Haven’t been out much this week. It is hot. Too hot. The kind that saps you the moment you’re in it.
And… the thing is… they smell. The zombies. They smell bad. Obviously, they smell bad. But all that rotting flesh in this heat. I can cope with a lot, but the smell is just too much…
On my last run I stopped to throw-up and one of them almost got me. A crawler. Hate crawlers. Hate the whole lot of them.
How can the dead move?
It’s just… it’s getting to me this week.
I’m meant to go out later. There’s a break in the weather so it’ll probably be ok. Sometimes I think it’s weird how we’re given numbers. The psychology of it, I mean. Are the numbers meant to make it easier when a zom finally gets us? It’s like we weren’t really here.
Well. I was here – am here. I am here. This diary proves that.
Maybe I’ll even tell you my name.
The role-playing game I’ve been writing/failing to write, is definitely on hold.
Tensions are growing between Abel Township and New Canton. Everyone seems to be on edge.
I think it’s all down to miscommunication. As stupid as that sounds. Madness.
We have survived the worst thing to happen to the human species, only to mess up by not talking to one another. Maybe we should be reduced to mumbles and groans. What’s the point if we can’t get it together to… get it together?
In other news, Janine saw me reading through this book the other day. She raised her eyebrows. Yep. I received the hook-eye-look. And then she said, ‘I hope you’re not hoarding any more resources?’
I shrugged and said, ‘Just crack.’
She’s got a point I guess. I should share the drugs…
Things with New Canton seem to be getting worse. I’m not really sure how something like this can happen. How can some of the only surviving humans be at odds? You’d think that we all have enough to deal with now to stop fighting amongst ourselves…
All of this stuff is just beyond me. And so, it would seem, is my roleplaying game.
It is not amazing.
Writing one of these things is hard!
Why did I start this? I feel like I have to keep going now – but it’s just… bleh. All of my non-player characters are bleh.
Here’s an example of something that I actually wrote:
‘You arrive at the foot of the mountain. There is no way up the mountain, but to your right you see a cave opening.’
The players would have to go into the cave, right? That’s what I want them to do. But what a crap way to do it! If I were playing this game I’d try to climb the chuffing mountain anyway.
I don’t even know what my players are meant to be achieving. Why did I start this? Why?
The doc and Sam got me to join them for a role-playing game. The warlock and wizard kind. Not the sexy kind. Unless warlocks and wizards are sexy to you…
I was sceptical to start with. I played the odd videogame before the apocalypse, but I never sat round a table negotiating whether to go down the-foreboding-road-of-certain-treasure or take the-bright-pathway-of-mediocrity. But it was one of the best nights – if only we had beer! I miss beer.
I think I’m hooked. Or it could be the lack of entertainment in the last few months. Bit busy trying to get on with the pesky job of survival and all that. Anyway, on my next run I’m going to see if I can head to town and grab a couple more games from the geek shop. Ooh and some beer!
Or maybe I could write one. I could write one.
It can’t be that hard, right? I had to make my character… I’m gonna do it! I am totally gonna do it and it will be amazing.
Been a week or so since I wrote that last entry. It’s hard to find a space where no one’s looking over your shoulder, you know? Not that I’m doing anything wrong. I’m just writing in a notebook. Still… not sure exactly who to trust here. There’s a whole ‘thing’ with this place called New Canton. They’re, I don’t know, the enemy or something. Because just being at odds with the undead isn’t enough.
They are kinda weird though. I saved this one bloke but then, well, it didn’t really matter in the end. And then they tried to capture me which felt a little bit ‘24-hours later’… And they’ve shot at me. But this guy, he was just like me really. A runner, trying to make the best of it. So, they can’t all be ‘bad’. I wonder what they think of Abel Township… All I know is that we seem to see the best and the worst of human nature. Some people go to extraordinary lengths to help others, or they’re just somehow decent to one another… you know, with the little stuff. The everyday sort of kindness. And others, they seem to become something else. Something worse than monsters.
I could use a holiday. A real holiday. Somewhere warm and zombie-free. With showers. Warm showers! And there we go. I am going to be yearning for a warm shower all day now. This is probably why I never kept a diary before the apocalypse – I ramble…
I’ve been at Abel Township for months now. An official runner for the past few weeks.
Just got back from a supply mission. That’s when I found this. I should really hand it in, but I don’t think anyone will begrudge me a notebook and a pen… Well, maybe Janine…
When I first arrived here I wasn’t exactly a ‘runner’. I mean, the helicopter was shot down and I had to run here to survive. It was that or, well, you know… get ripped apart by zombies. Then become a zombie. Then rip someone else apart to really solidify my place in the undead crowd. Who can deal with that kind of pressure? So yeah – I ran my ass off, and when I got here they raised the gate, let me in, and told me I’d be training with the doc to become a runner.
There it is.
Sometimes miss the doc’s voice on the radio. I don’t miss her telling me to skip for a bit because, ‘It will really increase your strength and speed.’
Still got Sam though. Gotta love Sam.
And now I have this book. So. Yeah.
I’m not much of a talker. But I think that writing in here from time to time. Well… it just might help a bit.