2100 hours, May 4th, 2010:

Survivor Total: 7 adults, 5 kids.

Today hasn't been a good day as far as days go. Maybe it's because almost everyone I've met today has freaking tried to eat me. Maybe it's cause I'm stuck here in Detroit with little to no chance of freaking getting home. Or maybe it's cause I smoked my last cigarette and now I'm stuck in this freaking Doctor's clinic without a freaking smoke in sight.

Most likely its the cigarette part though. Yeah I know some people would be more concerned about the whole freaking zombie apocalypse thing, but I say frag that shit, give me a smoke and I'm fine.

Oh Yeah, forgot to mention that part, the freaking world ended today.

What do I mean you ask? Since I'm keeping this journal for myself, I should probably be concerned that I'm asking myself to elaborate on my own thoughts, but hey, do what you gotta do to keep yourself from not thinking of a smoke right?

So I guess I should explain this whole end of the world thing, I mean it does seem slightly important right? While I'm at it, I might as well explain who I am, and what I'm doing right? OK here goes. To start, my name's Alexander, but everyone calls me Alex. I'm thirty years old, I turn thirty one this winter, or at least I should. I'm a big guy, standing at 6'2, and weighing in at two fifty.

To get to the whole end of the world thing, we gotta go back a few days. We still don't know what's causing the dead to rise, and it seems everyone's got a theory. From the news feeds we can get on the TV, there's a list of possible reasons. So I'll just list my favorites, since those are the only ones I really remember.

Altrucure. This snazzy little drug vaccine was suppose to change the world. And like many, I'm leaning towards the idea that it did indeed change it. See this new little miracle cure was suppose to make us immune to such annoying little problems as Aids/HIV, most types of cancer, Ebola and other nastiness right? It did this by tweaking our genetic code, Kicking our immune systems into overdrive, and allowing our bodies to regenerate cellular decay. Supposedly this stuff was suppose to slow aging, and the deterioration of the mind as well. Well if its to blame the shit does as promised, it will even keep you alive after your dead. Now this stuff was so good, and the research on it was supposedly so lock tight that just about every country in the world gave the greenlight to its maker, The Benford Group in a matter of months, not years like normal. The stuff's only been on the market now for two months, but an estimated 85% of the worlds population has already received it! President Obama was real big on the stuff, preventive medicine you know? Which dovetailed nicely with his reformed healthcare ideas. Only now we're hearing from a whole shitload of scientists, researchers and doctor's that the supposedly lock tight research by Benford may not have been so complete. Where the hell were these guys and gals two, even three months ago? From what we're hearing now, someone in the government shut them up, and it's only now with the whole end of the world thing are they getting a chance to talk. This theory is my favorite, cause it makes the most sense to me, I mean tweaking our genetic code? How is that a good idea? This ones also the scariest to me. Me, my wife, my two girls, and my son all received the Altrucure vaccine last month.

Wrath of God. Yeah, you knew this theory would pop up. Mainly being screamed by every two bit hustler which we call televangelists. Funny, the bastards are still trying to get our money, even with the whole end of the world shit. I seen a guy today telling us that the dead had returned cause we had become to sinful. Claimed gay marriage, and our acceptance of homosexual behavior was to blame. Oh and the abortion rate was to blame to. Not to mention that we no longer allow prayer in schools and such. Anyway, you get the point, fire and brimstone at it's best you know. Funny thing is, these money hungry con men are promising that for a prayer donation of a hundred bucks or more they can keep you from turning into one of the walking dead. I don't know which is more sad in my opinion. The fact that humanity has leeches like this, or that so many people believe them. Personally I think if this is the Wrath of God, its not due to gay's and abortions, but because freaks like this can still scam their fellow man when everything's going to pot. Who knows, I might be one of the walking dead myself by tomorrow, if I am, maybe I'll figure out who's right.

Aliens. Yeah, Aliens, as in little gray men from freaking Mars or some shit. There was a Scientologist on earlier trying to tell us that the Zombie plague was due to some evil Alien thing named Zortex, or some shit. Apparently ole' Zortex has corrupted the alien energies that reside inside each human being giving us consciousness, or something like that. I'm not much into the whole Scientology thing, nor do I believe all that much in little green spacemen. After all the only aliens I know are Latino, and work construction. But I include this one just because it illustrates how terrified everyone who's still alive is. See at this point, anyone who can offer even a half baked answer is finding more then a few people willing to listen and believe them.

Now then, back to my narrative. I don't normally reside in Detroit, I'm a southwest kinda guy, I ain't really got much taste for this mid America bullshit. Freaking far to many people crammed into too tiny a freaking place for my thinking.

Well so then what the hell am I doing here? Well to answer that I have a confession to make. I'm a gamer. Yup, I'm one of those guys who likes to spend his weekends sitting at a table, a set of dice in my hand, mountain dew in a Dixie cup and cold pizza on my plate as me and my buddies explore a world of make believe.

Now don't go thinking I'm one of those stereotypical nerdy's who stay's inside at all times, and hasn't ever kissed a girl. Truth is I'm married, got kids, nice house, good job, the whole kitten caboodle you know? Pretty normal life Monday through Friday. Course I work every other weekend, but that's the breaks. So what do I do? Well, as amazing as it sounds, I'm a member of the Phoenix PD Swat team. Second in command, of the team to. Not surprising considering that before my current gig I served in the U.S.M.C Scout Snipers. Joined the corps after high school, course that was after I got my high school Girlfriend knocked up and married her. At the time I hadn't given the service much thought. I was your typical teen, wanted to party and shit, but with a kid on the way, and no time for college, the Corps sounded like a good option.

So I joined, did three enlistment terms, but after twelve years my wife, at home with three kids wanted her husband home. So I left the Corps. Funny thing is the only thing I was good at was killing folks, and except for the mob, their ain't much demand for that type of profession. Except as a cop. Didn't take me long to get on the force, a quick trip to the academy and I was pushed on into SWAT, as a sniper.

Got to grease nine guys once in a hostage situation, that's pretty much been the highlight of my police career. Oh, and I got in trouble for greasing the fools. Police chiefs are funny like that, they get touchy when you geek a few guys holding people hostage. Apparently it endangers the hostages, who knew? I tried explaining that I had a clear shot, and the fools were misted before they knew what the hell was going on, but apparently I just made it worse for myself. Got suspended for two months with pay, so hey, family vacation time right? We went to Disneyland.

So what brought me to Detroit? That's were the gamer side of my life comes in. See every year there's this Con.. err Convention for you none nerdy types, at the Palladium books warehouse. That's the folks who make such fun games as Rifts, Robotech, and Beyond the Supernatural. Anyway, every since I heard about the Palladium Con, I've wanted to go, but each year some bullshit comes up and I can't make it. First Afghanistan, then Iraq, and so on.

Well this year was different, I finally made it to the Con. I can't tell you how excited I was coming here either, been waiting for this shit for like eight years. So I get here and things are going great right? First two day's I gamed forty eight hours straight. But then today, while bellying up to the table for a game run by the man, Mr. Kevin freaking Siembieda himself, we started hearing crazy shit going on outside.

I wasn't all that concerned at first, people were talking about riots and shit going on, but this is freaking Detroit, I mean this is freaking murder town USA you know? So what if some people were going nuts in the street? News reported it as race related violence, and it was limited to the downtown area, no big deal, we're on the east side of the city, near the suburbs, so I ain't worried. There's talk of people going to the hospital in droves, but at the time, it's blamed on wounded from the riots you know? We didn't start hearing about folks just falling over sick for a few more hours.

Although the news of riots and such didn't bother me much. Everyone else at the table was. A bunch of people had their laptops with'em, and Palladium had set the place up as a Internet hotspot, high-speed Wifi, you know? So everyone with a laptops online, checking out this supposed riot the new's is talking about.

But it ain't limited to just Detroit, it's everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Every city in the world is reporting riots, and war's in the street. In the states, Cops, and National guardsmen are being dropped like flies. But the craziest part of the internet blog reports, are the mention of dead folk coming back to life, and eating the living. Yeah freaking zombie's.

As funny as it sounds, we gamer's have an easier time believing these wild ass reports then most folks have. After all, isn't a gamer alive who hasn't played a game or a million about a zombie apocalypse? So we all quickly start getting ready to throw down with some undead cannibals. Funny thing about conventions are that people like to dress up in costumes and shit, and wear props. You'd think we're the drama club from high school, or college or something. In a way we are, but I digress. So a lot of people have swords, maces, and other old medieval weapons right? So we're fairly confident in our chances of survival.

Only problem is the average gamer is a fat fragger who, despite having read a zillion books on weapons, warfare and combat tactics can't run to the end of the block without running outta breath. So you can imagine the carnage that ensued. It wasn't long before a Zombie busts in the door, and lots of folks have the sudden epiphany that this shits really happening, and it ain't no game. Which means if you die, you're really dead, or well undead. Needless to say, nerdy's start running to get away from the thing, but we're all packed into a warehouse like so many freaking sardines.

Lucky for me the initial zombie that attacked the Con was a cop, with his service issued .357 mag still in his hand. A quick scuffle and I had the gun, and a quick headshot later, I was taking his belt and holster. Unfortunately that one zombie had killed nine people by the time I got the gun. Those nine killed eighteen, those eighteen killed thirty six, and so on. It took less then three minutes for the sudden horde of undead to turn the nerdy convention into an all you can eat buffet.

I managed to get a fire axe along with the service pistol I looted. Took down nearly twelve of the freaks before I was overrun, having to tuck tail and split. I had came to the Con with my little brother, and I managed to join up with him before we had to run. He had managed to loot a longsword from one of the meatbags. Not sure where the thing came from, and it sure as hell ain't a professional made sword. I'm betting it's little more then a sharpened piece of flatiron, but it works in smashing a zombie's head in. Plus it's freaking sharp, but how for how long he can keep it that way is anyone's guess.

Anyway, so me and my little brother Stevie, manage to get away from the mass of undead, who are all moaning and screaming at us as we run right? Well, it wasn't long before more of the freaking things show up, and their moaning to. Which seems to attract more and more of the damn things. So we give up on the straight up fighting idea, cause there's just too damn many of them for that crap.

We managed to get out of the warehouse, and make a bee line down the street, running through alley's and side-streets, trying to avoid the main roads, cause there's tons of the things on them. Not that the side streets were empty, but it was better then the main drag. We're wondering to ourselves where the hell all these freaking zombies are coming from, but it takes us a few hours to put it all together. See, over the last twenty four hours people have been dropping over sick like flies in winter. All those people are dying at a mindblowing rate. So much so that their having to stack them like firewood anyplace that's got the room. Worse they ain't telling the public this news because the powers that be are afraid it'll start a massive panic and the whole system will break down. To bad, that's exactly whats happened, it woulda been nice to have some warning.

We got nearly two blocks away before we hit our first major obstacle. Seems the Cops had set up a small roadblock, and we ran right into it. Might not have been that big of deal, except their all dead, and looking at us as if we're a freaking to go meal. A couple of quick shots from the revolver, and a few swings of the ole' fire axe and the meatbag copper's are out. We snag the shotguns they got in the cars, along with all the ammo for them. Not bad guns, the police here are using the old Winchester pumpguns, with a pistol grip and no stock. Not my favorite, I prefer the Mossburg Tactical, with a 12 round detachable mag, but hey, you work with what you got. I managed to grab a second .357, not caring much for the .38 specials most of the cops are carrying. The .357's aren't the top of the line Python I carry back home, but their still Colts, mass produced King Cobra's, basically the same thing as the python, but these are built by machines on a assembly line. The Pythons are all hand built, fitted and tested to exacting standards. Yeah I know sounds like I'm selling the things, but still.

Stevie get's himself a good ole Glock 19, and several mag's. In the trunks of the car's are some emergency kits. First aid kits, road flares, duct tape, some bottled water, some ration bars, and some zip ties. Added to this is a nice convenient carrying bag, a crowbar, and a Multi-tool to boot. Plus each cops got a big ole maglite. At this time we got maybe three boxes of 12 gauge ammo between the two of us, two boxes of pussy ass 9mm bullets, and a box of stiffy raising .357 rounds.

We snagged a set of bulletproof vests, and some tact harnesses off the dead cops, along with a Kevlar helmet each. But then we hear that damn moaning begin, along with the great cat like screeches that the things release when they can smell you. Stevie did a couple of terms in the Army, not infantry, he was a artillery guy, but still, he's better trained then most civies. Not to mention we've both kept in shape, Stevie ain't no SWAT guy, he works in construction, busting concrete and framing up houses keeps you in good shape. So we hightail it the hell down the street.

We run a few blocks before we run into another pack of the freaking undead cannibals. Funny I should of been scared, but this pack is a mob of girl scouts complete with those funky little uniforms they wear. All I can do is laugh as the things rush us. Buckshot though makes short work of a human body, whether alive or undead, buckshot at close range turns bodies into freaking hamburger.

So after we splatter these little brownies all over the wall, we hear screaming coming from the roof of a diner. We look across the street and we see a pair of people on the roof. A waitress in a black t-shirt, and bluejeans. She's got a frying pan in her hand and is beating the brains outta any meatbag that comes near her.

Behind her, with a freaking camcorder is a big fatguy. He's got a grease stained apron on, and I'm betting he's the cook right? He's got the silly looking paper hat on, and he's just recording away. Not really sure, guess he's trying to show people whats out there, guess I'll have to ask him tomorrow.

Anyway, there's a horde of the things in the diner, trying to get onto the roof and turn these two into lunch. I look at Stevie, and he just shrugs, guess we got a bit of the hero complex in us, cause we decide to help the two of 'em.

We run across the street, as we go we're shouting to get the their attention. I reach the door first, and blast the first zombie I see in the back of the head. Stevie's quick to pump a few buck shot rounds into the back of a few of their heads to. Now normally, most rational people would start ducking down, looking for cover when people are slinging buckshot like it's freaking pez.

But Zombie's don't much care, apparently fear isn't an emotion their capable of. The freaks turn and start running towards us. It isn't long and we're in the center of a freaking mob of cannibals trying to munch us. We're blasting away, but the pumpguns only hold five rounds. So it ain't long and we're outta shells in them. We pull our pistols, Stevie ain't the best shot, but at pointblank range, even he can't miss.

But it isn't long and our pistols are empty to. We haven't got the time to reload, you'll find when being pressed on all sides by a mob of fleshbags you better have a melee weapon of some kind. Axe and sword time, and it gets bloody. Both of us are bit more then once, and I'm thinking its all over for us. I mean every movie or book you read about zombies says that a bite is how the infection spreads right?

Well, maybe it is, but so far I haven't changed, nor have the other three, and all of us have been bitten repeatedly. So were still speculating. It seems that the only way you turn into a zombie, is if you die. As far as we can tell, a bite alone won't turn you, but we could be wrong, no one knows yet, and if we change, it's doubtful we'll know either. We're twelve hours into our possible infection, and who knows if we'll change, or not.

But anyway I'll get back to the narrative of the day's events. So we're hacking away at the undead, and there's blood and brains everywhere. Well eventually we find ourselves clear of the undead in the cafe, and we're looking outside, and we see a bunch running, and shambling towards us. Seems Zombie's come in two varieties, fast and slow. Most are slow though so we got sometime we reckon.

Our rooftop compatriots come down off the roof, and after the initial hysterical thank yous for saving my ass from them, we introduce ourselves.

Our waitress is named Tiffany, a single mom of three she says. She ain't a bad looking gal, I can see how she'd end up on someones list to bang. But she is stacked pretty good, even if she is kinda pudgy in the middle. Course after three kids you gotta expect that right? Plus she's a blonde and has this set of eyes that just screams she wants to go down on you and she'll moan in delight the whole time she's draining you, you gotta love that in a gal.

Our cook's named John, and while Johns a fatty from hell, turns out he's also a film student, hence his walking around with a camera. Guy grabs a laptop from the kitchen, apparently his, and then say's he's all ready to go. I give him a funny look and ask him if he plans on running around a city of undead fraggers with only a camera and a laptop.

Course I might as well have saved my breath, cause that's exactly what he plans to do. Needless to say I put Johns chances of survival at nearly nil. But oh well, I'd rather have fatty behind me to sate the zombie's hunger. I mean after all, a guy as big as him can prolly feed a lot of zombies.

So here we are now, a posse of four and we see a horde coming towards us. I yell for us to go out the back and we make a bee line out the backdoor. There's some of the things out back to, but it's an alley, so their aren't that many. A few shots and we're clear, and running down the road.

It was then that I noticed that all of us are sporting injuries, and we need some medical assistance. We got a couple of first aid kits from the cops car's we took at the roadblock, but that ain't gonna do a lot, we need real medical care. I got some medical training in the Corps' but not a lot, ditto for Stevie. Tiffany isn't got anymore then the two of us, and John hasn't got the sense god gave a rock. So we ain't got much choice but to find a doctor, or something near to it.

Problem is when people started getting sick the first places they went were the doctor's, clinics, and hospitals. And of those that got sick, all of them died. The dead didn't stay that way, they came back as the first wave of zombies, starting the whole problem. Worse we're not sure how many people got sick and died to start off with. The few broadcasts on the radio and TV we've managed to get are claiming upwards of 50% of the worlds population died in the past twenty four hours, and their just now telling us about it. Since the dead rose the death total is projected at 60%-75% of the worlds total population. Worst those that died are now running around looking for the remainder of us humans still living.

But we didn't know these little tidbits at the time. We're still under the impression that not many people are sick, and that while there's zombies running around, their mostly out and about. How wrong we were.

We found a clinic after about an hour of running and gunning. When we found it, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. The clinic is a Multi-storied thing, and we run into the ground floor, not really thinking about the possible danger. I mean we saw some people inside, and assumed it was safe.

I should of known better, after all in the Corps we're always saying that assumption is the mother of all frag-ups.

Anyways we run into the building, and only after we're locking the doors behind us do we realize. All the people we saw moving around inside are dead. And we just locked ourselves inside with them.

Talk about the fly running into the spiders web. However we didn't have time to reflect on our stupidity, the undead are on us in a heartbeat, and we're fighting for our lives. I don't really remember much of the fight, it all kinda blurs together into one big tide of blood and gore. I remember shooting until my gun runs dry, then switching guns. It ain't long before I'm outta bullets in all my guns, and I'm swinging the axe about. Funny thing is I remember not being scared, maybe cause I'm already figuring I'm dead, so why be scared.

Anyway, we didn't die, else I wouldn't be writing this now. We finally got clear, and I'm reloading my guns. We can hear the damn things on the floor above us, moaning and screeching, and we can hear screams. As soon as I'm reloaded I make for the stairs, taking them two at a time, until I hit the landing and doorway for the second floor. Stevie's behind me, maybe by three or four steps. We pull open the door, and move into the floor, and for the first time I remember being horrified.

You see the second floor is the pediatrics level, and there's all these women, and kids on this floor. Half the women are pregnant, and the other half are either pregnant and undead, or soon to be. And theirs all these little kids running around, either trying to get away from their mothers who are trying to eat them, or trying to catch their mothers to eat them.

There's screams and crying and for a few seconds I'm just too horrified to do anything but stand there and watch. But then a kid runs up to me screeching and snarling. At that point the instincts of several tours of combat kicked in, and I blasted the little thing in the face, blowing its head off. The thing drops at my feet, but it's followed by another, and another. Once more we're killing to survive, and things become a blur again.

When its all over, us four are still alive. We even managed to save a few of the kids, and a pregnant teen whose a kid herself. Poor thing just turned thirteen, and she's six months along. Tiny thing, I find myself wondering if she'll survive giving birth to the twins in her belly. But that's for later. We gotta survive long enough for her to give birth. Our pregnant girls named Maria, little Spanish girl whose parents came here illegally and had her, hoping to give her a better life.

Of the kids we saved, we've got four, two boys, and two girls. They range in ages from three to nine, and the lot of them are so traumatized we haven't gotten a word out of them. We've yet to come up with a name for them, but they follow Maria around like she was their mother. Poor things seem to feel safer with her then us. Right now the lot of them are sleeping together in a makeshift bed nearby. The kids are scared of us, but Maria is sticking to Stevie like he was her freaking dad, or boyfriend. Not sure which.

But we're only on the second floor at this time, and we got two more to go. Maria was thanking us hysterically, and the kids are still hiding. I tell her to round up the kids and to stay on this floor, after all, everything's dead here.

Tiffany, our pudgy waitress is breathing heavy, and I notice she's really pale. Looking her over I see she's got more then a few good bite marks on her arms, and one nasty bleeding one on her thigh. I ask her if she wants to strip here in front of everyone so I can bandage her up, or if she wants to go to a side room. Tiffany's a smart gal, she shakes her head and moves over to a clear spot and starts taking her pants off. Following behind, I wait till she's sitting and take out the first aid kit I got. She gives me a brave smile as I take out a pressure bandage. I gotta hand it to her, she's a tough gal, cause all she did is wince as I fix her thigh. She even laughed at my attempt to cheer her up by commenting on her undies. She's wearing a nice set of see through lacy g-string things, and I'm sitting at eye level to her goods, so you can see why I commented on it.

I cleaned her thigh with some of the bottled water I got in the emergency kit, and I put some antibiotic cream on the wound before covering it with the bandage. I let her sit a few minutes, before she put her jeans back on. Partly cause I was enjoying the sight of her ass half naked, and partly cause I figure she needs the rest. She's a healthy woman, but not use to this kind of thing.

During that time, we're listening to the sounds on the floor above us, there's more of the damn things, and we can hear the living up there scream as they die and join them. I can't tell you how terrible that feeling of helplessness is listening to other people die. Words, at least mine, can't begin to describe it.

As we're listening to this I notice Tiffany's crying, and not able to think of anything else I take her in my arms and hold her a few minutes. In case your wondering, no I'm not that sensitive of a guy, but even I can tell what she's thinking, her three little ones are probably one of those damn things, or like us, soon to be. Without really thinking about what I'm saying, I tell her we'll find her kids as soon as we get patched up and rest a bit. Funny thing is my words must have brought her some amount of comfort, cause she nods her head, and kisses my neck. Whispering thank you into my ear. Yeah, it turned me on. Is it bad that I'm thinking of banging her?

But I put those thoughts aside, and gently pat her back telling her to get dressed, we got work to do. She nods again and after wiping the tears from her eyes, gets dressed. Me and Stevie reload and we head up the stairs again. I notice Tiffany's standing closer to me as we go up the steps, and I'm thinking this is a good thing. Still thinking of banging her.

Anyway we hit the third floor and this time we do things a little smarter, I crouch down at the door, pointing my head to the left for Tiffany to stand, and then wave Stevie around to my back. Stacked up I open the door, and quickly put my pumpgun in front of me. There's not as many on this level, maybe twenty or so, but as soon as the door opens they come running, or limping along. Like I said, Zombies are mostly slow moving things, so even though they're stumbling along at a snails pace, that's their version of a charge. Lucky for us, there isn't any of the runners up here, just the slow moving kind.

I dropped five with my pump gun, before handing it to Tiffany, along with a handful of shells. Pulling out my first revolver, I drop six more. Tiffany gets the pumpgun reloaded, and starts blasting at the on coming wall of undead. She ain't the greatest shot, but their getting close enough that it don't really matter much. She's a stout gal, and I smile at her as she handles the 12 gauge with more then a little toughness. She returns my smile and even gives me a wink, and then I notice, she's got blue eyes.

Funny I didn't notice that before. But at any rate, we still have a few of the things coming down on us. Stevie's doing his best to drop them, but he's outta loaded magazines for the Glock, and we ain't got the time for him to reload the ones he's got. I growl at him that he should have done that while I was wrapping Tiffany's leg. Like always my little brother shrugs, and says my bad, as if that's an excuse or something.

Luckily by then there's only like five or so of them still moving. Holstering my six gun I grab the fire axe and move forward, splitting their skulls like firewood. Stevie's beside me, his makeshift sword bashing as much as it's cutting. Before we know it, the things are all dead.

We yell for anyone still alive on the floor, as we're looking at the dead things all over the floor. To our surprise a nurse pops her head out from behind the desk. She's messed up pretty good, got a chunk missing from her thigh, and several from her arm.

She's about my age, brunette, and like Tiffany a little pudgy, but she ain't got Tiffany's top if you know what I mean. Not a bad looking gal either, even if she's covered in blood, most of it her own. Stevie moves forward, doing his best to patch her up. She's scared outta of her mind, as nearly being eaten alive does that to you. She thanks us and after Stevie gets her patched up, she nearly jumps on him as she hugs him.

I find it kinda funny, though why I don't really know. Maybe it's the whole craziness of the situation. Maybe it's the fact that Stevie grabbed her ass as she did so. Anyway she just clings to Stevie for a few minutes before I tell everyone we're going up to the fourth floor to clear it. Not much sense in taking shelter in a place with the walking dead in it is there?

I remind Stevie to reload his Glock's magazines, and hand Tiffany some more shells for the pumpgun. Then I reload my revolver, and move to the stairwell. I wait a few minutes, before everyone joins me. John's still recording everything, and I'm getting more then a little annoyed at the fatman's stupidity. But I figure he's still the most likely to be eaten, so I let it slide, after all, no need to upset the bait right?

So then everyone's in the stairwell with us, and I have a thought, turning I ask the nurse her name, and she laughs, having forgotten all about it herself. April she says is her name, and we introduce ourselves quickly. Then we move up the stairs to the fourth floor. It's funny, but we didn't hear anything from the fourth floor, and as we're going up I hit on this little detail. Looking at April I ask her if anyone's up here. She shrugs, telling us she has a friend that works up here, who she knew came in today cause they ride to work together.

I ask her what the fourth floor does, and she laughs, Elderly care, she says. Well now I'm worried that we're going to find a floor full of old geezer Zombie's but when I get to the door I find it locked. I knock on the door a few times, yelling for someones attention. A moment later an old geezer in a white coat looks out the little window and nearly feints at the sight of us. I admit, we look a lot like the undead ourselves, pale, covered in blood, and looking for imminent violence, but I laughed at the old timer. Apparently my finding his discomfort humorous was all the proof he needed that we're in fact alive. So he unlocks the door and lets us in.

Inside we find this level clear of any zombies, even more impressive, the doctor's still alive, even if he is old and got one foot in the grave. A skinny woman ran past me, and I nearly shot her as she screamed happily and grabbed April in a hug. If not for Aprils own scream of delight I woulda popped the woman in the head. Having just ran across several zombie infested area's, I hope you can understand why I was a bit twitchy.

Anyway we tell the Doctor that we need some serious medical care, and he agrees to treat us, assuming we can get him downstairs to the clinic's supply room, and the pharmacy. Again, I think you'll understand why we easily agreed to this plan.

Going down wasn't nearly as bad as going up, as we'd already killed all the damn things trying to eat us. Once on the ground floor we watched as the Doctor fills his black bag with stuff. Then fills a second and third bag with shit. Where he found the bags I don't know, and truthfully I don't really care. His looting done he nods for us to go back upstairs. A quick stop on the 2nd floor for Maria and the kids, and we're on our way back up.

Despite being old as dirt, Doc handles the sight of all the blood and gore better then I imagined he would have. Turns out he was a surgeon back in 'Nam, so to him this isn't all that bad. Funny but the old timer can spin a good tale or two if you let him. He's a skinny guy, about 5'10 or so. Got a head full of white hair, cut short like a lot of old guys do. Wears a mustache of white hair to, and believe it or not he's got the old fashion John Lennon glasses.

Doc gave us his name as he and the skinny nurse looked us over for triage. Say's his names Samuel, and the Skinny nurse is named Melissa. Melissa's pretty I guess, if rail thin women, without any tits or ass are your thing. I guess she's got a top, but not enough for me to notice. Funny, Maria's better stacked then her, and she's just a kid in a training bra. Ain't life a hoot?

So the Doc patches us up. As we wait for our turn, we're sitting in the waiting room, and the Doc has this big ass TV hanging on the wall. We're watching it, and that's when a lot of the details I've been putting into this so far become known. Like how people are getting sick all over the world and dieing. Not to mention by this point even the news is talking about zombie's. They got people from the C.D.C, and other government officials on the news feeds. Everyone's saying the same thing, stay inside, search and rescue will come to you, blah, blah, blah.

But what they aren't talking about is the fact that most of the medical community is dead, along with the cops, firefighters and other first responders. Well dead I guess isn't the right word for it, undead.

It's at this point that I feel more then a little dread shoot through my spin. My wife's a nurse to, and I'm just hoping she didn't answer her phone and go in today. She's suppose to be on vacation with me here at the Con, so she's hopefully at home with the kids. I tried calling, but the systems down. Apparently the level of call traffic is so great that no one can get through to anyone.

After the Doc got me patched up, I sat back down in the lobby, watched some strange survivalist thing they're showing. Teaching people how to fight and kill the damn zombies. But telling someone unused to a gun to shoot them in the head, and that person actually doing it are worlds different.

Shortly afterwards Tiffany came out and sat down beside me. She curled up next to me, and asked me to hold her. I know she's scared, hell even I am, not knowing the fate of your loved ones is worse then anything. I wrap my arms around her again, and pull her close. I know some folks might be thinking that I shouldn't have been holding Tiffany like I was, but the truth is, if my wife's still alive, I pray that she has some guy to hold her now. It's funny how reassuring a human touch can have on one's mental condition. I hope that Heidi, my wife has that now, more then ever.

After awhile it became apparent that the news is just repeating the same shit over and over again. No one knows whats the cause of all this, and no one knows how long this is gonna last. President Obama gave a quick speech, just before they herded him away with several top level scientists, and military brass to an undisclosed bunker.

It was the expected bullshit, remain calm, remain indoors, your government is doing everything in it's power to save it's own ass, and you poor fraggers are dead. Martial law is being declared starting at 1900 hours tonight EST. Funny, I doubt there's that many troops left to cover the whole country now. Of course our forces are being recalled from overseas, but like everyone else, I doubt those poor bastards are gonna live long enough to re-deploy here in the states.

Tiffany asks me if I'll sleep with her. Not sex, just sleep, she's still scared and finds things better when she's being held. Despite being a tough ex-marine, I feel the same way. I wonder if that makes me something less? So she and I have made up a pallet together, not much, just some clinic blankets and pillows spread out on the floor. She's gonna sleep with the pumpgun next to her, and ditto for me and my revolvers.

So why am I writing this? Hell where did I find the paper for it? Well you may have noticed the front cover say's medical journal. Snagged this from the supply closet, apparently its for patients to keep a journal of their symptoms, as well as their treatment, or rather that's what it was printed for. Nice thing, notebook sized, got a tough plastic cover, and metal spine to hold the pages together. I snagged a stack of them, as each of these only has like 250 pages or so, and I've already written twenty.

Hell I'll prolly be one of the damn things tomorrow, but maybe not. I guess I'm writing this to keep from going crazy. Or maybe I hope that if I do die, someone living will find this, and I will, in someway be remembered. Not really sure why I'm keeping it. Anyway, gotta go for now, Tiffany's getting ready for bed and she's asking me to put this down and hold her. So, here's hoping there's a tomorrow.

Damn I need a smoke.