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.

Entry 4 ~ The Lay of the Land

9 July 2014
1945
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections:

I have realised by now, that the stress and tension affects me in ludicrous ways. I need to get a better grip on myself. Be ready for anything. The only way to get over the stress is to get used to it. Practice makes perfect!

---

I had inventoried the spoils of war from my adventures yesterday, realizing belatedly that I had forgotten all about grabbing magazines for my forearm shields. The newspaper sheets I used yesterday were half soggy from sweat, but they still look serviceable after drying overnight. This necessitates another field trip, eventually of course. However, I was still shaking from that ordeal too much to consider venturing out from home.

The night was spent attempting to glue my hand mirror to the helmet, so I could have a better idea of what's going on behind me. A rearview mirror, so to speak. The effort was spent in vain, as it was not possible for me to fasten it anywhere without impeding my front vision. I gave up, and in my frustration came up with the solution: motorcycle side mirrors! There were still a few motorcycles left in the parking bays when I drove around yesterday, and I wouldn't have to travel very far.

This became my obsession. My immediate plans were to secure "the perimeter", but I couldn't do it while looking over my shoulder every few seconds. I wanted to ensure the corridor on my floor is secure and not have to spend so much time stressing about it the moment I step outside. Plenty of stress to go around without additional burdens. I wasn't about to get complacent just because I had a Problem-free day.

Once again, I put on my personal protection gear, with an empty backpack in case I saw anything I would like to pick up. Golf club in hand, I stepped out, wincing again at the sound of the grill sliding open. I mentally added chicken wire to my wishlist so arms could not reach in past the grill to grab me. The powder I left on the ground yesterday was a little wind-blown, but looked track-free.

Hugging the walls, I crept towards the elevators. The corpse still laid there, discomfiting me. I dinged at the ground floor, but didn't send it up this time. After an interminable age, I found myself in the parking lot, breathing hard. I felt safer in here, as the huge parking complex magnified any sound in echoes. I should be able to hear if anything was rushing towards me. Finding the nearest motorcycle, I twisted the side mirrors off and slipped them into the side pockets of my cargo shorts. Pleased with myself, I started on my way back. So far, so good.

I returned to HQ uneventfully, and set forth preparing my new toy. Trimming the edges with the padlock cutter, I managed to position the mirrors upside down with their stalks glued to my helmet. They were even adjustable!

Lunch was a quick affair. Open cans, chew and swallow. Good thing about Malaysia, our canned foods come in a variety of flavors. I couldn't imagine myself living on Spam everyday.

In the afternoon, I wanted to ensure I had a secure floor. Arming myself with a golf club and carrying canisters of baby powder in a sling bag for easy access, I set out with my helmet and new mirrors on. This time, I left the doors unlocked in case I need to make a quick egress.

Deciding to take the easy path first, I chose the direction I have been using lately and arrived at the familiar lift lobby. I peered into the stairwell, up and down. Nobody home. Good. I deposited the corpse in the stairwell and shut the fire-resistant door, with the assumption that no zombie would have the wit enough to turn door knobs. Just in case, I doused the door knob with a generous coat of powder. The door opened towards the stairs, if they wanted to close the door, they would need to hold the knob to do it. I went past the lobby to the end of the corridor. I could see that it was empty, but it was best to be sure that all the apartment doors were closed and locked.

Satisfied that this side of the corridor was secured, I moved back to my apartment and started down the other way.

There were 3 pairs of elevators that served my block. I had secured one of these pairs. The corridors were dark so my mirrors were not terribly effective. I found myself still making 360 degree sweeps visually, just in case. I reached the middle lobby, inspected the stairwell and shut the door, repeating my powder-dusting. The elevators were at random floors: 12 and 20., which means the last time they were used, it was to access the apartment.

I pressed both the "up" and "down" buttons, as I would not be able to summon the other lift when one arrives. They would arrive at different times, thanks to the difference in distance. The one from 12 dinged open, nothing. I remembered to breathe again. 20 arrived, and the doors groaned open, obviously in need of oil. I flinched at the noise. The elevator was empty, also.

Returning to the corridor, I checked both directions to ensure no nasty surprises came my way before completing my journey to the final lobby. Once again, I peered into the stairwell, and as I dragged the door shut (the hinges felt terribly rusted) I thought I heard a noise.

Time froze.

I could hear my heart beating loudly in my throat and I was sure anybody or anything in the stairway could too. I waited, the door still open one foot wide, listening, or trying to.

Time passed.

I know not how long I waited there, but nothing happened, no more noise came. I shut the door, and dusted it with talcum, wondering all the time if I was going to die from a heart attack instead of a zombie attack. The final two elevators were on ground, I had to risk having both arrive at the same time, and pressed the buttons.

They arrived one after the other, opening seconds apart. Again, empty. I was starting to think that zombies were overrated, and perhaps all the Problematic humans joined the ranks of the dead. I wondered what they would eat, once they ran out of us regular humans. Hope kindled in me.

I powdered the entrances to the elevators with what was leftover in my canisters and did the same for the middle lobby on my way home. I had secured my floor, somewhat. The doors were just shut and were by no means safe. Eventually, power will fail and I would need to start taking the stairs to leave the apartment. I need a better solution. Soon.

I leaned across the balcony of the middle lobby and looked down to the courtyard. It looked empty. I knew we had an in-house grocery store there, and that was the main reason I wanted a lock-cutter. I would have an emergency stash of food available at least, once I've checked the place out later on. I had enough to last for a week from yesterday's raid. Plenty of time to practice my golf swing and make other preparations.

Moments later, I returned home safely. Thoughts geared towards what to do over the next few days instead of agonising about life and how unfair it was. I was alive. I was dealing with it.

I spent the rest of the day tying knots at regular intervals into my ropes. I had a miniature "balcony" outside one of my windows, a 3 by 6 foot section where people mount their AC units on. The balcony had a very sturdy looking metal barrier that I intended to tie the rope to during emergencies. I tied the rope to it now and threw it down to ensure it was long enough for my backup escape plan. There was more than enough rope. I was glad I grabbed so much yesterday. My rope ladder was a legacy of my scouting days. Thank you, Gavin, for teaching me this. He was a rich kid 15 years ago, I hope he made it out alive to Australia.

Pulling the rope back up, I trimmed the extra length in case I needed the rope for other purposes.

Now, I'm going to fill myself up with liquid courage and worry about the coming days later.

End log.

Entry 3 ~ Zaph's Rules for Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse

8 July 2014
2235
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections:

I need to get fitter. Life may not be worth living alone, but I will keep up the fight. I will find meaning and direction in this desolation. So help me, whatever divine being that exists.

---

I ventured out today after a night of preparations. I guess this is as good a time as any to share some of the rules Zaph shared with me.

Rule #1: Find somewhere secure, and stay there. There is NO sense in following the crowd. Shit always happens in crowds. It's an all-you-can-eat buffet line for the zombies. Sit, stay.

I took this rule to heart. I've been a solitary person for most of my life. My apartment was reasonably secure, and there was only me and my cat in residence. All I had to do was to have enough food to last. However, I underestimated this bit. I've ran out of food after just 3 weeks. It is now no longer time to sit and stay. It's time I broke rule #1.

Rule #2: Never assume you are safe with your fellow humans. Learn from the boy scouts: ALWAYS be prepared. You can only count on yourself, everyone else is a liability.

Well, no danger of breaking rule #2 here. As far as I can tell, I'm all that's left here.

Rule #3: You are never safe anyway. Keep your ears and eyes open at all times. Zombies do not appreciate your need for privacy.

Alright. Deep breaths. This is the hard part. I'm not much of a survivor. I've been in exactly one fist fight, back in primary school. In all my preparation, I neglected to arm myself before my self-imprisonment.

I packed my backpack last night. Bottle of water and candy bars for energy and sustenance. Tied the wheelchair I appropriated from the hospital in the mass exodus to the bag. This is useful to carry whatever supplies I manage to raid and will be less noisy than trolleys at the supermarket. All the movies show that sound attracts the zombies. I've not met a Problematic human yet, but I'm going to assume the movies got some parts right, and it's a logical assumption in this case. A box of rubber gloves went in too, the advantages of working in the lab.

Having no magazines at home, I wrapped my forearms with thick wads of newspaper instead. Hopefully these were enough. Double layers of rubber gloves went on my hands, in case I had to grapple with a wounded zombie. Over these, I pulled on my leather gloves which I couldn't bear to trash since my undergraduate days spending winter in Australia. These are important because rubber gloves tear easily on rough surfaces. A face mask completed the ensemble, I didn't want to swallow anything from the zombie: even if it's not infectious, the ick factor is highly undesirable. I saw Brad Pitt say "I got it n my mouth" in World War Z and I was not at all eager to repeat the performance.

I armed myself with my mop and a dining chair. It wasn't the best of armaments but they were the best I owned. Locking my cat up so she won't accidentally run out, I quietly opened my wooden door. Deciding against locking anything in case I need to make a quick escape back into my apartment, I shut it quietly. Rubber shoes went on, and I took a deep breath. Show time!

It was next to impossible to unlock and open my grilled sliding door silently, so I brazened it out. It opened with the usual cacophony, especially loud in the eerie silence. I stood in the lobby of my apartment, chair and broom ready at a warding position, and waited. Nothing came. I stepped out and looked to the left and right quickly. Nothing.

Sliding the grill shut again, I pondered of the probability of someone sneaking into my unlocked headquarters and dismissed it. If there were any humans left, they're welcomed to it. I made my way stealthily to the stairway and lift lobby and considered taking the stairs. I live on the 14th floor. Electricity hadn't failed me thus far, I pressed the "down" button on the elevator. The lift opened, I wasn't ready for any potential Problems greeting me, didn't even consider it until the door opened. There was a half-eaten, decomposing corpse in there with the head and chest missing.

I gagged, fighting against nausea, and the lift mercifully closed. I realised that I didn't know what awaited me on the ground floor, at the same time, I didn't know what awaited me down 14 flights of stairs either. Fuck it. I pressed the button again and dragged the corpse out. If I was going to be overrun by zombies, I'm not going to get tripped by a corpse.

I arrived at the ground floor with a pleasant ding from the elevator system. I had my chair shield ready to rebel any boarders but I was greeted by silence. It couldn't be that deserted here, could it? My arm was getting tired dragging the chair around, and I revised my priorities. Weapons first, food supplies later. I surveyed the lobby warily and saw peaceful nothingness. The grass was getting a little long. I sent the elevator back to the 14th floor, and did the same with its twin. This way when I get back, I wouldn't get any nasty surprises, I hope.

My designated parking lot was the nearest to the lift lobby, so I hadn't needed to change my routine during my exile. It was only 30 strides to my car, but the tension made it seem miles away. I walked with my broom and chair and kept having this itch on the back of my neck thinking something was going to hit me from behind. I needn't have worried, the place seemed deserted. I got into my car with no incident.

Rule #4: Geography. Learn the terrain. Know where is zombie-free. If you haven't checked it, assume there are zombies.

We have a multi-level carpark. I decided to take a round in the car to survey every level to see if there were any lurking zombies. I turned round and round, up the carpark. There were a few cars and vehicles left here and there, but mostly it was empty of both humanoids and drivables. That might explain why I haven't been attacked.

I turned out of the carpark and drove around the apartment complex proper, nothing either. Remarkably, the boom gate was still intact so I scanned my access card to get out.

I relaxed into the drive, keeping half an eye out for any shambling figures that might spell trouble. I'd decided where to go for my first supply raid. It was a nearby shopping mall in a sparsely populated neighbourhood. It was the lowest risk area I could think of, at least until I was better armed.

Not bothering with rules, I pulled up right at the entrance. There were other cars in the lots, so I assumed I'd run into some problems. I honked for 10 seconds to grab the attention of any zombies, and waited with the engine running. I was delaying the inevitable. Nobody and nothing came running, so I turned the engine off and stepped out.

The sliding doors still operated. I walked in and the stench of rot hit me like a physical entity. Clearly, there has been death here. The real question is, was there life?

Rule #5: If you need to go somewhere to do something, do it fast. Get in, get out. Snap to it. Don't dilly dally about. Shit happens when you're slow.

I was dilly dallying. The coast was clear, time to move. As my first stop, I chose the sports department. I was aiming for a hockey (field) stick when I saw something better: golf clubs. It was a no brainer to grab all the heavy looking ones and stuff them in a golf bag that was on display. I slung that over my shoulder and nearly fell from the weight. Not such a great idea, but I needed the weapons. Giving in to necessity, I removed some of the clubs and hurried back to my car to deposit my new treasures. Needless to say, the chair and mop were left behind.

Grabbing one of the clubs, I returned to the mall, this time to the hardware store. With the golf club at the ready, I ran down the aisles, looking for rope and padlock cutters. I found the former halfway down the store. I needed more than I could carry, though, so it was time for the wheel chair. I hesitated, if a zombie attacked me while I was wheeling it around, I wouldn't be armed.

No dilly dallying! Right. Just get with it, James. I left the wheelchair there to hunt for my padlock cutters, minimising the time spent vulnerable. I found what I wanted and a crowbar as a bonus. Hefting it, I had visions of me going all Half-life on the zombies. I was getting hysterical. I slapped myself, hard. Right, I had nearly forgotten about duct tape. I found the adhesives section and took some packs of super glue for some side project later tonight involving a yellow workman's helmet I saw dangling off a hook.

Gathering my finds, once again I returned to my car. I was making too many trips. My senses were overloaded. I had to keep turning around to ensure nothing was behind me. It was nerve-wracking to be out here scavenging. I eyed the mall, should I go back for food and medication? How was I supposed to carry all these home? There was still food enough back home to last a few days, should I return here then? I'm here now, I've gotten lucky so far. Do I want to return here again?

No, I did not. Not really. I was frightened and I want to curl up in a ball and cry.

That decided me. I've had it with crying. I need alcohol, goddamnit. Whiskey. Be a man.

Self-rallying pep talk done. I took a long draught from my water bottle, refolded the wheelchair, and stalked towards the supermarket with club in hand. I had a grocery list, and I'm getting it or die trying.

Rule #6: Know if the zombies are in your designated safe area. Set traps, set markers. Doesn't have to be complicated, they just have to feed you information.

Getting to the supermarket in the basement floor was no easy task. Rotting corpses, all of them semi-devoured, littered the way. With these many people dead instead of turned, there must have been quite a lot of zombies in here. Yet I have not seen a single one. The anticipation was part of the dread. I didn't know what to expect.

My shopping list was large, and I can't wheel the chair back up the stairs. I'll need to use a trolley and put them in plastic bags. I was glad this wasn't "No Plastic Day". Heh...I found my sense of humour. Fuck.

I grabbed everything on my list minus the food, since I couldn't carry that much in bags and still make good speed. Medication from the pharmacy section. Baby powder, reasons for which I will explain later. Aerosol bottles of insecticide and lighters. Matches. A portable stove, and as many gas canisters as I can carry to fuel it. All these went into my backpack in lieu of the water bottle. I was weighing myself down. Had to be careful of the weight.

Since I still had one hand available, I went on a food binge anyway. Canned foods, noodles, honey for flavoring and coffee. Couldn't live without coffee. Liquor, liquid courage. I fitted a bottle of Glenlivet and a bottle of Jack Daniel's in the loops of my backpack meant for water bottles. I'll need to grab rice on my next trip, I was running low.

Staggering under the excess weight, I made my way back to the car. The situation was still clear. This was too easy. I drove home, the clock read 1735. It was later than I had thought it was. I hadn't known I was that slow.

I rushed home and made it to my parking bay without incident. Deciding what to bring up with me was the hardest part. I still didn't trust this quiet  I left the clubs in the car, justifying that I will need them with me when I next go out anyway. I did strap an extra club to my backpack and tied the bag containing food to it. I would need to return for the stuff I lifted from the hardware store.

The lifts still read "14". It was getting dark, I was getting nervous. I dinged back at the 14th floor and made sure the corridor was still empty. Back into the apartment, unload. 1830. I figured I was so lucky today I might as well push it to the maximum. I know, I'm crazy. My body was tired and strung up from the stress, and I'm still pushing it.

I went down. I left my golf clubs in the apartment. What the fuck? Ran to the car, slung the bag like a second backpack, got my padlock cutter and crowbar for self-defence. The rope, I need that. I was crazy, but not crazy enough to return for a third trip. Out came the wheelchair again, at the expense of self-defence. I got everything. Up the lift. 14th floor.

Here's where Zaph came in handy. I took two of the baby powder canisters I stole today, and dusted the corridor from elevator to apartment, push the stuff inside, and powdered a few feet the other way, where I had not explored. This way, if anything walked by and I'm not alone, I would know. It's crude, but effective. Until I get a better option anyway.

Rule #7: Don't stay out after sundown. Doesn't matter if the zombies are sensitive to light, YOU can't see well at night. Stay safe. Rest. Sleep.

I had beaten dusk by a mere 10 minutes. The stress caught up with me and I collapsed immediately. I was woken up by my cat later in the night and I started to inventory my spoils. This has been a great day. No zombies though. Why?

End log