No One Left To Read This: December 2014

Entry One

Dear Diary,

It's been a long time I know, don't judge! The iphone is dead and quite possibly everyone else I cared about. I got Casey and Thomas to sleep, for the first time without crying (them not me). Which I know Mom won't believe. If I had my iphone I could post a pic of proof (but as you know already, I don't). Anyway I promise this won't always be about my iphone, or how much I miss cheese burgers or Gossip Girl – Blair and Chunk (Chuck), I know if anyone can survive what's going on right now you two can! I really have a lot to tell you, but the gas is running out and I don't want to change the canister just to update myself about what myself is going through. I will write again tomorrow, or hopefully the power will be back on, mom and dad home from their date and I won't have to! The weird noise is starting up again so i'm going to switch off the light.

Update soon.

Entry Two

Dear Diary,

Luckily, today was not the end of me. I couldn't sleep last night, funnily enough, because I was thinking about you. As you know I've tried to keep a diary before – but last night I realised what the point was. A diary isn't about me talking about myself to myself. A diary is me talking to a friend about myself. I need a friend right now, to try and work out what to do with the kids, and what’s going on. Mom and dad are still MIA and from breakfast to noon this was my day – Thomas: Jenny where’s Mom and Dad – Casey: Jenny, Where's Mom and Dad – Thomas: Jenny, I'm Hungry – Casey: Jenny, charge the Ipad – Thomas: Jenny, can we go to park? – Casey: Jenny, can I watch Frozen etc. Frozen I was able to provide (this caused a full on Thomas spazattack while I hooked the TV to the generator) which ended with Olaf. Both kids are now singing Let It Go loud enough to drown out that noise I told you about yesterday. Dad locked us in when he left on his date (“A weekend of reconnecting,” Mom called it) but climbing up to the roof garden, the origin of the sound appears to be the Highschool. Maybe the PA system cranked up?
Yeah, Mom and Dad locked us in. Told me not to leave the house no matter what until they got back. Which is why I haven't gone to the police yet. Or even to the mailbox. Sounds extreme? That's my family. Was me too once. Swiss Army Knife for my 4^th birthday, scope for my 10^th. Hunting, Fishing, Tracking, I'm a regular Cruesoe on the inside. Not so much since highschool I will admit, Track and Field yeah, but now it's more for the boys then against them, and I wouldn't be caught dead in khaki anymore. I think my pleated skirts make dad sadder then the destruction of the Amazon and peak oil combined.
Oh yeah, which is why I said that everyone's dead, as in my social life. Even with the solar charger on my phone I can't access the 'Net. Landline's out too, and the power for two days now. I imagine a blizzard (hence the siren) knocked out the grid. It's pretty common where we live, but no power for two day, not so much. The kids are worried, Casey is a born conspirator so I think she is actually happy that way -- imagining that mom and dad have been kidnapped by aliens and ISIS behind the power outage. But its hard on Thomas. And me! If they aren't back my tomorrow morning I’m going to have to break out of this fortress and tell someone. And hopefully bring back something to eat that doesn't have carbs. Mom stocked the freezer and dad has ten years of baked beans (that he forced me to stack) so starvation is unlikely, but so is fitting into my uniform if I eat spagbol one more time. I can't believe mom out right refused to freeze any of my diet foods. It's like she doesn't understand that I have to be thin for the start of school next week! Dad might fear the end of the world, but he has no idea what real fear is. Like gaining a muffintop while stuck babysitting your kid brother and sister when you threw out all your regular pants for skinny jeans!

Anyway, Frozen has finished.

Update Soon.

Entry Three

Dear Diary,

Guess what? Today was not the end of me either. Instead, Ear thingys stuffed in my ears and a flat Ipod, I awoke to Thomas smacking my mouth and pointing upstairs. Minion! Was the only word I could make out around his thumb. I ran upstairs and stuck my eye into the spyhole. Thomas was right. An oversized minion from “Despicable Me” did indeed stand there – otherwise known as a FEMA employee in an “Orange is the New Black” HAZMAT suit – His knocking frantic now that he realised someone was home. I shouted that I couldn't unlock the door – he insisted I unlock the door – I insisted I couldn't – he insisted I UNLOCK THE DOOR– the entire situation punctuated by Thomas and Casey having an Astronaut versus Minion debate. This went on for five minutes before another FEMA Employee/Minion/Astronaut arrived and hauled the first out of sight – counting body bags no doubt! (Got a conspiracy joke in for you dad!). Anyway, Minion/Astronaut/Employee No.2, reappears at the door and slips a note under it – in one deft motion impregnating dad's impenetrable fortress. Below is a (much neater, less hasty) copy of the letter:

Jenny, other kids.

You don't know me, but I know your father.

He wouldn't want you to go to the FEMA Camp.

Sit tight, don't go outside. Don't let anyone in.

I'll try and come back for you.

STAY INSIDE.

No Cats.

Knowing your dad, I know you have more supplies

Than FEMA at your disposal.

This thing could still blow over. Your father keeps a

Police Scanner behind the Beer fridge.

I suggest you charge it.

I had already found the Scanner, but so far have heard only static. Your guess is as good as mine

when it comes to the cat thing – even writing it makes me shrug. This thing could still blow over couldn't be more cryptic -- full HAZMAT? You know, I'm wondering if this isn't some game my dad's cooked up to test my survival skills. I would be annoyed at my dad, but if it is a real TEOTWAWKI event, and he isn't here to help then I'm going to be a lot more then annoyed. I rely on him, and now, when I need him, he's MIA. It does something weird to your brain, when you realise you rely on someone more than yourself. It breeds doubt. Especially when I see by Thomas and Casey faces that they are starting to feel that exact same way about me.

Anyway, I promised the kids a bubble bath with the last of the hot water. Beyond that, I guess FEMA

are + 3 Body Bags (oops I did it again). The Stevens are staying put for now.

Update Soon.

Entry Four

Dear Diary,

          I spent most of today on the roof making a ladder from four coils of Samson rope and my superior Scoutmaster skills, while watching the neighbourhood ship out via Schoolbus. A FEMA Agent stood outside of the front gate during this and waved off other clipboard holding FEMA agents. Our friend from this morning I presume? He didn't leave us any messages. I kept my head down and didn't let Thomas play in his sandpit – if it wasn't TEOTWAWKI outside, it was inside for the rest of the day after that. Thomas decapitated three of Casey's barbies and let the cat escape. I still haven't decided what to do about Penelope. Anyone who's ever owned a cat knows that doors must be opened to our feline overlords upon demand. The warning about Cats and the “situation” requiring full HAZMAT points to some sort of infectious disease. Unless the guy had a phobia, huh! Maybe that would explain the HAZMAT suit!
          Anyway I don't want to talk about Penelope. It was around 5pm when the last bus left and I was about to head down to separate the kids again when a boy ran down the main road pushing a shopping cart full of blankets and soda. He left the cart every so often and kicked open several of the neighbourhood doors, dashed in – and back out. I always keep a rifle on the roof for Skeet practice, through the scope I could tell he wasn't robbing the places. He came back each time empty handed. Then he was at our front gate. He went to kick the lock when Penelope jumped up on the gatepost. The boy literally threw himself back, grabbed a pile of blankets out of his trolley and ran, checking back for Penelope every few seconds, he tripped on the curb, frantically unravelled his blanket, checked his “stash” and kept running until I lost sight of him after Winslow and East.
        Penelope never once looked up from grooming herself. I followed her with the scope when she jumped down, ran up the porch steps and disappeared from view. I didn't need to see her any more though, her meow grew louder by the instant. She was a hero, I couldn't lock her out! Checking to make sure no one was around, I called down to her. She arrived with a purr of indignation and stalked into the house, tail regally high. By the time I got down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen, Thomas patted her fur while she ate her tunafish biscuits. I refuse to worry about this, it's just a cat! More then that, it's Penelope, besides she was only out of the house less then an hour, Okay, maybe two, but not longer then that. She doesn't hardly leave our garden anyway! If there was some crazy cat disease, then the cat would have to catch it right? From being in a fight or something or doing other stuff cats do. I checked her over fully for any signs of injury or sickness. Her nose was cold, if that counts and she ate all her food. I don't understand why everyone's acting so weird about cats today!

Update Soon.

Entry Five

Dear Diary,

Thomas is sick.

Update Soon.

Entry Six

Dear Diary,

Thomas is finally asleep. I gave him paracetamol and ibuprofen but neither touch his fever. I'm beside myself. I even climbed down to the road today to check for FEMA buses. But there is no one out there. Even the siren has stopped. I don't know what to do, my hands are literally shaking right now. But I had to get these thoughts out of my head. Put them somewhere else! Casey is fine, she's worried about Thomas but her Barbie library keeps her away from him and out of my hair. I stink too, I haven't showered in two days, I know its trivial in the current light, but I want to feel human again. I want my old life back! School would have started today. Instead I am an inadequate nurse to a 3year old who looks half dead. He's awake again! Please God, if you can hear me, help me!

Update Soon.

Entry Seven

Dear Diary,

     It's hard to admit but I laced Penelope's food with rat poison and locked her in Mom and Dad's room. I'm not sure if the RatSak killed her and Joe had to kill her again, or she was still alive when he did what had to be done. Joe is Trolly-Blanket boy from the street the other day! I'll get to him in a minute.
     I'm worried about Casey, I don't think she's sick, but she's really hungry which is understandable considering I haven't had time to cook anything. She's had to get by on a bag of bread and packet of sliced cheese I tossed on the couch. She hasn't complained once, only asked if she could get herself some milk. I brought her the carton and some cookies and told her everything was going to be okay, and it sort of is, now. She didn't ask anything about Penelope or Thomas.
    I had to keep Thomas in the bathroom. Lifting him in and out of the bath every five minutes or so to try and get his temperature down. It only made him hotter! After the first soak his body broke into a rash spreading from under his armpits out. I had to tie his hands together with the curling iron cord to stop him scratching. He also had blood in his mouth and sores covering the roof and walls. When I got a torch, and him to say ahh! His tongue was black down the back of his throat. He couldn't focus, his pupils best described as two fullstops in bloodshot orbs. Of his torments, light hurt him the most I think. I had to keep it off unless he was convulsing, then I tossed a flannel over his eyes and prayed. The last time I took him out of the bath he went limp, I thought it was the start of another convulsion but this time his heart had stopped. I screamed for help. It was instinctive, of course Casey ran in and started screaming too.
    Between screaming “Everything will be all right!” I rolled Thomas into the recovery position, then back, started chest compressions and was about to give mouth to mouth when someone shouted STOP. Enter Joe. Joe pushed me off Thomas, scooped him up and ran with him to the kitchen.
   “Freezer, where's your freezer?” he repeated over and over until I pointed to the other side of the room. Then he screamed “Open it! Open it!”. I did, tried to at least, my arms were jelly with shock, Casey helped me.
   “Empty it! Empty it!” Joe repeated now.
    I wasn't thinking, what the hell? Why are you listening to him and not saving your dying brother! I was tossing baskets of frozen meat and pizzas out on the floor as quick as I could because Joe seemed to know what to do. One thought, Thomas is dead, Thomas is dead, reduced me to a zombie state. I came out of it quick when Joe stuffed Thomas in the freezer, slammed the lid, and sat on it.
    Now I screamed at him and beat him. He grabbed my arms locked them behind my back, Casey bit his arm, his thigh, then jumped up and down wrenching on his hair whenever height allowed. But Joe didn't react beyond holding me and repeating: “He'll be OK,” over and over, until I believed him. Joe doesn't look older then 17 but in that moment all I saw was blond Jesus. Gods know I wanted to believe in Joe in that moment, needed to believe that I hadn't just let a stranger kill my dying baby brother.
    It was a horrific 5 minutes before Joe hopped off the freezer, opened it, and lifted Thomas out. He lay him on the couch, listened to his heart, then asked for a blanket. By the time I grabbed it from Dad's chair. Thomas was breathing again. His rash, faded. I think I squeezed most of those first breaths right back out of him.
   With relief, came questions. Like, “What the hell are you doing in my house!” Joe told me he had seen me the other day down on the street, but that it was by chance he arrived when he did. He needed baby formula for his newborn daughter, April. April was on the roof in a car carrier apparently, Joe went and got her. As he came down the stairs he asked me what the noise was in the upstairs bedroom. I explained about the cat. He said he would see to her, that she had to be put down a certain way to stay down because of the virus. All cats are carriers of the virus. He explained that April's mother had contracted the virus and died a few days ago, when everything started. April had been sick like Thomas, Stillborn actually, but Joe knew about the freezer treatment from his own Dad – a scientist who worked with vaccines. I wouldn't have believed him if I hadn't witnessed it with Thomas. Joe explained that kids under a certain age (8-10) who died of the virus came back alive, carriers of the disease, but normal apart from that. He said that those over 10 who contracted the virus, died and came back carriers, but abnormal. Of course I asked him what abnormal meant. Joe told me about his Girlfriend, that she had come back to life after a few hours crazy and almost killed him.
   The virus is transmitted via body fluids, that's why Joe stopped me giving mouth to mouth and he has to wear gloves when looking after the baby. He warned me not to touch her spit up. I asked him if I looked like the kind of girl that did that? He grinned and I smiled back. It was the first in a long time for me.
   Joe's from the next town over, and since he's been on the street, he's witnessed a lot of reanimated adults and hundreds of kids trying to survive on their own. Joe asked me if he and April could stay with us, I explained we only had powered milk not formula, he said it was better than nothing or being killed looking for better. He doesn't know if FEMA has a working vaccine or not but he's going to try and get in contact with his Dad again. He asked Casey's age, I told him she was seven, he said. “She's tall!” Then he took me aside and told me it was a good thing because she was sick too.
   Oh! One other nightmare, both April and Thomas eyes are completely black. This is one update I won't be re-reading any time soon! At least Joe says that Thomas won't die again now, and he really does seem okay, he even laughed at Olaf. I never thought I would be so happy to hear another chorus of “Let It Go.”

Update Soon.

Entry Eight

Dear Diary,

It's a lot harder to look after three kids while wearing a HAZMAT suit then you would think! Joe and I spent the day separating all the kids bowls, cups, utensils etc. into one half of the kitchen. The kids are going to use the main bathroom and toilet, and Joe and I share the other. It's also a lot harder not to hug and kiss your baby brother and sister then I would have thought. I already miss towel hugs after bath time and goodnight kisses. Joe has never even touched April's skin. But we can't take any risks, we both wear the suits except for bed, then it's decontamination and hello Hello Kitty PJs. Joe is planning to leave me with the kids tomorrow morning and head over to his old house to see if his Dad's back from the lab. Joe's Dad had left him when April's Mom first contracted the virus with plans to return with some experimental drug that had worked on cats at the lab.

The street below is chaotic. Gangs of kids have ransacked most of the neighbourhood. A few reanimated adults have turned up, but so far the street kids have dealt with them and left us alone thanks to my excellent aim with a rifle. Turns out video games are a good preparation for the apocalypse. I'm worried about looking after three kids on my own. But if there's answers, we have to try and find them.
Casey had to go into the freezer today, I was always jealous of her eyes, now I would give anything to have her scowl at me in beautiful green. The black-eyed kid look is getting old fast! Especially at 3am when it's my turn to feed April! Apart from that slight demonic detail, she's a cute baby. I also had time to audit the supplies and I think the five of us will be sweet for at least the next 8 months -- ETA of Cheerio Apocalypse. Thomas without his favourite breakfast cereal isn't someone anyone, living or dead, would want to mess with.

Update Soon.

Entry Nine

Deary Diary,

Today everything changed. While waiting for Joe to come back, around three days now, I

organised a BOB (Bug Out Bag for those uninitiated in the ways of the American Prepper) each for

the kids, another for Joe and myself. The Black-Eyed Street Kids have increased in number and

violence, as have the reanimated over 10s. I have noticed before a reanimated turns up, a few cats appear first. These run though the neighbour, I swear doing recon for the reanimated. Without fail, whenever a cat enters a building where a Black-Eyed-Kid (BEK) is hiding, they flush them out for the reanimated to catch. Sometimes they are successful, I try and help if I am in range, but if not I look away, can't hide from the screams though, especially horrific when the BEK obviously knows the reanimated attacking them. Brrrrr! Even the memory gives me chicken-flesh!

Anyway, I had the kids on the roof with me today, them in their snow suits, me in HAZMAT. April in her car-carrier, Thomas and Casey played in the sandpit. I was picking the last of the tomatoes in the greenhouse when a beeeeeep! Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeeep! Turned into the vrummm, vrummm of an engine at odds with its driver, and ended with a screech of tires at my front gate. Joe wound down the driver's window of the yellow school bus and screamed at me to get in!

“Are you insane!” I screamed back over the side of the roof.

“Get the kids, we have to go! Now!” Joe screamed back.

My heart thumped fit to shatter a rib. Thomas and Casey hung over the edge of the roof with me. Thomas waved at Joe, thumb in mouth. Joe got out, climbed over the gate, came to stand below us.

“Lower April down to me!” he said.

It was his kid. I got the rope, tied it to her carrier, placing her and Joe's BOB on top.

Joe kicked away a cat, then another. “Something really bad is coming, Jenny, I know you think you're safe here, but you're not! Trust me, Jen! Get the kids down here, now!” He kicked another cat, a marmalade one this time.

That decision was the hardest I have ever had to make. How could I trust Joe? I hardly knew him. But why would he lie? He had gone looking for answers, and from the look on his face, he had found something bad.

I tossed all the BOBs down, then the rope ladder over the side. Casey climbed slowly, scared of heights. Thomas, I put on my hip and we climbed down one handed. On Terra Firma Joe took the kids to the bus while I ran to the garden shed, pulled out a bag of guns and ammo hidden under the top step and got on board. It wasn't just us on the bus, twenty or so BEKs huddled in the seats. They didn't make a noise, except one little girl who kept pulling on Joe's sleeve and begging him to drive. Before I took the seat behind him, the bus bunny-hopped as Joe struggled with the gears. Then we were off, breaking all Dad's rules by leaving the security of the house. I wanted to change my mind, but the ocean of cats now seething outside the windows, filling the road, deterred me.

The road was pretty clear, because the virus hit so fast I suppose, and everyone who could drive went with FEMA or succumbed at home. Now that we have reached the highway and Joe doesn't have to change gears, it's smooth enough to fill you in. Oh, I found my polaroid in the gun bag! Dad hid it when he thought I was taking naked selfies for the football team. Anyway that's another story! Took this pic as we left town.

Update Soon.

Entry Ten

Dear Diary,

I was inspired by a pickaxe today. My hours of Minecraft weren't so wasted after all, Dad, when a reanimated adult lumbered into the hardware section of Walmart. Whack, whack, whack, in its eye with the pick and it un-animated pretty darn quick! I kicked it to make sure it had no plans of undoing my handy work. Joe had the kids a few rows over in the fruit section. It seemed the responsible thing to do, get them to eat something fresh before it all turned to sludge. The public rest-room was the first stop on our Apocalyptic field trip, then over to Joe's -- not my Joe, Joe with the giant thumbs-up you see on the turnpike between Beckett and Amberleigh -- camping and fishing supply section. We got the kids to choose a sleeping bag each. Now Joe's reading a bedtime story to 13 BEKs tucked into 13 fluorescent pink Barbie sacks, and 7 BEKs in Thomas the Tank engine. Casey wanted Bratz, Thomas insisted on sleeping in mine -- which means Bye Bye Kitty and Hello Hazmat.

The bus had broken down about two miles passed the Walmart, I had planned to double back myself to look for a fanbelt. But Thomas and Casey refused to let me go, after that all the kids had started complaining, their minuscule bladders helping them get over their trauma. This section of town was pretty well-to-do, so I imagine most of the residents begged FEMA to take them away leaving few reanimates to bother us. We have seen a handful of BEKs but they keep their distance. No cats, and about three dog packs, which I think explains the cats!

We have set up in a small boutique jewellery store chosen, both, for its 6 inch roller door that locks from the inside, and the fact that the key was still in the lock. We are going to try and go back for the bus tomorrow, it's not like there's a 26 seater vehicle on every street corner! Anyway, Joe wants me to switch the torch off, so I'll leave you with a pic of Deathbringer my new BFF!

Update Soon.

Entry Eleven

Dear Diary,

I've been sick, really sick. I couldn't update with my head in a bucket. At first I thought I had the virus, but although I look like a zombie and feel worse, I think it's more food poisoning, less pre-living death.

Joe's been amazing, he's been looking after me and all the kids. Casey's been so good with April, and Thomas, well Joe found him a Optimus Prime sleeping bag, so I didn't have to vomit in my HAZMAT suit. The kids know to stay away from me. Vanessa is my protector, she tells everyone- "Don't go near Jenny, 'cuz you'll 'fect her!" Non-stop all day. Black eyes can convey a

surprising amount of expression. But it's Vanessa's 5yo foot stamp that really gets her point across.

If I wasn't so preoccupied with feeling disgusting, I would have room to feel impressed by her commitment to her task. I don't think in all my 17 years that I have ever been so dedicated to a cause. Here, my spate of naked selfies spring to mind again. But, this is a diary about apocalyptic events, not

adolescent attention grabs. Wouldn't want to step on Bieber's toes!

Vanessa and the other kids come from a foster housing unit across the street from Joe's house, but they were in his house when he went to look for his Dad. Apparently his Dad had come back, and helped these kids, told them to wait there until he returned. Joe had wanted to wait, but then cats had started appearing, massive amounts of them filling every part of the street, followed by a hoard of reanimated over 10s. These were different, changed. They were loping along the street on all fours, howling. Screeching to each other, sniffing the air.

Joe got lucky, he said. Got the kids to stay real quiet and wait for the wave to pass by the house. He thinks the only reason they weren't found was because there were so many BEKs outside. If the reanimated were hunting, they didn't need to flush more prey. After the street was empty, Joe got the kids' community bus and I already said what happened after that.

We are still in the Jewellery Shop but now that I'm strong enough to write, I think we will return to the bus tomorrow. We have to get out of the city, away from people. Joe got some tourist guides from Walmart and thinks we should head over to a national park not too far from here. After spending the last days with my head in a plastic bucket and my bum on a porcelain toilet seat, anywhere else sounds perfect to me. Joe's been packing the kids BOBs -- camping equipment, marshmallows, he even has a guitar. Everything needed for a round of Kumbya at the end of the world camp fire we will start with the 160 boxes of Redhead matches Joe has stuffed into my jacket pockets. Fingers crossed the bus is still there. In appreciation of Joe's work ethic, here's the mountain of branding I just woke up to. Good job Joe, you certainly put the Disney in disease!

Update soon.

Entry Twelve

Dear Diary,

We left the jewellery store at dawn, me with my BOB in one hand, and my gun and Thomas' hand in the other. I wore April like a backpack, Deathbringer stuffed behind her and through one of the leg holes she was too small to use. We grouped the kids the best we could between us, taking an equal share of the under 5s and over 5s. Joe's bright idea of painting our HAZMAT suits black seemed pretty redundant, at least from were I was relegated to the back of Joe's Disney parade. The shopping mall was empty and blindfold black, only Joe had his torch on, we made the kids keep theirs off, and I didn't have a free hand for a light source. I'm still kicking myself for not getting a helmet one from Thumbs Up Joe!

We crossed the undercover car-park, keeping an eye out for any suitable vehicles. That place was beyond creepy, especially with the howling. I haven't heard it before, but Joe had, and the kids had. They were terrified – the kids, I don't think Joe's scared of anything. They kept pulling on us and begging to go back inside. The look on their faces made me want to do that a whole lot more than my repeated “It's okay!” let on.

The carpark was one of those multi-decker ones with a view toward the city, back along the highway, and home. With the sunrise and the distance I thought the bright flashes were reflected sunlight on windows. Then Thomas said– “Fire! 911!” Just like Mom taught him. He was right, it was fire, but there isn't a 911 to contain it. The wind changed direction and smoke boiled between the skyscrapers, carrying debris high into the sky, in our direction.

“How far away is it, Jenny?” Casey asked.

I squeezed her arm and told her not to worry, the city was a good 25 miles away at least.

Joe made a pretence of adjusting April to whisper to me. I agreed with what he said. There was no going back, we had to get out of this sector, to the bus and away before the fire arrived. We hurried the kids up, got them to run down onto the street and hide behind a set of parked cars while Joe scanned the route ahead with his scope. It went on like this, scan and hide, scan and hide, until we hit the highway. Here there were several burnt out wrecks from a week or so ago, and as we crossed an overpass, the Yellow bus where we had left it, a mile and a bit in the distance.

By now smoke blew thick across the road making it hard for the kids to breathe. Joe and I were fine, we had filters. We wet the kids t-shirts, had them breathe through the cloth. We travelled three quarters of the distance this way. I had to wear my BOB and carry April, walking with a spare wet onesie pressed to her face. That's why I tripped on Vanessa, she squatted on the road, trembling. Joe raised his hand for everyone to halt.

Loping down the highway, between us and the bus, were a pack of reanimated. I couldn't see any real detail, but the way they moved, hands to ground, stretched way out front, legs pulled up under them– bums up, legs, hands, legs, hands, legs, hands– nightmare in motion. They hadn't seen us, what with the smoke. But we were trapped. They would pass us soon, their rolling gait so quick, the overpass prevented us going over the side. Several ugly crashes from the first week of the virus slowed them now and again. One would break from the pack, leap onto a crumbled bonnet, stick its head through a broken wind-shield. If it found something, it howled to the others. If not it rejoined the pack. Then there we no more cars left between us and them. We had nothing to hide in but smoke. We turned to go back, but the wind changed with a rush of clean air, giving us oxygen and stealing our cover.

The reaninmated saw us, I don't know what I expected, but they didn't charge us. They stopped, sniffed the air, hands pulled up to their chests. Four of the pack spilt off, two down each side of the embankment. I shoved April at Vanessa, shoved Thomas at Casey, and fired my gun. Pop, pop, pop. One, two, three, of the five remaining reanimated yelped, the last two sped toward me. Joe was beside me, pop, pop, pop. Finally a head shot. Then another. The two frontrunners fell bum-over-head and didn't move. The last three bounded over them and crashed into me. I grabbed Deathbringer, smack! It found an eye, I shattered the rest of the socket getting DB free. The two clawed at me, thin white needles for teeth snapped at my face, sliming the plastic. I tried to escape, tried to roll out from under them, tried to find DB. Then Joe was there, he grabbed one, then another by the hair, shot them in the back of skull. The last one howled, limped back the way it had come. Joe, arm steady, tracked it. Pop! Reanimated brains splattered asphalt.

We ran, Joe carried Thomas and Casey, plus his gun, plus his BOB. We got to the bus. I still had to fix the fanbelt. Joe waved the kids on board, I tossed my pack on the ground to get the toolkit and Joe grabbed me, spun me around. He didn't talk, held my HAZMAT head in his hands and tilted it side to side, checked each and every seam of my suit for splits. Then he sighed, rested his visored forehead against mine and looked into my eyes. No one has ever looked at me that way before. It was also the first time I really noticed how dark Joe's eyes are.

“I'm okay, Joe, the suit held. Let's do this quick.” I told him.

He squeezed my shoulders and asked me to hand him the spanner. It's midday now and the city's a distant glow. The going's been slow, a lot of abandoned traffic to navigate but no reanimated, and we are heading in the right direction, things could be worse. I'm sitting at the back, I said it was to lie down, but really, I can't shake the sense that something's watching us. Okay, Joe needs me to watch for signs, we have to take the next turn off.

Update Soon.