It's not over...

Hey guys

sorry for the absence of new posts.

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

Be back soon!

Entry 14 ~ Escape! And More Questions

2015
19 August 2014
Location: Apartment 0

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End log.

Entry 13 ~ Be Careful What You Wish For

1940
14 August 2014
Location: Unknown

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him: What are you doing here?

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

Him:No, I'm not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End log.

Entry 12 ~ Interlude

2030
6 August 2014
Location: Apartment 0

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

End log.

Entry 11 ~ New Developments

2225
27 July 2014
Location: Apartment 0

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell?

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

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

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

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

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

Things just got weirder and weirder.

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

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

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

End log.

Entry 10 ~ Armaments

24 July 2014
2000
Location: Apartment 0

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End log.

Entry 9 ~ Of False Joys and Inspirations

20 July 2014
1930
Location: Apartment 0

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End log.