From the journal of Charlie Fast Fingers Pearson, May 7

May 7, 2017

We made it at least a quarter of the way down the mountain today.  Yesterday, the guys made a really awesome sled/sling. It takes at least two people, and it's better with four, but Melanie is not being dragged across the ground, hitting every bump. They tried it out, with her in it, last evening and it was so much better for her and we will be able to move down the mountain faster. Now, it looks like Buck and I will be setting the pace. The day and a half of rest really made my leg stop hurting as bad. But Buck is still having trouble breathing and he moves slower than any of us want to go. If he could sit back and be pulled, or carried, then it would be better for the rest of us, but he has a worse time breathing when he lays down. Hopefully, he can pick up his pace a little bit.
Terry and Martin spent yesterday collecting as much to eat as possible. We don't know if the natives planted fruit or vegetables between us and their village. We've had to plan for there not being anything for us to eat until we make it all the way down the mountain. And then, we don't know if there is any food that hasn't spoiled in the village. For all we know, they might have killed and eaten all their livestock and birds when the entire village turned into zombies. That would be our luck.
So far, we have seen the trees change from the high mountain fruit trees and large ferns to smaller trees that have nothing to eat and more small bushes and moss like plants. I wonder how much more the plants and trees are going to change when we get all the way to shore. We are all assuming that is where the village is going to be and fish was probably one of the main foods the natives ate. We might get lucky and find a boat that's able to be sailed on the ocean. Maybe we can sail to somewhere else, maybe even back to the fucking States, and escape this island.

Most islands have a limited supply of food on them and then people have to either bring in more food or fish or something. This place, wherever it is, probably hasn't had any food brought in since the pandemic started, and the people turned a while ago, so no one has been fishing. I just hope they have dry goods, like grains or flour, and then we can make something to eat. It might be the simplist bread and might not even taste good, but it will be filling and it won't be fruit.
Looks like almost everyone is ready to go. Some of the guys are getting Melanie in her rig and it looks like Marty cleaned up a walking stick for Buck. Maybe leaning on a stick will take some of the pressure off his ribs.
Here we go. We'll be coming down the mountain when we come. Here's hoping there aren't a bunch of undead natives waiting for us farther down the mountain.

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