toward me. It was dark, and the thing just kept running into the wing and empennage of the aircraft. I carefully aimed, as to avoid damage to the bird and let one shot ring out. The jaw tore away from the face, letting the orphaned tongue hang freely. Even in the limited colour perception I have with the goggles, it was a disgusting site.
It slumped back and kept coming at me and let out a gurgling sound in its throat. I shot the bastard again, ending its miserable existence.
After dragging all the bodies by the legs, out of the way of the aircraft, I began to refuel it. It took almost ten minutes to top it off. During this time, I could now hear the moans of the un-dead carried on the wind. The gunfire excited them. It was a terrible sound. After getting the aircraft refuelled, I made for the tower. No detours. Once again the gimp ghoul was nowhere to be seen. WTF? I'm safe inside for the night right now. The moans continue… another night with earplugs.
The thought of the night; I killed six of them… that leaves "gimpy" and another four inside the fence. Where are they?
February 8th, 1822 hrs
Awoke this morning to a banging sound on the steel door down stairs. It sounded like more than one of them. John and I crept downstairs to check things out. From the sounds, there were multiple fists banging on the door. Low moans could be heard through the steel. I checked the lock to make sure it was solid. This was the only door in or out of the tower.
The only other way down was a two hundred foot drop from the balcony. John and I brought down a heavy desk to place in front of the door. I went up top and out on the observation deck. I couldn't see down because of the roof over the door area. Using my binoculars, 1 checked the west fence in the distance. There were more, but the fence was holding. I guessed that the creatures banging on the door were the leftovers from my battle earlier. I don't want to risk opening the door below. I don't know the best way to dispose of them.
February 9th, 2142 hrs
The banging stopped last night, and the un-dead at the bottom of the stairs must have just given up, probably because they never saw us or heard us in here. John and I were still and quiet the whole day yesterday. There was no need to go outside today, as the plane was refuelled and we still had power/running water in the tower.
I even got a chance at a shower in the bathroom one floor down. There was a deep sink and a garden hose. The floor panel was plastic and had a drain in the centre and the whole room was just a janitor closet, so I rigged the hose up above my head and took a nice shower. Had to use a bar of soap for shampoo, but oh well, beggars can't be choosers, or so they say. I hadn't shaved in a few days.
The razor felt good on my face. I felt like a new man after I had washed up. I did some laundry (in the sink with the bar soap) and hung it in the stairwell to dry. I told John about my little hose trick, but he wasn't interested. He just keeps getting worse and worse, grieving over his wife.
I do not know what my long range plans will be. The world is a different place now. The range on the aircraft is just over four hundred miles. That gives us some options. For a little while today, I initially thought about finding what was left of the military. The questions that they would ask me would be difficult to answer. "How did you survive on the base, son?" I almost feel guilty about not dying with my comrades. It reminds me of a twilight zone episode I saw before the shit hit the fan. It was an episode about a Navy submarine that sank with one survivor. The sailor felt guilty and kept seeing his dead bloated shipmates calling him to the deep.
Please don't let me dream tonight.
February 10th, 2350 hrs
The west fence could fail. There are hundreds around the perimeter. The lights of the city have drawn them. I
It slumped back and kept coming at me and let out a gurgling sound in its throat. I shot the bastard again, ending its miserable existence.
After dragging all the bodies by the legs, out of the way of the aircraft, I began to refuel it. It took almost ten minutes to top it off. During this time, I could now hear the moans of the un-dead carried on the wind. The gunfire excited them. It was a terrible sound. After getting the aircraft refuelled, I made for the tower. No detours. Once again the gimp ghoul was nowhere to be seen. WTF? I'm safe inside for the night right now. The moans continue… another night with earplugs.
The thought of the night; I killed six of them… that leaves "gimpy" and another four inside the fence. Where are they?
February 8th, 1822 hrs
Awoke this morning to a banging sound on the steel door down stairs. It sounded like more than one of them. John and I crept downstairs to check things out. From the sounds, there were multiple fists banging on the door. Low moans could be heard through the steel. I checked the lock to make sure it was solid. This was the only door in or out of the tower.
The only other way down was a two hundred foot drop from the balcony. John and I brought down a heavy desk to place in front of the door. I went up top and out on the observation deck. I couldn't see down because of the roof over the door area. Using my binoculars, 1 checked the west fence in the distance. There were more, but the fence was holding. I guessed that the creatures banging on the door were the leftovers from my battle earlier. I don't want to risk opening the door below. I don't know the best way to dispose of them.
February 9th, 2142 hrs
The banging stopped last night, and the un-dead at the bottom of the stairs must have just given up, probably because they never saw us or heard us in here. John and I were still and quiet the whole day yesterday. There was no need to go outside today, as the plane was refuelled and we still had power/running water in the tower.
I even got a chance at a shower in the bathroom one floor down. There was a deep sink and a garden hose. The floor panel was plastic and had a drain in the centre and the whole room was just a janitor closet, so I rigged the hose up above my head and took a nice shower. Had to use a bar of soap for shampoo, but oh well, beggars can't be choosers, or so they say. I hadn't shaved in a few days.
The razor felt good on my face. I felt like a new man after I had washed up. I did some laundry (in the sink with the bar soap) and hung it in the stairwell to dry. I told John about my little hose trick, but he wasn't interested. He just keeps getting worse and worse, grieving over his wife.
I do not know what my long range plans will be. The world is a different place now. The range on the aircraft is just over four hundred miles. That gives us some options. For a little while today, I initially thought about finding what was left of the military. The questions that they would ask me would be difficult to answer. "How did you survive on the base, son?" I almost feel guilty about not dying with my comrades. It reminds me of a twilight zone episode I saw before the shit hit the fan. It was an episode about a Navy submarine that sank with one survivor. The sailor felt guilty and kept seeing his dead bloated shipmates calling him to the deep.
Please don't let me dream tonight.
February 10th, 2350 hrs
The west fence could fail. There are hundreds around the perimeter. The lights of the city have drawn them. I
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