Journals of the Damned

brains blown out the side of her head while she was otherwise "occupied".

  She was too quick for me to shoot then, by the time I switched from the binoculars to the hunting rifle with the scope she had gone around the corner of the building. I tried to follow her through the scope but that proved impossible. I only caught short glimpses of her as she made her way inside the Publix. After about twenty minutes she returned carrying a basket full of what looked to be batteries. I didn't see her make her way back, the Post Office almost completely blocks my view of the supermarket. When I did see her again I only had a few sparse seconds to make the shot and in that time she quickly went back inside to safety.

  So I waited. I waited for hours after dark before I made my way to the rear door of the post office. The door was locked again. I didn't have the tools to pick the lock but there was a gap between the door and the frame. Even in the slight moonlight I could see the latch. I was sweating like a pig in the cold night air as I jimmied the latch open with two thin steak knives I had pilfered from a nearby house.

  As I opened the door I was more nervous than I ever remember having been in my life. My sweaty hands shook and I held the rifle so tightly in my hands that my knuckles hurt from the strain. I expected her to find me breaking in and wished I had a shotgun with me instead of the rifle. The rifle was unwieldy and I set it down to draw out my handguns.

  I crouched there waiting for my eyes and ears to adjust to the interior gloom. There was the flickering of light and an odd moaning coming from a closed office at the other end of the mail sorting room. There was more than one person's voice in the moans and it unnerved the hell out of me. As I slowly crept closer to the room, I could make out, through the half open venetian blinds covering a large window, a whole wall full of television sets. I was momentarily stunned when my brain told me what my disbelieving eyes were seeing. There had to be twenty or so TV's in there and they were all hooked up to separate DVD and VCR players. All of them were playing a different show. All of them were porn. There was some really nasty stuff being played, of a bunch of different types. The mixed sound of moans and dirty talk was all blurred together and it sounded completely bizarre to my ears.

  The woman was laying on some dirty mattress, legs spread wide, as she furiously rammed the largest dildos in and out her holes that I had ever seen.

  I couldn't help myself from staring at her as she fondled herself and masturbated. It took me a minute before I remembered what I had come here for and raised my weapons and shot her through the window.

  She died instantly. My first shot spewed her brains on the wall.

  I entered the room and shot her again, making more than sure she wouldn't rise up from the dead to hunt me down after death.

  I was embarrassed for the damned woman. I covered her body and turned off all the sets. At least she didn't die in fear or in any physical pain.

  I was even too embarrassed to tell Allan how I found her when I killed her.

  I did a check of the building and found some really disturbing shit. There were six pickle jars, without the pickles, stacked in the room with her. In the greenish vinegar there floated what could only be castrated male penises and balls. One set per jar. I have no idea what she did that for and to tell the truth I didn't want to know.

  In the front lobby there was a dozen decomposing human heads set up along the counter. All of the heads were female and had fresh makeup applied to them. Lipstick, mascara and the whole nine yards, even their hair was done up nicely. I was creeped out to no end.

  I would rather be dead and a zombie than have to exist in a state of insanity that drives people to do things like that. Killing her was a blessing in my view.

  Now we've set up shop in the Publix, making it secure as we can. Thank the Gods I don't have to eat rice and dog food again tonight.

  Wednesday, September 18, 2013

  I realize it's been over six months since I wrote in this journal. I had intended to write something occasionally, at least once a month but I really didn't have anything to write about. I could have made little entries here and there but I kept putting it off. The days blended into weeks and the weeks turned into months. What spurred me to write again was when I checked my watch and saw the date. It's been a full year since the first outward signs of the "Scarlet" started showing on people. A year since the parasite formed colonies in their human hosts and killed them. A year after the single celled plague named "Toxoplasmosa Mondus Omni" started resurrecting the dead flesh of its victims.

  In a few weeks it will be the first anniversary of my mother and sister's and all of my family and friends death. And not just them. Ninety percent of everyone who ever lived died. Add the seventy percent of all the animals of the mammal order, and all the animals who starved when their food died or were attacked and the world seems a dead place.

  Birds, insects, fish and reptiles are still around but I have yet to spot a single squirrel. I sometimes hear the barking of dogs but even that is rare.

  The town is quiet. Allan and I are the only people here among the unused and abandoned buildings.

  Occasionally there comes the undead to disturb our solitude. They come singly and in small groups. There hasn't been any problem in dealing with them besides lowering our stock of ammo.

  Food is starting to get short. The "Red" I had to hunt down and kill had a huge stock of food stashed away in the Post Office, obviously she had looted the town and stored it for herself. The Publix, which normally would have held a huge quantity for two people to eat, held barely as much as the "Red" had gathered. The food shortage and supply problems that the parasite caused is to blame for that. As it is, we have burned through most of it. Not that we've been eating like pigs, just the opposite. We've been rationing our food but still in another month or so we're going to have to go out and do some scavenging in nearby towns for food.

  On a side note, I searched and searched the Post Office and the surrounding buildings trying to figure out how the infected and insane woman had been getting past the horde of zombies. I still can't figure it out. There is no secret passage or tunnel, no way to go from rooftop to rooftop or anything like that. I'm missing something here and it bothers me from time to time.

  We've taken residence in a rather large house, big enough so that for days Allan and I never even see each other.

  I spend a lot of my time reading while Allan spends endless hours playing mindless games on an X-Box and a Playstation 3.

  I get lonely. Allan may be a friend but he can't fill the void I feel. I think he feels the same way towards me. He hasn't made any advances sexually towards me, not that it bothers me. We're from different generations and if it weren't for the current situation we would never have even talked to each other except in passing.

  Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and it feels as if I can sense the ghosts of the dead all around me. It's not a threatening feeling, how do I explain it? It's as if they miss the world and the families they left behind. It's as if they still can't comprehend how everything ended so quickly and are saddened to see their flesh, which they left behind, still walking around with such a horrible intent.

  Thursday, October 24, 2013

  I had a dream this morning. It was the absolute worst dream I have ever had in my life. I can't imagine having a more disturbing dream if I live to be a hundred years old. It was an omen. The day went bad before noon. I dreamt that I had died and had turned into one of the walking dead. The hunger I felt while I wandered the earth was relentless and overpowering. It was a vile craving for human flesh that could not be satisfied no matter how many people I assaulted and sunk my teeth into. My victims screamed in agony and begged God to save them, all I felt as I bit down on their soft flesh was how good the warm blood felt and tasted. The last part of the dream, the part that forced me to awaken from the nightmare, was by far the worst. I dreamed that I had come across a baby, still in its crib. I dreamed that I ripped open its belly with my teeth and proceeded to eat its intern
al organs. My hunger was eternal and even after I was full I still gorged myself on it. I ate all of the helpless infant, when it died and stopped its crying I only felt relief that the thing finally shut up.

  I felt physically sick when I woke from the dream. I puked until my gut hurt from the strain and then I puked some more.

  I know it was just a dream. I still feel horrified and guilty over it. I feel as though I have committed the gravest of sins just for dreaming such an evil thing.

  Night is starting to fall and I still feel nauseous.

  No longer are we still in that small deserted town. Now we're somewhere in Ocala after having been found and pursued by an infected band of murdering raiders. We barely escaped with our lives.

  I spent the early hours of the morning eating Tums by the handful and sipping on some tea to try and quell my rebelling stomach. When Allan saw me he noticed the look on my face and asked me if I was O.K. I told him I had a cold or maybe a touch of food poisoning but I would be fine.

  Food was the last thing on my mind but not Allan's. Our supply was almost exhausted and we had been doing some hunting to supplement it. I told Allan I was going to stay inside today and take it easy so I wouldn't be joining him on the hunt. We never had a lot of luck, the