From the journal of Charlie Fast Fingers Pearson, April 27

April 27, 2017

     We woke up this morning on the eighth day since the scouting party had left to drizzle and mist. Everyone pitched in and we had breakfast gathered and prepared in a short time and had just sat down to enjoy our tropical fruit salad when we heard loud running through the forest. I jumped up and was trying to figure out which way it was coming from when I heard Sally start yelling for us to run and crawl up into the cockpit or other parts of the remains of the plane. Then I heard Marty yelling "Zombies!" over and over. We all jumped up and started for the crash site.

     Some of us headed for the cockpit and some for went for what was left of the passenger area. It's a climb to get into either, so I was hoping we would be safe from the undead. It was really fucking painful for me to get up into the cockpit, but it was life or death, so I did it and dragged Melanie up after me. It was probably as painful for her as it was for me, but it had to be done.
     When I was up out of reach of undead hands, I looked around and saw that everyone who had stayed behind was up in a piece of the crashed plane. Sally, Marty, Terry and Frank plowed through the edge of the clearing and kept running towards the pieces of the plane. I have never seen Marty move that fast, not even when he brought us the recording contract to sign. I didn't think he had it in him, but wow, can he move when his life in danger.

     It only took about 30 seconds for the undead to appear behind them. They were obviously the local islanders and they were obviously undead. Men, women and children stumbling along behind our people wearing sarongs and no shoes. Some of them were not looking so bad, but most of them had chunks missing and skin hanging from bites. Three of them were missing arms and one was crawling on the ground, missing both legs from the knees down.  They were making that weird growling, moaning, animal sound and reaching out, like they showed in the movies. It was almost funny, if they hadn't wanted  wanting to fucking eat us!
     The scouting party made it safely off the ground and into the cockpit with us. We had no guns, only make-shift weapons and no idea of what to do next. The food and water is down by the fire and our blankets and other clothes are there, too. It is going to get cold tonight and we are all going to get hungry fast. But it's the water that is the fucking kicker. Without it, we won't last three days and whoever dies first will turn, if no one takes care of it, and we will all be almost dead ourselves. Who is going to be able to do anything at that point but fucking die!
     We have been yelling back and forth to the passenger area, yelling out ideas and then fucking arguing about them. We might make a decision sometime next month at this rate. We have been at it for at least four hours and I am so fucking tired of it already. We have to figure out how to take out the undead islanders and we need to do it soon. It was warm now, but the afternoon rain hasn't hit yet. Once we are all damp, the temperature will start to drop and there is no fucking chance of getting all dry by dark without the heat from the fire. And without the added clothes and blankets, it will be a very fucking cold and very fucking miserable night.

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