Jeffrey McElyea's Zombie Compilation

by Jeffrey McElyea

  3:21 p.m.

  My spear was a great idea! Took out and burned three more of those freaks. Hopefully my fear of them will eventually be converted to hate or disgust. If only I could psych myself into it.

  I made the spear out of the wooden shower rod I found when I moved in here. I’m glad I never got around to throwing it out. I combined the shower rod with duct tape, more duct tape and a machete blade. I’ll reapply the duct tape and sharpen the blade when necessary. I’ve used so much duct tape. There’s no chance of it coming apart while I’m in combat.

  I decapitated one of them. It took a few swings but I managed. It made me feel like a badass. I’m trying to decide if swinging it like a baseball bat or running at and piercing through the eye or back of the head is better. I should practice both. I can’t swing it in an enclosed space.

  I found my neighbors in the trailer to my right. None of them were among the living. There was a note in the bedroom.

  “If you find this, do what has to be done. Please don’t leave us like this. Thank you. God in heaven awaits our arrival.”

  Both the parents and children were tied up. I’m thinking one caught the disease and spread it to the others. They didn’t want to risk hurting anyone. Of all my neighbors, they were the most positive. Unlike the guy across the street.

  He was a registered sex offender in his early thirties. He was covered in tattoos, had huge gauges in his ears and a ridiculous amount of face piercings. He’d angrily mumble beneath his breath and give you the stink eye if he saw you outside.

  He’d argue with his guests and throw late night parties that’d keep the elderly neighbors awake. In turn, the police often showed up at his place. He’d get scolded a lot by whom I believe were his parents and grandparents. His behavior indicated the use of illegal drugs.

  On several occasions, I’d be in the middle of doing yard work or car maintenance and overhear him shouting empty suicide threats. Young teenage girls who weren’t old enough to drive a vehicle were at his place on numerous occasions. He received so many well deserved ass beatings, one of which was administered by yours truly. Words cannot explain the disgust. Wherever he is, I hope he’s dead.

  The family next door left their food, fluids and useful supplies in grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Each grocery bag had a Christmas bow taped to it. Dealt with undead children again. Found the keys to their van and compact car with the note. I moved the two vehicles to fill the gap between our trailers. Thanks, Hineon family.

  I used their furniture and junk to fill smaller gaps beneath and around the vehicles. I finally have a good area of thirty to forty feet. I can finally move around with a bit of confidence. I feel safer. The sense of accomplishment is probably similar to how a cave man felt when he discovered fire.

  8:22 p.m.

  More and more of those things are showing up. It’s either bad luck or the gunshot from earlier that attracted them here. My skill with the spear is improving. Still scared. Pretty sure I will be until this is over or I die.

  When it gets dark, I will always come inside. With the area barricaded, all I have to do is poke at the heads from one side of the barricade until I do enough damage to the brain. I can’t help but freak out when they reach for me.

  9:14 a.m. December 1st

  More gunshots today. Those idiots are going to keep attracting more of the undead. Maybe that’s a strategy of theirs. I doubt it. Wish the zombies would get them. I’d prefer their deaths over mine. I don’t know where the gunshots are coming from. They’re not coming from far away. The blasts were definitely from a shotgun. Whoever keeps shooting is making everything more difficult.

  I need a shower, but I’m not about to waste that much water. So far, all I’m doing for my hygienic needs is washing my face, armpits and groin with a wet washcloth and brushing my teeth. I wish I had someone to talk to. I’m feeling pretty lonely.

  I need to come up with a new project or hobby. I can’t think of anything other than writing in this blank journal. So far, I’m thinking it’s the only thing helping me maintain what bit of sanity I have left.

  5:12 p.m. December 4th

  The six armed men came back. They shot at the trailer a few times. The projectiles penetrated the back bedroom’s wall. I was lucky enough to be in the living room when it happened. The gunshots attracted more monsters. I can’t go out and take care of them yet.

  Three small pickup trucks, two people in each truck, keep passing by once every hour and fire a shot at the side of my trailer. Yeah, they’re the same psychopaths from before. My nerves are wrecked, so wrecked I can barely write. There are over forty zombies surrounding my area. I either die or fight back. It’s time to go to war.

  6:50 p.m.

  I won. Thanks to the group of nearby zombies, I was able to defeat them. At six o’ clock, the three trucks passed through. The large number of zombies prevented them from speeding through like they had before. Assault rifle in hand, I had a round in the chamber. My magazine was fully loaded, as was the one in my pocket.

  I waited behind one of the mattresses on the porch. Those idiots should have changed their times of arrival. They showed up once per hour on the dot. I’m glad they weren’t too smart about it. When they passed through, the undead surrounded all three trucks. As the six men focused on the zombies, I picked them off one by one.

  They’re all dead. The ones I killed without headshots became zombies. They weren’t bitten, though. The disease must be in the air or water. That is, unless this is a religious ordeal.

  I have to deal with the many undead here and the ones probably heading this way. It’s getting dark. I can’t kill them all. I killed twenty or so with the rifle. I’m calling it a day. I’ll wear ear plugs tonight and deal with the rest in the morning. I just killed six living people. I wish the situation could have ended peacefully, but it was them or me.

  10:16 a.m. December 5th

  I woke up around six thirty. Didn’t take out the ear plugs until I finished my coffee and breakfast. The constant moaning is very bad for my nerves. I’m alone with those monsters. This is a real nightmare. I cried for two hours.

  I’m angry about the unfair situation, sad due to being alone and scared because I’m surrounded by flesh eating monsters. I cried as I killed one zombie after another. I tried talking to them to see if there was any humanity left in them. Nope. I even begged the undead in the trucks to say something. Nothing. I don’t know if I need human interaction. I can’t lose my mind.

  12:30 p.m.

  That was a lot of bodies to burn. I can’t do that again. It takes too much gasoline. I guess I’ll start dragging them off to somewhere.

  I’m making quite the base out of this place. I used sheets and blankets to cover the open areas of the barricades. I can’t see outside the sheets or blankets, but nothing and no one can see me from the other side.

  Placed two ladders I found against both sides of the trailer. Never know when I might need to use one of them. I can get a good view from the top of the trailer now. I can observe the trailer park from above and prevent being surprised by the undead or living.

  Using more sheets and nails I found from some of the surrounding trailers, I created a canopy stretching from one end of my trailer to the Hineon family’s trailer. It should provide a small bit of protection from the cold wind. I moved the three trucks in front of the right side’s barricade. I’ll eventually make a big hole in the side of the Hineon family’s trailer facing me. Wouldn’t have to travel to the other side of the trailer to get in there anymore. Might use it to escape one day. Not sure what I’ll use the trailer for. Maybe I’ll grow plants in it later. Have to keep my mind occupied.

  5:15 p.m.

  There are a lot of them. Not quite one hundred of them but definitely over sixty. They just keep coming. I guess I should start expecting it instead of being surprised by it. Not too much water left at Cathy’s. I think the temperature’s getting in the thirties now.

  9:30 p.m.

 
; It’s so cold. Had to light the kerosene heater. I placed what I could in front of the main bedroom door to prevent heat loss. To put it bluntly, this is going to suck. It’s only going to get colder.

  7:15 a.m. December 6th

  Not going outside until noon. It’s too cold right now. I woke up to the sound of a gunshot. It definitely came from within the trailer park. Someone is in the trailer park.

  12:36 p.m.

  We were standing on top of our trailers when we saw each other. I worried and wondered if he was going to get the jump on me and kill me. I’m pretty sure he was wondering the same thing. Before I waved, we stared at each other for several seconds. He waved back. I was scared to death.

  He was to my left and four trailers down. I gestured with my index finger that I’d be right back. He understood. He was still there when I climbed back up with some poster board and markers. He gestured he’d be right back and came back with a marker and dry erase board.

  Me- “Are you infected?”

  Him- “No. Thirsty.”

  Me- “Alone?”

  Him- “Yes. Everyone dead.”

  Me- “Infection?”

  Him- “Yes. Killed them.”

  Me- “Name?”

  Him- “Roger. Automobile mechanic.” “Fifty-six. Army veteran.”

  Me- “Supplies?”

  Roger- “Everything but water.”

  Me- “Good runner?”

  Roger- “Wounded. Desert Storm.” “Prosthetic leg.”

  Me- “Zombies?”

  Roger- “Yes. Surrounded.” “Other side. Used gun.” “Bad idea. More came.” “Noise is bad.”

  Me- “You own the big truck?”

  Roger- “Yes.”

  Me- “Nice ride. Haha.”

  Roger- “Thanks.”

  Me- “No moaning. Why?”

  Roger- “Not sure. Staring at me.”

  Me- “Stay. Will bring water.” “Be right back.”

  Roger- “God bless you.” “Be careful.”

  2:16 p.m.

  Roger’s a good guy. I used firecrackers to attract the zombies. After disposing of the eight or nine undead, I quickly made my way to his trailer with two bottles of water. When I got close, he fired off a shot.

  He saved my life. One of those things had crept up behind me. Note to self: Don’t underestimate a zombie’s hunting abilities. Some don’t moan. Can they think? Or are they just predators that have the natural ability to be quiet? Or is it luck? Not sure.

  We exchanged thanks as I tossed up the water. Before I ran back to my sanctuary, he also gave me a two way radio. Shortly after, I got a voiceover.

  “Hey, son. You there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Name’s David.”

  “Good to know there’s still good minded folks left.”

  “Keep the volume of your voice and the radio down. We don’t need to attract any attention.”

  “Copy that.”

  It feels good knowing there’s someone else here, someone I can trust. I have an ally! This is a big morale boost. We spoke of many things. How this could have happened, whether or not this is the end of days, whether or not this was God’s plan, how the disease spreads, how many people will survive, possibility of a cure, the situation with the men I killed and more.

  Excluding emergencies and sleep, we agreed to check in with each other every several hours. Is he worth sharing my provisions with? Damn right, he is! He’s a war veteran. He saved my life. He deserves to be on my team.

  I hope he can help with construction and gardening. His one leg and age impairs his movement. I can’t expect him to be able to move quickly. Great shooter, though. Him being a war veteran, I think it’d take a lot to scare him.

  8:40 p.m.

  Roger radioed me around six. He spoke of how he secured his home. Moved his truck, boarded up the windows and blocked the door. He nailed 2x4’s to seal up the windows. I’m not sure if he thought about what would result from the noise. He couldn’t open his front door. There were too many of them at his door.

  I disposed of them. The gunshot attracted more. If he hadn’t fired that shot, I would have died. His trailer had no porch. Because he sealed his windows, he couldn’t aim at them from inside. To eliminate all the threats, he has to make a hole in the roof, attract them with noise and do his thing with the rifle.

  We came up with a strategy to destroy the undead coming into the area. It was probably overly overcomplicated, but it worked. Roger would bang on the front door to lure them to his front door. Then he’d climb to the top of his trailer using one of my ladders. If needed, he’d alert me while I killed as many zombies as I could from behind while he provided support from above.

  9:20 p.m.

  I did my best to encourage Roger. I’m not sure if I’ll allow him in my base yet. Right now, I feel that trust has to be established. I like it how it is. Yes, he saved my life. But I’m being cautious.

  9:50 p.m.

  The radio started a new looped broadcast. All channels had the same subject. The old channels said the same thing. Not sure who the speaker was. I’m guessing he was a man of great importance.

  “To anyone listening, this is a nationwide broadcast. All continents and major landmasses have fallen to this… infection. Evacuate all major cities. In an attempt to control the spread, all state capitals will be bombed by the U.S. government. This is a global pandemic. To save lives, this must be done. The northern states are almost completely lost. The United Kingdom and Australia are not responding. The infection threatens the survival of humanity. The infected are winning this battle. If you can, build your defenses, ration your food, create irrigation systems and start growing food. Another broadcast will be made again when and if it is possible. We are working on a cure. Enough damage to the brain can and will subdue the infected. If someone you know has been bitten or scratched, know the person is infected and should be avoided. Whether or not one comes into contact with one of the infected, the body reanimates after death. We believe the air or water has been polluted. Do not try to reason with the infected. God bless America and her people.”

  Roger heard the broadcast, too. Using a few more vehicles and 2x4’s from Cathy’s back yard, I’m slowly blocking off the undead. I created a warning mechanism with empty vegetable cans and fishing line. I strung the cans together and strategically placed several lines in specific areas around my sanctuary. It should be effective. My defenses can be easily penetrated by humans, but not the undead. The fact that I can’t be seen from many angles while being outside brings some peace of mind.

  4:00 a.m. December 7th

  Roger asked me for water. After throwing a few bottles up to him, I saw something I didn’t want to. There are so many of them coming through. Now I know why Roger sounded so depressed. I asked him to move in with me but he said he’d be fine. I’m not so sure about that. I only gave him enough water to last him for a day or so. I was wondering when larger groups of them would show up. They’re here now.

  7:00 a.m.

  There are hundreds of them. I don’t think there’s any way in which we can handle that many. I won’t dare take a peek. Before I hunkered down, the last thing I saw was a horde of them walking past the left barricade.

  I’m too scared to leave my bedroom. I may just urinate on myself or in a cup so I won’t have to risk making noise by getting up and going to the latrine I made. Yeah, about the latrine. I used the hole in the floor of the hallway where the washer and dryer were. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was too frightened to go outside.

  I was standing atop the trailer when my motivation and positivity were destroyed. I saw hundreds of rotting, smelling, cannibalistic monsters walking out of the forest. Maybe they’ll keep walking until they fall off the nearby cliff. That’s what I’m hoping for. They were headed in that direction. I hear the cans clinking and clanking together. I also hear one of them grazing against the trailer right outside my bedroom. One sneeze and my cover is blown.

  The moan
s are what get to me. It’s demonic. The sounds they make and their appearances are most frightening. Sometimes, the fear makes me cry. It’s like they’re hunting for me, looking for someone or something living to eat. While their bloodshot eyes show transparency, they know what they’re looking for. If they see you, that transparency converts to primal hate or desperate and feral tendencies.

  They’re dead. Their nerves probably are, too. I’m glad those things aren’t intelligent. I wonder how they stay together in large numbers. Do they acknowledge each other? Is it a coincidence? Do they just hear a sound and coincidentally form groups? I wonder if they know what they are. I’m getting really tired of sitting here.

  12:45 p.m.

  I’ve just been sitting here. Motionless. My writing hand is the only thing moving. Yep. Just scared and writing down my thoughts. I’ve urinated on myself. I don’t care. I’m sure most of the world is gone. I’ve been thinking heavily on that. I’ve been through the crying. It doesn’t make anything better. I won’t cry anymore. I wish those things would go away.

  5:00 p.m.

  Slowly moved to the other side of the trailer and attempted to contact Roger. No response.

  5:30 p.m.

  Tried contacting him again. Still no response. I won’t try again for a while. A number of things could explain why he isn’t responding. Batteries in his radio could be dead. He could have it turned off because he was afraid the noise would give away his location. I don’t know. I hope he’s alright.

  9:00 a.m. December 11th

  I haven’t heard from Roger since the seventh. Not about to risk trying to find out. I don’t want to get him or myself killed. The only way I’d be able to find out if he’s okay would be to go outside. Three days without water will kill a person. I hope he found a way to get some fluids. Maybe he didn’t think about the toilet water before.

  The large droves of zombies passed through, but there are many stragglers. I only see seven of them from my bedroom window. I’m sure there are more elsewhere. I’ve been stuck in this trailer for four days. I’m getting stir crazy.