Christ, why the hell am I writing in this? Oh yeah, to keep sane. That makes sense. Everything else has gone off the deep end, so here's to hoping this helps me make sense of what's been going on these last few weeks.
I suppose this might help other folks as well. Anyone else who might find this bloodied journal of the corpse of a dashingly handsome young man. If you see him, tell him I want my journal back, ha!
In any event, I hope this journal actually does something. Someone needs to remember this, if by some miracle humanity recovers from this...apocalypse. Someone needs to know that even in this hideous, dying world, there were people clinging to life, doing everything they could to save everyone they could. I guess, in a sense, this infection, which reduced people to ravenous beasts, really taught us what it means to be human...
"Oh my God, can you get any sappier?" Gregory turned around, startled. Penny crouched behind him, reading over his shoulder. She grinned. "Never pinned you down as the deep, philosophical type." Gregory sighed, and gave Penny the finger. She chuckled and stood back up, heading over to the cabinet in the kitchen where they were holing up. Boards covered the windows, and the entire room was trashed. Still, it was a place to stay for the night, and there didn't seem to be many infected around, so it really didn't matter what it was like. Penny tossed him a can of nectarines and a fork, which he set on the table, and got back to writing.
Anyways, I suppose I might as well actually get to telling my story. And the best way to tell a story would probably be to start from the beginning.
The name's Gregory. Gregory Hale. I'm average height, average build. Short, shaggy dark hair, brown eyes. Normal. Before the infection, I was your average store clerk, working at a local sporting goods story, O'Henry's. Which was a pretty sweet gig, all in all, considering how much I loved to camp. Even back then, I was all about getting away from civilization and just relaxing in nature. Well I guess I got the getting away from civilization part down pat.
About two weeks ago, a virus appeared. At first, no one thought much of it, just some sort of strange flu, Green Flu as CEDA called it. Naive assholes...The virus isn't a damned flu. No one knows what it is, but it spread. It spread fast. The infection does some kind of damage to the brain, making people violent, feral. Rioting broke out, and CEDA tried to contain it, to evacuate as many people as possible. Three guesses as to how well that turned out.
To make matters worse, it seems the virus has begun to do more drastic changes to people. Alterations to muscle mass, basic biology hang ups, these hideous monsters. The virus is changing, and I'm not sure if we'll remain immune for long.
We've been heading south, trying to meet up with the military, or at least some other survivors. Word has it that's where everyone is headed, and, not to be rude or anything, but I imagine there'll be weapons there as well. So win win.
Gregory sat the journal and pencil down on the table and picked up the canned fruit, tearing into it with relish. It wasn't often they were able to find anything other than military rations, and he was beginning to think they were some sort of corporal punishment. Still, they kept them going, and that was enough motivation to scarf one down, even if they lacked...flavor.
Finishing the sweet can of fruit, Greg tossed the can and fork in the sink. He'd have rinsed them out of courtesy, but no power meant no water, and even then, it was kind of silly. Not like anyone else was going to be judging them on their cleanliness. Still, he prefered to avoid leaving a mess. Kept the flies down, and the fuckers annoyed him to no end.
Greg headed to one of the windows and peered out. The dark streets were still, no trace of movement anywhere. The moon was low against the horizon, a sliver of it's full glory, but there was light enough to make out most of the houses down the street. A sudden movement caught his attention, and he stared at the spot where it was. Fortunately it seemed to small to be one of the infected. Probably just a cat, or raccoon or something.
Turning back, he started to find that Twitch was within inches of him, looking out as well. "Did you see that cat out there? I saw it. It frightened me too." The kid was talk, lanky, with messy blond hair and bright blue eyes that constantly darted around, always checking for movement. The infection hadn't been kind to him, though Greg suspected he'd always had a screw loose. He couldn't remember his name or much of his past, and had a nervous tick that made everyone hesitant to give him a gun, but he was a good kid, and observant as hell.
"Christ, Twitch, haven't I told you not to sneak up on me like that?" Greg sighed, scooting away from him. "Personal space is a foreign concept to you isn't it?" The boy grinned sheepishly, but said nothing. Rolling his eyes, Greg pulled up a chair and continued looking down the street. Ever since that one time where the drove off a massive, lumbering thing, big as a bear and twice as mean, Greg had taken it upon himself to keep watch. Not that they were particularly sneaky, mind you. But he wanted as much time to get out as possible, that thing had cracked a few ribs, and he was lucky it didn't do more.
A sudden movement caught his eye again, bigger, and he squinted into the darkness, trying to make it out. "Oh...Oh shit..." He backed away from the window, grabbing Twitch by the collar of his shirt and dragging him along. "Boomer! We've got a boomer out there!" Penny looked in from the other room. "Christ, not another one!" She yanked the hunting rifle off of the table and tossed it to Twitch. "Twitch dear, would you take care of it?"
Twitched nodded, solemnly, and poked the end of the rifle out of the window. Staring intently through the sights, he waited, breath held, slowly lining up the shot. After what seemed like an eternity, he squeezed the trigger, and they saw a cloud of blood and bile explode from the fallen corpse. Greg breathed a sigh of relief. "Nice shooting Twitch."
The teenager nodded, and set the rifle down on a nearby desk. "We're down to three rounds with the rifle Penny. We need to find some more soon. The woman nodded, her brilliant auburn hair falling into her eyes. "Right, right, I'll see if I can find a phonebook, that should help us find a gun store. Hopefully one that hasn't already been ransacked." Gregory nodded, and yawned. "Well, I think I should hit the sack, wouldn't want to attract 'em with my incesent yawning. 'Night everyone." Heading upstairs, Greg picked a room and flopped down onto the bed, sleep claiming him as he wrapped the blanket around himself to ward off the cold.