From the journal of James Cohen, Somewhere around April 12

Somewhere around April 12, 2017

     I'm pretty sure that I am going to live. It has been somewhere around 3 days and I really thought I was going to join my beautiful Dorris almost every minute of that time. I barely slept or kept anything down and the few minutes of sleep I did get, I dreamed about eating people. It was like my brain was trying to prepare me for what I might become. I even dreamed that I was the one who got bit by Norman and attacked Dorris when I came back. In the dream, I had no memory of who she was when I first turned into on of those things. All I saw was fresh meat and I was starving. When I jumped her, her hand tasted like the best prime rib and if I hadn't woke up, I don't know if she would have been able to kill me. I might have dreamed about killing her and eating her. I cried and dry heaved for an hour after I woke up because I knew it really wasn't her who had bitten me. It made me feel less guilty about having been the one to put her down.
     But instead of dying, I have slowly gotten better. I still feel like shit and have a cough. My hand is almost back to normal size and the bite looks like a nasty bite, but is not oozing gross stuff anymore. I am also starting to get an appetite back, so the food we got at that last gas station won't last much longer. I am going to have to decide what I am going to do. If I am going to live, do I want to live without Dorris? Should I just kill myself and stay with her? Or should I keep going and keep living? After 20 years with her by my side, do I want to go on without her?

     I remember when we got married. We were so young and in love and wouldn't listen to anyone about how hard life was. We used every last cent we had to buy our first rig and started our life together on the road. And yes, everyone was right. It was really hard, but we had each other and it was enough. We scrimped and saved and lived in our rig, even on our days off, for years. Eventually, we bought a house to make our stops at and we treated it like our vacation home, while our rig was our home. And even though we were never blessed with the children we both wanted, we still had a full life together.
     I think I will take Tricksey out and make some food and think...

     It has been almost 4 hours. I took Tricksey out and she ran around peeing on every tree and blade of grass. Then she rolled on the grass and got me to play with her with a stick. It made me think about how hard Dorris would laugh when she would pick up the smallest twig to play with. Dorris loved our little dogs, she called them our babies. We always had at least one and more often than not, we would have more like 3.

 She would make them little clothes for when it was cold and little beds and blankets with their names on them. Dorris kept the little quilts, too. She kept saying she was going to make a memorial quilt out of them some day, I guess that day will never come now.
     Dorris wouldn't want me to give up and die and let Tricksey die too. I am going to have to find the strength to go on without the love of my life and it is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the recovered journal of the Battle of the New Alamo, April 14

April 14, 2017

    Those bastard cattle pulled the zombie waves over our walls last night. I had just enough time to grab my three choices and get them back to my room when all hell broke loose. The zombies crested and swarmed the people defending the wall. They had no chance and there probably wouldn't have been enough bullets to stop them once they started to get over. Everyone else just panicked and started shooting anything moving, which caused some deaths from friendly fire.
     I shoved the three cattle into their cell and after warning them to stay quiet or I would put them outside with everyone else, I closed the door between the rooms and secured it. I quickly covered the windows in my room and secured them with the supplies I had smuggled in. Then, I quietly settled down to survive the night.
     Several times, people pounded on my door trying to get me to let them in. There was no way anyone else was getting in, though, so I just stayed silent and let the zombies take care of them. At one point, one of the cattle started lowing to be let out, and I opened the door, put a knife to her throat and told her that she was going to be quiet, or I would slaughter her right then and there. I even told her that even though I would not be able to eat all of her before she went rancid,  I would still kill her to keep her quiet. That was the last sound I heard out of any of them.
     I wish it was the last sound I had to hear last night. The shooting went on sporadically for hours. I guess someone made it into one of the buildings and briefly secured it. It didn't last though. They were trying to save people and that was their mistake. If they had made it inside, secured their area and kept quiet, they might have made it through the night. But, whoever it was, kept letting people in and eventually, they were either over powered, or someone who they let in had been bitten. Stupid bastards. Their soft heart led to their death. I will not make the same mistake. I made it already, when we first got stuck in this shit whole and I will never make the same mistake again. I will survive! I don't care who I have to kill or who I have to eat! I will survive! No one else matters!

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of James Cohen, April 9

April 9, 2017
     I think that it is the 9th, but am not sure because I have been so sick. I thought I was going to die yesterday when I couldn't breathe without feeling like wet cotton was stopping the air in my lungs, but I am still here. I have spent most of my days lying in the bed in our cab. I found myself talking out loud to Dorris yesterday in my crazy state before I remembered that she was already gone. I have not been able to keep any food or much water down since she bit me and don't reall care. At this point, I just want to be with her again, even if it means that I am dead, too.
    My hand is huge, purple, and oozing this yellow, thick mucus like stuff. It smells like a dead animal so badly that it makes me want to puke just from the smell, so I have had to keep the windows cracked for fresh air. I have this pain that seems to pulse from my hand all the way to my head with every heart beat. I hope I don't last too much longer, it is hell right now.  The fever reducer I had gotten for Dorris hasn't done anything for my fever and I just shiver and shake from how high it is. I can hardly sleep because I have to sit up or I can't breath. This sucks especially because I know what the outcome is going to be. I should just take care of myself, but can't  find the energy to find something to do it with. It would take too much effort to even crawl into the front right now, let alone trying to get the glove box open to get the pistol with my dominate hand swollen so huge that I can't close my fingers.
     I have been going in and out of being awake. When I am out, I dream about our life together and it hurts every time I wake up because I remember that Dorris is gone and I am alone. When the world first went to shit, it was ok because we were together. But I don't want to be here without her. Why did you have to leave me, Dorris? I miss you already.

     Poor Tricksy has been having to use the cab for her bathroom and it is starting to smell enough that I can smell it over my hand. I guess I should just let her go, so she can have a chance to survive. But she is so small, I don't think she would make it on her own, which makes me sad because we have had her since she was a puppy. Her death will be another failure that I have had since this all started.
   

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Sarah Richards, April 7

April 7, 2017

     It took the undead all day yesterday to make it to the Towers. They have surrounded us and it's like they know people are in here. They keep their hands to bang on the sides of the building. It is making this banging sound that echos through the downstairs,  but we can't hear it in our apartment. Thank God we don't have windows on the first floor. If we did, they would have broken in already. Now we are stuck inside except for the tunnel and the other ends, at the port and the school, have been blocked so the zombies can't get in and come inside the Towers.
     Growing up here, you feel trapped inside in the winter because the weather gets so bad. Right now, it is not that bad outside, but the zombies have trapped us inside now. It makes me want to go outside so bad, I can almost taste the need to go outside. Everyone is trying to pretend that nothing is wrong and go about their day like they always would. But it is a lie and we all know it. Mom says that we are lucky because we are so secure, but are we really?
     The police officers have been really busy because the people who have nothing stocked in their apartments are already starting to panic. I don't think there will be any more shipments of supplies because the undead have taken over everywhere. That means that whatever stuff we already have in the building is all we are going to have. I bet that people start going after each other soon, once food starts to get low. I know that Mom and I are more prepared than most of the people here. Dad got us in the habit before he died because he said we never know what is going to happen and we need to be ready for anything. The .9 mm pistol and the 12 gauge are loaded and resting near our front door. Mom and I went through our place and grabbed anything that can be used as a weapon. My baseball bat, the old rusty machete Dad always kept in the coat closet, even the big knives from the kitchen, all of them have been put around the place so we can grab something if it goes to hell.
     I talked to my bestie, Mandy, yesterday and she told me that her family has food and water but they have no guns in their place. Her Dad has always been against them, he wouldn't even let her go to the hills to shoot with us. Now, this could be a death sentence for her family.  How he is going to protect them when everyone starts going after each other is beyond me. I might have to take Mandy in with me and Mom if things get as bad as I think they will.
     There is going to be a meeting of everyone in the building today on the first floor. I told the mayor that it is dumb to have it there because the zombies might be able to hear people talking and it might make them more determined to get in. But, he told me I am just a kid so I should mind my own business. What a dumb ass. This is everyone's business now, the business of staying alive.

     I told Mom that if worse comes to worse, we should go to the old abandoned Buckner building and whole up there. The only hard part would be getting what supplies we have over there. There is also the issue of it having no walls in parts. But Mandy and I have gone exploring and there are some places that could be made pretty secure. At least we have a plan, just in case. I even left some food, water and blankets in our hang out spot in Buckner last time we were over there. We have this old apartment on the 5th floor that has walls still and the floor is mostly solid. We covered the windows with wood from old, forgotten furniture from other apartments and it stays pretty warm. At least the wind is blocked and with it being on the hill side away from the port, the rest of the building helps to block some of the wind, too. I think I will tell Mandy to head there if this building gets overrun. We could take the tunnel to the port and push through the maintenance tunnel that runs to Buckner. I don't know if that part was used before the building was abandoned, but it lets us get to it in the winter. Our parents have asked us a few times where we go when they can't find us, but they told us to never go to Buckner, so we have not told them that is where we go. I think I will also see if I can get over there and check for zombies. The building is pretty run down, so there is nothing to keep them out. But since no one lives over there, they might not be drawn to it.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of James Cohen, April 7

This journal was brought to me by James Cohen, a truck driver from Louisiana. He is one of a very small group of survivors that is naturally immune to whatever caused the pandemic. He was on a job driving across the country for a large conglomerate when the pandemic started. He and his wife traveled together as a truck driving team and they lived in the cab of their big rig for most of the year, even though they owned a small place in Lafayette, Louisiana.

April 7, 2017

     Dorris and I stopped four nights ago in Effingham, Illinois along the 70. We pulled over at a Flying J to fill up the rig and Dorris went into the convenience store while I was filling 'er up. I had just finished up when I heard her scream like she never has before, and she is deathly afraid of spiders, so she has screamed in my hearing before.

      I ran into the store and saw Dorris with a zombie attached to her right shoulder. I picked up one of the large umbrellas by the door and shoved it through the top of the undead's head above her shoulder and he let go. I guess he was the employee on shift when the shit hit the fan, because he was in a uniform with a name tag that said his name was Norman. Well, Norman, rest in peace.
     Once he let go, Dorris pushed herself into my arms and sobbed. I had to push her away and grab a few towels to put on her wound. It bled like a son of a bitch and looked really angry right from the start. I should have known what would happen to her once she got bit, but how was I to know she would get really sick, die and come back?
    I got her back to our rig and went back for supplies. I looked at Norman, laying on the floor with the umbrella sticking straight up in the air from the front of his head as he lay on his back. It was the first time I had to take out one of the undead and I was bothered by the fact that he was a person before all of this started and I was the one who had completely ended his existence. I mean, I would hope someone would put me out of my misery if I was one of the undead, but it still bothered me.
     When I got back to the truck, Dorris was still sobbing in the front seat with our little mutt, Tricksy, in her lap. The towels were soaked with blood and I changed them out with the ones I had brought from the store. When I looked up afterwards, I could see 10 more of the undead stumbling towards our truck and Dorris yelled for me to get us out of there. I pulled back onto the 70 and drove towards the center of town, which I know now was a mistake. We got swarmed by the undead from Effingham, which had a large enough population to become a cesspool of undead filling the streets. I ended up having to run over a bunch of them to get us through town and out the other side.
     By the time morning came, Dorris was throwing up and running a high fever. I had to stop at a gas station on the 70 to find some medicine to try to bring it down. I also had to get more medical supplies to clean up her shoulder better and try to get infection under control from the start. It did not good, though. The next day, she started coughing and it sounded like ripping wet cotton by the following day. I did everything I could think of to keep her alive, but it was no use. Yesterday, she died in my arms with Tricksy howling from her lap. I cried so hard and so much, that I made myself sick. I decided to keep driving and to find a pretty spot to bury Dorris where I thought she would have liked the view.

     I had been driving for around 2 hours when I saw Dorris twitch out of the corner of my eye. I thought at first that I was imagining things because when I pulled over and watched her, she didn't move again for the 15 minutes I was watching. I thought it was wishful thinking on my part and pulled back onto the interstate. I drove for another half hour and then her whole body went rigid and she made this weird moaning sound. I was so happy to think that I had been wrong about her dying and pulled over again to check on her.
     Her eyes opened and her eyes were cloudy and when she looked at me, it was like she didn't recognize me. I thought she was just confused from being so sick and would know who I was really fast. I was so wrong, it was not my wife who turned to look at me. She growled and lunged at me and I put my hands up to protect my face from her snapping teeth. Her mouth locked onto my left hand near the wrist and I knew that I was going to have to do the same thing to her that I had done to Norman. I grabbed the tire iron I kept between my seat and the door and used it to pry her off my hand. I pushed her back to the door and held her at arms length with the tire iron. She reached for me, growled and snarled while snapping her teeth together. I pulled myself together and shoved the iron through her right eye into her brain while I could hardly breath from sobbing. After 20 years of sharing everything, to have to be the one to put her down like that almost broke me. I sat in the cab and cried from what felt like hours.
     When I got myself under control, I pulled back onto the interstate and within a half hour, I found a really pretty meadow where I buried Dorris and put a marker on top. I figure I am going to be joining her soon, so I am going to stay right here with her until I become one of the undead. Maybe I will take care of myself before I turn, I haven't really decided yet. I miss her already and Tricksy just cries and huddles on my lap. This morning, my hand is swollen to twice it's normal size and I have a head ache from hell. My lungs feel like they are filling up with jello and I know I have a fever. Dorris, I am coming soon, my love. Wait for me.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Carol Evans, April 6

April 6, 2017

     After my little freak out yesterday, I realized that my great grandparents didn't have any of that stuff and they survived just fine. I know the world will be a sadder place without coffee and chocolate, but I will live, even if unhappily. I think harder candy is going to last longer than chocolate, so once I find a place to stop, I will have to stock up on whatever I can find.
     I am keeping my eyes open today for any kind of town so I can look for supplies and maybe a library. Although, hauling around books doesn't sound appealing to me, if I can find even one book that might be helpful to read while  I am walking, mores the better.

     I wonder what kind of people are left now that the undead have claimed our world? Will anyone be a nice person anymore? Or will I only find people who will want to take whatever  I have? I really hope that there are still good people alive that are willing to help others. I just can't take a chance since I am on my own. Not that I have seen anyone alive in weeks. I only see the undead and only rarely since I have avoided any city or big town since Vegas. I learned there that wherever there used to be large numbers of people, there are now large numbers of undead. I am getting really tired of being by myself and would love someone to talk to,  no matter what subject is under discussion.
     I saw a sign yesterday on the side of Interstate 15 for a place called Kolob Canyons Welcome Center. I guess it is the entrance to Zion National Park and it's where everyone was supposed to stop and check in before going in to the park. The same sign also told me that is a city coming up, Cedar City, and it is too big for me to go through. I am going to have to skirt it and hope that there are some stores on the outskirts. I really don't want to go into the city. I am going to spend the night in the Welcome Center, if it is not full of zombies. Maybe I will get lucky and they will have food for me to take and I won't have to stop in Cedar City, although I am sure they have a library there. I would rather wait for a smaller city or town to look in, less chance of being over powered by the undead. I have to figure that if there were over 20,000 people living somewhere before the pandemic started, then there are more than likely over 20,000 zombies now.
      I wonder if anyone is immune to this whatever it is causing people to come back from the dead. With most other diseases and illnesses, around 2 to 5 percent of the population is naturally immune. If someone is immune, would they turn if they got bit? Or would they be protected? There is no way to find out, but I will have to keep my eyes open. If someone is immune, I wonder if a cure can be made from their blood? There might not be anyone left who could do it anyway.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Sarah Richards, April 5

From the journal of Sarah Richards who was raised in Whittier, Alaska. Since the beginning of her journal was not pertinent to the archive, I think some information on the place she grew up would be useful.
This place was known before the pandemic as the "city under one roof". Most of the towns 215 residents lived in the Begich Towers building which has 14 stories and 150 two and three bedroom apartments plus some bachelor efficiency units. It was competed in 1957 as an Army barracks and was first named the Hodge building. The building housed the fire department (volunteer only), the police department (three officers on permanent duty), a laundromat, a convienience store, a health clinich, a church in the basement and even a bed and breakfast on the top two floors. The school was attached to the towers by a tunnel and there were very few other buildings in the town.
April 5, 2017

     We knew what was happening on the mainland. We had heard the news reports before the T.V.'s went black. We had been mostly cut off from everyone else for our winter season. The only way in by land is through the Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel, or as we local call it the Whittier Tunnel. It is a one lane tunnel through Maynard Mountain and is the second longest tunnel in in North America. It is closed during the winter like almost everything else. That is why most of us live in the Towers. Sometimes, it sucks because everyone knows everyone else and we all know what everyone else is up to.
     Yesterday, we heard this weird sound down in the port. Since the view is so awesome, almost everyone has binoculars, so we were able to look to see what it was. There was a huge cruise ship that had ran aground and it's engines were still trying to move it farther forward. What was really bad though, there were a bunch of people jumping off the side of the ship and I didn't think they were alive anymore. We were screwed!!!
     Everyone went to the school through the tunnel and there was an emergency meeting. Some of the men from town were sent to down the tunnel to the port to make sure that end was closed. They took supplies to barracade the entrance but the Towers are not far from the port, so it wouldn't take long for the zombies to get to us.
     Our police force, all three of them, tried to calm us all down, but really, what good were they going to be against all those zombies? Then they told us to "stay in our homes" and "everything was going to be fine". What a waste of time! Mom and I went back to our apartment on the 9th floor and got ready to defend ourselves from the zombies. Dad had taught us to use the .9 mm pistol and the 12 gauge shotgun that he kept. We had plenty of bullets and shells. We had tons of food in the closets since you never know what the weather is going to do in the winter here. Mom had even preserved a bunch of fruit and vegetables this summer when the school was closed so she didn't have to teach. We were in pretty good shape and I am sure there are others here who were in worse shape than us. I just hoped that the undead would not find a way into our building.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Carol Evans, April 5

April 5, 2017

     It has been really hard to travel across the desert, even sticking to the main roads. Water has been scarce and food even more so. I am really glad that I found that stash of protein bars in that gas station a couple of days ago.  This morning I woke up and found some wild flowers and they were a welcome site. The bright red and deep purple color was like a taste of the best chocolate for my eyes. They have given me hope that there will be something other than this drab landscape around me, at least some day.
     I still have no idea exactly where I am. The maps I found at the same gas station were not very helpful. I can't really tell the difference in the hills and mountains, so I have not been able to pin point where I am. I have estimated how many miles I might have walked since leaving Vegas and think I am somewhere near the Nevada and Utah borders, not that it really matters anymore. There is no Nevada or Utah or even really a United States. No anymore.
     Now I have made my thought turn to chocolate and other things that will not be around for much longer. Once the candy that was made and shipped out last is gone, there will not be anymore to eat. The factories are gone and the farms that raised the cocoa beans are more than likely gone too. Even if they aren't, there is not way to get the raw ingredient to the places that used to process them into candy. Wow, it's hard to think that there will be no more M & M's or Snickers. Shit, there won't even be sugar since it is no longer being manufactured. Well, once it is gone, I might consider giving up coffee since it doesn't taste as good without it. It is already not as yummy without the half and half, but the sugar makes it palatable.

      When I just read that back, I laughed. Coffee is another one of those things that is going to disappear too. Shit. I don't think I really thought any of this through. There are a lot of things that are going to be gone soon. Man, the Mad Max movies were right about gas and water becoming worth more than gold. Without electricity and all the people to keep everything going, there will be no more made and what is already here won't last forever. No pumps to pull the water from underground will make water much more valuable too. Food production is gone. All the fresh food spoiled months ago, but even canned foods won't last forever. I guess I should have watched the Walking Dead so I could see what they did when all of this started to run out.
     Shit. I was so happy to see those flowers this morning and now it seems so hopeless. I am going to have to look for somewhere that I can grow food that has access to water. Maybe, if I am lucky, I will find a place with solar power and it will have a water pump that works. While I love camping, I am not a mountain woman. I don't know how to hunt or live off the land only. I am going to have to watch for a book store or library so I can read about how to do what I am going to have to do to stay alive. This is a lot for me to think about in the days ahead while I am walking.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Nathan Sanchez, April 1, 2017

April 1, 2017

      This morning already seems like a dream. We were just getting to the morning chores when we heard loud rumbling coming from the main road. I had no idea what was going on and no one else did either. Uncle Ramon yelled for us to get ready for whatever was coming. We all took up our assigned defensive positions and waited.
     It took more than 5 minutes for a dust cloud to come into view coming down the driveway. From the amount of dust being kicked up, we knew something big was coming. Either a huge zombie horde was coming with chainsaws, or a large group of vehicles was approaching. I was voting for the vehicles.
     The first thing I saw was a motorcycle. Then more and more of them with hardened looking men riding them. There were also a few trucks and a couple of school buses too. There must have been at least 25 men and with the buses, there could be more than that. Shit, we were in trouble.
     Darren and I stepped out into the driveway and blocked their way. A couple of the cousins had moved cars to made a gate behind us and were leaning on their hoods with weapons drawn.  The biker in the lead stopped his bike about 10 feet from us and motioned for the others to stop.

     They had no idea how many of us there were and where we were positioned. Before anything was even said, the bikers reached for their weapons and we all started firing. Darren and I dove to the sides and zigzagged back to the car gateway.
     We had been working on defensive strategies on and off for a couple of days, when time permitted, just in case. Diego, one of the cousins, had convinced us that we needed to make ourselves even more secure than we had after the horde came through.We had concentrated on setting up a defensive area for the undead, according to Diego we had not done enough to protect ourselves from the inevitable encounter with other live people. He had us set up firing stations in all the buildings on the ranch and we had built platforms into the larger trees. Everyone had been trained on how to use all the weapons, even the teenagers. The younger kids were in the basement with the oldest and weakest. We had reinforced the house and all of  our firing stations with old tires filled with concrete, another one of Diego's ideas. He also had us dig trenches and set up secure firing stations all along the drive way for at 100 yards from where the car gate was set up. He said he got the idea from watching documentaries on World War II.
     We had the group flanked and were able to fire on them with most of our family behind cover, as safe as we could make them. It seemed like hours had passed while we fired on each other, even though it was only minutes.  When it was over, there were moans and groans from the men who were injured. We followed the plan and walked carefully up to what was left of the bikers and their destroyed vehicles. Everyone still alive was disarmed and moved to the right of the driveway where there we put under guard while the dead bikers were taken care of to stop them from coming back. We gathered all of the bodies and piled them next to the injured, then we had a meeting in the yard about what to do with those who could survive their injuries. Or should I say an argument about what to do.
     It lasted over an hour and in the end, we all agreed that we could not keep the men alive and risk them trying another attack. A lot of us had strong feelings about having to do this, but what choice did we have? They had rolled up and attacked us without even saying hello and we had no idea why. Once the choice had been made, we spent the next hour arguing about how we were going to do it and who was going to be the executioner. It was finally decided that  several of the older generation would handle the duty and would do it by firing squad. They went to where the injured were under guard right away and the rest of us listened to the guns go off. Then Uncle Ramon used his backhoe to dig a large whole where the bodies were buried. The bikes and other wholly vehicles were used to make our defenses better.
     It has been a very quiet day since we finished, even the children have been unusually quiet. Most of us have been subdued and the men who handled the deadly duty were even more silent than the rest of us. This was going to be something that effected us all for a long time. And now we knew just how evil some of the people surviving out there had become. No one thinks Diego is nuts anymore and we have already made plans to set up more defenses. We had been living in a dream, thinking that we were safe here without having to protect ourselves from both the undead and the living.
     We will not make the same mistake again. We will be prepared for whatever comes down our driveway.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Carol Evan, April 3

This journal was brought to me by the writer, Carol Evans, from Newport, Oregon. She had owned a music store and spent her time off hiking and camping in the forests of her home state. She had learned how to live off the land and used her knowledge to make her way to Colorado.

April 3, 2017

 

    I have been hiking for weeks now. I am not 100% sure if I am right about what the date is anymore. All I know is I walk when the sun is up and I sleep when the sun is down. I have not seen many of the undead since I got past Las Vegas. Looking back, I know it was a major mistake to even get as close as I did to that city. Before this pandemic, it was considered party central and the undead had continued with the tradition after they were dead.

     I am lucky to have found out my error while on the very outskirts of the city. I think that the undead from the Strip had started to look for other food sources and had started to move into the rest of the city. I had just stepped into a suburb neighborhood when a group of at least 10 shuffled around the corner. I dived into the nearest house and closed the door as quietly as I could, hoping I had not been seen. I looked out the living room window and saw that they had not seen me. 

     I stayed there for the rest of the day and once the horde had wandered off, I searched through all of the houses near my hiding place. I could only take the best of what I had found, since I had been on foot since my car had run out of gas. It was easier in some ways, I no longer had to move the cars out of my way with my car. But it was harder because there was less to protect me when I ran into undead while traveling. 

     I had gotten very good at disappearing fast enough to avoid being seen. This was not a skill I had before the world ended. I was a good musician and an OK music store owner. I was skilled at being in nature and loved being out in the forest by myself. 

     This new world is teaching me things I never thought I would need. I have gotten really fast on my feet, even with my backpack on my back. I have gotten quieter on my feet and am stronger now than I have ever been. While I have always enjoyed hiking, I can now walk for hours and I don't have to stop and rest as often. I have also become a really good shot with my pistol. It was a present from one of my ex's because he hated me going out alone and, in his mind, unprotected. I had not had any reason to use it until my first run in with one of the undead creatures. Since then, I have had more practice than I could ever had wanted. 

     I found this notebook yesterday in a cabin and have decided to write when I can. I don't know exactly where I am headed, I only know that I have not found a place to be yet. I wish I knew exactly where I am but since that went out the window with GPS satellites, I will just keep trudging along.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Charlie Fast Fingers Pearson, April 7

April 7, 2017

    At least I think it has only been two days since we left the East Coast of the United States. We were doing fine, flying towards mainland Europe when something went wrong in the cockpit. The pilots tried to act like it was nothing, but they were not fucking successful at fooling us. There was no where to land at that moment and so we just had to keep going. The plane was able to stay in the air long enough for us to see an island. I thought I heard Mark and Jason arguing about whether there was enough open land to put the plane down, but what choice did we really have? With no satalites, no communication with anyone else, we had no idea what island was below. Marty tried to open the door to talk to the pilots but Mark yelled they were too busy doing calculations for the landing and to go away for now.
     I knew the minute the island was clear that there was not enough space for us to land. It would be a crash landing and that was not what we fucking wanted at all. We belted ourselves in and braced for the crash. We were still not ready for how violent it was. All I can remember of the crash was the sound of tearing metal, hot air and screams. The plane was torn apart by the trees and I knew that there was no way for everyone to have survived.
     I blacked out for I don't know how long and woke up to severe pain in my left leg and in my head. I heard a weird growling noise and when I opened my eyes, I could see the cockpit of the plane facing me. Somehow, the front of the plane had turned all the way around and I could see Jason was dead and turned. Mark was still in his seat but had been impaled but a large piece of metal. I looked around and saw that I was hanging about 10 feet from the ground held into my seat by the belt. There had been people in front and behind me, but now I couldn't see anyone else. My left leg was cut from the ankle to the knee on the inside and looked really bad.
     It took me a while, I don't know how long, to get myself free from the seatbelt and it was really painful to drop to the ground. I limped through the debris and saw that the cockpit was resting on a falled tree and that it would make it easier to climb up. Once I got there, I crawled through the where the windshield used to be and took care of Jason. Mark was barely conscious and was rambling about being sorry he didn't tell us. I stayed with him and listened to him while he got weaker and weaker. There was nothing I could do for him. I was fucking helpless to do anything for him while he died. From what he said, Jason got bit while helping to refuel the truck and didn't tell anyone. By the time Mark realized what was happening, it was too late. Jason bit him before he could secure him in his pilots seat. That made me feel a little less guilty. I would not have been able to save him, no matter what. When death finally came, I made sure Mark would not be reanimating and climbed out of the wreckage.
     I made my way through the remains of the plane and found a few of the others, wounded, but alive. We also found some of our group already undead. By the time we had accounted for almost everyone, we knew that seven of our numbers had been killed. Rest in peace Mark and Jason, our pilots; Cindy, one of the backup singers and Mary, one of our runners; Tanner and Art, two of Wills lackeys; and Shannon, one of the flight attendants. We piled all of thier bodies next to the cockpit and then we started thinking about what to do next.
     By then, it was starting to get dark and we quickly gathered all the blankets and clothes we could find to keep us all warm. We found all the food and drink that hadn't been destroyed while Med and Amy found a couple of the first aid kits and bandaged us all up as best they could. Some of the guys got a fire going and we formed a circle around it. That is when full dark came. We had no idea of where we were and we didn't know if anyone else was on this island. We were in the middle of a forest, on the side of a mountain, on an island in the middle of nothing during the zombie apocalypse. All we could do was wait for morning and try to keep eachother alive through the night.
     I know that I didn't sleep well. There were too many noises coming from all around us and we had to keep feeding the fire to have the light. Hopefully, today we will find out more about where we have landed.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the record kept by the twins Jenny and Barbie Crow, April 10

April 10, 2017
     We have been confined to our apartment for the last 8 days. Barbie became really ill. It started with nausea and vomiting. She was unable to keep anything down for three days and was really weak. It's weird, I would swear she got the flu, but where did she get it? We have not been in any contact with anyone else in weeks.  I had to give her fluids through an I.V.  and kept her in bed. On the 6th, she started coughing. I remember hoping that it was being caused by irritation in her throat from vomiting. If it was anything else, there would not be much for me to do. I could try antibiotics, but if the symptoms were caused by a virus, the antibiotics would be no help.

     She came down with a really high fever soon after. I had to make her take a bath in cool water after dragging her down the hallway. I kept changing out the water as her body warmed it up. It took hours, but her fever finally broke and I was able to drag her back to the bed. I was exhausted but could not really rest because I was so worried about her. The next 24 hours were touch and go. I disolved the antibiotics in saline and gave her some through an I.V. every four hours and kept trying to get her to eat some broth. It took until the 8th for her to completely turn the corner, but she started feeling stronger and was able to keep down broth and crackers.
     That is when I started to feel achy and nauseated. It has now been two days and I am in hell. I told Barbie everything that I had to do for her and made sure she is prepared. I am hoping that, like in childhood, I will get sick but not as bad as Barbie got it. For now, I am trying to force myself to ingest fluids and to eat as much as I can before I can't keep anything down. My eyes are burning and my stomach is starting to revolt, even at water. I started antibiotics right away in the hope that they will help me to get better faster. We still have a good supply of food and water. Although, if I have to get in the tub for a fever, it would make our water situation a little less secure. We are going to have to go out for supplies as soon as physically possible.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

   

From the recovered journal of the Battle of the New Alamo, April 13

April 13, 2017

     The zombies are going to breach the walls soon. The cowardly bastards will not quit crying to be freed and singing any songs they can remember, badly, too. I even heard one of them yell that they would rather be killed by the undead than wait to be slaughtered by us as food. It has drawn even more zombies to us and now they are forming a wave to crest over the walls. Stupid fuckers, they will be eaten either way. At least with us, they would have been dead before the eating started. They deserve the pain and suffering they are going to go through.  

     I am going to save three of our "cattle" for myself and I have already chosen them and finished making the room/cell as secure as I can. The windows are boarded up in both my room and in the room that used to be next door and also boarded up the door in there. I brought two of the big, old, heavy tables in to use like a door between the rooms and to cover my door once it's closed for good. The walls are thick adobe, so I don't think even the freaks can get through. I have been very frugal with the non perishables hidden in my wall and was able to smuggle a goodly amount of the remaining fresh food from the garden.

     My plan is to wait until dark before trying to bring the females up, one at a time. I am hoping that once everyone else has finished eating their dinner , they will go find a place to relax. At least, those who aren't assigned to guard duty on the walls. Then there will be less people around to see me make my move. I know we don't have the ammo to stop the undead this time and I made the mistake of letting in too many people when the cities walls fell. I will not repeat that mistake now! I am only worrying about myself and what I am going to eat. Everyone else can be zombie fodder for all I care. I just hope the freaks wait until after dark to come over the walls. Otherwise, I will have to be ready to put my plan into action, at any moment.
     Damn Waters and his men. If they had made it back, like they were supposed to, then none of this would be happening now. We would be able to feed everyone and would also have the ammo to defeat the undead around our walls. Damn them! Fuck them! I hope their deaths were painful and took a long time. I hope that just enough of them was left to come back and that they are out there, wandering around like the rest of those brainless undead zombie freaks! I hope they are still able to starve to death, even already dead, or undead. I hope it is slow and painful. Stupid bastards.
     I am going to have to start early. It is not even dusk yet, but  I don't think I will be able to wait. Wish me luck.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

   

From the recovered journal of the Battle of the New Alamo, April 12

April 12, 2017

     Those ungrateful cattle did not appreciate the kind opportunity that I offered them. Well, they can live like the cattle they now are, in the reinforced paddocks in the yard. We worked on them all day yesterday and now I feel that they are more secure. If those idiots don't want to serve us in life, then they can be served to us upon their deaths!
     At least they have stopped whining about their rights. They must have realized that it is now them and us. We are no longer one group and it is because they refuse to change with our times. There is no other food source.

  We did find a tiny bit of food in the historical garden, but it was not enough to feed everyone. It is just a small plot that the historians used to show what types of food might have been grown here in the heyday of the Alamo. But why waste our little bit of fresh food on our food source?. I think we should just feed them grass. While it doesn't have any real nutritional value for humans, it would fill their bellies and keep them alive a little longer
     I was walking by the paddocks last night and I heard loud whispering. I think they are trying to come up with a plan to free themselves. Well, I made sure the guards are aware and know to expect anything.
       I am going to prepare my room, just in case it has to be my last refuge. I still have most of the non perishables that are in my wall. I had already taken over the room next door and have knocked a whole into it through the wall. It is a really small room and I have turned it into a small area that I can use as a cell for a few of the cattle. That way, I can stay alive for as long as I need to.  I will be smuggling some of the garden food into my room tonight so I can make sure we ration the food to last longer. At least, that is what I'll say if someone sees me. I will survive no matter what I have to do and no matter who I have to eat! I would eat my own mother, if I had to, to stay alive.
     What is that racket? It sounds like a bunch of drunk people attempting to sing in harmony. What the fuck?
 

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

   

From the recovered journal of the Battle of the New Alamo, April 10

April 10, 2017

    I have made sure that everyone who was against the lottery have been secured. They will not stop the rest of us from surviving! I will make sure of it. Last night, when I told the others of my thoughts on those who were resisting, everyone agreed with my conclusion. They are to become our food source. The rest of our brave people, those who know what they have to do to live, will be rewarded by being taken out of the lottery and we will draw the name from the cowards in the paddocks. We will feed them what we can find that they will eat. After all, we don't want them to die before we are ready to consume them. That would be a waste of a valuable resource.

     We were lucky that Wendy was such a well proportioned lady, it made it so she was the only one of our brave people who had to die to keep the rest of us alive. Now, we will slaughter our food from people who are still trying to live in the past. This is the new way! The only way! Those asshole soldiers never made it back with supplies, they failed and everyone has to accept it. If we want to live, we have to go down this dark road. But we will do it with our eyes open and know that we have chosen to live and survive, no matter what!

 The cowards just cry and make noises about their rights and the law. Well, I am the law! They will accept my laws, or they will be cattle. I will be magnanimous and will ask one last time if anyone wants to join my people, but if they refuse, they will be nothing but food. We will have to reinforce the paddocks to hold our cattle safely, but we have the ability to do so.
     I wish they would shut up for just a couple of minutes. What are they so upset about? They are still alive and I might decide to keep a couple of them around to serve us. Why should we have to do the work when we have others who are below us in the pecking order. Maybe, if they willingly serve the rest of us, we will keep them around for longer. If they serve, they can have their name taken out of the lottery, at least temporarily. See, I can be forgiving. I will bring this up in the morning tomorrow with our captives. I think it is the best use of what we have on hand and it might just make some of our food shut up, for now. And my people will not have to do the jobs that no one wants to do. It makes perfect sense.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Charlie Fast Fingers Pearson, April 5

April 5, 2017
 
     I think I need clean undershorts. We landed at a small airport on the East Coast. I have no idea which one, but it was dark by the time we made it to the tarmac. We had to circle above the airport a couple of times to make sure what we would be facing once on the ground.  From the air, it looked like we would have to face around 25 undead freaks and the closest we would be able to get to the refueling truck would be around 50 feet from it. That means that someone would have to bring the truck to the plane. Well, shit.

     Turns out that one of the little minions following Will around used to drive a truck while in school, so Shane was going to be the one to run for the truck. Two of our crew, Buck and Dave, decided to go with him to protect him while he tries for the truck since three had a better chance than one. The most of the rest of us were going to spread our around our plane and take on the rest of the zombies. Hopefully, working together we would be able to refuel the plane and get ready to take off again.
     We were all armed with our make shift weapons and the sprint team was standing right behind the people going out in the lead. Meg and Shannon were on the door and were going to close it once everyone else was out, then they would be ready to open them again for our return.
     I love it when a plan comes together. We all did out part, and besides feeling like I shit my pants, everyone made it through without getting hurt. Turned out there was a fence we could not see from the sky and it was keeping most of the freaks back from our stopping point after we landed. We were able to take a lot of them out without any real risk to us. It was a chain link fence and we used our tools to take them out through the fence. It was open at one end so that is where we place most of our people and the sprint team readied themselves to go. We cleared a opening for them and they ran for all they were worth. The rest of us made as much noise as possible to keep as many undead with us and kept taking them out when able. The guys made it to the truck and were able to climb inside before their zombies could get to them.
     That is when the ones from inside the small terminal broke out through the windows. There were at least 30 of them and we knew it was all a race between us and them. Most of the undead were clumbsy and fell out where the windows used to be. Then they had another one fall on top of them. It took a while for the horde to right itself and by then, the truck was  back in our small fenced area.  Matt and Terry, other members of our crew, ran to help the guys with refueling the plane and Jason came out the door being opened by the women. Between them, the plane was refuel while the rest of us held back the few zombies left from the outside horde. We were holding our own, but I knew it would get touchy once the terminal zombies reached our line. The first undead in their group were just at our line when we heard Jason calling us back to the plane. I had agreed to be one of the people who held the line while others started back. I was so scared with so many of them stumbling towards and I was thankful when the call came for us to start back.
     It was fight but we all made it back to the door and inside the plane. Mark was ready and started the engines as soon as the door was secured. We rushed to our seats and prepared fr take off. It was bumpy, running over the undead between us and safety, but we made it into the air and out of the United States. And that is when the fighting began again.  Where were we headed? What would be the safest place to try to land? Should we aim for an island or for Britain? Or should we try for the European continent?
     Right now, the majority are seeming to lean towards trying for an island. There will be less people to become infected and hopefully, we can find one with a place clear enough to land.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

From the journal of Charlie Fast Fingers Pearson, April 4

April 4, 2017

     We made it to the plane. Well, not all of us but most of us. First light came and everyone got as ready as we could. I had made a weapon our of a piece of one of the shelves and almost everyone else had done the same in some way. We must have looked fucking funny to anyone who could see us. Sharpened pieces of wood, pieces of the metal pipe from the bar to swing like clubs. Our back up singers, Cindy, Shelly, and Tracey had even pried a chair apart and were carrying the legs like baseball bats. Anything that might be useful was taken and we were ready to go.
     Mark "The Shark" and Willey "The Wailer" went out first and closed the door behind them as quietly as possible. The zombies were about 25 feet from the door while the luggage cart was only about five feet away. They made it to the cart and started it up and the sound the engine made turned all of the undead towards them. They took off away from the plane going around 20 feet and then slowing down to make sure the zombies were following them. Once the runway was mostly clear between us and the plane, we filed out the door with Meg and Shannon working together to make the cart roll straight. They were supposed to be our flight attendants on the trip with Amy so they had experience handling the wonky wheeled art. It is kind of fucking amazing how we used to be a band, a manager and CEO's with roadies, a crew and some people who were going to be our flight crew for the one flight, but now we were a team working together to try to survive. Go fucking team!
     The few zombies who had not gone for the cart had to be taken care of by us on the way to the plane. We lost 3 people who were part of the team chosen to attack them. Alex, Tammy and Max were part of our sound crew and they became zombie snacks, which in a sick and twisted way, still distracted the undead freaks from the rest of us. Of the 35 of us who started out together that morning, 30 of us made it to the plane. We scurried on board, closed the door, and scrambled to the windows to look for Mark "The Shark" and Willey "The Wailer" .

     The luggage cart was still going, but only Willey "The Wailer" was still on it. The cart was not very fast and some of the undead group following them had pulled Mark "The Shark" out of his seat and he was being ripped apart on the runway. Willey "The Wailer" was panicing because there had been way more than the 50 we could see. There had to be at least a hundred zombies that were out of sight from our window and he was completely surrounded. There was nothing we could do for him and he knew it. Those two were some of the bravest men I have ever known.
     Some of the freaks who saw us boarding the plane had followed us up the stairs and were starting to draw more undead by banging on the door. Mark and Jason headed for the cockpit right away and were running down their pre-flight check list before we had even seen what happened to our friends in the luggage cart. Willey "The Wailer" started living up to his nickname and was yelling at the zombies around him to stay back which was doing about as much good as could be expected. We all knew when they got him because he screamed and shrieked until the sound of the engines starting blocked it out. We were taking off with no idea of where we were headed. I guess that's really flying by the fucking seat of your pants.
     Now we are arguing about where to go and it sounds like we will head for a smaller airport on the East Coast to refuel before trying to make it to mainland Europe. Crazy plan, but at least it's a plan. Now, if only the pilots can agree on which airport to stop and refuel at. What a fucking day. I hope that our friends don't come back as those things, but there is no way we could stop it from happening.It's sick, but I almost hope the zombies eat too much of them for them to come back. Rest in peace my friends and thank you for your sacrifice.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.

   

From the journal of Charlie Fast Fingers Pearson, April 3

April 3, 2017

     We have decided to try for the plane. The doors are finally starting to buckle so we really have no choice. Mark "The Shark" Willis, Micks roadie, and Willey "The Wailer" Tamper, our head of sound are going to try for one of the carts to distract the zombies on the runway. They are just wandering around like they are sleep walking, unless they see or hear something. A bird landed on the runway yesterday and you would have thought it was Jesus or something. All the zombies near it lurched right for it and all the ones farther away turned to start in that direction. When the bird flew away, the zombies just walked around where the bird had been like they were confused and smacked into each other. It gave us the idea for trying a distraction and everyone looked around in the VIP room and out the window to see what was available. There is a luggage cart right outside our private exit and "The Shark" and "The Wailer" volunteered.

     Marty and Will had us all load up any food or drink that we have left on the only thing we could find, an airplane food cart. There isn't much, but we know we will need everything if we are going to live. We have the cart by the exit and have pushed more couches up against the inside door. The plan is to leave tomorrow morning at first light. I don't know if it because the air is a little cooler at night, but the zombies seem to move a little slower until the sun warms them up a bit. We are going to try to use this to our advantage. I just hope the fucking door holds until then. If not, we moved the rest of the couches and chairs as close to our exit door as we can. I also suggested that we push the bookshelves on their sides and make a barrier between the door being pounded on and the one we were going to leave by. The shelves are pretty big and heavy and made from real wood. It isn't much, but the freaks would have to push through it and that might give us a few more seconds to get out. If the door to the terminal does cave, we will need every second we can get.
     There is no real plan for what to do after we get to the plane. Our pilots think we should take off but it sounds crazy to me. Yes, the plane was ready to fly when we got stuck here, but none of us knew what condition it was in now. Besides, where will we go? If everywhere is infected like here, there is no fucking place to go. Marty thinks we should head to Europe, but that means stopping to refill the fuel somewhere on the east coast and who knows what the situation is there.
     Will says we should fly to the middle of the U.S. He says Colorado has some underground place where the government and military are going to make their base in case of something like this. Of course, all his flunkies agreed with him and nodded like bobble head figures. There was even the suggestion to head for Washington D.C. to see if there is anything left there, but again, why? If they were infected there too, there is no point. I don't know what we should do, but staying here is not going to be safe for much longer.
     I guess we will just have to go one step at a time and not worry about anything except getting to the plane. We know there is more food, drinks and even some coke already stocked and waiting for us on the plane. After all, we were going to party on our way to the first European tour for Fox Force Five because that is what fucking rock stars are supposed to fucking do. I just wish we had some quiet tonight so we could really sleep tonight. We are going to need all the rest we can get because tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day.

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