Zompocalypse Diaries (QUICK edit finished)

November 22, 2012

Nov. 22, 2012

Dear Journal

It's time to leave home already. I had hoped to have a few days to prepare myself and get enough rest, but I made the mistake of sleeping downstairs last night.

I thought it might be better to be somewhere I could keep a closer eye on the goings on of the neighborhood but one of the shuffling horrors spotted me, asleep, on the chaise by the window.

I awoke to an almost musical tinkling and undead moans. The shower of glass that rained upon me brought me out of my grogginess and I leapt to my feet.

I raced across the living room to my zombie kit as the corpse of a young boy (one I'd baby sat numerous times), pulled himself through the broken window, sharp bits around the edges shredding his already ravaged skin. I grabbed the hammer from the kit and made quick work of him, one swing caving in his little skull. I think I should have felt worse about it, it was just a child but it was me or him and hell if I'm giving up my life for something that's already dead.

I covered the tiny body before I did anything else, I couldn't bear to look at him while I worked.

I rushed through the house, taking anything I thought could possibly be of help. I grabbed more boxed snacks and canned foods from the kitchen, throwing in a light pan I could use to warm the food over a fire if I ever had the chance.

I blew into the bathroom next, meaning to raid the medicine cabinet but pausing to take a last look at myself before pulling open the mirror. My highlighted brown locks fell in waves down to my shoulders, would this be the last time I saw it so clean? Already clouded blue eyes stared back and a light dusting of freckles fell across my nose. I sighed and threw the medicine cabinet open.

After clearing the bathroom, a quick run through my bedroom produced a change of clothes and a heavy sweater. I also grabbed a light, fleece blanket off my bed and rolled it up to strap to the top of my kit.

I left a quick note to my mom, in case she ever made her way back here. I wanted to say so much more but there was no time to be sentimental. A scrawled 'I'm safe for now and I love you' would have to do.

I rushed through the garage door, grabbing my dad's car keys from the hook over his work table. He wouldn't be needing them anymore.

One last search through his tool box produced some long nails and wire cutters, I'm sure they could be of use.

Finally I jumped into the car, ready to leave. I checked the gauges after starting the car and realized I probably wouldn't be able to stop at many gas stations when the need arose. I couldn't just walk, unguarded, through the streets though.

I cursed and got back out of the car, leaving it running. I spotted a gas can in the corner and threw it in the trunk. How could I fill the gas can though?

I spotted a rubber tube, maybe three feet in length and rushed to it, testing it's strength and flexibility. Perfect. It wasn't brittle at all, I could use it to siphon gas when needed.

I ran back around the car after tossing the tube next to the gas can and used the remote on my dads visor to open the garage door. After a quick glance behind me, I backed out into the driveway. I paused to push the button once again to close the door, I didn't want anything getting in, I hoped to someday return.

I saw half a woman's body pulling it's way towards the door, intestines trailing behind it. I stayed put and watched the heavy door close on the head of the woman, crushing it, along with any hopes it had of finding a meal within.

"Stupid flesh bag." I grumbled as I backed up and made my way around the many vehicles that had come to rest in the road.

Slowly making my way through the mass of bodies, both dead and undead, I thought about where I could possibly go now. I flipped on the radio, hoping to hear anything that could help me. Nothing but static answered. No music, no instructions, no crappy radio talk stations. Wasn't the military supposed to help in times like these? Weren't they supposed to protect their country?

That's when it hit me. Military bases! I didn't want to find one that was still occupied, there was no telling what horrors could befall an over populated area like a base.

I couldn't think of any abandoned bases in or around northern California. A base or bunker would give me great protection though...if it wasn't too obvious to outsiders.

I thought hard as I slowly and aimlessly navigated the streets of my hometown. I reached to my kit, my father's old camping bag, and pulled a box of crackers from inside.

The car was filled with silence, only broken by the sound of the crunching crackers in my mouth and the light static from the radio.

I remembered my Dad always begging us to go camping with him, he really loved being outdoors. I should have given gone more often, there would be no more chances for family camping trips now.

One trip we did make with him jumped to mind. We went camping and hiking in Tillamook Head in Oregon and I remembered Dad pointing out an abandoned underground bunker there, almost hidden by the growth of the forest around it.

It was perfect. Mostly hidden from view and, hopefully, still sturdy. As long as I could find a way in and out and keep quiet, I would be safe. It had been years since we'd gone but given a map I could easily find the place.

I would need to stock up on more food, drink and supplies before I left for Tillamook, I wasn't planning on leaving the bunker much after I got in.

So, step one- more supplies. Step two- get a map. Step three- get to the bunker and wait this out. I totally have this.