Earlier this evening I plucked this paperback treasure from an aged, overflowing receptacle. It smells like cabbage and I had to thread the plastic binding back through several of the holes to keep the pages from falling out, but my efforts will soon pay off. Given my circumstances, I believe this odorous notebook will become my greatest coping mechanism. Also, it will give me the opportunity to fulfill a brooding dream of mine; to transfer the graffiti from the walls of the city onto paper, somewhat preserving the memory of its authors. When it boils down to it, I really have no idea as to why I have this strange desire. Nevertheless, this is one project that I am determined to see through to the end. That is, until one of those bastards finally takes me down.

Suppose I should introduce myself before I begin. My name is Aiden LaFortune. The following scribbles will chronicle my material and written findings around the city, both for organization purposes and to keep my sanity in check.

---------------------

Month 1, Day 12, Late Afternoon

Scavenged the garbage behind a strip joint in western peninsula. Found a broken pencil, sharpened it with my knife and stored it in my pack. Whetstone is wearing thin, need to find another soon, lest my blade grow too dull on me. Also found a can of dog food inside the club. The place was barricaded, had to break a window to gain entrance. Occupants were hostile, but I managed to slip away. Cut my hand on the glass during my escape, had nothing to wrap with. Hope it doesn't get infected. Current supplies:

1 Braided rope (28 ft.)
2 Cans of food remaining. NEED FOOD.
1/2 bottle of Ibuprofen
1 M24 Rifle
27 Rounds left (plan round-trip to campus soon)
1/3 gallon of clean water
0 patience, craving nicotine and women

New graffiti entries:

The Mall

"Marte - Sarah is dead, we're moving on - Left you some ammo in the garden behind the fountain - good luck."

Gas Station near strip joint

"Waited for three days, running out of food. Making bee-line for hospital. Sorry Ramon."

Alley behind office building

"The end is here, now what?"

Hmm interesting perspective of looking at a zombie menace. The writings...Great idea.I must say that while playes RE1 Yeah The zeds were cool but what was really involving was The diaries notes and documents . There was one which endend in words "Ichy ichy....tasty..." Whem I read it it was like" oh what happens next?: less & less writing and in the end these last words written ,it was smashing.That is why I like your piece Aiden. I can se the "Day by day Armageddon " style here.and one more thing.... "0 patience, craving nicotine and women "this enty was just... . ...Having a sharp look over oneself during a zombie menace is a good advantage.

Month 1, Day 15, No Idea What Time It Is

Been cooped up inside an apartment complex since early this morning. Smelled the creatures before they even showed up. Nearly a hundred of them, from what I could see before I barricaded myself in this cramped studio.

Note to self: creeps travel in packs. Why? Don't know, don't care.

Whoever was in here prior to my arrival was a complete slob. Empty cans and excrement litter the floor and even parts of the wall for some reason. The smell is unbearable. Maybe the zeds haven't attacked the door because the stench encompasses my own odor? Regardless, I'm waiting for what I believe to be another twelve hours before moving again.

Met another survivor before encountering the horde. Some weird chick named Linda. She was covered in blood, though none of it was hers. When I learned of that, I muttered a quick farewell and distanced myself from her. I'm not sure how this crap spreads, but if that's infected blood all over her clothes and face, I don't want to spend any more time with her. She wasn't very good looking, anyway. Story of my new life.

The cut on my hand seems to be healing. Rinsing the cut with my drinking water every once in a while to keep dirt out. Thought about ripping my pants or shirt to bandage the wound, remembered I haven't swapped clothes in over thirty days, quickly changed my mind.

Going to be super pissed when: hand rots off.

Current supplies:
0 food. Stomach is contorting. Hurts.
1/7 gallon of water. Unable to conjure saliva. Rarely urinating. Dehydrated?
1 Rope, same
Rifle + rounds, same
Ibuprofen, same.

Ran out of ink with pen, retrieved sharpened pencil from my pack to continue entry.

-1 ballpoint pen. Stress level = You probably don't want to know. NEED A DAMN PEN.

Stopped missing television today. Still craving video games, cigarettes and sex. Too tired, stressed and surrounded by filth to even think about relieving myself of that third need. Besides, I'm a righty, and it just so happens that I cut my right hand wide open. Story of my new life again.

In hindsight, I shouldn't write about such things, seeing as this journal will end up in another persons hands one day.

Note to self: don't describe such desires.

...new note to self: who f***ing cares?

Wish I could see through the windows. Disgusting prior inhabitant did a terrific job of boarding them up with what I assume to be power tools. He left half of them here, along with plenty of nails and even a few extra strips of lumber. Totally useless to me as of now, too heavy to carry with me and use later. Pity. Going to mark this location on my map and revisit it later, if need be.

Discovered some graffiti on the side of this building before seeking refuge.

"MEDIA = LIARS. THERE IS NO CURE."

---------------------

(Thanks Shiriru :p I remember the diary from RE1 that you're talking about. It creeped me out quite a bit. Day By Day Armageddon is sitting on a shelf roughly five feet away from my computer lol. Excellent read in my opinion.)

I Have read only bits & pieces of Armageddon ,thinking about getting one somehow .Have you got more of your Scrapbook?

Month 1, Day 20, Early Afternoon

Seems to be getting warmer. Suppose winter is finally coming to a much needed end. I wonder how this will impact the zombies. Could the lower temperatures have been preserving their decomposing flesh? With each day that passes I worry more and more about the summer months intensifying the already horrid stench of these creatures as well. Perhaps they will rot more quickly.

Note to self: be more active during summer.

I will be able smell them from farther away and I assume they will be slower than usual. Should my hypothesis quite literally bite me in the ass, I'll slow my pace. Wait, no I won't. I'll be dead. Sort of.

Note to self: dig grave, leave one round behind for worst case scenario.

Glad to have gotten out of that disgusting apartment. Zeds gave me no problems, as expected. For a very unpleasant moment I considered covering myself in the filth of that complex, thinking perhaps I could move around more freely if I did so. Ultimately I decided against it. Running around this hellhole is bad enough already, I doubt I'd be much better off coated in human waste.

Dug through some trash behind a supermarket, didn't have any luck for some reason. You'd think the big stores would throw away more edibles than gas stations and strip joints. Seems I've been approaching my solution to starvation all wrong.

Several hours after my failure at the market I discovered a few shacks along the western port. Inside I found several poles and instruction manuals detailing how to catch sea bass and the like. I doubt I'll be able to catch anything, but I figure it's worth a shot.

No other survivors encountered as of late. I sometimes think back to Linda, wondering if she's already turned, or if she's killed any other survivors. She seemed to be the type. Glad I managed to get away from her.

Note to self: avoid people more than zombies.

The undead are slow and predictable. Humans utilize logic and weapons. It's clear who I should be more careful around. A well trained sniper could pick me off from over five hundred yards away, hell, a woman could convince me that her boyfriend needs help, lead me into a room, then have an accomplice render me unconscious and steal my possessions, or worse.

In the back of one of the shacks was a large crate full of bottled water. I filled my jug and collected several bottles for my pack. Should be alright for about a week if I ration it correctly.

Cut on my hand has healed completely, although I've run low on Ibuprofen. Been plagued by strong headaches lately. Lack of sugar in my diet, perhaps?

Current supplies:

3 cans of bait (gross, but edible)
1 rope, same
1 gallon of water
3 bottles of water
Rifle + rounds, same
Ibuprofen, 8 pills left
1 fishing pole

Pack is getting heavy. We'll see if this inhibits my ability to move around.

Graffiti discovered along the way:

On side of gas station,
"Down with the clans!" (Whatever those are. Gonna keep my ears open.)

Bulls-eye on road in middle of 4-way intersection,
"NUKE HERE!"

Behind harbormasters office,
"Where is your god now?"

---------------------

Here's some more, buddy :3

Hmm let me ask you something Is writing jour hobby or pieces of the story come to you out of the blue? Im asking because it is a good story I read many different ones befre be it pro or not and they are not as good as yours (I remember bout a story of the school infested with zombiez .This was A co work of two guys where after some few pages you got the impression like :"Yo dude lets make a zombie out of our maths teacher she's a total *** & it will be fun. " I don't even remember the title of the story but it was horrible contrary to yours and i am absolutly frank here.There was also a book entitled" The Hole" by AAron Ross Powell I stopped reading it after 26 chapters 'cause it became like there were zombies and...the sub plot of the sub plot of the sub plot of the main plot of the story. (Hope you know what i mean) Yours is condensed clear and easy to read.I like it very much keep on writing . As for me I would like to recommend reading "Monster Island/Nation/Planet this is a cycle of books By David Wellington ,maybe you may have read it already. But it is also good pece of writing in my opinion. The second part of the cycle is my fav.Plus its free,a bit had to read from the screan but very involving books

Month 1, Day 22, Late Afternoon

Note to self: avoid sewers and subway tunnels.

Tried moving around the city using the abandoned catacombs beneath us, turned out to be a horrible idea. I went through nearly all of my rifle ammunition on the journey back to the surface. I simply wanted to return to the college campus to stock up on supplies. Had I known what was lurking in the darkness below, I never would have attempted this ridiculous stunt.

Turns out the tunnels aren't safe whatsoever. The undead have somehow managed to go underground, and believe me, they're friggin' everywhere. Most of them seem to be children and teenagers though, for some reason. Maybe because they can fit more easily through the broken gratings around the city? Whatever. Stay away from smelly tunnels in the future.

Upon my return to the pier, I tried my hand at some fishing after giving my manual a quick read. After many hours of boredom, impatience and a sore ass, I scored what my book calls a king mackerel. Not quite sure how to prepare it; the fish is quite oily. Perhaps I could smoke or grill it somehow.

Note to self: fishing is time consuming and painful. I'd rather dig through garbage.

Dumped my pole after consuming what was left of my bait. I assume the substance in the container was blended worms. If not, I could have just ingested chum, which will probably give me salmonella. I'm not a medical expert or anything, but I've heard bad things about consuming raw fish.

-1 fishing pole and bait = easier for me to move around. Less stuff I carry around, the better. Dump some of my water? We'll see.

Note to self: find safe area to hide food and water.

If I'm having trouble finding anything to eat or drink, I think it will be a good idea to hide some in a hole somewhere or maybe in a hotel room right now. This way, should I be faced with starvation or severe dehydration, I can return to the hotel room and buy myself a few more days. I would stay at the campus and work for the military, but I simply don't trust 'em. As far as I can see, the government had something to do with this mess, so they can set up their own damn tents.

...note to self: procure a tent.
Side note: playground equipment makes uncomfortable bed.

Today I noticed that I've been tightening my belt more and more. Seems I've lost quite a bit of weight since the pandemic erupted. This worries me. Soon I shall begin working out and lifting whatever objects I can find to slow the deterioration of my muscles. My health needs to be priority number one.

Current supplies:
1 rope, same
4/5 gallon of water
M24 Rifle, 3 Rounds Remaining - NEED AMMO!
Ibuprofen, 4 pills left - NEED MEDICINE!

Still no sign of other survivors. Starting to get lonely. Really lonely. Hallucinated a while ago, thought I saw a family crossing the street together. Think I may be losing my mind. Is this journal really helping? Guess we'll see.

Graffiti discovered today:

Behind tattoo parlor,
"Beware of undead dog."

Inside housing complex lobby,
"ANIMALS NOT IMMUNE! NOTHING SAFE!"

On barricaded storefront,
"European countries quarantined; infection is global."


---------------------

I've always enjoyed writing, though I've never considered myself a professional or anything. I enjoyed Monster Nation quite a bit, it's also sitting near me on a shelf lol. I'm glad you're enjoying my little story so far. It's a fun time waster.

This is a VERY interesting story, and you're probably a better writer than I am...

I hope you keep writing on this! (Now I will return to the mountain of work I gotta do, it's delaying my story! )

@Zed
Zed i dont think you should discourage yourself from writing. cause as i said every story is a different one. Both of you have your own style of writing it can be judged only if the story develops .and not after one or two chapters My point is Kip on writing if you have time and mood for it Zed. I Am sure that Aiden will agree with me

@ Aiden

No its not it is very constructive and if its easy for you than it is great I wish I could write a longer story myself (recent attempts failed though.)

Month 1, Day 25, Twilight

The journey took longer than expected, but I made it back to the college campus. Seems little has changed here since my last visit. Military personnel are running around like headless chickens as usual, as is the occasional civilian, whom I assume is working for money. As badly as I need money right now, I should probably find some temporary work too. But I hate these bastards. First they kill all of my friends, my family, and my dog, and now they expect me to work for them?

I'll flip a bottle cap.

...bottoms. I'm not working for these jack-offs.

Spent the vast majority of my savings on food and water, purchased some much needed 7.62 rounds afterward.

Current savings: $7.00
Anxiety: Climbing higher and higher

All of that aside, it's good to see other living beings for a change. Haven't seen an undead in, I assume, twelve hours or so. Should probably scavenge a Radioshack for a watch. Checking the time by glancing at the suns position is a pain.

Speaking of survivors, I met another woman. I asked for her name and she said, "My name isn't important anymore. Just call me Ford." Apparently she was a huge Ford enthusiast before the dooky hit the fan. I was a Honda man myself. Used to ride around on a VTX1300. I miss that bike. Great gas millage and extra padding in the seat. (Don't judge me.)

Note to self: procure gas, return to parking garage, get my damn bike back.

Retrieving my wheels will be no small feat. There were hundreds of those things both in and out of the building, and if I don't go at the right time of day, I'll be in complete darkness. Damn skyscrapers block so much sunlight...but if I can secure my bike, I'll be able to move around city much more quickly.

Ford told me that northern Canada had escaped the infection because it was too wild and cold for the zombies to hunt there. It's an interesting theory, to say the least, but until I hear something about it from another person, I'll pass it along as useless gossip. It's hard to imagine a place in the world where animals and humans are more commonplace than the Zeds. Still, it brings a comforting picture to mind. I think I'll make that my go-to place for when things become too stressful.

With help from a solder, I grilled my fish and shared it with him and Ford. It was beginning to stink up my pack pretty bad, so it was now or never. To be honest, it wasn't not too bad. I'd prefer cod or catfish. Oh well.

Current supplies:
1 rope, same
1 gallon of water
2 bottles of water
M24 Rifle, 12 Rounds Remaining
4 cans of corn
4 cans of peaches

Ran out of Ibuprofen before I reached the campus. Already my headaches are returning. Can't afford more. I wonder if my stress level has something to do with them? I don't care. I just want them to go away. That horrible throbbing will undoubtedly cause me to miss crucial shots with my rifle. Story of my new life again.

Note to self: raid pharmacy A.S.A.P.

After this entry I'll talk to Ford about traveling with me to the drugstore. Who knows, maybe she is in need of medicine too. Not to mention...female products.

Note to self: ...ew.

My hand hurts. This will suffice.

New graffiti entries:

On road in front of campus entrance,
"If bitten, turn back or be shot."

Billboard atop housing complex,
"ALIVE IN PENTHOUSE SEND HELP"

Alleyway between office buildings,
"Safehouse this way -->" (Turned out to be false; warehouse was compromised.)

On asphalt in front of gas pumps,
"DRY, KEEP MOVING"

---------------------

Aw, thanks Zed! The more comments I get, the more incentive I have to continue this little project. I'll definitely check out your story in a while.

I agree with you Shiriru, everybody has their own style. If you've got a story on here I'll write you some comments and give you some encouragement. You guys are the only reason I've continued the story :p

Haha nope its not here Aiden it is somewhere on the disc of my old PC plus it is in polish so if i would ever try improving it i must first translate it(i.e. find time for doing it) However you could checkout the Zombie poetry thread in this forum . Please feel free to put a comment there, be it a prise or a critic. I would mostly appreciate it.

Thanks for the cheering, guys

I'm not planning on giving up on my story, I just have hard time finding time for it, with all this damn homework I got... Ah well, winter break's coming up, so I suppose I'll have some time then.

And yeah, the poetry thread is pretty interesting! (Coming from a guy who is about as soulful as a brick)
There's a lot of good stuff there, even Shiriru put in a nice poem. And he tried to convince me that it wasn't any good... Oh well, I guess the tables have turned.

Another poem of mine will come

Month 1, Day 27, Dusk

Ford and I are resting at a gas station southeast of the pharmacy. My head is in agony. Pain pulsates throughout my entire upper body with each throb. No amount of massaging or home remedies have eased my suffering. Several times I have thought to kill myself just to make it stop. Ford tells me to stop complaining and keep moving, but I can't. I had to stop.

Note to self: grab more than one bottle of meds this time.

My companion just finished barricading remaining windows with furniture. Secured the doors myself with what little strength I have left. There is a roof hatch nearby that we can use if our sanctuary is compromised; I marked the ladder clearly with a can of spray-paint lying nearby. Think I'll take it with me to leave my own graffiti around the city.

On the way here Ford and I encountered several of the creatures. Dogs mostly. Lately I've noticed an odd increase in undead animals. Doesn't matter, they all consume ammunition. I'm down to seven rounds. Ford doesn't even own a firearm. She prefers to melee her target until nothing but a smelly pulp remains. I worry sometimes about the blood that inevitably leaps into her face and eyes, no matter how many times she tells me not to.

Note to self: keep a round chambered in case my companion tries to eat me.

There were a few boxes in the back of the station containing snack cakes. Hostess doesn't provide much nutrition, but I'll be damned if this isn't the tastiest meal I've had in a long time. The sugar may help with my headaches as well.

Current supplies:

1 rope, same
1 gallon of water
M24 Rifle, 7 Rounds Remaining
1 cans of corn
3 cans of peaches
7 cupcakes

Raiders looted all of the beverages. Water fountains haven't worked in weeks, no point in even trying. Somebody plugged a tub in the back and filled it with water before the plant shut down, but it appears they were killed and eaten in that room. Of course, the water was contaminated. The corpse is nowhere to be seen. We assume it is wandering around outside somewhere.

Used up what remained of my whet stone while sharpening my knife earlier.
Chances of me finding a replacement stone = not even going to try.

Ford brought up Canada again moments ago. I wasn't in the mood for it. Didn't mean to yell at her, but this pain has put me in a foul mood. I should apologize to her. Can't write any more, regardless. Pain is unbearable. Can't take much more.

New graffiti:

On front of barricaded pub,
"NO MORE ROOM KEEP MOVING"

Behind gas station,
an intricate mural was painted, depicting a battle between humans and zombies.

This is really awesome.

Keep up the writing!

Made me keep reading, this is awesome, PLEASE keep writing!

Month 1, Day 28, Night

Wasn't sure if I was ever going to be able to write in this journal again. Raiding the pharmacy was a horrible idea. Seems a group of hostile survivors has taken refuge inside the building and is selling off the meds at outrageous prices. They're accepting slaves as well as firearms and money, which is fueling what appears to be an underground enslavement ring.

Note to self: trade current outfit for darker, tighter clothing for added stealth.

As Ford and I approached the drugstore we were accosted by three men armed with tire irons and baseball bats. They demanded that we relinquish our weapons and follow them into the pharmacy. Ford threw a knife into the first one's kneecap as I fired a round into the second one's abdomen and we fled the parking lot intact, despite the guards nested atop the roof of the pharmacy taking aim at us.

You can actually feel bullets as they travel by your head, I discovered. I don't know if it was the shock-wave or the air breaking around the bullet, but I certainly felt something as the round whizzed past my face, missing me by mere inches. My companion was unscathed as well, fortunately, though she has been completely frenetic since our escape. Tried to calm her down once. My nose is still bleeding.

Note to self: avoid Ford when angered.

We have taken refuge inside of an office building roughly twenty minutes south-by-southwest of the pharmacy. Apparently there was a fire here long ago; the damage is preventing us from climbing higher than the third floor, so our view of the street in front of the building isn't exactly optimal. Doesn't matter. If we can't see them, they can't see us.

Counting the two rounds I used earlier to kill a fat zed and the round I killed the doorman with, I'm down to four rounds left in my M24. Not even a full clip. This isn't going to be enough to launch an assault on the building. Don't know how we're going to secure any meds. My headaches are still as prevalent as ever, though I seem to be acclimating to the pain.

Going to try speaking to Ford again.

---------------------

She doesn't have enough money for more food and ammunition. She thinks we should attempt to sneak into the facility and steal whatever we can carry. Normally I would disagree with her, but at this point I just don't care any more. If I die, I'll be free of this torment and pain. Won't have to deal with zeds any more. No more raiders. No more military.

Freedom.

Sounds pretty good, but so long as my will to live burns bright, I won't be able to allow myself to just collapse and give up. Ford won't let me either. She hasn't trusted anyone other than me since the outbreak. She needs me as much as I need her. I'm glad I bumped into her at the college campus. Without her I would probably charge the building, rifle blazing, and end up full of holes.

Ford is going to pick the lock on the backdoor. From there we will move quickly towards the roof, incapacitate the watchmen, then sneak around the complex in search of our desired merchandise. Once we are satisfied we will retreat to this building, gather ourselves, then begin our journey back towards the campus together. That's the plan so far, anyway.

Note to self: don't die.

Current supplies:

1 rope, same
2/3 gallon of water
M24 Rifle, 4 Rounds Remaining
1 can of peaches
2 cupcakes
1 can of spray-paint

Adrenaline: pumping.
Anxiety: climbing.
Hand: cramping. I'm done.

New graffiti entries:

Behind office building,
"Does this mean the war in Iraq is finished?"

Inside bathroom of pizza parlor,
"Daniel - no more food, have to move - meet back at 72nd st. in 2 days."

On front of antique store,
"NOTHING USEFUL HERE"

---------------------

(There you go guys. I tried a little harder with this one :3)

little harder

THIS IS GOLD M8!

True true are you plannig to involve the graffiti in the story somehow ? Like they discover it along the way and take the lead?

lol, double post ^^

Oh man, this is brilliant! Keep it up!

Month 1, Day 29, Late Afternoon

It takes all of my concentration to still the shaking in my hand so that I may write. I'm still having trouble believing we're all still alive, given this mornings events. We managed to stop the bleeding in Ford's leg long enough to transport her back here to the office building, but I can tell that isn't going to be enough to save her. If we don't make it back to the campus sometime within the next day or so, I can say with confidence that my companion will bleed to death.

Note to self: bring proper medical supplies with me on my next suicidal mission.

The plan was going smoothly at first. Before we embarked I discovered a body in the office building garbed in a charcoal-hued business suit. The fire charred the suit and darkened it further, making it perfect for our endeavor, so I swapped clothes with the cadaver and we set off. The sun was just beginning to light the sky, so we had plenty of time to move. Utilizing the shadows cast by the surrounding skyscrapers, we quickly scuttled around the back of the pharmacy.

Once there, Ford began to pick the lock on the door. Took longer than I would have liked. While she worked, I played the role of prairie dog, poking my head above the concrete border along the staircase and making sure the coast was clear. After what had to have been at least ten minutes or so, she forced the door open and pulled me inside. Door would have banged shut if I hadn't shoved my foot in between it and the frame. Hurt like hell, but I figured a sore foot was a healthy alternative to thirty angry men shooting at us.

The hallway was totally barren. No carts, posters, desks. Nothing. We remained still, listening for footsteps. Not hearing anything, we began to scour the building, moving stealthily from room to room in search of medicine. Well, I was looking for penicillin and ibuprofen. Ford was scavenging for...female necessities. I didn't inquire further.

Note to self: notify head of college campus about this place.

After two letdowns we discovered our third room. The door was locked, so Ford applied her trade once more. Shortly after we heard voices coming from the other side. She continued to pick while I placed my ear against the door, doing my best to eavesdrop. We had discovered the slave quarters, from what I understood. Several people were inside discussing alternatives to a life of servitude. One suggested suicide. Another hinted at an escape attempt.

That's when I heard that familiar 'click' and the door handle turned loosely in my hand. The voices in the room fell silent. I turned and looked at Ford and pressed my forefinger against my lips and she nodded understandingly. I opened the door and slipped inside, Ford following close behind, and I shut it just as quickly, yet quietly, as it had been breached, then proceeded to explain myself to the captives.

The room was crammed full of people. I counted roughly sixteen before concentrating instead on the woman in front of me. She's damn gorgeous. Her name is Amber. According to her, she was sifting through rubble with two friends near the eastern port when they were ambushed and captured. These slavers are complete ass holes. They have no regard for human life; they wish only to intentionally cause suffering in others and rake in a profit however possible.

Note to self: load up on ammunition, take up a defensive position in range of pharmacy, kill as many slavers as possible. (will have to explore possible sniping positions at a later date)

Despite a protest from Ford, I offered to lead the slaves to safety. Only Amber agreed. Seems the others had already been broken both mentally and physically before our arrival. With Amber in tow, Ford and I continued our crawl through the building. With directions from Amber we located a massive stash in the back of the pharmacy. It was completely loaded down with everything we could ever possibly want.

I grabbed eight bottles of ibuprofen and two bottles of penicillin while Amber and Ford filled their own pack. Would have grabbed more, but footsteps outside the room caught my ear. Noting the presence of at least two slavers, I ducked down behind the many crates with my two companions just as the burly men entered the room. They sat down nearby and both lit up a cigarette. Convenient time for a smoke break.

Note to self: locate and destroy all remaining cigarettes in this world.

Communicating through lipreading with Ford, we devised a plan of attack. I wanted to wait until they were finished, Ford was desperate to leave. I shouldn't have caved. Rather than remain hidden, we each picked a target and circled around the crates, planning to pounce simultaneously.

Of course, nothing happens the way it does in the movies. Ford jumped from her position nearly a full three seconds before I did. We just barely managed to cling onto the slavers backs and apply choke holds, but not before one of them yelled a brutish war-cry of sorts. We applied more and more pressure until our enemies were soundly asleep, then quickly bolted from the room with Amber right behind us. As we reached our intersecting hallway we came into the view of at least eight or nine slavers and they quickly gave chase. We sprinted full speed toward the backdoor and jumped out as gunfire and screams erupted behind us, alerting the men on the roof which we had forgotten to eliminate earlier.

As we made our way toward the alleyways leading back to our sanctuary, I heard a weird plop sound and pain exploded throughout my shoulder. Blood began seeping into my suit and I realized that I had been shot. Several more rounds flew past us before one sunk into the back of Ford's right leg, just above her knee. She fell just as we rounded a corner and Amber and I had to help her onward.

Now we are here, hiding and doing the best we can to bandage ourselves. The bullet that hit my back-left shoulder must have been from a low-caliber handgun. There is little damage, only a small hole, no bones were hit. It even went all the way through my body. Perhaps because I have lost so much weight? Amber has torn a fresh garment and used the strips to fashion a sling and gauze. We have wrapped Ford's leg and applied a tourniquet. Still, she has lost so much blood...I really hope she makes it.

Current supplies:

1 rope, same
1/4 gallon of water
M24 Rifle, 4 Rounds Remaining
1 cupcake
1 can of spray-paint
8 bottles of ibuprofen
2 bottles of penicillin

Note to self: tag nearby buildings with spray-paint; warn others of pharmacy.

I'm starting to feel very weak and dizzy. Nee to stop fo now. keep getin blood on papr. vision is strtin to ge blury, oh god my sholdr hurs so bad i cant stop brethng fas nee to sop writ

---------------------

(Thanks a lot for the comments you guys To answer your question Shiriru, yes I plan to make great use of that spray-can later on in the story. I've been planning ahead for a lot of things - Amber and Ford for instance. I had them created in my mind long before I introduced either of them lol. I've got a lot more in store as well, but I won't spoil the story just yet.)

(Also, I just want to take the time to apologize for the length of this entry. I've been trying to keep the length of these journal entries relatively short so that they can be easily read, but this entry contained so much information that I had to lengthen it considerably. To compensate, I separated the paragraphs as much as possible. Sorry again.)

You are a genius! (late response due to Firefox crash last time i was supposed to write and answer )

also, the paragraphs were Perfect size! Fully readable and awesome ^^

As usual, this is great.

Although I'm starting to think that you, Shiriru, me and CarlBreder are the only person who write and read stories here... O_o

Who cares ^^

we know its a pure awesome

I suppose that's good enough for me! ^~^

Posted by Zed Rayadon

Although I'm starting to think that you, Shiriru, me and CarlBreder are the only person who write and read stories here... O_o

I read them too, i also read your stories "Carpe Diem", but mostly everything is already said, and i don't want to post same feedback what others already did.

I once wrote a post but then i forget to send it (was tired, don't ask how i could forget sth like this... it was ~ midnight...) on the next day i just hit the send button ( i really seldom restart my PC, today was my first restart since new year - tons of updates needed to be installed)... but then i read the post of CarlBreder who sent it just ~1 minute after i hit the reply button, (was sth about that you should do more sections) then i deleted my post, so it existed only for nearly ~5 seconds.

 

and now, i do like your stories and Aidens too

I suppose that's good enough for me! ^~^

Zed!!! Take a deep breath count from ten to 1 and......STOP Beating yourself for your story!! i put it as clearly as possible YOUR STORY IS GOOD And i mean As good as Aiden it has different style which is GOOD. Is it really that bad that only 3 or 4 of us read the stories?(Not everyone likes zed poetry and literature maybe?)Well if yes than sorry but i will be reading it anyways To tell you the truth a friend of mine told me that my poems were crap but hell i tried to post them here and noone was hurt dont be mad at me but ill tell you one more thing.I dont think i could have such a good style in writing longer zombie fiction. but it was thanks to your feedback i wrote my poems. It may be a banal statement but as long as one person likes any piece of writing it is worth continuing(If only author likes it the effect might not be as good as expected) You told me that in Sweden not everyone likes zombie fiction it may be that way but you cant be sure.Rome was not built in one day or so they say .My point: Be glad even of a single reader man!!

So to sum up stop worrying and start feeding the audience with aditional chapters
.

You know what? You make a pretty good point.

Thanks for the support man, and yeah, you're right. As long as at least one person reads your story, it's worth continuing. And don't worry, I am glad of every single reader on the forum. Believe me, everytime I log in here, I shine up like the sun because of your nice comments and positive feedback. So I'll keep on writing, that's for sure.

PS. Will there be more poems from Shiriru the Poet?

THAT on the other hand, did not have enough paragraphs xD