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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