Diary of a Zombie [ a work in progress]

         [NOTES: was thinking of having the story start out introducing a character, following his or her events, then the first character slowly dies from a zombie bite and the “diary” is handed of to another who continues the “story”.]

It’s been about 4 hours since we arrived here. I’m not sure if I have any chance of surviving. I’m writing in this journal as an effort to keep my sanity and if something terrible should happen to me, a reminder. I needed a distraction to keep my mind away from the horrible and incessant moaning of the bastards. Writing has always helped keep my mind settled during times of stress. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

         My name is Dawn Thompson.. Yesterday I was walking my usual shift at the bookstore in the college. I had recently got out of class and I heard a few people talking about strange attacks by zombie-men on the walk towards the bookstore, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. Who would think to stop and listen to people talking about zombie’s right? Like always, I was sitting on the wooden bench behind the counter reading the latest issue of writers digest when the front window of the bookstore came crashing in followed by the forms of two students wrestling each other. I was so startled by the incident I had fallen backwards off of the stool. When I lifted my head towards the two men it look liked one of them had bitten the other all over the face. I couldn’t move, stuck on the floor watching the grisly scene, frozen in ice-cold terror. Nothing will ever let me forget the moment when the man being mauled went limp and the killer’s head turned, bloodshot eyes locking onto mine, never leaving them, as it slowly arched up from the now still body pieces of stringy flesh hanging from its mouth. Trembling, I picked myself up and dashed out of the back entrance towards my little white sedan. While I was sprinting down the college campus towards the parking lot I could see lots of other people doing the same thing as I.
         After I had gotten into the car, fumbled around for my keys, and started the engine, an older man who looked like a teacher I had seen on campus stumbled into the side of the car and kept pawing at the door handle drunkenly. I screamed at him to stop before I hit him with the car, but he kept on trying to get a grip on the handle. So I threw the car into gear and whipped out of that place, watching the man behind me slowly wave his outstretched arms at me.
         After immediately driving top speed to the highway onramp I flipped on the radio as soon as the car had hit the speed limit. The droning sound of the tires on the pavement a much-needed respite from the scene I had just witnessed. I turned the stations until I found a news channel or what at least sounded like one. The women reporter kept repeating something about the state being in some kind of red alert and that everyone should go immediately to there homes where they should barricade all windows and doors against any outside intrusions. There were reports of hundreds of cannibalistic attacks all across New England and possibly across the entire United States. All of these murders and attacks being reported within only a few hours. The source of the problem, and the attacks, were to fast to pinpoint and the aftermath is growing rapidly.
         I knew what they were saying, it sounded like a cheesy zombie movie. I couldn’t believe it. I still barely can.
         After taking the exit off of the highway you could see part of what was on the news all around the road. On the drive towards my house I could see a few car accidents and what looked like a small group of zombies crawling all over some poor person. I don’t even want to think about what was happening to the person underneath the zombie mass, I can only hope they weren’t alive.
         I decided to slow down as I drove by my best friend Danes house. It was insane and like it was a scene from a action movie, as soon as I hit the brake pedal to slow down the door exploded outward in a shower of splinters as Dane barreled though it. I watched as he lost his balance and stumbled onto the grass in front of his house. Like a rabid animal he scrambled to his feet obviously ignoring the pain from breaking down his front door. I was so thankful that when Dane got his bearing he happened to see me in the car not to far from his house. Behind him stalked a bloody mess of a man, with a kitchen knife grotesquely hanging sideways out of his neck and bobbing up and down as he slowly made his way down the steps outside of Danes house.
         Quickly Dane made his way towards my car but I could tell he was hurt by the way he was walking. He looked like a completely different person. His hair all matted down with blood, clothes ripped, cuts on his face. He was a larger then average man, so in his new condition he looked the part of a scared and hardened warrior. I felt an uprising surge of safety right as he sat next to me in the car. I somehow knew he was going to save me.
         Dane was going to get me away from whatever was happening. He told me about how a few deranged people had made there way into his house and attacked him. He said he ended up fighting them off with his hunting knife even though they didn’t seem to feel any of the cuts he landed on them. I told him about the reports on the news and he hasn’t really said much more since. After driving another ten minutes in silence he turned to me and said that his brother was now dead. I knew he didn’t want to speak anymore so I just kept driving in silence; his brother was only thirteen years old. I couldn’t keep from crying so I just wiped the tears away and kept on driving.
         We decided to head towards my house, his house was obviously not safe anymore and the only thing we could think to do was listen to what the broadcast was saying. Witch was to stay home and secure all entrances.
         I didn’t have any nails or wooden boards at my house so Dane decided to go search the neighbors shed. My place is a small one-bedroom house on a slight uphill slope with a few other small houses at the end of a dead end street.
         Luckily Dane came back with a lot of what we needed, he found a good portion of the wood we needed to board up the windows and a empty paint can full of different sized nails. He also had with him an old rusty wood chopping axe, a hammer, a small stack of random long handled tools, and mud encrusted knife.
         


[Later in the story]
*As I reached down to take the notebook from her hands I could see that she was beginning to stir, to turn into one of them. I quickly retrieved the book and made my way out of the room. As I closed and locked the door I saw her sit up, the silhouette of her upper body illuminated in small streaks by the moonlight creeping through the cracks and openings in the boards on the window. In that one moment she looked peaceful, almost beautiful, even though I know she was no longer the person in that room. I know she would eventually become a threat to someone else, but sadly I do not care. I couldn’t bear doing any of the things I was forced to do to the others in order to save myself. I can only leave her alone in that room and imagine that she stays locked in there forever, unable to do the same terrible acts the other ones that had changed have done.