Journals of the Damned (Book 1)

by GJ Zukow

  We will be doing the opposite of what we should. We will sleep outside, in a spot she had probably (according to her M.O.), previously destroyed. There are the well-cooked skeletal remains of four people here, more proof to me that the homicidal cunt did this. The night will be cold without a campfire but the brick wall around the property would keep any of the undead out. The single gate is ajar, and that's how we left it. To close and lock it might give us away, better it stays open. Most of the undead have been either killed or led out of town so the chance is slim any of the ghouls will wander in on us. Regardless, one of us will stand watch at night and keep an eye out.

  I would love to be in the position to monitor the fake shelter we set up and see if it actually draws her attention. That's not a good idea, she will monitor the place before she strikes and I don't want her to accidently stumble across us. We'll know soon enough if the plan works, fire can be seen for miles.

  We did all of that yesterday. Allan stayed up the whole night, knowing I was going to go out today and search for her. He should have woken me for my watch around four in the morning but he let me sleep. To be honest, I'm glad he did, I needed it. As soon as I finish writing this I'm going to go check on the fake safe house. Maybe move the Chevy, turn on a different light, drag the corpse away, make it look like we are there. Then go look for her.

  I'll give the plan a couple of days. In the meantime I will search for her lair during the light while she sleeps, she seems to be a night hunter.

  Wednesday, March 5, 2013

  Last night, at around four thirty in the morning, Allan woke me up. As soon as my eyes opened I could smell what he roused me from my sleep for. The cold morning air was filled with the heavy scent of a building on fire.

  There, on the far horizon, we could see the spreading glow of flames. We were too far away from the fire to see the building itself being engulfed by the fire but we both knew which building was burning. The parasite ridden and crazed woman had taken the bait and burned down our fake safe house. The glow from the fire started small and we watched as it grew into a huge bonfire that lit up the night. The storage bays must have caught on fire along with the office and small apartment. Great black plumes of smoke went up from the conflagration well into the afternoon. The fire still smolders as I write this, night will soon fall again, sending grayish trails into the sky.

  Monday and Tuesday afternoon I cautiously made my way into town to locate the Red's lair. I had desperately wanted to scrounge around in the supermarket to look for food but I figured that was the one place she would be sure to keep an eye on.

  All of the buildings I checked out had been broken into and looted already. Except for one. The Post office was locked and boarded up. That fact alone lead me to believe she was hiding inside it.

  How the infected woman had been getting in and out of the building before we had lead the undead way from town was a mystery to me. The hungry dead seemed to be thickest around the Post Office and there was no way anyone could have entered or left the building without being noticed and quickly surrounded by the monstrosities. Maybe there is an access tunnel or something under the building. Maybe she's not inside the Post Office at all, but if she's not, then why is there a relatively fresh blood trail leading into the rear door? Every other building in town shows no sign of habitation. It was also from the roof of the Post Office that she had shot me and would have killed me if it weren't for my bullet proof vest.

  The only buildings I haven't been able to physically investigate are the grocery store and the handful of buildings around it. From what I saw of them through my binoculars shows broken windows and bashed down doors, it's quite clear that nobody is inside them.

  I'll find out for certain soon enough. Sometime tomorrow the ruins of the fake safe house will have cooled down enough to approach. Not that I'm going to return to it, I expect the Red to do that. If I were her I would surely go back and see if there were any survivors and count the number of charred corpses. She is crazy though, driven by violent impulses and a murderous craving for human flesh.

  If she returns to the building she burned down to see if she killed us or not doesn't matter. Allan and I will stay quiet and out of sight for another couple of days. Let the bitch think we're dead or have fled. Then she won't be expecting me when I kill her.

  The only other thing I wanted to write about today is what Allan brought home for food. I came back from scouting the town last night, just after dark, to find Allan munching on dry dog food straight from the bag like he was eating potato chips. He just shrugged at me and offered me some when he saw my inquisitive look. He explained to me that when he was a kid they had a dog. Naturally, he had gotten curious one day and decided to see what the food they gave the beagle tasted like. It was dry, kind of bland and reminded him of cheap corn chips, minus the salt and with a hint of meat flavor. Those little bone shaped dog treats tasted mostly like cardboard and the chicken flavored dog snacks tasted like crap he told me. I think I'll take his word on that.

  There wasn't much to be scavenged from the houses and food was food. The rice we had found was in short supply and there is no way we're going to light a fire to cook any up at night time. Dog food. Won't kill us or make us sick if we don't eat a lot of it at once. Cold rice and kibbles.

  I have got to kill that bitch soon so I can raid whatever is left in the supermarket.

  Friday, March 7, 2013

  It's done.

  I killed her.

  I spent the whole day waiting and watching silently from a small insurance office that had a good view of the Post Office.

  I waited until the sun started to dip below the tree line, thinking that I should start making way back to camp. The rear door to the building opened up and I almost missed it entirely. The crazy woman's skin was completely red colored, I know this because she wasn't wearing a single scrap of clothing. The only thing she had was an AK hanging over her shoulder and a large gauze bandage on her left side from where I had shot her. Her thick black hair was matted and unwashed. She actually had a decent figure. She might have been pretty before she became infected. I'm sure she never expected to die like she did. She should have died of old age with a ton of grandchildren, instead of having her brains blown out the side of her head while she was otherwise "occupied".

  She was too quick for me to shoot then, by the time I switched from the binoculars to the hunting rifle with the scope she had gone around the corner of the building. I tried to follow her through the scope but that proved impossible. I only caught short glimpses of her as she made her way inside the Publix. After about twenty minutes she returned carrying a basket full of what looked to be batteries. I didn't see her make her way back, the Post Office almost completely blocks my view of the supermarket. When I did see her again I only had a few sparse seconds to make the shot and in that time she quickly went back inside to safety.

  So I waited. I waited for hours after dark before I made my way to the rear door of the post office. The door was locked again. I didn't have the tools to pick the lock but there was a gap between the door and the frame. Even in the slight moonlight I could see the latch. I was sweating like a pig in the cold night air as I jimmied the latch open with two thin steak knives I had pilfered from a nearby house.

  As I opened the door I was more nervous than I ever remember having been in my life. My sweaty hands shook and I held the rifle so tightly in my hands that my knuckles hurt from the strain. I expected her to find me breaking in and wished I had a shotgun with me instead of the rifle. The rifle was unwieldy and I set it down to draw out my handguns.

  I crouched there waiting for my eyes and ears to adjust to the interior gloom. There was the flickering of light and an odd moaning coming from a closed office at the other end of the mail sorting room. There was more than one person's voice in the moans and it unnerved the hell out of me. As I slowly crept closer to the room, I could make out, through the half open venetian blinds covering a large window, a whole wall full of t
elevision sets. I was momentarily stunned when my brain told me what my disbelieving eyes were seeing. There had to be twenty or so TV's in there and they were all hooked up to separate DVD and VCR players. All of them were playing a different show. All of them were porn. There was some really nasty stuff being played, of a bunch of different types. The mixed sound of moans and dirty talk was all blurred together and it sounded completely bizarre to my ears.

  The woman was laying on some dirty mattress, legs spread wide, as she furiously rammed the largest dildos in and out her holes that I had ever seen.

  I couldn't help myself from staring at her as she fondled herself and masturbated. It took me a minute before I remembered what I had come here for and raised my weapons and shot her through the window.

  She died instantly. My first shot spewed her brains on the wall.

  I entered the room and shot her again, making more than sure she wouldn't rise up from the dead to hunt me down after death.

  I was embarrassed for the damned woman. I covered her body and turned off all the sets. At least she didn't die in fear or in any physical pain.

  I was even too embarrassed to tell Allan how I found her when I killed her.

  I did a check of the building and found some really disturbing shit. There were six pickle jars, without the pickles, stacked in the room with her. In the greenish vinegar there floated what could only be castrated male penises and balls. One set per jar. I have no idea what she did that for and to tell the truth I didn't want to know.

  In the front lobby there was a dozen decomposing human heads set up along the counter. All of the heads were female and had fresh makeup applied to them. Lipstick, mascara and the whole nine yards, even their hair was done up nicely. I was creeped out to no end.

  I would rather be dead and a zombie than have to exist in a state of insanity that drives people to do things like that. Killing her was a blessing in my view.

  Now we've set up shop in the Publix, making it secure as we can. Thank the Gods I don't have to eat rice and dog food again tonight.

  Wednesday, September 18, 2013

  I realize it's been over six months since I wrote in this journal. I had intended to write something occasionally, at least once a month but I really didn't have anything to write about. I could have made little entries here and there but I kept putting it off. The days blended into weeks and the weeks turned into months. What spurred me to write again was when I checked my watch and saw the date. It's been a full year since the first outward signs of the "Scarlet" started showing on people. A year since the parasite formed colonies in their human hosts and killed them. A year after the single celled plague named "Toxoplasmosa Mondus Omni" started resurrecting the dead flesh of its victims.

  In a few weeks it will be the first anniversary of my mother and sister's and all of my family and friends death. And not just them. Ninety percent of everyone who ever lived died. Add the seventy percent of all the animals of the mammal order, and all the animals who starved when their food died or were attacked and the world seems a dead place.

  Birds, insects, fish and reptiles are still around but I have yet to spot a single squirrel. I sometimes hear the barking of dogs but even that is rare.

  The town is quiet. Allan and I are the only people here among the unused and abandoned buildings.

  Occasionally there comes the undead to disturb our solitude. They come singly and in small groups. There hasn't been any problem in dealing with them besides lowering our stock of ammo.

  Food is starting to get short. The "Red" I had to hunt down and kill had a huge stock of food stashed away in the Post Office, obviously she had looted the town and stored it for herself. The Publix, which normally would have held a huge quantity for two people to eat, held barely as much as the "Red" had gathered. The food shortage and supply problems that the parasite caused is to blame for that. As it is, we have burned through most of it. Not that we've been eating like pigs, just the opposite. We've been rationing our food but still in another month or so we're going to have to go out and do some scavenging in nearby towns for food.

  On a side note, I searched and searched the Post Office and the surrounding buildings trying to figure out how the infected and insane woman had been getting past the horde of zombies. I still can't figure it out. There is no secret passage or tunnel, no way to go from rooftop to rooftop or anything like that. I'm missing something here and it bothers me from time to time.

  We've taken residence in a rather large house, big enough so that for days Allan and I never even see each other.

  I spend a lot of my time reading while Allan spends endless hours playing mindless games on an X-Box and a Playstation 3.

  I get lonely. Allan may be a friend but he can't fill the void I feel. I think he feels the same way towards me. He hasn't made any advances sexually towards me, not that it bothers me. We're from different generations and if it weren't for the current situation we would never have even talked to each other except in passing.

  Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and it feels as if I can sense the ghosts of the dead all around me. It's not a threatening feeling, how do I explain it? It's as if they miss the world and the families they left behind. It's as if they still can't comprehend how everything ended so quickly and are saddened to see their flesh, which they left behind, still walking around with such a horrible intent.

  Thursday, October 24, 2013

  I had a dream this morning. It was the absolute worst dream I have ever had in my life. I can't imagine having a more disturbing dream if I live to be a hundred years old. It was an omen. The day went bad before noon. I dreamt that I had died and had turned into one of the walking dead. The hunger I felt while I wandered the earth was relentless and overpowering. It was a vile craving for human flesh that could not be satisfied no matter how many people I assaulted and sunk my teeth into. My victims screamed in agony and begged God to save them, all I felt as I bit down on their soft flesh was how good the warm blood felt and tasted. The last part of the dream, the part that forced me to awaken from the nightmare, was by far the worst. I dreamed that I had come across a baby, still in its crib. I dreamed that I ripped open its belly with my teeth and proceeded to eat its internal organs. My hunger was eternal and even after I was full I still gorged myself on it. I ate all of the helpless infant, when it died and stopped its crying I only felt relief that the thing finally shut up.

  I felt physically sick when I woke from the dream. I puked until my gut hurt from the strain and then I puked some more.

  I know it was just a dream. I still feel horrified and guilty over it. I feel as though I have committed the gravest of sins just for dreaming such an evil thing.

  Night is starting to fall and I still feel nauseous.

  No longer are we still in that small deserted town. Now we're somewhere in Ocala after having been found and pursued by an infected band of murdering raiders. We barely escaped with our lives.

  I spent the early hours of the morning eating Tums by the handful and sipping on some tea to try and quell my rebelling stomach. When Allan saw me he noticed the look on my face and asked me if I was O.K. I told him I had a cold or maybe a touch of food poisoning but I would be fine.

  Food was the last thing on my mind but not Allan's. Our supply was almost exhausted and we had been doing some hunting to supplement it. I told Allan I was going to stay inside today and take it easy so I wouldn't be joining him on the hunt. We never had a lot of luck, the game was scarce to begin with. Sometimes we lucked out and caught a couple of small fish from one of the small lakes, grateful to catch anything at all. The main thing we caught were birds. Occasionally we got a duck but more often than not we ended up trapping crows. Every day we went out hoping to get a rabbit or even a deer but all we ever managed to catch were birds.

  We always went out armed but we rarely shot our food. The noise drew too much attention to us. The damage that a bullet did to the small game wasn't worth it so we made Ojibwa bird tr
aps and trap falls to catch our game.

  As Allan went out and checked our traps I stayed inside and tried to wipe my dream from my mind. When I first heard the report of a gunshot I thought it was Allan. For a moment I thought he had come across something that was worth shooting but the sound was too distant and came from the wrong direction. There followed more shots, rapidly approaching town. It sounded like someone was driving into town, clearing the way of the undead as they came.

  There really is only one main road into the town and if you blink while driving it you might miss seeing the town entirely. The grocery store, pharmacy, post office and the few burned shells of the remaining public buildings line the main road. If they were coming into town it would be by that road so I waited with the binoculars to see what was going on.

  Shortly a Humvee, followed by a cube van and another Humvee rolled into town. Both the Humvee's had fifty calibers and armored turrets, both were manned. They stopped in front of the Publix and men quickly jumped out and went inside it and the pharmacy.