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29th October

Nonsense. Gibberish. That’s what it’ll sound like. Complete garbage. I don’t know how to write this all down without starting at the start.

It’s been what? Months? Years? I don’t even know any more.

All I can think of is Adam. What they must be putting him through. That is if he hasn’t escaped. Or they haven’t killed him. Or fed him to their ‘pets’.

Sick. That’s what humanity is. Sick. Before the illness took over the planet, it was already riddled to the core with a self centred, self serving plague called humanity. At least what we become after the virus takes a hold has no pretences. At least it doesn’t dress in a suit and tie, hide behind a corporate logo and suck the life blood out of anybody smaller and weaker than them. No, at least the turned just chew the flesh of any and all, regardless of race, religion, financial or material wealth. Man was sick before the apocalypse, and what few remain, have not changed for the better.

Right now I don’t have time. Dark is falling and it’s time for me to hunt. I know that the night is reserved for the dead, but I can’t afford the downtime. I’ve got to find Adam, and even the night time has to be used if I’m going to track him down and bring him back to safety.

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Posted by on 29 October in Zombie Philes

 

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8th May

We’ve spent the last few days holed up in a nice 2 storey bungalow. It was down a long, dirt driveway with poplars down each side. The house must have belonged to somebody with a bit of money back in the day. It had been ransacked, but there were still a few tins of food in a storeroom in the basement.

Adam and I pass the time with him learning how to read, write and fire small arms weapons, you know, the standards for a 6-year old. Being so far out in the country we felt fairly safe making so much noise.

The zoms, zombies, slovs, undead, walkers, snotties, diseased, whatever you want to call them, are attracted to sound. They’re also attracted to light, movement and your smell if they’re close enough. They’re mostly skin and bones, and sometimes I wonder how they keep moving, their bodies mostly wasted away by rot and decay. Their skin is like leather, or jerky if you’ve got no appetite – too much time out in the open without sunscreen will do that to you.

Adam seems to be a bit of a crack shot with the 9mm, but needs a bit of help with the loading and unloading as that seems to get him a little flustered. Especially when I start putting the pressure on as if it were a real zombie situation. Still, it’s good to know there is another gun in the mix if it all starts to go pear shaped.

Ammo, or lack thereof, is a concern though. That’s why I carry my machete. A decent whack to the head with that stops most of the snotties. Adam doesn’t have the strength to wield one at the moment, so his job is to hang behind and watch my back when things start getting hairy.

He hasn’t really taken to the reading or writing so much, but that’s boys for you. More interested in mud, bugs and shooting things than academia. Not too worried though, doubt we’ll come across too many headmistresses demanding a 3,000 word essay on the pros and cons of smelling like a rotting corpse.

 
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Posted by on 8 May in Zombie Philes

 

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2nd May

So we said our goodbyes today and left the town out the back way.

Adam was a little sad to leave, but it was also his decision to go too, so he was ready. I’d only learnt the names of half a dozen people in my time there, and only saw three of them before we left just after breakfast (a boiled egg and a couple of slices of bread from a bakery they got going again with a coal-fired oven).

Out on the road again seemed a bit weird. We had to get back into the cautious mode after a couple of weeks of letting our guard down. Thankfully the surrounding areas have been pretty well cleaned out of undead by the regular patrols from the township.

We settled ourselves into an abandoned gas station a few miles out of town well before the sky had even started to turn pink.

Today was the day I deemed to be Adam’s birthday. I like to spring it on him each year so it is a nice surprise. Neither of us have any clue when his real birthday is, so I just make sure it is roughly around the same time of season each year.

First I found a couple of chocolate bars that hadn’t turned too rancid in the gas station’s store out front and gave him those in lieu of a cake. I then pulled out the whetstone I had been carting around ever since that fishing store visit all those weeks, or was it months back. He loved it and was so excited. I showed him how to spit on it and gently rub each side of his knife in a figure eight motion to put an edge back on it.

When he finally grew tired of that the sun was going down. So I got a couple of our candles going and then pulled out the big guns – literally.

When I took out the 9mm and handed it to him, his blue eyes grew so huge. He was excited, scared, nervous and overjoyed, all wrapped into one scrawny little blond-haired bundle. Before letting him hold it himself, I showed him the safety, how to release the clip and pull back the slide to ensure no bullet was in there, and clip it all back together again.

I handed the gun to him and he held it in his lap reverently. He was so grateful he gave me a huge hug and wet kiss on the cheek – something I’d never got from him before. So for that I thought it wasn’t worth mentioning that it was a gift from the sergeant. Not tonight anyway – perhaps another time.

I promised him we’d find a safe location in the next couple of days to let him fire off a few rounds and get the feel of the thing. But first I’d show him how to strip it down and clean it to keep it in good condition – that is if I could work that out myself first.

All up it was a pretty happy birthday I feel.

 
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Posted by on 2 May in Zombie Philes

 

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20th April

They say a man can last about 3 days without water and up to a week without food. Well here in the summer-less North we’re not short of fresh water. There are streams, rivers, lakes, ponds, lochs and puddles everywhere. It’s the food that’s the problem.
There used to be a joke about how the haggis is an animal that lives in the hills of Scotland. If that were the case, I could do with coming across a paddock of them right about now.

I’m pretty much just skin and bones now, and Adam isn’t far off that himself. I make sure he gets as much food as I can, giving him most of my share when he’ll let me get away with it. I don’t know if I’m doing him a favour or a disservice. If I were to waste away and be too weak to fight off an attack he wouldn’t survive much longer than I would, but on the other hand the poor kid is growing and his body needs all the sustenance it can get otherwise he’ll end up some puny midget of a man in later life.

Our target each day is to try and walk about 20 miles – about two finger widths on this old map of the country I carry around. While we walk, we’re constantly scanning ahead and behind for slovs, and seeing if we can spy anything that might lend itself to eating. An apple tree, a house that doesn’t look like it has been too badly raided, hell, an old dog or oh yeah, a wild horse would be a feast for a week or more!

Just yesterday I was daydreaming about burgers. I was about to describe them to Adam who has never seen one in his life when this grey, emaciated hand shot out from a storm drain I was walking past and made a grab at my leg. At first I thought it was a slov that had been in there hunting rats and I was about to lop off its limb with my handy dandy machete I found in a green grocer’s until it spoke.

“Food?” it croaked. “Got any food?” Of course I had some food, but I wasn’t about to tell her, him, it anything. When it came out into the light I saw it was a wizened up old lady. How she had survived this long I wouldn’t know (she would probably tell me it was from not smoking, regular exercise and that a rat a day keeps the doctor away).

Adam was pretty intrigued that we’d found another Living that we could talk to, but he stood warily on watch while I dealt with the situation.

Seems she had been living in the storm drain most of the last few years – that is except for when there were big rains and her home was busy being a – well, storm drain. She mostly ate, much as I had already guessed, rats. But also various mosses and plants she had found to be edible. We couldn’t spare any of our food but I left her with a handful of mixed nuts that were in the cupboard of a house a few days walk back, and went on our way. She begged to come with us, but all three of us knew she would be a burden on us. She would slow us down, couldn’t fight even as well as Adam the five year old could, and would need just as much food, though this last part she argued against.

In the end we left her to her drain, promising to stop in on our way back in a few months. I marked this spot on our map too, and after finding out she knew nothing about a research facility, we headed onwards.

 
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Posted by on 20 April in Zombie Philes

 

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9th April

With all this focus on the past, I haven’t even written about our current situation.

Well, Adam is nearly six. Time and dates don’t really matter much these days. Gone are the days where we’re ruled by the calendar. We pretty much focus on night and day, and the seasons. So this will be Adam’s sixth summer we’re coming up to. I’ve found a whetstone at an old fishing store and wrapped it in some newspaper for him when we deem the right day has come. I’ll be able to teach him how to sharpen his knife he uses to dispatch the odd easy to pick off undead.

He’s a tough little sod really. He quickly learnt not to cry, and that I’d fend for him as and when I could. His crying would only attract the dead and that scared him enough to stop. It took him a while to start talking too. Well I don’t talk much at the best of times, and we just didn’t need the attention the unnecessary noise would make anyway. We pretty much relied on whistles, grunts and eye movements to communicate when the bad guys were around for the first few years, until one day I heard his first words.
I’d just driven the sharp end of a crowbar through the brain of a slov that was getting a little too friendly when he piped up in this squeaky, little voice “That’ll fuck em.” Seriously, those were his first words. He must have got that from me. Sounds like the kind of thing I would have muttered a time or two in the past.

Anyways, we’re doing OK. Food is always a hassle. Finding enough to live off that hasn’t spoilt. We can’t stay in one place long enough to grow anything, and most of the shops have been raided by the remaining Living before they too got themselves bitten.
Very rarely we’ll come across other Living. Mostly we steer clear of them. They’re either well set up and very untrusting of others, or don’t have anything and pretty much want to leach off Adam and I. We just do our own thing and give them a wide berth.
We’re making our way back up North for the summer, having spent the last 4 or 5 months in the south not too far from that fated airstrip that thrust us both together on that night.

Tonight it appears we’ve got lodgings in a modest bungalow on the outskirts of some town or other. There’s a stream out the back, and the inhabitants had to be vacated with extreme prejudice, so we’re holed up and secure for another night.
We walk most of the time. The roads are too clogged with abandoned cars and trucks anyway. Besides, the noise of a vehicle gets the undead shambling over from miles around.

Right, best wind this up and secure the doors and windows before we tuck ourselves in bed and snack on a tin of chub. The picture on the front is of a, I think they’re called golden retrievers? Anyway, it has such a glossy coat and looks so happy, I think it can only be good for Adam and I.

Night.

 
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Posted by on 9 April in Zombie Philes

 

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6th April

Oh man! I’d forgotten all about this diary thing I’d been keeping. I’ve just found it in the bottom of my pack.
Well, it’s been some time since I wrote in here, so what’s been happening since I last wrote something? Let’s see, I’ll just read back a few pages…

Wow. If anybody is reading this, you’re so far behind by now. Five years behind in fact. Things are, well, things are still much as they were before, but Adam and I are about it as far as the real thinkers around here go.
Let’s see, I’ll try and bring this story up to date, and if I have any sense of discipline (or time in my busy day) I’ll attempt to keep it up to date too.

So, where to start? OK, so last time we saw our action hero we’d just discovered that barn of snotties camping out on our doorstep. And I’d freaked out about my wife being among them. Well that threw me for a six, and I went into a bit of a meltdown. I turned, for want of a better term, catatonic.

I was so messed up by it all, the next week or so went by in a blur and it wasn’t until my Special Forces roomie came in one day with the news that I snapped out of it.

He told me they were going to off the neighbours (by that I mean the zombies in the barn) and that he thought I ought to know given I had once known one of the inhabitants. The brass had decided that they posed too great a threat to our community and need to be “put down”. Hell, you wouldn’t believe how big a threat they were – but I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, you see, a couple of nights later the SF boys trooped off to the barn down the road all hopped up on caffeine from a recent store raid and armed to the teeth with anything that threw lead in a forward direction. They waited until they had a full house in the barn and opened fire.

What they hadn’t counted on was the twins, and my wife surviving the barrage of fire and sneaking out the back door. When they went in for the headcount (assuming any heads were remaining after the firepower they unleashed upon that barn) they found three missing with no sign of where they had got to. Assuming they had scarpered, the boys came back to came to slap each other on the back and laugh at the mess they had left behind. Unbeknownst to them, they had merely kicked the hornet’s nest.
Anyways, I’ve got to get Adam fed and into bed before doing my final perimeter patrol as darkness is falling and I can’t have any lights on at night. I’ll pick this up again tomorrow (if I remember).

 
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Posted by on 6 April in Zombie Philes

 

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22nd June

The team arrived back again at last. They drove right into the compound, three tankers branded as being from various oil companies, and the rest of the crews in humvees and trucks.

That is all except for one truck. It remained outside the compound gates. All of those that remained outside the closed gate had been infected during the mission. A few of us gathered at the gate to see them. Those still able to walk shouted out their goodbyes, keeping their distance so as not to infect the rest of us. They looked so sick and frightened. They saluted the Base Commander and a few of them walked off up the road. I saw some stagger off into the minefields and a big eruption of smoke followed quickly by the sound of the explosion as they took their own lives. Some just put guns in their mouths where they stood. The truck outside the gates was torched, along with those too sick to get out and walk away.

It is great to have most of the guys return, and the fuel will help out hugely. But those poor sods taking their own lives. Reason two I could never be one of them. And we’re back to that cowardice thing again. I’ll never forget that look on their faces as they knew what they had to do to keep the rest of us safe.

 
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Posted by on 26 June in Zombie Philes

 

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