eating other zombies. I’ve killed plenty of them, shot them in the head with a rifle that I’ve found, and the others just fucking eat them. It’s horrible.
But hey, if you want to come around here you are more than welcome man. I sort of have an idea where Edenvale is – I think I’ve been to a pub there a couple of times. But if you get bored over there and want to risk going outside, I’ve got power, I’ve got plenty of food and I’ve got a great fucking view of the golf course!
Seriously though man, what the fuck do you think is going on? Are we on our own? What’s happened to the army and the police (I’ve killed a couple of zombies in police uniforms over the last week)? What can we do? I don’t mention it on my blog, but fuck, I’m taking strain. Is this the end of the world?
Keep in touch
Chris
So yeah, he’s holed up in his place and I am holed up in mine – at least I know that someone else is going through what I am on a daily. Shit, the lights on the UPS have start
7:53pm, June 4
Sorry about that abrupt end to my post yesterday – I was basically just closing off when the UPS died. All I was going to say is that Chris’ last paragraph voiced my concerns… are we just holding off the inevitable end? Well, as long as I still have my family and Lil out there, I won’t give up. Okay, that’s it for now, conserving the power as it was a bit overcast today (and damn cold again).
Take care,
Sam W
1:13pm, June 6
My Dad’s gone.
I just got a frantic call from my mother. He freaked out this morning and ran out of the house. The others in the house tried to stop him. But he fought them off. My mother says that the streets are filled with the infected
2:37pm, June 6
Sorry, I couldn’t carry on earlier. Why the fuck, Dad!? He’s… he is, more than likely… dead.
That was hard to type.
Spoke to my Mom again and she is, quite understandably, beside herself. We both broke down. I couldn’t get any more details from her. Maybe later.
Sam
8:03pm, June 6
Okay, we have both calmed down, and even though I couldn’t speak for too long because of a dwindling cell battery, I now know a bit more about what happened earlier.
My Dad had been becoming increasingly anxious and nervous according to my Mom. For the last three days he had spent most of the time in bed, not sleeping, but just staring into the distance. If anyone knows my Dad, they know that he cannot sit still. When I was at school he would be up at 4:30am every day for work, and on the weekends, he would still be up at 4:30am, tinkering at something, fixing a broken light or cleaning the cars, even in the middle of winter. In the summer months, he would wait with bated breath for the clock to strike 8am, an indication that it was now socially acceptable to make a bit of noise, and thus, in my elder years, a night out late on the piss and the subsequent drunken sleep was usually interrupted, like clockwork at 8:01am, by the chugging sound of our petrol lawnmower (beneath my bedroom window, may I add), spluttering into life. Even now, well, before now, when everything was alright, I would wake up in the morning feeling like death, the taste of uncountable Jack Daniels and lime in my mouth, and at least feel a bit better because there was no mad man mowing his perfectly manicured lawn below me! So yeah, him staying in bed for a couple days was certainly out of character.
Then yesterday afternoon, my Mom reports, he was particularly ratty, and when everyone in their enclave got together for their daily ‘meeting’ (where they rationed out the food, updated the lookout roster and discussed the next day’s course of action), my Dad snapped at his fellow housemates, calling them “naive” for believing that they would one day be saved and calling the notion that they would all survive “ludicrous”. I suppose that they all must have thought this at some point, but none of
But hey, if you want to come around here you are more than welcome man. I sort of have an idea where Edenvale is – I think I’ve been to a pub there a couple of times. But if you get bored over there and want to risk going outside, I’ve got power, I’ve got plenty of food and I’ve got a great fucking view of the golf course!
Seriously though man, what the fuck do you think is going on? Are we on our own? What’s happened to the army and the police (I’ve killed a couple of zombies in police uniforms over the last week)? What can we do? I don’t mention it on my blog, but fuck, I’m taking strain. Is this the end of the world?
Keep in touch
Chris
So yeah, he’s holed up in his place and I am holed up in mine – at least I know that someone else is going through what I am on a daily. Shit, the lights on the UPS have start
7:53pm, June 4
Sorry about that abrupt end to my post yesterday – I was basically just closing off when the UPS died. All I was going to say is that Chris’ last paragraph voiced my concerns… are we just holding off the inevitable end? Well, as long as I still have my family and Lil out there, I won’t give up. Okay, that’s it for now, conserving the power as it was a bit overcast today (and damn cold again).
Take care,
Sam W
1:13pm, June 6
My Dad’s gone.
I just got a frantic call from my mother. He freaked out this morning and ran out of the house. The others in the house tried to stop him. But he fought them off. My mother says that the streets are filled with the infected
2:37pm, June 6
Sorry, I couldn’t carry on earlier. Why the fuck, Dad!? He’s… he is, more than likely… dead.
That was hard to type.
Spoke to my Mom again and she is, quite understandably, beside herself. We both broke down. I couldn’t get any more details from her. Maybe later.
Sam
8:03pm, June 6
Okay, we have both calmed down, and even though I couldn’t speak for too long because of a dwindling cell battery, I now know a bit more about what happened earlier.
My Dad had been becoming increasingly anxious and nervous according to my Mom. For the last three days he had spent most of the time in bed, not sleeping, but just staring into the distance. If anyone knows my Dad, they know that he cannot sit still. When I was at school he would be up at 4:30am every day for work, and on the weekends, he would still be up at 4:30am, tinkering at something, fixing a broken light or cleaning the cars, even in the middle of winter. In the summer months, he would wait with bated breath for the clock to strike 8am, an indication that it was now socially acceptable to make a bit of noise, and thus, in my elder years, a night out late on the piss and the subsequent drunken sleep was usually interrupted, like clockwork at 8:01am, by the chugging sound of our petrol lawnmower (beneath my bedroom window, may I add), spluttering into life. Even now, well, before now, when everything was alright, I would wake up in the morning feeling like death, the taste of uncountable Jack Daniels and lime in my mouth, and at least feel a bit better because there was no mad man mowing his perfectly manicured lawn below me! So yeah, him staying in bed for a couple days was certainly out of character.
Then yesterday afternoon, my Mom reports, he was particularly ratty, and when everyone in their enclave got together for their daily ‘meeting’ (where they rationed out the food, updated the lookout roster and discussed the next day’s course of action), my Dad snapped at his fellow housemates, calling them “naive” for believing that they would one day be saved and calling the notion that they would all survive “ludicrous”. I suppose that they all must have thought this at some point, but none of
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