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