Fearless: A Survivor's Account of the Zombie Apocalypse

Fearless

A survivor's account of the zombie apocalypse.

Patricia Hamill

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Patricia Hamill

All rights reserved.

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Table of Contents

Part One-Fall, Year One

Part Two-Winter, Year Two

Part Three-Spring, Year Two

Part Four-Summer, Year Two

Part Five-Fall, Year Two

Part Six-Winter, Year Two

Epilogue-Spring, Year Three

Author's Note

About the Author

Connect with me Online

Part One-Fall, Year One

Sept. 30, Y1

I'm afraid I'm not much of a writer, so bear with me. Today, we found a relatively untouched grocery store, which is where I found this notepad and some pencils. The others laughed when I claimed these meager supplies, and I suppose they could be right. Paper and pencils, you can't eat them can you? Plus, I'll have to carry them. But that's not the point is it?

The point is who else will tell our story, our nightmare? How will future generations learn of our struggles in these dark times if not through the written word? That is, of course, if there are future generations. . . Gotta go, the others have spotted something.

—I'm back. We managed to fight them off this time, but it was close. How long can we go on like this, I wonder? Only eight of us now, down from eleven. It doesn't take much: a bite, a scratch, a bit of blood. It's quick, too, barely any time for goodbyes. That's how Rob went. He hadn't even noticed the wound, a tiny scratch on the back of his arm. We found it after.

Elated from the adrenaline of our latest mini-victory, celebrating another chance at life, none of us noticed at first. It was merely chance that I glanced over at Rob when the first signs manifested. His face was frozen in a half smile, but his eyes were glazing over and the emotion behind the smile was fading fast. I remember my heart leaping into my throat as the last traces of humanity were swept away and his vacant eyes took on a more sinister look, taking notice of us for the first time, a stranger in our midst, a monster.

I took him out myself, my heart breaking at the last stroke when he finally toppled to the ground. Better me than a stranger. At least we were able to bury him.

Oct. 2, Y1

Another day dawns, and I write this as we prepare to go. A grocery store is a great find, but indefensible. They just aren't built to keep people out. Are they still people? That I don't know. Tracy says they aren't. How could they be? I hope she's right; I couldn't bear to think that Rob. . . No, I won't think about that now.

I've done terrible things since all this started, necessary, but terrible. The past is past; the future is on my shoulders. There aren't enough of us left to worry about right and wrong, at least not in the traditional sense. No, right needs a new definition, as does wrong. Something better suited to our new goal, the goal of mankind: survival.

We're moving out, I'll write later. . . I hope.

Oct. 4, Y1

It's been a couple of days since the grocery store. Seven of us left now, the countdown, as I call it. A sick little score card in a game we can't win. The world is doomed, I'm doomed. What matters anymore? Nothing . . . nothing. . .

Oct. 6, Y1

Sorry about that last entry. I lost it for a while. Tracy's gone. She was my best friend in high school, long before all this started. We used to hang out at the Dairy Queen, talking about the future, college, boys, and all those things that young girls do. I'll miss her. She was lucky though, she didn't have time to turn. She was gone before that could happen. Maybe it was me that was lucky. I don't know if I could take out another friend. I didn't have to this time.

Sorry Tracy, I shouldn't talk like that. Maybe it's for the best. You once said life was over for us. All we had left was dying. Well, you can rest now. No more running, no more half living, starving, or fear. You have it better than me now, I think. Until we meet again. . .

Oct 8, Y1

I'm feeling better today. We managed to find a jail today, a small one, but that's fine with me. It's more security than any of us is used to anymore. Too bad our supplies are running low. The others are talking about scouting for food, splitting up to cover more ground. Fools, strength comes with numbers. Fewer people mean a good chance of not making it back. There aren't many of us left anyway, we can't risk it. I've gotta go or I won't have a say in this.

Oct. 12, Y1

Damn cough, keeps coming back. It's hard to hide with it. We've already had more than our usual share of trouble since I caught this cold.

The others are huddled over there now casting me daggers with their eyes, as if this couldn't happen to them, too. I think they'd leave me behind if there weren't already so few of us. Besides, I've become a fair fighter since all this started and I hold my own. They need me, and I hate to admit it, but I need them, too.

All we have is a few hours before we have to move again, so long as none of them notice us sooner. Damn cough. . .

Oct. 13, Y1

Success! We found others like us. Now there are fifteen of us. Plus eight to the score card! We came across them yesterday, fighting off a troupe of them. Together, we made short work of it. They aren't that smart after they turn -- dangerous yes, but not smart. Thank god! Anyways, we've got enough people now to put up a good fight if we have to.

I refuse to learn their names. If you don't know a name, you can't be hurt when they go. I have no friends any more, all are lost. I'm not going to make that mistake again. The others don't see it that way. They're all over there reminiscing, comparing notes. I'm going to bed.

Oct. 15, Y1

Unlucky thirteen, two of our newest members thought they'd run off for a bit of private entertainment, if you know what I mean . . . Fools . . . Well survival of the fittest I guess. Funny way of putting it, I don't feel like the fittest, yet here I am, one of a handful of survivors, no training, no physical conditioning. Heck, I used to work in an office and think the value menu at Wendy's was health food. Anyways, we had to mark those two off the roster this morning when they came up missing. Maybe we'll see them again, but my guess is that it won't be pretty when we do. We're moving again.

Oct. 16, Y1

Only have a minute, we ran into a horde of the things and had to run for it. I think we lost them, but the others don't want to risk a long break on that assumption. Looks like it'll be another long night. At least I'll be getting a good workout from it.

Oct. 28, Y1

God I'm sick of these people. I thought I'd left office politics behind when all this started. I guess not. The others have broken off into two factions, backing one or the other of two guys who fancy themselves leaders. I don't care which is in charge, so long as they keep us together and hopefully alive. It's probably the hunger. Some of the others think their guy might be better at finding us some food. Pointless really, we're wasting time arguing instead of looking.

Great, one of the ringleaders is coming my way. Probably wants me to pick a side. . .

Oct. 29, Y1

Well, new guy won. I'll call him our Fearless Leader for now, at least until he proves me wrong. Anyway, Fearless Leader says we've got to find a place to hole up through winter, easier said than done. It's gotta be somewhere defensible, but we need food and warmth, too. Wonderful, just wonderful . . . Time's running out. I better get over there or I won't get a say in it. Maybe a school? I don't know. . .

—The others liked my idea. We're going to try to find a school. I hope we don't find any little ones in there; the thought turns my stomach. I no longer hope to find survivors. I just don't think there are many of us around anymore. For all we know, this could be it. Another night we have to huddle together for warmth. There's no choice. Keeping a fire is out of the question. Until tomorrow, then. . .

Oct. 30, Y1

Finally, the guy who's in charge, or thinks he is anyway, has called a stop. We're going to crash here for a few hours, try to get some sleep. I pulled first watch so that's why I'm writing instead of sleeping. I'll hear them before I see them; that is how it goes. Not that they're very loud on their own, they aren't. It's more like an absence of sound, almost like nature holding its breath. Like those corny lines in movies where the hero says, It's quiet, too quiet. They had it right, though, they had it right. The others are settling down, so I've got to pay attention now. Hope I'll be able to sleep when it's my turn. . .

Oct. 31, Y1

Easy watch, nothing happened. Time's up, though, gotta move on. The Blonde Guy just woke me up. Too bad there's no food left. It's been a while since we came across a stash. I wonder what we're going to do when winter comes. What will they do? Maybe they'll freeze in place, and we can take a break. Of course, maybe we'll freeze in place, and it will be irrelevant. It's already getting cold, but at least it's a dry cold. I used to love fall, now I don't know. Maybe we'll come across a pumpkin patch or something. Trick or treat? I guess it's trick. . .

—Fearless Leader is dead. So much for the school idea, we found one, but it was overrun. Looked like another group of roamers thought the same thing, but it didn't work out for them. It's bad in there, really bad. Most of us managed to get away, but now we're down to ten. It was a costly gambit. Blonde Guy's still here, though. He's watching me again. I wish he wouldn't. Gotta move. . .

Nov. 4, Y1

The others are still stuck on the school idea, guess they didn't learn. Still, maybe we'll get lucky. I won't hold my breath, though. We're holed up in a library for the moment; it feels strange to be able to sit in a proper chair at a proper desk for once. This place would be perfect except there's no food. Maybe we could lock this place up behind us and get some, bring it back.

Fire, we can have fire in here. Paper burns really well. Too bad, really, but who's left to read these books anyway. Yes, this place would work nicely, and we won't even have to fight to acquire it. Doors are thick, good locks, windows high up. They don't climb; that helps.

I'd better sign off for now so I can tell the others my ideas. Sometimes I get the feeling they don't like me, but I think they'll listen to reason.

Nov. 5, Y1

We found a stash of food today in a nearby house. Blonde Guy and I figured that the surrounding neighborhood might be a good place to find stuff for stocking up the library. Luckily, we convinced the others to go along with the plan. Only one problem, turns out we have no way to lock up the library from the outside, so we're stuck leaving someone behind to let us back in. Nine's a good number though; we can afford to leave someone. It's better than coming back to find our new residence taken over, or worse.

Anyway, our first scouting mission was a success, what a relief. We'll eat well tonight to celebrate. Tomorrow, it's back to rationing though. Oh yeah, and it looks like the others have a new Fearless Leader picked out: me. Geez how'd that happen?

Nov. 6, Y1

No casualties today, but not for lack of conflict. We had to defend our new holding for the first time this morning. The scouting team was just setting out for the day when a group of them rounded the corner of the building. Like an ambush, they were on us before we could blink. Good thing we're all pros at this now. Plus it helps that we're wearing cold weather clothes, harder to get an incidental injury. They have to really get us good to turn us now.

I counted twenty-eight of them when all was done and settled. The others are dragging them off a ways as I write this. We don't want to advertise our presence with a pile of bodies on our doorstep. Anyways, I don't think it was a real ambush; they often run in packs, a remnant of social instincts I guess. Besides that, I doubt they are thinking creatures anymore. It would be bad in more ways than one if they were. Well, gotta go. The others are back.

Nov. 8, Y1

The days are running together as we prepare for winter. Every day a team goes out to scavenge. We've already exhausted the resources in the nearby neighborhoods, so the last team was planning to stay out overnight. Today is day two for them, so we're all hoping they'll be back soon. I'm not sure what will happen if the day comes that the scout team doesn't come back. It could happen; they are still out there. Even so, we had to cut down on the size of the teams, because there's just too much to do here.

After all, getting the stuff in the door doesn't make it useful. The home team sorts it all and we've organized the supplies by type. The rest of our time is spent pulling books on survival, agriculture, and other useful topics. We'll spare them from the fire, if possible. Until then, we'll do our best to learn what we can from them.

I hate to say it, but I think we'll have to move on after winter, sooner if our efforts now aren't enough to last.

Blonde Guy just told me the team's back. They aren't alone. . .

Nov. 9, Y1

Our group has grown. Yesterday, the scout team came back with five new roamers, skin and bones, but alive. Right now they're resting. Soon we'll know if they'll want to stay with us or move on, but for now I'm just glad of the new faces. Blonde Guy tells me they're in bad shape, no good to us yet for scouting or scavenging. I don't know; it's too soon to tell.

My worry is can we trust them? They're only fit for home team work,