Journal: Jack Ival Trades

Journal

December 12, 2008 First Day

I snuck past the border just the other day; I know it was against all regulations and stupid to boot, but I couldn’t just stand on the border and watch the zombies roam around, feasting on these poor survivors. I felt I had to do something; would have brought some of the heavier equipment to help, too, but I managed to drop my M16 making it over the wall. Damn!

Either way, been roaming around, trying to keep myself from panicking. Managed to wander into a whole den of zombies – I fired a few shots at them in panic, before running off. Should have conserved ammunition, but I reacted without thinking. I thought I was better than that, but I really am a rookie.

Tried to find some shelter, managed to find a place well barricaded that I could pass through, at the Haydon Auto Repair. Too tired to do anything. Gotta sleep.

Well, I thought it was safe here… I was refreshed to see six other citizens in here, some seeming well armed, and the barricade looked strong and tough. But some guy breezed through here, some guy called Jimbo. He made us out to be wet behind the ears, and said that it was going to get ugly tonight; but the Tarasius Hospital and Hopping Road Police Department should be good barriers, for those that aren’t gifted in climbing through windows. “Free Running” it’s called, apparently, as it makes it easier to travel from one place to another – I’ve seen them before, while manning the towers at the border. They know where they’re going, that’s for sure.

He mentioned how Dickin and Dyer Park are “Rev points” – not sure what that means.

I asked around a bit, and apparently, there are ways for Necrotech scientists to make a zombie human again, called revivification (so, rev points, for those that really need it). Damn, this makes me feel bad for shooting up those zombies I ran into.

Either way, Jimbo left behind a big jug of moonshine. Stuff smelled rancid and had a strange tint, so I left it alone. I really don’t like this place. Why did I have to try to play hero? These guys obviously know far more than I do. Well, I’m not going to make a move unless I have to. This place is warm and has some good potential for scrounging, so it's a good place to rest for now.

Did some scrounging. Found some good gear; a crowbar, a fuel can, a bottle of beer, and a toolbox. Not fully sure how to use them; from what the others tell me, the fuel can can be used to refill the generator sitting in this room (apparently all electricity is dependent on portable fuel-powered generators), and can also be used as an improvised weapon, especially potent when used with a flare gun. Fun stuff. Also found a pair of steel-toed boots; watch out, any zombie I try to kick! Otherwise, I’m not sure all the ways to use what I got; though I know the crowbar is definitely useful, if I need to break past a barrier to get to safety. I hear someone outside, tearing at the boards. I hope the barrier lasts a while. I’m still going to try to get some sleep – I’m sure the others here know how to survive better than I do, and know what to do.

Apparently, this place isn’t safe at all. A zombie came in and tore down the boards! It was a lone zombie, a single shambling corpse, I thought it would have made little difference… but then he went about the building, opening every single door before him! Something I did not even think possible! Apparently, some zombies are able to retain memories from life, and know how to go about making it easier for other zombies to enter into a facility – this place wasn’t safe at all!

I spent the rest of my ammo in panic, firing at the zombie, but with little noticeable effect. The corpse was tough! I then broke the bottle of beer over his head, and tried to kick at the thing with my new boots, but to no avail. I’ve decided to get the hell out of here. I scrounged up a map real quick to the nearby Hopping Road Police Department. I’ll make my way soon.

Well, my trip was more or less uneventful, though I barely made it through the door before I collapsed. There were 8 corpses lying in front of this place – I couldn’t tell if they were undead made dead again, or failed survivors. Well, either way, here I am. Place gives me the creeps, just like the auto center; only here, they decorate the place with four skulls instead of ten, animal skeletons with a human one (!), and a stuffed tiger head. Feel like I entered a hunting lodge, not a police department; gives me the creeps. Even the survivors seem half crazed, given their decorations. Place is packed, too; I counted around 65 survivors, and more are coming in through the door. This place seems as safe as you can get without mounting machine guns.

After yawning and doing some searching (didn’t scrounge anything yet, but there’s always tomorrow), I dug up some clothing. Getting cold in here – no energy is really spent on heating, so I donned a police jacket and a long-sleeved shirt. I feel like the law in this place, although I certainly don’t know a thing about laying it down. Don’t know why I’m wearing safety goggles from the auto place; in case a zombie goes for my eyes? Meh, never pretended I was smart. I traded the goggles for a black balaclava – I’ve always wanted one, to be honest. Makes me feel like I’m part of the Special Weapons and Tactics. Would be nice if I had a better weapon with some ammo, though…

Been doing some thinking. I’m here to stay. I can’t get out past the borders… I may end up spending the rest of my life in this town, if I don’t die or this place isn’t wiped off the map. Someday it might all go zombie, or the military might decide to make a great big irradiated hole in the ground to clean up.

Stuck here. For all my life. Why’d I do this? Why’d I go over? Meh, gotta think less, search more.

Doing some searching. Found a flak jacket, a shotgun shell, and a radio. Glad I found this police department – still wondering where they kept the guns. The armory’s been picked almost clean, too many survivors coming in and out.

That’s it for this first entry. I’m going to try to organize my journal some more, especially if it can help other survivors, but no promises; I’m busy trying to survive in this place, after all. Not much free time to scribble into my journal.

December 22, 2008

(Writing is barely legible, the page spattered in blood)

Blood been shot why? what did he want?

need assistance think Im going to die

come back as zombie?

why shoot?