I'm a murderer.
I'm sitting here in the school's main office. I'm lying on my back on a chair, my legs are stacked up vertically against the wall. My heart hurts if I lower myself to a proper sitting position. My thoughts are so disorganized and my brain feels unbelievably scattered.
But my breaths are as steady as could be.
The elder dude from two days earlier, the same dude who I talked to in the yard and explained where I was, is standing on the other side of the office's counter, in the reception area. His hands are tucked in fists into his pockets. He's been staring out the office window into the night for awhile now. Every once in awhile, he'll curse softly.
And there are two more ex-prisoners with us here, in this room. A Hispanic middle aged bald dude and a white dude who looks to be in his early thirties. He's dressed in all black and he looks like a faggot.
They introduced themselves earlier, after it was over, but I can't remember their names now. Not for awhile. My thoughts are in too many places, in too many times. And it hurts.
There's another survivor besides us, but she's not in the room with us. She can't stand to be around men. She's the girl the Bandits raped. The girl who's fiancee was brutally tortured and slaughtered but bought me my chance at freedom. She's in the principal's office now, the room farthest from the infirmary, where they held her. I can hear her tears, we all can, but we can't comfort her. We can't even comfort ourselves.
A heatwave has struck the area as of late but it still seems as if it might rain. Not really, there are no clouds in the sky, but I can see them there. Dark clouds brewing and blowing amongst us. Over us. Pouting anguish into our hearts.
And every scream that sounds from outside, every Freak that wails its monstrous call, is another lightning strike in this storm. A forceful reminder that pulls us from the safety of our minds and pushes the real world's horrors among us.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to go back. Back to last night.
I had been hiding inside the southern building's boy's bathroom throughout the day. Taking careful note of the Bandit's positions around the school and the manner in which they handled their security and barricades. And it wasn't too shabby, but careful examination revealed quite a few weak spots among their security. Of course, recognizing weaknesses and putting the information to actual use are two concepts worlds apart.
Then of course, at around evening, the cell phone rang. The same cell phone that I'd stolen off the Bandit's corpse who'd been killed before me the night before.
It rang three times before I opened it in numb surprise and answered with a dull, listless "Hello?".
And to my surprise, a female voice answered. Courteously, she asked, who the hell I was.
I told her it didn't matter, and inquired who it was I was speaking with.
She asked if I had killed Howard or Homer or some other shit like that. I imagine that was the name of the gracious Bandit who had loaned me his phone and weapon. And I answered honestly, no.
She waited a bit and then asked the million dollar question: "Where are you?"
And to that, of course, I lied. I told her I was miles away, walking along an abandoned free way overpass, far from the school.
She cursed loudly, and called me a few names I'd rather not repeat. Then I asked again, "Who are you?".
"The boss around here you son of a bitch."
And then she hung up. I stared at the phone for awhile and then walked over to the window, shielded by tree coverage, I spied on the central building. The goons on the roof had cell phones out and were chatting actively, brusquely. There was a pair of dudes patrolling the central building corridors.
I examined them for a few moments and then, an idea struck me. I lifted the weapon I had taken from the Bandit's corpse, an automatic assault weapon. I'd never fired one obviously, the first weapon I'd fired was the hand gun back in the clinic, and that was apparently long gone. Taken by the Bandits when I'd been captured.
I didn't know how many shots the thing had left but I'd played enough GTA, Halo, and Fallout to think the stock supported 30 or 40 rounds at least. I also knew this was an automatic weapon and I should probably play sparingly with the trigger or I'd come out short soon. Especially since I didn't have any more magazines.
I exited the bathroom through the back door and walked down the southern building's corridor to the back entrance, where the kindergartners and pre-kinder special playground is located. I walked around the building by ducking behind a long bush that runs along the parking lot, beside the building. I reached the north wall, and ducked under the bushes, prostrating myself on my belly, to gain coverage.
I set the assault rifle on the floor, supported by my arms, and directed it at the roof, where the watchout goons walked. The weapon had no scope, I aimed at a fellow to the best of my ability, then I pulled out the cellphone and got the last call number through the memory. I hit send and after a few rings, the same female voice answered.
"Fuck you, bitch."
I hit the trigger and the assault rifle kicked, but not wildly, just solidly, easy for me to control. But I missed completely and the shots rang out loudly, the barrel had jumped at least a few inches away from my target.
"What?!" The bitch spat from the phone, the bandits had heard the gunfire, but confused, they looked around the roof unsure which of their comrades had opened fire. I squeezed again.
Swinging the barrel carefully, my stream of bullets caught one of the Bandits solidly, he stood awkwardly for a few seconds as bullet holes riddled him and blood spurted out unevenly. Then he collapsed.
Seeing their friend drop, the other Bandits dropped to their knees, trying to get lower and figure out where the shots had come from. Had they been standing on the opposite side of the building, they would have been out of sight from my sitting position. But they weren't, and from my sweeping position on the floor, I swung the weapon slowly, covering the area in deadly hot metal as I pushed the trigger.
One of the Bandits took it in the chest, he just sort of seized and crumpled. The other was a bit nastier. One second he was sitting there, a man pissing his pants, his eyes wide in disbelief, and then a second later, he had no head to speak of. It had crumpled in on itself from the gunfire.
Unsure how many rounds I had left, or indeed, if I had any, I turned my attention to the two Bandits who had been patrolling the corridor, much more within my view.
They'd seen me, I saw as I turned my attention to them. One was lifting his weapon in my direction, the other was struck dumb, his eyes connecting with mine for a second.
And the next second I squeezed. My body shook with the recoil, and I rained death to the best of my abilities in their direction. And amazingly, despite being the greenest motherfucker in the entire conflict, I brought them down.
Crimson liquid and bullet holes littered the wall behind them as they fell, their lifeless bodies
landing on top of each other, grasping in their last moments.
And then everything was quiet. Everything except for the devil screaming into my ear. The bitch was screaming on the other end of the phone. Obscenities and threats slurred together in fast succession, I couldn't even really comprehend. But I got the gist.
I smashed the phone against the floor. Repeatedly. That helped. A little.
Truthfully, I was in shock. No. Beyond shock. I was dead. For a few seconds anyways.
My breathing was so ragged, so haggard, that my entire body shook. The need for oxygen both existing and long gone. The realization that I'd murdered. So easily, now crashing upon my like the super pressure of the entire ocean upon my frame.
My body crawled backwards unconsciously. Even now, when a part of me was dead from shock, another was rational. I probably didn't have any ammo left, and once they came out (I doubted they would soon for fear of getting riddled with bullets) they'd see the bullet holes on the wall and know I fired from around the southern building. They'd know my location.
I backtracked into the bushes and collapsed into a fetal position and held myself there for awhile. Time passed and I heard people beyond. People shouting, screaming, arguing, and cursing. People searching for me. But they wouldn't find me. Dusk would arrive soon and attempting to find me at night would be beyond stupid.
And then I decided I wanted them dead.
I hadn'd been crying all that time. Just withdrawn, stuck in frozen thought. But then that thought arrived and suddenly, I realized what I wanted, was for the Bandits, each one of them, to be dead. And I wanted that now.
By the time I woke up, it was night. But not by much time. The Freaks were surely active by then, but they were barely raising, and surely not far from their nests yet. Not upon me yet.
I could flee into the southern building, I could wait out the night, but I realized alone, I could no longer kill them. I had taken five that day, a great portion of their fighting force, but only by surprise. And by luck. Using the same tactics would fail.
And then it was obvious.
I ran down the side of the southern building, through the hedges, and entered the southern building through the back exit, near the special playground. I entered the first classroom and searched roughly through the teacher's cabinet drawers. My fingers dug into the deepest part, hidden by print outs and homework, and secured two packs of cigarettes and matches.
This classroom, room 102, once belonged to a lethargic old man who taught the kindergartners. Actually, I had once belonged to his class, many years back. He was notorious among the students for being a chain smoker, the smell that clung to his clothes was powerful, and his hidden packs were something of a sport for the students to discover. Back in the day at least. And apparently still.
Some things never change. Thank god for that.
Fire is how I did it. Fire, aside from the obvious danger it poses to the surroundings, is like a magnet for Freaks. Not because they like the fire or heat, but because of the smell. The smoke. The aroma draws them, again not because they like it, but because it's different. A change in the usual will draw them.
I sauntered then, toward the main office. They were barricaded inside, most likely within the auditorium, but this would draw them out. I set fire to the tree in front of the office, and then ran back, hiding in the southern building.
The fire spread slowly, and I was afraid the Bandits would ignore it completely. But soon noises arose from behind the door and furious scrapping and force sounded. The doors parted, free from the barricades, and four or five men ran out, fire extinguishers held by two, and smothered the fire quickly.
I'd planned this far ahead, I assure, but everything that occurred after this point was only by the divine grace of god himself. And it couldn't have worked out better.
I lifted my weapon, aimed at the densest part of their group and squeezed the trigger. I was hoping for ammo, my plan would go to rot here without it, I needed to down one of the Bandits here, and allow the rest to retreat inside. Then I could retrieve at least another weapon and have the means to kill more Bandits another day.
What actually happened was much better.
Two slugs fired out from my baby. One, hit one of the Bandits on the hip and caused him to scream and drop his weapon in pain and fear. The second, hit a fire extinguisher, and before I knew it, the group cluster of Bandits were sent flying outward in a mini explosion.
Unsure of how to proceed at this point ( I hadn't counted on them being incapacitated, even shortly), I waited a few moments for the Bandits to rise and regain their composure from their sudden hit. And then I heard the scream.
They heard it too, the fear was visible in each of their faces as they hit the floor.
Two adult female Freaks hit the scene running, they wasted no time, and butchered the entire group of Bandits clean, ripping them apart with wide claw strikes, and crunching bites and tears.
One Bandit had the time to reach his fallen weapon, turn around, and fire a short round (which missed) before a large claw swiped his midsection, and gutted him clean.
Then the Freaks turned on themselves and pounced and fought amongst themselves, for the newly prepared meal.
I don't know. It's sorta weird to say it like this, since Freaks were at one point or another human beings, but seeing the way they hunted and interacted amongst themselves, from a safe perspective, it was amazing how natural they seemed. I mean, aside from looking like strange inflamed, mutated small bears, their behavior and social dynamics were...there!
Ugh... look. All this time, all I knew Freaks as were crazy infected monsters. Mistakes. But for that one moment in time, seeing the way they hunted, seeing that they actually cooperated and interacted amongst themselves... it just sort of opened another perspective on them I guess.
Regardless, these things were obviously not any sort of real animal. Vicious and ravenous, as soon as they finished feeding their plentiful meal, they were on the hunt again. One of the females gave a winded howl into the night and the pair entered into the main office through the still-open door.
And whatever happens after that is beyond me. I wasn't in there, I didn't see, but I can guess. There were screams, some belonging to the Freaks and others not. Gunfire, rounds and rounds of gunfire. And laughter. The Freak's laughter as they hunted.
I slowly walked to the bloody mess of the Bandits before the office. I was unsure. I didn't want to be caught out in the open in case another Freak appeared, but I needed the chance to gain a firearm. I reached the body of the Bandit who had a rifle clutched in his cold hands and relieved his corpse of the weapon.
And then there was a wild scream, one full of adrenaline and emotion, one that did bot belong to a Freak. Gunfire reigned a final time as the Freak's surreal laughter filled the night and then there was silence.
I wanted to take off. Hide in the southern building. Get away.
But I didn't. I steadied my shaking weapon and entered the main office which was was still in remarkable condition, all things considered. I passed the counter and passed into the side passage, reaching the fork in the way. One door, closed, I knew led to the infirmary. The second way, was a path to the auditorium. A backstage way that led to a side passage. And there was breathing coming from this passage. High, hurried breathing.
I walked down that path. It was dark and long, a step took me unto something wet, and I realized I was stepping over bodies. Fresh bodies. Fresh blood.
My eyes adjusted and to my surprise, I found a large body a few steps before em, downed. One of the Freaks, riddled with holes.
A continued on, over the bodies and found a door ahead, closed. Ahead of the door was the second Freak, crunching and tearing ensuing from its ducked head. A person beneath it. It was feeding.
To the victor go the spoils.
Fuck that.
Without even thinking, I opened fire on the thing. It screeched horribly and turned to face me, but in the narrow passage, there was no error for mistakes. I hit all the rounds dead on and before the Freak could cross the distance between us, it fell. Life seeped from it.
And there I was. The victor.
A gasp sounded and I raised my weapon in alarm. But I needn't have worried. The sound issued from the person behind the Freak. The person who had been chow just recently.
I approached them and was surprised to see a female, a rifle tossed not far from her body. Her entire bottom half had been shredded, and there was a deep gash running along her belly. She wouldn't live long. She looked half-delirious anyways.
She seemed to recognize me. Her words were muffled by a continuous gasp and shaking breaths, but she recalled I had been one of the newest prisoners a few days earlier.
She smiled, called me a dick. Said I ruined everything. "Fuck," she wheezed.
She was a tough woman. Strong. Middle-aged, in her late forties; formidable. She had commanded the Bandits. And now they were no more. She passed away from her wounds there, in a pool of her own blood.
And the rest is history. I sealed the main office that night and discovered the girl in the clinic, a victim of abuse; an emotional wreck. The next day I freed the prisoners from the classrooms and most of them took off straight away. A few stayed a bit longer. I organized the Bandit's supplies (food and weapons), and split it amongst the few who stayed (against my better judgment; I don't feel well knowing others have guns anymore). Five in total. I placed my share into a shopping kart, and prepared to get back home.
But of course, I hit a snag. Time; the day went on and by the time I was ready to get home, dusk was encroaching so I decided to stay the night. I'll get home later today.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
#0021 | 07/16 | 10:53 AM
After a night here with these self-serving bastards, I've come to appreciate exactly how organized these fucks are.
During the night, they all head indoors, into the main office/infirmary. I haven't been inside yet, but I suspect their living quarters are in the auditorium. The actual doors into the auditorium are barricaded, but I guess they get in through the office, which also happens to connect to the infirmary.
This allows them ample access to the cafeteria, central building and two yards as needed, but more importantly, garners them the defense required in case shit goes to hell and they have to fall back. Their only weakness being the auditorium's glass ceiling, but since even a Freak would have trouble scaling the cement walls of that large building, I think they're good there.
There are about twenty Bandits, eighteen after yesterday, and seventeen after last night. What exactly happened last night? Well, if you're assuming I pulled bravado out of my ass and downed a Bandit barehanded, then you're an idiot. What I did pull out of my ass was a flat broke miracle.
At about three or four in the morning, I snuck out of the computer lab, determined to make a break for it, to get out of the school, and out of the danger zone with the Bandits.
The back gate was chained locked, the only assured exits being the open gate of the northern yard and the front entrance of the school. Either option being horribly undesirable. The yard would take me out to the main street, and being out at night was bad enough, having to cross large empty spaces without cover was suicide. The front gate would lead me to plenty of deserted homes, plenty of locations to hide for the night. But I found the distance to be far too much of a hindrance. It meant at dawn, I'd have to backtrack around the school, giving the Bandits a chance to see me. Plus I'd have to walk double the distance unless I could just get over the damn fence.
So I did. Or tried. Almost made it too, but my foot missed a step, my weight shifted, fell a little, metal burned my hand, and I plummeted back to the ground. Was getting up when I heard the click behind me and a voice told me to freeze.
Just like a cop, hah.
A Bandit had found me, son of a bitch. He pointed his nice big gun at my face, smiled, and pulled out a cellphone.
Then we heard the snarl.
I was facing him then (always good to give the man with the gun what he wants after all) and my head tipped back from surprise. Above me, hunched over expertly on the fence, a large burly Freak was crouched, a familiar purr running down its throat, into its chest. The kind of sounds cats make.
My gaze dropped and I saw the Bandit's mouth was popped in a small O of surprise, he didn't even raise his gun to fire. Poor guy.
In moments, the Freak jumped and landed a flying tackle on the Bandit, sending him to the floor. A few sporadic bursts of gunfire, but it was too late. The Freak ripped out his throat and started feasting on his face, tearing his nose and jaw and almost slurping down his eyeballs.
I edged away from the gruesome scene, stepping away from the Freak. I stepped on a twig, caused a crack, and the Freak turned to me, barred a bloody mouth full of rows of dulled teeth on a maw far too wide and long, and screamed.
I turned on the spot, and started walking away. I remember thinking distinctly then, I wonder how many steps I'll get before it rips out my spine? Three? Four?
But it didn't. It didn't pursue at all. Instead, the slurping, crunching, and ripping resumed. And I managed to walk back to the computer lab, lock the door and get back to my corner. And cry.
I think now that the Freak must have been starved. The bandit being its first real meal in days, it probably didn't pursue me because I didn't pose a threat to its meal.
The screams and cries pursued into the night. I don't know if it was the same Freak, or maybe more, but the Bandits seemed to have company that night. Once, at five or so, I heard a sporadic burst of gunfire and a course scream of expletives.
Dawn came and things quieted down.
They got the same setup going today. A bunch of captured survivors are being held in the north yard, while guards watch em with loaded gun in hand. More guards today though. Five. Guess they don't want a repeat of yesterday.
Less prisoners. If there were about a dozen yesterday, there's about half that today. Guess a lot got free. Or got a bullet in the back.
I went back to the Bandit's body right before dawn. Disgusting pile of rotting muscle and guts he is now. I took his cell and his weapon. Wont be much use to him now.
They keep the prisoners in the central building classrooms, and the computer lab being in the central building, I had to clear out. I wasn't sure if they'd come in eventually.
I can't risk going over the fence in broad daylight either. They have guards on the central building roof. lookouts with binoculars. Snipers with out snipers. They use assault weapons. I've counted three.
I'm hiding out in the southern building's boy's bathroom. It's the smallest building with only one floor, but I've gotten a good view of the central building and auditorium. It's how I was able to figure out the rough number of bandits and hostages.
I don't know why I kept the cell, but by looking up the recently called numbers, I figure this is how the Bandits communicated. Which means I have a way to speak to them. I also know the layout of their defense and structure. And an automatic rifle. let's not forget that. I just need to figure out a way to get all these things to work for me. To get things in my favor...
During the night, they all head indoors, into the main office/infirmary. I haven't been inside yet, but I suspect their living quarters are in the auditorium. The actual doors into the auditorium are barricaded, but I guess they get in through the office, which also happens to connect to the infirmary.
This allows them ample access to the cafeteria, central building and two yards as needed, but more importantly, garners them the defense required in case shit goes to hell and they have to fall back. Their only weakness being the auditorium's glass ceiling, but since even a Freak would have trouble scaling the cement walls of that large building, I think they're good there.
There are about twenty Bandits, eighteen after yesterday, and seventeen after last night. What exactly happened last night? Well, if you're assuming I pulled bravado out of my ass and downed a Bandit barehanded, then you're an idiot. What I did pull out of my ass was a flat broke miracle.
At about three or four in the morning, I snuck out of the computer lab, determined to make a break for it, to get out of the school, and out of the danger zone with the Bandits.
The back gate was chained locked, the only assured exits being the open gate of the northern yard and the front entrance of the school. Either option being horribly undesirable. The yard would take me out to the main street, and being out at night was bad enough, having to cross large empty spaces without cover was suicide. The front gate would lead me to plenty of deserted homes, plenty of locations to hide for the night. But I found the distance to be far too much of a hindrance. It meant at dawn, I'd have to backtrack around the school, giving the Bandits a chance to see me. Plus I'd have to walk double the distance unless I could just get over the damn fence.
So I did. Or tried. Almost made it too, but my foot missed a step, my weight shifted, fell a little, metal burned my hand, and I plummeted back to the ground. Was getting up when I heard the click behind me and a voice told me to freeze.
Just like a cop, hah.
A Bandit had found me, son of a bitch. He pointed his nice big gun at my face, smiled, and pulled out a cellphone.
Then we heard the snarl.
I was facing him then (always good to give the man with the gun what he wants after all) and my head tipped back from surprise. Above me, hunched over expertly on the fence, a large burly Freak was crouched, a familiar purr running down its throat, into its chest. The kind of sounds cats make.
My gaze dropped and I saw the Bandit's mouth was popped in a small O of surprise, he didn't even raise his gun to fire. Poor guy.
In moments, the Freak jumped and landed a flying tackle on the Bandit, sending him to the floor. A few sporadic bursts of gunfire, but it was too late. The Freak ripped out his throat and started feasting on his face, tearing his nose and jaw and almost slurping down his eyeballs.
I edged away from the gruesome scene, stepping away from the Freak. I stepped on a twig, caused a crack, and the Freak turned to me, barred a bloody mouth full of rows of dulled teeth on a maw far too wide and long, and screamed.
I turned on the spot, and started walking away. I remember thinking distinctly then, I wonder how many steps I'll get before it rips out my spine? Three? Four?
But it didn't. It didn't pursue at all. Instead, the slurping, crunching, and ripping resumed. And I managed to walk back to the computer lab, lock the door and get back to my corner. And cry.
I think now that the Freak must have been starved. The bandit being its first real meal in days, it probably didn't pursue me because I didn't pose a threat to its meal.
The screams and cries pursued into the night. I don't know if it was the same Freak, or maybe more, but the Bandits seemed to have company that night. Once, at five or so, I heard a sporadic burst of gunfire and a course scream of expletives.
Dawn came and things quieted down.
They got the same setup going today. A bunch of captured survivors are being held in the north yard, while guards watch em with loaded gun in hand. More guards today though. Five. Guess they don't want a repeat of yesterday.
Less prisoners. If there were about a dozen yesterday, there's about half that today. Guess a lot got free. Or got a bullet in the back.
I went back to the Bandit's body right before dawn. Disgusting pile of rotting muscle and guts he is now. I took his cell and his weapon. Wont be much use to him now.
They keep the prisoners in the central building classrooms, and the computer lab being in the central building, I had to clear out. I wasn't sure if they'd come in eventually.
I can't risk going over the fence in broad daylight either. They have guards on the central building roof. lookouts with binoculars. Snipers with out snipers. They use assault weapons. I've counted three.
I'm hiding out in the southern building's boy's bathroom. It's the smallest building with only one floor, but I've gotten a good view of the central building and auditorium. It's how I was able to figure out the rough number of bandits and hostages.
I don't know why I kept the cell, but by looking up the recently called numbers, I figure this is how the Bandits communicated. Which means I have a way to speak to them. I also know the layout of their defense and structure. And an automatic rifle. let's not forget that. I just need to figure out a way to get all these things to work for me. To get things in my favor...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
#0020 | 07/15 | 11:02 PM
One of the computers (third row, second from the right) was turned on and operable. It was displaying that snazzy screen saver, the one that floats a word (in your choosing of color, front, and size) around the screen. I hit the keyboard and MS Paint came up, along with the calculator app.
A crappy (what else can be displayed on MS Paint?) rendition of a baby holding the globe (in stick form) and laughing was hastily sketched on the screen. The calculator revealed the numbers: 0010.
Any meaning behind it? Doubtful.
Hey, I found a student's paper atop the teacher's desk. Across the front, a single question was slashed in blotted ink: "why even give a fuck?".
I wonder how many many prisoners made it to freedom. I'm more than sure a few got wasted. Those are probably the luckier ones. The others were captured, and got a rush lesson in obedience.
I think someone might eventually come to this lab, someone after all this shit. Maybe someday when the world returns to a state of society.
I want to leave a message, prove I was here. So I opened up Word, and saved this message:
"Fuck you!"?
I saved it as a document titled 'Important'.
A crappy (what else can be displayed on MS Paint?) rendition of a baby holding the globe (in stick form) and laughing was hastily sketched on the screen. The calculator revealed the numbers: 0010.
Any meaning behind it? Doubtful.
Hey, I found a student's paper atop the teacher's desk. Across the front, a single question was slashed in blotted ink: "why even give a fuck?".
I wonder how many many prisoners made it to freedom. I'm more than sure a few got wasted. Those are probably the luckier ones. The others were captured, and got a rush lesson in obedience.
I think someone might eventually come to this lab, someone after all this shit. Maybe someday when the world returns to a state of society.
I want to leave a message, prove I was here. So I opened up Word, and saved this message:
"Fuck you!"?
I saved it as a document titled 'Important'.
#0019 | 07/15 | 06:49 PM
Okay. Thing's are a lot clearer now. Painfully clear.
They moved me at light out. Two guys who wouldn't look out of place on a thundering, stormy harbor lugging around 200 pound crates with one hand while boxing each other with the other entered my room.
And god did they stink. Which is saying something coming from the guy who spent the last hours of his life surrounded by rotting corpses.
With the tactless gentleness of a weight lifter, one of the great brutes lifted me deftly over his shoulder and took me out of the classroom. We were on the second floor of the central building.
The grade school is separated into three specific structures. The southern building, for Pre-school, kindergartners, and first grade classrooms. The central building, for 2-3 grade classrooms, as well as the computer lab and library. And the northern building, for 4-5 grade classrooms. The cafeteria, main office, and infirmary is located in close proximity to each other, adjacent to the central building. Two large playground yards are located on either side of the central building.
The bastards lugged me down a stairwell and dumped me out unto the pavement of the northern yard. Here, they unbound me and pushed me among others, people who looked a lot like me, from their shell-shocked expressions to the rope burn along their skin.
I imagined these were other people who had been captured, much like me.
Along the central building wall, three guards stood in attention, next to the water fountain. Large and ugly just like their predecessors, they each wielded large automatic weapons and leered at us with daring contempt. Daring us to try and make it to the fence. Or come and get a drink of water.
A couple of minutes passed and eventually an elderly man separated from the group, and approached me. He had a grim expression on his face, but he surveyed me with something like compassion. Not caring compassion, just the compassion fellow survivors can acknowledge and convey. He was too busy keeping his own ass alive to spare me more than a few words of explanation.
This wasn't a "survivor's camp", he explained. This was more akin to a "slave camp". The people in charge (call em' what you will: Bandits, Raiders, Slavers) are armed thugs. They joined together and are trying to amass the means to survive in the aftermath of the end. Primarily, that means slaves to work labor.
He explained that over the course of a few days, the Bandits had amassed the small group before me. The elderly man being the first of their victims. Myself being one of the latest.
There was one fellow in out little group who was really bruised up. Even more so than me. He had the whole black-eye, swollen left face, probably broken fingers-thing going. His clothes were ripped and torn, and I'm pretty sure he was bleeding from his rectum. A sure sign of some rough loving.
The elderly man saw my gaze rest on him and he explained that the dude, who probably wasn't much older than me, had been captured last night. He was a newcomer like me. Rough welcome. Unfortunately, he had had a companion. His fiancee or something.
She'd been the first female captured by the Bandits. So imagine if you will, the first thing a bunch of stressed, testosterone filled, adrenaline driven men might want with the first live, uninfected woman they see since the end?
Yeah, apparently, they made their intentions pretty damn clear from the start. And the guy hadn't been too happy with the idea. So he fought back. And the Bandits didn't exactly like that.
And here we are, practically penned up in the playground while his fiancee is having the time of her life. Er, I mean, giving a bunch of nasty, sweaty, idiots the time of their lives.
On a side-note, I imagine the reason I wasn't violated last night was because the Bandits found someone much more appetizing to release their frustration and stress on.
Anyway, just as the elderly man was explaining this to me, the beat-up fellow rose from his slumped position, took a deep breathe, and started walking steadily towards the guards, disguising a heavy limp.
The guards had been chatting amongst themselves, smoking, and only surveying us half-heartedly. But at the sight of this fellow, they straightened up and aimed their weapons at his chest. They told him to halt. He didn't. They told him again. He didn't. They fired.
A slug hit his belly and he doubled over in pain, but then he lunged. I think he was beyond reason by then. His mental state was too fragile. Too much shit had gone down, too much to bear alone.
So he snapped. So he lunged. He was close enough by then. He tackled one of the guards and toppled the fellow over. In the approximately six seconds of stunned confusion that followed (and it probably helped that the guards had not really slept in days), the dude smashed a guard's nose. Got shot again. Managed to wrestle the weapon from his opponent, and fired an automatic burst into the guard's temple. Splattering his brain.
One down.
Then the guard's opened complete fire on the fellow, annihilating him on the spot.
But that was a mistake, some slugs ricocheted, and quite a few struck one of the guard's legs, crippling him, and causing him to drop his weapon.
We, the prisoners, had been watching this with numb apprehension, but when the second guard dropped from the pain, we saw the opportunity, and we took off. We scattered in countless directions. A few for the school yard gate. Some to climb, others to flee through the open gate.
I took off for the central building. I don't know why. I just did. A few more came with me. But not many.
Behind us, the single surviving and unharmed guard screamed at us. He fired short bursts of fire, and I think I heard someone drop. But I'm not sure. I was gone by then.
I followed the central building west, along the corridor, but hooked a left at the passage turn that would lead me to southern school yard. There was a back gate the school used, I remembered, but I found it chained and locked. I would not find freedom through here, so instead, I continued along the corridor, and entered the first classroom I found. The computer lab.
There were sporadic bursts of gunfire for a while. Yelling, a lot of that. Arguing most likely.
I hid in the north eastern corner, under a desk and waited. And the day passed. Running steps, gun shots, voices arguing, screaming, pleading.
It's almost dusk, and I'm conflicted. It's never a good idea to travel by night anymore, meeting a Freak is practically assured. But I'm not getting out of here during the day either. I'll get recaptured or shot.
I suppose I could make a bee-line for one of the houses outside the school at night, spend the night within the relative safety, and move out back home tomorrow.
Still I do
They moved me at light out. Two guys who wouldn't look out of place on a thundering, stormy harbor lugging around 200 pound crates with one hand while boxing each other with the other entered my room.
And god did they stink. Which is saying something coming from the guy who spent the last hours of his life surrounded by rotting corpses.
With the tactless gentleness of a weight lifter, one of the great brutes lifted me deftly over his shoulder and took me out of the classroom. We were on the second floor of the central building.
The grade school is separated into three specific structures. The southern building, for Pre-school, kindergartners, and first grade classrooms. The central building, for 2-3 grade classrooms, as well as the computer lab and library. And the northern building, for 4-5 grade classrooms. The cafeteria, main office, and infirmary is located in close proximity to each other, adjacent to the central building. Two large playground yards are located on either side of the central building.
The bastards lugged me down a stairwell and dumped me out unto the pavement of the northern yard. Here, they unbound me and pushed me among others, people who looked a lot like me, from their shell-shocked expressions to the rope burn along their skin.
I imagined these were other people who had been captured, much like me.
Along the central building wall, three guards stood in attention, next to the water fountain. Large and ugly just like their predecessors, they each wielded large automatic weapons and leered at us with daring contempt. Daring us to try and make it to the fence. Or come and get a drink of water.
A couple of minutes passed and eventually an elderly man separated from the group, and approached me. He had a grim expression on his face, but he surveyed me with something like compassion. Not caring compassion, just the compassion fellow survivors can acknowledge and convey. He was too busy keeping his own ass alive to spare me more than a few words of explanation.
This wasn't a "survivor's camp", he explained. This was more akin to a "slave camp". The people in charge (call em' what you will: Bandits, Raiders, Slavers) are armed thugs. They joined together and are trying to amass the means to survive in the aftermath of the end. Primarily, that means slaves to work labor.
He explained that over the course of a few days, the Bandits had amassed the small group before me. The elderly man being the first of their victims. Myself being one of the latest.
There was one fellow in out little group who was really bruised up. Even more so than me. He had the whole black-eye, swollen left face, probably broken fingers-thing going. His clothes were ripped and torn, and I'm pretty sure he was bleeding from his rectum. A sure sign of some rough loving.
The elderly man saw my gaze rest on him and he explained that the dude, who probably wasn't much older than me, had been captured last night. He was a newcomer like me. Rough welcome. Unfortunately, he had had a companion. His fiancee or something.
She'd been the first female captured by the Bandits. So imagine if you will, the first thing a bunch of stressed, testosterone filled, adrenaline driven men might want with the first live, uninfected woman they see since the end?
Yeah, apparently, they made their intentions pretty damn clear from the start. And the guy hadn't been too happy with the idea. So he fought back. And the Bandits didn't exactly like that.
And here we are, practically penned up in the playground while his fiancee is having the time of her life. Er, I mean, giving a bunch of nasty, sweaty, idiots the time of their lives.
On a side-note, I imagine the reason I wasn't violated last night was because the Bandits found someone much more appetizing to release their frustration and stress on.
Anyway, just as the elderly man was explaining this to me, the beat-up fellow rose from his slumped position, took a deep breathe, and started walking steadily towards the guards, disguising a heavy limp.
The guards had been chatting amongst themselves, smoking, and only surveying us half-heartedly. But at the sight of this fellow, they straightened up and aimed their weapons at his chest. They told him to halt. He didn't. They told him again. He didn't. They fired.
A slug hit his belly and he doubled over in pain, but then he lunged. I think he was beyond reason by then. His mental state was too fragile. Too much shit had gone down, too much to bear alone.
So he snapped. So he lunged. He was close enough by then. He tackled one of the guards and toppled the fellow over. In the approximately six seconds of stunned confusion that followed (and it probably helped that the guards had not really slept in days), the dude smashed a guard's nose. Got shot again. Managed to wrestle the weapon from his opponent, and fired an automatic burst into the guard's temple. Splattering his brain.
One down.
Then the guard's opened complete fire on the fellow, annihilating him on the spot.
But that was a mistake, some slugs ricocheted, and quite a few struck one of the guard's legs, crippling him, and causing him to drop his weapon.
We, the prisoners, had been watching this with numb apprehension, but when the second guard dropped from the pain, we saw the opportunity, and we took off. We scattered in countless directions. A few for the school yard gate. Some to climb, others to flee through the open gate.
I took off for the central building. I don't know why. I just did. A few more came with me. But not many.
Behind us, the single surviving and unharmed guard screamed at us. He fired short bursts of fire, and I think I heard someone drop. But I'm not sure. I was gone by then.
I followed the central building west, along the corridor, but hooked a left at the passage turn that would lead me to southern school yard. There was a back gate the school used, I remembered, but I found it chained and locked. I would not find freedom through here, so instead, I continued along the corridor, and entered the first classroom I found. The computer lab.
There were sporadic bursts of gunfire for a while. Yelling, a lot of that. Arguing most likely.
I hid in the north eastern corner, under a desk and waited. And the day passed. Running steps, gun shots, voices arguing, screaming, pleading.
It's almost dusk, and I'm conflicted. It's never a good idea to travel by night anymore, meeting a Freak is practically assured. But I'm not getting out of here during the day either. I'll get recaptured or shot.
I suppose I could make a bee-line for one of the houses outside the school at night, spend the night within the relative safety, and move out back home tomorrow.
Still I do
#0018 | 07/15 | 08:21 AM ~ Captured
Ugh... so I've spent a harrowing night tied up in a dark, disgusting, putrid room. And all I got was this tee-shirt! No, but seriously. I'm fucking terrified.
Light finally made its appearance through windows and dawn followed one or two hours ago and I was finally able to make out my location.
And wretch horribly for about an hour.
I'm in a classroom. I guess the bastard brought me to the elementary school after all; Astor Elementary, my alma mater. Though I seriously doubt he brought me to a "survivor's camp". At least the sight of what I found around me helped keep my mind off the fact that at any moment, a fellow might come in here and try to know me like my pappy never did.
Bodies. By the dozens. They're piled and laid on each other. And they're all over the room. How do I know they're dead and not just laid out like me? A few are missing heads. Mostly arms. A few legs. Some are bagged in red soggy sacks. Definitely dead. Huh. Well that certainly explains the rotting smell.
But doesn't explain why I'm here. Remind me never to do a favor for a girl bleeding from her vag. Nothing but trouble, I swear.
I sound slick as smooth right now, huh. Don't think too much about, I'm pretty sure I'm in shock. That'll happen when you kidnap a fellow and threaten him with ra
Light finally made its appearance through windows and dawn followed one or two hours ago and I was finally able to make out my location.
And wretch horribly for about an hour.
I'm in a classroom. I guess the bastard brought me to the elementary school after all; Astor Elementary, my alma mater. Though I seriously doubt he brought me to a "survivor's camp". At least the sight of what I found around me helped keep my mind off the fact that at any moment, a fellow might come in here and try to know me like my pappy never did.
Bodies. By the dozens. They're piled and laid on each other. And they're all over the room. How do I know they're dead and not just laid out like me? A few are missing heads. Mostly arms. A few legs. Some are bagged in red soggy sacks. Definitely dead. Huh. Well that certainly explains the rotting smell.
But doesn't explain why I'm here. Remind me never to do a favor for a girl bleeding from her vag. Nothing but trouble, I swear.
I sound slick as smooth right now, huh. Don't think too much about, I'm pretty sure I'm in shock. That'll happen when you kidnap a fellow and threaten him with ra
07/15 | 12:23 AM
It's been one hell of a day and I'm still not home. God, what have I gotten myself into?
Alright, let's start off with the morning. I waited a few hours indoors before heading out to the clinic. Maybe I was just dawdling, okay sure. I was dawdling. I probably should have gotten an earlier start on the day. What with already being hours or so late.
I found the gun in the alley, where I dropped it. It's sort of old, I'm surprised it didn't go off from the fall.
I trudged the rest of the walk down the alleyway and found the clinic to be exactly what I expected it to be. A looted, ruined mess.
Some of the windows were smashed, some chairs tipped over, and of course, all the medicine was long gone. I found some condoms in a cabinet. Something that looked like a used tampon in a toilet. Oh, and a Freak hanging off the ceiling.
Yeah. You read that right.
I opened the men's bathroom, stepped in too hastily, got a big whiff of something rotting, and bam, from out of sight, a Freak swings down and knocks me backwards, into the hallway.
I dropped the gun. Really, you think I'd have learned after the first time, but it's alright. I scooped it up and ran. Bolted down the hallway and tripped over some chairs. Which is a good thing, since the trip saved me from being tackled by the shrieking Freak. They're faster than I could hope to out run, and it went flying over me.
I fired a shot off then. Recoil nearly broke my wrist, the shit kicked like a horse. At the time anyway.
I hit the Freak right above the left ankle. Nearly tore the foot off, but not quite. Pretty good, I think now. Not quite as good as a head shot, but shit, it was the first gun I'd ever fired. I can't complain.
Almost missing a foot made it a hell of a lot slower, I swung a left and ended up in front of a room labeled Room 12. I practically flew inside (thank fucking god there wasn't a Freak sleeping in there) and yanked the door closed. The Freak wasn't far off, even with a shattered ankle. It smashed into the door and sent it swinging.
These rooms, it seems, came with your standard lock-less doors, helpful to the most foul of human devouring monstrosities and to the consternation of your standard victim. I.e., me. No, my brain wasn't making all these witty observations at that point, I was too busy screaming and shitting myself.
This was of course, the closest I'd been in conflict with a Freak since the day my parents
Ah, anyways... I then performed the next most logical action. I jumped out the window. It was one of the few windows that still had glass. Took care of that, I used the little doctor-bed clinics are famous for, and dove head first through.
I landed in the shaded parking lot/drive the clinic used. My luck must have been outstanding, I managed to dive through the one window not directly before an automobile. As such, I managed to avoid diving directly into a car's door, or such, and avoided squashing my skull into metal. Which is good. Very good.
The drive way/parking lot is loaded with cars. Actually, all streets are. People were in a hell of a hurry before the end. Rumors and emergency news regarding the infection were running 24/7 on the news and the terrified were fleeing cities in hordes. Traffic congestion was only natural. Many were on the congested roads when night fell that last time. We knew. Whole cities had already been lost at that point, the government wasn't really functioning anymore - soldiers were being moved out, and the situation was pretty bleak. But society was still functioning, on some level, before that night. Then darkness fell, and the Freaks attacked on a scale bigger than anything before. That was the last night of humanity. That was the end.
But shit, I'm getting off topic.
I pushed myself off the ground and took off down the drive through, pushing myself harder than I can ever remember pushing. Behind me, the Freak was still in pursuit, even with it's fucked up ankle, it was still almost upon me. Would have caught me. But I crossed the drive-through gates and ran out into the street first.
The drive-through/parking lot is shaded, due to its location amidst larger buildings. The street is not, and the Freak followed me straight out into broad daylight. And I now know exactly why Freaks are nocturnal.
The thing gave the most pricing, heart-stopping, wretched scream I'd ever heard. I turned around (already almost halfway across the street) and found this thing curled up, its claws were digging into their sides, its head thrown back in an arch, and its eyes were pulled open and possibly ripping in intensity.
Its skin was rapidly crusting and cracking. Shriveling -almost like enhanced aging - and within minutes, all that remained were a set of yellow pale bones, and a rocky gray powder, scattered on the sidewalk.
And that concludes my morning. Minus an hour or so of me crying. Yeah. I cried. I don't know why, but I'm not ashamed either. I kicked the skeleton a bit too. I imagine I might have had a lot of pent up frustration following everything I've been through. The close encounter and subsequent death of the Freak probably helped alleviate my stress. And the adrenaline is good too.
But of course, the day doesn't end there.
I was captured.
A less than friendly fellow came upon me then. Maybe he just happened to see me. Maybe he was lured by my earlier gun shot and the Freak's death wail. Either way, a little less than an hour after my meeting with a Freak, someone dredged out from south, down the main street, and called out to me. They warned they were human before coming into view and then slowly approached.
An adult man, African-American, dressed in casual but dirty jeans and tee, and holding what looked like an assault gun, greeted me grimly. He noted the gun in my hand and the bones piled nearby. Then he told me there was a survivor camp situated in the remains of the school nearby. The school, an elementary grade school I'd once attended, was just across the street. We were on the back side, on a main street that crossed behind the school. The entrance was found on a smaller street two blocks away. He invited me to come and join the survivors.
Then he knocked me out. Caught my from behind with the stock of his weapon.
My bad, I dropped my guard. Tough shit.
I woke up bound and gagged in a dark space. My shoes are gone. At least I still have pants on.
An hour ago, someone came in (maybe the same guy who caught me), saw that I was awake and kicked me in my gut. Promised he'd have me later. Then he left.
Just great...
Just fucking great...
Alright, let's start off with the morning. I waited a few hours indoors before heading out to the clinic. Maybe I was just dawdling, okay sure. I was dawdling. I probably should have gotten an earlier start on the day. What with already being hours or so late.
I found the gun in the alley, where I dropped it. It's sort of old, I'm surprised it didn't go off from the fall.
I trudged the rest of the walk down the alleyway and found the clinic to be exactly what I expected it to be. A looted, ruined mess.
Some of the windows were smashed, some chairs tipped over, and of course, all the medicine was long gone. I found some condoms in a cabinet. Something that looked like a used tampon in a toilet. Oh, and a Freak hanging off the ceiling.
Yeah. You read that right.
I opened the men's bathroom, stepped in too hastily, got a big whiff of something rotting, and bam, from out of sight, a Freak swings down and knocks me backwards, into the hallway.
I dropped the gun. Really, you think I'd have learned after the first time, but it's alright. I scooped it up and ran. Bolted down the hallway and tripped over some chairs. Which is a good thing, since the trip saved me from being tackled by the shrieking Freak. They're faster than I could hope to out run, and it went flying over me.
I fired a shot off then. Recoil nearly broke my wrist, the shit kicked like a horse. At the time anyway.
I hit the Freak right above the left ankle. Nearly tore the foot off, but not quite. Pretty good, I think now. Not quite as good as a head shot, but shit, it was the first gun I'd ever fired. I can't complain.
Almost missing a foot made it a hell of a lot slower, I swung a left and ended up in front of a room labeled Room 12. I practically flew inside (thank fucking god there wasn't a Freak sleeping in there) and yanked the door closed. The Freak wasn't far off, even with a shattered ankle. It smashed into the door and sent it swinging.
These rooms, it seems, came with your standard lock-less doors, helpful to the most foul of human devouring monstrosities and to the consternation of your standard victim. I.e., me. No, my brain wasn't making all these witty observations at that point, I was too busy screaming and shitting myself.
This was of course, the closest I'd been in conflict with a Freak since the day my parents
Ah, anyways... I then performed the next most logical action. I jumped out the window. It was one of the few windows that still had glass. Took care of that, I used the little doctor-bed clinics are famous for, and dove head first through.
I landed in the shaded parking lot/drive the clinic used. My luck must have been outstanding, I managed to dive through the one window not directly before an automobile. As such, I managed to avoid diving directly into a car's door, or such, and avoided squashing my skull into metal. Which is good. Very good.
The drive way/parking lot is loaded with cars. Actually, all streets are. People were in a hell of a hurry before the end. Rumors and emergency news regarding the infection were running 24/7 on the news and the terrified were fleeing cities in hordes. Traffic congestion was only natural. Many were on the congested roads when night fell that last time. We knew. Whole cities had already been lost at that point, the government wasn't really functioning anymore - soldiers were being moved out, and the situation was pretty bleak. But society was still functioning, on some level, before that night. Then darkness fell, and the Freaks attacked on a scale bigger than anything before. That was the last night of humanity. That was the end.
But shit, I'm getting off topic.
I pushed myself off the ground and took off down the drive through, pushing myself harder than I can ever remember pushing. Behind me, the Freak was still in pursuit, even with it's fucked up ankle, it was still almost upon me. Would have caught me. But I crossed the drive-through gates and ran out into the street first.
The drive-through/parking lot is shaded, due to its location amidst larger buildings. The street is not, and the Freak followed me straight out into broad daylight. And I now know exactly why Freaks are nocturnal.
The thing gave the most pricing, heart-stopping, wretched scream I'd ever heard. I turned around (already almost halfway across the street) and found this thing curled up, its claws were digging into their sides, its head thrown back in an arch, and its eyes were pulled open and possibly ripping in intensity.
Its skin was rapidly crusting and cracking. Shriveling -almost like enhanced aging - and within minutes, all that remained were a set of yellow pale bones, and a rocky gray powder, scattered on the sidewalk.
And that concludes my morning. Minus an hour or so of me crying. Yeah. I cried. I don't know why, but I'm not ashamed either. I kicked the skeleton a bit too. I imagine I might have had a lot of pent up frustration following everything I've been through. The close encounter and subsequent death of the Freak probably helped alleviate my stress. And the adrenaline is good too.
But of course, the day doesn't end there.
I was captured.
A less than friendly fellow came upon me then. Maybe he just happened to see me. Maybe he was lured by my earlier gun shot and the Freak's death wail. Either way, a little less than an hour after my meeting with a Freak, someone dredged out from south, down the main street, and called out to me. They warned they were human before coming into view and then slowly approached.
An adult man, African-American, dressed in casual but dirty jeans and tee, and holding what looked like an assault gun, greeted me grimly. He noted the gun in my hand and the bones piled nearby. Then he told me there was a survivor camp situated in the remains of the school nearby. The school, an elementary grade school I'd once attended, was just across the street. We were on the back side, on a main street that crossed behind the school. The entrance was found on a smaller street two blocks away. He invited me to come and join the survivors.
Then he knocked me out. Caught my from behind with the stock of his weapon.
My bad, I dropped my guard. Tough shit.
I woke up bound and gagged in a dark space. My shoes are gone. At least I still have pants on.
An hour ago, someone came in (maybe the same guy who caught me), saw that I was awake and kicked me in my gut. Promised he'd have me later. Then he left.
Just great...
Just fucking great...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
07/14 | 07:17 AM
God, I feel like such a retarded pussy.
For the past two or so hours, I've just been sitting here and thinking, what the hell is wrong with me? I freaking crawled into a garage. I freaking dropped the gun. And even more idiotic, did I actually start spooning, what may possibly be, blood off the wall???
Damn. I'm fucked up. I might be able to overlook everything else, but shit. I was licking blood. Unknown blood. Possibly infected blood. Damn. I deserve to be struck down by Freaky (my slang for the infection, in case ya didn't know. Back when it first started, I heard a black guy arguing with some soldiers over his obviously infected friend. He kept saying, "he's fine! Just a little Freaky!"). Or AIDS. Probably both.
Not that it matters, it turns out I'm the luckiest motherfucker this side of the great old Mississippi. The bloody scrawl on the wall is gone. And, thinking about it, I'm not sure it was ever there. It's completely plausible I imagined the entire thing. There's no blood residue on my fingers, or my palm (which I never licked).
And although this speaks wonders for my hypothetical 1337 luck stat, it raises stark worries regarding my sanity. Imagining odd little scribbles in blood and starting to lick them in the dark of night is... worrisome.
Although, admittedly, It's something to worry about later. There are more pressing issues right now. Most pressing of all, a woman who may or may not be dead in my house as we speak and a possibly Freak-azied Randy munching on her stale corpse. She's defenseless after all, what with being gunless now.
And even if she's still alive and survived the night, I have no idea what's wrong with her and optimistically hoping that It'll stumble across the miracle cure for whatever she has in a (probably) looted clinic is just...
For the past two or so hours, I've just been sitting here and thinking, what the hell is wrong with me? I freaking crawled into a garage. I freaking dropped the gun. And even more idiotic, did I actually start spooning, what may possibly be, blood off the wall???
Damn. I'm fucked up. I might be able to overlook everything else, but shit. I was licking blood. Unknown blood. Possibly infected blood. Damn. I deserve to be struck down by Freaky (my slang for the infection, in case ya didn't know. Back when it first started, I heard a black guy arguing with some soldiers over his obviously infected friend. He kept saying, "he's fine! Just a little Freaky!"). Or AIDS. Probably both.
Not that it matters, it turns out I'm the luckiest motherfucker this side of the great old Mississippi. The bloody scrawl on the wall is gone. And, thinking about it, I'm not sure it was ever there. It's completely plausible I imagined the entire thing. There's no blood residue on my fingers, or my palm (which I never licked).
And although this speaks wonders for my hypothetical 1337 luck stat, it raises stark worries regarding my sanity. Imagining odd little scribbles in blood and starting to lick them in the dark of night is... worrisome.
Although, admittedly, It's something to worry about later. There are more pressing issues right now. Most pressing of all, a woman who may or may not be dead in my house as we speak and a possibly Freak-azied Randy munching on her stale corpse. She's defenseless after all, what with being gunless now.
And even if she's still alive and survived the night, I have no idea what's wrong with her and optimistically hoping that It'll stumble across the miracle cure for whatever she has in a (probably) looted clinic is just...
07/14 | 01:19 AM
There's something written on the garage's west-most wall.
I couldn't see it at first, what with it being dark (and me cowering like a baby and all), but the graying wall's been tagged. And not by the usual gangster marking or juvenile prank shit you'd expect.
The message is small, obscured in part by piled up box cartons leaned against each other.
An hour ago, something ran through the backyard and tripped the house's security lights. The light filtered into the garage through a smashed window, and it illuminated the wall - and the message - which I probably would have missed otherwise.
The lights are off now, but I keep running my fingers over the message. It brings me comfort, but I'm not sure why. The message itself is simply nonsense:
"Belief is a graveyard."
Written on to the wall in a red liquid, I have a nasty suspicion, it might be blood. But it might not be.
Every once in a while I'll lick the fingers that I run over the message. I imagine I can taste the metallic penny taste.
That comforts me too. But I don't know why.
I couldn't see it at first, what with it being dark (and me cowering like a baby and all), but the graying wall's been tagged. And not by the usual gangster marking or juvenile prank shit you'd expect.
The message is small, obscured in part by piled up box cartons leaned against each other.
An hour ago, something ran through the backyard and tripped the house's security lights. The light filtered into the garage through a smashed window, and it illuminated the wall - and the message - which I probably would have missed otherwise.
The lights are off now, but I keep running my fingers over the message. It brings me comfort, but I'm not sure why. The message itself is simply nonsense:
"Belief is a graveyard."
Written on to the wall in a red liquid, I have a nasty suspicion, it might be blood. But it might not be.
Every once in a while I'll lick the fingers that I run over the message. I imagine I can taste the metallic penny taste.
That comforts me too. But I don't know why.
Monday, July 13, 2009
07/13 | 11:04 PM
I'm a fucking coward.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't even get halfway.
I somehow got out of the house and down the alley, when I saw something in the distance, probably a pack of dogs, and I panicked. I dropped the gun and crawled under a chain link fence. I managed to get into a house's empty garage.
That's where I am now. I couldn't find anything to barricade the door with, now I'm curled up in a corner, freaking shaking. The infected are out. Cries for help. Screams.
My only defense is hoping I can be quiet enough to not attract any attention. And god.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't even get halfway.
I somehow got out of the house and down the alley, when I saw something in the distance, probably a pack of dogs, and I panicked. I dropped the gun and crawled under a chain link fence. I managed to get into a house's empty garage.
That's where I am now. I couldn't find anything to barricade the door with, now I'm curled up in a corner, freaking shaking. The infected are out. Cries for help. Screams.
My only defense is hoping I can be quiet enough to not attract any attention. And god.
God help me.
I'll head out to the clinic tomorrow at day break. I just need to rest now. Just rest.
Breathe.
I'll head out to the clinic tomorrow at day break. I just need to rest now. Just rest.
Breathe.
07/13 | 07:11 PM
Aw, shit.
I can't do it. Fuck.
I just threw up. My heart hurts too much. Damn. This is just...
Fuck...
I only have like half an hour... damn it. Who knows when the Freaks are gonna get active and I'm still dicking around...
Ugh... Fuck, I looked into the alley way. It's the best way, it cuts across the block and it'll take me right to the clinic... but...
Damn, the freaking wind sounds so ominous... shit.
I can't do it. Fuck.
I just threw up. My heart hurts too much. Damn. This is just...
Fuck...
I only have like half an hour... damn it. Who knows when the Freaks are gonna get active and I'm still dicking around...
Ugh... Fuck, I looked into the alley way. It's the best way, it cuts across the block and it'll take me right to the clinic... but...
Damn, the freaking wind sounds so ominous... shit.
07/13 | 07:02 PM | Get Help
Shit, shit, shit.
Darkness will be here in less than an hour, and that damn bitch is making me head out.
She's bleeding. Bad. From... her... ugh. Okay. From her damn vagina.
There's a community clinic like, a block from here. I doubt there are really any medical supplies there (looting was crazy weeks ago) but she wont stop bleeding.
What's wrong with her? Oh, I dunno. Maybe fucking a damn Freak wasn't so smart? Hmmm?
She gave me her handgun, which she claims has two slugs left. Not that it'll help if shit goes to hell, I've never fired so much as a paint gun before.
Fuck.
Darkness will be here in less than an hour, and that damn bitch is making me head out.
She's bleeding. Bad. From... her... ugh. Okay. From her damn vagina.
There's a community clinic like, a block from here. I doubt there are really any medical supplies there (looting was crazy weeks ago) but she wont stop bleeding.
What's wrong with her? Oh, I dunno. Maybe fucking a damn Freak wasn't so smart? Hmmm?
She gave me her handgun, which she claims has two slugs left. Not that it'll help if shit goes to hell, I've never fired so much as a paint gun before.
Fuck.
07/13 | 12:09 PM
Things are up in the air right now.
I talked a bit to the woman. Her name's Ruth. I think. The dude's name is Randy. After I went to warn her about the Freaks, she opened up a bit. Thanked me for helping out.
But she's unstable.
She wont put the gun down. And the way she wasn't bothered by the fact that she might soon be in close proximity to Freaks worries me. In fact, she almost looked glad. Grim. But glad.
Weirder shit's happened. I think the two are having sex right now.
And that is strange. Last time I was in there, the dude was out cold, fever raging, and starting to look inflamed. His hair was tumbling off in patches.
He's in no condition to be getting down and dirty.
But I hear the moans and the rocking squeaks. Shit. I wonder if it's possible to pass the infection through that?
I talked a bit to the woman. Her name's Ruth. I think. The dude's name is Randy. After I went to warn her about the Freaks, she opened up a bit. Thanked me for helping out.
But she's unstable.
She wont put the gun down. And the way she wasn't bothered by the fact that she might soon be in close proximity to Freaks worries me. In fact, she almost looked glad. Grim. But glad.
Weirder shit's happened. I think the two are having sex right now.
And that is strange. Last time I was in there, the dude was out cold, fever raging, and starting to look inflamed. His hair was tumbling off in patches.
He's in no condition to be getting down and dirty.
But I hear the moans and the rocking squeaks. Shit. I wonder if it's possible to pass the infection through that?
07/13 | 04:07 AM
I'm seriously regretting helping those two.
Aside from taking some of my (limited!) food, the guy is as good as a Freak now. And the woman wont be able to kill him before it's too late. She's crying over his body in the other room, and I just suggested we kill him now before he changes completely. It'll take less ammo that way.
The bitch almost shot me there. So I backed the hell outta there and I'm holed up in my room now.
I've covered the hole into the basement with the bed. The room looks awkward, but I really want to keep the basement secret. I don't even know why.
Dawn is coming soon. I'm going to go warn the bitch that Freaks might be arriving soon to sleep for the day, so she should at least barricade the guestroom doors.
But she's fucked. She's going to lock herself up with that soon-to-be-Freak.
Man...
Aside from taking some of my (limited!) food, the guy is as good as a Freak now. And the woman wont be able to kill him before it's too late. She's crying over his body in the other room, and I just suggested we kill him now before he changes completely. It'll take less ammo that way.
The bitch almost shot me there. So I backed the hell outta there and I'm holed up in my room now.
I've covered the hole into the basement with the bed. The room looks awkward, but I really want to keep the basement secret. I don't even know why.
Dawn is coming soon. I'm going to go warn the bitch that Freaks might be arriving soon to sleep for the day, so she should at least barricade the guestroom doors.
But she's fucked. She's going to lock herself up with that soon-to-be-Freak.
Man...
Sunday, July 12, 2009
07/12 | 08:49 PM
A lot happened today.
I explored the basement earlier, I was sure I'd come across a writhing, wriggling hive of the damn rats, but it looks like I don't have to worry.
I started crawling around in the space under the house and man, it's gross. Dead rotting Rat chunks everywhere. Looks like they had themselves a good ole' slobber knocker down here a few days ago. And they ended up tearing each other apart. In fact, the rat that crawled up might have been the sole survivor. Tough little bitch (Tough little Jerry).
I was right. The basement looks secure. The steel bars around the house are intact, and while they wont keep out anymore Rats, they'll stand against infected humans.
I'm not entirely sure about how secure the structure is, a freaking van did crash into the wall and collapsed the entrance after all. But the van clogs the door well and the small spaces are negligible in terms of accessibility.
The basement is secure.
...Oh!
I've made a few friends today.
I was eating lunch today and gun shots fired. That, in itself, isn't too strange. A week earlier, gun shots were all you could hear outside. All day and all night. The battle. The one we lost.
The gun shots settled down and they became rarer as the days passed. Actually, besides the infected, I hadn't heard anything that could be associated with other uninfected humans for a few days now.
The gun shots came from outside, the backyard. They rang three times and then nothing. Quiet.
I was going to ignore it when I heard wails (which could have been the infected, I wouldn't have known) and someone screaming.
It was a woman, from the guestroom window, I spied her. She had a shaking handgun in one hand, and was cradling a limp man in the other.
Ha! Let me guess, in some stupid movie or fantasy story, this is the part where the strong buck survivor male stumbles upon the helpless smoking female and they join together. And screw like crazy.
No.
First of all, this woman as ugly as sin. She was also obese, and pregnant to top it off (I found out later). Turns out the man she cradled was her baby's daddy.
They'd been attacked (their attacker was a dead man, his headless body was heaped a few feet away from them, guess she's a pretty good shot?) by a frenzied survivor as they made their way across the city, through my backyard.
I almost got shot opening the door. Thank god her hands were shaking so hard. But I called out to her and with a few pleasantries ("Don't fucking shoot! I'm human!"), I helped her carry the man inside.
I have them situated in the second guestroom now. She wont leave his side. He's been shot, but he'll live. He took it in the arm. His real problem is a little more serious.
He's fucking infected. His left leg's been chewed on. Dunno by what. Probably a dog. But I wouldn't discount a human. The onset's already started. He's got a raging fever and he's barely conscious. If his body doesn't fight off the disease soon, it'll be too late.
Personally, I wanted to shoot him on the spot. Of course, the damn bitch is the one with the gun. And when I suggested he was done for, she gave me a look like she might just pop one off on me.
Shit, I dunno why I ever opened that damn door for them. They don't know about the basement, so I have that. But I've had to share some of my limited food stuffs with them.
The symptoms appearance in people are varied. A few become Freaks in a few hours. Others take a few days. Some are able to fight it off after awhile. I don't know the hows or whys. But it doesn't take a medical degree to know the guy is fucked.
Shit.
I explored the basement earlier, I was sure I'd come across a writhing, wriggling hive of the damn rats, but it looks like I don't have to worry.
I started crawling around in the space under the house and man, it's gross. Dead rotting Rat chunks everywhere. Looks like they had themselves a good ole' slobber knocker down here a few days ago. And they ended up tearing each other apart. In fact, the rat that crawled up might have been the sole survivor. Tough little bitch (Tough little Jerry).
I was right. The basement looks secure. The steel bars around the house are intact, and while they wont keep out anymore Rats, they'll stand against infected humans.
I'm not entirely sure about how secure the structure is, a freaking van did crash into the wall and collapsed the entrance after all. But the van clogs the door well and the small spaces are negligible in terms of accessibility.
The basement is secure.
...Oh!
I've made a few friends today.
I was eating lunch today and gun shots fired. That, in itself, isn't too strange. A week earlier, gun shots were all you could hear outside. All day and all night. The battle. The one we lost.
The gun shots settled down and they became rarer as the days passed. Actually, besides the infected, I hadn't heard anything that could be associated with other uninfected humans for a few days now.
The gun shots came from outside, the backyard. They rang three times and then nothing. Quiet.
I was going to ignore it when I heard wails (which could have been the infected, I wouldn't have known) and someone screaming.
It was a woman, from the guestroom window, I spied her. She had a shaking handgun in one hand, and was cradling a limp man in the other.
Ha! Let me guess, in some stupid movie or fantasy story, this is the part where the strong buck survivor male stumbles upon the helpless smoking female and they join together. And screw like crazy.
No.
First of all, this woman as ugly as sin. She was also obese, and pregnant to top it off (I found out later). Turns out the man she cradled was her baby's daddy.
They'd been attacked (their attacker was a dead man, his headless body was heaped a few feet away from them, guess she's a pretty good shot?) by a frenzied survivor as they made their way across the city, through my backyard.
I almost got shot opening the door. Thank god her hands were shaking so hard. But I called out to her and with a few pleasantries ("Don't fucking shoot! I'm human!"), I helped her carry the man inside.
I have them situated in the second guestroom now. She wont leave his side. He's been shot, but he'll live. He took it in the arm. His real problem is a little more serious.
He's fucking infected. His left leg's been chewed on. Dunno by what. Probably a dog. But I wouldn't discount a human. The onset's already started. He's got a raging fever and he's barely conscious. If his body doesn't fight off the disease soon, it'll be too late.
Personally, I wanted to shoot him on the spot. Of course, the damn bitch is the one with the gun. And when I suggested he was done for, she gave me a look like she might just pop one off on me.
Shit, I dunno why I ever opened that damn door for them. They don't know about the basement, so I have that. But I've had to share some of my limited food stuffs with them.
The symptoms appearance in people are varied. A few become Freaks in a few hours. Others take a few days. Some are able to fight it off after awhile. I don't know the hows or whys. But it doesn't take a medical degree to know the guy is fucked.
Shit.
07/12 | 04:57 AM
Hey, I'm alive. That's sort of a relief.
I thought another Freak Rat (I've started thinking of them as Jerrys – Get it? As in Tom and Jerry? My own private joke, cause that would make me Tom. Good old Tom, always getting the long end of that fucking stick) would crawl up the hole while I slept and (if I woke up), I'd find myself missing a sizable chunk of my side or legs.
But no. I'm whole (As far as I can see)! And maybe better yet, I had a good night's sleep. Something like, what? Ten hours? That's a first. And maaaannn... did I need it. I think my hand's were shaking from the strain before. My eyes hurt, though I'm guessing that's to be expected.
I covered up the hole yesterday. I piled the TV on top of it (not like I need it) and I suppose I'll have to go down below today, while the Freaks are asleep.
Not now. Later. I need to work up my courage. I'll feel better when day breaks.
Oh, I dreamed last night. Actually, I haven't had a single dream since I barricaded myself indoors a week ago. Whatever sleep I got was numb, short, and dreamless. I dreamt of my family. And a little brown puppy I owned a few years ago. It was nice.
I thought another Freak Rat (I've started thinking of them as Jerrys – Get it? As in Tom and Jerry? My own private joke, cause that would make me Tom. Good old Tom, always getting the long end of that fucking stick) would crawl up the hole while I slept and (if I woke up), I'd find myself missing a sizable chunk of my side or legs.
But no. I'm whole (As far as I can see)! And maybe better yet, I had a good night's sleep. Something like, what? Ten hours? That's a first. And maaaannn... did I need it. I think my hand's were shaking from the strain before. My eyes hurt, though I'm guessing that's to be expected.
I covered up the hole yesterday. I piled the TV on top of it (not like I need it) and I suppose I'll have to go down below today, while the Freaks are asleep.
Not now. Later. I need to work up my courage. I'll feel better when day breaks.
Oh, I dreamed last night. Actually, I haven't had a single dream since I barricaded myself indoors a week ago. Whatever sleep I got was numb, short, and dreamless. I dreamt of my family. And a little brown puppy I owned a few years ago. It was nice.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
07/11 | 05:17 PM
A freaking rat crawled out of the hole. Fucking worse yet, it was infected.
Went right for me, hairless motherfucker.
Squashed the gormless bastard's head with the bat. I don't know how, my hand's are shaking so hard.
I need to breathe. Relax.
But there might be more down there. Fuck. Fuck.
Went right for me, hairless motherfucker.
Squashed the gormless bastard's head with the bat. I don't know how, my hand's are shaking so hard.
I need to breathe. Relax.
But there might be more down there. Fuck. Fuck.
07/11 | 05:11 PM
The hole in my room is finally passable.
I had to slow down the progress. I don't know if the Freaks are back to sleep in the master bedroom, but I didn't want to take any chances.
I'm going to settle down to eat and maybe take a nap. I never knew how delicious canned corn was. The yams are disgusting.
My bedroom isn't actually directly above the basement room, I broke into a small crawlspace with sand that runs under the house. I'm guessing it's what the house is built on, though I'm not sure, I'm not a contractor or builder and this ain't exactly my area of expertise.
Well, I don't feel like belly crawling down there yet though. We've had rat problems before an
I had to slow down the progress. I don't know if the Freaks are back to sleep in the master bedroom, but I didn't want to take any chances.
I'm going to settle down to eat and maybe take a nap. I never knew how delicious canned corn was. The yams are disgusting.
My bedroom isn't actually directly above the basement room, I broke into a small crawlspace with sand that runs under the house. I'm guessing it's what the house is built on, though I'm not sure, I'm not a contractor or builder and this ain't exactly my area of expertise.
Well, I don't feel like belly crawling down there yet though. We've had rat problems before an
07/11 | 03:29 AM
I finally found a channel on the TV that's still broadcasting.
But it's not some promise of help from the government or search from survivors.
Channel 13; right now, it's playing a paid program I've seen before. Something about making money with the cash flow or whatever.
Absolute shit. Why or how it's even playing I dunno.
But it sorta feels comforting too...
But it's not some promise of help from the government or search from survivors.
Channel 13; right now, it's playing a paid program I've seen before. Something about making money with the cash flow or whatever.
Absolute shit. Why or how it's even playing I dunno.
But it sorta feels comforting too...
07/11 | 02:38 AM
Things are getting interesting. In that, oh, I might be torn apart any moment, kind of way.
My adrenaline just keeps flowing, and my nerves are long past shot. I'm going to sleep after this, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep long. I know this can't be healthy, but the rules are changing. Hell, they are changed. This is necessary.
I'm pretty sure the Freaks are nocturnal now.
I ventured out of my bedroom for the first time today, shortly after my last entry. The sounds coming from outside disappeared and I needed to eat. The fridge is wrecked, and the only food I found was soggy shit that had been previously frozen.
The kitchen window is smashed open. So is the living room sliding door. Which explains how they got in.
I slurped down some canned foods I found in drawers and brought the rest to the bedroom.
The big surprise came when I went looking in my parents master bedroom. Two Freaks were wrapped around each other, knocked out on what remained of the bed.
I froze on the spot, which was stupid, but lucky. They didn't awaken, and I must be loved by some holy deity for that. God, they were ugly. Two males by the looks of it. Bulky, hairless, and bulging. Their jaws were elongated, and rows of yellow blunt teeth jutted out. Their arms also seem unnaturally long, but I couldn't be sure. They were naked of course, their chest huge but their waist narrow, and surprisingly, their skull cavity is larger. Which is strange since intelligence is nowhere on a Freak's resume.
I managed to budge after about a minute and I backtracked back to my room. Which was hard to do, since now I was certain I could hear their wheezing breaths.
After a few hours thought, I was now sure they were nocturnal. The screams and sounds, now that I thought about it, decreased dramatically by day. Not that one might not sound shrilly now and then, but there was a, ah, noticeable difference in frequency.
And this knowledge gave me courage. I need permanent safety, I recognized. And although my room was a good start, it wont last forever. Especially if the Freaks are going to start nesting nearby.
Their senses, smell especially, are supposed to be keen. I was surprised (and thankful!) that they hadn't discovered me already. I have a theory about that actually. The closet I use to do my business. It actually stinks up my room more than I thought. Breathing in fresh air outside allowed me to recognize this, and man does it stink. I suppose this smell might be shielding my location.
I wont find safety here. I see that now. I need to get somewhere more hidden. Somewhere more secure. Yes, my bedroom is barricaded, but only with a tipped drawer and dresser. If something actually had reason to get in, it wouldn't hold for long.
I've been thinking for most of the day, trying to think of someplace close by that might be safe. Or at least, easy to defend. And then I remembered the basement.
I think it might be secure. Last year, my parents wielded metal frames on to all the opening spaces that lead under the house (precaution against raccoons and such) and the only entrance is a slanted wooden door in the backyard.
And there is the problem. The only entrance is blocked. My parents... our escape... the details don't matter. The problem now... the family van crashed right into the house, bringing down part of a wall and clogging up the entrance almost perfectly.
I... don't like going outside. Even if the Freaks are nocturnal. If it was just a matter of getting into the basement, I might be able to bear it, but going out there and searching for the keys of the van... looking through their bodies... I'm not numb enough. The mere thought hurts.
So I came up with another idea.
For the last few hours, I've been smashing through my bedroom floor with a metal bat. It's been hard going, but the carpet's ruined, and I've managed a small opening in the wood underneath. My hands hurt like a bitch and the bat is dented as hell.
I'll work on making it passable tomorrow. I've had to stop for now. The noises are back. The screams. The cries for help. The fear.
I can't give away my location. I'll stop for now.
My adrenaline just keeps flowing, and my nerves are long past shot. I'm going to sleep after this, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep long. I know this can't be healthy, but the rules are changing. Hell, they are changed. This is necessary.
I'm pretty sure the Freaks are nocturnal now.
I ventured out of my bedroom for the first time today, shortly after my last entry. The sounds coming from outside disappeared and I needed to eat. The fridge is wrecked, and the only food I found was soggy shit that had been previously frozen.
The kitchen window is smashed open. So is the living room sliding door. Which explains how they got in.
I slurped down some canned foods I found in drawers and brought the rest to the bedroom.
The big surprise came when I went looking in my parents master bedroom. Two Freaks were wrapped around each other, knocked out on what remained of the bed.
I froze on the spot, which was stupid, but lucky. They didn't awaken, and I must be loved by some holy deity for that. God, they were ugly. Two males by the looks of it. Bulky, hairless, and bulging. Their jaws were elongated, and rows of yellow blunt teeth jutted out. Their arms also seem unnaturally long, but I couldn't be sure. They were naked of course, their chest huge but their waist narrow, and surprisingly, their skull cavity is larger. Which is strange since intelligence is nowhere on a Freak's resume.
I managed to budge after about a minute and I backtracked back to my room. Which was hard to do, since now I was certain I could hear their wheezing breaths.
After a few hours thought, I was now sure they were nocturnal. The screams and sounds, now that I thought about it, decreased dramatically by day. Not that one might not sound shrilly now and then, but there was a, ah, noticeable difference in frequency.
And this knowledge gave me courage. I need permanent safety, I recognized. And although my room was a good start, it wont last forever. Especially if the Freaks are going to start nesting nearby.
Their senses, smell especially, are supposed to be keen. I was surprised (and thankful!) that they hadn't discovered me already. I have a theory about that actually. The closet I use to do my business. It actually stinks up my room more than I thought. Breathing in fresh air outside allowed me to recognize this, and man does it stink. I suppose this smell might be shielding my location.
I wont find safety here. I see that now. I need to get somewhere more hidden. Somewhere more secure. Yes, my bedroom is barricaded, but only with a tipped drawer and dresser. If something actually had reason to get in, it wouldn't hold for long.
I've been thinking for most of the day, trying to think of someplace close by that might be safe. Or at least, easy to defend. And then I remembered the basement.
I think it might be secure. Last year, my parents wielded metal frames on to all the opening spaces that lead under the house (precaution against raccoons and such) and the only entrance is a slanted wooden door in the backyard.
And there is the problem. The only entrance is blocked. My parents... our escape... the details don't matter. The problem now... the family van crashed right into the house, bringing down part of a wall and clogging up the entrance almost perfectly.
I... don't like going outside. Even if the Freaks are nocturnal. If it was just a matter of getting into the basement, I might be able to bear it, but going out there and searching for the keys of the van... looking through their bodies... I'm not numb enough. The mere thought hurts.
So I came up with another idea.
For the last few hours, I've been smashing through my bedroom floor with a metal bat. It's been hard going, but the carpet's ruined, and I've managed a small opening in the wood underneath. My hands hurt like a bitch and the bat is dented as hell.
I'll work on making it passable tomorrow. I've had to stop for now. The noises are back. The screams. The cries for help. The fear.
I can't give away my location. I'll stop for now.
Friday, July 10, 2009
07/10 | 11:16 AM
There's definitely a Freak in the house. And I'm worried.
Well, not so much worried, as freaking pissing my pants. These fucking walls aren't thick, and I've seen these things go through people like a car goes through a dog.
It's been moving around the free rooms for awhile. Through the master bedroom, through the living room and kitchen. I don't think it made it into the bathroom or guest rooms, but shit. Those rooms aren't barricaded like mine...
What really scares me is that it might not leave. I have no idea how these things survive. Their habits.
Well, fuck, I have a pretty clear picture of their diet but... are they nocturnal? When do they sleep? Do they sleep? And for how long?
Shit, for all I know, this thing's gonna make the house its... nest.
Worse yet, what it they aren't solitary? What if they move in packs?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I need to leave. Soon.
Well, not so much worried, as freaking pissing my pants. These fucking walls aren't thick, and I've seen these things go through people like a car goes through a dog.
It's been moving around the free rooms for awhile. Through the master bedroom, through the living room and kitchen. I don't think it made it into the bathroom or guest rooms, but shit. Those rooms aren't barricaded like mine...
What really scares me is that it might not leave. I have no idea how these things survive. Their habits.
Well, fuck, I have a pretty clear picture of their diet but... are they nocturnal? When do they sleep? Do they sleep? And for how long?
Shit, for all I know, this thing's gonna make the house its... nest.
Worse yet, what it they aren't solitary? What if they move in packs?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I need to leave. Soon.
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