MILITARY-ONE (3rd entry)

Current Survivors (Left to right): 

Casual Jim

Captain Fuck-You

Doc Runts

Gingerine

Fag-Boy

REPORT: 100206

It seems our couple of rescuees have settled in nicely. I say rescued. Rescued from what to which I have no idea. We do have a moat-type defence. I feel this trumps all and hasn't been mentioned enough, I must make a mental note to slip it repeatedly into conversation. Otherwise things are very much the same. We are safe here, hidden away (behind a moat). Doc Runts is keen on broadcasting our location on a short wave frequency in an attempt to potentially draw in other survivors. We have plenty of bed space and food to maintain a small group until this thing blows over, but I have refused. New survivors are unknown variables and I’m not keen on the unknown. The current situation dictates the priority of my own personal survival and the survival of the rest of my team. This may sound cold, but I have no interest in rescuing anyone else at this current time. I do not feel dutifully inclined either, as the Doc keeps trying to push on me. I haven’t told him yet, but there are several broadcasts on the airwaves promising secure societies nearby. I am unsure how he will react to this news. 

On another note, I have decided to tell fag-boy and gingerine about our involvements in the military responses to the zombie threat. This includes the Romford massacre. There was a lot of despise for the military, well, in the short time between events and the majority of people being eaten alive. They are welcome to stay, or leave if they wish. If the decide to stay it will be on one condition. This condition is vital, not only for my own well-being, but for the continued survival of the human race as a species: I cut fag-boys hair. I will not be swayed. I will not be bargained with. Begging is useless. I have no mercy for that irritating bundle of cells insulating that boy’s head. I will not spend another day while it watches me from a distance, ever gloating, almost gleefully. If I see one more shimmer from a grease ridden hair particle I fear I may go mad. I will lay all of this on the table before them and see how they react. Time will tell.

Signing off,

Captain Fuck-You

+ 2 NEWS CLIPPINGS FOUND

Entry 10 - Morality is a luxury

It's very easy for people to predict how they will react in a situation. God knows I used to do it. It's a bit embarrassing thinking back to all the time I wasted on 'What if?' daydreaming. What if a gunman walked into the door right now? What if someone tried to mug me? What if I had to choose to dive in front of a car to save someone? Of course, the majority of these daydreams ended with me miraculously saving the day in an altruistic and impressive manner while everyone else dithered uselessly. The point is everyone has mental representations how they expect to behave. With astounding accuracy I can tell you these are wrong.

It’s a horrible feeling, the realisation of having a choice of action in a moment of fear. Adrenaline, which you aren’t used to, pumps around your body, making you shake. In your mind you can feel aspects of your beliefs and values literally clashing. The dyadic between right and wrong, violence and passivity, fight and flight begin to shout at each other. What usually happens in moments like these for the inexperienced is... nothing. You freeze. Unable to untangle these thoughts that occur in a split second, no decision is made. The moment then either passes or forces action from you. Either way, this moment will stay with you for the rest of your life, ready to rear its head whenever you begin to feel happy, an ugly reminder of the fragility of your humanity.

I have regrets. They haunt me to this day, and I suspect they will haunt me to my dying breath. Why am I telling you this you may wonder? I feel obliged to inform you. I am a survivor, not a victim. To think otherwise would be a mistake, one that several have made since this outbreak started. I only ask, gentle reader, that you don’t judge me too harshly. Like everyone else, I was inexperienced; I didn’t know how to act. You can’t apply the morality of the pre-apocalyptic world to this new one. It collapsed in on itself so quickly many people died because they couldn’t make the choice they needed to. I managed to make enough to keep myself alive, but sometimes I wish I hadn’t. It’s not easy living with blood on your hands.

Nothing is black or white, nor does anyone have the luxury to decide to be. It was easier to picture things this way, it’s hard to see straight when everything is gray.

Still Surviving,

Katherine

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