I was going to clean myself up and shower, but I decided to dig out the generator from the garage instead. It was in the back under some boxes and covered with a tarp. When I removed the cover I expected the worst. I wasn’t disappointed. The generator looked like it had been built during WWI.
I dragged it out to the entrance of the garage anyway to see if it was serviceable. I went into the house, got my tools and my iPod in its docking station, went back out, and sat down on the driveway.
As I was pulling the spark plugs out of the generator and listening to Buffalo Springfield sing “For What it’s Worth”, I heard a crash from over the fence in my neighbor’s yard, followed by footsteps. I held my breath, silently cursing myself when I realized my 1911 pistol was inside on the kitchen table.
Suddenly, the fence near me lurched violently and I heard someone slam into the other side. Whoever it was hit the fence full force again. The blood in my veins turned to ice when whoever it was emitted a low, wailing moan.
I saw hands reach up over the fence and paw at the top. Then I heard the sounds of another person running across my neighbor’s yard and then a second body hit the fence like a linebacker. The fence lurched again and I thought for a moment it might topple, but it held.
I sat frozen with fear as both bodies took turns slamming into the fence. I carefully set the wrench I was holding down onto the driveway, turned off the iPod, and quietly made my way to the kitchen door. As I stepped up onto the back steps to the kitchen, I could see the two figures in my neighbor’s yard.
They were a Hispanic man and woman, both grimy and disheveled. The woman’s clothes were torn and her naked breasts were exposed. The man looked like he had been run over by a lawn mower.
They both stepped back and looked at me over the fence, their milky eyes full of rage. The woman moaned again and the man bared his yellowed teeth at me. They both renewed their assault on the fence, trying to get at me. I was sickened with fear but realized I had to take care of them or they would eventually knock down the fence.
I retrieved my shotgun and walked back out into the garage with purpose, ignoring the banging on the fence. I slung the weapon over my shoulder, pulled out a ladder, and carried it to the far side of the garage, leaning it against the wall.
I scaled the ladder up onto the garage roof and walked across. I looked down and over the fence at the two people, put the shotgun’s stock to my shoulder and took aim at the man. They both looked up at me simultaneously and started moving toward me, reaching up.
The man, in his eagerness, stepped too close to the edge of the pool in the yard and fell in, making a racket as he hit the water. He sank like a stone, thrashing about as he went to the bottom of the deep end.
I took aim at the woman and squeezed the trigger. The 00 buckshot hit her between the breasts and knocked her flat on her back. She got right back up and charged toward me. I had a moment of sadness as I racked another round into the chamber, not because I had to shoot her, but because I could no longer deny what I was facing.
I aimed for her head and touched off another round. The shot load disintegrated her face and she dropped to the ground instantly. I didn’t stop to admire my handiwork because even with my ears ringing I could hear multiple footsteps running up the street toward my house.
I practically jumped down from the roof into my yard and bolted for my kitchen door. I shut the door and locked the deadbolt, for once getting my business taken care of ahead of the adrenaline shakes. I looked over to see Chloe shivering like a leaf and cowering under the kitchen table. I knew how she felt. I walked silently to the front living room and peeked out of the curtains. About a dozen of Them wandered in the street, sniffing the air, and looking about frantically.
I stepped away from the window and sat down on the floor, listening to them mill about for over an hour. They finally settled down and wandered away. I thought about what I had done. I was pretty impressed with myself that I hadn’t hesitated in the heat of the moment, seeing as how it was the first time I had ever actually shot anyone.
I replayed the incident over and over in my mind, skillfully avoiding the one important truth I needed to face.
“They’re sick.” I thought. “Crazy. It’s because there’s no law around, that’s why they’re acting that way. I’ll be able to justify my actions when everything gets back on track. Hell, I can probably just say I don’t know what happened to them. After all, it’s not like there were any witnesses around.”
Round and round my mind went. Then slowly, in the gathering darkness, the truth crawled out at me, forcing itself to my consciousness so that I couldn’t avoid it any longer.
Things were never going to be normal ever again. That’s because the “rabies epidemic” was just a colorful euphemism for “we don’t know what the hell happened but people are dying and coming back as zombies.”
“Welcome to 28 Days Later and the Night of the living Dead.” I said to myself. “Not so fun in real life, is it?”
I managed to get to the kitchen sink before I threw up. I felt dizzy, like I was trapped in a nightmare and couldn’t wake up. Like I was breathing under water and struggling against some invisible embrace, and all I had to do was open my eyes and realize that I was tangled up in my sheets from too much thrashing about in my dreams.
I felt a gibbering madness creeping around the edges of my sanity. I think I actually giggled a little. My mind started sliding into the abyss…
I guess I’ll never know for certain, but I’m pretty sure my mind just shut down at some point. My next recollection was of sitting on my kitchen floor with my arms wrapped tightly around myself, shivering. Chloe was lying down in front of me, a look of grave concern on her face.
It was dark outside. The kitchen clock on the wall ticked monotonously. It read 4:27am. In the distance, several blocks away, I could hear a car alarm wailing faintly. Chloe’s opinion of my little freak out was clear. She had defecated on the kitchen floor again and finished it off with a urine chaser.
I slowly got up and stretched my stiff muscles. My mind felt numb as I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the bathtub, plugging the drain. As the steam rose off the water and the bathroom warmed up, I began to let go and relax.
I stripped down and threw my stiff, dirty clothes into a pile. Goose bumps surfaced on my flesh as I lowered myself into the scalding hot water. As soon as I could stand it, I submerged my body up to my neck and let out a long sigh. I turned the water off and closed my eyes, listening as the last drops from the faucet plopped onto the surface of the water.
Silence filled the room.
As I soaked in the warmth from the water, I thought to myself, “Enough screwing around. Tomorrow you pull your shit together and come up with a plan.”
DAY 9
I felt a little better when I woke up this morning.
It’s amazing what a decent night’s sleep can do for a person’s disposition. I’m still scared as hell, but that’s because I don’t have a game plan yet. I spent most of the morning just getting this journal up to speed. It has helped to write all this down. From here on out I will be consistent with my journal entries (I hope).
My house was a mess. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before now. After making a decent breakfast I washed a week’s worth of dishes, took out the trash again, and scrubbed the kitchen floor. I also cleaned and sanitized my bathtubs and toilet tanks. Never know when I might need to use them to hold additional drinking water.
I armed myself, and Chloe and I walked the perimeter inside my property. It’s been just dumb luck that I’ve survived until now. The gate to my walkway has been unlocked this whole time. I made a list of all the immediate repairs that are needed if I am going to fortify this place. I’m also going to have to barricade access to my neighbor’s back yards on either side of me. I don’t want to have another incident like what happened yesterday.
I saw two military jets fly overhead at one point, but other than that it’s been pretty quiet so far.
I looked over the fence earlier to check on the guy who fell into the pool. There was no sign of him. He must have made it to the shallow end and got out. The woman’s body is still there.
I will have to do something about that as well. I’ll probably dump her in the same place I dump this piece of crap generator sitting on my driveway. I checked the mailbox; nothing there. I guess the post office’s motto doesn’t cover pandemics.
No more mail is sort of good news, bad news. The good news is that I won’t be paying bills anymore. The bad news is that I won a couple of items on eBay two weeks ago…pretty sure I won’t be receiving them at this point.
I went up on my roof to get a better view of my neighborhood. Dale and Margie’s car is still in their driveway with the door and trunk open. I didn’t see any signs of my neighbors, or anyone else, for that matter. I wasn’t close to any of them, but it’s spooky to think that I might be the only person on my block who is still alive. I heard running footsteps at the end of my street. As soon as people appeared I ducked down and quietly got off the roof.
My house is finally in order and I have several lists of priorities I need to consider. Tomorrow I will barricade off access on either side of me. I will need to deal with the issue of gas, water, and power as well.
Those things won’t stay on forever. I am kicking myself for not picking up a propane heater and stove when I was at Ken’s last week. There’s a lot to do, but it looks like I’ve got a lot of time on my hands.
DAY 10
I was surfing through the TV stations this morning and found public access channel 56 was broadcasting.
It was a news report, of sorts. It looked pretty amateur. Some guy named Gerald Ritchie was reporting on conditions around the Los Angeles area. He was down in Inglewood on top of a building panning the camera around that area of the city. There were sporadic fires and destruction everywhere. The plague victims were running rampant. It reminded me of the Rodney King riots.
He reported that there are three evacuation centers locally. One is in Pasadena, one is in Thousand Oaks, and one is at the UCLA athletic field. The broadcast cut to file footage of fences, barricades, and military personnel around the UCLA field.
The footage was taken from outside the secured area. At one point several hundred of Them rushed a section of the fence. Multiple geysers of flame shot out from behind the fence, scorching the attackers to a cinder.
Gerald’s voice came over the images and warned that while the evacuation centers are secured and relatively safe, once civilians enter the facility, they are not allowed to leave. Military helicopters were taking off and landing constantly. Gerald continued to say that in an interview with a FEMA representative, he was told that there are plans to set up permanent facilities in the Mohave Desert and North Eastern California.
The scene went back to Gerald, now running down a city street toward a waiting van, his cameraman following and panning back toward a pack of Them in pursuit. They both made it to the van where a woman was in the driver’s seat, waiting. The van door slammed shut and the van took off. The cameraman was upended by the acceleration but quickly centered on Gerald again.
Gerald grinned and spoke to the camera. “This is Gerald Ritchie, reporting live from Inglewood. I’ll be back on the air tomorrow and every day at 12 noon. So until then, don’t give up, ‘cause you ain’t alone out there”.
I heard the cameraman whoop in triumph and Gerald’s hand went off camera to high five his companion. The signal stopped broadcasting. I stood in front of the TV in stunned silence. My clock read 1:06 pm. Gerald and his crew seem fearless. I think I have a new hero.
I went to work this afternoon with a renewed sense of purpose. I don’t feel so alone anymore. I armed myself and quietly went over my back fence into Dale and Margie’s yard next door. The gate to their driveway was secured. That only left their front door.
I couldn’t get in through the back, which meant that I had to climb over their gate and go to the front of the house. I had planned to just shut and lock their front door, but I got curious and cautiously stepped inside. The smell was horrid. I let my CAR 15 hang on its single-point sling and drew my 1911 Colt. It was better for close quarters and I was confident of its stopping capabilities.
Their house was silent. As I rounded the corner into their kitchen, I saw a body lying on the kitchen floor. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. Brownish dried blood was everywhere. It was Margie, definitely dead. Her arm, shoulder, and portions of her back were eaten away.
I checked my six and moved back down the hall to the bedrooms. Two of them were open and I checked them first. No sign of anyone.
The door to the middle bedroom was closed. I turned the knob and opened it, stepping to the edge of the doorframe as I did so. The rotten smell hit me immediately. Just as I was about to enter the room, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, coming from the closet.
Before I could even react I heard a crash, and something shot past me in a blur.
I heard scraping and skittering across the hardwood floors in the hallway as something retreated up the hall. I turned in time to see Dale and Margie’s German Shepherd, Max, go tearing out the front door.
F---ing dog! Even from just a glimpse, I could tell he was just skin and bones. I could have taken a shot at him (should have, because I’ll probably have to deal with him at some point later), but held my fire.
My heart was threatening to leap out of my throat. When I finally calmed down enough, I checked the rest of the rooms; nothing. I went to the front to make sure I hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention and then secured the front door behind me as I left.
It is only 3:30pm right now but I’ll check the other neighbor’s house tomorrow. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.
DAY 11
I think I’m starting to get a cold.