Sunday 4 December 2011

Entry 9 - Haven

Forwards Nine is the place we've been looking for ever since we left the capital. This is it. Salvation, if such a thing exists. It is secure, secluded and well stocked. Captain was telling me it was basicly being used as a glorified store house to support troops evacuating civilians. But, with how those early days went, the area collapsed quickly, the troops fell back, died or went rogue, and this place went forgotten. The Captain and his men decided to stay here, wisely too, considering the London massacre that followed.

Forwards Nine consists of three buildings: the storehouse, living quarters and a research lab. The stores here are ridiculous - a small warehouse of non-perishables - tins, army rations, dried foods... We have enough here to keep us comfortable for years!

As for the Captain and his men... they seem welcoming enough. You have to be very cautious these days. Survival hardens people very quickly, we've met our share of raiders and vultures. People who would murder you in cold blood if they thought you had something they needed. Strip away the social facade of expectations and graces, underneath is an ugly face. Believe it or not, those people were once ordinary - living their lives; work, relationships, traffic and drinks with friends. It's brought the worst out of people. 

I like to think that maybe it brings the best out in some people too. I hope that's what we've found here. With everything that's happened, God knows we could do with some luck and living in our lives.

Still Surviving
Katherine

Wednesday 9 November 2011

Entry 8 - Arrival at Forwards Nine

CURRENT SURVIVORS:













After a day’s hungry walk, Jim and I arrived at the promised base, tucked away from the roads and sheltered on all sides by a thick wedge of trees. The clearing was surprisingly large with a high chain link fence encircling the centre in a giant square. On the outside of the chain link fence was a deep trench dug into the ground. Jim explained to me zombies trying to reach the base often fell into these trenches and struggled to get out, this acted as the first line of defence. The fence was reinforced by concrete blocks at intervals, making knocking it down exceptionally difficult even if the zombies managed to get past the trench. There was a single path leading to the main gate, where there was a gap in the trench.

We approached the main gate cautiously with our arms raised and waving so we wouldn't get shot (or have less chance of being shot I should say). The area was eerily quiet. Almost immediately we saw movement on the other side of the fence. Approaching us were three men. The first was the rough military type, he was a large man and his hair was short but unkempt. He strode confidently forward with a machine gun swaying on his hip. The second man slightly behind him was smaller. He didn't have a gun but also had a poorly maintained military hairstyle. The third and final man in the group was Thomas, smiling broadly.

When the gate opened I embraced Thomas while he uttered apologises about not returning. It was only upon seeing him again that I realised I had missed him.
The first man turned to Jim with a searching look, which Jim replied to with a slight shake of the head. He sighed and turned to me "Welcome to Forwards Nine" He said and held out his hand. I took it and shook it firmly. "I'm sorry about Bobby" I told him. He nodded, "He knew what he was getting in to" He motioned towards the second man, "My name is Captain, this here is Doc Runts". The other man scolded "The names Doctor James Rhodes actually" He emphasised and we shook hands. Captain grinned "You must be Katherine?" he asked. I told him it was and he nodded again, I was beginning to get strange vibes off this Captain. "I'll give you the tour shall I?" He said "But firstly, I don't suppose you have any cheese do you?" 

This might be an interesting day.

Still Surviving
Katherine

Monday 7 November 2011

Announcement: Project Zomboid

Hello readers! Taking a short break from Katherine and Jim's immediate arrival at Forwards Nine to tell you about an awesome zombie game.

Project Zomboid is a zombie survival RPG produced by Indie Stone. I've been playing it a lot recently after becoming completely addicted from playing the demo. Ironically, it's the repeated times you will die that gets you hooked.  I would highly recommend it to any zombie fan out there.

Here is the official website.

Here is the demo download.

It is still in it's pre-alpha stages but has an active development team and community, despite set backs such as being robbed a few weeks ago.

I've been having ago at some story modding for PZ, which comprises of two mods:
If you're interested and bored, have a look.

Any for any existing fans of the game, here is some music which probably has some meaning to you:


In a few years, this will be pure nostalgic feelings.

Thanks to everyone who's been reading so far, whether it be intentional or accidentical clicking here. It's fascinating to see the amount of people from different countries who have passed through. Anyway! Back to zombies and casual cannibalism.

UPDATE: My mods got a mention on the official game blog! Right here. I feel so validated.

Thursday 3 November 2011

Meanwhile (Part One)

Dusk had fallen and we were surrounded. I stared out the window out onto the fields of corpses; they stared back up at me. They were swarming and pushing forward, pressing from all sides against the tiny cottage we were sheltering in. Our time for running had come to an end. A cry from downstairs snapped me out of my stupor. I rushed downwards, gripping my shotgun with sweaty palms. The noise down here was horrendous; the dead groaned and screamed and smashed endlessly against our barricades. They would not hold out much longer. Alan turned to me with a panicked look, “How does it look out there?” He asked desperately. One look at my expression and he turned back to the barricades, his answer didn’t need words.

There was a loud crack as the one of the window barricades smashed and fell uselessly onto the floor. Through the hole a man’s face appeared and peered at us with a white glazed eye. His cheek was torn and skin hung loosely off his face exposing his blood stained teeth. I dropped the shotgun and rushed to take a crowbar off the kitchen table. I reached the window just as the intruder attempted to climb through the gap and swung the crowbar at his head. There was a sickening crunch and his body sank to the floor. Behind me I heard other windows breaking open.

They squeezed into the house trhough every hole. I hit another zombie as he tried to get through the gap and spun around to grab the shotgun. There was an incredibly loud bang as Alan’s gun went off, demolishing the face of a zombie breaking through another window. Gripping my shotgun now I yelled, “Alan, pull back! We’ll bottleneck them on the stairs”. Alan looked me in the eye and nodded. Together we turned and headed for the stairs. At that moment the main door collapsed inwards and they poured in. I briefly saw Alan’s eyes widen in shock before they grabbed him, he screamed, and they began to tear bits of his flesh off with their teeth. My last image of him before escaping upstairs was his body twitching uselessly in shock.

Now I sit in bedroom, back against the flimsy door. I hear the zombies moving upstairs and it won’t be long before they find me. There’s no way out. There’s no way to win. I stare at the endless black of the shotgun barrel. I picture Alan’s twitching body, his terrified face and the immense screaming pain of being eaten alive. I place the barrel in my mouth to see how it feels. It feels strangely comforting. I try to will myself away from this place. I picture my family and friends, and the loving home I used to have. I close my eyes in the dying light of the day and embrace the blackness.

Slowly, I open my eyes again and look up at the bedroom ceiling. There is a painted square hatch, so easily missed. This room has a loft.

Wednesday 26 October 2011

Entry 7 - Do not drive

 CURRENT SURVIVORS:

 












Okay, here's something new to add to the zombie survival advice: Do not drive during the zombie apocalypse. I cannot stress this enough. Rule number one is do not make loud noises. Driving violates rule number one. Violating rules is bad. I honestly thought the military would have figured this out by now. Two khaki morons drive by the hide-out to pick me driving in a frickin' jeep! Before I knew it we got swamped by zombies from every direction, drawn to the noise. I figure my hide-out is compromised so I bolt for the vehicle and jump in. Then the guys frickin' drive the same way back that they came from! So they drive back into the zombies amassed on their trail. Needless to say we were using zombies as speed bumps before long. With zombies clinging onto our vehicle on all sides, the driver loses control and smashes into a wall.

As I'm trying to regain my composure, the zombies grab the driver through the window. He stands no chance; they drag him screaming out of the car and start biting chunks out of his body. The last I see before I turn away to escape is the awful twitching of a body in complete shock and denial. I escape onto the roof through the now broken back window. Meanwhile the passenger army guy is up, he's seeing his dying friend and bursts out of his side door, machine gun blazing. The sheer numbers of the zombies drawn to this escapade must quickly sap his fighting spirit, because he quickly joins me on the roof.

Together we flee across the jeep's crumpled roof and over the broken wall. We run for several minutes through overgrown fields until we're both panting before stopping. What a fuckery. He introduces himself as Jim. His friend the driver was Bobby. I go on to inform him of my disapproval of their tactics in a significantly unfriendly way. After an exchange of obscenities we start moving towards a base a days walk away, where he says Thomas is staying. This has not been a good few days.

Still Surviving
Katherine

SURVIVOR UPDATE:

Tuesday 25 October 2011

Sometimes Cynical - An Introduction














Even before the zombie apocalypse I used to think people were mindless, glassy eyed and shallow fools. Blindingly wandering around staring into their phones, completely oblivious to the vastness of potential experience of the entire world around them. I watched as people tried desperately to get a job without even truly knowing why. I watched as they neglected their own lives in place of talentless and exaggerated celebrities. I watched as they fucked each other, fought each other, always with the same big fucking stupid grin on their faces. Never for love, not even for passion. They did it to provide their tiny lives with some false sense of self worth - never seeming to realise the pointlessness of the exercise. People were clueless. I look out the window now and I don't see anything different. At least no-one here is trying to deny what they've been all along.

There are real people out there still. Just like there was before. Faces in a sea of people. A tiny minority of who actually see the world, who actually take in their senses while everyone else lives in their heads. I've seen one person. A beautiful woman with red hair. I watched her in the barricaded house up the street. Maybe I can find someone who shares my values, and we can explore this world together. 

They came and took her. The military in a military jeep. Everything I've ever hated in a man. A whole group of individuals who deliberately adhere to hyper-masculine norms while submitting all autonomy to the nearest authority figure. They cannot think for themselves. Worst of all, they love themselves, and think others do and should also.

I must rescue her.

Monday 19 September 2011

MILITARY-ONE (Update on research files)

I am still no closer to understanding the outbreak than when it first started. My recent experiements have provided interesting results, but rather than enrich my knowledge, it seems to have undermined previous assumptions. These set of experiments were designed to understand the workings of a zombie, how and why their cells survive even when the body has taken so much damage the original 'person' has died. The results are explained below:

EXPERIMENT 23: Blood flow in a zombie

Abstract: This preliminary experiment aimed to understand blood flow around an infected corpse. Blood flow is essential in delivering vital components, such as oxygen and glucose, to organs and muscles to enable cells to work efficently. Zombies do not bleed if cut as a regular person would. Nor do those that have bled to death and then become infected have any trouble with movement. Studies have revealed those 'infected alive' or pseudo-zombie as it has been called, do indeed have a typical circulation system. However, 'regular' infected dead do not. This suggests the virus must use an alternative system, perhaps in parallel to reanimate and then work dead cells. This system might work in parallel to the typical circulation system, thus explaining why the pseudo-zombie is the much quicker and dangerous type. As of yet, this alternative system to maintain cells is a complete mystery. Samples reveal that some cells are indeed repaired and replaced if infected after death, how or why a virus would do this is also a complete mystery.


EXPERIMENT 24: Nerve cell repair and transmission in zombies

Abstract: The brain is the command centre of the body, responsible for everything from automatic breathing to abstract thought. It is well documented that destroying or damaging the brain causes the destruction of a zombie, and those who die of high trauma to the head do not reanimate as a zombie (see Experiments 4-11). However, it is not understood why the brain cannot be repaired in ways other cells in the body can (and with apparent ease), espicially when only minimal function is required. While my experience is not with neurological functioning, I was able to examine the spinal cord for a short period of a restrained zombie male. Voltage testing revealed that nerve cells do not seem to travel up or down the spinal cord in a regular zombie. Under increased magnification I was able to observe a fine layer of new material on the outside of the spinal cord which did show electronic activity in relation ot movement from the zombie. This unknown material tranversed small breaks in the spinal cord, but not large ones. Theoretically this could be used to repair minor spinal cord damage in an individual. Again, I wonder how a virus is capable of this.

EXPERIMENT 21: Can a zombie starve to death? (ongoing)

This is an update from my previous entry regarding this experiment. As of yet the zombie is still 'alive', this is 6 weeks in. However, weight loss has been occurring, albeit at a very slow rate. This has slowed even more over time. Zombies do seem to require nourishment to survive, I had feared I had lost grip on my scientific reasoning. They appear to have an incredibly slow metabolism. It seems my subject will expire eventually, but after an extended period of time. Zombies able to access food will be able to survive for an incredbily long time, thus attempting to 'wait out' the Event may take longer than intially calculated.

Signing off

Doctor James Rhodes




Saturday 3 September 2011

MILITARY-ONE (2nd Entry)

Current Survivors (Left to right): 
(I decided to name everyone what they should have been named at birth because that's how the world works now)
Casual Jim
Captain Fuck-You
Doc Runts
Psycho-Bob
Fag-Boy













REPORT 100202

Primary news: Fag-boy refuses to cut his hair. I offered my barberistic services and he quite rudely rejected my advances. It seems my initial suspicions are correct. Only time will tell before he makes a homoerotic pass at me, possibly arranging himself naked in my bed as I attempt to turn myself in after a weary days work. I fear this moment greatly and has added what can only be described as extreme anxiety to my general movements and daily living. I constantly fear losing consciousness, be it he takes advantage of this moment.

Secondary news: The scouts have not yet returned and are probably dead. Retrospectively it might have been a bad idea to send them out in the jeep to retrieve the girl. I call it vicarious learning; I have gained knowledge from viewing the consequences of actions done by (now dead) others. It's what makes the world go round. That and the initial spin caused by asymmetrical gravitational accretion when the Earth formed. Does destroy the metaphor but who's counting points these days away. Anyway, not worth sending people to look for them, if they are alive they know how to make it back here. Got shit to do anyway. Operation Viperfish. Stupid fucking name but I don't get to make them. It was the last military order before communication went down, still got orders to carry out, do our part. I just hope everyone else is still go because if we're the only ones doing it we will royally fuck ourselves later.

I should also note we've sighted one of those quick bitten bastards outside the perimeter. Seems to be smart enough to keep out of range, maybe they're evolving? Quickly approaching the IQ of the average gym fanatic.

Signing off
Captain Fuck-You

Saturday 20 August 2011

MILITARY-ONE

Current Survivors (Left to right): 
(I decided to name everyone what they should have been named at birth because that's how the world works now)
Casual Jim
Captain Fuck-You
Doc Runts
Psycho-Bob













REPORT 100201 

DATE: 20/08/2011

KEY EVENTS:
We run out of cheese. I like cheese and I don't like running out of it. This must become PRIORITY ONE. Preferably those cheese slices in plastic sheets because they remind me of life on the farm and dew on the grass on a clear summers morning and all that shit. Doesn't remind me of ACTUAL shit because I don't like eating that and I like eating cheese. If I enjoyed eating shit I would be a very happy man because we have lots of shit. Technically we contain tiny shit-making factories inside of us. Might be useful if we ever encounter a trade situation where they want shit. Also sperm. 

Also discovered a civilian who calls himself Thomas on the roads heading out of Chelmsford. We took an instant liking to him because he had a bag of drugs. Drugs are almost as good as cheese these days. Didn't like his hair though - looks like a fag. Fags like shit don't they? Must make a mental note to see if he wants ours, might be a successful and prosperous trade relationship. Might make him take it anyway, something about a man carrying a bag of my shit which is hilarious. Another mental note.

Good news! Apparently fag-boy is with two more survivors near here. And guess what? One of them is a WOMAN. Might have to go 'rescue' her. If shes been around fags the whole time I'm sure she'll appreciate being around some real men for a while if you know what I mean. 

Scrap previous rescue plans - fag-boy left her with a bitten. She'll most likely be zombie food by now and probably less attractive (or more! Sometimes having a womans face bitten off is an improvement). Couldn't hurt to send some a couple of scouts and have a look. Plus, she might have some cheese! Tomorrow could possibly be the best day ever?

Signing off
Captain Fuck-You.

Friday 19 August 2011

Entry 6 - Maslow

CURRENT SURVIVORS:












 
I've been thinking a lot about purpose lately. What exactly am I surviving for? What exactly am I living for?

This made me think about pre-apocalypse days; what exactly was my purpose back then? The more I think the more I realise I have no idea. A career? I had one because that's what I was supposed to be doing and everyone else had one. Money had no value to me - having things were nice but it wasn't important. Others were determined to be the best, reach the top, be the smartest. And why? Just for the sake of it I think, feeling important and powerful by affirmations from others. Successful for successfuls sake. It just seems so pointless in retrospect.

A relationship? Sure it was nice but I don't believe my personal value should be dependent on another person. Making the world a better place? I don't believe many people do that for reasons that aren't selfish. True altruism is questionable, as much as I want it to exist. If I were to have done it, it would have been for the status, the attention and the feel-good factor. Are results more important than motivations and intentions? When it comes to self-worth I would say yes, definately. I realise now I had no meaningful goals. I had goals, sure. But they were provided by the autonomous, self-valued society I lived in. Now that society is gone it all seems a bit odd.

Maslow was a psychologist who proposed we can't have motivation to seek things like purpose and self-worth without first meeting our basic needs, such as safety and food. Well, these post-apocalypse days are the perfect test for this, basic needs are in a bit of short supply. So, surely I should be focusing on survival and ignoring the bigger picture for now? In truth, I have been focusing on survival. In these days Maslow's pyramid of needs is up-side down. I know my purpose: survive. Survive to keep our species alive. Survive to keep alive culture, knowledge, morals, intelligence. Is that not one of the greatest purposes ever? I needed an apocalypse to truly realise myself. Or maybe Maslow was right all along? This is me focusing on what Maslow said was basic needs. I confuse myself.

Anyway, still no sign of Thomas. Maybe I was a little quick to assume he's abandoned me. I'm now worried he might have run into trouble. Still, I'm in no rush. I'm going to wait at least a few days longer, although I might need to go find some supplies soon. Still no sign of Chris yet either...

Still surviving,
Katherine

P.S. I found an old newspaper clipping from pre-apocalypse days. I'm thinking of collecting these things, we'll see.

+ 2 NEWS PAPER CLIPPINGS FOUND

Thursday 18 August 2011

Entry 5 - Bitten (Day 4)

CURRENT SURVIVORS:


This was a huge mistake, but it's now too late. Thomas still hasn't returned and now I'm beginning to think he's abandoned me. I'm alone here.

Chris is gone. He started calling out for someone called Susan, he's never spoken about her before. He didn't recognise me at all, when Susan didn't come he claimed I had harmed her and in his confusion he turned violent. He hit me. I locked him in one of the bedrooms upstairs and hoped he didn't make too much noise. He didn't. When I checked on him a couple of hours later, he was just sitting there on the floor, dribbling and staring into space. About an hour later he turned. It was like nothing I've seen before. He was a zombie, but it was different. He didn't die. It would of been better if he had.

I now understand there is a difference between the zombies which are the infected dead, what we've seen so far, and the infected living. He was FAST. Actually fast. Not the shambling idiots I'm used to. Impossibly strong too, he tore through the bedroom door and then minced the barricaded front door. There were bits of wood and blood everywhere. He had bled. Normal Zombies don't bleed. If he had seen me I would be dead. I managed to hide in one of the rooms downstairs when I heard the bedroom door being smashed. I peeked through a slant in the window and saw him running down the hill. A whole more dangerous zombie. Why haven't we seen this before? Maybe because people don't usually survive a zombie attack. I've also been caring for him, keeping him alive.

I reblocked the front door with everything I could find, I'll use the back door for the time being. I'm going to wait a bit longer for Thomas. He's the only thing I have left now, I can't leave. Please don't let him have abandoned me. I'm scared. Whatever Chris has become is still out there somewhere.

Still surviving
Katherine

NEW ZOMBIE DISCOVERED

Wednesday 17 August 2011

Entry 4 - Tips for the budding Zombie Apocalypse Survivor

There's currently no change in Chris, and no sign of Thomas - I'm hoping he hasn't run into trouble. So I've decided to pass the time by writing down some tips for any people in the future who might read this. Read and take heed:

CLOTHING
  • Needs to be tight fitting and flexible, nothing for a Zombie to grab hold of. You should also avoid 'loud' materials on your clothes - those swishy trousers are hard to sneak around in.
  • Conventional body armour is useless. However, you can protect the most vulnerable zombie bite spots: ankle, wrists, neck and shoulders. Ankles with high leather boots, preferably steel capped- Useful for those times zombies are lurking under things. Wrists with any kind of bite-resistant material, I again use a leather band that protects my entire forearm but stays flexible - a little itchy and sweaty but worth it. Thomas uses long hand wraps used for martial arts although any tough material will do in a pinch. Neck and shoulders are less easily covered, I've sown in extra material on the shoulders but neck is bare for the moment, will improvise if i find the right thing. 
  • Unless you stick near a water source, such as a river or lake, you will have limited opportunities to wash your clothes. You will smell. Bad. Ideally clothes should be replaced whenever you get a chance.
WEAPONS
  • As always, and not yet fully understood why, a zombie can only be killed by massive trauma to the brain. In other words, aim for the head.
  • Unless you're outside the UK or live on a farm, the likelihood you have access to a gun is very limited. If you can, get hold of one. However, DO NOT fire guns unless absolutely necessary. Guns are last resort weapons used only in a pinch or if being overrun. Now society is practically gone, the world is silent. A gunshot will draw zombies for miles around, revealing your position and reducing your chances of escape. Noise tends to draw zombies together into groups. These groups then move together, making them more dangerous.
  • Blunt Melee weapons (such as bats or crowbars) are first choice for single or small groups of zombies. Piercing weapons, such as axes, are also ok, but are more likely to get stuck. With melee watch out for blood splatter! Safety goggles are handy if available. 
FOOD AND WATER
  • Bottled water, rain water and boiled water are ideal. Other water sources, such as streams or rivers, may be potentially contaminated from Zombies up-stream. If possible, boil water taken from rivers. In the early days, bottled water will be plentiful, once this becomes diminished switch to other methods. Luckily, Britain has a fair amount of rainfall, develop a system to use this to collect water.
  • Hoard food whenever possible. Ration it, consume only as needed. Consume in order of expiry dates. Perishable goods should be eaten first, canned goods eaten last. Remember, if you get ill from expired/uncooked food, there is no doctor to help you.
  • Raid empty homes for food stores. The apocalypse happened so quickly a lot of people didn't have time to store or take food with them when trying to escape. 
SHELTER
  • When arriving in a new property ensure the entire house is secure.
  • Temporary housing can suffice with simple hiding. Keep quiet and out of sight, block line of sight through windows and block doors. Remaining undetected is first priority. A quick escape route should be decided between survivors beforehand.
  • Longer term accommodation should be secured properly. Boarding up windows, with backup measures should the zombies break through (e.g. easily blockable stairs).
  • Dead bodies need to be buried to protect from disease.
GENERAL
  • Remember: If you injury yourself or become ill, there is no doctor! Normal diseases or ailments we used to easily be able to cure and now life threatening.
  • The key to survival is being undetected. Zombies have sheer numbers on their side, fighting will only result in drawing in further zombies.
  • Travel only during the day. While the zombies are actually less active during the night, a lack of electricity means nights are now pitch black. Using a flashlight will make you a giant glowing interest for zombies. Seek shelter before night fall.

Well, that's it for now!  A snap shot of knowledge, I'll add some more in the future.

Still surviving,
Katherine

Tuesday 16 August 2011

Entry 3 - Bitten (Day 2)

CURRENT SURVIVORS:


Chris got worse in the night. No signs of physical symptoms associated with regular viruses yet. Instead, Chris developed at am alarming rate another symptom just as bad - cognitive decline. He repeatedly lost his grasp on our situation; forgetting what we were talking about, not remembering our names and a couple of times seeming to forget the complete collapse of society as we know it. I've seen this sort of thing before - dementia.

Thomas has gone. He left for the nearest hospital to get hold of some medicine. I have no idea if it will work but I've asked him to grab some dementia drugs (Aricept is the only one I know), anti-psychotics (I know they're used for dementia, don't know what/why/how!) asprin and antibiotics (couldn't hurt!). It's a risk; the larger towns will be swarming, but Thomas is pretty sneaky. He should be back by tomorrow. I just hope it can make a difference. Dementia drugs are not designed to cure decline, rather slow it down or stop it, at least until the body adapts to the drug. A small voice of hope in me says if we can keep Chris alive and sane, his body will fight the infection and survive.

Meanwhile all we can do is wait. The Zeds are on the increase, a load appeared outside the house today. They don't seem to be aware of us yet. I just hope Chris doesn't break down any further. If he starts to call out in his confusion I might need to gag him, we're in no situation to be found.
The Zeds seem to have a natural migration between areas, outside the everyday commuting they do. I'm sure there's a pattern there if someone was interested enough to study it.

Commuting is what we call the times the Zeds are the most active and mobile; around the old commuting times, 7-8am and 5-6pm. I'm pretty sure it's a type of ghosting. What terrifies me most now about dying isn't the concept of death, but the idea I might still be damned to travel to fucking work everyday.

I'll continue to monitor Chris and hope Thomas gets back in time.

Still surviving
Katherine

Entry 2 - Bitten

CURRENT SURVIVORS:

Chris was bitten last night. He managed to hide it until this morning, but it became obvious very quickly. He cried. I cried.

We don’t know what to do. According to the rumours, those that have been bitten are infected and will die. This might not be true; there were a lot of dramatic stories in the early days. Everything from smoking zombies with huge tongues to zombies that can’t come out during the day- both which turned out to be false.

Chris, Thomas and I discussed what we needed to do. Chris wanted us to kill him. He's a bit dramatic for things like that. We don't have guns, it wouldn't be quick, and it would involve us basically beating him to death. Despite everything we’ve done, none of us are prepared to murder someone alive.

Thomas said we could leave him. I’m not prepared to abandon Chris if there’s a chance he’ll survive. Thomas said we’ve survived by avoiding risks. We argued. It got heated. He lost.

It was agreed. We stay. We make this house a fortress, we gather supplies and medicine and we wait. We pray the rumours aren't true.

The cottage is isolated at the top of a hill, in a small hamlet of about eight houses. Half a mile down the road is the nearest village, Blackmore, population no more than a few hundred with limited services. About 10 miles North is Chelmsford, a much larger town with it's own hospital. We should see minimal zombies here in this isolated spot, so if we’re going to bunker down for a while this place is as good as any.

We started immediately. We salvaged wood from the furniture in the house, smashing up the wooden chairs, dining table and shed out the back, which contained some handy tools and nails. The windows and unused doors were boarded up.

Next we gathered all the food, water and batteries we had, which wasn't a lot. The three of us raided three of the eight surrounding houses - all abandoned - taking the food and bottled water we found.
Good thing about middle-class country folk is their strong desire to drink bottled water. I used to laugh at the pointlessness of bottled water, the ultimate consumer product, paying for something we get basically for free. Only idiots and the smug would buy 'better' H2O. Now I praise their very souls every time I find a stash in a dead fridge- life's funny like that. Gotta be flexible.

The final thing we had to do is bury Chris’s biter; our night time intruder. Despite the anger, I can only pity these things. It’s easy to forget every single one had a life; worries, goals, self esteem issues, love, bad habits... Everything that makes us human. Pictures around the house tell me she's a mother of two.

Even so, we buried her only to protect us from disease. Our faces were grim.

Still surviving,
Katherine

Monday 15 August 2011

Entry 1 - 'Ghosts'

CURRENT SURVIVORS:

Last night Chris didn't block the door properly and a ghost got in.

We're held up in a countryside cottage just east of London. We've been moving slowly out of the capital, we figure the lower population will give us a better chance out here. The cottage was abandoned but I found some delicious canned goods in the pantry. We chowed down the cold beans (straight from the tin of course- don't want to seem too classy) and settled for the night.

Settling involves a process of covering windows with sheets. The zeds, or zombies for you folks keen on maintaining good English during the apocalypse, are pretty stupid and actually less mobile at night. However, they still see us moving around inside. The doors leading into the house are blocked with wood or furniture to stop the zeds accidentally stumbling across us. You see, they won't usually bother you if they don't know you're there - so keep the lights off and keep quiet. Then there are the ghosts.

When the virus, or whatever the hell this is, takes over your body, you lose who you are. However you keep some of our most basic instincts. Turns out we're stupid, violent bastards. You'll quite happily munch on your mothers face to quell a mild appetite. They can't figure out doors, walk in straight lines or keep up with current affairs. They're also not great at parties. Except the exceptions of course. When a zed is ghosting, it is repeating some ingrained routine or instinct it had during it's life. For us last night, this meant our vacant, decaying home owner returned, used her key in the lock and stood in the front room. Much to the surprise to the three of us.

Chris was nice enough to go bash out her brains with a cricket bat himself. For those unaware, England hasn't got many guns. Not that they would be much use, one shot would draw zombies for miles, curious and cuddly as they are. Luckily no other zombies seemed to notice the commotion. Anyhow, tomorrow we're heading further east to see if we can find a better spot, so I'll give an update then.

Still surviving,
Katherine

NEW ZOMBIE DISCOVERED:

Welcome to the world reader. This blog follows a group of survivors shortly after the start of the zombie apocalypse. Why am I doing this? Mostly for personal entertainment - I do love the zombie world, I have lots of ideas to write about. Do I expect anyone to read it? Not really, though that would be nice. One idea I'd like is for any readers to suggest scenarios/events for the characters in the comment section or emails, and I will write it into the story. Bit of interactivity for you. Go crazy. Anyway, lots of characters, pondering on life and, of course, zombie science coming up. Thanks for actually reading.