About Fossphur Franklin
I'm Fossphur - I'd been wandering aimlessly in Malton for a couple of weeks when I stumbled across some friendly faces in Owsleybank. I decided to stay and try and help build some defences rather than running from zombies any longer. I was particularly impressed by the effective alliance between DHPD and INO and thought we really had a chance. The hospitals were powered and friendly, the church was full of healers, and the mobile phone tower was functioning. We had two working revive points. We even had our own radio station.
Then the hordes came from the south. Now many people I know and care for are dead, and all our hard work has been torn to the ground. The DHPD were forced to retreat since Dunell Hills was also under attack. We lost our leader. All of our active personnel were killed.
Just when we thought it couldn't get any worse, a few of us managed to regroup. We've drawn up our plans and we're ready to put them into action.
It's time to take Owsleybank back.
Sunday 9th April
Dear Diary, Today I went to meet the other guys who volunteered to help out with all the chaos thats going on in Malton these days. But noone else showed up. When I tried to get back home I noticed some weird looking guys were following me. When the smell caught up with me, I realised they were zombies! Jeebus, this suburb used to be safe. Everything is going to hell around here. I decided to head home, grab the cat, throw some clothes in a bag and head back to mum's place. I got to the end of my street and I could see I'd possibly left it too late. A crowd of zombies were milling around at the other end of the street. Windows were broken and I could see smoke coming from somewhere. I ducked down the back alley and managed to grab what I needed but I could see I was cut off from a safe path to my parents. For now I've holed up in a warehouse. The power seems to be off in this part of town. I'm worried about my mum - I haven't been able to get any signal on my cell phone so I can't check on her.
I'll write more when I have some time.
Sunday 16th July
There were so many of us. I mean, them. Surging through the streets. I stumbled blindly until I saw the iron fence of a cemetery, then I stopped there, swaying, not sure what to do next. After some time passed - I don't know how long - a man dashed past me. I barely felt the sting of the syringe, barely noticed the ground looming closer as my legs buckled beneath me. I lay on the grass staring at an old broken tombstone while the feeling came back into my body. My mind grasped at the memory of the man's face. I might have known him once, before everything went to hell, but I couldn't put a name to him. I staggered to the road, heading to a nearby hotel while other people, zombies, loitered around the cemetery unknowing and unheeding. One of the zombies was wearing a jacket, a brown leather jacket that I realised that I had seen before. It was Mark, a guy I used to know, years ago. Fumbling in my pockets I grabbed a handful of syringes - four left. Mark didn't deserve to be left out here in the street, where anyone could chew on him. I thrust the syringe into him, watched as he slumped and fell to the pavement, as though dead. I worried that I had used the syringe wrong but then I saw a score of zombies marching towards me so I left him and ran. Further down the street I saw a well defended factory so I scaled the barricade and threw myself in through a window.
I slept. About half an hour ago I was awoken by a scraping sound from outside. I could see through the broken window that someone was dragging away part of the barricade. About a dozen exhausted people were sleeping in the factory, and I have left them there, without a word of warning, in hope that the zombies will take them and spare me. I have no pity for these strangers. Noone was on watch, and almost all the barricade was gone before I noticed. My loyalty lies with Owsleybank and those I have left there. For them, I must survive. I climbed to the roof of the factory and took my bearings. The night was dark but the moon was bright enough to see that most of the surrounding buildings were overrun, barricades smashed, doors hanging from hinges. A few blocks away things looked better so I hurried across the rooftops until I got to the railway. Sturdy looking barricades - very inviting. I'm going to sleep here tonight and I hope the people here are more wary than the last lot. I don't relish the idea of being eaten in my sleep. Again.
Monday 17th July
I'm terrified. We ran back to Owsleybank after the zombies started attacking the Railway Station. I was exhausted by the time we got there and we passed so many zombies on the way that I was afraid some of them might follow our scent. It seems my worst fears have been realised, I can hear movement outside. Me and Mark split up, the idea being that we'd be less detectable if we weren't together. But now Mark's not answering his phone, and I'm worried that he was taken in his sleep. I'm cowering here in the dark, hoping they can't smell how wounded I am, hoping they can't hear me. I haven't seen anyone else in Owsleybank - not even a recognisable zombie. Maybe they are taking refuge in Dunell Hills. If I survive the night I will look for them there.
|And here is the rest|