Captain's Log 2/4/2012: day 11, 11:20 am

Didn't sleep well last night.

Nightmares all night. Of my bike trip here.

All night.

I should recap and actually write down what happened. The things I saw. How I am still alive.

I don't know how I am still alive. Reading over last night's diary entry belies just how harrowing and terrifying the journey here was. And traumatic. Although there was only one incident where a zombie actually got a hand on me, it was a close call the entire way. There were so few times I could pull over and rest or drink some water. The streets always had zombies around. I had to always keep moving. And never that long in a straight line. Constantly weaving and on the lookout. I knew if I had a bad spill I was dead.

I'm also very thankful the bike's gears or chain didn't slip off. If it did I would be on foot. No time to fix anything.

And the things I saw. I didn't see many of them in the city, but there were a lot of them in the suburbs.

Zombie children.

What a harrowing thing to see. Little kids hobbling along covered in blood with mangled flesh and stinking of death and rot.

I had to plan my trip quite carefully. Stick to the roads that were open and away from shopping strips. Crashed cars blocked the streets, some with zombies still inside trying to figure out how to get out.

I'm not fit, I've spelled that out enough times and the hills killed me. I swear, fear was the only thing driving me sometimes. Knowing that if I slowed down just a bit too much I was dead meat. I could constantly hear that guttural moaning all around me. In the darkness.

Oh god. It was so dark. Although the moon was out and no clouds to obscure the dim light, it was still dark. The bike had a headlight that worked and was a serious help, but it was so scary riding along looking for bodies moving about in the darkness. Looking for movement.

And then all of a sudden a zombie is right in front of me, lit up in the headlights and I would have to swerve out of the way. And then wherever I swerved there was another one. Shit! The street is blocked, there's so many of them. Double back, weaving through the crowd that was only moments ago right behind me. Stay cool.. Stay cool.. don't panic.

Go down a side street, thank god it's clear and then the whole saga starts again. They are not there, then all of a sudden I'm surrounded!

Those faces in the night. Rotten, broken, torn. Bloody. Angry.

Hungry.

Gut wrenching horror. I wondered if I would ever get here. I seemed to ride forever.

Finally as I came up the Greensborough highway, the zombie crowd thinned out as the road widened and I peeled off to my street. As if by magic, the zombies almost disappeared and I found my house.

I couldn't rest though. My guard was still up and I prepared myself for the worst.

Yet they are not here. No trace of them.

I don't know what to make of it and I'm too exhausted for it, yet I can't not think about it.

Oh god I'm so exhausted. I have never before been so tired and drained and soul sick.

I don't know how I mustered up the energy and courage to go across the street and kill of my former neighbours.

My legs are cramping, my hands shake, my back is killing me and blisters on my hands and feet. My knees are aching. Bad headache and my eyes are dry and burning.

I should be hungry, but I'm too nauseous for that. I feel sick. Paranoid.

I'm in my bedroom. Bed still braced up against the door, but the front door is also still broken and the house not secured. Sneaky looks out through the slits of the front security windows show not much. No zombies. It's very quiet and I'm not sure what to make of it.

I have to rest. I'll try and eat something and get some fluids into me. I suspect I'll be resting and sleeping all day and try and get up to something tomorrow, whatever that might be, but right now I'm in no shape to do anything.

The nightmares are on top of me. Even right now. I can still see the silhouettes of those monsters lurching towards me. Blood and death and rot and stink and...

I have to sleep.

Wish me luck.

XX

9:30pm

Oh my GOD!

I slept just over 8 hours! Straight!

And I feel so much better!

I'm still sore, but it's more my body than my mental state. My head ache is even gone.

I was so hungry I downed one can of corn, one can of beans and one tin of mackerel. And lots of water.

I'm feeling positive. Ish. I feel revitalised, but I've had some more time to think.

I am traumatised. Can I say that officially?

My hands still shake (even though less than this morning) and I'm constantly scared and on edge. My eyes don't stay still for long. I'm always looking for danger, even within this bedroom. I'm paranoid about the small space behind the cupboard and even within the cupboard. I have to have the doors wide open or else I imagine there's a zombie inside that will at any moment jump out and attack...

Well, at that thought I think I'll say I am no longer feeling positive. What a depressing and terrifying rollercoaster I'm on. And by myself. I dearly miss the company of others. Even if they are freaking out and scared too, at least it's another person. Like a security blanket for a child.

I have none now. I am by myself and there is no one to help me. On my own. I wonder how Hunnah is doing. I can't help but feel guilty. Is she alive? Is she scared out of her mind like me? Will she escape or die there?

I know she's not my problem right now and I shouldn't blame myself, but I can't help but regret. I know I did the right thing by me, but I still hate it. I suppose I hate that it came to that. Although it's balanced out by my hatred of her. She did try to kill me after all. When I tried to help of all things!

Stupid bitch...

I shouldn't say that. Have I become so cold? She's just scared and lost. Her dad died in front of her and tried to kill her... I am ashamed...

And now for something completely different and back on topic: my current situation.

I know I need to open the bedroom door, secure the house and get supplies.

But I just can't seem to muster the courage to open the door. I'm scared.

What if there's a zombie right outside? It might shove the door open and hundreds of other monsters pour in and rip me apart...

Death by zombie is not pleasant. I've seen quite a few die from zombie attack and it's not pretty. If you're reading this, then you know what I mean. It's a slow gruesome death. It seems there's enough time for panic to take hold, the pain of being torn open and flesh ripped or bitten off you and the sight of your own broken body and guts spilling out of you before you die.

All the people I've seen die, did so horribly with terror firmly embedded in their eyes.

I don't want to die like that. I would rather starve or die of thirst.

Yet I know that if I bunker down, I will die, whereas if I run I at least have a chance...

I have tools in the backyard. Sledgehammer, axe. Weapons of real use to me, but I can't muster up the courage. My hands shake so badly it's probably a wonder if you can read my hand writing. I can barely read what I'm writing.

I feel dirty as well. Drenched in sweat, blood and dirt and grime.

The house smells bad as well. It's always been a musty old house, but now it smells... I dunno, just wrong. Everything just feels wrong if that makes sense.

Where are my family?

I was so fixated on the house last night I didn't even look for our car.

It's parked right out front by the curb. I know it has a solid half tank of diesel in it. Enough to go about 400 kilometres.

But I can't step through the broken front door to get to it.

I just can't...

Where the FUCK are my wife and kids? I miss them such much it's not goddamn funny. They are not here and I've got no idea what's happened to them or where they could possibly be right now.

How do I know they aren't hiding next door? Right now?

How do I know they aren't dead? Or undead?

The possibilities are sickening me to my core

I stink.

I want a shower.

I'm beginning to wonder whether survival is worth living...

But then, if I were to commit suicide how would I do it?