She pulled out a chair; sat down. The woman on the floor was still mostly pink, with only faint signs of necrosis on her fingertips and around her lips. The woman was freshly turned.
She was too late. If she hadn’t spent those few days in that trailer, instead immediately starting the search for supplies, she might have been able to reach them in time. From what she knew of the disease, it killed very quickly. About halfway through, the body began to decay. By the end, the victim became a living zombie, much like these four she’d just killed. But honestly, if they were bitten, there was nothing she could do except put them out of their misery.
‘Jeremy used to squeeze my shoulder whenever we came across any of these living zombies. ‘No point letting guilt get to you,’ he’d say. ‘We can’t do anything for them.’ I knew that, but I still can’t help feeling guilty. What if there is a way to help them, to turn them human, and we just don’t know it? What if we are killing them when we don’t have to? Thoughts like that used to keep me up at night, but after awhile, putting a bullet through their skulls has become mandatory. It has to be because once the hunger consumes them, they can’t be reasoned with. No matter how bad I feel, it still has to be done.’
• excerpt from August 29 th entry
She stood. Flashed her light around. The vending machines were busted into, their doors hanging open, their contents plundered. These people had been here for awhile, surviving off vending machine crap and soda. They’d cleaned out the cabinets, drank all the coffee and tea and water. She walked through the ‘Employees Only’ area, but there was nothing here for her. She headed back out into the store, combed the rest of the aisles. Her flashlight beam illuminated the kitchen displays – the color schemes and appliances set up to resemble corner kitchens. They hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been here as a kid. She kept moving, past the refrigerators and washers and dryers, to the tool section. She grabbed a cart and started looting.
‘I used to play RPG’s and first-person shooters, and one of my favorite things to do was loot houses and use whatever lock-picking skills my character possessed to break into chests, locked rooms, and whatever else I could find. I don’t consider myself to be a law-breaker in reality. The thought of stealing someone else’s stuff leaves butterflies in my stomach, but as I pushed my buggy down aisle after aisle, picking up a couple rolls of duct tape, several packs of nails and screws, I can’t deny the thrill I got just loading my newly acquired stuff into the back of my newly acquired truck. Maybe I really am a thief at heart.’
• excerpt from August 29 th entry
She filled the truck bed with 2x4s and the passenger seat with carpentry tools, batteries, nylon rope, bags of supplies, and various chemicals. The truck actually started on the first turn. She put it in gear and slowly drove out into the rain, stopping only to grab her bike. Then she headed to the highest point in town, a towering hill with a Burger Boulevard on top. She passed an old restaurant that had never quite made up its mind what it wanted to be: be it a steak house or a Chinese buffet. She passed a movie rental store, all dark and empty. She could finally run in and grab a movie without having to wait in line. Too bad she had no tv. At the Burger Boulevard, she pulled in the front lot and dug her binoculars out.
‘I had a few places in mind for my fortifications, to store my supplies and actually sleep for eight hours.
Every one of them has to meet certain specifications: minimal glass, only one or two ground entrances, and a second story with a staircase that can be torn down. They can’t be stand-alone buildings, instead can offer easy escape routes to other locations should my position ever be compromised. I prefer high places, usually only accessible by
She was too late. If she hadn’t spent those few days in that trailer, instead immediately starting the search for supplies, she might have been able to reach them in time. From what she knew of the disease, it killed very quickly. About halfway through, the body began to decay. By the end, the victim became a living zombie, much like these four she’d just killed. But honestly, if they were bitten, there was nothing she could do except put them out of their misery.
‘Jeremy used to squeeze my shoulder whenever we came across any of these living zombies. ‘No point letting guilt get to you,’ he’d say. ‘We can’t do anything for them.’ I knew that, but I still can’t help feeling guilty. What if there is a way to help them, to turn them human, and we just don’t know it? What if we are killing them when we don’t have to? Thoughts like that used to keep me up at night, but after awhile, putting a bullet through their skulls has become mandatory. It has to be because once the hunger consumes them, they can’t be reasoned with. No matter how bad I feel, it still has to be done.’
• excerpt from August 29 th entry
She stood. Flashed her light around. The vending machines were busted into, their doors hanging open, their contents plundered. These people had been here for awhile, surviving off vending machine crap and soda. They’d cleaned out the cabinets, drank all the coffee and tea and water. She walked through the ‘Employees Only’ area, but there was nothing here for her. She headed back out into the store, combed the rest of the aisles. Her flashlight beam illuminated the kitchen displays – the color schemes and appliances set up to resemble corner kitchens. They hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been here as a kid. She kept moving, past the refrigerators and washers and dryers, to the tool section. She grabbed a cart and started looting.
‘I used to play RPG’s and first-person shooters, and one of my favorite things to do was loot houses and use whatever lock-picking skills my character possessed to break into chests, locked rooms, and whatever else I could find. I don’t consider myself to be a law-breaker in reality. The thought of stealing someone else’s stuff leaves butterflies in my stomach, but as I pushed my buggy down aisle after aisle, picking up a couple rolls of duct tape, several packs of nails and screws, I can’t deny the thrill I got just loading my newly acquired stuff into the back of my newly acquired truck. Maybe I really am a thief at heart.’
• excerpt from August 29 th entry
She filled the truck bed with 2x4s and the passenger seat with carpentry tools, batteries, nylon rope, bags of supplies, and various chemicals. The truck actually started on the first turn. She put it in gear and slowly drove out into the rain, stopping only to grab her bike. Then she headed to the highest point in town, a towering hill with a Burger Boulevard on top. She passed an old restaurant that had never quite made up its mind what it wanted to be: be it a steak house or a Chinese buffet. She passed a movie rental store, all dark and empty. She could finally run in and grab a movie without having to wait in line. Too bad she had no tv. At the Burger Boulevard, she pulled in the front lot and dug her binoculars out.
‘I had a few places in mind for my fortifications, to store my supplies and actually sleep for eight hours.
Every one of them has to meet certain specifications: minimal glass, only one or two ground entrances, and a second story with a staircase that can be torn down. They can’t be stand-alone buildings, instead can offer easy escape routes to other locations should my position ever be compromised. I prefer high places, usually only accessible by
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