5/3/2014

5/3/2014

Happy Saturday. Woke up this morning to the smell of bacon. Mr. Hammond had gone downstairs in the middle of the night, grabbed some bacon and eggs from out of the freezer, and brought them up here for us this morning. He took my axe, just in case any of them had broken in after we tossed Sasha outside. Luckily, a few of them had wandered away, thanks to what he said sounded like gunshots. I guess some people are fighting back against the dead, as opposed to looting gas stations and robbing teenage boys at gunpoint.

Karen was already awake, helping her dad in the kitchen. Despite the fact that their home sat on top of a resturaunt, Karen and her dad still had a kitchen in the upstairs portion of the house. They felt it was easier than having to stay downstairs and cook for themselves after spending the whole day downstairs cooking for their customers, and I can't blame them. I must have had an emptier stomach than I thought I did, because I wolfed the bacon and eggs down pretty damn fast. So fast, in fact, that I offered to cook extra for everybody. Mr. Hammond laughed at it all. “The world goes to hell, and you're still cookin' for the breakfast crowd,” he said, and that got Karen and I laughing too. The situation was a clean spot in the middle of a whole lot of shit.

Today was pretty easy. Karen and I just spent the day watching all the dead outside, studying them. She told me something that just plain disturbed me. On Wednesday, when my parents and I heard that first broadcast, they didn't say anything about why the dead were attacking the living. At some point on Thursday, after cell phone service was taken away from us, there had been another broadcast, this one just a regular Joe who had hijacked a radio station. He was still broadcasting, actually. This guy explained that the dead were actually eating the living. I thought back to my mom attacking my dad, and it made sense. After ripping off that piece of his arm, she just sat there on my bed and munched on it for however long it took my dad to get back up, and after that, I was the only living thing in the house. Mrs. Ferguson must not have been killed by one of the dead, because she was relatively wound-free, kind of like that guy I killed.

That leads me to the one dark spot in the day. A woman drove up to the resturaunt, didn't see us, and tried to get in through the front door after most of the dead had been led away. Like I said, she didn't know we were there, but she must have wanted someone to be there, because she started yelling toward Karen's open bedroom window. She and I stayed out of sight while the woman screamed, but we both looked out when the homeless man grabbed her from behind and took a very large bite out of her neck. Karen grabbed hold of me and just started crying, so I shut the window and closed the mini-blinds, then spent the better part of an hour consoling her. The woman, sadly, took a very long time to die. Hearing her scream turn into a gurgle and then finally die off is something I really hope I forget soon.

One thing I forgot to mention is that the internet is still working. Interestingly, a lot of websites that required you to pay, like Netflix, Hulu Plus and that sort of thing, are now a hundred percent free. I guess when the country goes to hell, you drop the prices. I spent some of the day catching up on episodes of Arrow and The Following. Karen surfed the web looking for news, finding out that there was a bit of a fight at the Canadian border, and some of the dead made it up north of the US. Mexico still seemed to be doing okay, though, but that could have to do with most of Mexico being up here in the US. Some of the bigger cities are worse off than our small little town, and that scares the hell out of me. I doubt there's that many living people here, so there must be less in the bigger cities.

Well, it's nighttime now. Again, I'm writing by candlelight. Thankfully, Karen's a freak for candles, she buys them every single payday. I'm sleeping on the couch, while Karen sleeps in her bedroom. Mr. Hammond went to bed about an hour ago. Y'know, I'm sure it'd be any guy's dream, to need to live in his girlfriend's house and sleep with her while he does. I just can't. I'm weird, I guess. Maybe it's the fear that her dad will take my axe and chop my head off if he finds us, but I'm sure he actually wouldn't mind if we slept in the same bed. I still just can't. I was raised very traditionally, you don't sleep with a girl until you're married or at least mature enough to take care of a kid.

I'm going to bed now, journal. Write in ya tomorrow.