Journal:Guy Montague

Journal Entries

11/20/2005

Today was a pretty good day too, but heavy on the ammo. Protecting malls is an interesting part-time job; personally, I still prefer firefighting. It's weird though--zombies keep congregating around these places. I thought they were nothing but dead gray matter and rotted flesh? It's almost as if they're consciously making their way there, or something...

At any rate, I stepped out onto the streets today and dropped four zombies. Two of them looked pretty torn up, and one was wearing a flak jacket. I knew that was going to be annoying, but, y'know, I didn't want to get close enough to take it off of him, so I just opened fire anyway. He'll have a headache tomorrow, heh heh heh.

11/18/2005

Today was a pretty good day. After being told of a breached safehouse by a medic friend of mine, I rushed to the rescue. The barricades had been breached, the doors flung wide open. A lone zombie stood contemplating which human to feast upon.

The swift clack-clack sounded as I chambered a shell in my shotgun, and I squeezed the trigger, the first shot blasting a hole clean through the creature's chest. It was nearly dead, and I was enjoying myself, so I decided to finish it off in style. I whipped out my fire axe and planted it squarely into the zombie's forehead on the first swing. The creature fell to the floor. I smiled.

I shoved all the corpses out the doors, locking them behind me. I rebuilt the barricades and dashed up to the nearby mall for some more ammunition. While I have plenty of pistol clips, I'm running a bit low on shotgun shells. Fortunately, I've re-learned how to shoot after my zombie ordeal. The mall itself was surprisingly empty. The doors were open, but I was getting tired after my day's exertions and didn't feel like looking outside to find out why. I shut the place up as tight as I could and headed back to my safehouse. I thought perhaps that I should have dropped by the other safehouse again to speak with the sleeping survivors there and do some shameless self-promotion, but I reconsidered. If those people can sleep through the sound of a shotgun blast, they need their rest.

Early November

East Becktown was starting to feel like home, but I've had to make a slight detour. Ammunition is starting to run low in this part of town, and, judging from the fires, there's a horde of zombies slowly moving this way. I guess that technically Dakerstown should feel like home, but then again, I believe I was killed there, so, y'know... I hate to leave PLEB one person short, but I need some ammo. I've heard about a mall with some fancy gun shops not too far from here. I figure I'll go check it out and come back once I'm well-armed enough. Besides, it's not as if I've officially joined them or anything.

Sometime in late October/early November

I really need to thank those PLEB folks one of these days. I hacked apart a couple of the living dead on my first day in this town, but I don't recall much after that. I think that perhaps I was killed as I slept. I wandered around as the undead for a while until some kind PLEB soul revived me, and I found myself standing on Dinmead Lane. My time as a shambling corpse seems to have dulled my skills, so I hooked up with some survivors in the neighborhood. I worked on my axe arm a bit and spent a few days taking potshots at zombies with a pistol I found. My coordination is coming back, slowly...