach but tripped on the bottom step, falling onto the staircase. He lunged at me and it was only dumb luck that I had pulled the sword closer to me. He impaled himself on the blade, the sharp edge sliding easily between his ribs, destroying his heart instantly.
He slumped over on me and it took an incredible effort to slide out from underneath him. The sword stuck out from between his shoulder blades and blood flowed over the handle onto the stairs. My daughter was hiding her face in my wife’s side and she looked on, aghast at the sight of me and the former undead. It didn’t take much talking after that to convince her to go to Laramie and out of harm’s way. She took the dogs and the cats. Her family has a cabin up in the Snowy Range mountains should worst come to worst. It lacks a lot of amenities but it’s a lot safer and it’s a long way from any kind of civilization. Her family built it back in the 1800s; if it was good enough then, it should be just fine now.
Three days after the attack in my house things went from bad to worse. Zombie attacks got more press. Twitter and Facebook were abuzz with people talking about their experiences. Missing person reports flooded the police stations. The government still wouldn’t come out with an answer or directions. “Stay home and stay protected” was about all anyone would say. Finally around the middle of September there was an attack in broad daylight on the 16th Street Mall. Some kids had been hanging out in an alley smoking when they were attacked. Three of them were killed and two were bitten.
Two days after that people decided to get the hell out of Dodge. And that same day Denver got hit by a massive snowstorm. The news was focused on the zombie threat and the military deployments. People ignored the warnings and tried to flee. They said that almost a million people died in the storm: from accidents, freezing to death in the snow, or from the zombies that found them when they tried to find shelter. After that the enclaves shut themselves away and the zombies started roaming free.
Strangely my wife didn’t have a problem with me staying. We talked about, about friends we had all over town that we wanted to make sure were safe. When I told her I was thinking of staying she said she already knew - knew before I did. I wish I could explain, but I can’t. It was the right thing. I saved a couple of neighbors, their daughter is a friend of my daughter. They were packing up their truck when they were attacked. It took me far too many bullets that day, but I took down the zombies. They were headed to South Dakota, they said - had family somewhere. I told them about my family going to Laramie. Maybe they changed their minds.
Phones and the internet went out pretty quickly. Without people to handle the power stations or fixed down lines or transformers, things tend to degrade fast. I think it was right about the beginning of football season when we ended up on our own. I’d heard about the richer, gated communities locking their doors. Some people had tried to approach and learned the hard way. Zombies didn’t get too close and eventually learned to just avoid the places. They still wandered around and some of the not-quite-sick-enough-to-be-full-on-zombies were still capable of regular tasks - driving and such. They would drive around until they fell too ill to continue and just leave their car wherever it was. Sometimes they’d smash into other things. Mostly they just made a mess of some of the roads. Hampden, for instance, was a total mess.
Some groups of teens began forming hunting parties to go look for zombies before the storm hit. Some of them were pretty successful, but most ended up getting in over their heads, a little too much bravado for their own good. When families packed up, most of the kids left too. A few remained, probably because their families had been turned.
The homeless were pretty much screwed from the get-go. They were the most vulnerable before things started and they ended up being the first ones to get attacked and turned or killed. I’ve always had a soft spot for the homeless and it was devastating to see what happened to them.
Enough reminiscing. For today I did some reconnaissance of the neighborhood. It’s mostly cleared out. I heard a few muffled moans in a house about ten blocks away, but overall it seems pretty safe here. I cleaned out the Hummer and packed everything into the lodge and then drove the SUV several blocks away and parked it on a street. If dreadlock boy or his hunter come looking for me, they’re going to have to put in some time. The sun was out as well, melting most of the snow. It would difficult to know I was there without tracking me from somewhere. I’m going to start my hunting tomorrow morning to see if I can find out what the hell is going on in that neighborhood.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning my guns and doing some reading. I find it almost ironic that now that the world’s turned upside down I feel like Burgess Meredith in that Twilight Zone episode where he’s just trying to read all the time. I’ve been reading a lot since things went south - at first most of them were books about the care and maintenance of guns but now that I’ve gotten proficient at that I’ve turned to more traditional books. I spent most of the afternoon just lounging on the couch from the side room reading The Iliad. It was almost normal.
We lived in the suburbs, about thirty minutes from Denver proper. A nice neighborhood with an elementary school across the street. Whenever I think about the real horror of this whole situation, it’s always about the kids that used to go to school there. But we weren’t discussing that - we were getting to my first experience with zombies.
It was late at night, probably close to eleven, and I was doing some laundry. I had been going up and down the stairs all night, putting laundry in the washer, moving to the dryer, taking it up to hang up in the closet. Just regular, mundane things. I was going back downstairs with the laundry basket to get the last load before bed when I opened the door and saw...
He must have been turned a while before he stumbled into my house. I’m guessing he broke a window to the basement and crawled inside. He was cut up pretty bad but, because of the infection, he didn’t bleed out much. Just a lot of scabs and dried blood all over him. His eyes were sunken in and jaundiced. His lip was sliced and I could see his teeth through the slit.
He was on the staircase at the top of stairs. I’d surprised him just as he was coming upstairs. Where I was. Where my family was - my wife, my daughter, my infant son.
He gurgled something incomprehensible and grabbed my t-shirt. My martial arts training kicked in and I lashed out at him, hitting him in the chin with the palm of my hand as hard as I could. I think he bit off part of his tongue and started bleeding again, this time over my shirt and the laundry basket. He tried to pull me closer, to bite me. I think the only thing really saving me was the laundry basket between us. I pushed against him and punched him in the face, breaking his nose. He loosened his grip slightly and backed away a little. The laundry basket dropped to the floor and I kneed him as hard as I could in the groin. He doubled over a little and I brought my knee up to his chin. I felt bone break and felt blood flow over my leg. He let go and I stepped back, assuming a front stance. It took only a second for my foot to come up and hit him squarely in the chest. He fell backward down the stairs, flailing as he dropped until he landed with a hard thud on the basement floor.
I slammed the door and ran upstairs. I could feel his blood all over me and I felt dirty and completely unclean. But I had to take care of this threat to my family first. I went to the den and saw the swords. We had been collectors of various kinds for a few years. We had two katana and short sword - all of them razor sharp. I sized them up quickly and decided that the short sword would work best for what had to be done.
My wife was screaming at me, asking me if I was okay. I grunted something, unsheathed the sword, and went back downstairs. I could hear him at the door, fumbling in the dark at the handle. I waited near the door, the sword held parallel to the ground. The door opened and I saw his hand push the door open. I moved swiftly in and stabbed him in the stomach. He growled in pain and turned to look at me. I could see that his face was covered in blood, but it was dried. I couldn’t quite connect how that was possible until later.
I pulled the sword out and moved backward toward the staircase, interposing myself between him and my family. I heard a gasp behind me and I turned for a second to see my wife standing at the top of stairs holding my son in her arms, a look of horror on her face. My daughter stood next to her and began to scream. I looked back and the zombie was reaching for me. I tried to step backward out of his reach but tripped on the bottom step, falling onto the staircase. He lunged at me and it was only dumb luck that I had pulled the sword closer to me. He impaled himself on the blade, the sharp edge sliding easily between his ribs, destroying his heart instantly.
He slumped over on me and it took an incredible effort to slide out from underneath him. The sword stuck out from between his shoulder blades and blood flowed over the handle onto the stairs. My daughter was hiding her face in my wife’s side and she looked on, aghast at the sight of me and the former undead. It didn’t take much talking after that to convince her to go to Laramie and out of harm’s way. She took the dogs and the cats. Her family has a cabin up in the Snowy Range mountains should worst come to worst. It lacks a lot of amenities but it’s a lot safer and it’s a long way from any kind of civilization. Her family built it back in the 1800s; if it was good enough then, it should be just fine now.
Three days after the attack in my house things went from bad to worse. Zombie attacks got more press. Twitter and Facebook were abuzz with people talking about their experiences. Missing person reports flooded the police stations. The government still wouldn’t come out with an answer or directions. “Stay home and stay protected” was about all anyone would say. Finally around the middle of September there was an attack in broad daylight on the 16th Street Mall. Some kids had been hanging out in an alley smoking when they were attacked. Three of them were killed and two were bitten.
Two days after that people decided to get the hell out of Dodge. And that same day Denver got hit by a massive snowstorm. The news was focused on the zombie threat and the military deployments. People ignored the warnings and tried to flee. They said that almost a million people died in the storm: from accidents, freezing to death in the snow, or from the zombies that found them when they tried to find shelter. After that the enclaves shut themselves away and the zombies started roaming free.
Strangely my wife didn’t have a problem with me staying. We talked about, about friends we had all over town that we wanted to make sure were safe. When I told her I was thinking of staying she said she already knew - knew before I did. I wish I could explain, but I can’t. It was the right thing. I saved a couple of neighbors, their daughter is a friend of my daughter. They were packing up their truck when they were attacked. It took me far too many bullets that day, but I took down the zombies. They were headed to South Dakota, they said - had family somewhere. I told them about my family going to Laramie. Maybe they changed their minds.
Phones and the internet went out pretty quickly. Without people to handle the power stations or fixed down lines or transformers, things tend to degrade fast. I think it was right about the beginning of football season when we ended up on our own. I’d heard about the richer, gated communities locking their doors. Some people had tried to approach and learned the hard way. Zombies didn’t get too close and eventually learned to just avoid the places. They still wandered around and some of the not-quite-sick-enough-to-be-full-on-zombies were still capable of regular tasks - driving and such. They would drive around until they fell too ill to continue and just leave their car wherever it was. Sometimes they’d smash into other things. Mostly they just made a mess of some of the roads. Hampden, for instance, was a total mess.
Some groups of teens began forming hunting parties to go look for zombies before the storm hit. Some of them were pretty successful, but most ended up getting in over their heads, a little too much bravado for their own good. When families packed up, most of the kids left too. A few remained, probably because their families had been turned.
The homeless were pretty much screwed from the get-go. They were the most vulnerable before things started and they ended up being the first ones to get attacked and turned or killed. I’ve always had a soft spot for the homeless and it was devastating to see what happened to them.
Enough reminiscing. For today I did some reconnaissance of the neighborhood. It’s mostly cleared out. I heard a few muffled moans in a house about ten blocks away, but overall it seems pretty safe here. I cleaned out the Hummer and packed everything into the lodge and then drove the SUV several blocks away and parked it on a street. If dreadlock boy or his hunter come looking for me, they’re going to have to put in some time. The sun was out as well, melting most of the snow. It would difficult to know I was there without tracking me from somewhere. I’m going to start my hunting tomorrow morning to see if I can find out what the hell is going on in that neighborhood.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning my guns and doing some reading. I find it almost ironic that now that the world’s turned upside down I feel like Burgess Meredith in that Twilight Zone episode where he’s just trying to read all the time. I’ve been reading a lot since things went south - at first most of them were books about the care and maintenance of guns but now that I’ve gotten proficient at that I’ve turned to more traditional books. I spent most of the afternoon just lounging on the couch from the side room reading The Iliad. It was almost normal.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Tonight's entry - 25 October
Oh my Lord. What a day yesterday. So much happened it feels like it was a week all jammed into a single day. I woke up relatively early and started getting everything packed up. I’m afraid that I might be getting a little too comfortable here. I hit a army surplus store toward the beginning of things and should be able to camp out pretty much anywhere. It’s been nice sleeping in a comfortable bed but I’m just wondering if I’m getting careless. Why? Because when I went downstairs today I found two zombies roaming around the coffee shop. I used my katana to behead them both (thankfully that does work) to avoid making too much noise but I saw a few more out on the street. I realized that I might be leaving a trail. So I bolted back upstairs and started packing.
The H3 was in the garage and it might be swarming with the undead. I grabbed my gear and headed out to the parking garage level (top floor, outside). I could hear some shuffling and gurgling noises from the lower levels but didn’t see anyone on the upper floors. There was a light dusting last night and I almost chuckled to think what it would be like to be a zombie in really cold temperatures - this could all be over by February if we got a good freeze. I sprinted for the H3 and then saw the tracks in the snow - at least three or four had been up here. I dropped my bag and unslung my M-16. I had taped two clips together for a faster reload but hoped I wouldn’t need more than a couple of shots.
I began to circle the Hummer and then I saw the first of them on the far side. He was slumped down next to the passenger wheel well and looked pretty bad - someone had smacked him with a baseball or something. One arm was broken badly and it looked like he was missing some teeth. I couldn’t see any others, so I took a chance at drawing them out. I lifted the rifle to my shoulder, sighted down on the zombie’s head, and tightened on the trigger.
The shot rang out and the report seemed louder than usual in the cold, crisp air. It was clean shot and he slumped over away from me onto the ground. That was when the other three made themselves known. One crawled out from under the H3 (nice trick, that - I’ll have to remember to check next time) and the other two from the back. I also heard some increased activity behind me down the exit ramp. I began thinking this might get tricky.
I was about fifteen yards away when I took down the first one. I quickly changed targets to the slowest of the targets - the zombie crawling from under the truck. I took aim and popped him, but it took two rounds to get a clean shot - the first hit his shoulder. The other zombies were now about five to ten yards away when I lifted the rifle and fired two quick shots into each of them, dropping them quickly. I could hear a lot of commotion behind me and turned to see about twenty zombies within about twenty yards coming toward me. I could see a large group behind that one and figured that yeah, this was going to be tricky.
I dropped to one knee and started shooting into the crowd carefully, trying to drop as many as I could as quickly as I could. I’d taken down about eight or nine when I heard the ominous click of an empty chamber. I reloaded as quickly as I could and realized that my bag was between me and them and they were closing quickly. I moved toward the bag, shooting as accurately as I could while sprinting. I slid on the ground into the bag as if it were home plate, fired an extended burst into the oncoming undead mob, and grabbed the bag, trying to get back to the Hummer. I didn’t realize, of course, that with the fresh snow I wouldn’t have a lot of traction. I slipped a lot and the remaining zombies got closer and closer. There were only a few left at this point, but I’d spent all my ammo.
I dropped on the ground on my back, pulled out my .45 and from only five to six feet away began taking pot shots at the closest ones. I nailed two in the head right away, shot another in the neck (he may actually bleed out before the coagulation kicks in fully - I just don’t know), and another two in the chest. I think those two were dead before they hit the asphalt. With the immediate threat taken care of (and very close for comfort), I grabbed the bag and bolted for the Hummer.
I fumbled with the keys a little trying to unlock it, but got it sorted out before the next group finally reached the vehicle. They began pounding on it, howling in frustration. I started up the truck and put it into gear. There was a bump followed by a sickening crunch. It was only later I realized that I must have driven over the one I killed under the truck.
I find myself, now in retrospect, berating myself. It took me over sixty-five rounds to kill twenty or so zombies. Those are bad numbers for my ammo. I may need to start looking at learning how to do my own reloads or something if I’m going to be chewing up ammunition that quickly. I made some mistakes, mistakes I can’t afford to make these days. I did get too comfy in that room, too complacent. And, worst of all, I’ve lost all of the security equipment that I had. It looks like it’s going to be empty cans and marbles until I can get some more stuff.
The rest of the parking garage was relatively empty. Looks like my gunfire had drawn them all to the roof, but the group that attacked the H3 was pretty big - at least fifty strong. I wondered if it was the pack from the residential area I stumbled onto yesterday following me back downtown. There was only one way to find out, so I started driving out to the suburbs to see what could be seen.
I found a church several blocks from where I’d seen the large pack yesterday and parked the Hummer outside. I spent a few minutes with the vehicle locked reloading the two clips I had. Then I grabbed another pair of clips and put them in my jacket. I opened the door, grabbed my binoculars and rifle, and stepped out into the cold air.
The ground around the church was relatively undisturbed. That likely meant that nothing had been wandering around, but it could still mean something was inside. I walked up the short flight of stairs to the open doors and peeked inside. I couldn’t see anything immediately in the pews in the main chapel, so I stepped in out of the open air and into the closed space.
Some snow had drifted inside, but I wasn’t able to see any disturbance, so it looked safe enough. I walked around the pews and found a few corpses laying on the ground or on the pews. Looks like they’d been here praying when they were attacked or died. The altar at the front had a still-open book upon it and Jesus looked down forlornly from the cross. If you only knew what had happened to your children, I thought. Maybe he did.
I found a door on the side that opened into the back area where the pastor or priest had his offices. I found a staircase going up - just what I’d been looking for. I decided to check the rest of the building before isolating myself on the roof. I checked through the offices and didn’t find anything beyond messy desks, a broken coffee pot that someone had left on the burner too long, and some ransacked drawers in a desk. I guessed that someone had been looking for the petty cash before they skipped town. Hunters didn’t care about cash - our currency was a whole lot different.
The rest of the building checked out. There was a door leading to a basement of some kind, but I didn’t venture downstairs. I slid the deadbolt on the door and then trekked back to the stairs. Going up into the steeple was a little tight with my gear, but I made up to a ladder that led to the roof. I slung my rifle and climbed the ladder, popped the roof cover, and climbed out next to the steeple.
The roof was covered in a dusting of snow and the gravel crunched under my boots as I got out and checked around. I could see quite a distance from up here, but the clouds of steam from my breath could potentially give me away to any errant zombies wandering the area. I puled my scarf up over my mouth and scanned the area. I couldn’t see anything moving other than a small pack of dogs, probably former house pets that had managed to avoid the zombies, and a few birds wheeling in the crisp air. I moved to the corner of the roof to get a good view of the neighborhood I’d been to earlier and brought the binoculars up.
I scanned the area and saw what looked like a growing pack of zombies. There were more there than yesterday. I couldn’t tell, but it looked like it had increased almost by half. There were a good seventy to eighty down there and those were the ones I could see. The houses blocking my view meant there could be another twenty to thirty more that I couldn’t see. Plus whatever might be in the houses out there.
I tried to see what might be causing them to congregate in the area but couldn’t really divine what was drawing and keeping them there. They weren’t going into the surrounding houses that I could see and they were moving a little slower due to the cold, but otherwise seemed to be ignoring the weather. Several of them clumped together, perhaps for warmth. They looked like they had fed recently but on what I couldn’t tell. Some had a few nasty wounds from something. Maybe a machete or even katana - I couldn’t really tell.
I dropped the binoculars and rechecked the street - everything seemed calm and quiet. I walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down at the Hummer - right where I’d left it and the only footprints in the snow were mine. I looked back at the neighborhood and saw a little commotion. I brought up the binoculars to get a closer look and saw someone - yes someone! - walking through the midst of them. The zombies were interested but not doing anything. It was a bizarre sight. I couldn’t really make out much but the person was white, had long dreads, and was wearing what looked like a BDU (battle dress uniform - military fatigues). He seemed to be dragging something very heavy which I couldn’t make out through the crowd surrounding him. Some of the zombies were clutching at his jacket and whatever it was he was dragging. He stopped, wiped his brow, and then walked away. The zombies moved closer, almost in a frenzy, and attacked whatever was on the ground. I saw flashes of blood and it looked like they were eating. I could see one of them tear something away and saw, clear as day, a foot. They were eating people! I don’t know if they were alive or dead when they were brought out, but it was definitely at least one person in that mass. Then I saw an arm - a too small arm. I about threw up then and there. I dropped the binoculars, dropped to my knees, and breathed in deeply, trying to clear the image from my mind. Whoever this sick fuck was was feeding the zombies. I didn’t know who he was or what he was doing, but I was going to make it my mission in life to make him the most miserable human being who ever walked the face of the earth. Compared to him, the zombies were compassionate. This bastard had to die. But I had to be careful. Here was someone who was apparently still in control of his faculties. Someone who could reason. And someone who was feeding people to the zombies.
I collected my gear and started back to the ladder. I opened the cover and looked down and saw them - four zombies milling around the base of the ladder, looking confused. Three men and a woman, the zombies were dressed up as if they’d been at a wedding. Maybe the men were groomsmen and the woman a bridesmaid, but all four looked up at me with a hunger in their eyes that shook me to the bone.
I pulled out my .45 and quickly sighted down on the first of them. BLAM! The report echoed and the zombie fell dead, most of the back of his head shattered on the floor. The other three looked startled by the shot and I took the opportunity to quickly fire three more times, dispatching all three in quick order. I stuck my head in the opening to see if there were any more in the hallway and felt more than heard the bullet pass where my head was a second before. Some son-of-a-bitch was shooting at me!
Realizing there wasn’t an option to do much from my vantage point - he had the bead on me and I had no idea where he was shooting from, I grabbed the inside and slipped the rest of my body inside.
I dropped to the floor and fell to a crouch, scanning the hallway quickly. I didn’t see anything else, so I bolted down the stairs, the M-16 bumping along the walls as I made my way down. I reached the main floor and stopped, listening for noises in the chapel. I didn’t hear anything, which made me wonder where the wedding party had originated. I surmised they must have been locked in the basement and worked their way up when they heard me walking around upstairs.
I slipped into the chapel and made my way to the door. The snow at the entrance was undisturbed except for my footprints from earlier. I looked out to see if anyone was coming but the street looked clear. I took a deep breath and bolted for the Hummer.
I heard some bullets smashing into the pillars behind me as I sprinted for the truck. Based on the number of rounds being fired it must have been a semi-automatic. I heard the reports almost a half-second after the bullets hit, marking the guy as about two hundred yards away. I slid down the last few steps, falling on my ass, and into the wheel on the Hummer. I think that might have saved my life as it seemed like he might have been getting closer with each shot.
But who was it? It couldn’t be a hunter - they wouldn’t shoot at another hunter, would they? And I moved too quickly to be a zombie, so it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity. Maybe it was dreadlock boy? Had he seen me on the roof? I couldn’t tell but knew that I was going to have to get away as quickly as possible.
I opened the door and reached inside, starting the vehicle. Bullets shattered the passenger window and I felt the safety glass bouncing off my jacket. There was a brief pause that I thought might be a reload. I hopped into the cab as quickly as possible and put the H3 in reverse. More bullets began pounding the back of the truck as I slipped it into drive as fast as I could and hit the accelerator. The Hummer’s wheels spun in the snow but it grabbed purchase after a second and took off. I was hunkered down in the seat as far as I could get but now sat up a little as I raced back to Denver.
I stayed on the main roads which were mostly clear and came up to Speer. I turned left and headed northwest past the performing arts complex. I saw the turnoff for I-25 but kept straight until I hit Federal. I turned right and went north until I came to the Highlands Masonic hall. I pulled up onto the grass in front of the building and hopped out.
I had been out here earlier, after the outbreak. Most everyone had cleared out and the snow was pristine - no one had been here since last night at least. I grabbed my gear from the back seat and ran up to the front door. I used a key I’d found and unlocked the door, pulling the giant door outward so I could get inside. I dropped my duffel, closed the door, and pushed turned the deadbolt. Then I collapsed on the floor.
When I woke up it was almost dark. I grabbed my stuff and did a quick once-through of the main floor. Kitchen, library, main room - all secured. There were too many windows on the main floor but the lodge upstairs had a couple of stout doors I would be able to barricade. They weren’t too terribly strong if it came to it, but they’d hold a while.
I went upstairs and set everything down. I barricaded the northern pair of doors and then sat down so I had a clear view of the southern set. The tiles downstairs would give me some warning if someone came in (and a breaking window would echo around so I could hear it). I pulled out my electric lantern and turned it up to a low light. The windows had thick coverings so no light would escape from here. I had planned on using this place as a refuge if I needed it - and apparently I needed it now.
I pulled out my pistols and ejected the clip on the .45. I dug in my bag, pulled out a box of ammo, and reloaded the clip. I put one in the chamber, giving me eight total. I checked all of my other weapons and things seemed in good order. Then I thought back to the events of the day.
I needed to find out who that guy was who was feeding the zombies and why they let him live. He didn’t seem to be a zombie himself nor did he seem to be in charge - just a caretaker of sorts. And he was sick. And he had to die. But he might be working for someone else who was even sicker and needed a bullet worse than dreadlocked boy.
And who was shooting at me? Someone with a rifle with a good scope. I managed to escape by the skin of my teeth on that one. He must have been south of me on Broadway. That could mean almost anything - there were a lot of businesses that lined that street and he could have been camping in any of them. I wouldn’t be able to go back there safely now. I’d need to find a new source of guns and ammo.
And why was he targeting me? I wasn’t much of a threat to anything but zombies. I hadn’t met many hunters, but the ones I had met seemed likable enough. At least they didn’t seem like they were trying to kill me. I had met a father-daughter team that worked really well together. I really hoped that they were still alive and had gone somewhere safe. She reminded me of my daughter. Or who my daughter might be in a few years when she was older.
As for today, I spent the day just hunkered down, getting some rest, and cleaning my weapons. I’m going to need to do some more reconnaissance of the area, but I think I’m going to need go in on foot rather than driving in. Or maybe I’ll pick up a Prius so I can avoid making too much noise. I’m not looking forward to it. The undead are one thing - the living are something else entirely.
Good night and stay safe out there.
The H3 was in the garage and it might be swarming with the undead. I grabbed my gear and headed out to the parking garage level (top floor, outside). I could hear some shuffling and gurgling noises from the lower levels but didn’t see anyone on the upper floors. There was a light dusting last night and I almost chuckled to think what it would be like to be a zombie in really cold temperatures - this could all be over by February if we got a good freeze. I sprinted for the H3 and then saw the tracks in the snow - at least three or four had been up here. I dropped my bag and unslung my M-16. I had taped two clips together for a faster reload but hoped I wouldn’t need more than a couple of shots.
I began to circle the Hummer and then I saw the first of them on the far side. He was slumped down next to the passenger wheel well and looked pretty bad - someone had smacked him with a baseball or something. One arm was broken badly and it looked like he was missing some teeth. I couldn’t see any others, so I took a chance at drawing them out. I lifted the rifle to my shoulder, sighted down on the zombie’s head, and tightened on the trigger.
The shot rang out and the report seemed louder than usual in the cold, crisp air. It was clean shot and he slumped over away from me onto the ground. That was when the other three made themselves known. One crawled out from under the H3 (nice trick, that - I’ll have to remember to check next time) and the other two from the back. I also heard some increased activity behind me down the exit ramp. I began thinking this might get tricky.
I was about fifteen yards away when I took down the first one. I quickly changed targets to the slowest of the targets - the zombie crawling from under the truck. I took aim and popped him, but it took two rounds to get a clean shot - the first hit his shoulder. The other zombies were now about five to ten yards away when I lifted the rifle and fired two quick shots into each of them, dropping them quickly. I could hear a lot of commotion behind me and turned to see about twenty zombies within about twenty yards coming toward me. I could see a large group behind that one and figured that yeah, this was going to be tricky.
I dropped to one knee and started shooting into the crowd carefully, trying to drop as many as I could as quickly as I could. I’d taken down about eight or nine when I heard the ominous click of an empty chamber. I reloaded as quickly as I could and realized that my bag was between me and them and they were closing quickly. I moved toward the bag, shooting as accurately as I could while sprinting. I slid on the ground into the bag as if it were home plate, fired an extended burst into the oncoming undead mob, and grabbed the bag, trying to get back to the Hummer. I didn’t realize, of course, that with the fresh snow I wouldn’t have a lot of traction. I slipped a lot and the remaining zombies got closer and closer. There were only a few left at this point, but I’d spent all my ammo.
I dropped on the ground on my back, pulled out my .45 and from only five to six feet away began taking pot shots at the closest ones. I nailed two in the head right away, shot another in the neck (he may actually bleed out before the coagulation kicks in fully - I just don’t know), and another two in the chest. I think those two were dead before they hit the asphalt. With the immediate threat taken care of (and very close for comfort), I grabbed the bag and bolted for the Hummer.
I fumbled with the keys a little trying to unlock it, but got it sorted out before the next group finally reached the vehicle. They began pounding on it, howling in frustration. I started up the truck and put it into gear. There was a bump followed by a sickening crunch. It was only later I realized that I must have driven over the one I killed under the truck.
I find myself, now in retrospect, berating myself. It took me over sixty-five rounds to kill twenty or so zombies. Those are bad numbers for my ammo. I may need to start looking at learning how to do my own reloads or something if I’m going to be chewing up ammunition that quickly. I made some mistakes, mistakes I can’t afford to make these days. I did get too comfy in that room, too complacent. And, worst of all, I’ve lost all of the security equipment that I had. It looks like it’s going to be empty cans and marbles until I can get some more stuff.
The rest of the parking garage was relatively empty. Looks like my gunfire had drawn them all to the roof, but the group that attacked the H3 was pretty big - at least fifty strong. I wondered if it was the pack from the residential area I stumbled onto yesterday following me back downtown. There was only one way to find out, so I started driving out to the suburbs to see what could be seen.
I found a church several blocks from where I’d seen the large pack yesterday and parked the Hummer outside. I spent a few minutes with the vehicle locked reloading the two clips I had. Then I grabbed another pair of clips and put them in my jacket. I opened the door, grabbed my binoculars and rifle, and stepped out into the cold air.
The ground around the church was relatively undisturbed. That likely meant that nothing had been wandering around, but it could still mean something was inside. I walked up the short flight of stairs to the open doors and peeked inside. I couldn’t see anything immediately in the pews in the main chapel, so I stepped in out of the open air and into the closed space.
Some snow had drifted inside, but I wasn’t able to see any disturbance, so it looked safe enough. I walked around the pews and found a few corpses laying on the ground or on the pews. Looks like they’d been here praying when they were attacked or died. The altar at the front had a still-open book upon it and Jesus looked down forlornly from the cross. If you only knew what had happened to your children, I thought. Maybe he did.
I found a door on the side that opened into the back area where the pastor or priest had his offices. I found a staircase going up - just what I’d been looking for. I decided to check the rest of the building before isolating myself on the roof. I checked through the offices and didn’t find anything beyond messy desks, a broken coffee pot that someone had left on the burner too long, and some ransacked drawers in a desk. I guessed that someone had been looking for the petty cash before they skipped town. Hunters didn’t care about cash - our currency was a whole lot different.
The rest of the building checked out. There was a door leading to a basement of some kind, but I didn’t venture downstairs. I slid the deadbolt on the door and then trekked back to the stairs. Going up into the steeple was a little tight with my gear, but I made up to a ladder that led to the roof. I slung my rifle and climbed the ladder, popped the roof cover, and climbed out next to the steeple.
The roof was covered in a dusting of snow and the gravel crunched under my boots as I got out and checked around. I could see quite a distance from up here, but the clouds of steam from my breath could potentially give me away to any errant zombies wandering the area. I puled my scarf up over my mouth and scanned the area. I couldn’t see anything moving other than a small pack of dogs, probably former house pets that had managed to avoid the zombies, and a few birds wheeling in the crisp air. I moved to the corner of the roof to get a good view of the neighborhood I’d been to earlier and brought the binoculars up.
I scanned the area and saw what looked like a growing pack of zombies. There were more there than yesterday. I couldn’t tell, but it looked like it had increased almost by half. There were a good seventy to eighty down there and those were the ones I could see. The houses blocking my view meant there could be another twenty to thirty more that I couldn’t see. Plus whatever might be in the houses out there.
I tried to see what might be causing them to congregate in the area but couldn’t really divine what was drawing and keeping them there. They weren’t going into the surrounding houses that I could see and they were moving a little slower due to the cold, but otherwise seemed to be ignoring the weather. Several of them clumped together, perhaps for warmth. They looked like they had fed recently but on what I couldn’t tell. Some had a few nasty wounds from something. Maybe a machete or even katana - I couldn’t really tell.
I dropped the binoculars and rechecked the street - everything seemed calm and quiet. I walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down at the Hummer - right where I’d left it and the only footprints in the snow were mine. I looked back at the neighborhood and saw a little commotion. I brought up the binoculars to get a closer look and saw someone - yes someone! - walking through the midst of them. The zombies were interested but not doing anything. It was a bizarre sight. I couldn’t really make out much but the person was white, had long dreads, and was wearing what looked like a BDU (battle dress uniform - military fatigues). He seemed to be dragging something very heavy which I couldn’t make out through the crowd surrounding him. Some of the zombies were clutching at his jacket and whatever it was he was dragging. He stopped, wiped his brow, and then walked away. The zombies moved closer, almost in a frenzy, and attacked whatever was on the ground. I saw flashes of blood and it looked like they were eating. I could see one of them tear something away and saw, clear as day, a foot. They were eating people! I don’t know if they were alive or dead when they were brought out, but it was definitely at least one person in that mass. Then I saw an arm - a too small arm. I about threw up then and there. I dropped the binoculars, dropped to my knees, and breathed in deeply, trying to clear the image from my mind. Whoever this sick fuck was was feeding the zombies. I didn’t know who he was or what he was doing, but I was going to make it my mission in life to make him the most miserable human being who ever walked the face of the earth. Compared to him, the zombies were compassionate. This bastard had to die. But I had to be careful. Here was someone who was apparently still in control of his faculties. Someone who could reason. And someone who was feeding people to the zombies.
I collected my gear and started back to the ladder. I opened the cover and looked down and saw them - four zombies milling around the base of the ladder, looking confused. Three men and a woman, the zombies were dressed up as if they’d been at a wedding. Maybe the men were groomsmen and the woman a bridesmaid, but all four looked up at me with a hunger in their eyes that shook me to the bone.
I pulled out my .45 and quickly sighted down on the first of them. BLAM! The report echoed and the zombie fell dead, most of the back of his head shattered on the floor. The other three looked startled by the shot and I took the opportunity to quickly fire three more times, dispatching all three in quick order. I stuck my head in the opening to see if there were any more in the hallway and felt more than heard the bullet pass where my head was a second before. Some son-of-a-bitch was shooting at me!
Realizing there wasn’t an option to do much from my vantage point - he had the bead on me and I had no idea where he was shooting from, I grabbed the inside and slipped the rest of my body inside.
I dropped to the floor and fell to a crouch, scanning the hallway quickly. I didn’t see anything else, so I bolted down the stairs, the M-16 bumping along the walls as I made my way down. I reached the main floor and stopped, listening for noises in the chapel. I didn’t hear anything, which made me wonder where the wedding party had originated. I surmised they must have been locked in the basement and worked their way up when they heard me walking around upstairs.
I slipped into the chapel and made my way to the door. The snow at the entrance was undisturbed except for my footprints from earlier. I looked out to see if anyone was coming but the street looked clear. I took a deep breath and bolted for the Hummer.
I heard some bullets smashing into the pillars behind me as I sprinted for the truck. Based on the number of rounds being fired it must have been a semi-automatic. I heard the reports almost a half-second after the bullets hit, marking the guy as about two hundred yards away. I slid down the last few steps, falling on my ass, and into the wheel on the Hummer. I think that might have saved my life as it seemed like he might have been getting closer with each shot.
But who was it? It couldn’t be a hunter - they wouldn’t shoot at another hunter, would they? And I moved too quickly to be a zombie, so it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity. Maybe it was dreadlock boy? Had he seen me on the roof? I couldn’t tell but knew that I was going to have to get away as quickly as possible.
I opened the door and reached inside, starting the vehicle. Bullets shattered the passenger window and I felt the safety glass bouncing off my jacket. There was a brief pause that I thought might be a reload. I hopped into the cab as quickly as possible and put the H3 in reverse. More bullets began pounding the back of the truck as I slipped it into drive as fast as I could and hit the accelerator. The Hummer’s wheels spun in the snow but it grabbed purchase after a second and took off. I was hunkered down in the seat as far as I could get but now sat up a little as I raced back to Denver.
I stayed on the main roads which were mostly clear and came up to Speer. I turned left and headed northwest past the performing arts complex. I saw the turnoff for I-25 but kept straight until I hit Federal. I turned right and went north until I came to the Highlands Masonic hall. I pulled up onto the grass in front of the building and hopped out.
I had been out here earlier, after the outbreak. Most everyone had cleared out and the snow was pristine - no one had been here since last night at least. I grabbed my gear from the back seat and ran up to the front door. I used a key I’d found and unlocked the door, pulling the giant door outward so I could get inside. I dropped my duffel, closed the door, and pushed turned the deadbolt. Then I collapsed on the floor.
When I woke up it was almost dark. I grabbed my stuff and did a quick once-through of the main floor. Kitchen, library, main room - all secured. There were too many windows on the main floor but the lodge upstairs had a couple of stout doors I would be able to barricade. They weren’t too terribly strong if it came to it, but they’d hold a while.
I went upstairs and set everything down. I barricaded the northern pair of doors and then sat down so I had a clear view of the southern set. The tiles downstairs would give me some warning if someone came in (and a breaking window would echo around so I could hear it). I pulled out my electric lantern and turned it up to a low light. The windows had thick coverings so no light would escape from here. I had planned on using this place as a refuge if I needed it - and apparently I needed it now.
I pulled out my pistols and ejected the clip on the .45. I dug in my bag, pulled out a box of ammo, and reloaded the clip. I put one in the chamber, giving me eight total. I checked all of my other weapons and things seemed in good order. Then I thought back to the events of the day.
I needed to find out who that guy was who was feeding the zombies and why they let him live. He didn’t seem to be a zombie himself nor did he seem to be in charge - just a caretaker of sorts. And he was sick. And he had to die. But he might be working for someone else who was even sicker and needed a bullet worse than dreadlocked boy.
And who was shooting at me? Someone with a rifle with a good scope. I managed to escape by the skin of my teeth on that one. He must have been south of me on Broadway. That could mean almost anything - there were a lot of businesses that lined that street and he could have been camping in any of them. I wouldn’t be able to go back there safely now. I’d need to find a new source of guns and ammo.
And why was he targeting me? I wasn’t much of a threat to anything but zombies. I hadn’t met many hunters, but the ones I had met seemed likable enough. At least they didn’t seem like they were trying to kill me. I had met a father-daughter team that worked really well together. I really hoped that they were still alive and had gone somewhere safe. She reminded me of my daughter. Or who my daughter might be in a few years when she was older.
As for today, I spent the day just hunkered down, getting some rest, and cleaning my weapons. I’m going to need to do some more reconnaissance of the area, but I think I’m going to need go in on foot rather than driving in. Or maybe I’ll pick up a Prius so I can avoid making too much noise. I’m not looking forward to it. The undead are one thing - the living are something else entirely.
Good night and stay safe out there.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Tonight's entry - 24 October
Way too much happened today. Just exhausted. Must sleep. Will catch up tomorrow...
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Tonight's entry - 23 October
Went down the wrong road today. I was driving along Broadway headed back to the gun shop when I took a right turn to go down a familiar street. I’m not sure what I was looking for - maybe just some sign of semi-normalcy. Maybe that the neighborhood had survived the worst. Instead I found... well, I found out where the zombies are these days. They’re staying more in the residential areas of the city. I came upon a pack - must have been around eighty or ninety. They were sort of camped out around a house. I’m not sure if they were looking for someone inside or if there was some other reason to be there. They heard the H3 long before I made the turn and they were moving toward me when I hit the brakes. It was all I could do to get the Hummer in reverse and back the hell out of there. I wonder if we hunters are doing too well in the city and this is the next big group to take down or if they’ve left the cities the same way the regular people did. That things in the city are too tough with the hunters and now they’ve moved out the ‘burbs to escape the trouble we cause. I got back on the main road and decided to try to find someone else, anyone else, to talk to and see if I’m crazy or if this is something we should be concerned about.
I drove around but didn’t see or hear anyone on the streets. It’s almost like I’m the only hunter left here, which can’t be true. There was that group that got attacked last night. And the guy three nights ago. Or was it four? But it’s weird being the only one around.
If I hadn’t been so surprised by finding such a huge group I might have tried to take out a few before bolting out of there. I think I’m going to need to do some reconnaissance and see what’s going on out there. It’s harder to hide my location if I start shooting, though - there aren’t the same hard surfaces as downtown.
I did find where those hunters were camped. Looks like they did get out and took out a fair bunch of the undead. Probably thirty corpses in the street. I’m not sure where they went but there wasn’t any sign of them - just a lot of spent brass on the tile of the Starbucks. Maybe they slipped out the back and high-tailed it out of there after wasting a few of them. I know the zombies didn’t get them because there weren’t any guns lying around. Unless the zombies have decided to arm themselves now, I think the hunters got out. Maybe they took the same advice I’ve given to others and went north.
I just hope my family’s okay. They left before things got really bad and before the snowstorm, so I think they made it okay. I may need to look at heading up there once I take care of that large pack. Tomorrow I’ll start doing recon of the pack and see what it looks like. I’ll need to find a place to camp out that has good visibility but is relatively safe. I’ve become too dependent on technology that no longer works - I used to use the GPS and maps application on my phone to get all of this information. So sad that I spent hundreds of dollars on a useless piece of plastic and metal. For now at least. I can get a street map from a gas station but it’s the satellite image that I’m going to miss the most. Here’s hoping that I can find some good places based on that. Cheers!
I did almost forget one of the best parts of this whole thing. I like scotch - a lot. Not alcoholic a lot but I definitely enjoy a dram every now and again. It sure is a lot cheaper now than it used to be, let me tell you. At present I’m consuming a bottle of twenty-five year old Glenlivet. It will make me a little slower on the draw, but I think I’m safe where I am.
Speaking of safe, I did add some alarms to make sure I stay safe here. I can’t stay in this room forever - I’m afraid I’ll get too comfortable and careless. After finding the pack I went back to the store and grabbed a ton of batteries and then hit a security store to grab some wireless cameras. I’ve got enough for this week, probably. That will probably be my cue to go north. I’ve got some cameras outside the fire escape downstairs to make sure that no one stumbles onto the doors and then a camera at the end of the hallway of the floor I’m on as well. I also put an IR beam sensor on the door to alarm if the door opens. I had to jerry-rig the power supply, but it seems to be working. And looking over at the monitor showing the feeds, things look quiet. I may actually sleep well tonight.
So I guess that's it for the evening. Good night and stay safe out there.
I drove around but didn’t see or hear anyone on the streets. It’s almost like I’m the only hunter left here, which can’t be true. There was that group that got attacked last night. And the guy three nights ago. Or was it four? But it’s weird being the only one around.
If I hadn’t been so surprised by finding such a huge group I might have tried to take out a few before bolting out of there. I think I’m going to need to do some reconnaissance and see what’s going on out there. It’s harder to hide my location if I start shooting, though - there aren’t the same hard surfaces as downtown.
I did find where those hunters were camped. Looks like they did get out and took out a fair bunch of the undead. Probably thirty corpses in the street. I’m not sure where they went but there wasn’t any sign of them - just a lot of spent brass on the tile of the Starbucks. Maybe they slipped out the back and high-tailed it out of there after wasting a few of them. I know the zombies didn’t get them because there weren’t any guns lying around. Unless the zombies have decided to arm themselves now, I think the hunters got out. Maybe they took the same advice I’ve given to others and went north.
I just hope my family’s okay. They left before things got really bad and before the snowstorm, so I think they made it okay. I may need to look at heading up there once I take care of that large pack. Tomorrow I’ll start doing recon of the pack and see what it looks like. I’ll need to find a place to camp out that has good visibility but is relatively safe. I’ve become too dependent on technology that no longer works - I used to use the GPS and maps application on my phone to get all of this information. So sad that I spent hundreds of dollars on a useless piece of plastic and metal. For now at least. I can get a street map from a gas station but it’s the satellite image that I’m going to miss the most. Here’s hoping that I can find some good places based on that. Cheers!
I did almost forget one of the best parts of this whole thing. I like scotch - a lot. Not alcoholic a lot but I definitely enjoy a dram every now and again. It sure is a lot cheaper now than it used to be, let me tell you. At present I’m consuming a bottle of twenty-five year old Glenlivet. It will make me a little slower on the draw, but I think I’m safe where I am.
Speaking of safe, I did add some alarms to make sure I stay safe here. I can’t stay in this room forever - I’m afraid I’ll get too comfortable and careless. After finding the pack I went back to the store and grabbed a ton of batteries and then hit a security store to grab some wireless cameras. I’ve got enough for this week, probably. That will probably be my cue to go north. I’ve got some cameras outside the fire escape downstairs to make sure that no one stumbles onto the doors and then a camera at the end of the hallway of the floor I’m on as well. I also put an IR beam sensor on the door to alarm if the door opens. I had to jerry-rig the power supply, but it seems to be working. And looking over at the monitor showing the feeds, things look quiet. I may actually sleep well tonight.
So I guess that's it for the evening. Good night and stay safe out there.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Tonight's entry - 22 October
Good trip today. I hit a guns and ammo shop on Broadway and walked out with several boxes of ammo for each of my weapons. A good haul and surprising given how likely it is that there are a lot of other hunters out there doing the same thing. I also hit a Safeway and grabbed some canned food. Most of the shelves were empty, but there was an unopened case of ramen and a few cases of soup in the loading area. I loaded up the H3 and came back downtown. Oh yeah - I should probably talk about my new ride.
I’ve always been surprised in the zombie movies how people just stay in the same beat-up vehicles they had when the mess started. Are you kidding me? First thing I did was go to a dealership, grab a new H3 (no one was going to miss it) and headed to a gas station. Yeah, it’s shitty on gas mileage, but it’s heavy, it’s got good protection, and it looks cool. It also holds a crap-load of stuff. I’m able to haul away a lot of stuff in that. The roads aren’t all that impassable - a lot of people tried to leave the city when things started to go from bad to god-awful but we had an early blizzard that blocked most of the highways. That meant that people were stranded outside the city and the city itself was pretty cleared out. Good for me and the other hunters.
I also went up the capitol building today. The doors were busted off the hinges - looks like someone really wanted to get inside. Actually, I think the only building that’s been completely untouched is the mint. It’s not like the zombies can get into it, but I’m surprised someone a little less scrupulous hasn’t taken some dynamite and blown a hole in the wall. But back to the capitol. I went inside and looked around a little on the main floor, but it was mostly strewn with paper and leaves. There might be a pack hiding in there somewhere, but I know most government buildings have a warren of sub-basements and offices tucked in bizarre places that it’s too dangerous to clean it out. I might camp out some night and wait for the pack to emerge and take them from a distance. One nice thing about shooting downtown is that all of the buildings echo the report so it’s hard to tell exactly where it’s coming from, and that’s if your brain’s working properly. When you’re a half-fried zombie, it’s impossible. I’ve capped a whole pack of thirteen zombies from two blocks away and they never knew where it was coming from.
It’s hard to tell just how many are left. Their numbers are dwindling as the hunters take their tolls. But the zombies get their wins too. I found that guy who was shooting two nights ago. He’d been found by a pack, a big one. Must have been over fifty because twenty were dead outside the bar he was hiding in. There wasn’t a lot left of him and I think the pack actually split up afterwards which seems weird. There’s something else too. I think they may actually be eating now. It used to be they’d kill someone and then move on but there wasn’t much left of this guy. I guess a few weeks may drive even the half-fried to extremes of hunger. Everything else was cleaned out, too - the freezers, bakery racks, everything. I’m wondering how much of a change in the overall dynamic this means. Am I facing a stronger pack now that they’re eating? My gut tells me it’s going to be harder now.
I didn’t actually see any zombies today, though. I wonder if we’re arriving at some kind of detente. The hunters go out in the day, the zombies at night. Is this the beginning of some new chapter in our acrimonious relationship?
More gunfire. Closer this time. I looked out the window but couldn’t see anything. Sounded like more than one gun, so it could be a pair of hunters. I think they’re likely to survive the night, but it makes me wonder if everything here is so safe. I may need to rig up some additional alarms on the fire escapes and the doors. Maybe set some traps in some of the other rooms.
There’s something surreal about sitting in a hotel room ten floors from street level hearing gunfire outside your window. Wondering if you’re hearing something breaking through the door at the far end of the hall. Something now shuffling down the hallway, looking for lights under the door, listening for breathing or anything else that would give you away. Hands pressed against your door, pushing against it to open it and come get you. I need to stop this - my imagination’s getting the better of me right now.
Gunfire’s ended. Hope you got ‘em, boys.
I’ve always been surprised in the zombie movies how people just stay in the same beat-up vehicles they had when the mess started. Are you kidding me? First thing I did was go to a dealership, grab a new H3 (no one was going to miss it) and headed to a gas station. Yeah, it’s shitty on gas mileage, but it’s heavy, it’s got good protection, and it looks cool. It also holds a crap-load of stuff. I’m able to haul away a lot of stuff in that. The roads aren’t all that impassable - a lot of people tried to leave the city when things started to go from bad to god-awful but we had an early blizzard that blocked most of the highways. That meant that people were stranded outside the city and the city itself was pretty cleared out. Good for me and the other hunters.
I also went up the capitol building today. The doors were busted off the hinges - looks like someone really wanted to get inside. Actually, I think the only building that’s been completely untouched is the mint. It’s not like the zombies can get into it, but I’m surprised someone a little less scrupulous hasn’t taken some dynamite and blown a hole in the wall. But back to the capitol. I went inside and looked around a little on the main floor, but it was mostly strewn with paper and leaves. There might be a pack hiding in there somewhere, but I know most government buildings have a warren of sub-basements and offices tucked in bizarre places that it’s too dangerous to clean it out. I might camp out some night and wait for the pack to emerge and take them from a distance. One nice thing about shooting downtown is that all of the buildings echo the report so it’s hard to tell exactly where it’s coming from, and that’s if your brain’s working properly. When you’re a half-fried zombie, it’s impossible. I’ve capped a whole pack of thirteen zombies from two blocks away and they never knew where it was coming from.
It’s hard to tell just how many are left. Their numbers are dwindling as the hunters take their tolls. But the zombies get their wins too. I found that guy who was shooting two nights ago. He’d been found by a pack, a big one. Must have been over fifty because twenty were dead outside the bar he was hiding in. There wasn’t a lot left of him and I think the pack actually split up afterwards which seems weird. There’s something else too. I think they may actually be eating now. It used to be they’d kill someone and then move on but there wasn’t much left of this guy. I guess a few weeks may drive even the half-fried to extremes of hunger. Everything else was cleaned out, too - the freezers, bakery racks, everything. I’m wondering how much of a change in the overall dynamic this means. Am I facing a stronger pack now that they’re eating? My gut tells me it’s going to be harder now.
I didn’t actually see any zombies today, though. I wonder if we’re arriving at some kind of detente. The hunters go out in the day, the zombies at night. Is this the beginning of some new chapter in our acrimonious relationship?
More gunfire. Closer this time. I looked out the window but couldn’t see anything. Sounded like more than one gun, so it could be a pair of hunters. I think they’re likely to survive the night, but it makes me wonder if everything here is so safe. I may need to rig up some additional alarms on the fire escapes and the doors. Maybe set some traps in some of the other rooms.
There’s something surreal about sitting in a hotel room ten floors from street level hearing gunfire outside your window. Wondering if you’re hearing something breaking through the door at the far end of the hall. Something now shuffling down the hallway, looking for lights under the door, listening for breathing or anything else that would give you away. Hands pressed against your door, pushing against it to open it and come get you. I need to stop this - my imagination’s getting the better of me right now.
Gunfire’s ended. Hope you got ‘em, boys.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Tonight's entry - 21 October
Where was I? Oh, yeah - the beginning.
There were protests. Things had been going on for several weeks but then the protests had gone wrong, terribly wrong. I don’t know what happened - I had just been paying the merest attention to it. People were upset and protesting. It seemed peaceful. I hadn’t heard anything that seemed to be out of the ordinary. But then something started. A pepper-spraying incident had been caught on video and gone viral. The police started taking a harder stance on the protests. Protesters fought back. Some anarchists joined the fray and suddenly the protests got more violent. I think that was when the grandmother got killed. Some seventy-eight year old grandmother attending the protests with her grandkids. The police and the media jumped all over her saying she was endangering her grandchildren’s lives. The protesters claimed the cops had been violent and overreacted. It degenerated from there. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Tear gas came out next and then something else. No one really knew what was going on but suddenly a lot of people got really sick. Hospitalized sick. And then crazy, zombie sick. Some of them escaped the hospitals and rampaged. Whatever it was, it acted like the infections in the zombie movies - you got bit, you got infected, you became one of them. Lots of people ended up back in the hospital only to attack hospital staff and escape again to grow the infection. I guess it could be exponential or geometric growth or something. I’m not entirely sure what the math would be, but it spread faster than it seemed possible.
The president invoked martial law, created a curfew, called out the troops with the assistance of the governors. It didn’t seem to help all that much. People got caught in their homes after curfew by the zombies and killed or turned. Gun sales spiked and then were halted. Troops patrolled the streets and tried to capture or kill the zombies they found. But it was the “still mostly human” ones that got away. They still had some semblance of reasoning and hid. But then they’d get hungry or crazed and come out. “Mostly at night. Mostly,” like Newt said. And they’d catch a few more people, turn them. In the end I think the government decided to just barricade themselves behind walls. The president and congress are in some bunker, probably the one in the Appalachians. Or wherever it is they made the new one.
Regular people were left on their own. The high-end communities where I lived brought in truckloads of security guards, guns, ammo, water, and food and hunkered down. The top one percent decided to shut themselves off completely. I think they’re waiting for the end to arrive, like in 28 Days Later. “If we can just wait until they die off, we can reclaim the country and get back to normal.” At least that what I think they’re thinking. For everyone else, though - good luck.
I sent my family away to Wyoming. There are too few people there for anything to spread too far and too many guns to let it persist. There’s something about the cowboy mentality that still exists there. Hunter safety classes are required for schoolchildren. Pretty much everyone knows how to use a gun by the time they’re ten. And in this world, right now, that’s a good thing. We have family there and before things got too bad we heard that they were still normal up there. Well, as normal as can be when half the country is dead or going insane with zombie fever.
I haven’t heard from them in over a month. It’s been that long since the power went down. All the enclaves have their own generators, so there’s no need for power anywhere else. Why do zombies care whether the lights are on or not? It just matters to those of us who stayed to try to protect the ones that couldn’t get away.
I’ve found a few of those, here and there. The good thing about being in Denver is that you pretty much point them either north or east and they’re good to go. It’s getting too cold now to go to the mountains without adequate clothing. Not that the eastern plains are a safe bet either because of the weather (it gets pretty windy and the windchill can kill you) but there are far fewer people out there and it’s farther between them. It’s just safer overall. Avoiding the city is important. But I just couldn’t do that.
Why? I’ve beaten myself up on this one a lot. I couldn’t let people suffer. I don’t know what it is. It’s not like I was a firefighter or police officer “before”. I was just a white collar guy doing a white collar job who occasionally played a shooter on my Xbox. And now? I play “zombie killer” for real, every day. I guess maybe I’m just trying to end the epidemic. Seems like all of the people who didn’t clear out before the blizzard have either left or don’t matter. I haven’t seen anyone in several days. I think it’s just me and the other hunters now. I don’t see them that often, but I see their work.
I just finished the last can of Mini Raviolis and I’m bushed. Time to go on another food run. And an ammo run. I’ve got enough for now and I haven’t been bothered in a while, but supplies are running low.
There were protests. Things had been going on for several weeks but then the protests had gone wrong, terribly wrong. I don’t know what happened - I had just been paying the merest attention to it. People were upset and protesting. It seemed peaceful. I hadn’t heard anything that seemed to be out of the ordinary. But then something started. A pepper-spraying incident had been caught on video and gone viral. The police started taking a harder stance on the protests. Protesters fought back. Some anarchists joined the fray and suddenly the protests got more violent. I think that was when the grandmother got killed. Some seventy-eight year old grandmother attending the protests with her grandkids. The police and the media jumped all over her saying she was endangering her grandchildren’s lives. The protesters claimed the cops had been violent and overreacted. It degenerated from there. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Tear gas came out next and then something else. No one really knew what was going on but suddenly a lot of people got really sick. Hospitalized sick. And then crazy, zombie sick. Some of them escaped the hospitals and rampaged. Whatever it was, it acted like the infections in the zombie movies - you got bit, you got infected, you became one of them. Lots of people ended up back in the hospital only to attack hospital staff and escape again to grow the infection. I guess it could be exponential or geometric growth or something. I’m not entirely sure what the math would be, but it spread faster than it seemed possible.
The president invoked martial law, created a curfew, called out the troops with the assistance of the governors. It didn’t seem to help all that much. People got caught in their homes after curfew by the zombies and killed or turned. Gun sales spiked and then were halted. Troops patrolled the streets and tried to capture or kill the zombies they found. But it was the “still mostly human” ones that got away. They still had some semblance of reasoning and hid. But then they’d get hungry or crazed and come out. “Mostly at night. Mostly,” like Newt said. And they’d catch a few more people, turn them. In the end I think the government decided to just barricade themselves behind walls. The president and congress are in some bunker, probably the one in the Appalachians. Or wherever it is they made the new one.
Regular people were left on their own. The high-end communities where I lived brought in truckloads of security guards, guns, ammo, water, and food and hunkered down. The top one percent decided to shut themselves off completely. I think they’re waiting for the end to arrive, like in 28 Days Later. “If we can just wait until they die off, we can reclaim the country and get back to normal.” At least that what I think they’re thinking. For everyone else, though - good luck.
I sent my family away to Wyoming. There are too few people there for anything to spread too far and too many guns to let it persist. There’s something about the cowboy mentality that still exists there. Hunter safety classes are required for schoolchildren. Pretty much everyone knows how to use a gun by the time they’re ten. And in this world, right now, that’s a good thing. We have family there and before things got too bad we heard that they were still normal up there. Well, as normal as can be when half the country is dead or going insane with zombie fever.
I haven’t heard from them in over a month. It’s been that long since the power went down. All the enclaves have their own generators, so there’s no need for power anywhere else. Why do zombies care whether the lights are on or not? It just matters to those of us who stayed to try to protect the ones that couldn’t get away.
I’ve found a few of those, here and there. The good thing about being in Denver is that you pretty much point them either north or east and they’re good to go. It’s getting too cold now to go to the mountains without adequate clothing. Not that the eastern plains are a safe bet either because of the weather (it gets pretty windy and the windchill can kill you) but there are far fewer people out there and it’s farther between them. It’s just safer overall. Avoiding the city is important. But I just couldn’t do that.
Why? I’ve beaten myself up on this one a lot. I couldn’t let people suffer. I don’t know what it is. It’s not like I was a firefighter or police officer “before”. I was just a white collar guy doing a white collar job who occasionally played a shooter on my Xbox. And now? I play “zombie killer” for real, every day. I guess maybe I’m just trying to end the epidemic. Seems like all of the people who didn’t clear out before the blizzard have either left or don’t matter. I haven’t seen anyone in several days. I think it’s just me and the other hunters now. I don’t see them that often, but I see their work.
I just finished the last can of Mini Raviolis and I’m bushed. Time to go on another food run. And an ammo run. I’ve got enough for now and I haven’t been bothered in a while, but supplies are running low.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tonight's entry - 20 October
I held the cartridge between my thumb and forefinger, watching the light dance across its coppery surface. The dull leaden bullet on its tip sucked in the light, much like the light had been sucked out of the world lately. I made some random connection of it to a miniature black hole that would suck away the pain of its eventual victim.It’s probably just my ADHD kicking in. I positioned it above the others in the clip and pushed down, locking the cartridge into place with its twenty-nine brothers. Look at me, waxing poetic. Thinking I’m some kind of writer or something.
In addition to the five clips for the M16 I’d taken off a dead National Guardsman, I had three pistols of various sizes - two 9 millimeter Berettas and a .45. The .45 was a beautiful Colt 1911 that I found scrounging through a pawn shop looking for, well, anything. I’d found it clutched in the hand of its former owner, its last act to make a quarter-sized hole in the back of his head. The Berettas were from an army surplus store. That entire thing had been a pretty easy raid. Apparently the undead can’t figure out where their living prey are likely to go.
The undead. It sounded beyond surreal to say that. They weren’t totally undead. Well, most of them weren’t. Some of them were mostly still human. Mostly still people. They don’t stay that way for long, though. Once the virus or the bacteria or whatever it was took hold you only had a few days - a week, tops - before you were relatively mindless. The CDC and media never could tell us what it was, officially. The rumor mill said it had something to do with destroying the frontal cortex, turning regular, sentient people into mindless crazed killers.
It’s a sad statement that once you’re infected, I guess that’s what you call it, there’s nothing you can do. You survive the attack - you won! But then you find out you got bitten or got a bit of brain matter in your eye when you took half that zombie’s head off. Well, sucks to be you. May as well eat the bullet. Sadly I know too many people who did. But those who didn’t joined the packs that wander the streets looking for their next victim.
They weren’t really all that interested in eating you. Rather it’s that they didn’t really carry weapons and their hands and teeth were pretty much all the weaponry they have. I remember reading once on the Internet (oh, how I’ve missed that!) that surviving the zombie apocalypse would be easy because for zombies, their main prey for food or even procreation was also their top predator. It likened it to having to fight a lion every time you wanted to eat a sandwich or have sex. I laughed at it and posted it on Facebook. It was true, but what it didn’t account for was that once your frontal cortex is gone, you don’t really need sleep. The undead stay up 24/7. Unfortunately, the average sentient human being can’t do that too long. Eventually we sleep. And that’s when we’re most vulnerable. Or were. Once the outbreak began it was just a matter of time before the people who were run-ragged ended up sleeping and something found them. Those of us who survived the initial onslaught found safe places to sleep. Learned what kinds of things would prevent the zombies from breaking in. Learned to sleep lightly.
Where was I tonight? I was on the upper floors of an old hotel. I’d locked the fire escapes and there’s no power for the elevator. Plus, I’m inside one of the rooms. The odds that a zombie would even know I was here are astronomical. Despite all that, I’ve still bolted the door, placed the TV and dresser in front of it and always sleep with at least two of my pistols under my pillow.
So if zombies don’t want to eat you, what do they want? It seems that it’s just that they’re extreme xenophobes - they don’t like things that aren’t them. I saw a whole pack of them attack a cow just to kill it. A remember morbidly thinking about all that steak and hamburger going to waste. Once the zombies had dispatched the cow, which, if you think about, is really hard to do with just your hands and teeth, the pack wandered off looking for the next thing that wasn’t a zombie. I do remember taking great delight in killing the whole pack later that afternoon. I love me some steak, but that was a horrible death for an innocent creature.
The one thing I did always think would happen is that I’d get better at shooting. That’s the one thing that I predicted correctly. I can hit a zombie in the head from about three football fields away. I actually find it harder when they’re closer. You have to be more careful. Bringing your weapon to your shoulder can waste precious milliseconds. You have to shoot from the hip a lot more, which I dislike because it wastes ammo, but once they’re on the ground you can headshot them pretty easily. Unless there are fifty more, in which case you’re just trying to back your way out quickly and safely. Oh, that’s one more thing about the infection - it somehow manages to amp up the coagulation factors, meaning that shooting a zombie doesn’t necessarily kill them. Their wounds close up and then they’re able to move along again. Beyond massive blunt force trauma, a shot through the heart, or a headshot, you’re not taking that zombie down.
I had always thought that zombies would be the actual dead come back to life, like in the Romero movies. They would be slow, stupid, and the only real threat they posed was if there were too many of them. I guess I should be thankful that this time there weren’t any dead rising from the grave. I was glad that they... Listen to me - “was”. Like it’s over. Like I’m in some normal hotel room and the only things to fear are boogie-men under the bed. But it’s still going on out there. I hear the occasional gunshots, staccato bursts piercing the night. Someone isn’t being careful - he’s been caught outside or they’ve found him. I just hope he has enough ammunition to withstand the pack. I wish I could do more for him, poor bastard.
I vaguely remember the beginnings of the whole thing. Protests that turned ugly. People fighting for liberty and peace and civility and justice being beaten by a police force paid to shut them up. I never thought that would happen here. I never thought we’d sink so low. I guess when you’re at the top of the socioeconomic ladder and someone’s clawing their way up to pull you down a rung or two you get a little antsy. You get a little desperate. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. All in all, though, it doesn’t really matter - it is. Whatever happened started in several places at once. Several different cities began seeing the outbreaks simultaneously. It just took a couple of “patient zeroes” to start the problem.
There. No more gunfire. I hope he got them. I’ll check in the morning to make sure. If not, I’ll make sure that the pack pays for it. They’re usually not too hard to track if they’ve managed to kill something. If not, it should be easy to find the location based on the bodies. Sounds like it might have been up near the ball field. There are too many bad places to get cornered up there.
I’m glad these aren’t the modern, crazed rage-infected fiends from the more recent movies. Those things can move pretty quickly. They can jump and run and throw themselves at you. Thankfully, these are like the Romero zombies - slow, relatively stupid, and hyperfocused on one thing - destroying what isn’t one of them. Based on their looks, you can really bang yourself up when you can’t feel pain and don’t care about personal hygiene. Those people originally infected looked like death warmed over just a week later. But by then, the madness had already seized the world.
It’s late and I’m too tired to continue. More tomorrow night.
In addition to the five clips for the M16 I’d taken off a dead National Guardsman, I had three pistols of various sizes - two 9 millimeter Berettas and a .45. The .45 was a beautiful Colt 1911 that I found scrounging through a pawn shop looking for, well, anything. I’d found it clutched in the hand of its former owner, its last act to make a quarter-sized hole in the back of his head. The Berettas were from an army surplus store. That entire thing had been a pretty easy raid. Apparently the undead can’t figure out where their living prey are likely to go.
The undead. It sounded beyond surreal to say that. They weren’t totally undead. Well, most of them weren’t. Some of them were mostly still human. Mostly still people. They don’t stay that way for long, though. Once the virus or the bacteria or whatever it was took hold you only had a few days - a week, tops - before you were relatively mindless. The CDC and media never could tell us what it was, officially. The rumor mill said it had something to do with destroying the frontal cortex, turning regular, sentient people into mindless crazed killers.
It’s a sad statement that once you’re infected, I guess that’s what you call it, there’s nothing you can do. You survive the attack - you won! But then you find out you got bitten or got a bit of brain matter in your eye when you took half that zombie’s head off. Well, sucks to be you. May as well eat the bullet. Sadly I know too many people who did. But those who didn’t joined the packs that wander the streets looking for their next victim.
They weren’t really all that interested in eating you. Rather it’s that they didn’t really carry weapons and their hands and teeth were pretty much all the weaponry they have. I remember reading once on the Internet (oh, how I’ve missed that!) that surviving the zombie apocalypse would be easy because for zombies, their main prey for food or even procreation was also their top predator. It likened it to having to fight a lion every time you wanted to eat a sandwich or have sex. I laughed at it and posted it on Facebook. It was true, but what it didn’t account for was that once your frontal cortex is gone, you don’t really need sleep. The undead stay up 24/7. Unfortunately, the average sentient human being can’t do that too long. Eventually we sleep. And that’s when we’re most vulnerable. Or were. Once the outbreak began it was just a matter of time before the people who were run-ragged ended up sleeping and something found them. Those of us who survived the initial onslaught found safe places to sleep. Learned what kinds of things would prevent the zombies from breaking in. Learned to sleep lightly.
Where was I tonight? I was on the upper floors of an old hotel. I’d locked the fire escapes and there’s no power for the elevator. Plus, I’m inside one of the rooms. The odds that a zombie would even know I was here are astronomical. Despite all that, I’ve still bolted the door, placed the TV and dresser in front of it and always sleep with at least two of my pistols under my pillow.
So if zombies don’t want to eat you, what do they want? It seems that it’s just that they’re extreme xenophobes - they don’t like things that aren’t them. I saw a whole pack of them attack a cow just to kill it. A remember morbidly thinking about all that steak and hamburger going to waste. Once the zombies had dispatched the cow, which, if you think about, is really hard to do with just your hands and teeth, the pack wandered off looking for the next thing that wasn’t a zombie. I do remember taking great delight in killing the whole pack later that afternoon. I love me some steak, but that was a horrible death for an innocent creature.
The one thing I did always think would happen is that I’d get better at shooting. That’s the one thing that I predicted correctly. I can hit a zombie in the head from about three football fields away. I actually find it harder when they’re closer. You have to be more careful. Bringing your weapon to your shoulder can waste precious milliseconds. You have to shoot from the hip a lot more, which I dislike because it wastes ammo, but once they’re on the ground you can headshot them pretty easily. Unless there are fifty more, in which case you’re just trying to back your way out quickly and safely. Oh, that’s one more thing about the infection - it somehow manages to amp up the coagulation factors, meaning that shooting a zombie doesn’t necessarily kill them. Their wounds close up and then they’re able to move along again. Beyond massive blunt force trauma, a shot through the heart, or a headshot, you’re not taking that zombie down.
I had always thought that zombies would be the actual dead come back to life, like in the Romero movies. They would be slow, stupid, and the only real threat they posed was if there were too many of them. I guess I should be thankful that this time there weren’t any dead rising from the grave. I was glad that they... Listen to me - “was”. Like it’s over. Like I’m in some normal hotel room and the only things to fear are boogie-men under the bed. But it’s still going on out there. I hear the occasional gunshots, staccato bursts piercing the night. Someone isn’t being careful - he’s been caught outside or they’ve found him. I just hope he has enough ammunition to withstand the pack. I wish I could do more for him, poor bastard.
I vaguely remember the beginnings of the whole thing. Protests that turned ugly. People fighting for liberty and peace and civility and justice being beaten by a police force paid to shut them up. I never thought that would happen here. I never thought we’d sink so low. I guess when you’re at the top of the socioeconomic ladder and someone’s clawing their way up to pull you down a rung or two you get a little antsy. You get a little desperate. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. All in all, though, it doesn’t really matter - it is. Whatever happened started in several places at once. Several different cities began seeing the outbreaks simultaneously. It just took a couple of “patient zeroes” to start the problem.
There. No more gunfire. I hope he got them. I’ll check in the morning to make sure. If not, I’ll make sure that the pack pays for it. They’re usually not too hard to track if they’ve managed to kill something. If not, it should be easy to find the location based on the bodies. Sounds like it might have been up near the ball field. There are too many bad places to get cornered up there.
I’m glad these aren’t the modern, crazed rage-infected fiends from the more recent movies. Those things can move pretty quickly. They can jump and run and throw themselves at you. Thankfully, these are like the Romero zombies - slow, relatively stupid, and hyperfocused on one thing - destroying what isn’t one of them. Based on their looks, you can really bang yourself up when you can’t feel pain and don’t care about personal hygiene. Those people originally infected looked like death warmed over just a week later. But by then, the madness had already seized the world.
It’s late and I’m too tired to continue. More tomorrow night.
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