February 19
It has been three days since I went over to Sam's place. The storm stopped two days ago but we're still stuck here. The chopper sounds and gunshots returned though it gets fewer and fewer every hour. We've tried getting out of the house twice but twice we were forced to spend the day in her place again. We are both huddled on a corner of her room. It was really cold and we were wrapped with five layers of blankets. She had stopped crying a few minutes ago and had already fallen asleep with her head resting on my shoulder. I on the other hand, couldn't sleep after what I just saw and began writing this thing instead. It's becoming a habit I guess.
On our first try, a couple of infected spotted us even before we made it outside Sam's snow covered lawn. It was a close call since we only have one weapon which is a metal baseball bat and we're both afraid of getting bitten and luckily, we made it but not before I killed two of them. I felt sick to the core. I just killed two people dammit! But, on the other hand, it's either them or us and one more thing, they are not human anymore. That was my first lesson learned.
An emergency broadcast on Sam's portable battery-operated radio announced earlier that day that the infected could only be able to spread the virus by means of biting an uninfected individual. There's also some talk about the cold weather slowing the infection down but also the rescue teams as well. There also had been a mentioning of the use of nuclear weapons on 'lost cities' which pertains to cities that have an infection rate of more than 80% like Chicago, West New Berry, Boston, Charlotte and twenty-four other cities. Salt Lake City was reported to already have 64% infection rate in a span of more than a week.
On the second try, about a few hours later, we were just about to open the door when a deafening roar of bike engines filled the whole neighbourhood. At first we felt relieved thinking that it might be some survivors who can't stand waiting for the military and decided to act by themselves and rescue others. By the sounds of their engines, they appeared to have stopped right in front of Sam's house. There were a few gunshots followed by moans of infected. We were about to run out of the door but instincts stopped me short. I peered from one of the windows to have a better look at them. They're survivors alright, but not the friendly ones. This group consists of rugged biker guys complete with tattoos, piercings, guns and cigars making them look like absolute badasses. The idea of coming over to those guys for help immediately died down and I could see in Sam's face that she is thinking of the same thing. A door opened from a house across our block. They were probably thinking of the same thing we thought of earlier. They were a small family, a husband, a wife and a daughter no older than twelve. They ran over to them desperately and they got the help they wanted. Yeah right. They beat the dad into a pulp until he looked like a sorry piece of human trash before being shot by a Benelli M4 straight into the mouth. The next thing they did was of course, grabbed the wife and the daughter and dragged them back to their house. Judging from their screams and the bikers' maniacal laughs, what they were doing to them was beyond normal human behavior. Sam was crying but I reminded her to keep quiet or else they'll find us so she buried her face in my chest and let out muffled sobs. I, on the other hand was shaking with rage. An innocent family was getting destroyed out there and all I could do was just sit here and do nothing!
I realized that there's really nothing to be done and I just learned my second lesson. Out there, it's a matter of survival and only those capable will survive. Another lesson came up too, humans can sometimes be worse than those mindless infected. From now on, I kept it glued in my mind that not everyone can be trusted, especially on these times. If Sam and I are to survive, we have to learn the rules, and we have to learn them fast.