7:47am:

I don't even know what to say here. I write (here in this journal) every day, with the intentions of passing on some of my introspect to my daughter. I allow myself to be open; to express it all~ even my fears and failures. I wanted her to know about them, learn from them, grow from them.

And now today, as every other day (same time and window seat) I sit here, pen in hand unsure of how to express what is going on here. The world, (as we know it) is completely over; fantasy meets reality today~ I could actually laugh as I place these words on paper, except I am in a cold sweat and too frozen in fear to transfer anymore movement~

anymore than what is being used to write with my left hand.

8:21am:

If my daughter survives, I want her to know I didn't let fear get the best of me. One of life's lessons I verbally passed down to her, was to not let it take hold of you. We practiced this many times~ redirected our thoughts, approaching the situation with love, patience and consideration. These were things we enjoyed overcoming together. These are the times our bond grew.

I want her to know I stayed true to that, to the end. That her love is what kept me focused. And that I didn't let the bite get me right away....

If I would let fear seep into the wound, I wouldn't be able to react, or hold on to my sanity; nor would I be able to write this last journal entry.

And I will finish (as I do everyday).

8:46am:

I want her to know I tried all our options we discussed right after I locked our vault. I want her to know I did my best; but cutting off the bitten area of my hand didn't prevent the infection from spreading.... unfortunately.

9:03am:

Now... I don't have much time, not much time at all, in fact, though I know my brain can handle the critical thinking, I can feel it taking control of me; infecting one neurotransmitter at a time.

As we converse, I am fighting against this urge... the alterations of my behavior. I will not let fear take control over my body, nor will I let...

9: 14am:

That was a massive shift.... I am warding off the effects as long as I can. For research purposes, I theorize that the transmission and take over of the zombie parasites can be fought of (buying some time for the host) with strong mental capabilities. Let's list....(stay focused).

Strong mental capabilities: strength, loyalty, trust, honor, devotion~ I made a promise to not kill myself.... she made me swear.

Our loyalty and honor to one another is stronger than this apocalypse; and if it was at all possible, to turn those characteristics into some sort of "power", we could defeat them on our own...

but it's not possible. And I am running out of time.

It's already happening....

9:23am:

Holding on. Tried reminiscing on our last embrace....boy, did that hurt. All of my supplies from my pack and trail trips came in handy as I had to close the steel vault door on my baby. I remember the day we purchased the safe room; the Titan series~ "engineered to succeed", all that prep and safe keeping of our travel money, valuables, records and documents; now it's just being used to protect her from "zombies"....

Who will I become?

9:30am:

Seven minute stretch... focus...

My expectations are for someone to find her. She is protected from them; from me....but she cannot stay in there forever. We agreed on it before, so there is no sense for me to regret our decision at this point (I'm worrying about her alone in there). It's too late to go back. I can't go back. I....

9:35am:

This is probably it. If you get out love, don't look for me~ I would be so ashamed. I promised you I wouldn't kill myself, but please.... run from me, baby.

I pray now I won't see you. I can only hold off this for a bit longer and by then I won't be your mother anymore...

I pray now I can preserve some connection between us. It is what has kept me going this long. I hope....

I pray now I won't open the vault after this completely takes me over....

9:38am:

Three minutes....I love you Eva Rose. This will be my last journal entry. I am glad I got to finish before

.....

something changes around April.

The ground thaws to pea-green grass,

the first sharp color of crocuses burst through,

their little periwinkle blossoms a trumpet for spring’s arrival.

The days are longer,

people shed off their woolen underwear,

their sleek, leather booties in favor

of white sneakers and cropped pants.

A warmer wind blows through birches,

and quite suddenly there are lilacs everywhere.

Deep plum-purple lilacs,

snow-white lilacs,

pink lilacs,

lilac lilacs.

Such an abundant flower;

lots of clustered blossoms,

lots of soft, dreamy fragrance,

lots of lots of lots.

When they grow along woodlands,

unused lots,

they are full,

savage as untended briars.

Those were my favorite lilacs.

I can’t speak the language,

the way their r’s rrrroll

into a lush purr.

I don’t understand the people,

the way they linger so long onto silences

at the dinner table.

Sweden doesn’t make sense to me

yet.

But those lovely lilacs growing in parking lot gardens,

those fresh fields of scilla beneath the beech,

those make sense to me,

perhaps

the rest will come.

I don't even know why I'm doing this. Habit, I guess. I've been keeping a diary since I was a little kid, and started keeping a blog years ago. It helps, I think, getting the words out onto paper... or a screen, in my case. God knows, this is a lot to cope with.

I wish I knew where you were.

I woke up this morning and you were already up. You'd pulled the suitcase out from the bottom of the closet and you were shoving things into it. Clothes, handfuls of underwear and socks, books, CDs, anything you could grab.

I remember I sat up in bed and I asked you what you were doing.

You looked up at me, and I remember how frantic you looked. You never look frantic. You're the calmest guy I know, with an answer for everything. I didn't know what was going on then, but that was the point when I realised it was something bad.

"Jake..." you started to say.

"Please don't tell me you're leaving me," I said. I know, I'm such a cliche. I was only half-joking.

"No," you said, "It's not that. We have to go. I'll explain later, but we need to go. Get dressed and pack what you need. Quickly, please."

The look in your eyes told me how serious you were. I got out of bed, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, and started packing things into my rucksack.  We both travel pretty light, so it didn't take long for us to get packed up. I followed you outside and there was an armored car sitting there.

A guy in military fatigues got out, saluted, and opened the door. I wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but you looked at me and shook your head. You told me to get in the car, said you'd explain later. 

I trusted you. I got in the car with my rucksack and sat there rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The military guy put the suitcase in the back, and you sat in the car next to me. As we drove off, you reached out and took my hand, and you promised that you'd explain soon.

The car took us to an office building. There was a briefing, serious-faced men and women talking about rates of infection and contingency plans. I understood maybe half of what they said. 

I know now that they were talking about zombies. Like we live in some cheesy 80s horror movie... goddamn zombies. That's not the word they were using, it was something like partially reanimated deceased persons, but I'm a film studies major, I know zombies when I see them.

You left the safe-house three hours ago, saying that you were going to find Alex and you'd be back soon. An hour, you said. 

I wonder how long I should wait. I suppose eventually I'll need to leave too. Please come back soon.

I'll be waiting. You still owe me that explanation, after all.

I love you.

Jake.