To be honest, i wrote this back when June 27 was a far off date, but a couple fans from other sites recomended continuing the story, and i decided against changing the date. Also, this isn't exactly Dawn of the Dead. There just isn't a generic zombie section. My Zeds are somewhat of a cross between Romero style zombies, and Zombie Survival Guide style.
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June 27, 2008
My name is Joshua Mason, and I'm writing this journal incase some future generation wishes to learn of my generation's tragedy. I'll start with a bit about myself. I was born and raised in Indiana, which in case your geography skills are lacking, is a state in the Midwestern USA. I went to a small public high school, where I made decent grades, and participated in pretty much every "nerdy" activity available, from marching band to fencing. I lived with my parents and my brother Morgan.
About two weeks ago, I turned eighteen. Unlike my prior seventeen birthdays, I spent this one inside my house with patrols of armed soldiers speeding down the street every so often. Martial law had been declared on my particular suburb, due to some epidemic or terror attack. The news couldn't make up they're mind on exactly what.
Life went on, however. My birthday was a tad boring, but as is family tradition, I did get myself my first gun. It was just a simple, hand-me-down .22 hunting rifle, with bent sights and a broken safety. Looking forward, it may become the most useful present I'll ever get.
You see, the patrol cars had went up and down my street every hour of every day until just a few days ago. My family was convinced martial law was over, even though we couldn't get the news stations for some reason. None of us had the guts to step outside and see if we'd get shot, however, except for my dad. He left, taking nothing but a flashlight, and headed north.
After about a day, my mother went out to search for my dad. For some reason, something felt wrong, and I begged her not to go. That didn't work, so I begged that I go with her. That also didn't work. She thought it'd be best if I stayed with my brother. My brother was sixteen, and I knew he could take care of himself, but I obeyed my mom.
That brings us to today,
Earlier today, for just a few hours, the news came back on the radio. Some man was saying that people need to move to a "sturdy" building, and wait out the crisis. He didn't elaborate much on this crisis, but he added at the end something about not opening doors for anyone, and trying to remain silent in our "safe-houses."
Mom and dad had been gone for just over two days now, and I was pretty sure that they weren't coming back anytime soon. So, my brother and I decided it best to move to a safer place. We weren't sure on where that was, but we knew our house wasn't sturdy enough to handle anything news-worthy. I grabbed some food, and of course this journal. I also brought my new gun, more out of emotional attachment than necessity. Unfortunately, I really didn't plan on using the gun, so I only brought a little bit of my ammunition stash.
Finally, at about 7 pm, my brother, my gun, and I left the house. My plan was to try and reach a small convenience store at the end of the road I lived on. I figured the place was strong enough for whatever it needed to protect against.
I still had no clue what was going on, and for that matter, I still don't know much. My best guess was some sort of rabies scare. That happened once, when the news said keep your pets inside, and don't leave your house. There were supposedly rabid dogs roaming the streets, but the scare only lasted a few days before animal control took care of things. The main difference in this predicament and that one, was were the rabies were accompanied by animal control cars, this new problem was accompanied by military vehicles and fully automatic weapons.
While walking down the street, we noticed something new to our area. Silence. Sounds of barking dogs, mooing cows, and tweeting birds were all replaced by nothingness. The only noise was the blowing wind, and our footsteps across the faded asphalt. Finally, after about a quarter-mile of walking, the hypnotic silence was broken, as some pained moan shattered it like a piece of glass. My brother and I spun about wildly, trying to locate the origin of the sound. Another moan filled the air. The sounds seemed almost omnipresent, filling the air completely and leaving no direction to clue us in to their origins.
The moans subsided, and we began walking some more. It wasn't even five minutes before we heard another moan, but this time, it sounded different. It was higher pitched definitely, but it also seemed closer. When I heard the moans again, I decided that they were a lot closer than I wanted them to be. Unfortunately, the omnipresence of the sounds made it hard to tell which way to go to avoid them, but I just decided that we should pick up the pace in our objective direction.
In normal circumstances, I'd have tried to find the voice and investigate, but it was nearly 8 pm, and thanks to daylight savings time, it was beginning to get dark, and I wasn't in the mood to find some rabid dog howling and snarling. Frankly, I was just scared. We had only about another quarter-mile before we reached the store, and I decided that we should run. My brother, equally scared, had no problem with the run, but I'd forgotten how out of shape I was.
I made it about three-fourths of the way, before I stopped to take a breath. My brother, who was tens of yards ahead, stopped to wait for me. During the short run, we failed to notice the moans, and more importantly, how they'd crescendoed. Now however, even over my panting, I could hear the low, painful tone louder than ever. It was so loud, and so close, I could easily pinpoint the direction. They were coming from behind my right shoulder. I shambled around my bag, trying to free my gun from the spiral binding of this journal. After a few seconds, which seemed like hours, I got it free, and spun around to face my foe.
I was quite a bit startled when I saw this foe. A small dark figure approached me slowly. Even through the dark, I could tell it was only a boy, perhaps ten years old.
I remember saying "Hello", and asking him if he needed shelter, and saying he could come with us. I also remember that there was no answer, only more silence as the figure and I stared at each other. Finally, this silence was interrupted by my brother, who skidded to a halt behind me.
My none-to-observant brother made a smug comment on my weight, followed by a rather dumb question on why I was stopped.
I explained, very slowly, to my idiot bro that there was a boy following us, gesturing at the small figure. I turned back to face the kid, who was moving closer to me. I bent down quite a bit to put myself at eye-level with the kid.
My brother must have better eye-sight than me, because he lost his cool. He just kept screaming "Let's go!". I simply turned my head and glared at him, then turned back and fixed my glasses.
When I turned back however, the kid was close enough for me to see his face. I'll never forget his terrible face. His hair was black and matted with what I hoped wasn't blood. His skin was almost a greyish color. The look on his face was completely emotionless. His jaw was gaping, revealing chipped, red-stained teeth. His once blue T-shirt was darkened by the blood pouring from a deep wound on his left shoulder. His eyes seemed glossed and faded, and in the few seconds we stared at each other, he didn't blink once, and for that matter, I can't recall hearing him breathe either.
His grotesque appearance caused me to stumble back, and the boy wasted no time in lurching for me. I quickly regained my composure, turned, and ran. I didn't even tell my brother to join me, but luckily he was smart enough to follow.
As we ran, I could hear my breathing, my brothers breathing, and both of our footsteps... but above all, I could hear that little boy's terrible moan dwarfing all of those sounds. At first, I was able to hear him shuffling behind us, but, he must have been a slow runner, because eventually all I got were moans, and even those finally quieted as we reached the store.
When I got here, the store was empty. It only makes sense that no one shops during martial law. What was surprising, was that the doors were unlocked. I however, wasn't about to complain. Perhaps some other people grabbed some food for their safe-houses.
As soon as we entered, and then locked the doors, I checked the rifle I was still holding. It was still in mediocre shape, but I realized I forgot to load it. I figure, I won't do that again, especially if every eerie moan belongs to someone as terrible as that boy.
My brother and I decided to sleep toward the back, that way we wouldn't be shot if the military came by. Before going to bed, my brother suggested that I keep a record of everything in my journal, incase we all die. I took Mr. Optimistic's advice, obviously, since sleeping is almost impossible with the moans echoing through the store's walls. It almost seems like they're getting louder, but if I'm ever going to get any sleep, I have to keep telling myself they're not.
End Entry
June 27, 2008