by Chris Lane
Half reconnaissance and half gathering wood I left the house today. At a good distance I saw a zombie down by the water in fishing gear, just standing there, swaying, and staring? out over the water. Do they think? Then it ripped off part of its own arm and gnawed on it like it was beef jerky.
We haven’t seen any zombies preying on each other, let alone eating themselves. Was this zombie “starving?” If isolated from live humans, which they’re definitely interested in eating, do they eat each other? Was this zombie recently dead enough to consider itself still “fresh”? Was glad to get back to the house.
January 24, 2012
Found a pair of binoculars in the house today—very useful for observing things from a safe distance. This afternoon, from a top-floor window, I was able to witness something that I believe is relevant to understanding the zombies’ physical decomposition.
At different times I saw two of them shuffling down the road. The first one moved slower, looking more ashy, more “off”, with veins and deep tissue layers emergent. The second one, a postal worker, looked “fresher”—visible decay but less of it, and moving at a quicker pace. My guess is that he had died within the last day or two? What stood out the most to me was the expression on the mailman's face. Like he was frozen in mid-scream even though he didn't make a sound.
I’ve sketched a progressive chart that features the breakdown of living tissue into undead flesh based on the two I observed:
This might be both good and bad news. The good being that natural decomposition is occurring in the walking corpses, which would mean that within a few weeks, they should rot enough to not be much of a further threat. The bad, however, as we know from Jeri’s story, is that not everyone is affected at the same time. Need to make further observations on this.
A little freaked out that the zombies passed within sight of the house.
January 25, 2012
Took a bicycle from the shed today and rode out, I’d estimate 3 or 4 miles, and found a small commercial area in a valley past the edge of the woods. The dead of what must have been the town are still congregated here. Why? Cautiously, I’ve been observing and sketching it from a hidden vantage point. They’re not eating each other, the fisherman must have been some sort of aberration. They’re not exactly interacting with each other, either, just sort of they’re just wandering aimlessly. A legless zombie just crawled over to butt its head against a glass door, now just sort of looking inside. There's one with a . . . purse? And their jaws are all moving, chewing? Through the binoculars, the raw areas around the mouths, lack of cheeks, tongues, suggests a gnawing of their own soft tissue, but not extensive cannibalism. I’m wondering if this activity parallels the living’s preoccupation with the mouth—eating, smoking, biting nails, sipping coffee, whistling, speaking, chewing gum, grinding teeth, etc. Their systems can’t need or process food. Is living human flesh some sort of connection with life, some sort of “comfort food” to the undead?
More evidence of zombies retaining living behaviors in death. I’m by a little country church and a wedding party.
Did they succumb together and are now, sticking together? Out of familiarity? Are there zombie families “living” inside of houses in the area?
January 26, 2012
Noticing for the first time the contents of the newspapers we’re using for the fires. Ads. The sports section. Vestiges of society we’re not sure is ever coming back.
And this:
Are GMOs Responsible For Sickness?
* * *
By JEFF KRIEGE
SEATTLE, Wash. — Leading food additive manufacturer Primodine Laboratories was placed under quarantine Saturday, according to officials at the Centers for Disease Control. Compounds sourced from the Primodine facility are suspected to be responsible for the violent illness and deaths of an estimated 16 million people in developed countries worldwide.
According to the CDC spokesperson Kevin Byron, “While testing has proven inconclusive, indications point to the cumulative effect of an additive produced and distributed from the Primodine site. We do not expect this quarantine to have an immediate effect on the pandemic, but believe it to be a crucial measure.”
Primodine, located north of Seattle in Bellingham, Wash. has been owned by the InfraNeuronics Corporation since 1998. INC chairman and CEO Michael Healy released a statement on
Continued on page 7
Primodine has a serious R&D facility up in Bellingham that hires all the Chem grads from UW and Western. They should just give them lab coats instead of caps and gowns. Regularly protested by the Poli Sci students for its military contracts—the company's behind everything from cleaning solvents to automobile tires to wonderfood additives, like C88. “C88—Tastes Great! An All-Natural Flavor Enhancer That Brings Your Favorite Foods to Life!” After seeing the gnawing activities yesterday Here are ads for it in chips, chocolate, instant soup, chicken nuggets . . .
January 27, 2012
Approximately two miles northwest from the house today I observed a zombie biker group. NOT riding their bikes—luckily no evidence that the dead have any vestigial recollection of technology, what it means, what to do with it. But they do seem to have some recognition of social order or hierarchy, at least this group did. Maybe I’m projecting my beliefs about bikers, but they seemed to be milling around a central figure. Not that he, or they, were actually doing much of anything. Not actively hunting for food. They all appeared to be at the same stage of decay, which I would theorize means they were afflicted at the same time. Likely endemic among tight-knit groups.
January 28, 2012
Out of the house again in the early morning hours. Went out alone, again. (I should say, Jeri and Ryan think I’m nuts.)
In a clearing, I came upon a small campsite with tents and a fire pit, still kind of steaming in the mist, probably burning the night before. I almost called out, but thought better. Working my way around to the other side of the tents I heard there was a wet gnawing sound, some snapping. A little further I used the binoculars to see a hunting party, three or four, rending another one of the group apart. Watched for as long as I could stomach, a few minutes? Couldn’t let myself vomit. Two of the zombies seemed to be just kids, 13 or 14. A family? That they’d turned on each other suggests a different rate of infection among them. This is not far from the house. We’d passed a few days without direct incident and I’m understanding now that the sense of security we’ve been enjoying is false.
January 29, 2012
A bad day. I headed off in a different direction and came across an overturned bus. As I approached, they came out of the woods. Were they hiding? Can they plan? Faster than I’d expected, maybe because of their youth, a class, maybe a dozen 8-10 year olds. Not children.
I ran and they followed. I made it to the house, Jeri, Ryan, and JoJo were outside poking around in the shed.
JoJo charged, barking, and leapt on the “boy” closest to me, knocking it over and coming away with part of its arm in his mouth.
Ryan had luck with the gun on that one (a center shot in the forehead) but head shots only slowed the next one. Kerosene and the lighter worked, but not immediately—they would stagger and struggle before being consumed in fire and falling to the ground, flesh bubbling.
Jeri had the bat and I had an axe. I took the head off one. Whatever passes for a nervous system kept it in motion for a moment before it fell. Bashing the cranial area, repeatedly, puts them down. If we couldn’t get heads, we went for limbs to drop them and set the writhing little bodies and their hungry, decaying faces ablaze.
Inside now. It’s not safe. We made a lot of noise.
January 30, 2012
Everyone’s dead.
Jeri was bitten in the attack. For a short time she was able to hide it from me and Ryan. We took her symptoms, pale, sweating, rapid breathing, for the aftermath of the attack, and didn’t resist when she wanted to sleep upstairs while we kept watch downstairs. JoJo stayed downstairs with us. Later that n
ight she turned on us.
She bit Ryan on the neck and tried to tear him apart. I took a shovel and got her in the head and she fell off Ryan. JoJo tore at her. With another swing I knocked her in front of the fireplace. I was able to get a clean slice at her gnashing mouth, cleaving her jaw, before the rest of her caught fire. Then the house caught fire.
Our packs had been ready in case we had to flee an attack from the outside and I managed to grab mine and Ryan’s. We stood panting out on the lawn. We knew what the bite meant. Ryan turned and ran away from me, into the woods. The fire was already drawing zombies. JoJo growled at them, barking and snarling, but he would also not leave the vicinity of the house. I couldn’t convince him to come with me, and I ran.
January 31, 2012
DEFENSE AGAINST THE LIVING DEAD
Guns: Mostly useless. “small caliber” (9mm and .22) are only effective with a perfect shot or at close range. Aim for the frontal lobe. Bigger guns might do more damage, I don’t know. Ryan would know. The impact of the bullet anywhere can slow or knock them down. That’s something.
Hydrofluoric acid: Any acid corrosive to human tissue could be effective, but it would HAVE TO BE APPLIED TO THE HEAD. They seem to have at least primal cognitive ability? And the center of that drive seems to be whatever animating force is still functioning in the brain tissue.
Axe: Dismemberment is THE WAY TO GO in slowing them down. Off with the head.
Bludgeon: Blunt force is more effective than firearms are in terms of keeping them back at close range. You can bash whatever brains they have in but I can’t I mean, you get tired. They don’t get tired.
Extreme cold: Cold seems to adversely affect their physiology. I haven’t actually touched the flesh of one of them, but without function of human systems, they must it stands to reason already be at no warmer than ambient atmospheric conditions? Reduction of that temperature seems to hamper a zombie’s capability for motion, tightening tendons, muscles, and ligaments? A living person might take advantage of this in relocating or already living in extreme northern or southern regions.
Fire: Effective in that it destroys tissue, but the infected retain mobility for an unpredictable length of time until fire has done a fundamental level of immobilizing damage. They keep coming.
OTHER FACTORS
Birds: Species that feed on carrion as a natural part of their diet—crows, hawks—seem to have a taste for undead flesh. Species that would normally feed only on a carcass seem to have some sort of innate understanding that zombies are “already dead” and don’t seem to be put off by motion. Still, they prefer zombies in what seem to be later stages of decay, when mobility is decreased. With great satisfaction, I’ve firsthand seen a crow pluck rotten tissue from reanimated dead.
Dogs: Highly socialized to human contact and interaction, dogs are particularly freaked out by the presence of the undead. They will bristle and bark in their presence and even willfully attack a nonhuman. It is unknown if animals are infected—as are humans— by contact with zombies. None of the wildlife (squirrels, birds, a raccoon) or dogs that I have seen have shown any outward signs of infection or derangement, but I am not sure what those signs might be. In any event, contact with the dead by animal species might render that animal a carrier of the unknown element that has infected humans.
February 1, 2012
I’m alone. I’m not sure why I’m even keeping this notebook. There doesn’t seem to be much point. Death is everywhere. Even the living are dead. I may be as good as dead. What I have, I have this notebook, and:
The axe
Food (a week’s worth?) and water
The GPS
A watch (why?)
Ryan’s .22, ammo
Clothes (important, it’s cold)
A lighter
A tent (terrified of using, can’t risk being trapped inside if I need to run, wrapping it around me like a sleeping bag)
Flashlight, batteries
What I also have is the woods. Never sure if the next cracking branch or brush of leaves is an animal—a fellow survivor of the natural world—or something worse.
February 3, 2012
Woke up today to a sword at my neck.
“Breathe,” I heard. I opened my eyes and jumped.
“Good.”
Another survivor. Her name is Katherine.
“My story. Okay, sure. Everything went to hell.”
She doesn’t need any of my food. We compare notes on what works and what doesn’t.
“Guns, yeah. Wait for them to jam.”
Does she know what happened?
“Primodene, nobody knows, but the last news I heard was blaming the food. Like it even matters why now. You think?”
Primodine R&D isn’t far from here. Like 20 miles. She’s from near there, can point me. She’s heading north. There’s an encampment called the Farm in Canada broadcasting on 1031 AM. A radio—I’m realizing now I don't have one. This is good though—humans broadcasting. There’s hope. I weigh whether to investigate what’s happening now at Primodine or go north with her and she makes the decision for me.
“I make better time alone.”
February 6, 2012
Headed for Primodine. Making slow progress, maybe 6-7 miles a day, when it’s light. Using roads for short periods and then back off them into the woods. I’ll make some distance, then wait, hide, listen, rest, and move along some more. Spent some of last night in a tree after hearing something moving nearby. Could have been anything, probably (hopefully) an animal. Along the roads so far, no cars, no zombies, no people.
Heard woodpeckers, saw an eagle. Peaceful, except for the constant terror. I can see attacks coming when I close my eyes. It feels strange to be alone again after just a brief encounter.
So many people dead, and still more dying. I’ve been incredibly lucky so far.
I don’t feel lucky.
It’s strange to have nothing but the natural world around. It feels especially empty with nothing coming down the road. The wind is terrifying, I keep freezing in place whenever it picks up to make sure everything else stops moving when it stops. I think I’m nearing Bellingham.
February 8, 2012
Zombies. I must be getting close to Primodine. Saw a few techie looking zombies wandering the road in various states of decay. Encouragingly, a few of them in pretty bad condition. Where are they going? And why? Separated from the pack. They’re using the road, too, same as I am. Sense memory? My progress is slower now. I’m not silent in my own movements, I’m too tired, but I haven’t been noticed. They don’t seem to be able to smell me–no sign so far that they have any sense of smell.
I can smell them, though.
February 10, 2012
PRIMODINE. I’m in.
The R&D facility is sort of in the middle of nowhere, I assume to discourage the curious. The complex itself is surrounded by a high wall. The main entrance gate is open, but there are zombies wandering in and out, employees—or “former” employees. A car had driven up over an embankment at what must have been flooring-it speed, now sitting with the front end buried in the guard’s kiosk. Some remains scattered. Crows. There are a number of zombies wandering along the exterior wall, occasionally walking into the wall, gnawing at the air. I’ve been moving along a culvert and was able to find another less infested entrance on the north side of the perimeter.
had to kill two zombies that had noticed me as I moved along the inside of the wall. Using the axe. In a way the blunt end works better. My first swing with the blade split the head of a zombie in a lab coat down the middle but it wasn’t a killing blow it just kept coming. Dropped it with the blunt end and took off the head. Another one rounded the corner and I used the blade sideways to get the head off sooner. I hid after that to see what would happen next but the fight didn’t seem to draw any attention, and other zombies didn’t pay any notice to the “dead” zombies. I found a keycard still attached to the once-white lab jacket of a half-eaten doctor, but didn't actually
need it. The door locks aren't activated and the power seems to be fully down.
Inside, the smell is indescribable, literally stunning—zombies in an enclosed area and corpses of humans, some torn apart on or around their desks. I tied a t-shirt around my mouth and nose until I was able to find a filter mask. Still, my eyes sting. With the power out, it’s pitch-black in here at night, and the exterior-facing offices are really the only thing I’m willing to brave during the day. Don’t dare use the flashlight when moving around, but using it in moments when the coast is clear.
Zombies milling about, wandering the halls, walking in and out of offices. I'm hiding in an office with a desk against the one door, using the flashlight inside a supply closet. So this is home for tonight. There’s paper everywhere, all around the building, just kind of strewn about amid the other debris. Sitting here reading sheaths of printed e-mails, reports, files. All just office tedium. Meetings. Financial reports. Some discussion about bonding polymers related to the pliability of rubber garbage can lids—stuff not worth caring about, if anyone was alive to care.
duration remaining in the body after ingestion. No negative reactions in human trials or in widespread consumption thereafter. Toxicity reached on average of six months after first exposure or (unclear) upon accumulation of unknown levels of the compound. Cause of reaction unknown as yet. Testing reveals consistent results as indicated above across batches of the compound manufactured at domestic and international facilities. Some subjects showing no signs of reaction despite high exposure levels; theorizing genetic factor in some cases. We may need to expand our research base to achieve inquiry results on requested timetable due to staff illnesses. Main staff is on NTK basis. Discussion restricted. Please advise.