Journal of Alexander Bryce

Entrie 06

August 24, 2023

32 days into the apocalypse.

Can't believe it's over a month already since all this began. Guess time flies by in situations like this.

Things have been looking up I guess.

Oh, and I found a fellow survivor.

His name is James, James Marston. He's 25 years old, and built like a tank. Standing at over 6 feet, he looks like a wall of muscle, with a slightly tanned skin, ruffled black hair and sharp brown eyes.

He said he used to work in a gun store, and even went on hunting with his father. I guess at least the latter claim is true, because this guy is terrific with his .223 bolt action hunting riffle.

How I met him is also quite a story.

It was probably a week or more days after the last entry I made. So far I had managed to avoid getting jumped by the zombies. For good reasons too. Despite having two fire arms on my name, I was no pro shooter. Besides my shotgun only had 2 shells remaining in the tube, and I don't think the Glock will be enough to take out these freaks.

But on that certain day, my luck had run out once more. While searching for food and other provisions, I accidentally ran into a group of Plagued hiding in the shadows. And end up getting chased by them.

I ran in order to escape from them, even firing my Glock at them a few times. The recoil hurt my wrist, not too much though, but I don't think I had managed to shoot down any Plagued that day. At least didn't seem like I did.

Soon, they had me cornered against a car crash site infront of a building. As a last ditch attempt, I slid off my shotgun off my shoulder and put it into use, shooting down two of them. But it wasn't enough.

Another Plagued was about to lung on me, but suddenly a shot rang out, and the Plagued dropped on the ground.

I remember how James had appeared out of nowhere, like a damn guardian angle. He hurriedly told me to follow him, and so I did, as he guided me inside a nearby building. The Plagued chased after us, but James had made quick work of them with his rifle, before we hid in a room and he blocked off the door with a heavy cabinet present in the room.

I remember our conversation on that day very clearly.

We both were sitting on the floor, panting in exhaustion, when he asked me,"You okay?"

"Yeah." I had answered.

"I'm James. James Marston."

"Alexander Bryce. But I prefer Alex."

"Well, glad to meet you Alex. Honestly, I thought I was the only fool left in this hell hole."

We spent quite a while, talking abd discussing about things. It was,...... Kinda nice. Having an actual proper conversation with a fellow human being for the first time in many days I've spent here.

I told him about my plan, and James had asked if he could join me.

With his skills with a riffle, and outdoorsman skills, it would have been a total bad decision if I had said no. Besides, having a good companion during these times can be really beneficial. If I had to spend more days in this hell hole alone, I think I'd have started to go mad.

So, I agreed.

James even gifted me some shotgun shells he had on him. And even taught me how to properly use my guns during our travels. We wasted some bullets and I'm still no pro, but he says my posture has improved quite a bit.

Two days ago, we had managed to cross the Brooklyne bridge. We're now in Brooklyne, taking out shelter in an abandoned office building.

James is currently resting on the floor, leaning against the wall. His trusty .223 rifle by his side, and a Colt .45 revolver strapped on his hip, while I'm writing my journal. We're both sitting in a position so that either of us are in the line of view of the other.

I don't know if James fully trusts me, but I wouldn't blame him if he doesn't. I won't even trust my shadow in these times. Have watched way too many shows, movies, and games, to know what happens when you put too much trust on a person you just met.

I think I should try to get some rest myself too. We've got a long way to go tomorrow.