Firsts and Reunions

January 31st, 2010, 9:18pm

It's been 97 days since my last entry. I can't tell you these winter storms have been easy; tree branches knocking on the windows, creating alertness in the cabin every moment it happens, howling winds which some of us swear are moans, ice cold floors and rooms, and shadows of previous unbelievable things. We've stocked up on blankets and anything else we could find to keep warm and gathered wood for fires. Our attention has mostly been focused on the children. They are our next generation; it's imperative they keep warm.

There are much too many stories to be told all at once. Some good, some terrifying. Or a terrifying story which ends well.

Our first snowfall happened on November 3oth, 10:00pm. Don't get me wrong, snow is good. It keeps...them away, or Zack, as my husband calls them. I've always been a big fan of snow...the cold, beautiful white layers of purity. To me it's a new beginning. The earth is being cleansed, preparing for a new year, a new life with new goals. However, being boarded up in the cabin to get away from man-eating brain-dead zombies isn't exactly what you'd call the exciting and adventurous start of things.

I found my husband, sitting in the entryway, his back against the wall. He had his eyes closed, a shotgun next to him on the floor. Just a little shuteye, I knew. My husband was always the heavy sleeper. The moment his head would hit the pillow he was out. I was the one who tossed and turned, sitting up every few minutes to stretch. Clearly, things have changed. I can see it in his once bright blue eyes; sleep was no longer his best friend. Months of playing guarding duty and protecting husband had caught up in his features. His face has experience now; the look of a survivor. He knew I was standing there.

"It's snowing." He told me, his eyes still closed. "We'll get through this night then begin preparing for the winter ahead." I watched him, nodding my head. It was quiet that night. The others were upstairs, probably asleep by now. "Go get warm in bed, I'll be there in a bit. Tomorrow we send out a team to investigate the nearby cabins. I love you."

I slept in that morning, completely unexpected. I was surprised to find myself so refreshed. I sat up in bed, hearing commotion and people, coming from the living room and kitchen. Arguing, for that matter.

"Listen, Baby, I'm going out there. We'll be back before the sun goes down. We have weapons, we'll be fine." I heard a man say.

"Just because you have weapons, doesn't mean you'll be fine!" I heard a female voice argue back. I heard crying in her voice.

I stepped out of bed, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. The heater rattled on the wall, and I immediately switched it off. It was day now, no need. I didn't know how much longer it was going to last anyway. I was upstairs, on the fourth level. The room with the door on the second floor was given to Laura, her husband John, and their little girl, Anna. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. It was my husband.

"What's going on?" I asked. "I hear arguing."

"We're leaving in twenty minutes," he told me. "It's Elana. She doesn't want Brayden to leave. You're not going to try and talk me out of this, are you? Those two are driving me crazy. They've been arguing since sunrise." I studied him for a moment. "No," I said, "But I will tell you to please be careful. Please."

I helped zipped up his jacket, then a coat on top of that. "I might as well teach the girl how to aim a gun while you're gone; this way she can be of some help." I looked up into his blues. We had already exchanged some sort of goodbye last night, while in bed. He was always a different man in that way, but a man nonetheless. Although this wasn't goodbye. It was a "see you soon."

Twenty minutes later, the three men left. Elana sat crying on the sofa. I've never been good with people. I was nervous just thinking about approaching her. Luckily, Laura beat me to it. Although relieved, I felt a small hint of jealousy. Laura's always good with people, and even better with words. In her mid-thirties, she was elegant. Although she didn't exactly hold you and stroke your hair, she always knew the right thing to say. Instead, I found Anna sitting next to the fire, staring off into it. The 8-year old girl seemed more tired these days than enthusiastic. I sat with her and stared off into the fire myself.

The idea of heavy snow terrified me at this point. I had heard nothing from my family. They hadn't been here yet. What's worse, is their home is an hour away. Just an hour, downhill. Gary's family was a different story. They were two hours away. He was only able to get in a short phone call before we left for the cabin. He told them where we were headed, I love yous were exchanged, then nothing.

I took Elana outside anyway to practice, to teach her how to at least use the darn weapons. No, they weren't even loaded; we had to save ammo. However, I always kept a loaded pistol on my waist, just in case. She was 18, her Brayden 19. Gary and I are near the same age; me being 24, him 25. Elana said Brayden was a high school sweetheart. They had met at a dance. All it took were many nights of sneaking out and getting into trouble to draw them together, she said. She ran away from home the moment she was 18 after fighting with her parents about Brayden. They hated him, she said. They were too protective. While unable to admit regret for leaving her parents, I could see the pain in her eyes when she spoke of them. All she was able to stumble out of her lips was "infected". I had decided at that point to turn the subject on her future plans with Brayden. This kept her occupied. Mostly.

We heard the first moan. Instinctively, I grabbed the loaded pistol I had kept on me. Then handed it to Elana. A look of shook swept across her face, and she shook her head. "You have to learn sometime, Elana. You need to do this." Elana looked paralyzed with fear.

"But Bray always did this. I can't. What if he's out there? I need to save him." she said, clear panic rising in her voice. Before I could give her any words, she let out a horrified scream, her shaky finger pointing to the female Zack about 70 feet in front of us. I quickly muffled her scream by throwing my hand over her mouth. "That's enough!" I ordered silently. "Do you want to get us killed?" Elana choked back a sob. "Now, shoot her in the head. We've practiced this. Line up your crosshairs."

Elana shook her head again, yet at the same time, held the gun up, her hands shaking. "We don't have time to waste, do it now." I ordered her again. "Now!" The first shot rang out as Elana pulled the trigger. She missed, however, lowering the gun. "I can't..." she sobbed. The Zack drew nearer, moaning even louder. "You can, Elana. Imagine how proud of you Bray would be." I consoled. This time Elana nodded her head and raised the gun again. She took a deep breath, like we had practiced, and fired again. The bullet released ripped through the female Zack's head, and she collapsed to the ground. We both stood still even then, listening intently for more. Footsteps were heard this time, yet we remained still. Elana still had the gun raised. A figure soon appeared, and startled, Elana fired again.

"Whoa!" a voice cried out. Elana screamed, dropping the gun. It clattered loudly on the wooden deck. Bray's face became more clear as he approached nearer. He stopped at the headless female Zack, then glanced back up at Elana. "Did you do this?" he asked. Elana let out a sob, nodding her head. "That was a wicked awesome shot." he said again. Elana made her way to him and he embraced her, whispering words into her ear I was too far away to hear. My attention fell to Gary and John, who weren't far behind Bray.

"We heard a scream and gun fire," John began, "we hurried over here. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." I said. "Elana killed her first. Right through the head." The two men also stopped to notice the dead female Zack lying in the leaves. I noticed quickly both men had their guns drawn, just to be safe.

"Our next goal is to create weapons that don't make such a loud noise. Guns are ridiculous to use in this situation." Gary said. He was right. Guns were nice to keep with us, but they were too loud. We had to find a new way to kill these Zack.

Two weeks had passed since the incident. Elana's night terrors and crying had finally calmed down since killing her first Zack. We all had been there, even now don't know if we can ever completely heal. A Zack was once a person, and pulling a trigger to kill such a thing often feels like murder itself.

December 15th had approached. We had all been sitting around the fire around noon, eating our lunches, when we heard the doorknob to the front door being fidgeted with. All three men drew their guns, ordering us women to stay back. Cute, but wasn't going to happen. I also had drawn my gun. We listened silently until the door clicked open, a figure appearing.

"Dad!" I cried out. The men lowered their guns as I rushed to him, hugging him tightly. My dad had also lowered his gun, putting it away as he hugged me back. My mom too was behind him, as well as my younger sister, younger brother, and older brother with his wife and two boys. While I was happy to see most of my family, an aching in my heart took place when I glanced back at Gary. His dad was sick with cancer before the breakout, his mother refusing to leave his side. Gary knew they weren't going to show up. He did look relieved, though, and shook my dad's hand, inviting everyone in. Introductions were exchanged, before we sat down to hear their story.

I must go now. There will be much updating later.

Visitors

Day 7
7:41am

It's been a week since beginning this journal. It's early now, and I have been rested. I wouldn't say exactly well rested, but rested enough. A mother and a child are are still asleep; the men awake.

The little girl was fortunate to have slept through last night. How wonderful it must be to be so young and unafraid, unaware of what tragedies and dangers are mapped around us.

It had been 2am. I was awaken out of my slumber; it seems nowadays every small movement sends my body into alert mode. Just the small sounds outside, coming from downstairs. Now, my family's cabin is made up of four levels; the first being a small kitchen and living space, the entry way holding a washer and dryer, the second level holding two bedrooms, only one with a door, the door-less one with a balcony, and the third and fourth levels, open spaces with beds. It was built by my grandfather in the 1980's, and became a wonderful place for guests and company who wanted to spend time outdoors. However, the days now are different from the past. Finding enough food to feed twenty something people, and being able to trust these people are different stories.

This particular night, we had unwelcome guests. I had quickly tapped my husband on the shoulder, and he, like me, was instantly in alert mode himself, his hand gripping the gun next to him. Without a word, he crawled out of bed and headed for the door (us, being on the second level with the bedroom and the door). He motioned for me to stay back, and I found myself already armed with the Featherlight Model 37 Ithaca shotgun, a gift from my father just weeks before the outbreak. Slowly turning the nob, my husband pushed open the door. I saw him instantly throw up his gun and aim, aim at a being. A whisper was exchanged, and he lowered his gun; it was the child's father, who had also heard the sounds; he had been armed himself. I stood prepared, in the bedroom.

The two men, working together, headed down the 5 steps into the kitchen and living area, each with their backs against a wall. After this, I couldn't see much else. Time stood still as I stood silently, waiting for something. When it seemed like forever, I heard gunfire being exchanged. I moved quickly at this point, toward the cracked door. With my gun in my clutches, I peered through. I hadn't seen anything. It seemed like an eternity as I stood there. Only ruffling sounds were heard, until I heard footsteps, heading for the bedroom. I was aiming now, ready to fire if necessary.

"Scarecrow," I heard a familiar voice say. I lowered my gun. It was our safe word; my husband slightly pushed the door open, his hand to his shoulder. He had been shot. I drew a breath, and I knew he could see the worried expression on my face, even in the semi-dark.

"What..." I began, but was quickly interrupted. "I'm okay, nothing but a flesh wound. We had bandits, two men. We had no choice, they were firing at us." I gave a silent nod, and understood quickly what he had been referring to. "We checked out the rest of the area, no sign of anybody else."

I turned on the light to the bedroom now, my husband sitting on the bed. "Is everyone else okay?" I asked, my voice quivering just a little. "Everyone else is fine," he promised. The mother had been awake, but had refused to leave her sleeping child alone. I didn't ask any more questions.

I helped my husband pull off his shirt to reveal his wound on his upper arm. "First aid's in the kitchen."

We headed to the kitchen, turning on the lights. I had expected to see two bodies on the floor, but I saw nothing. As if reading my thoughts, my husband answered, "It's been taken care of." Again, I gave a silent nod, examining his wound.

"I'm a nurse," I heard a woman's voice say, and turned to see the mother, Laura, coming into the kitchen. She was small, petite, unlike me; I've always been on the taller side. Her dark curls and olive skin highlighted from the beaming lights in the kitchen. I stepped aside. "The bullet only grazed him, he'll be fine." She assured, touching his arm. "We just need to disinfect and bandage this up to keep out infection. You were lucky it wasn't worse." Her voice was strong, yet warm.

I must go now, everyone seems to be waking. Breakfast needs to be started as well. Gary will keep you up to date with what happened at the food distribution center when he gets the chance.

New Beginnings

She's sleeping now, and my guard shift is over. As I see some of our new companions huddled together next to the fireplace, it reminds me how lucky we are. Perhaps I should go see my wife, but right now I need to collect my thoughts. It's been a full day since I went to get supplies. Of course there were zombies there, but that wasn't the worst. Zombies are predictable. You know exactly what they want they want and how they're going to try to get it. You can use the same tactic to outsmart, outrun, or kill any zombie. No, the zombies, I can prepare for. It's the uninfected that frighten me.

I traveled to a nearby food distribution center to get some canned goods. Of course there were zack. Zack, a word I started using for them. I was never a soldier, but I played a lot of war games. The army used to call Germans Gerry, or was it Jerry? They never spelled it out. That wasn't important. If I started acting the way I thought a soldier would, maybe I could convince myself I was one.

I was on foot. I didn't know how many would be there, and needed to be able to run. In the panic, many took to their cars. All it did was cause traffic jams and turn poor souls into canned food. Whatever roads weren't blocked or zack-infested were watched by thieves.

I had a small cargo trailer to hold whatever I could get. I didn't want to get attention. People were hungry and they were scared, their basic needs and personal safety were handled either by or through the government. That government has been disconnected for a week and we've already lost hundreds of years of civilization. I patted the handgun at my hip; my insurance against the mobs - be they human or not. I also tightly gripped my spade-like shovel. Yes, my trusty shovel, that never jammed and never needed reloading.

I couldn't see any crowds as I approached, pulling the trailer by hand. That was good. People mean chaos. People and chaos bring zack.

The place had been ransacked, but what was left was enough for now. Canned cheese, canned meat, rice, wheat, peanut butter. It didn't look appetizing, but it would last. With a trailer full, I could feed the two of us for a year. All I had to do make it to the car and I'd be home free.

As I walked out, I saw him. Couldn't have been more than 20, looked like he hadn't eaten much. I didn't know what he wanted, but I knew he was holding a knife, and looking at me like he wanted something. For a moment, we just stood at each other, waiting for a move.

"You're going to give me that trailer. Now."
"There's more inside. You don't need this stuff."
"He's lying." A voice came behind me. I turned quickly to see a man, maybe 40, with a woman and little girl in tow, running toward me. His face looked worried. I drew my gun, pointing back and forth. The man stopped. He put his arms out, to protect what was obviously his wife and daughter. They both let out a frantic gasp, frozen.

"Let's all calm down", the man said. "I don't want any more violence. I just want some food."
"Just give me the trailer and we all get to walk away!" The kid was raising his voice, trying to look tough. It was stupid. It was going to get us noticed.

"Look, son. Nobody needs to get hurt. There's more than enough food for each of us." The older man didn't seem like he knew the kid. We were likely three people who had the same idea. I just got there a little sooner.

"No." The kid yelled. "That's enough for me to hide out without going hungry." He was frantic at this point, sweating. "I don't want to hurt anybody, but I'm not taking any chances for you, or you!" He turned to the man, waving his knife around. Then he turned back at me.

"You think your tough with your gun? You can't get us all!" He was being too loud. I was taking too much time. This wasn't going to end well. I would have just let it go, but he had a point. You give up food now, and you don't know when you'll get more. I needed this to end.

"Look, we all want this food, right? We also want to be safe, right? I have a place holed up where we can hide this out. We can all work together to be safe, and we can all share the food."

"Bull! You're just going to take us somewhere to kill us!" The kid didn't share the enthusiasm the family did.

"If you'd prefer, I could kill you now." I was through wasting time. His chest was in my cross hairs. Time stood still as we locked eyes. Nothing else existed, not the food, not the woman's pleas for peace. Then, we heard it. The only thing to bring us all back to reality. The thing that reminded us why we were all doing what we were doing. We heard one moan.

Despite popular belief, zombies aren't superhuman. Their hearing, smell, are no better than ours. Depending on their stage of decomposition, they may even be worse. Most of their advanced functions are gone too. But when zack senses you, he always lets out a loud moan. I don't know why, but they always do it without fail. Maybe it's their attempt to talk to you. Maybe it's what's left of their humanity telling you to get away from the demon they can no longer control. A zombie moaning sends chills through you, especially when you realize that every zack who hears it will come to investigate. Within minutes, all zack nearby will be here or coming here. There's no way I'm getting home safe.

I turned around and pointed at the distribution center. "Run inside, we're dead out here!" The father nodded his head at me and his family began running for the door. I turned back to my trailer so I could keep my treasure. All I saw was a blur as the idiot kid tackled me to the floor.

There's more to this story, but I've told enough for one night. I'll likely be able to tell more later, when I'd have more time to make sense of it all. But right now, I'm going to give Em a big kiss and tell her how glad I am to have her.

Day 3

1:49pm

Our supply is getting low. My husband left this morning to a distribution center down the road, and has yet to return. I can't begin to explain the worry piling inside my mind. I'm here, alone, in the cabin. It was best to leave somebody here to guard, to watch for other survivors, to protect what's ours if needed. I'll admit, I'm nervous to use the guns again. Yes, again. And I'm not talking about shooting ranges, either. Well, I suppose you can call it that.

As we headed out the door Monday, I continued to try and make phone calls. I reached my parents house. My mother was fine. My family was fine. They had a scare and the phones were disconnected. I almost cried the moment I heard their voices. But now it's been days, and we've heard nothing. If they haven't made it to the cabin, where are they? Nevermind, I'd rather not worry about too many things at once...the fear of my husband missing is grasping a hold on me enough already.

We knew where we were headed on Monday. We didn't have time to make stops. We avoided the hospitals, we avoided the banks. My husband had told me to make a list of the top ten places that seemed reasonable to go during a disaster. He then said we'll go to none of them. It made sense. We did have to make a stop, however. Not at our will, either. We were on our way to my family's cabin in the mountains, where we are now; and needed to get there quickly. As we traveled down the road, a tree branch, huge in stature, collapsed in front of us. I covered my eyes and screamed, my husband hitting the brakes.

My husband's shouting caused my eyes to fly open. We were in the road, stopped. I was half-expecting we'd be in a ditch or at least a bit smashed into the tree branch. Unfortunately, this was worse. "The gun!" He shouted, "Grab the gun!" My hands shaking again, and without thought, I grabbed the loaded shotgun. My glance toward him showed me he was already armed with the Glock. "Honey, you'll have to fire. I don't want to you think about anything else right now". I peered out the window, and froze, only for a second before my husband's words of encouragement got me back on track. From my direction, two of them were headed our way. No, four of them. These were people. Okay, so they were zombie people, but they were once people, like you and I. My husband's foot was on the gas, trying to reverse the car. The car wasn't very thrilled to do so, however. We had run over a chunk of the branch, keeping us from moving. "You'll have to shoot them. Aim for the head. Don't be afraid, they're trying to kill us."

I rolled the window down, only so far. "Now!" My husband shouted again. The first shot startled me, blinded me, and caused my ears to ring in desperation. It was a chest shot to one of them. It only caused him to twitch. I pumped the shot gun, took a deep breath this time, aimed, and fired again. My shoulder ached from the recoil, as the shot hit another in the head, this time causing it to collapse. "You're doing great, honey, don't stop," my husband said, as he continued working to reverse the car. I had always imagined zombies would be much slower than this. A loud moan escaped the voice of a female, then followed by the other two. I loaded another into the chamber, and squeezed the trigger again, watching another take it in the head and collapse. Two more. Their moans disturbed me.

My body wouldn't stop shaking, and I believed the gun would fall from my grasp. They were only getting closer.

Another shot. In the neck this time, the female. She fell to the ground, but it didn't kill her. She began making her way up. I pumped the shotgun, but I wasn't quick enough. The other one was too close. He grabbed the barrel, and I screamed, squeezing the trigger once again. This blew off his hand completely, yet it didn't stop him. He moaned loudly.

Instantly, I felt my head being slammed down and I heard another shot, but not my own. "Stay down!" My husband shouted as he continued to hold my head down, strongly. I heard him fire another round, quickly.

I was crying now, my whole body convulsing with tremors. "It's done." I heard his voice say. "I got them. You did a great job. You saved us," he told me. "Don't give up now. Stay on the lookout." With that, he pumped the gas one more time, and I felt the car slightly lift, and fall back down as we reversed our way over the branch. "Know any detours?"

I must go now, my husband has returned. Thank goodness.

Day 1

10:01 PM

Never in my life did I imagine something like this would happen. It feels as though the horror stories you see in movies and television merely sucked you right into the dark part of their world and imagination. Only, this is much worse. We've been barricaded up here for 3 days now. Our food supply isn't what we had hoped for. Less than a mile downhill is the little convenient store, but I'm not certain what's been going on there. Chaos, murder, simply an area you'd be smart enough to stay away from for now.

There's only 2 of us. My husband and I were able to make it here to my family cabin. But what of the rest of my family? Terrified thoughts control my mind when I even begin to think of my family. Where are they? Are they alive? Will they make it to the cabin?

I thought it was a joke Monday afternoon. Life had been just like any other day. Although the man on the news had announced what had been happening, I didn't believe it. In fact, I ignored it and flipped the channel. That didn't help much, for it was all over the television. All I could gather up in mind at the moment was to sit down on the edge of the couch and watch. And listen. I shook my head and reached for the phone. The ringing startled me, for I didn't expect a call at that instant.

"Are you safe?" Was the question I heard. "Are you safe?" I heard my mom's voice ask again, realizing I hadn't answered yet. "Y..yes, I'm safe. Are you?" I asked back. "Get to safety, Emilee. Please, get to safety. It's real..."yet at this moment, all I could do was listen as I heard screaming and chaos in the background, followed by a disconnection. My instinct was to dial back, my hands trembling, my heart pounding, my head spinning. No answer. The phone slipped from my hand, and I headed for the closet. Pulling out my blue backpack, I knew there were only so many things I could carry with me. If only I had read that ridiculous Zombie Survival Guide; of course, it didn't seem too ridiculous at this point.

I headed to the bedroom, pressing the combination to the gun safe, cursing to myself when my trembling hands couldn't get it right the first two tries. Finally it clicked open and I grabbed the Glock and loaded it up. The ammo came next, and I piled it into the backpack. I felt tears burn my eyes, and I mumbled to myself once again. My heart was ready to burst out of my chest. Was my family okay? I quickly went to the bedroom closet, loading up the shotgun ammo. Grabbing the machete came next, and I put it in the backpack. The 2 shotguns were slung over my shoulder. I turned around, feeling my body hit another. A scream managed to escape and I reached for the Glock.

"It's me!" I heard, and looked up to see my husband. A sob escaped at this point, and I hugged him. He took the Glock from my hands, as well as the backpack. "Everything's fine. We need to keep moving" He told me, and all I could do was nod my head. "Take another backpack and grab everything canned we have. Canned vegetables, whatever. Boxes of food, tape, toilet paper. We need to load up what we can fit in here. You can do this."

And I did.

I would continue on for now, but it's time I go. It's dark, and late. There are too many other things which need to be done.