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

Entry 2 ~ Goodbye, Malaysians

7 July 2014
2045
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections:

It's been 3 weeks since I've been cooped up at home alone. Since civilisation broke down. I feel like I'm slowly going mad, being on my own with only my cat and books for company. I wonder if there's anybody left outside? How long will I still have electricity? It's a miracle the internet still exists, though Google stopped working today. Good luck, Australia.

---

I have...had...many friends online, thanks to a game I play. You meet the most random of people online. Before there was ANY sign of the Problem, I developed a friendship with a guy from Canada that most people would call crazy.

This dude, is zombie obsessed! He plays zombie games, he watches zombie movies, and even believes that a zombie apocalypse will happen. Everybody laughed at him. Well, I guess the joke's on us now, huh?

Thanks to him, I'll refer to his handle as Zaph, I got what I considered then as crazy emails containing "Zaph's rules to surviving a zombie apocalypse". Hell, the crazy fucker saved my life. When we were first drafted by the UN to investigate the problem, I started re-reading his emails. We were sworn to secrecy though, and we weren't allowed to leave the lab or contact anybody for fear of generating panic. It was the hardest rule I ever had to live with.

When the government started implementing curfew, half of my lovable fellow Malaysians refused to follow it, believing it to be yet another attempt by the government to spread lies. They held rallies all over the country. The other half of us were safely locked up at home, or in my case, in the lab. That's when the horde invaded, via the Thai border.

In the northern state of Kedah, anti-government rallies were held and thousands attended. When Problematic humans crossed the border, there was chaos. Many were likely bitten but escaped. Cowardice, or misplaced confidence perhaps, led these to seek refuge with their families behind barricaded doors. 2 weeks later, the whole family would be infected.

The military was called upon to secure against the invasion and to enforce curfew. Nobody was allowed to loot. "WE MUST REMAIN CIVILISED!" become the national motto. Food stuff was parceled out, no hoarding was allowed. Those who could afford to leave the country, did. I called my family, told them what was happening, in direct violation of the law, and gave them copies of Zaph's emails. Nobody's been responding to my calls though. I'm not sure if I could live with myself for not doing more. I miss them. Mum's last words to me were to "Fight on". I cry everyday.

The military started to fail against the relentless rabid creatures that were no longer quite human in May.  Everyone fled southwards, which seemed like a good plan, except Singapore started having Problem cases of their own. I stayed behind in Kuala Lumpur. No point moving up and down. Dead is dead, except I'm still alive.

Not everybody left the city, we weren't hit by the Problem yet, though it was coming in a matter of days when the evacuation started. I raided for food, no law officers were left to enforce the curfew. I took only what I could carry. That was 3 weeks ago. I'm running low on supplies. Tomorrow, I will have to venture out of my apartment, my headquarters for the first time in nearly a month. The radio died 4 days ago, along with the television. I guess, there's nobody left to run programmes.

My mind is wandering, panic is setting in.

Before I end this log entry, I should post up a checklist of items I should attempt to obtain tomorrow. If anybody is still alive and reading this, I hope this helps.

Edibles:

• As much canned food, instant noodles and drinks as I can carry
• Gas stoves and portable gas canisters
• Cat food

Supplies:

• Rope, as much as I can get my hands on
• Containers for gasoline
• Gasoline
• Medication: fever pills, anti-histamines, bandages
• Magazines, have you watched World War Z? I did just last week. Wrap your arm with magazines and you can fend off bites for awhile at least
• Duct tape, lots and lots of duct tape

Weapons

• Guns, damned if I know how to use them, but I'd rather have them than not
• Machetes, long knives, axes, or motherfucking swords from lord of the rings.
• Cudgel-weapons. Malaysia doesn't play baseball but by God we play cricket and field hockey

Best not to get overly ambitious, being too greedy will slow me down.

End log.

Entry 1 ~ So the end begins

6 July 2014

Time: 2045

Location: Apartment 0, Selangor, Malaysia

It's finally happened. Damn you hollywood, fucking Resident Evil...How I've hated that game. Yet, I'm living it now.

This is the first entry into my logbook, some might call it a diary, it might work, but for what it's worth, I hope that if I were to succumb to this outbreak, these entries will help any survivors.

My name is James Tan, just months ago, I was an immunologist working in a brand new laboratory with leading scientists across the world. Now, I'm fighting for survival in my HQ, designated Apartment 0, waiting to die.

The movies got it wrong. There was no mass outbreak, no hysteria. No "going crazy" within minutes or even hours of being bitten. No exotic bio-terrorism genesis. 

We were drafted by the UN in an international effort to contain "The Problem". Rabies started making a comeback in the States, fucking raccoons. Nature's idea of a joke, I'm sure, Raccoon City and all. Somebody created a vaccine that helped immunise household pets from the disease. Then, some fucktard redneck decided to inject himself and his family with it. The vaccine had not made it to human trials. They got sick. Flu-like symptoms, fever, fatigue. Evidently they didn't believe in staying in bed. 2 weeks later, a neighbour visited and was eaten alive. The police were called in, the family was subdued and investigations made. Long story short, nobody figured out what happened until weeks after, when various people around the country proved that foolish people evidently had the same ideas independently.

There was no Patient Zero. The lengthy incubation period caused it to spread globally before anybody realised what was happening. Apparently, it also spread through sex, making its rounds like a nasty bout of STD that made gonorrhea look like the common cold.

When we realised what was going on, the WHO issued a statement to promote a worldwide curfew. Teams of scientists were recruited to work on the problem. We figured out what was going on: rabies was a neurological virus. It takes over the brain of an animal and make it aggressive. It affected humans differently, but this vaccine-strain was apparently causing the same aggression in humans, as well as a strange craving for cannibalism.

We studied cases. My lab worked on identifying the genetic aspects of the infection. A team in China worked on the infection model. India tried to vaccinate against the vaccine.

China discovered it is a blood-borne disease, primarily spread by bite, unsurprisingly, considering the source of the problem. You need to get the virus into your bloodstream, to facillitate infection. Reminds me of HIV. Sex doesn't actually spread it, but fine tears in the tissue can cause infection, explaining the primary outbreak. We in Malaysia found that the virus, being a vaccine-strain and thereby less lethal compared to the original rabies virus, integrated itself into the genome of the human host like a retrovirus and caused changes at the genetic level, explaining the state of the bodies and the mindless aggression. Obviously the genius who designed this took genes from a retrovirus, probably HIV, to create this rabies vaccine. He's a fucking twat. I hope he got eaten.

Cell culture showed the virus to have an affinity to neurons and muscle cells. Typical...not only are they aggressive, but they retain control of their muscles so they can direct their actions.

India found...we never did hear from India. The country disintegrated in December 2013, when the people refused to follow the governmental order of curfew. It was only a matter of time before Pakistan and Bangladesh fell, and from there on, other neighbours. The American continent was already hopelessly contaminated. Latin America fought for a long time, but rampant drug use helped spread the disease. Thanks to Egypt, it spread to Africa. Thanks to Turkey, it spread into Europe.

Research moved to Australia and New Zealand, the last bastions of Problem-freeness. Strict airport security in Australia helped saved it. New Zealand somehow succumbed to it, nobody knows why or how.

We got hit by the Problem in March 2014. In 2 months, 90% of the country was dead or Problematic. They don't discriminate, if you're alive, they eat you. If you got infected and escaped, you'll join their ranks.

I'm woefully under-equipped to face the Problem. A city-boy, through and through. I don't know how to handle guns, I don't know how to fight, I don't know how to fucking cook. I'm surprised we're still getting power and water, but that can't last.

I've not seen a Problem-free human in the last 2 weeks. Phone calls were made but unanswered. Autralia beckons but I have no fucking idea how to get there.

I'm going to sleep, tomorrow will be another day in survival. At least I managed to note the origins of the Problem. With luck, that information would be helpful.

In case nobody's realised it yet, the Problem isn't minor, the Problem is zombies.

End log.