Foreward

I just found this empty journal in an old footlocker, so now, it's mine. Contained in here is the history of, well, my new life. My li - imprisonment inside Malton. For anyone who wants to read it...

Feel free to sign the Visitor's Page!

Current Location:

~~Penny Heights~~ ~~Dentonside~~ ~~Paynterton~~ ~~Dulston~~ ~~Santlerville~~ ~~Shearbank~~ ~~Gatcombeton~~ ~~Havercroft~~ ~~Shore Hills~~

Penny Heights

Zombies Killed:

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Survivors Revived:

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Entries

November, 2010

Week of the 28th

Note: this entry contains a few of the days before the 28th.

I woke up with a start, and immediately collapsed again onto my back. I was in some sort of cot, the huge bump on my head was throbbing painfully, and my vision was very blurry. After rubbing my eyes and whatnot, I felt around in the darkness to gather information about my immediate surroundings. The sound of quiet voices quickly came to my attention. I moved towards them, and felt the handle of a door. I opened it slowly, and was immediately blinded by light. As my eyes adjusted, I began to make out various shapes and objects. A large sign, barely hanging on to the wall by one nail, read: "Langsford Drive Fire Station". There were a number of other people in the empty main space, most of them asleep. As I stepped out into the light and stretched, another one of the individuals who was sitting next to a radio glanced over at me.

"Oh, look, you finally woke up. Welcome to hell dude." I looked back at him. The man had not showered in weeks from the looks of it; and as I looked around more, neither had any of the other people in here. A portable generator was up and running in the corner, and the wall was covered in with a large, spray-painted message: "Cades at VSB+2, per PHBP". I looked back at the man, confused, and full of questions.

"Where am I? Why is there a generator running? Shouldn't we be connected to the main grid? And why is the front door almost entirely blocked off?" The man looked back and chuckled lightly.

"Boy, you really don't remember anything, do you. Go upstairs, take a look out the window." I turned and clambered up the ladder. I rounded the corner and froze as I looked out the window. Through the curtain of grey rain, I could see the wasteland that used to be a city. The old man called to me from the main floor.

"Welcome to Malton. We're in the Penny Heights neighborhood right now, at the Langsford Drive Fire Station. I'm guessing you don't remember what happened? You arrived here via helicopter last week - we saw you guys drop in. I think you were going to retake one of the NecroTech Buildings or something. Whatever the plan was, doesn't matter now. We saw an emergency flare launched 2 hours later. By the time we had gathered enough people to get over there...everybody was gone. We found you under some rubble, with that massive bump on your head. We dragged you back here quick-like, because they were feeding very close by." I looked back out the window. There was a man in a ragged fireman's outfit shuffling down the street. Something about him looked...odd. I called down to the man.

"There's somebody outside! We should help them!" The man laughed.

"Hold your horses big guy. Is he shuffling around like an idiot?"

"Yeah..." I replied.

"Then he's dead. One of them. One of those things that feasted on your crew."

"What...are they?"

"Zombies. You were wondering why the door was barricaded? Yeah. The whole city is gone man. The military have us all quarantined here. No one comes, no one goes. We are left to fate. If we don't fight, we'll die, or worse...get turned into one of them." He turned back to the radio. I looked out across the street. There were two hospitals, each with lights on inside. Few buildings with lights on could be seen: some were on fire, but most were gutted or abandoned. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I recognized a few more shuffling creatures lurking in the shadows. Suddenly, I was filled with a wild rage. I did not want to be here. I did not want to face this new reality. I needed to kill something. I grabbed a fireman's axe and swung it around a little bit. I felt familiar in my hands, like I had been trained in its proper use at some point - though I could not remember when. I threw on an old fireman's coat, and walked towards the door. The man looked at me.

"Don't wander too far now. It gets dangerous out there." I crawled out the front door into the rain. I was out for blood.

The next morning I was pretty sore. I had killed 2 zombies out in the street, but I had underestimated the energy required for such a task. I barely had enough strength to crawl back into the fire station before I collapsed from exhaustion. I got up early, and went out in the streets again. The rain had stopped, but the clouds remained. It was very cold outside. After conferring with some other survivors about the disease itself, I decided to wear a gas mask I had found in an old box to help prevent possible infection. A fireman's helmet completed my attire, and I felt reasonably protected. I killed another zombie before I walked back inside and searched for more supplies. I was becoming more proficient with my axe, and it took less and less effort use. I noticed a series of cables and boards connecting to some of the other buildings which were next to my fire department home. I asked somebody about them.

"If you get good enough at free running you can navigate across those cables to get into buildings inaccessible from ground level." Mentally, I made that a priority. It seemed only logical to find a way to get access to the more heavily fortified buildings. I searched a bit more in the fire department, and found nothing of note. It was an uninteresting day, to say the least.

After watching some of the survivors repair the barricades for a few hours, I felt good enough at construction to contribute. I set out again today with the intent of slaying some more Zeds on a quick raid. Upon returning to the fire station, I decided to try my luck at free running again. I carefully stepped out onto the cables connecting the FD to what appeared to be the Josephine General Hospital. After an hour of snail-pace steps across the steel cables, I made it to the hospital. I was greeted by a large number of survivors, many happy to see another skilled enough to join them in their bastion. I searched the hospital for medical supplies, and found none. I decided to sleep here for the night. The cozy feeling that you get from being in a place many people call home appealed to me: many of the rooms showed signs of semi-permanent residence.

I climbed out the windows of the hospital today and set off into the streets in search of more skulls to crack. I had terrible luck, and so I decided to call it a day and head home. Upon arrival though, somebody had barricaded the doors of Langsford Drive Fire Station beyond what they were usually. I could see no way to get inside. I tried the Odo General Hospital as well, but the barricades were too strong there as well. Starting to panic, I searched for an entry point into the cluster of buildings I had begun to call home. No luck, anywhere. As I grew increasingly tired with the days travels, I began to lose hope. With only a little energy left I made a last attempt to get inside a junkyard. I yelled and banged at the fence, begging for help, but nobody replied. The sinking realization set in that I was stuck out here. I swallowed my fear, and hid in some bushes. I covered myself with some cardboard, but it knew this would do almost nothing.

As I huddle outside in the cold, I can't help but feel betrayed. Why were the barricades over-built? I feel like I just started to make a new life for myself here...

I can hear them, close by. I feel that I will not survive the night.

They are walking closer...I think they can...smell me...

Oh shi

December, 2010

My eyes shot open. I was staring at the asphalt, in the middle of a street. The urge to breathe overtook my entire consciousness, and I choked on some grime as I forcefully inhaled. The air was fresh; fresher that I remember it being ever before. I went to move my arms to push myself up off the ground, but they were extraordinarily stiff. As I struggled to my feet, I reached down and grabbed a fire axe. Oddly enough, it was lying on the ground next to a radio receiver. I stretched, and immediately felt pain on the back of my neck. I reached around and felt. There was one spot in particular that was extremely tender...and that is when I saw the needle. A very high-tech looking thing, it was discarded on the ground very close to my radio. The stainless steel casing had an engraving in it that I could barely make out: "NecroTech". NecroTech. The words sounded familiar to me...

In an instant, all of my memory came flooding back. I shuddered and closed my eyes as I remembered that night. The cold hands, the stench of rot, the clawing, and the final bite...

I ripped my shirt off and looked at my stomach, where that undead thing had first latched its teeth in. To my dismay, an infected wound remained to remind me of the agony; the sheer pain and horror of being a living meal. And yet I was alive - by some divine miracle. I shook my head as I tossed the empty syringe aside, gathering my few possessions. I looked around at where I was: the street sign read 'War Crescent'. I looked around, and sure enough, recognized Odo General Hospital almost immediately. I was not so far away from where I had...died. It is weird to write that - whatever life I lived before this, death was final. Absolute. Eternal. Here? Nothing more than a condition.

At any rate, I was soon on the move. My first order of business? Find a way to get indoors. I was not going to repeat my mistake - even though here death was only temporary, I had no idea of how long I had been out of it: when I died - it is still hard to write - it had been raining for a few days, and I was soaked to the bone, but upon waking up I was mostly dry. I checked the usual entrances at Odo and Langsford, but everything had been boarded up entirely. I noticed a small junkyard not far away. It looked like it was accessible through a small hole in the fence, though just barely. More important? The tell-tale cables running from the roof of the junkyard office to Langsford. In a few minutes time I was navigating the cables into the fire station. I climbed through the upstairs window, and dropped down onto the catwalk. Only a quick glances from other haggard survivors acknowledged my arrival. I was feeling weaker by the second though, and I knew it had to do with the bite on my stomach. I needed some additional medical help, and fast - I had a instinctual feeling that if I did not do something about this infection, it would be the end of me...again. Gathering what strength I had left, I strung myself out across the wires connecting Langsford to Josephine. After a few minutes of arduous effort, I collapsed through the window on the other side. I could hear a number of survivors talking in low voices close by, but I needed some sort of medical help before I joined them. I rummaged through multiple cupboards before stumbling across a first aid kit. I ripped it open, swallowing the penicillin. I gritted my teeth and poured hydrogen peroxide over my wound. It fizzed and stung like nothing else, but it stopped after a few seconds. I doused the bite several more times before I cleaned it off with the remnants of a surgical gown. After wrapping it with the cleanest gauze I could find, I stood up. I felt worlds better, though still tired. I set my focus on finding more first aid supplies. For a few hours I searched the abandoned rooms of the hospital, only seeing one other person obviously doing the same thing. After I had found enough remnants to put together 3 kits, I climbed back down from the upper floors of the building and walked into the front lobby, where most everybody else was. There was a generator here, as well as a radio. As I sit here and write on a makeshift bed, I can't help but feel thankful. I have a roof over my head, and a place to sleep. One of the others told me it was December. That means I was dead for at least 2 days. I have no recollection of those days at all.

I last wrote when I was sure I was doomed for eternity. Yet, here I am, alive again. I decided to leave the blood spatters in my last entry, as a constant reminder of how life truly is here: live hard, die fast. I don't know what the future holds for me in this place, but I intended to make the best of it.

Week of the 5th

The past few days have been relatively uneventful. Mostly spent searching for supplies and whatnot. There has been a flood of radio traffic recently, most of which is random banter between survivors. The radio will crackle to life at odd times, and somebody's tiny voice temporarily fills the room. I am not familiar enough with these outdated devices to operate them, but I am not to concerned about this right now. It is something I will bother myself with later. The other day I stepped outside briefly to hunt some Zeds. Not one to be found for a while, which surprised me. I have heard murmurs among some of the veteran survivors of zombie hordes numbering in the hundreds...the thought makes me shiver. I want to gain some more experience before I venture out into more dangerous territory. So far the area around Josephine has been pretty good to me, and I see no reason to leave it.

Today the radio came to life with a more ominous message: Zed numbers increasing to the north. I decided to venture outside again, seeing as I had not killed any zombies in a while. I searched and searched, but found none. I decided to return indoors and scavenge more. After finding a few fuel cans and a crowbar, I decided to explore to the north. After a time, I scrambled across some more cables onto the roof of an old nightclub. I crawled through the roof door, and was immediately surrounded by blackness. I crawled around for a while before finding a generator. I filled it up with fuel, and pressed the ignition button. It sputtered to life, bringing with it a radio and all of the lights. A neon sign flickered to life: Club Crosland. There were two people here huddled in the corner of the building, and one appeared to be badly injured. I clumsily tried to provide some medical attention, but in the process wasted a good amount of supplies. I noticed how tired I was getting, and after double checking the cades, I decided to head back to Josephine. On the way out I noticed a very large building that looked very tech-ish. There was a faded sign on the front, and after staring past the grime, I was able to read the words "The Rothwell Building". All of the windows were dark. I think I'll start a to-do list today, and visiting this curious building will be the first thing on it. I had just enough energy to search for a bit more first aid supplies - which I found - before I collapsed into my cot in the lobby. I am getting to know some of the survivors here. It is raining again, and hard. The water reserves are nearly full, and if it keeps raining, I just might get to shower tomorrow.

I am starting to think that the cause of everyone's extreme fatigue is malnutrition. Food is hard to come by, and fresh food is non-existent. There seems to be no shortage of vitamins, but living off of those and thrice-processed food cannot be healthy. I have attributed my own fatigue to this. I cannot be out for more than a few hours a day before the need to sleep overtakes me.

Today was fairly productive, however. I spent a couple hours tinkering with the battered radio receiver I found a few weeks ago in the fire station I woke up in. Suddenly the static I had grown accustomed to hearing switched to silence with the turn of a dial. I left the radio on at a low volume so as not to waste the battery, but I was curious to know what channel I had stumbled across. My answer came a few hours later, in the form of a broadcast. It sounded very official; military almost. There was something mentioned about Pitneybank, which I assume is another neighborhood in this godforsaken city. I made a note of the frequency though - 25.95 MHz. I figured that the nature of these reports could become very useful in the future. Speaking of which, I need to find a map and figure out where I am...

I decided to venture out to an auto repair shop I had noticed on the way back from the night club yesterday. After about half an hour I had arrived at Pyncombes Auto Repair. The generator was out, and after refueling, I began to search. I found a number of spray cans among various junk, and a crowbar. The only thing I had on my not-so-epic to-do list was to explore The Rothwell Building, so I set off there next. The as the building came in sight, I noticed that many of the lights were on today. This building had makeshift bridges comprised of aluminum siding and 2x4's built to it from most of the surrounding rooftops, which gave it the air of importance. I crossed one of the bridges and entered through a smashed window on the third floor.

The hum of industrial electronics greeted my ears immediately, and after trekking through the halls for a short while, I stumbled across a brightly lit laboratory. There were a few survivors here, most in dirtied lab coats. One was operating a machine, and as I observed, the machine let out a sharp hiss of compressed air. In true dramatic fashion, a small cover lifted on the side of the machine and some sort of fog dissipated. One of the scientists (from what I presume) reached into the opening and produced a small object: a bright and shiny syringe that was highly resemblant of the the one I had seen on the ground next to me after I awoke from being dead. The scientist placed the new item on a beaten-up steel lab table next to 5 identical ones. They were all filled with a glittering serum, and tiny green LED's twinkled on the sides, quickly pulsing on and then off again, only to repeat this action about 10 seconds later. There were three workstations in this lab, though only one was in active use. Another machine was illuminated and humming, the computer interface on the front displaying a readout of 7:32:14. This was ticking down second by second, and the scientist asleep on a pile of blankets next to the machine itself confirmed my suspicions that he was waiting for another syringe to be manufactured. The third machine was off. The scientist I had first seen had gathered all of the syringes on the table and had put them into a metal case, which he then slipped into his bag. He clicked at the keyboard for a a second, and then began to walk out of the lab. I stepped aside as he exited, the only exchange between us a nod. A second later the machine stopped humming and the large "NT" logo on the side of it stopped glowing. These machines peaked my curiosity, especially because I recognized the large logo on the side of it. I think I'll add something about them to my to-do list.

Following the scientist, I entered a stairwell that had been lit with lights salvaged from what looked like a construction site. They dimmed and flickered occasionally. As I descended the stairs, the sound of a portable generator came to my ears. I emerged in the lobby to find 4 other people there - the scientist I had followed, who was now going to bed, and 3 people who were apparently guards. Two were working on the entryway barricades, hauling chairs and desks they had no doubt gathered from the upper floors of the building onto the already formidable barricades. One was cleaning his shotgun. All looked very battle hardened. There were signs of a recent battle on the walls and floor in the form of fresh bloodstains. It is funny to note that over the weeks here I have come to recognize fresh blood from old blood. I am evolving to survive in this new reality.

The light outside is what caught my attention. The sun was going down, and during this time of the year that meant I had less than half an hour to get back home before it was dark outside. I turned around and was faced with the large sign behind the front desk of the building:

Necro
Tech
Rothwell Campus

I immediately made the connection with the syringe I had found next to me days ago. This was a NecroTech Building. I knew very little about it, but now was not the time to ask questions. I realized that I needed to start a list of important locations, which I intend to take care of after I finish this entry. I climbed back up to the 3rd floor and began my trek back home. It was a quick trip, but I was definitely feeling the effects of the malnutrition I am suffering from. As I stepped back into the confines of my home at Josephine, I felt relaxed once more. Survivors were being alloted showers, and I jumped for joy - I had not showered since I first got here. After I was done I got the chance to wash some of my clothes and whatnot. Creature comforts are very important after you have taken care of the basics, after all. It was a long day, and I will sleep well.

Today was bright and sunny, an oddly cheerful winter day considering my surroundings. Almost all of the fires were out now, at least in the immediate area. I could still see some smoke rising from distant buildings, but they were too far away to be of any consequence. One of the survivors descended into the lobby just as I was waking up. He looked at me as I was cleaning my axe, and nodded his head towards the south-facing doors of the hospital lobby.

"There a zombie out there is pretty bad shape, about three blocks to the south of here. I almost took care of it, but it slipped away from me in the darkness of an alley early this morning." He eyed my weapon, and then continued. "You could probably finish it off pretty quick." I stood up and shouldered my axe.

"Thanks for the tip." I had not been zombie hunting in a long time, and I was eager to do some damage. In a matter of minutes I had crossed over to Odo General and was climbing out the front door, as the building had since been returned to an appropriate level of barricading. A short walk later, without seeing much of anything, I rounded the corner and was faced with the illuminated facade of the Doutch Museum. There were two zombies out front. One was looking very tattered, but the other was intact. Both of them were just standing in the street, swaying back and forth with a glazed over expression. I snuck up behind one and raised my axe. With a roar, a brought it down with a heavy swing. The sickening sound of meat cleaving flesh greeted mt ears, and the zombie staggered forward. I ripped my axe out, and lashed out hard. The crunch of breaking ribs sounded next, and I had to kick the thing in the back before my axe would dislodge. It stumbled to its knees, and with a final heave, I buried my blade into its left shoulder. I jerked my axe out of the thing's back, and it flopped forward onto its face with a wet thud. I was sweating and shaking with adrenaline, and without missing a beat I charged towards the next zombie. I hacked at this one a few times, but on the second swing, it came to life. The zombie spun around, taking both a blow to the face and me by surprise. The weight of the weapon shattered its jaw, but it lunged at me like nothing had happened. I dodged the sudden attack, and chopped at the zombie's spine. It let out a throaty, rotten groan and collapsed. It began to pick itself up off the ground, and I chopped at it again. The force of my blows were getting weaker, and I knew I would fatigue soon. The axe was just too heavy. I realized this none too soon as my final blow failed to penetrate the death-hardened flesh. For whatever reason, these zombies in death were tougher to chop at than wood. The zombie struggled to stand upright, and I took this as my cue to leave. I took off running to the north, back towards the lights of my home. I did not stop running until I was clambering up and over the barricades at Odo. I did not look back.

I spent the rest of my day cleaning all of the blood off of my clothes with a bleach solution. There was no tolerance for contamination in Josephine. I searched for more first aid supplies, and after talking with a doctor who happened to be in the building, gained a new level of confidence in my first aid. I noticed one of the survivors fixing a portable transmitter that was almost non-usable. He had a respectable collection of tools, and I realized how useful this would be to have. Also, I have realized the importance of finding some sort of gun. The axe, while very useful, is simply too heavy to use all the time. Both items will be added to my to-do list. After putting together a few more first aid kits (comically referred to as FAK's by some of the veterans here), I have decided to call it a day. I am tired.

I woke up this morning to unpleasant news. A few of the survivors were talking in hushed tones about the Rothwell Building. I didn't really hear much of what they were saying, but I could tell it was bad. I gathered up my supplies and set out as quickly as I could, curious as to what I would find. As I emerged from Josephine, I could see that all the lights in Rothwell were off. I made my way across the rooftops on my usual route. Upon reaching the building though, I was faced with an unpleasant surprise. All of the bridges into the building were destroyed. Carefully, I descended to the street. The sight was grisly. There were 8 bodies lying on the ground outside of the front doors. A large battle had obviously been fought here, as bullet holes were prevalent in almost every surface. The front doors were completely destroyed, and barely hanging closed on their hinges. They creaked and screeched as I pushed them open and stepped into the darkness. My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness inside of the ruined facility, and I immediately saw 4 zombies lurking in various places. I made short work of one, dragging its corpse outside. I returned and tried to finish off one more, but I could not quite kill the thing. I tried not to think of the lab upstairs - I hope that the scientist there had made it out. I managed to clamber back onto the roof of a nearby building, and began the trudge back to Josephine. I walked into the lobby and reported my findings to some of the other survivors who were just starting their day. A few of them talked briefly and set out in a small group. It is strange to think that I was just in that building the other day...it felt so safe. I don't know how well I'll sleep tonight. This place doesn't feel safe anymore.

Week of the 12th

The past few days have been hectic. I have been on the run, to be honest. I woke up to the news a few days ago - a large zombie horde had moved into Penny Heights, and was ruining everything. There was much activity in Josephine today: everybody who could was working on the barricades, fixing things, or searching for supplies. There was talk of packing up and heading for nearby Lumber Mall with the idea of holing up and fighting, but this was being met with mixed emotion. Some people had already packed up their stuff and left in the middle of the night. Many of the veteran survivors were calm and collected, but I could not see why. I was getting jumpy, and the memory of my death was still fresh on my mind. I poked around for a while, trying to remain calm. All day the radio crackled with more reports of death and destruction, survivors sending a final broadcast before fleeing. I couldn't take it. I waited for everyone to head to sleep, and then I slunk out of my home like a ghost in the night.

I do not know how long I traveled north - I only remembered the radio broadcast saying to head that direction. I left my home and all of those other survivors, to what fate, I have no idea. I trekked across roofs, through empty floors of office buildings, and around the ruins if what used to be this city. I couldn't see the lights from Josephine anymore, and that made me feel a little sad inside. I am glad that I managed to scavenge weapons and ammunition from Lumber before I took off: I now was in possession of a pistol and a shotgun, with enough ammo to last a while. After of trudging through the darkness, I spotted a large building with lights on in the distance. I made for it, and was soon there. I crawled through the second floor window left open for us free runners, and entered the huge building that I discovered was Tolman Power Station. There were only 6 others here beside myself, and all were asleep. The building was extremely heavily barricaded. I found what looked to be an abandoned cot, and dumped my gear. I am tired and in an unfamiliar place - I'll explore this area more tomorrow. I think I saw a sign saying "Welcome to Dentonside" on one of the arterials below me during my journey over here. Until tomorrow, then.

More travelling. I am on a mission to make it north. I am still sort of spooked about the sudden invasion of my previous home, though. I don't know when I will stop moving north...maybe when I cannot go any further. I passed through a number of suburbs today on my journey, my days travels ending in a place called Paynterton. It began to rain today while I was out, and very quickly grew miserable outside. I took a long break from the deluge in a burnt-out loft that was all that remained of a fire station. It was too treacherous to navigate the cables, poles, and boards that were my lifeline, my highway to the north. After an hour or so, the rain let up, and I continued on my way. I navigated towards what appeared to be a cluster of two hospitals and some office buildings: they were all lit, and I had nowhere else to go. I settled on a building called the Cottrell Building, as it was not a hospital and looked formidably barricaded. I climbed down to the lobby to see if anybody was here. Nothing. The generator, which was beginning to sputter from a lack of fuel, echoed sadly in this empty place. I checked the barricades, closed all of the doors leading off the main lobby, and turned the generator down to conserve fuel. The lights dimmed, making the place seem even more barren. I found some discarded blankets, and after hanging my clothes to dry, I have curled up under the front desk to sleep. As I side note, I saw a survivor in the distance today who had a pair of binoculars. Those would be infinitely useful. Finding a pair is on the to-do list. Goodnight, world.

I am only awake to record an interesting disturbance. There was a loud crashing sound in the lobby, and I have woken up. It is black outside, and the rain has resumed with a fury. There is a lone soul passed out in the middle of the floor from a combination of exhaustion and serious physical injury. He is bleeding, but I am too beat from the day to help him right now. I had only enough strength to drag him out of the light and throw one of my blankets over him. I have some FAK's on me...but I have no idea when I will be able to resupply, and this makes me pause. It is different here, so far away from my old home. Resources are limited, and survival is dependent on what you have for yourself. Without an army of fellow survivors at your back, life is more...competitive. I will...consider attending to his wounds in the morning, seeing as they are not life-threatening. At least...not...yet...I am too tired to be having these thoughts. Back to sleep.

Today I woke to sun. Sun, of all things, its beams tricking through the cades and higher windows of the atrium when I slept. I rose to see that another survivor had joined us in the night, and that this one had apparently taken care of the other's injuries, and on top of that had refueled the generator. I breathed a sigh of relief, seeing as I would not have to give up an FAK today. I dressed and assembled my growing collection of things, slinging my shotgun over my back as I reached to put on my gas mask. On the way up to the exit of this place, I passed a mirror. I paused, and noticed that I looked very intimidating with the mask on. It was the first time I had seen myself in a mirror since I got here. The moment passed though, and I was on my way north again. The sun outside came with a catch: there were no clouds in the sky to catch the heat, and it was very cold. I noticed frost in the shadows of buildings, and remembered that it was indeed winter. A chilly wind picked up, and nipped at any of my open skin. I flipped the collar of my jacket up and pressed on. I had to descend into the streets for a little bit, as there were no buildings to free run to. It feels strange to travel in the streets now, almost unnatural. This was an urban jungle, and there was no way I would venture across the forest floor when I was safe in a tree.

Quickly enough I was back up in friendly territory, all the while trekking north. The sun was high in the sky when I stopped for lunch, which consisted of some trail mix I had scavenged out of a bashed-in vending machine back at the Tolman Power Station on the way out. It was a few more hours before I saw a large building in the distance. Instinctively, my hopes rose. I had been looking for a mall now for days, simply roaming north until I found one. I needed a number of things from one - namely a toolbox and binoculars - and I did not want to set up camp until I found one that was reasonably close. As I grew closer, my hopes were confirmed. There was a large sign over one of the entrances: Treweeke Mall. I was growing tired though, and I wanted to search the mall when I had more energy. I stepped out into the street with the aim of hacking at a zombie or two, and was surprised to find a number of them wandering. I chopped at one idle zed for a few minutes, and then turned my attention to getting somewhere safe for the night. I entered Muirhead Avenue Railway Station, and noticed that the barricades needed a good amount of work. I set to strengthening them immediately, until they were just to the point where people could still get inside. I then crossed over to the Masters Museum cading up Pegrum Place Police Department along the way. I settled in an upper floor of the building, in a room with a nice view of the mall. The lights, I noticed with a drop of the heart, were off inside, which would severely inhibit any scavenging.

I will admit, every sunset I turn on my small radio receiver and listen until the evening military report begins. I keep listening for news of my beloved Penny Heights...I hope that they are ok down there...but I did what I had to do. I am alive, and thats what matters. Any news would be comforting, though.

I found out I am in a suburb called Dulston. I wonder if it will live up to its unfortunate name.

Dulston, as it turns out, is far from dull. I am writing this entry still sore from my recent death and subsequent revival. I made a foolish attempt to get into Treweeke Wall without properly checking the integrity of the building first. As I tried to climb across the street onto the roof, the cables gave way, and I plummeted to the ground. I hit hard, and hurt my ankle severely. In attempting to get back inside before nightfall, I got lost in the dark streets. I passed out from the pain in the middle of the road, running from a pack of zombies that had caught me in the dark. I woke up somewhere today, looking at the sky. The back of my neck still aches...

I am exhauseted. I will write more tomorrow when I find out how long I was dead, and where I am.

Today has been a very busy day, full of travel and discovery. Currently, I am in the Botting Towers. I woke up this morning to the crackle of the radio, which I must have left on the previous night. A broken voice rang in the place I had slept, announcing that the Tolman Power Station had been destroyed. I had just come from there not a week previous, and the news hit me hard. It seemed as if the horde I had just escaped from was following my very footsteps, though at a much slower pace. In the end, this whole experience has taught me that there is never a place which you could truly call home: a safehouse one day was a zombie-ridden shell the next.

After thinking over the radio reports and what they meant, I decided that there was too much danger closing in from the north and south to keep moving up and down this corridor. I made up my mind to head west, to explore new territory. I felt oddly reminiscent of the first pioneers heading out into the unknown. I spent all day travelling with the sun, and after many hours, I began to see more and more lit buildings. I decided that I was entering safer territory, and after climbing out of the side of a destroyed office building, I saw another huge structure in the distance. I approached with haste, my hopes rising. After 30 minutes, I was there, and I shouted for joy: Dowdney Mall, with lights inside blazing in defiance of all the chaos outside. I quickly entered through the north-eastern roof, and found myself surrounded by fellow survivors. In a mall once more, I immediately set off to the sports store to find myself some binoculars - a project I had been unable to complete since the ransack of Lumber Mall last month. After digging through what seemed to be like a million empty boxes (finding a knife in the process), I found a dusty pair of binoculars. I was elated. I could finally make use of them in the various tall buildings in the city. I returned to the main mall, catching glimpses of many more survivors down the long, abandoned main corridors. Still unsure about the safety of malls in general, I decided to spend the night in another place. So, here I am in the Botting Towers. I intend to settle in tomorrow, and to scavenge more. Goodnight.

Week of the 19th

Another week...time is beginning to progress more normally for me now. I am sleeping at night more regularly, but always with one eye open. I woke up this morning and decided to scout the area out. Using my newfound pair of binoculars, I scanned to the north and the east, looking for any activity in the streets. I discovered a few zombies roaming in the streets to the east, and I set out to hack one up a bit. It was over quickly: a few slashes and hacks before one of them started to wake up. I backed off, content with my assault. I reentered Dowdney Mall and resumed my search for a toolbox. After many hours of searching, I could still find nothing. I did notice, however, a large mast-object on top of Heckworthy Towers. I remembered the previous day when I was in there, how the portable generator which was set up was wired a lot differently than any of the others I had seen, but it had been out of fuel. Venturing over to the building, I took one of the fuel cans I had found and powered up the generator. Immediately, I could tell something was different about this building. There was a large humm of powering-up electronics that echoed from the top of the buildong, and on top of that, the mobile phone in my pocket (which I had found a while ago) suddenly beeped and vibrated. It was the first noise I had ever heard it make. One by one, the bars on the service meter illuminated. Curious, I climbed back outside onto one of the nearby roofs. The mast on top of the skyscraper was now illuminated, blinking yellow against the sunset. I made the connection that the tower on top of this building must be a cell tower, many of which I have seen in my travels. Pleased with myself for aiding the survivor effort in some way, a retreated back into the Dowdney Mall for the evening. Here I am, sleeping in an old mattress outlet...haven't been on one of these in a while. I will sleep hard.

Ventured outdoors again today, in search of some zombies to kill. I didn't need to walk far: malls are like magnets for these things. I reached for my fire axe, but something made me pause. I had been practicing recently with my pistol, and I figured that today would be as good as any to test recently developed aim. I aimed, and pulled the trigger. The crack rang out in the desolate streets, reverberating off the walls of destroyed buildings. Miss. I took aim again, leveling my arm and steadying myself they way I had practiced. I pulled the trigger, and a chunk of flesh exploded off of the zombie's shoulder blade. I pulled the trigger again, starting to walk towards my target. Another hit. I fired again in rapid succession, a one two volley, but in the heat of the moment I missed. Taking aim again, I fired my last two shots, one of which blew off the zombie's left hand. Holstering my pistol, I lunged at the zombie with my fire axe. It was taking a beating, and nearing that point where it would fall over. After hacking at it a few more times, a realized I was in a bit of a situation. There were other zombies around, and some were closing in on the racket they heard from a few blocks away. I knew this zombie was almost dead, and I desperately wanted to add to my kill count, but I knew today was not the day. I took off running for St. Emelia's Church. I vaulted over the barricades in the entryway, and then quickly climbed into the choir loft and scuttled over to Heckworthy Towers. I am going to sleep now...I'm exhausted.

It is getting closer to Christmas everyday. I woke up this morning to a winter surprise: Everything outside was covered in a deep blanket of snow, and it was still falling! As I peered out the broken windows of the office I had slept in, I marveled at the beautiful white landscape below me spreading out in all directions. Apart from the occasional zombie trudging through the snow, and a bloodstained pile of snow that no doubt covered somebody who didnt make it indoors last night, it was quite the winter wonderland. I headed over to Dowdney Mall to resume searching for my damn toolbox that I had yet to find. I still could not find one, and I was beginning to get aggravated. I stepped outside and unloaded a clip and a half from my pistol in the direction of some zombies that were swaying slowly, collecting snow on their rotting heads and shoulders. It was oddly...festive, to say the least. I managed one hit despite my rage, and I knew that my aim was getting better still. Filled with a bizarre dose of holiday spirit, climbed my way back into Dowdney Mall for the evening. I did scrounge around in one of the mall's many stores for a large overcoat though, as it was getting very cold outside. I ditched my fireman's helmet (which was getting fairly gross smelling from sweat and dried blood), and stole a Santa Hat that was sitting in one of the back rooms. I returned to the north east lobby, where almost all of the other survivors were gathered in makeshift cots and whatnot. It was cold in the mall, the heat having been non-existent for what I can only presume has been years. Somebody had set up a shitty little Christmas tree - no doubt cut down from a nearby park - and covered it in lights that were hooked into the 15 or so power strips attached to the portable generator. I laughed at the mediocre display, but it was a good effort, to say the least. Some of the other survivors and I started to sing Christmas carols, though none of them lasted long. Hardly anybody could remember all of the words. Another survivor shared a packet of instant peppermint cocoa they had found a while back. We all shared stories around the fire somebody had built in an old dumpter, about 30 of us, just for 20 minutes forgetting about the world outside. A crash of barricades being broken put everyone on edge immediately, but it was only a lone zombie and the barricades were quickly repaired. We returned to the fire, laughing and chatting as the night wore on. After a few hours, we all decided to go to sleep. One by one, people have been hitting the hay. I am one of the few left awake, writing in here...I'm still not sure why. Oh well. Today gave me a different kind of release - I have not laughed since I woke up in Langsford Drive Fire Station, which seems like an eternity ago. I wonder how things are down there...

Well, it's off to bed again. I will fall asleep to the familiar sound of a portable generator. The lights in the mall are dimmed now, per regulation, leaving only the strands of Christmas lights hung from railings and the ceiling to twinkle and dance as the snow falls overhead.

I think I will call this place home.

Short day. Ventured outside, and found almost no zombies. Anywhere. Picked off one in front of Dowdney Mall with my pistol - damn my aim is getting good. After the brief firefight, I reloaded my weapon and climbed back inside. I decided to make my way over to St. Boniface's Hospital to search for some FAK's. I found one, but that was it. Short day, short entry. I think I am coming down with a cold. Damn. I guess I am a little upset I could not make it back over to Dowdney tonight...there are so few here compared to there. I feel exposed. Two days 'till Christmas...oh, and it is still snowing.

I cannot believe that Christmas is tomorrow...it will be my first one in this new place. I feel strange about it, like I have moved into a new neighborhood or something. Today was once again frustrating, as I still cannot find a toolbox. I searched the hardware store in the mall for the third time in as many days for hours, and still I cannot find anything. I heard there is a factory up north a little bit: perhaps I will check that out tomorrow. I wounded another zombie today, heavily, but I ran out of ammunition in short order. I went back indoors fairly quick, and proceeded to pick through my inventory of items and discard those that were of little use. After my 'winter cleaning', I returned to my spot in the mall. Somebody was looking at a few pictures in their wallet, which I could only presume were family members long gone. A single tear ran down his dirty face, but he quickly wiped it off and put the picture back. I looked away, feeling like I had witnessed something I was never supposed to see. The evening wore on. Somebody who used to be a Priest - or a Father, Reverend, whatever - spoke a few words and had a makeshift Christmas Eve celebration. I sat by and watched, but did not participate. It seems pointless to look for God in this forsaken landscape...but if it gave others the hope they needed to continue on and keep fighting for life, who am I to deny them or say otherwise? It is still snowing, and is very deep in some places outside where the wind has drifted it. More decorations are going up all over the place, whatever people can find. At least it keeps morale up.

One of the survivors has begun to sing in the dark. Through the soot-covered windows, we can see the snow outside, and everything seems to be at peace. The caroling is getting louder as others join in. There are people sitting up all over the place, caroling out in the darkness, seemingly in defiance of both the dark and the horror that lurks outside. It is growing louder by the minute - people from the other ends of the mall are joining in and everyone is singing with more force. People are on their feet now, lighting candles and standing next to Christmas lights. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it is over. People are smiling, but it is a smile of distant memories, an homage to all of the both sad and joyful things locked away in their hearts and souls. Someone just called out, "Happy Holida- ah, screw it, Merry Christmas, and goodwill towards Men." There were a few chuckles, but the mall has grown silent again. Candles out, blankets pulled tight, eyes closed. I write by the flickering light of our happy Christmas tree while the generator hums in the background.

I recognize this song, and I intend to write down the words so as to never forget this night... ha, Merry Christmas from Dowdney Mall.

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon Virgin Mother and Child

Holy Infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace

Christmas day came with a bang. I woke up this morning to absolute chaos: the southwest corner of the mall was under siege. Somebody - I guess more appropriately someTHING - had destroyed the generators throughout the mall. It was sunny outside, but the darkness was foreboding. There was an epic battle raging, and the sounds of gunfire, yells, and that bone-chilling moan of the dead were prevalent. So much for hunting for a toolbox. I whipped out my shotgun and started blasting away. I turned to my fireaxe when I ran out of shells. Many of the survivors here were wounded, and the battle was out of control. I closed up the front doors as best I could and attempted to re-barricade them, but it was of little use: zombies kept getting in my way, and I could do little to build a substantial barricade. In the end, I simply turned and hacked away at whatever was dead. As grew more tired, I took to dumping the bodies of recently slain zombies outside, lest they return to life and cause more problems. After clearing out the corpses, I retreated back to another corner of the mall to rest for a while. I was out of ammunition, and I needed to gather more strength. I am writing as the sound of gunfire pounds and echoes in the empty halls of the mall, and as survivors rush past me to help fight the good fight. And I though today would be peaceful, too. More later today.

Week of the 26th

I am currently hiding in the Thorne Arms, a nondescript pub in the suburb of Shearbank. It has been a hectic two days of travel since I last wrote, and for good reason. After fighting the zombies assaulting Dowdney Mall for what seemed like hours, I recognized the fact that there was no leadership here. At all. It was an unorganized fight hampered by the fact that all of the mall's communication had been cut off. The tide of undead was not stemmed by any human efforts, and once they saw we were here, they flowed towards the mall like a river of death. I made a judgement call and left the mall to spend the night recuperating for another day of fighting. When I rose in the morning I scanned Dowdney with my binoculars, and the sight that met my eyes was dismal. Two sections of the mall were smoking, and none of them had power. I could see many of the windows covered in blood, and the corpses of dozens scattered everywhere. Human and zombie mixed, like a battle of old, with the grotesque twist of the newly risen wandering among them. There were a few wounded people hobbling onto the roof in the northwest, trying to free run into an adjacent building, but as I watched in horror, the cables gave way and they tumbled into the street below into the hands of the hungry dead. I realized that Dowdney had fallen, and that it was indeed time to leave.

I climbed down into the street and took off running to the west. The old feeling I had just gotten rid of - that awful feeling of being hunted mercilessly - resurfaced all over again as I dodged through burnt out cars and ran through alleyways. The undead shambled after me, a few moving almost fast enough to keep up, but I had the power of strategy on my side. I weaved up and down blocks, shaking my trailers and eventually ending in an empty street. It was desolate, and I was tired. I wandered further and further, eventually stumbling across a Church. To my delight, it was accessible, and in a short time I found a small enclave of survivors in the Solomon Lane Police Department. I spent the night there, exhausted from the days events.

I woke the next morning, and set off west without much fanfare. I scampered across the rooftops until I saw the illuminated hulk of a factory in the distance. It started to drizzle, so I made for it as to avoid getting soaked. I stepped inside and looked around. The generator here was sputtering badly, and I could tell the power would be out here in short order. I made use of the failing light to search for anything that might be of use - I had not yet been inside a Malton factory, and I had no idea what I would find. A few minutes later, however, I jumped for joy. There, in the corner, was a red steel box. I rushed over, and opened it up: Tools. This was perfect, as I had been looking for a set to call my own for about two weeks. I put them in my bag, and realized it was nearly full. Didn't have room for much else.

I took to the street, seeing as to how there were no manageable free running routes to continue on that I could scope from my limited perspective. I headed west until I stumbled upon a sad looking hospital: the sign above the front doors (which were still choked with corpses) read "Lazarus General Hospital". The smell of death here was overpowering, and I walked inside to a lobby that was completely ruined. There were two zombies here, and a number of dead bodies. I would normally have headed onward, but a new idea popped into my head. I dumped all of the corpses outside, and killed one of the two zombies in the lobby. I dumped it outside and then searched for a safehouse, which ended up being the place I am inside now. All of the bar stools and such are piled against the door and windows, making it hard to see. I manged to light a candle hidden under the old fryer in the kitchen, and I am using this to write. There is another survivor here, sleeping under the old bar. I will sleep here for the night, because tomorrow, I am going to attempt to repair the hospital with my newfound tools. Off to bed now, there is much work to be done tomorrow. I can hear a number of dead outside - hopefully they take no interest in this place, seeing as the lights are off.

I was still alive this morning, so I take it that I successfully survived the night. All of the barricades were in place still, and the sun was out shining brightly in the winter dawn. I wrapped my coat around myself tighter, shivering slightly in the cold interior of the building. Snow was still on the ground outside, and for a minute, I considered building a snowman. Laughing at the random thought, I moved to the rooftop toolbox in hand, ready to get to work. To my surprise, however, I noticed that the entry way to Lazarus General was already barricaded, and from my vantage point I could see people working inside already busy with many repairs. I shrugged my shoulders, slightly disappointed, and looked for something else to fix. I had these tools, and damn it, I was going to use them. I noticed an auto repair shop to the immediate southwest of my position that looked worse for the wear. I dropped down into the street, and made my way into the building. Abrahall Auto Repair was in complete disarray, and had been so for a long time. As a result, and it took about half the day to repair. When I was done, I set about barricading the building as best I could. I managed to get the barricades erected quickly and heavily, and then sat down to rest. I peeked outside: absolute minimal zombie presence. I will sleep here for an hour or two, seeing as I am exhausted, and then will head back to the Thorne Arms for the night. I still need to talk with that lady there...

I made it back here. After speaking briefly with another survivor in the pub, I learned that may of the buildings here are ruined. It looks like I can make myself useful in this suburb repairing things...I also hear that there is a mall to the north, just a few blocks away. I will make my way over there, maybe I can find some much needed supplies.

It has been a tiring past few days. Running around the suburb, cleaning up the mess that is this place. So many of the buildings are wrecked, it seems pointless to keep rebuilding them. I have gone to bed every night exhausted from the days efforts...but I won't stop. Deep down I sort of feel like it is my responsibility to keep on reconstructing these buildings. The number of zombies in the streets is growing however. This place is getting more dangerous. I recently just finished repairing Owsley Crescent Police Department, which is right next to the ruins of what I discovered to be Stickling Mall. I decided to camp here for a few days and use it as a base of operations to repair the surrounding buildings, and everything worked out fine for a day or two. Last night I awoke to the sound of the barricades collapsing, and a zombie shambling inside. I was still very tired, and I wearily grabbed my axe to put up a fight. Before I could do anything, though, there was a few quick retorts from a pistol and the zombie in the doorway collapsed in a heap. A man as big as myself, though looking much more combat-hardened, quickly stepped inside and closed the doors. He saw me, visibly fatigued, standing up behind the front desk in the lobby. We exchanged few words: I was the only one here, I had repaired the building, I was going to be here for a few days. He nodded and began quickly re-barricading the door. I crawled back under the desk to go to sleep. I woke up this morning to the sound of the generator running. I will eat some of the food I have scavenged while I warm up - it has been deathly cold the past few days, and all the windows here have been broken over countless days. More later.

I spent the better part of the day searching for ammunition, but found very little. I briefly explored Stickling Mall, noting the conditions inside and the number of zombies. It think this is New Years Eve...I am holed up in Owsley with other survivors. We will ring in the New Year in silence, as there are many, many zeds out on the streets. Happy New Years from Shearbank - the first year I will start in this new place. Goodnight.

The new year has been uneventful so far. Woke up early, and spent a good part of the day repairing Stickling Mall. I labored all day, using a good amount of my energy killing the lone zombie inside and dumping all the dead bodies. I managed to repair most of the damage done to the entryways, which was the primary concern. It was getting late though, and I did not have time to properly barricade the northwest corner. In cleaning up my tools, I managed to miss the zombie that came shambling through the unsecured doors - in seconds he was on me, clawing and hacking with a malice. I felt it's teeth sink into my skin in the darkness, and I cried out. I managed to gather up my possessions at the last minute and then I ran like hell. I made for the roof, and within a few minutes I was back in Owsley. The bite has begun to burn, and I am feeling feverish. I used my last FAK the other day, now I have to head back to Lazarus tomorrow to get some attention for this wound before it becomes too infected. I haven't been there in days...here's to hoping it is still intact. I can hear things breaking and smashing from inside the mall. No doubt my days work is being undone as I write - now I'm just pissed off in general.

January, 2011

Week of the 3rd

I am currently back inside Lazarus, after hobbling over here for most of the day. The bite I got from the zombie yesterday was swollen and painful this morning. I feel nauseous just thinking about how filthy that things mouth was...it makes no matter. On the way back over here I noticed that a ton more lights were on in the suburb, and in general buildings were beginning to be rebuilt and re-barricaded. There are still only a handful of survivors in this place, but our numbers are increasing as fleeing survivors seek haven in the the newly rebuilt safehouses. You always have to be on your toes here though, due to the fact that break-ins occur regularly. I pretty much collapsed in the lobby of the hospital, bleeding freely. A number of survivors have gathered here since I left, and I was attended to almost immediately. A few antibiotics later, and my bite is starting to burn less. I am exhausted, and I need another day to recover. I think I will head back over to the mall. Until tomorrow.

Today I woke feeling much better. I was able to walk with ease, and my infection was almost completely abated. I decided to venture over to Stickling Mall in hopes of replenishing my pistol ammunition, as I have been out of that precious commodity for a few weeks. I found the mall finally repaired, and took a moment to pat myself on the back for helping to clear it and repair it. It was sparsely populated, but barricaded like a fortress. I spent a few hours searching, and eventually found all of the ammunition I needed. I stepped outside of the mall, and found a single zombie lingering on a corner. I raised my pistol, took aim, and pulled off a few rounds systematically. The zombie dropped like a rock. I was pleased: my aim had improved so much that I was able to annihilate these monsters with my pistol. Now to get better with my shotgun...

I retreated inside again, and I am staying at Owsley tonight. More and more lights are coming on in Shearbank as survivors trickle in, drawn by the intact infrastructure. The conditions here are rapidly improving: the suburb has come to life again. For how long this lasts I am unsure, as lights draw zombies as well...I will sleep well tonight. Tomorrow it will be time to waste more Zeds.

Week of the 9th

The past few days have been extremely busy but equally as repetitive. This is the situation. Stickling Mall is heavily contested. It has fallen and been retaken many times over the past few days, and I have been too tired to write in the evenings. It is frequently the case that myself and other survivors will sweep through a section of the mall only to hear the awful roars of the undead as they break into another section. I have become very skilled in the use of my pistol as well as my shotgun over these past few days. I can accurately mow down a number of zombies in a single day, though searching for ammunition is difficult still.

We retake the mall, dump bodies outside, and re-barricade. It seems however that whenever I am asleep all of the progress made is undone. One of the evenings I had enough spare time to convince another one of the more veteran survivors to finally teach me how to use the radio I made use of my new abilities to broadcast a message across the Shearbank radio frequency, calling for more help at Owsley. There are about 17 of us here now, mostly operatives making daytime excursions into the mall and the surrounding areas. There is an increasing amount of Zed presence in this suburb...despite that fact I have come to feel oddly attached to this place. I have been attacked a number of times in my battles for the mall, and I have shed a lot of blood in this place. I started out repairing this suburb, but in the end I have ended up as a soldier fighting for the future of this place. There are a decent amount of survivors here, hiding out across the place. Even though the danger is growing everyday, and even though survivors retreating here from all the surrounding suburbs tell of nothing but ruin and death, I feel compelled to stay. I will fight for survival. Another update tomorrow.

This past week has been hell. I have been on the run. A huge horde of zombies finally caught up to me in Yagoton at Bale Mall. The Mall was fine for a day or so, until it fell under heavy siege. As a bit of a background: I abandoned Shearbank after numerous battles around Stickling Mall. I fought there for days, but one day I woke up to a destroyed suburb. Many buildings were falling: some with gunfire blasting out the barricades, some with screams from the undefended interior occupants. I raced northward, heading to areas of lesser zombie concentration, and took up refuge in a hospital. I rose early the next morning and headed west, looking for some peace. I stumbled across Bale Mall one evening as I was looking for more ammunition. It was lit, and after scouting the surrounding area I could see no immediate threat. I decided to spend the night in it, which turned out to be a huge mistake. I am so thankful that being revived really wipes your recent memories...I don't really remember dying, or the horror that must have gone along with it. All I know is that I woke up looking at the cloudy sky, with an all to familiar soreness on the back of my neck. I was in a cemetery, as ironic as that is, and there were a large number of dead bodies and other zombies around me. I quickly stood up, and dashed through the crowd towards a church. I vaulted the pews piled up against the entrance, and climbed onto the roof. I went next door, and hid in a building with the lights out. I have no idea where I am. I need to rest.

After asking a few of my fellow survivors where we are in this large city, I have determined that I am in Gatcombeton. I am really a ways away from Bale Mall, but like always, my wanderings as a dead man evade my memory. I have stumbled upon a cluster of intact structures over here in this suburb, including Calvert Mall. I spent a day or so there stocking back up on ammunition and supplies, as I intend to venture away from here soon. The relative safety of this place is comforting, but I want to to contribute more than just my presence: waiting in a meagerly occupied mall for a horse to arrive is not my idea of living. I need a purpose beyond basic survival at this point. I cannot stay here for much longer either out of shear depression - from a few of the rooftops with my binoculars I can see the wasteland outside of the city, and beyond that, the shadows of a military quarantine. The reminder that indeed I am stuck here is disheartening at times, and the realization that having been bitten - meaning I am a now carrier of the virus - weighs me down like a sack of bricks. I will never be saved. I will never leave here. Maybe one day my body will be collected and burned, all trace of my being extinguished...

I can't think about these things. For now, I am resolved to fight on. I fight for humanity, and against this horror that science has unleashed against us. In the end, I have things to do here. A job, whether I like it or not. I think I will finish restocking my supplies before heading out in the next few days. I have heard of a legendary place to the south...a certain Caiger Mall. I am curious to see this place, as it is rumored to have been home to some of the largest battles in this city between an army of humans and a sea of undead. I will head out in the morning, repairing whatever might need be along the way.

Week of the 16th

I was not able to leave for the south today as I had planned. I was on my way out through Sawtell Walk Railway Station, just like usual, but when I climbed down through the escape hatch in the ceiling I was greeted by a terrible sight: the doors to the street were flapping open in the wind, there was lone zombie crouched over a man bleeding profusely and unconscious from blood loss. I sprung into action, kicking the swaying zombie towards the door and unloading into it with my shotgun. Both chambers, reload, both chambers, reload, both chambers, a hit and a miss. This zombie was tough - the flak jacket left over from this zombies days as a pre-death policeman was doing a fair job of protecting the rotting flesh from my blasts. I finished it with a shot to the skull, and it slumped to the floor. I dumped the body outside, and re-barricaded the building. Having secured the premises, I turned my attention to the man bleeding on the floor. He was in bad shape. It took all of my knowledge (as well as all of my first aid supplies) to stop the bleeding and stabilize him. I put a small bag of saline into an IV and poked it in his arm...he would live long enough for someone else to finish the job. Me? I had resupplying to do. I ventured back onto the roof and hustled over to St. Cyprian's Hospital to gather more first aid. It only took a few hours, which left me enough time to stop back inside the mall and search for ammunition. For the first time ever, I had more pistol clips than I knew what to do with. I needed shotgun shells, and those were hard to find. In my searching, I missed the fact that an enraged zombie was tearing down the barricades at the front door with an avid fury. I dropped what I was doing and rushed to maintain the barricades. After I was sure they would hold, I sent out a broadcast on the radio to all the corners of the mall announcing that indeed there were enemies at the gates. Exhausted from the day, I am now lying in a mattress store, ready for a good night's rest. Perhaps I will be able to leave tomorrow.

Things were a lot calmer today around the suburb. I caught wind of some news on the radio this morning as I was waking up, however: the fabled Caiger Mall was under attack. I had assumed it was a real place and not just of survivor fairy tale, but this was the confirmation I needed. I set off immediately after gathering my things. The snow is getting fairly tiresome now...not only is it dirtied with the grime and filth of the undead, but it can make crossing over rooftops very treacherous. The cables and such get very icy, and there have been a number of close calls I have had with falling. The wind outside today was very chilling, and I found myself hugging my greatcoat around my body tighter and tighter. I moved south, but I did not make it very far. The bitter wind and snow everywhere stopped my progress prematurely. I had to get inside and warm up, as my fingers were freezing inside my threadbare gloves. I swooped down into a ruined library, and spent a good few hours searching for some more gloves in the almost empty coat room. I found a pair hidden in an old box under a pile of books, and immediately changed mine out. There was dust everywhere, and as of now I am still the only one here. I am hiding in the second floor of McDonnell Library. The barricades are set, hopefully there is no trouble tonight.

Well, I made it. Here I am just outside of Caiger Mall. This buildong looks much different that many of the previous I have seen, in the sense that there is more survivor addition to it than original structure. The doors are built of wood, chain link fencing, and sheet metal. The windows are all boarded up from the inside and out. Spikes cover choke points in the entryways, and every wall is covered in dried blood. Bullet casings are everywhere outside, and the pock-marked walls speak of epic battles. I am in awe of this survivor's fortress. Currently, I am sleeping in the Tynte Building. It seems close enough to Caiger for my liking, and due to the fact that there is almost 50 zombies swarming around the SW entry plus my past luck with malls, I don't think I will be sleeping in there anytime soon. After talking with the local security, I have been assigned break in patrol. I will be up on and off throughout the night making sure the barricades are intact. I am excited, I feel like I am part of something now. I have to sleep, my first shift is in a few hours. More then.

Week of the 23rd

Now that I am safely alive again, I can record my tale. I am sitting in a NT building in Darvall Heights currently, writing by candlelight. This facility has only recently been captured again, and the entire building is powered down. I am nursing some injuries, no thanks to my recent escapade with death. The full of battle for Caiger erupted later in the evening, after my last entry. I was woken sometime late at night for my shift to man the barricades, and things went quite normally for a while. As the sun started to rise through the gloom over the city, I was preparing to wake up my replacement. Then all hell broke loose. From right outside the doors in the southwest corner came the most guttural, throaty-sounding roar I have heard in a long time. I peered out the barricades, and jumped back just as fast. The roar had woken around 30 zombies from their slumber, and with a chorus of menacing snarls, they began to assault the barricades. There was no rebuilding to be done. I sounded the alarm, an air horn that was left close to the door just for this purpose. At once survivors began to spring to their feet, rubbing sleep from their tired eyes and reaching for weapons. In the single minute it took for the survivors to get up and ready, the last of the barricades were destroyed and the undead flooded in. A roar of gunfire drowned out the battle cries of the 20 or so of us in the room, and a number of zombies slumped to the ground instantly. I was emptying my shotgun as fast as I could into the fray, bracing myself against a broken fountain. After I was out of shells I grabbed my pistol and squeezed off six quick clips. I took down a number of zombies, but there were so many more.

The casualties mounted on both sides. Some of the zombies looked different - they did not simply throw themselves at the nearest survivor. I watched as one lurched right over the cowering form of a greenhorn survivor to rip the flesh off of a grizzled man wielding two shotguns. The man did not cry out in fear...only in pain. He was resigned to his fate as three zombies started dragging him out the front door. It was a horrific sight - he did not stop chopping away with his knife until he was torn to pieces. I steadied myself and began to hack at the sea of death with my axe. I was growing tired, and I knew that we needed backup. I stumbled over to the radio and sent out a message to anyone who would listen: "They are inside Caiger, we need assistance soo-". My transmission was cut short as a bulky zombie destroyed the already fragile radio with a single, powerful blow. I responded by beheading it with a lateral swing - I was glad to have sharpened my axe a few days ago.

The initial rush soon abated as most of the zombies were killed or incapacitated. Using the last of my energy, I began to dump bodies outside. We had suffered many casualties, about half of which were wounded. The burn of imminent infection was on many, and there were not enough first aid kits to go around. The worst of it was the fact that we did not have any more ammunition. The malnutrition of living off of only processed food and vitamins was very evident here: only a few people even had the strength to rebuild the barricades - much less search for more bullets. I was lucky enough to have left the battle unscathed. I fell asleep leaning up against a wall.

I woke up much later to lanterns lit and guns firing again. There was another break-in, but this time I was in no position to help. I climbed away from the battle, and attempted to return to the Tynte Building. The ladder to the roof was slick with blood though, and the last thing I remember was my hands slipping of the rungs half way to the top. I came to back in the Tynte Building, where many survivors were gathered, all wounded. From their talk I realized the worst: Caiger was destroyed, and somebody who had left the area yesterday carried me out of there 2 days ago. 2 days...it only seemed like an instant that I was out of it. It was bitterly cold in the building, and I was shivering uncontrollably. My head was wrapped up with a large bandage, and any move I made just gave me a splitting headache. I lapsed into unconsciousness once again. In my daze, I remember yelling, gunfire, and then the final words of a random stranger: "Sorry, but we can't carry you out of this one. Hopefully they dont find you in here." Then it was dark. There were a pair of hands I remember after that...but they were ice cold.

That leads me to here. Maybe I will learn some more about NT technology while I am in the area...it has been a long time since I was last in one of these facilities. I need more rest, I always do after being revived.

After a day of travel I have arrived in Havercroft. I made my way here from the ruins of Caiger, desperate to find some more ammunition and to get away from the horde running amok there. On the way down here I passed through East Becktown which was apparently just starting to recover from a recent assault. There were signs of a ferocious battle all over the suburb, and I found it hard to map a route southwest that kept me off the streets due to the fact that many of the buildings were ruined. I think I will return there and help with the rebuilding effort if I can in the next few days, after I finish resupplying. Speaking of supplies, I have run across yet another mall: Ackland Mall. This place is apparently under a smaller siege, and seeing as I am in no mood to deal with that again, I will not be volunteering for any of the duties presented to me. Selfish? Maybe. Worth my life? Not right now. I wish I had something to report about today, but unfortunately there is little. Oh, and the snow has finally stopped. What is left of the bloodstained and dirtied herald of winter is beginning to melt under the sun. It is still bitterly cold out though - I will not be getting rid of this greatcoat anytime soon, no matter how bulky it is. I am sleeping in a nondescript office building tonight, with hopes this will be an inconspicuous target in a moderately infested suburb. I cannot even read the name, as it is getting dark now. I will figure it out tomorrow.

I think I have cleaned my guns more in the past few days then at any point in the past. I have gone through no less that 8 clips of pistol rounds and about 16 shotgun shells in the process of battling it out around Ackland Mall. At first I was hesitant to join the fight, but I can see that there is a larger, more organized presence here than at previous malls. While there is still a massive horde outside gathered outside, the break-ins which have occurred over the past few days have all been dealt with in a swift and effective manner. I have heard some talk amongst the survivors of a powerful presence here...a group which calls themselves The Fortress. This imposing name has been on my mind for two days now: I am torn between joining their ranks and serving a more organized cause or keeping my autonomy and remaining a lone wolf. There are many things I would like to do, and I see myself being unable to pursue them if I was part of an organization...

I will continue to think about this for a while. In the meantime, I have to keep up my searches for ammunition and whatnot. If I am going to make it far, I need to ensure I have the supplies to last. I wish there was more to write about. Until later.

Week of the 30th

Ackland Mall has fallen in the night. I woke up this morning to more than 100 zombies inside the mall, after a quick scouting expedition was complete. There were an additional 30 or so outside the mall, and I wasted no time making my way out of there quickly. I am now in Shore Hills, posted in the Poulter Building. There are a number of scientists here, and I feel like this will be the opportunity I have been looking for to figure out everything I have wanted to know about these syringes. My training starts soon, I will have much more detail tomorrow.

After spending most of yesterday training with the technicians and scientists present in the Poulter Building, I am now able to manufacture and use the very syringes that have saved my life. After talking with a few other veteran medics, I have decided I need a DNA scanner to maximize the effectiveness of the syringes I have collected. There are some zombies apparently out there who are apparently so deteriorated that they cannot be revived by the powerful syringes at all without special attention in a NecroTech Facility. I will search for one of these in the near future. I spent the night trying to remember all that I had learned about both the use and manufacture of the NecroTech Syringe, as they are officially referred to. Most just call them revification syringes. There are many other powerful tools available to me now, like the ability to access something called 'NecroNet', but I do not have time to fool with these things. I am still headed south to find another mall: I am still dangerously low on ammunition.

Someone has given me general directions to a place called Marven Mall, a few suburbs down from Shore Hills. I suppose I am on the way there. I have to pack up my stuff now; I settled down in another NT building (as others refer to the NecroTech Facilities here) for the day to study more on the use of the syringes. I don't know where I am, but I am still heading south.

Marven Mall is quite a sight to behold...the odd shape of it is quite distinctive. Unfortunately, I will not make it there today - I spent the majority of my daylight scouring the dimly lit hallways of the Preston Building searching for a blasted DNA extractor. There were almost none to be found, and after stumbling across more GPS units than I could count (oddly enough) as well as the remnants of what apparently was a huge stockpile of NT Syringes, I found a beat up little case in the back of a closet. The extractor powered up briefly, and then promptly died after displaying "Recharge". For half a second. I found a small bank of cables in one of the powered laboratories that fit the adapter on the bottom of the unit, and I set it there to charge. The thing was in almost perfect condition, though it showed signs of heavy use. I felt momentary guilt: had I just raided someone's cache and stolen their prized extractor? I reminded myself that if it was indeed someone's keepsake, they would not have left it sitting alone in a back closet. Besides, now that I had it, it could be put to use again. I smiled to myself and went to write my name on the back of it, like a kid in the third grade. My smile faded though, as I held the marker in my hand. What was my name? Ever since that helicopter crash - which seemed so long ago - I have not been addressed by my name. I don't even remember what it was...

I left the DNA extractor charging for a while, and returned to the lobby. I aimlessly checked the barricades, shoring them up however I could. I began to feel lonely, in a way I hadn't in a long time. Seeing as I had no place to call home, and that there was no one else here...I shook my mind away from these thoughts. If I was to survive, I could not think like that. There was a difference, as I found out today. I heard the breaking of glass from a window high above me in a nondescript office building on my journey south today. I covered myself with my coat to avoid the falling glass, and then turned angrily to see who would do such a thing. A chair fell out of the window, falling at least 15 floors before hitting the ground with a clatter and a smash. Zombies nearby jolted at the sound, looking for its source. I stood transfixed...that could only mean...

A gunshot made me jerk my head up to the window again. I looked just in time to see a gaunt looking woman tumble out of the window, pistol falling with her. I looked away before she hit the ground. She had committed suicide in the most complete way - by falling out of the window, she had rendered...what was left of her body completely unusable to anyone. There was no coming back from that death. No syringe. No fix. It scarred me a little inside, mentally. How had she become so desperate to do that? I will not be leaving the lobby tonight. At least the generator keeps the awful quiet at bay. I suppose it is a good night for those canned peaches I found, now that I think about it. Oh, and the snow has finally given way to the brutal cold. It is sunny and clear nearly everyday now. I wish those things could just freeze to death.

I restocked as much as I could in Marven Mall before departing to the east. I am going to try and make it back to my home suburb of Penny Heights...it has been forver since I have seen the friendly hallways of Josephine General Hospital something about that place - the way in which it reared me into my new existence perhaps - draws me with the comfort of one's actual house or family. I am traversing across East Grayside now, but I will not stay here long. There are dozens of zombies in the streets, and even though I am anxious to try and revive someone I have not found a suitable exit and re-entry point along the way yet. The sun was low on the horizon before I stopped for some rest. Whatever it is with pubs, I am not sure, but I have taken refuge in the Thyer Arms as of now. I am curled up under the bar again. Spent shotgun shells littering the floor are making me uneasy, but this place will have to do for now. I almost forgot, it is February now...I can't believe I first crashed in November...

February, 2011

Week of the 6th

Finally, I have found another pen...it has been a while since my last entry. Well, there is no point in delaying the news...I am finally back home in Penny Heights! I am currently cozied up in my old home of Josephine General Hospital, sitting in the cot that used to be mine...talk about nostalgia. I have already unpacked a good amount of my things, which is considerably more than I had the last time I was here. I cannot believe I am back again. There are only 4 people here besides me, and activity in the suburb is relatively quiet. I am sleeping here more for old times' sake than out of necessity: seeing as there are no zombies around I feel relatively safe. I will probably move to a more discreet safe house here in the next day or so.

In other news, I have become relatively proficient at reviving zombies. It takes a little bit of patience, but I can now scan and revive the undead. Why scan? As I found out relatively quickly, there are many zombies who cannot be revived by conventional means...my DNA extractor informs me that a revive is not advised due to damaged brain tissue. Consequently, I have been adeptly scanning zombies wherever I go before trying to revive them. Every once in a while I ran across a block or so that had been designated as a 'Revive Point' (per the graffiti) where I will try and revive as many as possible. It is important to note that my journey back to Penny Heights has taken much longer than it would have due to my scientific work. I am adding a new section to the beginning of my journal as of today: survivors revived. I like keeping track of these things I suppose. It feels good to be home. Tomorrow I am going to head north towards the Rothwell Building. I need to resupply my syringe stocks.

Another cycle of life and death. After travelling to the Rothwell Building and finding it in ruins, I ventured east across the suburb in search of both supplies and out of curiosity. I ended up repairing a few buildings along the way, and shooting up a zombie I found in a police dept. I misjudged how far I was away from Josephine, and as a result I ended up getting stuck in the Craddy Building, another NecroTech Facility. This is not the place that I wanted to spend the night, but I had no option. I came to blocks south of where I had died with that familiar ache in my bones and muscles. I was inside Josephine again in no time, and within a day or so I had completely recovered. I ventured over to Lumber Mall with hopes that the company there would be better than the damn weather (cold, sleety crap), only to find that there was no generators up and running. I spent a good part of the day searching for one to install, but I had no luck.

I began to teach other new survivors in the area how to do some of the very things I once learned: radio operation, construction, etc. It was fun to come full circle, in the sense that their eyes had the same awe-inspired look that I knew mine had so long ago. I laughed to myself as I strutted around the place, cleaning my shotguns, looking like some sort of war hero.

I ended up moving north towards the Rothwell Building again, but it was still ruined. The sun was beginning to go down, so I did not spend too much time battling the two zombies that were inside the building. I took a few well-placed shots, then hightailed it back to Josephine. I decided to spend the night in the neighboring Cracknell Towers in hopes I could meet a few others who weren't doctors, for a change. So here I am. Tomorrow I will do the rounds again, checking at the neighborhood revive points for waiting zombies, though I might try and retake the Rothwell Building. Until tomorrow.

Week of the 13th

The area around Josephine is under complete seige. I have not had time to write for a while, as all my efforts have been directed at both organizing and fighting for survival. Lumber Mall was the first to go a few days ago after a courageous battle with a small horde of undead outside. Many of the survivors here are unskilled with mall defense, and as a result they did not have to much of an idea of what to do. A good amount were unskilled, simply firing off rounds into the masses without aiming properly. Much ammunition was wasted. After many hours, it became apparent Lumber had fallen, and the majority of us retreated to the neighboring Cracknell Towers. We restrategized there, and decided to defend the hospital block of Odo and Josephine until everyone could be attended to by a doctor. Things were getting heavy, and there were many that needed to be treated. A great deal of greenhorn survivors found there way into the wards in the ensuing hours after the fall of Lumber, and I was busy attending to many of them. It was nice to have a hospital with power, as I was able to make more effective use of the limited medical equipment we had. I went through so many bloody robes in that short time.

I woke up the next day still exhausted from the previous to gunfire and yells coming from Odo. It had been broken in to and the people there were battling for their lives. I rushed over on a second floor gangway and hopped right into the action. There were only a few zombies in there, and the cleanup was easy. After rebuilding the barricades, I returned to Cracknell for the night. It was lit, but there was a large survivor presence inside, and the building was barricaded like a fortress. I scoped out the view around Cracknell as the sun was going down, and through the glare was able to see a number of zombies in the streets. I steadied myself, and began to scope out more subtle safehouses.

Today I woke up to both Josephine and Odo destroyed, but Lumber had been secured again. The lights were on in half the building, and I quickly searched for some more ammuntion after I beefed up the barricades in the northern half. I was able to about half-refill my usual stock, but I was quickly growing tired. I swear, this lack of proper nutrition is slowly killing me. As it stands, I am in an unlit office building to the north of lumber...can't quite see what the name of the place is though. It was cloudy today, so I am anticipating that it will not be so cold tonight. This is good, because I cannot recall the last time I haven't shivered myself to sleep...

We have been battling for control over the surrounding area for 5 days now. I am so tired that I can hardly write. Josephine, Odo, and Lumber have all fallen and been retaken many times over the past few days. As for me? I have taken up the yoke of resident doctor/ revive specialist. Searching for ammunition and blasting away at whatever zombies I saw got to be a little tiring, so I have elected to take a more behind-the-scenes role in this fight. I need to visit Lumber Mall to change clothes soon, as the blood of survivors has practically ruined all of my clothes. This is both unsanitary and disgusting. I am starting to smell.

In other news, the Rothwell Building is still in good shape. It is poorly staffed, but the barricades are up and the generator is full. I haven't had to use my tools for some time now, which isn't a bad thing. Apart from the occasional reinforcement of barricades, I have spent almost all my time trekking back and forth from the Rothwell Building to the revive points close to me, meticulously bringing fallen survivors back to life. I feel like this is a good use of my time, as the methodology of it keeps me sane. It is almost relaxing to have a routine again. I am going to shower tomorrow: we fixed the system that was set up here before after finding a few replacement sections of pipe. Shower + new clothes? Tomorrow will be great.

Week of the 27th

Two weeks have gone by since my last entry. Well, to be honest, not much has happened. I have been mostly running around the Josephine/ Lumber block repairing buildings, rebuilding barricades, and stocking up on ammunition whenever I can. I did get that shower I wanted (mentioned 2 weeks ago), but with the amount of labor I have been doing, I need another one ASAP. All the snow is long gone now, and the nights are not so cold anymore. I have taken up the job of heading expeditions to the local auto repair to find fuel cans. Without fuel, our radio communication is lost, and I feel like that would be a bad thing. Josephine has been under heavy siege lately, and the mob of zombies outside is growing. I think that it might be wise to let them sack the building and move on...but given the amount of lit building in the area, I don't think that this will prove to be a viable strategy. I am making new friends every day, though familiar faces are few and far between. This area is more or less my home, and I intend to maintain it as best I can. At least until another mob rolls through...then I am outta here for a while. Travelling the suburb has proven to be rewarding in many ways. Well, it's about lights out time. Gotta conserve that fuel...

March, 2011

Week of the 6th

Life continues as semi routine. I have taken up a true role as the attending doctor now, signing in at Josephine and taking the place as Head Doctor. I don't have too much to attend to, seeing as zombie presence in the area is limited. I spend most of my days scavenging medical supplies and trekking north to Rothwell to search for more syringes. It has become pretty repetitive work, to be honest, and that is why I have not been writing much. Today was different though. I made a huge breakthrough - while it was a disturbing one - in the story of how I ended up in the first place. This job has given me much time to explore the area at leisure, which leads me to the point of me writing: I finally found the place where my helicopter went down so many months ago.

I spotted the wreckage from the Rothwell building the other day as a random gleam of sunlight reflected off of the windshield of the ruined machine. I whipped out my binoculars, and sure enough, there it was. I set off right away, intent on finally figuring out more about my arrival in this place. I climbed down off of the rooftop I was on and set off on foot for the remainder of the distance to the crash site. I slowed as I approached it, hesitant to relive this experience. I grew quiet as I circled the crash site, and finally stopped when I reached the bay door - or what was left of it. There was a huge hole in the side of the craft that had shredded most of the cockpit and reduced the cabin to scorched steel. I paused for a moment, not wanting to believe it. The memory rushed back into my head like a tidal wave, and I dropped to my knees in the muddy grass: we had just crossed over the power station to the north, coincidentally the same one that I visited in my travels months ago. There was a crackle of military something over the radio, but the pilot muted the cabin radio before I could hear it. The roar of the propellers was too much, and I couldnt hear what he said back to the man on the radio. He suddenly swerved to the right, banking hard, and shot a flare out the window. A heat-seeking rocket flew below us, and exploded not far off. The pilot banked left next, but it was too late: the second rocket hit us square in the side. I remember grabbing the side of the chopper for support as we hurled towards the ground. My harness saved me from ejection only to fail a moment later. The last thing before the black was flying through the air out the side into a pile of rubble. No doubt my companions harnesses had done their job correctly, holding them in place as they were eaten alive by the swarm of undead that must have soon followed. That matched the man's story from when I first woke up. I felt the lump rising in my throat, and I could not fight it anymore. We had been shot down, betrayed, by our own military. I wept.

After a minute or so, I heard the familiar moan of the dead. They were closing in on me quick. Normally I would have made a tactical escape, but as my anger turned to rage I lost all semblance of caring. I drew both my pistols and wiped my bleary eyes on my sleeve. Execution style, I emptied my pistols. 12 bullets, 12 heads. I knew it would only keep them down for a few hours at most while this vile virus worked its reconstructive magic. I didn't care. I made my way back to Josephine in a somber mood. I had finally discovered the reason for my crash, but it had only opened the door to more questions. Why was I flying in here in the first place? Why were we shot down? What does it all mean?

I am sitting here after a hard evenings work - a greenhorn slipped trying to cross the cables into Josepehine and cut open his arm pretty bad. I had to stitch the poor kid up without any anesthetic or painkillers, but at least he'll live. Thanks to the power being on here I was able to at least make sure that the wound is sterilized and clean. Oh, and I have my own surgeon's apron now - one of the survivors here stitched my name into it. It's about the small things, right? It is raining like hell outside. At least that means there will be showers tomorrow.

Appendices

My Past Life

I will record here memories of my past life as I recall it, with hopes that one day I will be able to write a biography about myself, how I got here, and who I was in these pages

Talking with that man in the FD...he said something about an accident. I remember bits and pieces of the helicopter...the ride in...hmmm...
- Today I remembered more about the helicopter accident. There was a large explosion before we started to go down. More later
  - The reality of what happened to me has hit me like a tidal wave. That was a rocket that brought the helicopter down...I need to return to the crash site and look for more clues.
- I recognize the smokestacks above the power plant I am currently hiding in. I definitely saw them on the flight in
- Last night I had a strange dream, in which I was driving like a mad man. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew I had to go away. I kept passing exit signs, and each time I did, I felt pangs of guilt and a sense of...abandonment. But it wasn't me who was being abandoned...I can't remember anything else about it
Killing my first zombie was strange...I knew just how to swing the axe I found. The weight feels familiar
- While rinsing off today, I noticed a tattoo on the underside of my right arm. It is two fire axes crossed with the words "Local 51st" beneath them. I am starting to think I was a firefighter...
I saw an old picture in the hospital while searching for first aid supplies. There was a name on the bottom, in nearly illegible writing: "Michael". That name seems to ring a bell, though I do not know why
One of the women currently staying in Josephine with me reminds me of...something. I wish I could remember more about my previous life
- Another survivor I passed on my trip north to Dulston caught my attention. Beneath the dirt...the brown hair, blue eyes...did I have a wife before all this? There is no ring on my finger
  - Sitting around the fire tonight, I had a bit of a flashback while singing. There was a woman with blue eyes and brown hair. She was my wife. We used to sing that Christmas carol together every year. If only I could remember her name...or where we lived before this...

Important Places

Dullston

Home: ~~Working on it~~ Screw that place

Resources: Treweeke Mall

East Becktown

Resources: Caiger Mall

Havercroft

Resources: Ackland Mall

Penny Heights

Home: Josephine General Hospital

Resources: Lumber Mall

NecroTech Building: ~~The Rothwell Building~~ Destroyed

Santlerville

Home: Dowdney Mall NE

Resources: Dowdney Mall

Phone Mast: Heckworthy Towers

Shearbank

Resources: Stickling Mall

To Do List

~~Investigate the Rothwell Building~~
- Learn more about the manufacturing of syringes
~~Find some tools~~
~~Find a firearm~~
- ~~Target practice (!!!)~~
  - ~~More target practice~~
~~Find Binoculars~~
~~Learn how to operate a radio~~
~~Repair Stickling Mall~~ Shearbank is overrun
Get back to my Helicopter crash site in Penny Heights

Biograpghy

...

User:Bjornkarl

Contents

Foreward

Entries

November, 2010

Week of the 28th

December, 2010

Week of the 5th

Week of the 12th

Week of the 19th

Week of the 26th

January, 2011

Week of the 3rd

Week of the 9th

Week of the 16th

Week of the 23rd

Week of the 30th

February, 2011

Week of the 6th

Week of the 13th

Week of the 27th

March, 2011

Week of the 6th

Appendices

My Past Life

Important Places

To Do List

Biograpghy

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