From the journal of Charlie Fast Fingers Pearson, June 20

June 20, 2017

     We've been having surprise fucking visitors from the sea. I'm guessing the cruise ship crashed somewhere close to our island and the undead passengers have been falling into the ocean. I was wondering if zombies need to breath and now we have the answer. No fucking way. They walk along the bottom of the ocean and right up onto our beach. We finally had a meeting on the third day in a row that some undead freak surprised us and we've put up a fence of spears along the beach. It was a lot of work for us to cut out the larger branches of the trees and sharpen them. Then getting them to stick in the beach, with rocks, at the right angle so any undead stumbling out of the waves gets speared and held in place.

     We've been collecting the undead every day since. So far, over 30 of them have walked onto our beach and we've been working on making a fence all the way around our village. Until we do, everyone has been taking turns on watch duty. At night, we have two people patrolling the unprotected sides of the village. Any undead that we catch are put down and then we burn them in the cemetery. The pile of ashes is getting pretty large at this point and we're going to have to either bury them or spread them around the cemetery ground.

     There's not much to do around here, so the zombies coming out of the ocean are providing at least , a little entertainment. I've gotten in the habit of looking at all of them and wondering what their life was like before all this shit happened. One of the first female zombies to get stuck in our spear fence was dressed in a wedding dress, torn, bloody and soaking wet. Was she getting ready on the ship when the shit hit the fan? Was the wedding already over? Was it at the reception that everything went to hell? I spent way too much time thinking about it.

     And then the next one came out of the ocean. It was a guy, dressed in a bathing suit, with a hollow abdomen. The spear had slipped right between a couple of his ribs and his spine was shining in the sunlight. He had been young when he got on the ship, in his early to mid 20's. Was he having a good day, drinking and having a good time? Was he in the pool or sunbathing when he was attacked? The zombie after that was a woman in a bathing suit and I wondered if the two of them were a couple or if they even knew each other at all? I made up a story for them in my head. They were young professionals, hip and rich. The cruise was their first vacation in a few years and they were determined to enjoy every minute of it, eating, drinking and gambling. They went to the pool that last day with only thoughts of relaxing in the sun and having a good time. Little did they know.

     I find myself making up fantasies about the zombies and have matched some of them up in my mind, like the bathing suit couple. We had one guy show up in a casual suit and I made him the groom in my mind since he was the only guy that showed up in more than shorts and a tee shirt. One day, two old people walked up the road from the garden, so close together, they were almost holding hands. We took them out and while I was helping drag their now lifeless bodies to the cemetery, I made up a fantasy about them being a married couple of 50 years. I made up an entire family for them and a back story.

     I talked about how I thought I was going crazy by making shit up about the undead with Mick, Frank and Dave, and found out that I'm not the only one. It started a whole fucking discussion and by the time dinner was over, almost everyone had contributed a thought, story or fantasy about one of the washed up undead. It was funny and gross and we all laughed and talked until late in the night. It was good to know I'm not the only one losing his mind and day dreaming about the zombies. But really, what else is there to do on this island? Not much.

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 John Archer, the Archivist, July 3

July 3, 2017

     It's been a really odd and stressful few days. Over the last two weeks, we've had 13 people make their way to Aspen, in ones and twos. We had to have a meeting on June 22 on how to handle people coming in. Some of our group didn't want to let anyone else in, but most of us realize that we have to let in others. We just have to figure out how we are going to do this. We need a set process with a group of questions and we need to have a committee to make the decisions regarding candidates.

     In order for our community to keep moving forward and growing, we need to have more people. We're already talking about incorporating another line of wall that will include the entire street, all 14 houses with their large yards. Once the wall is built, we'll take down some of the fences and use the land between the houses to plant additional food crops. Plus, we can spread some of our current people out and have a little more room. We've been pretty crowded at times and only have the room we have now because of the trailers and RV's. But they were always supposed to be temporary, so the construction crew are going to meet and figure out what they'll need in supplies, additional manpower and time, to built the new wall. It's going to be a huge undertaking and I just don't know if we really have the people we need to build such a long wall.

     Thankfully, the 13 people who've shown up all seem to be good people and we used them to solidify the process for vetting new people. Linda, Aaron, Gary, Steve, Williams and myself are the ones chosen to be the committee for new people. We now have 20 questions we ask and we tape the answers so we can review the answers while discussing each persons possible inclusion in our group. All of the belongings of each candidate are also gone through. Any notes, journals or other writings are read. Then, the people we accept are put on a probationary period and are given a job.

     Everyone here helps out in some way. Most of us have jobs assigned and a sentry or patrol duty as well. We need a lot of help in the garden with the crops and vegetables, as well as on the construction crew. We have a rotating schedule for sentry duty and patrols around our compound and everyone has to take a turn. We put the new people with some of our more practiced people and teach them what to do. Some of the mothers are on house duty. Some days, they take a turn helping out with the children after school hours, or helping clean up the kitchen or rest of the communal parts of the house. Other days, they're doing laundry. They are a great group of women and we would all apart without them. They make sure we're all taken care of and have a clean place to eat and sleep.

     Other possible jobs are in the garden, the kitchen, or on the construction crew. We have people who concentrate on scavenging missions and we have a small group that runs our school for the children. Dr. Ben Carol S. and Kim are our main medical personnel, but anyone with training can be called on to help out when needed.

     Besides interviewing new people with the committee, meetings of the ruling council, and my sentry or patrol duties, I've also been asking everyone for their journals, letters or other written accounts of their experience since the pandemic started. Everyone is also bringing me all of the written items they find out on missions. I'm starting an archive, of a sort, of experiences from regular people. I'm sure that somewhere, someone collected the thoughts and writings of our leaders before civilization stopped. I'm more interested in what all of us normal people, you know, the button pushers and stay at home moms, experienced. I'm excited to read every journal, whether I now the person or not. My heart breaks for the ones where we know no one was alive when it was found. I've cried while reading the suicide letters and been heart sick when I read about parents killing their children then themselves. But I'm determined to get as many perspectives of the breakdown of civilization.

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 Manny Stone, June 24

June 24, 2017

     We left this morning to scavenge the little town we found ourselves in. I made sure to read the journal to everyone and we all agreed it would be safer to take the truck. That way, if we did run into a group of undead, we could get away easier. It's a good thing we did! I know I said we avoid downtown, but I just had to see if the whole town was down there.

     We pulled the truck into the alley behind the buildings on the main street and found a business with an unlocked back door. From there, we made our way to the roof and looked over the edge carefully. Sure enough, it looked like the whole town was down there, undead and waiting for something to stimulate them and bring them back to un-life. There had to be around 40-50 of them and all of them were in that weird, hibernating state we've seen a couple of times. From what I've gathered, if there is nothing around to smell, see or hear that they want to eat, they hibernate. They stand there, swaying slightly, and sometimes, they slowly walk around in circles. Now, if they get stimulated, all of the ones near will snap out of it and start that moaning and growling thing they do. Then, they all move toward whatever got their attention, usually something alive.

     The others decided to go see if they could get into any other back doors of the businesses and scavenge what they could. I stayed to keep watch so if the undead below started to notice my people, I could let them know with the walkie-talkie. We agreed on a signal of me clicking the button three times in a row. On their end, they would hear static three times and know to get out the back into the alley right away. When the others had headed down, I watched the undead below.

     This is the best chance I've had to observe the hibernating state and it's fascinating! Some of them milled back and forth across the street, like they were window shopping in the stores on either side. They didn't change direction or head further down the street, just slowly back and forth. Others just stood and swayed in a circle slowly, while others formed little mosh pits and slowly moved in a circle together. I watched on of them start. One zombie went from slowly swaying in a circle, to moving forward and still going in a slow circle. Then, a couple of zombies right next to it joined it in going in a circle and within five minutes, there were at least 10 of them moving in a circle. From above, it looked like the eye of a hurricane with the rest of the undead either going around them, ambling by them and a couple of them, even joined the circle.

     Then, a dog barked down the street somewhere to the left. It was like someone threw an electric switch. All the undead raised their heads and their eyes lit with an unholy light. Then, the sound started. The ones nearest the where the dog barked started first, and it moved like a wave from that end of the street, past where I was watching, and down the other way. All the undead started moving together, heading towards the sound they'd heard and the street emptied in less than ten minutes.

     I used the walkie-talkie to let the others know what had happened, but waited until the undead were all our of range, first. They told me what building they were in and I joined them to scavenge the rest of the businesses on the street. Then we headed back to our little gingerbread house. We didn't see any undead on the way.

     Tomorrow we had planned to head out, but I think we're going to stay here for a couple of days. We haven't even looked in the other houses yet and this was an upscale town. They must have good stuff. We'll look around here a couple more days, then head out again. Hopefully, we can stay away from the mob of undead towns people while we're here.

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 Manny Stone, June 23

June 23, 2017

     We pulled into this little town yesterday and it was really “cute”, as the girls called it. We turned off on one of the first side streets and made our way to a house that looked fairly secure. We've learned to not go downtown anywhere, since that seems to be the place that most people and zombies congregate, and by avoiding it, we save ourselves a lot of work. Whether it's killing the zombies or out running the live people with bad intentions, it's still work.

     We found this little gingerbread house that was behind a big wrought iron fence and made it our temporary home. When we went inside, as a team, to clear the house, we found it empty and it was a relief. After we cleared the house, we all chose rooms to sleep in and put our stuff in them, before preparing a meal. I was given the master bedroom and in the bathroom, on the counter, I found a journal that was pretty short.

     In the journal, the person who used to live in this house had written about themselves and some of their neighbors. There's only one entry, so I read it to see if I could figure out what happened.

“March 3, 2017

My name is Sally Stephens and I've lived in this town my whole life and am amazed that we haven't had more happen in here since the pandemic started. All of my neighbors are still living and we've been helping each other stay that way. Mrs. Duchovny, in the house on my right, and I have been trading canned goods back and forth so we both still have variety. Mr. Brown, in the house on the left, has been doing a patrol every two hours around our neighborhood, to make sure we're all safe.

Everyone has gotten together for meetings at the community center and we've set up a call tree, using walkie-talkies, for if something happens. That way, everyone can be notified within ten minutes. We did a run through and timed it last week, just to be sure.

The ladies auxillary club has been spreading out their preserved foods to all the towns people and baking bread for everyone. The Shriners have been checking on all the elderly in our town, and making sure they have enough food.

We have always been a close town, and this has only brought us closer.

Wait, there' a weird noise coming from outside. Kinda like a moaning movie ghost mixed with a rabid dog. I better go check it out. Be right back.”

     That's the end of the journal. I'm pretty sure it was the undead. That's a sound we've all become familiar with since the dead started to rise. I hope when we go scavenging tomorrow that we don't find the whole town undead and hungry. We better go really well armed and maybe we should take the truck instead of going on foot. I better mention the journal entry and talk to the others before we go. Better to be safe than sorry.

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 Kelly Vargas, June 25

June 25, 2017

     We've spent the last few days learning how to fight and defend ourselves. We started with hand to hand combat techniques. Manny taught us things like how to do the eye gouge, the throat punch and the axe kick. It was fun at first, but I was quickly covered in sweat and barely able to breath. It's hard work learning the moves and I was so sore the next day and still am today. But that hasn't stopped me for doing the lessons every day. I need to learn how to protect myself and not only from zombies.

     After that, Manny started showing us all how to us knives and blunt objects to take out undead. It's hard work and not anything like in the movies. They always show the knife going through the skull like its a melon, but the skull is hard and it takes a lot of pressure to get a blade through it. We worked on the techniques for a day and a half, then Manny brought us to a place with a few undead and secured them so we could learn without getting bit. It took a few tried to get the blade in in one try. Manny just kept bringing us a few undead at a time until we'd all gotten it.

     Firearms are interesting. I like the lower caliber guns better, like the .22 and the .9 mm pistols. They fit better in my hand and I'm able to control the recoil better than on the hunting rifle, like the .30-06. Turns out, I'm a pretty good shot! We have to go pretty far from where we're staying, since the noise draws the undead, but we have a pretty good place to practice. We made some paper targets, got some stuff to shoot, like bowling pens and dolls and stuff. I like the time we spend shooting at the targets, but when we moved on to zombies, it wasn't as easy.

     Targets don't have faces and I don't wonder who they'd been before all this started. Were they a mother? Father? Husband? Wife? Teacher? Banker? Did they have a family or live alone? What did they do for fun? Did they like to read or watch movies? Did they have pets? Play an instrument?

Alicia says I have too much of an imagination and need to not think about the undead like they're people. She says they might've used to be people, but now, their just mindless undead people eaters. I know she's right, but I still find myself wondering sometimes. Not with every zombies I take out, but some of them.

     I took out this female zombie yesterday and she was dressed in what probably was a beautiful dress when she first put it on. It was purple and had little flowers and it had a high waist-line. Now, it was a dirty mess with thick, chunky, black bloody bits down the front of it and several tears and part of the attached slip torn and hanging at the back of her legs. She was wearing a wedding ring and had bleached blonde hair. I started to wonder if she had been a housewife or if she was dressed up for a job? Then I wondered if her husband was still alive or if he was part of the wandering undead?

     That's where I stopped myself and made myself think about something else, anything else, as I took her and several others with her out. I think of it as putting them out of their misery. I know I would want someone to do the same for me if I had turned. And now that I know how to use the firearms and knives, I feel better able to keep our group safe. I feel like I'm better prepared to be in this new world, where people are just as dangerous, if not more so, than the undead.

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 letter from Hope Lincoln, June 9

From a letter found in Aspen duing a scavenging mission. The letter was written by Hope Lincoln, a very weatlthy housewife living in the upscale Aspen area with her husband and four children.

June 9, 2017

To whoever finds this letter:

     Why, oh why, did I not pay more attention to all the reports around the country? My name is Hope Lincoln and I know what I was thinking. Nothing like that can happen to us in Aspen. Like we were better than the people who lived in other places. Like our money would shield us from whatever causes the dead to come back. Like there was a force field, or something, that would keep any infected or undead out. I was such an idiot and it's cost me everything.

     The news started reporting about the pandemic in January, but it was in California, not Colorado. As the days went on, reports were coming in or it spreading and spreading fast. There was speculation that it was in everything from fresh fruits and vegetable to being in the water supply. It wasn't until the TV went off that it started to sink in that this was serious.

     By then, Andy, my husband, had already made a couple of Costco trips and we were stocked up on canned and dehydrated foods, as well as condiments, spices, and bottled waters. A month ago, I sent him back for another trip and told him to stop at the sporting goods store and get more ammo for our firearms. Before he left, I gave him a list that included sleeping bags, camping gear, flashlights and water purifying tablets. He was gone for two days.

     I was frantic and scared and didn't know what to do. So, I just kept to the kids schedule and acted like there was nothing wrong. I know they didn't believe me, they were all acting out because of the tension. The four of them are usually so good, but Ellen, our oldest and just barely 11, threw a fit worthy of any teenager because she couldn't go online. Alice and Alexander, our 8 year old twins both refused to go to bed that first night and threw a fit in harmony, which drew our 6 year old, Jessa, into the fray. She started crying loudly and trying to climb up my body. I had to pick her up, which is not something she asks for anymore.

     When I saw our Highlander pull into the driveway, I rushed to get outside and see Andy, practically pushing my kids out of the way to get there. He looked like he'd been run over or trampled or something. His clothes were torn, dirty and smelled horrible. He was pale and shaking and fell into my arms as soon as I got close enough. He was exhausted and told me that Costco was ok. People were rude and in a hurry, but still acting mostly human as they scurried around for their supplies.

     It was at the sporting goods store that it went off the rails. While he was there, people at the front of the store started shooting at something, which turned out to be a group of ten undead. What no one knew was there were others all around the store and they had gotten in through a back door as well. Andy ended up having to fight, with everyone else in the store, just to live through it. But he got bit in the process and barely made it home.

     I know now that we should've talked about it and made a different decision. We should've said our goodbyes and then Andy should've killed himself. Or I should've killed him. Either way, I never should've taken him upstairs and tried to nurse him back to health. He turned two days later and killed Alexander and Ellen right away, tore out their throats and took chunks out of them. Alice and Jessa ran screaming for me and I lost it. I had started carrying the pistol I owned in a holster the day Andy came home and I used it to take out his brain. Then, I sat on the floor with my dead children and lost my mind for a few minutes while holding my live daughters.

     It was probably only an hour or so before Alexander and Ellen started to twitch and come back. Alice thought her twin was still alive and before I could stop them, both girls had hugged him and gotten bit. God forgive me, I had to shoot my babies in the head! All of them! I took care of Alexander and Ellen right away. I almost died of heartache right then, but I comforted them and hugged them. I told them we were going to pray and had them get on their knees in front of me. Then, I shot Alice and Jessa in their heads. Bang! Bang!

     I can't do this anymore. I can't live with having to kill all of my kids and my husband. I just wanted to let whoever finds us know, I didn't go crazy and just kill my family. I had to.

     God, please have mercy on my Andy and my babies. And if you have any love for me as well, please forgive me for what I have done and what I am going to do.

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, June 13

June 13, 2017

     Shelbyville is still on our minds. I've had nightmares every night since and I know Jackie and Rebecca have been having them, too. The three of us have talked about it when no one else is around because some things you have to get out of your head by talking about it. It helps a little, but time is really going to be the only thing that helps us to move on.

     Today, I think we found some victims of the stadium zombies. It was the biker group and they were setting up an ambush to find more women and supplies. We would've run right into them if the undead hadn't run into them first. I only know it was the bikers because of the bikes and RV's. The pieces that were left just wouldn't have been enough to identify them without the bikes. The bits looked like leather covered raw steak or roast. There really wasn't much left since there were so many of the undead and not that many bikers.

     The road was littered with bikes, like a giant had tossed them around. Some of the guys must've tried to get away on their bikes, but there really wasn't a chance once the horde was on them. The asphalt was reddish brown and sticky when we walked around. Again, it was Rebecca, Jackie and I doing the investigating. We searched around the bikes and the remains, taking the stuff that wasn't too gory. Most of the bikers had bags on their bikes and they had some good stuff in them. Also, some crap and gross stuff, but ammo, candy, alcohol and snack food topped the list of what we found.

     The RV's had some better stuff, more canned food and bottled water. The clothes and blankets were covered in blood and bits, so they weren't good anymore. We took all the cans and bottles out to the road by our vehicle and used some of our water to clean them up. Then we packed up what we had and pushed the bikes off the road enough to get the RV through. This is going to be another bad memory to add to my growing list of choices for my nightmares.

     I drove for a couple of hours after we passed that scene, wanting to put some distance between us and it, but not wanting to run into the tail end of the stadium zombies. Eventually, we found a farm house that was in reasonably good shape. It looked like it had been empty before the pandemic, so we hoped it wouldn't hold any horrors or undead. Thankfully, it was empty. Yeah, empty of everything. No furniture, nothing.

     Well, it might not be the most comfortable of places to sleep, anyone who wanted could still sleep in the RV. Although, it is really tight with everyone's stuff and our supplies. Only the bed in the back is clear and only so people driving can take a nap when someone takes over. Oh well, we've got a bunch of blankets and sleeping bags, we can make ourselves a little comfortable and spread out. After being cramped together in the RV, it'll be nice to stretch out.

     Dinner is going to have to be cooked in the RV and brought in here to be eaten. There's only a fireplace and I don't think it's safe to light a fire in it. Well, at least we've got plenty of food, mostly in cans, and plenty of water to drink. We're in a house and safe for the moment. More safe than we were before we saw what's left of the bikers. Now we don't have to worry about running into them. We just have to be careful not to run into the stadium horde.

     We're safe, warm and together. That's enough for now.

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, May 25

May 25, 2017

     We still haven't quite reached Buckner yet, we hope to get there tomorrow or possibly the day after. It's been really hard work clearing the old road and it hasn't gone very fast. I wish we had got more chainsaws, the one we did bring just isn't enough. Mom said the same thing and we started a list in a blank journal of things we need to bring for something like this next time. The list is getting pretty long, since we didn't plan on being out here for so long. If we hadn't found the hunting cabin with a bunch of canned goods, we would've run out of food days ago. We're just lucky we're in Alaska and there are streams and springs with fresh water so we've been able to refill our bottles and not run out of water.

     So far, this list has food, water, clothes, blankets, gas, chainsaws (multiple) as well as a couple of hand saws (just in case), more ammo, lighters and matches and medical supplies. We keep adding things to it as we think of them. The food and water were obvious choices. The ground on the old road is soggy and it's been raining a lot so I know we all wish we had clean, dry clothes, mostly socks! Also, we only have three sleeping bags for all of us and we've been having to share to stay warm.

     Now, the chainsaws come in handy, even just driving the main roads to town. No one is around anymore to take care of the ones that fall, so the road gets blocked a lot and if we didn't have gas, we could use the hand saws. We didn't bring a lot of ammo, since the objective was to quietly look around, and we've had to get closer to some of the wandering undead than we really like to get. Plus, the guys used some of what we had left to hunt us a deer to eat.

     Warmth, something I used to take for granted. Our lighters have slowly died or gotten drowned. Thank God I'd put that big box of matches in a sealed baggie and in the glove box of the truck. Otherwise, we'd have been really cold and really wet without fire to dry us out. Everyone had laughed when I put them in the truck, saying I was being paranoid, but no one is laughing now.

     Gas is becoming an issue. We found a couple cans of gas at the cabin with the food, and that's the only reason the chainsaw is still working. If we hadn't found that gas, we would've had to steal it from the gas tank and then the truck would've been empty by now. And without the chainsaw, we would've had to turn back because we wouldn't be able to clear the road. We would've been up a creek then, I don't know if there's enough gas to get back to town, let alone to somewhere we can find some gas.

     Like I already said, clearing the road is hard work and we've all gotten cuts and bumps and bruises. We only had a couple of band aides and one roll of gauze, but no tape. I have blisters on my blisters and could really use some band aides to cover them. Mom has a cut on her palm that we've had to cover with strips from the bottoms of our shirts. Everyone else has some kind of wound, too. Next time, we're going to bring a backpack of medical supplies, including a first aide kit and more. Next time, we'd be better prepared.

     Now, it's dinner time and then bed. Hopefully, we'll make it there tomorrow, or even close enough to walk to Buckner. We can always come at the old road from the other side after we rest.

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 Manny Stone, June 19

June 19, 2017

     We left the town where we were stuck in the attic and traveled for a week, only pausing to sleep and scavenge. We had decided to not stay in one place for long until we had traveled at least five days away from that evil group and found a place that we could secure.

     We woke up on the morning of the 18^th and talked about what we were looking for in a place to stop for a rest for several days. It had to be secure or at least able to be secured, at solid fence or wall around a house. It had to be out, away from any towns, we had learned our lesson at the Post Office. Towns are ok to scavenge in, but not to stop and stay in. It would be nice to have some space behind the wall or fence, I'd like to spend some time teaching the others how to defend themselves. They all need to know how to use the firearms we have on hand and also how to use some hand to hand techniques. I think they should learn some knife skills, too. I've already promised Kelly that I would teach her some survival skills, hopefully the others will be interested in learning, as well, without my having to make it mandatory.

     I've been collecting all the notes and letters we've found on the way and have put them in their own bag. They might be important one day. If society starts again, people might want to know what it was like for some of those who didn't make it. It might also be nice for there to eventually be a place where people can look for any information on their family members. If computers make a comeback, we can make a database. If we're lucky, others are also collecting the letters and notes they find and someone can start an archive of human experiences.

     Three of the notes I found were in one town where a large majority of the citizens decided the kill themselves. Every house we went in had at least one decomposed body with a hole in the head. The second house had a whole family, four generations, all shot in the head. From what it looked like, the father and grandfather made sure everyone else was taken care of, then they drank a bottle of 30 year old bourbon before shooting themselves in the head. The father, Gary Noble, left a note saying that “they had all talked about the new situation and decided to go to God clean, without being fouled by the undead. My mother, father, wife and children will not have to endure the evil stink of the undead or endure the diseased bite of those nefarious zombies. We will go to Heaven clean and baptized in the light of Gods grace.”

     That's so weird to me! Some people went to that religious place, all God's love and light and Heaven. While others go all evil and lose their humanity. The day after we left that little town, we found this secluded farm house where we were going to stay the night. But when we went inside, we found a scene that could've been in a horror movie. There was at least 6 dead girls in the upstairs bedrooms, all had been tied to their beds and been raped and tortured. Someone really had cared at the end though. All of them had been washed, dressed and covered. Plus, they'd been shot in the head, although from the looks of it, some of them were already dead and turned first. It brought back bad memories of the last time we'd found a house like that.

     Then we went in the basement. Downstairs, it was another horror scene. There was a line of eight men, undead and tied to chairs. They were naked and had obviously been tortured and possibly raped with a foreign object. On the opposite side of the basement, there were the bodies of four women, all sitting on a couch together and all had shot themselves in the head. One of them, Marci Albright, had left a note. In it she said “the four of them had freed themselves from their first floor bonds at night and had gotten the drop on the men who had been holding them, their sisters and daughters. Then, we did to them as they had done to us. Once we were done with them, we stabbed them in the chest and let them turn. While we were waiting for them to come back, we cared for our loved ones. My daughter, Mia, was already dead and had turned, tied to the bed where she'd been ravished. I cried while I shot her in the head, but I did it. Then I checked on my sister, Mary. She was barely alive and begged me to put her out of her misery. I layed in the bed with her and we cried and said our goodbyes. Then I kissed her cheek and did as she asked. Shelly's daughter was also dead and she took care of her. Alexi's sister, Margaret, was like my sister but Alexi couldn't shoot her sister. I helped Margaret and then comforted Alexi. Brenda had to take care of her both her daughters, Melody and Melanie. Then, we returned to the basement and checked on the men. Some of them had turned and we settled down on the couch to wait for the rest. Once all of them are zombies, all four of us will kill ourselves and join our families.”

     The last note was in a very small cottage we found down a really long driveway. In it, we found an elderly couple who had drank poison together, right back at the beginning. They were still sitting in their living room chairs, holding hands. The note they left was really sweet. It just talked about their life together and their children. They wrote about how much they loved them and how they hoped they were ok and surviving. It talked about how they loved each other and their lives and how they just couldn't see themselves being able to stay alive, so they were going to end it their way.

     Their way. How could it really be their way when lots of people were doing the same thing. What makes it so some people don't even want to try to stay alive, while others hang on for all it's worth? Who knows. All I know is that I'm going to keep doing what I can to keep myself and my little group alive.

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, May 29

May 29, 2017

     I am so lonely. It's been ten days since Michelle killed herself by walking out of the chapel and being eaten by the undead. Not the way I would want to go. But the day before she died, she wouldn't even acknowledge reality. I don't know if she even saw the undead, or felt what they did to her. She was just not there at all mentally and if she hadn't walked out there and died, she might have just given up and died in here.

     I don't know what to do anymore. Do I stay here by myself? I have enough food and water to live comfortably here for at least a year. But I think I'll go crazy here by myself eventually. But what else am I supposed to do? The undead in this fort keep going back over the walls, slowly, every day. It's still going to be months before enough of them are gone so I can sneak out and go over the wall myself. I don't know if I can keep my sanity that long.

     But, if I leave here, where am I supposed to go? The people who went to that hotel all died. I'm pretty sure the soldiers who went out from here looking for food are dead. I don't know if anyone out there is even alive! Should I try to get out of the city? Go through the walls where the zombies broke through? But then where do I go from there? I have no idea where to go, but I bet there's now more zombies in the city then outside the walls, so that seems like it would be the safer bet.

     I had no idea how this was going to play out, otherwise, I might have kept going and tried my luck out there. When the wall fell, I was swept up with some of the people running from the undead and just went with it, ending up here. I should've gone further, if I had kept going I could've stayed ahead of the zombies until I found a better place to survive. Instead, I came here, to the New Alamo. I can't believe I'm still alive. I've lived through running from the zombies, near starvation, being chosen as “cattle” and kept as food and almost being eaten. I survived the fall of this place, and when the others in the cattle pens were killed by the undead, I'd already been taken by Samuel. He put us in a room attached his and killed and ate one of us. Then, I killed him.

     Now, I'm alone and don't know what I'm supposed to do? I only have ten bullets for the revolver Samuel had. I've found a bunch of machetes and knives, so I can have my pick of them. I would need to find a way to get some of the food and water over the walls, and then I'll need to find transportation. If I remember correctly, there's still four Army vehicles right outside the walls. Supposedly, the keys are in all the ignitions. So, if I can get to one of them, I could drive it away. At least, that's the beginning of a plan.

     For now, I'm going to have to wait for the undead to thin out. I'm going to look around and see if there are some bags that I can pack some of the food and water into. Then, I can try to sneak them over the wall closest to the trucks and drop one or two a day until the majority of all the supplies are ready to throw into the trucks. I could pull one over to the bags and get them in the truck before leaving. I'll have to keep them light enough so I don't have to struggle to carry them. Wow, the ideas are coming now. I wonder what I can find. Hmmm....

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 Marie Costa, June 27

June 27, 2017

     It's been harder to deal with what we did than I thought it was going to be. We killed people. Yes, we had to do it to stay alive because they would've found us eventually. We caught their first scout, but we don't know if we would have been able to keep catching them. One would've made it back with information on us at some point, so we had to take them out.

     We did what had to be done, but when I close my eyes I, I see the faces of the people I shot. Well, the ones I could see, anyway. I shot at the RV's with everyone else, so I know I had to have killed some of those women and kids. I can see the faces of the women dead on the floor of the RV I went in. They were young and had probably been pretty before their were taken by those men.

     I spent last night wondering if I'm still a good person, or if what we did makes me evil. I'd always thought that there was nothing that could make me kill someone, anyone. But now, I know that I can do it and I have done it. I even helped torture a man to get information on the people we killed. I helped hold him down while Richard put needles under his nails, then ripped them off. I held him down while he was given hundreds of small cuts. I held Marco down while other things, things I won't write down because I want to forget them, were done to him. And then, we used that information to go kill his whole group. I helped shoot and kill them, lots of them. Was what we did evil but not us, because it was necessary for us to live? If those people had found us, they would have killed or men and enslaved our women. Does that mean what we did is OK?

     I know everyone who was there is having an issue with what we did. I hope that makes us good people, since it bothered us. The truck we brought all the supplies we got in town back in had just sat in the yard and no one had gone through it since we brought it back. Today, I went over, opened the back and started taking stuff out of the back. I separated the food, ammo and other stuff into piles and put the backpacks to the side to go through at the end. Others came over and started to help me unload the truck. It was a little therapeutic for me and I hope for the others, to get the truck cleaned out. Then I went back to the backpacks. The first one had ammo and a couple of pistol, the second one had clothes in it, and the third one had canned food in it. That's the one I found the letter in.

     I had to read it twice before it really sunk in. This letter was from one of the women in the RV. She wanted to die and would've been glad to know we killed her. Did that make what we did less evil? I had hoped that those men hadn't raped the kids, but knowing that they had, I would kill them all again in the blink of an eye. They weren't human anymore, they were animals. Rabid animals, that needed to be put out of their misery.

     From what Melanie had written, these men had already gone to the dark side way back at the beginning. They didn't even wait for everything to really fall apart before they starting killing and raping and doing whatever they wanted. Yeah, including raping kids if that's your thing. Sick bastards.

     I'm still bothered by what I did. But knowing more about their group from one of their victims viewpoints, well, it kinda makes it easier to deal with. Knowing I put the captive women out of their pain and misery. Well, at least the ones who hadn't started spying for the men. Those women should have suffered more for turning on other women in the same horrible situation as they were. They should have stuck together and helped each other, as much as possible, but instead, some of them spied on the others for a few creature comforts, an extra blanket or more clothes or food.As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments.

     Well, it's going to take me while to come to terms with everything that's happened. I know I'll have nightmares for a while, I already have, every night since the ambush. But that makes me feel like I'm still human and still a good person. I know now that I'll do anything to keep our group safe. And I'm going to be OK with it, at least, I hope I will be, someday.

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 letter from Melanie Melbourne, June 24

This letter was found in one of the backpacks from inside one of the RV's by Marie Costa following the ambush in front of the church. It was written by one of the captive females, Melanie Melbourne, who had stuck it in one of the pockets on the outside of the backpack which was full of canned goods, in case they had to leave the RV in a hurry.

June 24, 2017

If someone finds this letter,

     Please, oh please, let me be dead, really dead, and if not, please kill me. I have nothing to live for and everything to die for. I've been a captive of his group for months, since somewhere around March 3^rd. I have no idea where we were when you found this, but I was taken from Southern Arizona. If I could've found a way to kill myself by now, I would have. Being forced to cook three meals a day for the men who rape, beat and torture you will make you want to die!

     I was in a small town where I worked at the local veterinarian clinic as a receptionist. We had all heard about the dead coming back, but it was happening in other places, like California, not Arizona. Life just kept going on almost exactly like before, the only difference being the grocery store shelves were getting low and very little was being brought in to replace it. We just bought what we could still get and kept on going, going to work, going to bed, going on dates. We were living like the world hadn't changed and we could ignore what wasn't happening in our town.

     The the first small horde showed up. There were only 20 or less zombies, but for us, it was the end of our world. The group just went through and bit and killed and ate like 50 people. The men told us “little women” to stay back, but couldn't figure out how to kill the zombies, or at least stop them. It took way more for them to try to take out the undead than it should have, but we hadn't seen any of them before and no one wanted to listen to me that the movies always said you have to take out the brain. I ended up having to grab a bat and show them how to do it.

     After that, there was a run on the grocery store and the shelves were completely emptied in one day. We had no idea that the last truck to show up, a week ago, was the last truck ever. I had a pretty good stash of food already, my father always said be prepared. Then everyone stopped going to work and stopped leaving their homes. People I'd known for years were suddenly strangers who would kill me in a heartbeat for anything I had. I went to work the day after the horde, but the place was closed up and a sign in the window said it was closed until further notice. Nice that my boss thought to tell me!

     I stayed home and watched out my front windows for days. Three of my neighbors had been bit but not killed on the day the horde came through and I wanted to know what was going to happen. I saw some of the kids sitting outside together, not playing, but just sitting there for the first day. Then the parents called them inside and none of them came out again. The next day, I saw Mrs. Brown run to her can and leave. She was gone for an hour and came back, sobbing and shaking, covered in blood, carrying a grocery bag of what looked like bottles of medicine. No one else came outside that day in my neighborhood.

     The next day, the screaming started in the Brown house around 11 a.m. Then Mrs. Brown ran out of the house holding her four year old son, who was covered in blood and obviously hurt. Mr. Brown came shambling out of the house, headed right for his wife and son, but he wasn't really Mr. Brown anymore. Mrs. Brown screamed and her neighbor, an old man I never got to know, came out and shot Mr. Brown, walked up to the screaming woman, and shot the kid, too. He went back into his house like nothing had happened and Mrs. Brown just sat and rocked her sons body on her front lawn for hours. Finally, one of the other women went to her and took her away from the house. The next day, the same kind of scenario played out in all the houses where someone had been bit. It was obvious that if you got bit, you got sick, died and became on of the undead.

     It wasn't long before the men who held me captive pulled through our town. The day was like all the others, just me, in my house, watching out my windows. Then, I could hear a bunch of engines a couple streets over. I wondered who it was, but didn't do anything about finding out what was going on. I should have done something, anything, but I did nothing.

     The leader of the group they called the Devils ordered his men to kill the males and bring the females back to him to decide their fates. They swarmed through town like the zombie horde had just a few days before, but even more deadly and evil, with three times the number of zombies. Our town was small to begin with, but a lot of people had left in the days since the undead horde came through. Even so, there were still around 30 men from 13 years old to 92 years old, 10 boys younger than that, 20 women from 13 years old to 84, and 8 girls younger than that.

     The Devils went house to house, killing all the men and boys while grabbing the women and girls and taking them back to where their leader waited. It only took them a few hours and all of us were kneeling in the road with our hands tied behind our backs waiting to find out what was going to happen. Once the whole town had been gone through and all his men were back, their leader, a giant man named Harrison, started walking between the rows of women pointing at the women that were too old or hurt or sick and having them taken away. The rest of us, 13 women and the 8 girls, were taken to the RV's and forced inside. There were other women inside, all of them bruised and dirty. The men left us there, for the moment, and the women told us what was next. We would help to make lunch for the group in about a half hour. Then girls 10 and under would be left alone, for now, but anyone over the age of about 11 would be given to one or more of the men who had found us and brought us back to the group. T,hat day, hell began.

     Nothing has been ok ever since. Every day has the potential to be a horror. I've come to look forward to the days when we are still on the road and only the leaders get to enjoy what they call “female companionship”. I used to pray to be rescued or to escape but after a few weeks, I no longer believed in God, so what was the point.

     I've tried to kill myself several times, but it's almost impossible. The RV's are empty of anything sharp and there's nothing that can really be used to hang yourself. I know, I stripped my sleeping mat and tied the strips together and tried to hang myself, but the cloth just wasn't strong enough. Plus, if we're parked, someone checks on us every 10 minutes. When we're on the road, there are three of them in each RV, one driving and two watching us. I've thought about trying to make the driver crash the RV, but there's no guarantee any of us would die and I'd never make it past the two guards.

I even stole a knife at dinner once and was planning on slitting my wrists, but they found me and took the knife away. I was punished by being gang raped by all the leaders and a few of their friends. Yeah, really made me want to keep on living.

     I thought it couldn't get any worse, and then they started in on the younger kids. Over the weeks since they had taken us captive, we'd already lost three of the youngest ones. That left only five girls aged between 10 and 5 years old. The Devils took the 10 year old and “initiated” her one night when Harrison said he was tired of all the females available. Then he gave the 8 year old to his best friend as a gift for finding a crate of good bourbon. The twins and the 5 year old have so far been spared, but if I could get my hands on a gun, I would kill all of them and myself.

     I decided to write this letter and leave it in the backpack because I had a dream last night. I dreamed that we all died and it was wonderful. So, I'm going to try to escape again. I know what will happen if they catch me, but I have to try to get away and if I can't, I'm going to try to kill myself again. If I can get away, I'll try to find a gun and come back to kill as many of them as I can, before killing myself.

     If you find this, somehow, and I'm still alive, please, kill me. And if you can, please, kill the kids, too. No one deserves to live this way. No one.

     I hope you have been surviving with a better group and I hope someone kills all this sons of bitches someday.

Melanie Melbourne

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 Nikki Feather, June 26

June 26, 2017

     We've been driving for ten days, heading West and slightly South, heading for the foothills of the Rockies. We've passed through a bunch of small towns, all deserted like my home town after the horde came through. We don't stop downtown anywhere now. There could be hundreds in the shops and buildings and with only the two of us, we can't take the chance. It wouldn't even take hundreds, only a couple dozen, and we'd be screwed. Probably not even that many and we'd been in major trouble.  

     Jackson and I have taken to scavenging anytime we found a house or a couple of houses on their own. We'd found this farm house two days ago that was amazing. It looked like it should've been in a Norman Rockwell painting, like 100 years ago. Now, it could've stared in a horror movie all on it's own. We saw this driveway, heading towards what looked like a fruit orchard on the next hill over, so we turned down the driveway. After eating snack foods and canned foods for days, any kind of fruit would be welcome, and if we got lucky, they might've had a garden, too. I would've killed to have something green and fresh!

     The driveway had to be at least a mile long and when we got to the end, we found the house. It had been white at some point, but was a really dirty off white now. It was made of brick and had a couple of balconies on the side we approached from. The orchard surrounded the house and was probably planted when the house was built. It hadn't been taken care of in years, but there was some fruit. There were two apple trees with green apples on them. I know I'll get a stomach ache from eating them, but I picked some of them anyway. There were plums, cherries and peaches, too. They weren't fully ripe, but we picked some of each and put them in the truck, taking a couple inside with the rest of our supplies.

     It was late afternoon, so we decided to stay the night in the house. The inside was as creepy as the outside.It was mostly empty, but we did find a table with one chair. The walls were chipping with faded wall paper peeling from them. I bet we were breathing in all kinds of toxic stuff from the walls and possibly even the wall paper. In past centuries, lead and other poisons were used in paints and wall papers. Besides this possible danger, we secured the house and put up our low tech alarms, in case someone or something tried to get inside.

     We set ourselves up in what would've been the dining room, it had the most sturdy floor and the only pieces of furniture. I brought in the sleeping bags, all six of them. They were pretty comfortable with two under you and one to sleep in. Jackson brought in the food supplies and the small camp stove we had to heat up our food. We kept the supplies we took inside to a minimum so we could grab them in an emergency and run.

     I had found some old Stephen King books in a house we had searched and after eating, we took turns reading from them out loud. I really find it funny that before the dead started walking, I scared too easily to read horror novels. Now, the book was kind of tame compared to our reality. I did wonder, briefly, if the author was still alive, dead or wandering around as a zombie.

     When the sun stared to set, we got out one of our charged solar lights and turned it on low. They only last for a few hours when fully charged and once the light ran out, it was bed time. We have ten of them, but usually only turn one on a night. That way, if there's an emergency at night, we have nine fully charged lights to see by. We quietly read out loud to each other until the light dimmed, them got in bed. I can barely see to finish writing this and will have to give up for the night. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a good day. Fingers crossed.

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 Marie Costa, June 25

June 25, 2017

     Yesterday was really intense. We had been set up all night outside the church at the courthouse, in the building on the church grounds and on the rooftops of the neighboring buildings. We even had a couple of people on the ground floor of those buildings, in case one or more of their people tried to get inside to stop our people shooting at them. It was a cold, uncomfortable night for all of us. We stayed in our assigned spot, ate a cold dinner and waited.

     We didn't know if there would be a scout sent ahead of the group, so we all had to stay out of sight and quiet. That way, if one came, we could let them do their thing and return to the group, none the wiser about our ambush. The plan was to only take out the scout, if there was one, if they saw us or acted suspicious. We wanted them to think there was nothing going on and come to the church as they planned.

     That night, I thought about everything that had happened since this all started. I remembered our time in the cooler, cold the whole time. Kind of like what I was feeling while waiting for the ambush. I remembered sitting, huddled together for some warmth. I remembered how it felt to finally get out of the cooler and be able to warm up. Oh, how wonderful the canned foods tasted after weeks of only eating vegetables and fruits, with a little bit of cheese thrown in from the food I used to cut and make snack packs from.

     I thought about Jackie and Andrew and how I still regret leaving them behind. I remembered securing the store and then making the decision to go to the cabin. I curled up and thought about the time spent securing and improving the cabin and the area around it. I fell asleep thinking about what it could be in the future, years from now.

     When the sun started to come up, I spent some time sneaking from person to person, to make sure everyone was OK and had whatever they needed. I made sure to stay out of sight as much as possible and to move quickly when I had to move between buildings. I was back in my assigned spot within an hour and we continued to wait.

     Around mid-morning, we all heard the sound of a motorcycle engine. Sure enough, they'd sent a scout. He pulled up on his bike, all 300 pounds and dressed in leather from head to toe. His hair stuck up at all angles and it looked like he hadn't had a shower since this all started. He got off the bike, barely looked around and walked inside the church. He was only inside for a couple of minutes, then he got back on his bike and rumbled away. He's wasn't much of a scout.

     It was only two hours or so before we heard a bunch of vehicles coming. My hands started shaking and I had to take a few deep breathes to help calm myself down. I stayed low and listened to the sounds of the cars, trucks and RV's pulling up and parking between the courthouse and the church. The plan called for us to wait until their people were mostly out of the vehicles and then start shooting. We had barricaded the inside of the church doors, so they could't get in there and make a stand.

     The last engine turned off and we waited while the sounds of doors opening and closing started. People were starting to quietly talk as they headed for the doors to the church. The plan was that Richard and Brian were in positions where they could see the street below and once the time was right, they would start the shooting, the rest of us would follow.

     I know it was only a couple of minutes after the people down there started getting out of the cars, but it felt like hours before the first shot was fired. After that, I remember what happened in fits and starts, like a series of pictures and short videos in my mind. I remember standing up in a crouch, positioning my rifle to my shoulder and using the adobe balcony railing to lean on and aim. I shot and shot and shot, then reloaded and kept shooting. I saw the first guy I shot fall down, dead. I moved on and watched another man die. By then, they were trying to return fire, but we were in safer positions: behind the adobe balcony of the courthouse, in the little building, up on the roofs.

     Some of the men were pushing their women towards the church doors, but quickly found out they couldn't get inside. They were sitting ducks and were taken out until they were lying in a pile in front of the door and on the stairs leading up to them. Others from their group tried to get back in their vehicles or hide behind them. Once everyone in the open had been shot down, we turned to the next part of the plan and started to turn the vehicles into Swiss cheese. We had made sure to bring enough ammo to make sure that no one could survive in any of the cars, trucks or RV's.

     Once we turned the guns on the RV's, a couple of the women tried to make a run for it. They must've been some of the ones who were helping their captors, like Marco said. They had guns and tried to shot back. They were killed within five steps of the RV they came out of.

     The shooting went on and on. I must've reloaded at least ten times before the shooting started to taper off. Richard called for a cease fire, and then we waited. The plan was to wait at least ten minutes and watch to see if anything moved. If someone moved, then we would shoot that one person. Once we were pretty sure everyone was dead. Then the first group from our side would approach the vehicles, cautiously. This group had one person from several of the locations we were set up in. I was going from the courthouse, Richard from the roof of the building to the right of the church, Brian from the building on the left, Alex from the small building next to the church, Charlie from the lower floor of the courthouse and Alice from one of the other rooftops. We were coreagraphed so we all were about the same distance away and approaching at the same speed.

     No one and nothing moved for the ten minutes and we all went through the plan without a hitch. The six of us moved together through all the bodies and made sure no one was just pretending to be dead. Then we moved on to checking inside the vehicles, especially the RV's. When I made my way into the first RV, I was surprised how many holes were letting light into it. Blood was sprayed all over the inside, on the walls, floor and ceiling. Bodies were laying all around. Women, children and even a few armed men in each RV. They must've thought that if anyone attacked them, they wouldn't shoot the women or RV's. Then the men inside them could surprise and over power their attackers. Good plan, they just didn't know how ruthless we could be.

     I'm not proud of what we did but it was necessary for our survival. We killed all of them and then took anything that hadn't been completely destroyed during the ambush. Not much was left, but they had guns and ammo that had made it through better than food or almost anything else. We left them where they lay, it would've taken too long to bury them, we didn't want to leave a fire burning and couldn't stay long. The gunfire would draw any undead near the church and courthouse right to us. We were quick in taking what we could and were packed up and gone withing fifteen minutes of the all clear being given by Richard and Charlie.

     Our group headed back to the houses we had stayed in the day before, where we had stashed some stuff we had found in the neighborhood while we waited to get into position for the ambush. We all changed clothes, since we'd gotten bloody searching the bodies for useful stuff, then packed up the supplies and headed home, safer then we'd been since we had learned of their group.

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.