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.