It's not over...

Hey guys

sorry for the absence of new posts.

I was really busy at one point and now having one of my down spells. I'll get back to writing when i can. In the meantime, Diary of a Cat's Slave should still be a weekly thing.

Be back soon!

Entry 14 ~ Escape! And More Questions

2015
19 August 2014
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Human beings are the only species capable of creating conspiracies.

~~~

I spent four days in captivity. Food was delivered twice a day by Face in the Window. All attempts at conversation were blithely ignored, as he backed me away from the door with a gun and set the tray down. There was a toilet attached the the room, much to my pleasure and surprise, though it came with barred windows.Sounds of gunfire erupted

Yesterday night, the routine was broken when Older Man stepped into the room after my meal. By then, the battery of my tablet had ran out, and I am now transcribing the interview from memory:

• Older Man: Hello. I am sorry for your nasty experience the last few days. It was necessary though, so I trust you haven't much to complain about everything.

• Me: I'm not sure what's going on, mister. All I know is I'm out looking for fellow survivors of the Problem. Is there a reason for my captivity?
• Older Man: Why yes, yes. I apologise for the rough handling. We had to ensure you were not infected by the zombies. All precautions must be taken to keep us safe.
• Me: Fair enough, I can understand that. How many of you are here? I'm amazed to have found you, honestly. I was worried I'm the only normal human left.
• Older Man: Some of us are of the same family. We bumped into fellow survivors and established our base of operations here. It was a bit of a shock to have found you. Tell me, how did you survive?
• Me: (Some caution must be exercised here, I haven't a clue who these people are). I am not much of a people person, and basically when the authorities said to stay home during the curfew, I stayed home. It's just me now.
• Older Man: I see. It is heartening to see another healthy human. I hope you will enjoy joining our group.
• Me: Uh, was that an invitation to join forces?
• Older Man: *chuckles* You could say that. Though you will have to stay in this room for the time being.
• Me: Wait, am I a prisoner?
• Older Man: Good heavens, no! Why would you think that? It is just for your safety for now. 

At this point, the interview ended, and Older Man left the room and closed it behind him. I don't really care what he said, but it sure sounded like I was being kept a prisoner. But, prisoner for what? It was not as though we were at war with each other, seeing as how the other side were basically zombies. Humans should be sticking together. I suppose they could be keeping me in quarantine in case I was infected, but if so he should have mentioned it. My spidey-senses were tingling.

My belongings were still with me, even my pistols, so that was heartening. I had previously tried knocking on the door, only to be ignored so I was not sure if there was anybody on the other side. I tried again this morning, no response.

I did not fancy remaining a forced guest in the mosque (I had peered out the window of the toilet by painstakingly straining my arm muscles to pull myself up to reconnoiter the surroundings). There was an uneasy feeling of paranoia that surrounded me.

My first meal arrived as per usual. Once again, I tried to engage Face in the Window in conversation and had no luck in eliciting any response other than a frown. Determined to leave the room, I left off eating my food as late as possible so I would have strength for what I had planned when my second meal was delivered.

Belongings packed, I consumed my rations an hour before the usual evening delivery. When Face in the Window knocked on the door and told me to back to the side, I backed to the side...of the door. The door opened and the muzzle of a gun, I was pretty sure it was a rifle, appeared and he stepped in. Before he could notice I was not in my usual place, I grabbed him and pulled him in. Then I placed the barrel of my six-shooter to his head and told him to keep quiet if he valued his life. I know, very Hollywood of me.

I made him put the food tray down and hand me his gun, warning him that any overt noises would result in a loud bang. Taking a chance, I backed us both out of the room, him in front of me, with me holding on to the collar of his shirt with one hand, pistol aimed at his head in the other. The corridor was empty. I made him open the main door and was glad to see that my car where I had left it. The engine was off but I was confident that it had died after I was taken away from the car with the keys in my pocket. It was one of those nifty security features of the Vellfire where the car died if the key was not in close proximity to the vehicle. Of course, it might have died from running out of fuel after I left it idling, but life was about taking chances. The grounds around the mosque was clean, belying the fact that the last time I saw this place, we were about overran by zombies.

Taking a leaf out of the movies I've watched, I clubbed him at the back of his head with the butt of my gun. Unlike the movies though, he did not collapse unconscious, just stumbled away from me. I apologised to him and kicked him in the nuts. I felt bad, really, but I was worried what these people had planned for me.

I ran for my car, got in and pressed the ignition button. It revved to life. Gasping in relief, I sped away from the site of my incarceration without looking back. I've had enough of my fellow humans, especially this group.

During my escape, I kept an eye on my rearview mirror, making sure nobody was following me home. I arrived at my Headquarters without incident, and hurried back home. My furry companion greeted me with an exuberant welcome and I settled down to recover from my capture and to analyse the incident.

Who were those people? That they had wanted me alive was no doubt, but what did they want with me? And why did they feel the need to keep me imprisoned instead of as an active pair of hands to help with their...whatever they were doing? Should I continue looking for fellow survivors?

End log.

Entry 13 ~ Be Careful What You Wish For

1940
14 August 2014
Location: Unknown

Reflections: Sometimes, you have to bear in mind that even though you are happy to meet someone, the feeling may not be mutual. Many unwanted guests thrive by ignoring this.

~~~

The last few days have been uneventful, it seems adequate that they were summarised in a few quick paragraphs before I proceeded to the meat of this log entry.

Following the interlude, I rested a couple of days to regain my strength. At the same time, I managed to attach a loudspeaker to the roof of my MPV, with a pre-recorded message in Malay for any humans to reveal themselves or to proceed to the safe house I prepared. I had to choose Malay as there is a limited message length to be recorded and it was the language that most people in Malaysia would understand. I hope. I've changed my mind about directing any potential survivors to either of my hideouts, so I set myself to secure the Sri Serdang Police Station as a safe house. Although I had previously broken the lock, I managed to keep the doors closed by curling a chain between the handles of the double front door. Simple enough for a human to undo, yet reasonably zombie-proof. Inside, I prepared a cache of supplies: food, water and weapons in the form of golf clubs. Naturally, I removed the corpses of the zombies and set them on fire.

The last two days, I have been driving around random areas closest to home with the loudspeaker playing my message. Thus far, nothing significant had occurred. I had decided to start slow and to increase my patrols from there.

Today, I ventured out of the Seri Kembangan area and made my way to Cheras. There were a lot of residential areas here and I was leery of going into uncharted territory. But it had to be done. Cruising around Taman Segar,  I spotted one of the armed escort vans usually accompanied bank security officers in reloading the ATM machines. Hmmm....

Coming to a stop, I turned the loudspeaker off and stepped out, hoping for stuff to scavenge. Gravel crunched beneath the Timberland boots I had appropriated from their outlet in The Mines. The sound was unnaturally loud in the silence of the dead neighbourhood. Before any scavenging activity, I ensured that no unpleasant surprises awaited me by making sure all the corpses were rotting and that no movement could be seen from the horizon. I reasoned that there was no sense in blaring my horn to startle any zombies, my looping message should have alerted anything alive or undead of my presense anyway.

The security van looked largely intact, though I could see dents on the side where something or somethings had obviously been pushed against the frame. The window on the driver's side was smashed and there was the dark brown of dried blood on the seats. No bodies though. I knocked my club against the side of the van to see if there was any answering sound from within, and opened the back door of the vehicle. The pungent odour of rot wafted to my nose, concentrated from being kept in the air tight compartment. I retched at the side noisily. Any creature that would have attacked me at that time would have found me easy prey.

I shone my torch into the interior of the van, and found a dead officer. Much to my delight, I also found a shotgun, much like the one I inconveniently broke against the face of a zombie a few weeks back. Holding my breath, I retrieved the gun, and grave robbed the dead body for ammunition. I found shotgun shells and some bullets for my revolvers. Weird, the former security officer did not have a revolver in his holster. A search of the van also failed to unearth any other weapons. Nevertheless, the shotgun was a capital find. With the 6 shells I already had at home plus the dozen or so that I had just liberated from the van, I had reason to feel happy.

I loaded the shotgun, and kept it in the passenger seat of the car. I had no experience firing a shot gun and there will be need to practice, in the safety of my headquarters anyway.

I continued my journey, and it was at Taman Len Sen when I decided to stop in a safe, open area for lunch when I heard a faint noise. The loudspeaker and closed windows had all but ensured I would not hear it otherwise. The sound was familiar, but very vague and too faint for me to recognise it. Hastily gobbling my food, I started my engine and promptly lost the noise. I would have to drive towards it and hope I can find it.

The loudspeaker was off this time, as I did not want to risk not hearing the sound, yet was too paranoid and unwilling to keep my windows rolled down. Minutes later, I caught the sound again and realised it was the Azan, the Muslim call to prayers. A quick glance at the clock showed that this was no time for prayers, which meant someone had to have set the Azan playing outside of the appointed time, or was singing it in person. Depending on the mosque, the call to prayer could be live or pre-recorded. Either way, this could mean that there were fellow humans out there.

Taman Len Sen was not a place I am familiar with, and it took me a while to locate the mosque. There was definitely somebody playing a pre-recorded call as it was going in loop, much like my own message was. I honked loudly and continuously at the mosque, not daring to alight from my vehicle. After a minute or two, the Azan was cut off. I waited in the Vellfire for the door to open, and after some time. a head poked out of a window on the upper floor of the mosque.

I wound my window down and asked if he was still human and healthy. In retrospect, it was stupid question. The youth, or boy really, responded that he was indeed human and healthy, and apparently not all too delighted to see me. That struck me as weird, though I was elated to see a human face again that was not trying to eat me.

We continued our conversation, from car window to mosque window. Here is a transcript of the conversation:

Him: What are you doing here?

Me: I'm looking for fellow survivors, of course. Are you the only one there?

Him:No, I'm not.

Me (to myself): Not very forthcoming, is he? You'd think that in current circumstances, he'd be happier to see a fellow human and not be so reticent.

Me: I'm really happy to hear that! Do you need help? I haven't met another human for a long time! Is it okay if I came in? (Under normal circumstances, this would have been a horrible faux pax, as I was not a Muslim and I understand it is frowned upon for non-believers to enter a Mosque for no reason. But these are hardly normal times, eh?)

Him: No, go away! You shouldn't be here!

At this point, the head disappeared and the window closed. Nonplussed, I sat there in consternation while pondering my next move. The call to prayer startled me out of my cogitations and I noticed that there were moving figures coming towards the mosque. A lot of them. This could be a Problem.

Deciding rashly, I grabbed most of my gear, sans shield and shotgun, and left the Vellfire. I ran to to mosque and started hammering on the door, demanding that they come out. My vehicle should be enough to save them and get away.

My cries were ignored, and one of the faster moving zombies had caught up to me. I backhanded the zombie (that hurt!) from me and broke its jaw with my club. Fuck, I didn't have my shield with me and there were at least another four of them between me and my car. It would be ironic that I would meet my end while trying to save my fellow human. I backed up until the door was right behind me, and took a ready stance. Before the zombies managed to get within striking distance, I felt the door open and shots rang out beside my ear. Rough hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into the mosque before shutting the door.

I saw the face from the window glaring at me. An older man said something to me but I was still deaf from the shots. I shook my head and tried to speak. There was a sharp pain and then darkness.

I had just awoken in a small room, which smelled musty but appeared clean. My belongings were still with me, with a piece of paper saying to not speak, make noise or attempt to escape, for my own safety. The back of my head hurt from the cheap blow to it. I have no clue what I had gotten myself into.

Heeding the warning on the paper, I settled down to wait and extracted the spare Surface from my backpack to draft this entry in case something were to happen to me. Both the tablets have copies of previous log entries so at least they would still have access to my information even if they decided to kill me.

End log.

Entry 12 ~ Interlude

2030
6 August 2014
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Doubts can paralyse you. Sometimes, it is necessary to simply pull a Nike and "Just Do It!"

~~~

I have spent most of the previous week sick at home from a bad batch of cans. Boy, was I glad there was no botulism involved. While down with the bug, I had the opportunity to plan my next moves. There had to be a careful balance between finding fellow survivors and to ensure that no harm came to myself by letting stragglers in. I had no illusions about the kindness of my fellow human beings when resources are scarce and the fact that my prowess in self-defence was not on the top of my list of abilities.

I had decided to extend my forays in the open to cover as much ground as possible. To spread the message that I am a healthy human to other potential survivors, I needed to obtain loudspeakers to attach to the top of my MPV, and also spray paint to leave messages at various areas. Both of these were easily obtainable from another trip to the Mines.

The problem here was destination. Where should I direct the survivors to meet up? HQ Alternate was going to be my little secret, so the only available option now was to clean up the apartment on the 20th floor that I raided and prepare it for visitors. This way, I can maintain a barrier between the refugees and myself.

I made the trip to The Mines today and obtained the equipment I required, as well as additional food supplies without incident.  To avoid exhaustion from my sickness, I limited myself to designing placards to place at the lift lobbies of my apartment complex to direct people to the unit on the 20th floor. My next step would be to clear the corpses and store some supplies in that apartment, hereby designated Refugee Home.

Once my strength is up, I shall begin my exploration to see if anybody else survived the Problem outbreak.

End log.

Entry 11 ~ New Developments

2225
27 July 2014
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Do not assume, for it makes a potential zombie out of you.

---

I went on a perimeter patrol this morning: securing the various entries and sweeping the courtyard. I was reasonably confident in my shooting now, though practice had left me with a mere 56 bullets; not much to take on the world.

Much to my shock, one of the elevators showed it was at 20. Remembering the close encounter I had when securing the stairways to that particular floor, this left me feeling nervous. I had barely survived my previous run in with two zombies.

It was doubtful that the zombies retained any higher brain function to use the elevator. Of course, here was a possibility of them accidentally pressing the button...

Well, there was no way I could ignore this. I brought the elevator down to me and it was...empty. Curiouser and curiouser. I then made my way to the eastern stairwell (the one nearest to the parking lot) and climbed up to the 20th floor.

Stopping to catch my breath, I listened as hard as I could for any signs of "life" on the other side. My previous experience placed the zombies on the western entrance so it was a calculated gamble on my part. I pried the shims out of the gaps of the door silently, readied my weapons, and turned the knob.

I was ready for an immediate onslaught of attackers. Mercifully, it was a peaceful and quiet entry. I peered cautiously down both ends of the corridor before shutting the door behind me. There was a curve in the corridor between the eastern lift lobby and middle to western, so I had to advance to reconnoiter the whole walkway. The sun was in my eyes, but I managed to glimpse two upright figures standing at the far end of the corridor.

My heart stopped for a beat before I realised they were unaware of my presence. I was leery of confronting two zombies simultaneously again, especially with a lack of an easy retreat. However, it was inevitable that I attempt to secure the complex and stop having to worry about these two clowns sneaking up on me at a later date.

Gritting my teeth in determination, I drew my pistol and walked towards the two figures. About 15 yard out, I shouted at them to get down if they were human. No luck, both started sprinting towards me. I took careful aim and took one of them down with 6 hits, all of them body shots though. Nevertheless, it went down. I holstered the pistol and braced for the remaining zombie.

I took the impact on my riot shield and shoved back at it, dropping the zombie to the floor. I stepped on its chest and swung my 9 iron against its head once, twice and thrice until it stopped struggling. Satisfied it was dead, I saw the one I shot limping slowly towards me, teeth bared in a morbid parody of a smile. I took its jaw out with a well-placed swing of my club. This was deliberate on my part, as the zombie was slowed enough by its wounds for me to take my time. I watched it trash on the ground, blood leaking from the de-jawed face. It took a good 5 minutes for it to die, presumably from blood loss.

The danger over, I reloaded my pistol calmly. I had both gun belts on, with the other pistol positioned slightly behind the one I drew. There was no point in me keeping it on the right, as after repeated practice found me abysmally unsuited to a right-hand draw. I was down to 50 shots now. Gotta be careful with how I spend them.

The corridor secured, I walked to the elevator which I had found to be on 20 earlier on (it was the middle lobby). If the zombies were at the end of the corridor, then it stands to reason somebody, or something, operated the elevator. I checked the apartment units near the lobby. All but one were padlocked and shut. The exception had the grill wide open but the inner wooden door shut.

I walked into the doorway and knocked loudly and shouted through the door. No response. I tried the knob but it was locked. Not wanting any surprises, I closed the grill behind me and went to work with my crowbar. On my third heave, the wooden frame gave way and the door slipped open.

The apartment looked very homely. A well-worn sofa dominated the living room, facing a smallish tv set. I stepped inside, and saw a gruesome sight. Two bodies were in the bathroom: a woman and child. They were fresh, not yet decomposed. The floor of the bathroom was stained in the dark brown of dried blood. Cautiously, I handled the bodies and found bite marks on the arms of the child. His neck was slit open, explaining the blood. The woman, his mother, I assumed, hung from the wall in a home made noose of cloth sheets.

Sickened, I surmised that the child must have been bitten by a zombie somehow and rather than risking him turning, the mother killed him and committed suicide. They must have been the ones who used the elevator. Guilt hammered at me as I wondered if I was the cause of their death by blocking off the stairwells and forcing them to use the lift. Healthy human life was so near me, yet I only found them when it was too late.

I staggered from the bathroom and found myself on the floor outside, sobbing quietly. In remorse? In self-pity? I do not know.

Minutes later, I pulled myself together. What was done was done. I had to be practical. Since I was already here, I decided to scavenge the place for something useful. There was a shopping bag filled with food stuff in the kitchen, obviously they had been on a food run when the attack occurred; I piled the food into my backpack. I felt guilty, but there was no sense in putting things to waste.

I checked the store room and found nothing much of use. The middle room looked slept-in. This was obviously where they spend their nights. Why not in the master bedroom? I opened the door of the master bedroom and let out an embarrassing yelp of surprise as I saw the body of a dead man lying near the door. I suppose this was why they had not slept in the master bedroom, and who could blame them?

There was not much to look at in the master bedroom, but I did find a set of car keys. These went into my pocket, they will come in handy. Something nagged at the back of my mind, there was something wrong with this picture, but I could not quite put my finger on it. Lost in thought, I neglected to watch my step and tripped on the corpse at the doorway. Cursing angrily, I thought I saw something, but dismissed it from my mind. I must've disturbed it when I tripped.

I found my feet and returned to investigate the living room. The sound of feet scuffing against the floor made me whirl around. I stared in shock as the "dead" man slowly got to his feet, shaking himself as if to clear his head.

What the hell?

The man caught sight of me and grinned at me. Except the grin was accompanied with a growl. Shit!

He charged me, closing the distance between us quickly. I had stupidly left the golf club near the grisly bathroom when I thought the place was safe. Thankfully I still had my shield and I used that to catch the creature's charge and flipped him over me into the tv. I sprinted towards my golf club but the zombie somehow recovered and had its hands curled around my ankle. I went down.

Bared teeth sought my foot and I kicked at it frantically with my other foot. My crowbar had slung forward and I somehow managed to untangle it from the shoulder strap. A sharp swing caught the zombie at the side of its skull and the tip dug into its ear. I pulled with all my strength and the zombie's face just...parted. It continued its grasping at my leg for just a few seconds before going limp.

My breath came in gasps as I sought to recover from the shock and adrenaline rush. It all came back to me now, my uneasy feeling. I had assumed the man was dead and the family was avoiding his dead body. Except, the body was not at all decomposed. Somehow, the zombie had went into a dormant state while being locked in the room.

In fact, he seemed to have been hibernating...

Things just got weirder and weirder.

I eyed my crow bar in disgust. I took my leather gloves off and used the plastic ones to wash the crowbar thoroughly at the late lady's sink. I applied detergent generously and decided I will soak it in boiling water when I returned to my HQ.  Probably a good idea to grab a spare too on my next shopping trip.

Deciding I was done with the place, I let myself out and walked through the whole corridor of the 20th floor, all the other apartment units were securely locked. I re-jammed the door that I entered from and got back to my floor.

I disinfected myself and my equipment thoroughly and worked on an idea that this "home visit" had given me: I will honour the woman and child's memory by living well and to start a search for other humans who might have survived the Problem intact and healthy.

End log.

Entry 10 ~ Armaments

24 July 2014
2000
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: The only way to overcome panic is by getting used to being in life or death situations. Or...just death.

---

The internet services died the day before yesterday. I guess my log entries will have to be offline from now on. Next will be the power, my obsession. I would probably have enough water to last me til I die, considering that a full water tank is supposed to be able to serve 20 floors' worth of apartment units for at least a day's usage.

The previous few days were spent recuperating from my outing and in thought. I had my feline companion for company and leisure, and packed a getaway bag with emergency rations that could last me for at least a day. The days are running together now, and I'm only staying in sync thanks to the calender of my tablet/computer.

In this entry, I will endeavour to compress my findings and my plans that led to today's foray into the open.

• Unlike Hollywood films, the zombies appear to feel pain and can be incapacitated by it. I hypothesise that this is due to the rabies vaccine virus that integrate into the brain of its victims. This led them to be more animalistic and aggressive, lacking higher brain functions like logic and thought. Essentially, we would be dealing with wild beasts in the form of humans.
• The zombies appear to also be cannibals. I have seen them feast upon one of their fallen kin. This does make sense, as they would have ran out of food when they ran out of healthy humans. Funny how this was never touched on in Hollywood films.
• I have ammunition, but not the means of firing them. This needs to be remedied
• I have zombies loose on at least one of the floors in my complex. It remains to be seen if they are illogical enough to jump off the corridors when they start to starve.

I decided that increased care must be exercised on my outings now, in case any suicidal zombies managed to survive the jump. Guns will also be a new priority. If I could get enough of those and ammunition, I could start clearing the complex. After all, it was not really practical to take on an unknown amount of Problems with just a golf club, no matter the size of the golf ball.

An outline of a plan of attack was formed. Unlike America, Malaysia is (was) not a country that had rampant  gun use. As far as I remember, only bank and jewellery store security guards as well as police officers had been seen carrying guns. And the army, of course. As the only army barracks I know was located way down in Johor, I would have to content myself with raiding banks and police stations for armaments.

I dressed myself up in my usual protective equipment and ensured I had the crowbar and cutter with me for breaking and entering. Before leaving, I once again checked all entry points to 14 before descending to the parking lot and driving off in my nifty new ride.

Taking on a familiar place was the best course of action, so naturally I drove back to The Mines again. It was getting to be an almost casual "grocery" run, or so it feels. In fact, I did stop by Giant to grab some supplies and depositing those back in the car. The primary objective, though, was the bank. No luck. The shutters were drawn, and after I broke in, the place was deserted. I guess they didn't see fit to leave a guard here. Jewellery stores were similarly abandoned.

It was not something unexpected, but I had to try. Next, I made my way to the police station in Seri Kembangan. The place was overgrown. Even when things were less Problematic, this particular branch had a haunted feel about it. I parked at a surreptitious distance away and started playing music with the horn, seeking any reactions. None came.

Exiting the vehicle, I crept towards the station, cursing myself for not wearing jeans as the grass cut into my exposed calves. I had thought my cargo shorts with the extra pockets would have been the better choice. Probably a good idea to have alternative clothing stored in the MPV for future trips. The police station itself was small, merely 2 storeys high, but split into multiple blocks, including the staff quarters. I made my way into the main office; the doors were not locked. The ceiling fan was still squeaking away, an incongruous break in the silence.

There were nobody and no bodies to be found. I ransacked the desks and failed to find any guns. Next, I climbed up the stairs and nearly shat my pants when some rodents ran over my feet. For safety, I took off my helmet and used the mirrors to look around the corner of the stair way before popping in: it was one of those stairways with a wall on one side for the railing, preventing me from looking across the room. Mercifully, it seemed empty.

I put my helmet back on and crept on. It was still abandoned, workstations were left in the state of whatever it was the police were working on was left halfway when they left their posts. There was an empty gun rack hugging the wall. Hmmm.

My courage tried to quail at the thought of exploring further, but I was determined to find some guns, so I pushed on. I went to the next building: it appeared to be some sort of storage or maintenance area. Even in the almost noon sun, it was dark. I would have to find the light switch. Note to self: bring torches in the future.

Police bikes were arranged none too neatly in the building. Spare uniforms and other items were strewn around. I found one item of use here: a riot shield. Pleased at my find, I strapped it onto my right arm and left the building. The last one left to explore would be the barracks or quarters.

I found the missing police officers, or what was left of them. Dead bodies laid strewn over the corridor of the quarters. Not all the bodies were in uniform, and those which were in uniform numbered less than half a dozen. I surmised that some escaped or were infected and had left the site already. Who knows what really happened?

I made like a grave robber and started going through the dead policemen's bodies. I found only 2 service revolvers from 5 bodies, which I pocketed. Strange, but perhaps the survivors made off with the guns. Their gun belts had elastic bands with carefully spaced intervals to store spare bullets. I managed to scavenge a grand total of 10 bullets from the bodies. Guess ammunition will be short. 

Ridding the cleanest of the bodies of his gun belt, bless his soul, I hurriedly returned to my vehicle. I supposed I should consider myself lucky that most Malaysian police use revolvers. They are relatively brainless to use, just press the button to "open" the gun, and load the chambers. I checked both guns, one was empty and the other had only a shot left. It would seem that the bullet holders on the gunbelt turned out to be unnecessary. I loaded both up. This gives me 11 shots to play with.

One of the things I love about having a big-assed MPV is that I can afford to idle and adjust my clothing in the safety of my car instead of out in the open. I managed to to get the gun belt on and stuck the half-loaded pistol into the holster. Being left-handed it took me a bit of finesse to figure out how to adjust the holster for a left-hand draw. I practiced drawing the pistol in the confines of the car and it took me a while to master just pointing the gun.

With the surroundings still clear, I stepped out of the Vellfire and practiced a draw and aimed at a tree in the Weaver stance (gotta love Tom Clancy AND Hollywood). I cocked the pistol and depressed the trigger. To say that I was unprepared was an understatement. My arms flew up and I back a half-step before fighting against a stumble. Whoa! It was also louder than expected. I would not like to fire a gun in enclosed places if I could help it.

Well, at least I hit the tree. I grinned pridefully to myself; never mind the fact it was nigh impossible to miss a 2 ft-wide tree trunk from a distance of a few meters.

I uncocked the gun, got back in the car and exchanged the pistol for the fully loaded one into my holster. The one I just fired was a little warm around the barrel so I waited before stuffing it into my pocket.

I had a gun! I was giddy with happiness, like a kid with a new toy. Which, in a way, I was. What is needed now is more ammunition, and a shotgun. 

My adventure at the police station had taken a few hours off the day. Creeping around was not as easy or as fast as it sounds. My next stop was the police station at Sri Serdang, near my previous stop. This was a small station, and I had not much hopes for the place.

The Sri Serdang police station was a single "house" in an open area. I parked right in front of the entrance and blared my horn and kept my attention via the windows for any movement from within. Seeing nothing, I got out and tried to get in. The doors were locked, a quick pry with the crowbar fixed that and I carefully stepped in. It was brightly lit, with the lights and AC still on, but I could not see much through the windows earlier so I had to be careful still.

It was remarkably organised in here. It was easy to see that the staff had plenty of time to lock up and leave, as opposed to the previous station. However, this probably also meant they stored any armaments away safely. Nevertheless, I went through everything meticulously.

I was close to giving up when I stumbled across a sturdy looking locker. Excitement mounting, I tried to get it open with my crow bar and succeeded in only making a dent. Obviously, the locker was reinforced. I was standing there, leaning against the wall and panting, when I heard the door swing open. I tip-toed towards the corridor and hung one of my side mirrors out the corner. Two zombies had entered the station, both facing away from me.

Fuck.

I must have alerted them to my presence when I honked at the station. I had failed to pay attention to the surrounding vicinity and only focused on the police station. Damn. The two zombies walked in a weird crouched posture, sniffing the air in a manner reminiscent of monkeys.

Swallowing nervously, I hefted my newly-acquired riot shield on my right arm and held my golf club in my right hand. I drew the pistol, cocked it and stepped out from the corner, aimed and fired at the nearer zombie. The shots were deafening, and after the first shot I was pretty sure I was not aiming at anything that mattered.

The first zombie went down, I emptied my 6-shooter and the second zombie was on me before I snapped out of my shooting-haze. Luckily I had held my riot shield at the ready and the creature just rammed right into it, slamming my back against the wall. I dropped the pistol and switched the club to my left hand. Medieval features were useful, as I shield bashed the zombie away from me and proceeded to attack it with the golf club.

In my panic, most of my strikes were ineffective. The second zombie had recovered and only the narrow confines of the corridor saved me. I got backed towards the other end of the L-shaped corridor and frantically let myself in through a door and slammed it shut. 

The flimsy wooden door shuddered from the impact of the zombies running into it. There was a rectangular plastic screen above the knob and I could see their demented faces screaming at me as they rained  blows upon the door. From the way it was rattling, I had minutes at most.

I retrieved the remaining pistol from my pocket and carefully took aim via the view-screen, and shot one of them through the mouth. It dropped out of sight and I got the next one through the eye with careful aiming. That too, dropped out of sight.

Breathing hard, I stood in the room for a long time, waiting for the zombies to resume their assault. When none came, I finally realised that I had got them. The room I was in was a pantry of some sort. I helped myself to some water and finally braved the door. Easing it open, I saw both zombies lying bonelessly on the floor. One had a shot in the shoulder. That must have been from my first shot. The pain had only temporarily taken it out of the fight.

I staggered over their bodies and tried to pry open the cabinet again. My brain was obviously overloaded and it did not even cross my mind that I should check the outside for more zombies. I managed to get the locker open with some more prying with the crowbar and some frustrated swings of the golf club. A gap big enough for me to insert my hand to jiggle the mechanisms within allowed me access to the locker proper.

I nearly wept with joy at my find inside. There was not much left, evidently the officers had emptied the storage locker of guns. However, they had left a spare gun belt and a lot of bullets at the bottom of the locker. It seems one of the boxes had burst open and they could not be bothered to carry the loose bullets. The box was clearly unusable so I filled the pockets of my backpack with the bullets. The spare belt went in as well. There must had been at least a hundred. I guess Malaysian police must be sloppy cos the box was hardly enough to keep all the loose bullets I had collected. I also picked up the pistol I had dropped earlier and pocketed it, the other one being in the holster instead.

I left the police station with my spoils and only then did it hit me I had not surveyed the perimeter. Fortunately for me, those two were the only zombies around the area.

Clambering into my ride, I got home safely, richer in both material and experience. I had enough ammunition to justify shooting some as practice, and I had a huge shield to complement my club. I just needed to refine my fighting skills.

More projects to work on as I while the time away waiting for the end.

End log.

Entry 9 ~ Of False Joys and Inspirations

20 July 2014
1930
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: When things are going your way, do not over rejoice or shit happens. If they are going against you, do not think that things can't get any worse, or they inevitably will. This is life's way of saying: Up yours, human!

---

Dawn found me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I exited HQ Alternate with a lighter heart, gladdened to have found an alternative abode. The funeral pyre from yesterday left a black patch in the small garden, with nothing but ashes to remind me of the unpleasantness of it all.

I climbed the gate to have a good lookout of the neighbourhood. The coast was clear, so I opened the auto-gate and backed the sedan away from its blockade position. Locking the place up, I loaded the Vellfire up with my belongings and exited the porch, clicking the auto-gate button on my way to shut it. The spare gasoline containers and my backpack were transferred into the back from my old drive. The MPV drove like a dream, though it took a little bit of acclimation to driving an automatic transmission.

On my way out of the neighbourhood, I drove past a Giant hypermarket and my stomach growled to remind me it was empty. I stopped near the entrance of the hypermarket and debated with myself whether to venture out. It made sense to reconnoiter the place if I was making this my HQ Alternate anyway. Might as well start now. I withdrew a candy bar from the backpack and finished consuming it in the Vellfire before grabbing my helmet and golf club.

This was the first time I have wandered into a new place in awhile (not counting HQ Alternate), so my senses were on full alert. I walked into the building warily. The place was a total wreck. It was obvious that being located in the middle of a housing neighbourhood had made it the target of looting, unlike The Mines. I saw little in terms of humanity, rotting or Problematic. Even my rubber soles raised echoes as I went deeper into the mall.

Giant hypermarkets tend to have shops like a regular mall, but with a giant (no pun intended) hypermarket outlet to anchor the mall. Hypermarkets are like mini-marts multiplied a hundred-fold, selling anything from groceries to cheap clothes. I walked into the hypermarket outlet proper and was dismayed to find most of the aisles already emptied. Looks like the mob were very thorough. No signs of zombies though.

I left the outlet and started back towards the entrance/exit. Pausing halfway as something grabbed my eyes from the second floor, I climbed up the escalator and walked into a miniature warzone. A bank outlet with the glass shattered was littered with corpses of people (or zombies). The state of decomposition was too severe for me to have any inclination to ascertain the cause of death. I stepped past the bodies gingerly and saw a headless body clad in the uniform of a security guard, shotgun held in its hands facing upwards. Evidently the late guard had thought his position untenable and shot himself at the very end. I guess I knew then the cause of death of the bodies outside.

Gleefully, I dropped my club and pried the shotgun away from the guard, thanking him under my breath. I had never handled a gun before, but a shotgun looked easy enough to use. I pumped the shotgun the way I saw in the movies, and a shell popped out. Sighting down the barrel, I mimed making a shot and liked the feel of the gun in my hands. I would need to practice shooting somewhere safe, of course, but having a gun gave me better options at self-defence, or even on offence. My mood felt celebratory.

A flicker of movement in my helmet mirror caught my eye and I barely turned in time to have something grab me by the arm. Crazed eyes bore down on me and everything moved in slow motion as I watched a zombie open its maw and clamp down on me. Teeth bit in and found paper as my forearm magazine bracer did its job. I reacted instinctively, twisting away and swung my weapon into its stomach. The zombie bucked and its hold loosened enough for me to free my arm and I frantically beat at its head with the shotgun. Realising belatedly that it lacked the mass necessary to deal heavy damage, I dropped the shotgun and grabbed my club while the zombie was reeling from my blows.

It snarled at me, I screamed at it, and caved its skull in with my nine iron. Take that, filthy rabid undead being! Except I have found that the Problematic humans were not really undead, were they? My eyes darted everywhere, I was near panic. Where the hell had that creature come from?

I took deep breaths and calmed myself down. Things looked safe, for now. But then again, it felt safe earlier too. Whatever.

I regarded the shotgun on the floor. Much to my chagrin, the barrel was bent and warped out of shape from my abuse of it. So much for my visions of shooting zombies.  Goddamn it! Trying to salvage what I could from a shitty situation, I dug around the guard's dead body and came away with a pouch containing spare shells. I counted 6, not much, but better than none. I looked around for the second guard (banks usually had at least two) and made no headway before it hit me that my assailant wore the same uniform as the headless guard. Sighing, I saw no signs of where the erstwhile guard's shotgun was, but managed to salvage another pouch of ammunition. I'll find a gun somewhere, I hope, but ammunition would be hard to come by, so I might as well start my collection now. At least I had some idea of where to scavenge for guns after this. That's food for thought.

The journey back to the car was nerve-wracking, this was hostile territory after all. I grabbed some magazines from a newspaper stall on my way out. I found a wall tap outside the mall and ran water on the head of my golf club thoroughly. The mangled magazine on my arm free was cut free with a pocket knife, and discarded it on the sidewalk and the knife thoroughly rinsed too. I was not risking contaminating my belongings with the virus. 

Settling myself into the seat of my new vehicle, I tried to relax before driving. The cushions were comfortable enough to help me bleed the stress off. I started the engines and left the hypermarket. The drive back was a blur, my mind was still wandering and coping with the adrenaline bleed-off.

When I arrived at my apartment complex, I realised that I had left my access card in my old car. Grumbling to myself, I stopped the vehicle at the guardhouse and strapped my new magazine over my bare forearm. I noticed idly that it was a food magazine. I hoped that would not be an omen in the future for the zombies. Alighting, I walked into the guardhouse and found the button to open the boom gate. On the bright side, at least I got to raise the boom gate while there was still power.

I parked my new car in my usual lot, taking some extra time to master manoeuvring a larger vehicle. Gathering my belongings, I returned to my Headquarters without further incident and treated myself to a big meal and a rest before completing my shimming exercise. It was only midday and I wanted to give myself a peace of mind after the ambush at the bank.

Rested and fed, I made my way to the far stairwell and started shimming the doors downwards. I arrived at Ground without any significant incident, and took the elevator back to 14.

15 went by without problems, then 16, 17, 18 and 19. I panted my way to 20 and was about to congratulate myself for mission accomplished when the sound of feet shuffling on the other side of the door froze me into inaction.

The door was slightly open, and I was still 4 steps away from the landing, and another 8 feet or so to the door. I made a pretty good impression of a deer caught in headlights and stopped breathing. The shuffling sound was rhytmic and seemed directionless. I reached into my sling bag and very slowly withdrew two shims. I held one between my lips, the other in my right hand. Deciding speed made a better defence than the club, I very gently set it down on a step, with the head dangling off the side to avoid the heavy clink.

I braced myself, and cleared the steps in one explosive leap, took the two strides necessary to reach the door and rammed it shut with my left shoulder. I jammed the shim in the middle of the two hinges with my right hand and took the one from my lips and jammed that one below the door. The sound of forceful impacts greeted me from the other side. The doors were fire escapes, I was reasonably sure they could withstand the pounding, for a while anyway. I back down and retrieved my club, and drove shims into the door liberally. By the time I was done, it looked like the door was a porcupine, at least where the shims fit anyway. I had at least 8 shims on each side, 6 below the door and another 6 above it. Throughout this, the sound of pounding fists (or something else) came from the other side.

I had no idea how many zombies were behind that door, so I backed away to the landing between 20 and 19 and waited. It took more than an hour, but the pounding gradually stopped and faded away. Finally. Exhaling in relief that the door held, I climbed back to 20 quietly and checked the door. Things looked secure, at least for now, and my theory that they lacked the presence of mind to turn door knobs seem to be holding true.

Light-headed, I made my way down the stairs back to 14 and thanked providence I had not taken the lazy path and went directly up to 20 by elevator. I closed the door at 14, and dusted it with half a bottle of baby powder. Shaking my head at my silly action, I checked all 3 elevator lobbies and satisfied myself that all was well before returning home.

I took a long hot shower in the safety of my apartment and will partake liberally of liquid courage after writing this.

End log.

Entry 8 ~ Visit to the Past

OOC - This post may be a little self-indulgently dark. I apologise in advance.

19 July 2014
2130
Location: HQ Alternate, Cheras, Selangor, Malaysia

Reflections:
Everybody has problems, some roll over and die, others tackle them head on. I choose the latter path, with a golf club!

---

I spent the 18th securing the middle stairway and being lazy. After tackling 20 floors twice in two days, I felt I was due some down time. The shimming activity was relatively uneventful, but tension-filled as usual as my imagination continue to run away. A quick inventory showed I had insufficient shims to complete the project for the final stairway, so today would appear to be yet another shopping day.

Strapping myself into my usual equipment, I made my way to The Mines early in the day. I startled some crows from the corpse as I pulled into my usual spot, and went in. Finding the shims again was easy. My backpack filled, it was time to leave and get the last of the stairways blocked off and enjoy a less stressful existence back home.

I got into my car without further incident this time, thankfully and pulled out. Deciding to take a drive around to sight-see what's became of my city, since there was some time to burn, I drove down the MRR2 highway and made a turn off into Ambassador Row where all the embassies were located in KL. The streets were empty, of course. It just felt weird to me, as most of my life was spent being stuck in traffic right here. It felt like a ghost town now, which of course, it was.

My wanderlust sated, I started on my way back. Two things happened at once: one of my tyres blew, sending me careening on the empty road; and something bounced off the front of my car and smashed into the windscreen. Spiderweb-like cracks formed immediately, and I pulled the car to a stop with my heart beating like a freight train.

Misguided instincts took over and I got out of my car to assess the damage. The left rear tyre was flat, and somebody in a pink shirt and bermudas was groaning on the ground behind my car. I snapped back to reality and grabbed my weapon from the car in a hurry. I had not had time to put my helmet on so I had to look around to view the perimeter. Approaching the groaning figure warily, I called out and asked if he was okay. No reply, just more pain-filled grunts. I was within spitting distance when I prodded the man with my club.An animalistic snarl greeted me from the downed, obviously Problematic human.

It feels pain!

This was interesting though, it was in enough pain to prevent it from coming after me. I nudged it again and received an eerily human-sounding scream from it. Nervously, I glanced around. I picked out movement coming from the west. Deciding there and then that discretion was the better part of valor, I ran back into my car and stepped on the accelerator, I made my way bumpily on my flat tyre away from the scene. Hundreds of meters away, I stopped as I had trouble believing what I saw in my rear view mirror.

What appeared to be a pack of zombies descended on the scene of my mishap, and instead of coming after me, fell unto the fallen one with gusto. Sickened from what I saw, I drove off, slowly and carefully. Visibility was very poor with my cracked windscreen, and driving on the flat could not benefit my car any. There was no way in hell I was stopping and changing the flat. I considered my options and decided to make a try for another place with which I was familiar with and nearer to my current location instead of driving home. If I was lucky, I could get a replacement vehicle without needing to smash any windows.

Half an hour later, I pulled up where I once told myself I would never return again. The neighbourhood was quiet and I saw no suspicious activities. The house had 3 cars in residence: a Toyota Vellfire MPV in the porch, a Proton sedan outside the gates and a Korean SUV on the curb. This was surprising. I had expected the Vellfire to be gone as the family made their escape. The fact that all vehicles were home told me the house might not be unoccupied. Drawing a deep breath, I rang the door bell. Five times. No frantic barks greeted the doorbell. I guess nobody's home after all?

I grabbed my club and climbed over the wall beside the gate, not the first time I had done so. I knew where the spare keys were stored in the event the son forgot his keys again. Letting myself in on well-oiled hinges, I entered what had been my second home for nearly 3 years, 2 years ago. I was wrong, there was something home. The carcass of a dead pomeranian laid in a playpen in the living room, lying in its own waste. I was saddened, he was the only thing I missed from this place, even if the little chump was overly fond of biting.

I crept around the living room, reliving my memories. I finally made my way to the staircase and found the various car keys in a container, where they were always kept. Smiling to myself grimly, I took the keys and pocketed them. I had to move the sedan out of the way before I could take the MPV out. There was no doubt in my mind which vehicle I was taking with me. Why drive a dodgy Proton when you can have an improved Alphard?

Caught up in my nostalgia, I went into the kitchen and marveled at how neat everything was. Obviously they had not left in a hurry. Noise came to my ears from the second floor. Perhaps they had not left, after all. I hefted one of the sturdy wooden dining chairs with me and walked to the stairacse. A scene reminiscent of The Ring greeted me: an unkempt female figure with hair thrown forward to cover the face, in an unsteady gait on the platform above the first flight of stairs.  I gasped in bewilderment and the figure ran forward...and promptly tumbled down the stairs. That was the noise I had heard earlier.

I reacted quickly, slamming the chair onto the torso of that thing and holding it down with both hands. The hair parted, and the face of the woman I had once loved, the woman who made my life a living hell for nearly 3 years, snarled back at me. She, it, shrieked at me furiously and tried to buck the chair off.

The sight of her face had utterly shocked me. I did not know what I had expected to find when I chose to come here, but I was definitely not prepared at all for this. I let her up, and tried to talk to her, breaking Zaph's rule #8: If you meet someone you once knew, it's no longer them. They're zombies now, kill them, or be killed.

The Problematic ex (yes, I'm rather proud of myself for this one) responded by snarling at me and rushing at me. I backhanded (backchaired?) her with one of the legs of the chairs, and slammed the whole chair down on her again. Then I leaped over her and grabbed the club I had left in the living room and turned to face my nightmare ex-girlfriend. She had thrown the chair off and made a noise that sounded like a whine. 

My realisation that feeling pain was not limited to the zombie on the streets gave me a few extra seconds to act while she whined in self-pity. This was not somebody I know anymore, she's a zombie. I swung at her head with all my strength and heard her neck snap. The body flopped to the ground, lifeless.

I dropped with it, gasping. Two encounters in a day! It was enough to drain me. But her appearance made me comprehend that this house was not secured, and another thought hit me: if I could secure it, I would have an alternate escape point!

Climbing the stairs quietly, I found myself on the second floor. I need not have worried, both her parents laid in different places in the master bedroom, both horribly decomposed and obviously feasted upon. Swallowing bile, I scanned her bedroom and her brother's. Empty. Made sense, he had gone to Singapore for his career. I wrapped both bodies in the bed covers and pushed them down the stairs. If I was taking over the place, I did not want their bodies being a constant reminder. I checked the ex's body, no breathing and no blood.

I dragged all 3 of them and dog into the garden next to the SUV, and set the sheets alight. Goodbye. I felt oddly relieved, as if a heavy burden had lifted from my shoulders. Deciding I did not need to pursue THAT particular train of thoughts, I checked my watch and realised that dragging the bodies around was time-consuming. It was already 6pm. Deciding not to risk dusk befalling me if any other delays occurred, I made "camp" at HQ Alternate for the first time.

I cleaned up the place with a mop and cleaned myself up in the shower. Feeling hunger gnawing at me, I raided the fridge and freezer. Much to my amazement, there was frozen food that I thawed and enjoyed; my first "home-cooked" food by someone who knew what she was doing, in over 2 months. I savored the meal slowly, knowing it was in all likelihood to be my last. 

Emotions that were buried deep overwhelmed me and I let myself be consumed by it for the night.

End log.

Entry 7 ~ Solving Some Problems

17 July 2014
2000
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Sometimes, the fear is mightier than reality. Other times, reality is just as frightening. Imagination can cripple you as much as real nightmares could.

---

It rained all day yesterday. All my plans for moving stuff from the store to block off one of the stairwell entrances were invalidated by the pouring rain. I relied on my sense of hearing as one of my key defences, and the downpour ensure I was deprived of that. I reasoned it was better to be safe than sorry.

During the downtime, I reread some of Crazy Zaph's emails to me. In one of them, he had mentioned using something called shims to jam the door. It might have been a Canadian term but I was totally unfamiliar with it. However, the concept is sound, use something to keep the door from opening. It was the perfect solution to my problem of unsecured doors. I just had to grab some door jams, enough to jam 3 x 20 (doors per floor x number of floors) doors. Well, less one door anyway, as my designated exit point.

Today dawned sunny. Hopefully no impromptu tropical storms appear again while I was gallivanting outside. My personal protection equipment went on, and I brought along both my backpack-wheelchair combo and sling bag. It was time to revisit The Mines, the site of my first kill. Trying not to shudder at THAT particular memory, I hung the binoculars over my neck and slung the crowbar and cutter over individual shoulders.

Once again, I secured all points of entry before dinging at Ground. Made my way to the car and was scared out of my wits when a rat ran across the grass beside me. Goddamned rodent! There was little I could do about the grass though. I neither had a grasscutter nor was I at all inclined to be "gardening" at a time like this.

Avoiding all other incidences, I arrived at Mines. The corpse of the zombie I had slain laid where I had left it. At least it was properly dead. I ignored it and entered the shopping mall and made my way to Ace Hardware on Level 2. It still stank of rot, and it was still eerily silent.

The hardware store was laid out tidily, yet I could not seem to find what I had wanted. The door jams available here were all of the rubber variety, and I knew first hand these would not hold against a strong gust of wind, let alone purposeful strength. Highly unsatisfied, I searched through every aisle that I thought was relevant and was still unable to find anything suitable. Guess this plan was not going to come to fruition. Not wanting to waste the trip though, I made my way to the portable generator section to pick up a secondary power source.

Let me tell you something, the motherfuckers are HUGE! There was no way I could drag any of those monsters to the car, not from the second floor and no power in the mall. I felt a sense of bitter irony, I needed power in order to move my secondary power source.

Giving in to frustration, I sat down on a bench decorating the gardening section and tried not to yell. Staring straight back at me on a shelf were packets of wood in plastic bags with the word SHIMS in large font. Well, what do you know, they hid these little babies in the flooring section. Apparently they looked exactly like the rubber door jams I had rejected earlier, except in solid wood. What use they were in gardening totally escaped me. Cheering up, I started gathering my new treasures and chucking them into my backpack. I also found plastic containers that could hold up to 40L. Perfect for my emergency petrol stash. Siphons were arranged conveniently around the containers. I guess this trip was not a complete waste after all.

Remembering to keep a close watch on my surroundings, I tied one of the containers on the loop thing that backpacks have between the shoulder straps. Never did figure out what those actually did, but sure came in handy this time. The siphons fitted easily inside the bag itself. Then I hoisted the backpack on my shoulders and picked up another container and proceeded to my car. It could double as a shield if anything surprises me.

I made quick time back to my car, and was careful to use my binoculars for long-range scanning. My goodies got unloaded into the car quickly and before leaving, I gave in to my morbid curiosity to check on the zombie I birdied to death. What I saw chilled me.

The corpse had decomposed quickly, natural after days in the hot tropical weather. What was unnatural were the bite marks surrounding the neck and stomach area. Something had been feeding. My eyes shot up again to scan the surroundings. Nothing. It might have been dogs. We do have packs of strays running around, after all. Dogs would have eaten more and dragged the carcass with them though. Fuck.

Well, this was bound to happen, there could not have been just one zombie in the whole of Kuala Lumpur. It did not compute mathematically. I guess reality just sank in. Not wishing to tempt fate, I hurriedly returned home. I was calmer than I had expected. Guess after the first kill, anticipation of the next one came easier.

Driving back to my previously secured petrol kiosk, I filled my two spare tanks and left them in the trunk. Filled my car up again for good measure too. Grabbed an ice cream from the store as well. I deserved a treat while the station's power was still up. Or any power. I was starting to be obsessed with losing power, though I still insisted on taking the elevator every time I leave. I knew that I was subconsciously avoiding the stairs, fearing what I would find.

I left the spare petrol and siphons in the trunk, and made my way back home after parking my car, via elevator power, of course. Some down time was needed, especially after such obvious proof that more zombies awaited me.

After partaking of lunch and calming myself, I assessed the work that awaited me. I decided to work on the stairway closest to me, the one at my usual elevator lobby. Opening up packs of the shims, I kept them in my sling back containing some tools and talcum, and went out armed with my helmet, club and crowbar only. The bracers never left my arms, of course.

The talcum powder had been washed off by the rain, though that mattered little now. I opened the door and stepped into the unknown. Closing the door behind me; I didn't want any nasty surprises slipping into my safe zone; I decided to start securing the floors above me first. The plan did not appeal to me at all, as I had to be ready for surprises from the various corridors and anything in the stairway itself. However, I had limited options, I didn't fancy clearing the corridors one by one with unsecured stairwells being potential swarming points, and I had to start somewhere and I chose to secure doors before corridors. So I climbed up, being as quiet as possible with straining ears.

I arrived at 15 and hurriedly closed the door without peering into the corridors, heart pounding. The last thing I needed was a rampaging pack of zombies rushing me. I grabbed my shims and shoved ithem into the space between the door and its hinges one by one. One above the top hinge, one in the middle and another below the lower hinge. For surety, I shoved a shim beneath the door as well. My attempts to open the door was met with no success, the shims near the hinges prevented the door from swinging inwards. I consoled myself into thinking zombies wouldn't have the presence of mind (heh, get it?) to even turn the door knobs, much less extracting the shims.I was being as quiet as I could, but fear of what lies beyond the door made me clumsy.

I made my way up to 16, and repeated the process. The other floors followed suit. It was time to go down. The constant pressure and exertion had me panting so I returned to HQ and took a break. Much better for my nerves this way. Hot chocolate is always good to calm me down. Nobody was around anymore to tell me it would make me fat.

The leftmost stairway was secured all the way to ground floor without incident. I left the ground floor door unjammed, in case I needed to run up them. I planned to shim this door as well once I've secured the other stairways. I took a lift back up to 14 and powdered the doorknob of that yet unsecured door.

By the time I was done, it was already 5pm. Not willing to risk doing a half-assed job of the middle stairway before dusk, I returned home to recuperate. My leg muscles were protesting from the abuse: they were not used to climbing 20 floors, even if most of the climbing was downwards.

I ate an entire bar of chocolate as dinner tonight. Life is good.

End log.

Entry 6 ~ Wheels Within Wheels, Plans Within Plans

15 July 2014
2000
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Nature designed everything with functional redundancies so when one system fails, our bodies are still able to perform. Plan your life the same way.

---

Nursing a hangover from calming my nerves two nights ago, I spent yesterday and most of today at home. To while away the time, I tried to be productive and made plans to ensure a more long-term survival to avoid thinking about myself as a murderer or killer after the incident two days ago.

1. Electricity will not last forever, I will need portable power generator(s) to ensure comfortable living and to prevent myself from going crazy. Like I said, I'm a city boy.
   
2. Safety considerations. I have yet to ensure the entire complex was safe. Eventually, I will need to clear all three stairways so I can survive being without the services of the elevators. To be safe, I need to block them off at strategic areas. I planned to block the entrances of the two stairwells closest to me on my floor from the outside. This leaves me with the last one to exit the 14th floor from. Then, I will block off the two closest ones to me on the ground from the outside as well. If anybody or anything wanted to come in, they would need to pull apart whatever it was I used to block the entrances. As for the Ground floor entrance of the farthest from my HQ, I would block it from the inside when I was in residence, so I can unblock from the inside when I wanted to venture out. I could either block it from the outside after I have left or leave it bare for a quick re-entry. The reason I chose the stairwell farthest from me was due to the fact that every entrance to the stairwells was a fire escape, and they each have an emergency Fire Alarm button next to the doors, where you pull a chain to ring the bell. I intended to tie the chain to the door knob so that when the door was opened, the alarm would ring. The farther away the security breach occurred, the more time I would have to plan my escape. In fact, I would tie all 3 chains to their respective bells, but it was still safer to give them the "easiest" entrance as far away as possible. The closer two doors can have the bulk of barricading while the last one would have a softer barricade so I can go in and out without killing myself with fatigue.
   
3. I need to find materials or items bulky enough to block the doors in the first place, this is a problem I have yet to solve.
   
4. I will need extra vehicles. In the event my complex was overran and I escaped via rope ladder, it stands to reason I would not have the time to run back towards the carpark while escaping zombies. The spare vehicle needs to be near the rope. I had been taught how to hot wire cars from some helpful Aussies, but I still have no idea how to break into the car without shattering the windows. The fact that I am a visual learner and the Aussies could only explain the process to me via text-based emails did not help. Having a windowless car while driving around dodging zombies did not strike my fancy at all. Visions of one or more Problems hanging to my door while I screeched off did not appeal to my sense of safety.
    
5. Other than Apartment 0, it is imperative I find a secondary egress site so I have options to turn to in the event of emergencies.

I had a lot of issues, none of which had immediate solutions, but I felt better for having a list of priorities to work on. The issue of power generators was one I could see myself solving. There were limited things in my apartment that I could use to block just one of the stairways, so that doesn't provide a complete solution, not yet anyway. I planned to break the window of one of the cars in the parking lot and driving it to my rope escape site anyway. Beggars can't be choosers, and until I found an intact car I could break into, that would have to do. If I did get overran by a horde, I suspect being in an exposed car would be the least of my worries.

After I managed to mail my findings of the zombie from the previous entry to my contacts in Australia this noon, I dressed myself for another outing. It felt good to have sturdy magazine bracers on my forearms instead of flimsy newspapers. I was highly concerned with personal protection after my first encounter. The golf club that was used for the kill was left in the corridor, in case any stray blood was left on the head. After two days though, the blood should have dried and virus dead. But hey, why take any chances, right? I tried not to think about any possible contaminations in the car where I rested the club on the way home.

I had tied strings around my hardware so I could sling the crowbar and cutters across my shoulders as I did not plan to head out today with a backpack in tow. I did, however, bring along my sling bag with some items that might come in handy.

Hefting a new golf club, I descended to the Ground floor again and proceeded directly to the car park complex. I drove my car around every floor again until I reached the rooftop. I knew my task would leave me exposed for a long period and did not want anything creeping up on me. The complex was empty, as I far as I could tell, and I chose a car as my target on the rooftop as it would take any creepers to get up 6 floors to reach me.

Parked my car back at its usual spot and took a lift to the roof. I tensed, ready for bear, as the elevator arrived. For some reason, there was a bicycle inside the elevator. It got removed and I rode the moving cupboard up to the roof and approached my victim. First, I checked if any of the cars there was unlocked, but no luck. This was Malaysia, after all.

I chose a somewhat solid-looking Ford pick-up truck. I jiggled the handle, no luck. I climbed onto the truck bed and smashed the glass of the back window with my golf club. Well, it was obvious how unprepared I was as it suddenly hit me that I couldn't very well slide into the truck from the back as there was glass all over the backseat!

Scanning my surroundings quickly, I ensured nothing was moving and unslung my lock cutters. I leaned into the hole I made and grabbed the lock knob thing of the backseat with the cutters and pulled the knob up. Mercifully, there was no alarm! Wow...that was a big surprise. I was rather worried as I wasn't completely confident with my ability to hotwire a car with the alarms blaring.

Stepping off the bed, I unlocked the front door after opening the back one, and went to work. Hands under steering wheelhouse, yank, and unjumble the spaghetti of wires. How hard could it be?

As I found out much to my chagrin, pretty darned hard. Firstly, I had trouble finding the wires and ended up having to break the plastic that shielded the wheelhouse. Eureka! Wires! I pulled the whole bunch out of the frame and used a pair of pliers from the sling bag to trim the sheaths of the wires I had to cross. The truck started protestingly. I was grinning like an idiot. I was now officially a master criminal! A glance at my watch showed that the whole process from breaking of window to starting the car took nearly half an hour. Well, that burst my bubble. I can't need 30 minutes to escape from zombies! Practice will be needed.

I drove the truck (conveniently with an almost full tank of gas) to the landing zone of my escape spot. I should be able to drop right onto the truck bed, and climb in via the non-existent back window. I took the chance to clear the glass from the backseat with my gloves on and practiced starting the truck a few times until I was satisfied I could make a quick getaway if necessary. I hung a rubber mat thing that was in the truck bed over the broken window to prevent rain damage, and made my way back to the courtyard.

I still had time, so I decided to raid the grocery store. That was why I had brought along the lock cutters in the first place. Placing my golf club on the ground carefully near me, I "unlocked" the store and swung the shutters up.

Treasure! The store was pristine. Apparently the shopkeeper must've just abandoned the place and NOBODY thought it would be a good idea to loot the store. I guess everyone must have had assumed that the old man took everything with him. I had a veritable mine of food stuff here, though the rotting fruits and vegetables did not look overly appetising.

Taking note of the extra tables and shelving I could use for my blockade, I resolved to wheel my trolley down tomorrow to block at least one of the stairwells. I pulled the shutters down again and made my way home.

I felt more confident with how to handle things now, especially around my apartment which has been very kind to me and appear to be Problem-free. However, I tried to remember Zaph's rules #3 and #4, I hadn't explored the whole apartment yet, so there could still be zombies lurking somewhere. And as I had discovered, they could run to me from somewhere anyway even if I was in a safe zone. I once again mentally thanked my helmet for making my life so much easier, and wondered briefly if I was starting to go crazy like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, replacing his ball with a helmet. Yikes!

I secured my floor's corridor again upon dinging back on 14, and redusted the place thoroughly. I was very pleased with my activity today: finding a spare escape vehicle and an emergency food store.

End log.

OOC (Out of character): I realise this chapter isn't really up to my usual standards as I couldn't seem to get myself into the zone of "being alone and scared shitless". That said, most of the stuff said here are essential to the follow-up storylines, so I'll just leave it be for now. Might return to re-write it if I feel inspired.

Entry 5 ~ First Encounter

13 July 2014
2000
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections:

Forget everything Hollywood taught you about zombies. This is real life! The only advantage you have is still having a logical mind, and panic removes that conveniently.

---

I've spent the last few days working on my golf swing, and just plain recovering from the stress of venturing out. I had been planning to head out for a food raid again soon, but Fate decided to hurry along my trip. Last night, my laptop decided it needed to say goodbye. In order to keep up this log, I need a new laptop. Of course, that's assuming the Internet stayed alive. I have yet to find out anything useful for the Aussies, and they obviously haven't made much progress considering they haven't any way of obtaining samples to work with.

I digress.

The first flaw of my security plan was obvious when I opened the front door. All traces of the powder was missing after a few days' worth of wind. My tension levels immediately rose a notch. Already equipped in my usual gear, I had to step back inside to prepare a fresh supply of talcum. Priorities made me ensure my floor was safe before I made my way out. Everything looked normal on the far end, both stairwell doors were securely closed, powder was still on the knobs. Guess the wind can only do so much. Nevertheless, I dusted both doors generously. The elevators were all stuck on 14. I powdered the corridor around the entrance of my headquarters and all the way to my usual lift lobby. A quick check made sure the door to the stairwell was likewise untouched and re-dusted.

Feeling marginally more confident, I dinged at Ground, and did a long view of the courtyard. All looks quiet, so I sent the elevator back to 14. Familiarity bred contempt, I was able to walk to my car casually as if there was no Problem in the world.

I drove back to the mall I had burglarised previously, for reference's sake it was The Mines.Turning my alert mode back on, once again I blared the horn and waited. Nothing. It was beginning to feel surreal, the many incident-free forays were enough to make me careless. Mentally chastising myself and reminding myself to be ready for anything, I stepped out of the car, and into the hellhole of decomposition that was once a shopping mall.

Grasping my golf club firmly, I walked the distance and climbed the four floors necessary to reach a popular Computer store. The rear view mirrors did wonders for my frayed nerves. I no longer needed to turn round and round every ten minutes. Progress was fast. Rule #5 was obeyed fully. 

The store had its shutters closed. Looking around carefully to ensure no unhappy surprises awaited me, I dug the crowbar from my back pack and pried the store open. It had one of those new lock things that was automatic and didn't require padlocks, which makes it harder to pry open. The noise I generated was cacophanous. It made me nervous all over again. I finally raised the shutters high enough for me to enter without having to leopard crawl my way in, and had another look around for movement. Nothing. Weird, but I wasn't complaining.

I ducked and entered IT paradise. The store was deserted, as far as I could tell. Made sense as the entrances were closed in the first place. Well, I finally got my hands on a Microsoft Surface Pro. It only took a zombie apocalypse to make it happen, but booya! I took two, just in case. Saw some IT magazines on a rack, I took those too. Didn't want to re-tape my newspaper-bracers while in a potentially hostile area. Batteries joined the goodies, and before leaving I forced the shutters down again.

Creeping down five flights of stairs to the Giant hypermarket in the basement, I made use of all the skills I learned while being Snake in first-person shooting games to make sure the coast was clear (no, not Metal Gear). It may sound amusing, but it was not easy! The bodies that littered the way between the stairs (or escalators) and the hypermarket made it impossible to use the wheelchair, so I would have to pick what I want in the wheelchair and find a safe space to transfer everything into my backpack.

Once again, canned foods were the order of the day. Pasta and sauces made it in as well. Power's out in the mall so the stench of rotting food permeated the air. One would think I would had gotten used to that by now. Hardly so. More talcum!

I made it in and out of the mall in record time compared to my previous foray: three hours. Unloading my backpack into the car happily, I caught a flash of movement in my mirrors. I turned around quickly, and lo! I caught sight of someone running from the end of the car park towards me. It was a man, and he was waving at me, probably asking me to wait?

I gave the area a quick look around to spot any potential Problems and saw none, so I shouted at the runner to take it easy, don't trip and fall. He didn't do any of those, just kept running like Forrest Gump.

Again, I told him to slow down, I wasn't going to leave a fellow human being behind. He was 10 yards away when I saw the expression on his face. He wasn't panicking that I was leaving him behind at all. In fact, he was positively snarling at me like I was...a piece of steak.

Holy crap!

I panicked! I locked my car, forgetting I had already unlocked it previously to put my stuff in. I was empty-handed, armed with nothing but my car keys. The runner was nearly onto me when I reacted instinctively. I dropped and side-swept him with my leg, a dirty fighting technique a friend once taught me, about the extent of my fist-fighting knowledge. He fell face first. I sprinted around the car while unlocking it. I drew my golf club from the passenger seat, and saw a face in my right mirror.

Tiger Woods would have been proud of me that day. The club connected perfectly with the giant head-sized golf ball as I sent the zombie(?) flying to the side. The club was bent slightly at an angle. The runner laid there on his back, twitching horribly. His skull was caved in on the right. 

I stood there, learning how to breathe. After an unknown period of time I regained my faculties and looked around again to secure my surroundings. No movement. I prodded the corpse gingerly with the golf club, ready for it to spring up. No movement.

I examined the zombie carefully. The undamaged half of his head looked perfectly human. No pallour marked his skin. He looked remarkably...human. I could remember details now that I had not noticed in my panic. He was breathing hard while running towards me. For all intents and purposes, he had seemed alive. Not so now, at least, lying there with the head smashed, with no rise and fall of chest to indicate breathing. Red blood trickled out of an ear. Huh...this was something new. I doubt anybody has reported any close encounter with a zombie as yet, I'll have to check with the Australians.

The adrenaline was leaving me and I was experiencing the shakes. I sat in my car with the doors locked and waited it out. Once I felt stable again, I walked back calmly into The Mines and located a camera store.  I smashed the glass "door" open with the golf club and came away with a pair of binoculars. I was not going to run the risk of mistaking a Problem for a regular human again.

.

The journey home was introspective. That creature had caught me unawares. There was none of that jerky-movement, weird moaning noises or abnormal appearance that Hollywood had trained us to look out for. Damn you Hollywood! Also, apparently they do not require decapitation to reduce them to true death. Or so it seemed, at any rate. That zombie recovered way too fast from my side-swipe to have been a shambling idiot. I can see now why a horde was a big Problem for containment earlier on.

Before I knew it, I was nearing home. Finding my brains back in the present, I nearly missed the petrol station, my car needed feeding soon, might as well do it earlier. I circled around the station a few times first before pulling up at a pump. It looked safe. I was triple-scanning the place now and forgetting about Rule #5.

I got out of the car and checked if the petrol station even had power on. Yeap! Mental note to self: Need to shop for power generators soon. Walked into the counter, no corpse, no movement, just blessed air-conditioning. Well, there goes the global warming problem, I guess.

Rummaging around the place, I only found tiny 2L containers for emergency gasoline. Looks like I would have to venture elsewhere to get a larger reserve tank. Got behind the counter and studied the controls, I've never had to "turn on" a pump before, but hey if an imported foreign worker with no education can do it, there was no reason why I couldn't, is there? Bingo! Easy straightforward buttons. Pump number, amount.

I stood there like it was normal, feeding my car, cleaning the windscreen and windows with the courtesy squeegee wiper thing, and filled up five of those tiny 2L hip flasks. Time to return to base (RTB). I've got some new info to upload to the Aussies, after all.

Drove in, parked the car, dash through the courtyard and waited for the lift. I think I was getting a second shot at the shakes. I dinged back on 14th, and willed myself to check all the access points before heading home. HQ was a blessed haven and I indulged myself in some furry therapy as I held my only living company close to me while I shook uncontrollably in the living room.

End log.