First Robbie and now this.  What a cluster-fuck.  Dave took off last night without a trace.  Sonofabitch took a hefty pack of ammo, food, meds, the works.  I should have seen this coming.

Dave was Robbie’s dad.  Police officer type, and harder than a coffin nail.  The only family each of ‘em had left in this shit-hole.  When the disease hit, they were on a hunting trip together up in North Carolina.  One second you’ve got a 4-point buck in your sights, the next you see a horde of flesh-eaters: what used to be your hunting camp.  When they made it back home, the whole family was already dead or undead.  Not much difference between the two, if you ask me.  At least the dead don’t run after you.  They burned the place to the ground.

That’s around the time we joined up.  Looking back now, we wouldn’t have survived long without Dave’s help.  The guy was a natural.  New where to find weapons, how to make ‘em, how to barricade in for the night, when it was safe to camp.  He got us out of a dozen tight spots without a scratch.  And now he’s gone solo.  After Robbie turned…I guess that was all Dave had left.

I only hope to see him again.

Kind of a weird week.  We headed through some small cities in the past few days.  I picked up a CB radio off a dead trucker.  Looks like he crashed his truck into a supermarket and flew through the windshield.  Lucky fucker.  I can only hope I go out before one of those things gets a nibble on me.

Anyway, I kicked on the radio and start sifting through the channels.  Johnny starts giving me shit.  ”It’s fuckin pointless, everybody is dead, man.  You might as well go talk to a meat-head out there in the streets.”

Then a voice comes over the speaker.

“…and always check you’re water bottles.  The contamination spreads through all bodily liquids.  The blood is the most contagious, however saliva and fecal matter have been know to carry the virus.  Never, under any circumstances, come into contact with zombie bile.  The undead with vomit this up when startled or excited.  It’s a mixture of gastric fluids and blood, and the stomach acids turn the blood cells black.  Direct contact with it and your a goner.  It’s a good idea to acquire a pair of goggles in case of a Spitter attack.  You CANNOT be too careful here, folks.  Paranoia is your friend.  Until we know more about the virus, the most important thing to do is to stay alive…”

His name is Jason Parker.  He went on about tips to use with the zombies, and helpful hints on better survival.  This guy seems to know what he’s talking about.  He’s got a group of twenty-one people in an fortified condo about 4 hours north of us.  The rest of the gang thinks we should try to find em.  But twenty people?  That’s twenty more people to possibly turn on me.

At the end of the transmission, Parker stated his “Code Of Survival” list.  I scribbled it down as fast as I could.

1. Stay Alive
2. Offer aide to any and all uninfected.
   1. Any survivors taken in should be inspected for bite marks or symptoms.
   2. Appearances of infection or overall disregard for the safety of the group are viable exceptions to this rule.
3. Protect your fellow survivor.
4. Acquire provisions when possible.  This includes, but is not limited to:
   1. Food and water (Be wary of contaminated items).
   2. Weapons and ammunition.
   3. Transportation.
   4. Medical supplies
5. Never kill, harm, or steal from an uninfected human. Zombies are the enemies, not humans.
   1. Self-defense is always acceptable, however one shall refrain from killing humans when possible.
6. If you are bitten or suspect infection, report to the rest of the group. This is in line with Rule #2.
   1. Any member to admit possible infection shall be given majority vote to stay or leave.  A single weapon and ammo may be provided.
   2. Pay attention to the members of your group.
      1. i.     Daily checks for bites and infection are recommended.
      2. ii.     When safety permits, check fellow members after every encounter with infected.

Robbie turned. I don’t even know when the fuck he got bit. We only had two encounters in the past week, and we hadn’t seen anything for four days now.

Then this shit. I remember the first time I met Rob. He worked at the Gigabit Computer’s, next door to the cafe I visited twice a week. He sat down next to me ranting about how crazy the rest of the world was, and we were quick friends. How ironic, we had no idea what was in store for our “crazy” world. You’d never think a computer geek could hold his own with a zombie attack, but Robbie was a tough sonofabitch. Now he’s dead.

I suppose it’s a matter of time for the rest of us. Everybody is on edge, especially Tamara. Christ, he almost ripped her throat out when he finally turned. One second we’re sitting there talking, the next he’s red-eyed and blood-thirsty. I nearly killed Tamara when I shot him. The blood was everywhere. Hell, it’s still everywhere. For some reason it doesn’t act like normal blood. Once they turn, the blood coagulates into this pasty, sticky mess that bonds to everything. It’s as if the blood emulates the zombies, just begging to spread.
Why didn’t you say something Robbie? I suppose I wouldn’t either. My hands are still shaking. I’ll be surprised if I last another week.

By now it’s typical. I mean, everyone saw this coming. The constant shortcuts and back alleys and quick fixes to our society. It was the only outcome that would seem logical. The entire human species, gone in a matter of weeks. Most people’s immune systems couldn’t handle the first outbreak. The few that survived? Picked off by the hoards that scavenge the streets. Parasites. I don’t see how anyone made it out of the cities alive. Fuck, I can’t call this survival. The shitty canned foods. Raiding dead bodies for ammo, weapons, or more food. Constantly checking each other for bite marks. I’m scared shitless to catch a cold for fear they’ll kill me in my sleep. To tell you the truth, I’d do the same. And to think, a flower started it all.

More to come…