April 13 1:24(?) AM
No sleep tonight. I'm exhausted and my eyes are faltering, but my mind refuses to ease. I've trekked at least fifteen miles today. My feet sting with blisters and my legs are exhausted. I avoided all Zed that I could. I did have to use one round... My guess is that I have about five shots left. I've learned from the dead, always save a bullet.
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April 12, 2042 10:47 PM
Not much to say. The amount of blood downstairs is staggering. I've used several more bullets, something i'm not proud I let myself do. More zed will be here tomorrow. Unfortunately it might be time to move. The stench coming from downstairs is nearly unbearable and I won't be able to burn em without attracting at least a hundred walkers. Anyway, I should sleep. I got one hell of a big day tomorrow.
April 12, 2042 9:14 AM
Nightmares ravaged my sleep again last night. The couple who held this journal were there. As were several other suicides that I have encountered...Including my wife. I was alone in a bar. I sat on a bar stool talking to a bartender that was there only metaphysically. I heard the shriek. A shriek that I have heard many times before. The sound that someone makes when getting bit. The shriek that torments me more than the souls of the undead that creep beneath me. The shriek that summarizes what no human can verbalize with words. It's a combination of horror, sadness, and a sense of loss. Instantly knowing as the teeth sink into your arm, that you are going to die. No fuckin matter what you do. No amputation, no medicine.
Many believe that they will go into a "berserker" like rage when they get bit, going out on a blaze of glory. That's not the situation. 9/10 bite victims I've encountered lose themselves before the infection even takes over. They are a shell of themselves. Crouched down in the fetal position, with inevitable tears stinging their eyes.
I heard the shriek and spun around. The bar no longer had tables. The floor was taken up with the bite victims i've seen, not the blaze of glory type. Sobs of pain and loss engulfed the room. I couldn't hear myself think. I stood up from my bar stool, and without thinking, waded into the mass of victims. They ignored me, they were solely focused on what afflicted them. Various gunshots began to surface from the crowd. With each gunshot the crying grew dimmer. I waded further and further into the crowd. Soon, there were no gunshots, and no sobs. Just death. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I was no longer in a bar. I was in a white room, unable to move. My wife sat curled in a ball in the corner wearing that same damn t-shirt and...she...
She asked me, "Why?". I couldn't move. I was completely paralyzed. "Why?!" She wailed again. A gun materialized in her hand. She shook her head disappointingly. She rose the gun to her temple, and with the gunshot I startled myself awake. I was drenched in sweat.
I can't lose my sanity. Keep the body moving. Don't think about the past. I will write again before the night ends.
I love you, my beautiful wife.
Many believe that they will go into a "berserker" like rage when they get bit, going out on a blaze of glory. That's not the situation. 9/10 bite victims I've encountered lose themselves before the infection even takes over. They are a shell of themselves. Crouched down in the fetal position, with inevitable tears stinging their eyes.
I heard the shriek and spun around. The bar no longer had tables. The floor was taken up with the bite victims i've seen, not the blaze of glory type. Sobs of pain and loss engulfed the room. I couldn't hear myself think. I stood up from my bar stool, and without thinking, waded into the mass of victims. They ignored me, they were solely focused on what afflicted them. Various gunshots began to surface from the crowd. With each gunshot the crying grew dimmer. I waded further and further into the crowd. Soon, there were no gunshots, and no sobs. Just death. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I was no longer in a bar. I was in a white room, unable to move. My wife sat curled in a ball in the corner wearing that same damn t-shirt and...she...
She asked me, "Why?". I couldn't move. I was completely paralyzed. "Why?!" She wailed again. A gun materialized in her hand. She shook her head disappointingly. She rose the gun to her temple, and with the gunshot I startled myself awake. I was drenched in sweat.
I can't lose my sanity. Keep the body moving. Don't think about the past. I will write again before the night ends.
I love you, my beautiful wife.
April 12, 2042 5:45 PM
Today was better. I awoke to stomach pangs that I haven't felt in a long time. All fluid and food that was left in my body had been thrown up last night. As I rose I was incredibly light headed, and not ready to fight the Zed that were, more than likely, in the downstairs of my current residence. So, I decided to sneak instead. Unfortunately my quiver was long out of arrows and I absolutely needed some protein. So reluctantly I grabbed my hunting rifle. Sneaking requires little physical strength, but my wits to be fully about me. I climbed out of my roost and snuck around the Zed that were infesting the area. There were five, I was correct in predicting the gunshots would attract them.
As I scanned my perimeter I noticed a bird, I'm not sure what type, possibly a chickadee, hiding in the trees above. Finding game bigger than your fist is beyond rare. The Maloan Caravan has taken most from this area of the Northeast. I successfully nicked it with a bullet from my pistol. It fell to the ground lifeless. I grabbed it and put it in my coat pocket. I had to move quickly before the Zed at my encampment encroached my position. As I traversed my way back to the rooftop, I noticed a large chunk of berries. I grabbed and pocketed them as well. No eating before validation. One more mistake and I was a dead man.
I climbed atop the roof I am currently residing on, vowing to clean the Zed that were several feet beneath me tomorrow. As I write now, I am eating the bird raw, similar to the way one would eat an apple. I wouldn't dare start a fire; especially with the amount of dead already in my immediate proximity. The berries turned out to not be poisonous and I ate the bushel in one bite. So now I let my body recover, feeling far better than I did the last couple days. Tomorrow I will have to deal with the threat below.
As I scanned my perimeter I noticed a bird, I'm not sure what type, possibly a chickadee, hiding in the trees above. Finding game bigger than your fist is beyond rare. The Maloan Caravan has taken most from this area of the Northeast. I successfully nicked it with a bullet from my pistol. It fell to the ground lifeless. I grabbed it and put it in my coat pocket. I had to move quickly before the Zed at my encampment encroached my position. As I traversed my way back to the rooftop, I noticed a large chunk of berries. I grabbed and pocketed them as well. No eating before validation. One more mistake and I was a dead man.
I climbed atop the roof I am currently residing on, vowing to clean the Zed that were several feet beneath me tomorrow. As I write now, I am eating the bird raw, similar to the way one would eat an apple. I wouldn't dare start a fire; especially with the amount of dead already in my immediate proximity. The berries turned out to not be poisonous and I ate the bushel in one bite. So now I let my body recover, feeling far better than I did the last couple days. Tomorrow I will have to deal with the threat below.
April 11, 2042 9:12 PM
The mission for food was a failure, I am currently nurished less than I was earlier. While I was avoiding a small group of Zed I stumbled on a small patch of berries. Not even thinking I grabbed some...
Shit. I'm still feeling the effects now. It was European Holly. Being the idiot that I am, I didn't chek what kind of berries they were. I can hardly see the page that I am writng on right now. I have to gather myself, if I don't find some small nourishment I'm a dead man. You might find this journal sooner than expected.
Shit. I'm still feeling the effects now. It was European Holly. Being the idiot that I am, I didn't chek what kind of berries they were. I can hardly see the page that I am writng on right now. I have to gather myself, if I don't find some small nourishment I'm a dead man. You might find this journal sooner than expected.
April 11, 2042 12:12 PM
Several zed had breached the downstairs of the house I'm currently residing in. Nothing unusual. I dispatched them quickly. Two rounds were used; this gun is much louder than I'm used to. Zed will have heard the shots. More will show up tomorrow. As of now I'm going hunting, I haven't had fair nourishment in...36 hours.
April 11, 2042 7:12 AM
I had an unusually peaceful nights sleep. No nightmares of the dead couple, no seeing my wife die, no hands of the dead grasping at me. Oddly enough that worries me... Although I despise the nightmares that haunt my sleep, they make me feel sane. That I still have feelings, even when feelings in this world are a curse...I should check my perimeter, I'll write soon.
April 10, 2042 9:48 PM
I found a journal and a pen today. Found is probably not the proper phrasing...scavenged, would fit more justly. The couple I found it on had shot themselves, not an uncommon occurrence in this existence. The woman had been bit, the man was fine; from a physical standpoint at least. Living in this world without another can not be done for some. I can say I've put a gun to my temple on multiple occasions, fuck if I know why I decide to still fight.
I should explain myself. My name is Gabriel Tranas. I am a survivor, not unlike yourself if you're reading this. My money is put on the fact that you found this journal sometime on my dead body, maybe with a bullet hole in my head...My inevitable death is something I came to terms with months ago. Hopefully, my ramblings during my waning days in Apocolyptia will keep you sane in these dark times; for another few "precious" hours.
The last bit of light has drained from the land and I am now writing, solely, from the light of the stars. I should begin to wrestle myself to sleep, before the groans reach my ears.
-Gabe
I should explain myself. My name is Gabriel Tranas. I am a survivor, not unlike yourself if you're reading this. My money is put on the fact that you found this journal sometime on my dead body, maybe with a bullet hole in my head...My inevitable death is something I came to terms with months ago. Hopefully, my ramblings during my waning days in Apocolyptia will keep you sane in these dark times; for another few "precious" hours.
The last bit of light has drained from the land and I am now writing, solely, from the light of the stars. I should begin to wrestle myself to sleep, before the groans reach my ears.
-Gabe
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