Authors: Gregg Cocking
You can’t believe how good this feels! All my life I have struggled with anything remotely technical, but now, under such tough circumstances I have managed to prosper. Now if I just had about 50 more solar powered ‘rocks’ I could maybe watch TV…
The only other major way that losing power could have affected me was my bathing routine – well, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t really bath – no need for it really – but I assure you that I don’t stink. I have been washing with cold water since day one (well, day one of this whole sad, sick scenario, that is), so I’ve gotten used to not using hot water.
Take care
Sam W
4: 18pm, June 3
Hi all. Sorry that I didn’t post anything yesterday – the truth is I didn’t have any news. I did some scouring of the internet and, believe it or not, I found another blog, much like mine, from a guy in Sandringham, probably just four or five kilometres away as the crow flies (about seven kilometres if he miraculously learns how to drive). I could tell you all about it, but that would take time (and power) that I don’t have too much of, and why not just hear it from the horse’s mouth. (What’s with all the animal proverbs today?) Anyways, lets carry on – here’s a post of his from the twenty ninth of May – I just mailed him, so will let you know what happens. (Oh, whenever you see brackets, that’s me, just filling you in on bits that I read in previous entries to his blog). It’s a bit long, but it’s worth reading – I love Ctrl + C, Ctrl + V!
“I have been watching their numbers dwindle over the last few days and now only the ‘four regulars’ seem to be coming down to drink. (This guy lives in a townhouse complex overlooking the Royal Johannesburg & Kensington golf club – from the sounds of it, he is in an upstairs duplex – I think that means that below his double storey is a single storey garden unit. I think). (Me again... apparently he overlooks one of the waterholes... wish I had met this guy before this happened, sounds like a great spot for a sundowner or eight). The overweight Tiger Woods lookalike is looking a bit worse for wear – his nice black cardigan jersey that he has been wearing the past few weeks must have eventually got caught on something (or stolen by one of the others?) (That wasn’t me – he also uses brackets every now and again. Sorry). But, however, it came off, the poor dude must be freezing his fucking arse off ‘cause its shit cold (Okay, I’ll stop this soon – he swears a lot – my apologies in advance). Tiger’s mates, the greying thin guy who I call Mr. Burns from the Simpsons episodes, the Roseanne Barr double and the kid, who I call, very cleverly I might fucking add, The Kid, all graced me with their grotesque presence just after lunch. I watched them trying to catch a squirrel for hours – I wish I had had a fucking camera ‘cause that shit would have made America’s Funniest Home Videos. If that crap is still running. In fact, what the fuck happened to Bob Saggett? Is he a fucking zombie now? If not, I’ll volunteer to make him one.
But these four misfits couldn’t catch herpes in a whorehouse. After a while I saw them chowing on grass again – I think that’s why they hang around the golf course – the world’s best manicured garden, over fucking acres, at their filthy fucking fingertips.
I have been contemplating eventually killing them like I have the others that had come down to feed (yeah... this guy’s been shooting them from his balcony. Turns out that he was able to get his hands on a sniper rifle from a botched evacuation attempt in the area, and he has been systematically culling them as they come down to mercilessly feed on the other ones that he has killed), but fucking insane as it might sound, I think I’m actually becoming quite attached to those scabby fuckers. But you never know, Tiger might piss me off any minute and I’ll blow his chubby head off. Hahaha.
But okay, there’s been no action around these parts for ages – I heard a car screaming past three days ago, but just seconds later I heard the sound of crushed metal. Whoever had been behind the wheel was now probably through the windscreen. A handful of zombies, fucking out of range, made their way towards where the sounds had come from, so I doubt, even if the dude in the car survived the crash, that he would have got far after sending out a fucking direct email to all the zombies. “Hey, I’m here. I can’t walk and I’m bleeding from my head. Come get me if you can!”
(I forgot – this guy, his name is Chris by the way – also ran out of power, but according to an earlier entry, his townhouse complex had a back-up generator which was used to power the electric gates and the lighting around the complex. When the power died, he ran a cable from his house to the generator, disconnected the gates and the lights, and siphoned all the diesel from the cars in the complex – these fucking slutty housewives in their diesel guzzling 4X4’s, I doubt they’ve ever parked on the fucking pavement, never mind crossed a river or driven up a fucking sand dune. As you probably guessed from the swearing, those were his words. So he collected diesel from all the cars available to him, and he estimates that on his limited usage, including a cup of coffee a day – the bastard! I’m dying for a fix of caffeine – he should be powered for at least another two or three months).
Other than that, I haven’t heard a car or seen any living people since Marc went fucking loco and decided to go try find help 9 days ago. He just went mental, fucking loony, and I almost had to bottle the dude just to shut him up. “I’m enjoying this as much as you are, but fuck... we can’t go out there,” I said. But he did. And he hasn’t come back. I hope to fuck that he got rescued, but if he did, why the fuck haven’t they come for me yet? But hey, it was his choice, and although I only knew him as my fucking neighbour before this – y’know how neighbours are... “hi,” “hi.” But if you spend enough time in a small place with someone you get to like them I guess, and hey, Mr and Mrs... Fuck, I didn’t ever get the dudes last name… Well, Marc’s mom and dad, I’m sorry. I tried to stop him going out there, but from the short time I spent with him, and I am sure you know this yourself, Marc was a very head strong little fucker...
On the bright side, I don’t have to go out looking for food for a bit longer – for a small dude he sure ate a lot. I’ve still got a fuckload of canned food, and even if I have two a day I’ll have enough to last me two weeks. It’s the diesel that’s gonna fuck me over though. I know all these bitches around here drive fucking Porsche or Beamer 4X4’s, but even once I find them it takes a good five minutes to drain the tank – I don’t want to be out in the open for that long, even if I have my trusted rifle with me. But I’ll worry about that when I gotta worry about that. For now I’m just trying to find ways to stop myself turning my fucking rifle on myself and firing – fuck, it’s boring by yourself and without TV. I’ve read basically every magazine and book that Marc and I had, and I’m fucking thinking of going on a book finding mission tomorrow if I can’t find anything else to do. I’d even do a fucking puzzle if I had one.
I have been trying to find some signs of life on the hill across and over the golf course – Linksfield Hill I think it’s called. I’d only been living in this part of town for two months after moving here from Pretoria when the zombies started arriving. But Marc and I managed to steal his next door neighbour’s telescope by jumping over the balcony, and I only started using it now that he’s gone cos he would hog it all the fucking time. The houses on the hill are probably two kilometres away, maybe, but this fucking thing lets me look right into the rooms! Usually there’s nothing to see (but imagine this a month or two ago when the world wasn’t fucked? I think Marc’s next door neighbour was spying on people – better than a fucking porno man!) As I was saying, there’s usually not much to see – empty lounges, empty bedrooms, empty kitchens, but every now and again there’ll be something. Like the dead girl on the upper balcony of the grey mansion all the way on the left of the hill. She wasn’t there two days ago, I swear.
It looks like a seriously sweet pad – I can count seven rooms, a large pool with a Jacuzzi and outdoor braai next to it, two lounges, both with flat screens the size of a taxi, private balconies for each room and a zombie covered in fucking blood. I’m sure they wouldn’t mention him if the house was advertised in the property section. But he’s there alright. Dead girl can attest to that. I’ve caught glimpses of this zombie from various rooms and it seems like he is trying to get out – maybe the dead girl on the top balcony was attacked and managed to get out and lock her zombie friend in the house before she died. Fuck, I’m glad I didn’t see this all happening.
But now zombie boy, a tall, fucking buff dude in a white Bad Boy vest, spends the whole day going from room to room, window to window, door to fucking door trying to get out. There’s blood smears on most of the windows. Idiot doesn’t know how to operate a window latch or a door handle! Fucking noodle. If my rifle would reach all that way I’d put him out of his fucking misery.
So back to the girl. All I can see is the top of her head – she was a blonde by the way – her shoulders, one of which has a nasty bite wound, and her one leg stretched out, half covered by a blue, white and red floral skirt. I guess it could be a cross-dressing fucking dude, but I doubt it. A few weeks ago I had never seen a dead person. Now they’re fucking everywhere, some moving about, others just fucking lying there. It’s not fucking pretty.
Its Sam back now. So after reading his blog I emailed him – here’s the first correspondence:
Original message:
From:
Sam Ward [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent:
02 June 2011 01:25 PM
To:
[email protected]
Subject:
Hi there – We’re both alive
Hi,
I hope that you are still receiving mails... My name is Sam, Sam Ward, and I came across your blog on the internet – it sounds like we are pretty much in the same boat. I am alone in a townhouse in Edenvale, well, Edenglen to be specific – Hampton Court on Erasmus Road. And like you, my complex seems to be deserted, apart from the odd zombie here or there (I call them ‘the infected’ – I have no clue what’s happened to them, but it doesn’t seem like they can rise from the dead).
Well, anyways, I just wanted to let you know that I am out here – just down the road really in case you don’t know the area too well, I believe that you are originally from Pretoria. Well, hope you get this, and let’s keep in touch. If you wanna know anything about the infected in my area, let me know. For now I am secure, but who knows what the future holds... maybe we’ll have to hook up some time in the future.
Cool – take care,
Sam Ward
Checked by AVG -
www.avg.com
Version: 8.5.387 / Virus Database: 270.13.7/2222 - Release Date: 03/03/09 17:54:00
From:
Chris
Sent:
02 June 2011 04:22 PM
To:
Sam Ward
Subject:
Re: Hi there – We’re both alive
Fuck, no ways! I can’t believe it man! I haven’t heard from anyone in weeks. Yeah, I’m alive and well, bored out of my fucking tree, but I can handle that. It’s better than being fucking dead, that’s for sure. Hey, whatever the fuck you call them, zombies, the infected, deadies, either way, I’ve seen some sick shit from up here. There are a couple that hang around the area surviving on rats, ducks, squirrels, whatever they can get their fucking hands on really. I’ve even seen them picking at shit and eating flowers. But the worst man is them eating themselves. Not biting their own fingers off, but eating other zombies. I’ve killed plenty of them, shot them in the head with a rifle that I’ve found, and the others just fucking eat them. It’s horrible.
But hey, if you want to come around here you are more than welcome man. I sort of have an idea where Edenvale is – I think I’ve been to a pub there a couple of times. But if you get bored over there and want to risk going outside, I’ve got power, I’ve got plenty of food and I’ve got a great fucking view of the golf course!
Seriously though man, what the fuck do you think is going on? Are we on our own? What’s happened to the army and the police (I’ve killed a couple of zombies in police uniforms over the last week)? What can we do? I don’t mention it on my blog, but fuck, I’m taking strain. Is this the end of the world?
Keep in touch
Chris
So yeah, he’s holed up in his place and I am holed up in mine – at least I know that someone else is going through what I am on a daily. Shit, the lights on the UPS have start
7:53pm, June 4
Sorry about that abrupt end to my post yesterday – I was basically just closing off when the UPS died. All I was going to say is that Chris’ last paragraph voiced my concerns… are we just holding off the inevitable end? Well, as long as I still have my family and Lil out there, I won’t give up. Okay, that’s it for now, conserving the power as it was a bit overcast today (and damn cold again).