the way the wind blows?

(Scribbled sloppily on a bedroom wall-

sharpie, black and paint, lavender.

Girl's bedroom. A watercolor painting

of a butterfly over a messy bed.

Abandoned.)

It's been the sort of thing you know is coming

like when you know you're losing the girl

you know your tire just blew out

you know the world is coming to a halt.

If you're reading this, I apologize--

I'm not too punctual

I'm not too bright,

and I don't have any paper

or any clue and

I--

(i'm not going to make it)

You know, the last words he said to me?

'Unconditional love is an awful cute idea.

A pretty way to sell a card,

or a soul

or to buy a hymen.

When you dig in it's teeth, though?

Truth is, it's about as real as Santa Clause

(bout as real as the easter bunny, if you want to

stretch that far)

It's a real nice sentiment and all,

but let me set you straight, kid-

All love is conditional.'

I was kind of stuck in my own head,

trying to wrap grey matter around those words,

and the stale tobacco on his fingers,

and the yellow on his teeth when

something changed. It all changed.

We were all changed.

Lock down mode, crisis arrived. 

Lucky for me, more like crisis averted.

I was holed up in a cocoon on my bed and didn't

get the flu rolling around and crawling into 

people's skin and bones and minds.

I didn't get what so many people sank

into, avoided the eye-rolling-and-drooling-

and-whimpering-and-stomach-fire-thing

that was enveloping more people than not.

(this is day one.)

Survival mode hasn't kicked in yet,

haven't felt my adrenaline flow,

still stuck more in a state of shock than

a state of understanding.

Sirens like to blare, out of tune,

outside. There is no hope.

I haven't quite accepted that, yet,

either. I don't know how many people

are gone. I saw the news before it all turned

into static and white lines and blue screens.

It is day one, and I am writing this to you.

Day negative one, I spent worrying about a man

who didn't love me. 

Day two, I get to see the damage that has been done.

Now is when we realize all the things we didn't know--

(how to get the flour to make the dough)

And I have a secret, if you can keep it.

(there is no way to survive)

Born

I was born to survive

So why I'm surrounded by death

The tears I shed burn my face

For being sad is a gift and a curse

Never thought being grown

Meant you had to live alone

I try to learn form others misfortunes

But I'm still trying to work through my own

I was raised to thrive

Always looked past the finish line

As if I was next in line to fly

They said my laugh is contagious

So why they not laughing

When I say I'm going to make it

Seems I'm immune to the gases in the air

It's only fair that I share

i was born to be free

There's no chains that can hold me

I stay humble

In order to move forward

Keep the negativity from hurting me

Tough skin don't come easily

Suicide is never on my mind

Don't think working will kill me

I was born to be hungry

Missing a meal is beneath me

Being a monster is never ending

When everybody starving

World full of zombies

Every man for themselves

Fighting over a piece of meat

that's how i survived

Guess I was born to be the smartest human being alive.

 My first thought of the day had been to lift my phone and look at the slew of emails that had arrived in the early hours. So many people saying the same thing, have you seen the news? Are you safe, Llewellyn, are you safe? I'd imagined them all strange, paranoid or playing some trick on me as I rolled over and went back to sleep. I was wrong, but how can I be blamed. The truth came to me later as I watched the news, bleary eyed and toast in mouth. A hospital in America they said. A Ukrainian city, a Starbucks in Minnesota. Reports seemed to pour in, faster and faster. My tea went cold. 

 I hope again that this is all some hoax, the screaming, foamy mouthed creatures filmed on phones and on news cameras merely the work of some sadist or another, a publicity stunt for the next zombie film. I hope again. 

The real world outside the television seemed much the same as usual. The traffic is the same and the buses run two minutes late. I timed them as I went to get milk. The newspapers said the same as the television, 'The end is nigh' the Daily Mail said, 'More inside' I didn't dare to look on page fifteen, where the outbreak was reportedly pictured in detail. A lady with a matching tracksuit rolled her eyes and bought her scratch-card. 

I had just finished my second cup of tea when the lights, vivid blue and painful to the eyes, pulled up. The virus is in the water. It's in the water, I drank it. I was approached by people, genders known and obscured by their white radiation suits. My blood sample was taken and my mouth swabbed. 

I am infected. 

As I write this, my fingers begin to chill and my heartbeat is slowing. We are unable to leave our homes. On the news, zoo animals are being butchered and the infection spreads in ever widening pockets. 

I drank more tea and ate my dinner, it was a steak I had saved for the weekend. I called my brother and my boyfriend and I tried not to cry as I told them I loved them. 

My saliva is turning to foam, I will go to bed, I will sleep with picture of Dylan. I hope I miss him when I have turned. This may be my final entry. Goodbye. 

As of six hours ago, the world's air didn't smell of flesh.

My situation is both an extremely lucky one, and simultaneously the least fortunate.

In my profession as a janitor, I work alone for perhaps forty-five minutes at a time. I was in the small building I clean when I heard something thumping on the front window. If I thought I was startled at first, that didn't even compare to the scare I got when I was a few inches from the undead. 

I promptly reinforced the entries. And I was also sure to clock out, not that it matters. 

I just have custodial equipment to defend myself. Fun.

Update: The phone lines went down a few hours ago. Better prepare for a long night.

-AK

If you´re reading this, 

run over to the corner

that´s yonder the pits

where the red trash can lies.

Crouch down and bend,

I bet there are spies.

They are waiting for you,

sorry, I don´t mean to scare,

but just by the fact that you made it

means that they´re there. 

Now hurry, run!

No time to spare!

Go over there and you´ll find

protective gear to wear.

Got it? OK,

now run to the lab.

There you´ll find more instruction,

and you´ll know what went bad.

It was never our intention,

and I know that you know,

that the experiments we made

had never lost control.

Until now, this day,

to much dissatisfaction.

I know that if you´re reading this,

you took part in the action.

Well now that, finally,

it went wrong,

I´m sorry that you´re the only one strong

enough to carry this out,

but please do,

and remember that there is no time to pout.

Don´t get sad,

don´t get mad,

don´t burst out in tears,

because you are the only one here

who can actually put an end to this,

who can make it stop,

this huge mistake 

that was all my fault.

I know if you´re reading this,

it already happened.

We made a zombie

and just couldn´t trap it.

So now that we started

the apocalypse,

I´m going to have to ask

that your lips 

stay sealed

about what has happened,

of what has occurred,

and of what your task is. 

Now this is enough,

in just one letter.

Do what I tell you,

the more precaution, the better. 

Go to the lab,

straight to the fire

and burn this old thing

before the bomb expires.

Yes, there is a bomb,

I know you know that,

it will detonate three days max

after you set it,

whether you try

to regenerate it. 

Oh, but be careful! 

Don´t throw in the whole thing!

We might still need

this old diary.

Of course, please tear out the page,

it´s only this one we want burning in flames. 

Now go!

Follow my other instructions.

You know where they are,

and if they´re not there,

they shouldn´t be far.

Either way, don´t worry,

it shouldn´t be a problem.

I believe that we have

talked of this often.

Remember, with care,

of all we´e gone over.

You can´t trust the ones

who on their shoulder

wear the mark

of the 2nd Order.

Go, friend,

and don´t loose heart,

you mustn´t let them 

tear you apart!

Run, hide, everything you can,

you must stop it now,

before you, like the others,

are also thrown down.

Written on September 21, 2015

Specified use of ALE LAB only.

Diary, and therefore private property of

-Dr. Ad.Z

My mother told me that if I ever need help I should call them and recite K6403. “They would send help” she said, “Keep me safe” she said, but when I called an hour ago the phone just kept ringing, the sound never ending. My brother was infected. The sound of his scream still echoes through my head. I know it has started, I know that hell is with us, and now I must react. I know that I need to find people, because finding people means finding resources, and I need resources. I glance around the door frame. Now is the time. Fight or flight.

December 7th, two thousand sixteen,

Let´s begin with some short poetry...

I know, I know,

¨it´s sooo not cool¨.

But hey,

stories can be written as poems, too! 

I always do this,

I always have.

But today it is different,

I write, though not glad.

It´s hard to find words

to express your feelings

while writing a poem

and enduring bone chilling screams

that echo and resonate

at most unexpected moments,

all things that do happen

while facing a zombie opponent.

Now let me tell you, 

as I finish up,

about these zombies

who just won´t give up

trying to take over the world,

humanity in it,

until all people are gone,

and with them their outwitting.

The wit of the humans

to actually fight back

while undergoing 

a zombie attack.

Because truly,

truly I say,

that this is the start

of the apocalyptic days.

The final days

in which we prove our right

of owning this land

at great sacrifice.

The freedom of man

to remain as he is,

and not have to take part

in that awful zombie bliss. 

But now, oh friend,

I have to go,

and I put down this pen

with so much sorrow,

not knowing when the next time shall be

that I write in my notebook

this short poetry.

-AZ (under the code name Naixin)

To whom ever it may concern,

Run First, Read Later!

It is not safe here, people are being mauled on the streets. A Genocide of Mankind is happening before my very eyes. I am cursing myself for not filling up earlier in the week, I can't get very far with less than half a tank of gas. My roommates are gone, my apartment building is eerily quiet. I've emptied my backpack of all schools supplies and have gathered around three shirts, two pairs of jeans, one pair of cargo shorts, a hammer, flat-head screwdriver, 4 plastic bottles of water, one reusable bottle of water, and the only non-perishable food I could find...one jar of peanut butter and 3 cans of tomato soup. I see my vehicle clearly, no one is around. I'm going for it....

Around 2 hours ago I was still packing my bag. I've now managed to make it to the small chain of mountains away from the outskirts of town, with only less than 2 gallons left in the tank. The dirt road was clear, only one broken down truck on the side of the road. A truck of powdery blue color with all the windows smashed, a sight that didn't tempt me in the slightest. I've managed to cover my car in foliage, to camouflage it from I don't know what.....I wonder if my family and friends are okay, nobody has responded to my calls and now my phone is almost dead. I recall this mountain top from when my friends and I visited. There's a gas station 20 miles down the other way. I have just enough gas to get me there. I don't want to become a mountain man with the feeble supplies I've conjured up. I'm going to go for it tomorrow at the break of dawn. For now I need to sleep off this nightmare. My friend whoever you are stay safe. The state of my town was something out of a movie. Dead bodies littered the main road, cars piled in the streets with no one behind the wheel. Cannibals ravaging poor victims. I've seen no sign of sane life aside from myself today. I fear the worst has happened to my friends, I may very well be the only one to make it out of my town...I don't want to think about what would of happened if I didn't sleep in...I'm leaving this note as evidence of what befell my town. I can not offer you any guidance beyond these words. It is very likely you are scared, as I am terrified. But take comfort in knowing that there is at least one sane being still out there, that is a comfort I do not have today. Take care my Friend, I hope to see you one day alive and well!

DAY 1

NAME: YVONNE RIDGES

BIRTHDAY: JANUARY 16

AGE: 20

JOB: TASKMASTER

POSITION: TREASURER/SECRETARY

October 3rd,

I would say that today started out like any other day, but it didn’t. I woke up hella late, was roped into buying the food for my Mom’s birthday, and had to rush with my siblings to set decorations up, all before two o’clock. It was all worth it, though, when I saw the smile on her face. Today, my family had gathered to celebrate the fifty-second birthday of my Mother. 

It lasted two-and-a-half hours. 150 minutes filled with laughter and comradery. It lasted, until that damn news broadcast interrupted the movie we had all sat down to watch. 

I remember every word. After all, it signaled the start of Armageddon. I’ll summarize it for whoever will read this.

Six months ago, a pharmaceutical company, with funding from some big wigs, had created a serum that sped up the production of disease fighting cells and the time it took for them to fight of viruses and such. Doctors swore it was a God send.  

Except for the fact that it had not been cleared for use by the FDA.

The company and the funds-men were not okay with waiting, and began to ship the product out to their doctor friends to use on patients. They had wanted to make their money back, and make the FDA look bad for holding back mass production of what they felt was the modern day penicillin.

If only they had waited. In the next six months, the company sent more serum to their friends. Those friends, wanted a little profit on the side, so they sold it to other doctors. And that pattern went on like a well oiled machine. Until reports of cannibalism and living people decomposing, began to roll in from Florida. 

Authorities handled the situation, and everyone thought that it was over. That is until this afternoon, when two of the company’s CEOs were found crouched over the rotted and bitten bodies of the funders. Soon after, the FDA released a statement.

The super drug had been denied production on the bases of some article or another. The main thing was that the cells were producing too fast, and that the overproduction of these sped up cells had mutated them, to the point that they were killing all cells. Skin, brain, and even themselves. It was advised that those who had the shot to “handle the situation”, as a drug to reverse the effects was not made.

In the very family room I sit in now, my usually loud and boisterous family had gone bone chillingly quiet. The matriarch of the family silently stood. Her ebony face was ashen, her wrinkled hands were clasped behind her, and she had a resigned air about her. She stated in a voice that could command legions, “All of those who have had the shot, stand.” At first there was no movement. Then my oldest cousin, a mother of four, stood. Next my oldest sister stood. Four more cousins, one aunt and uncle, and finally, my mother, stood. The matriarch nodded; “We all know what has to be done. If you don’t have the guts to do it, then you need to leave. Immediately.” 

Hugs started. Whispered “I love you’s” echoed in the room. Tears flowed freely and without reserve. Mothers held their children in embraces so tight, bones were poping. It would be the last time that we, as a united family, would be together. My uncle told a joke that received a few chuckles, but those people quickly sobered.

When everyone was finished, a few walked out the backdoor with the Matriarch. The rest piled into one SUV and one car and left, never looking back. I looked around at who was left: my older sister, two older cousins, me, four teenage cousins, and four babies. Everyone, except for the babies, were despondent. I suggested that everyone eat, take a bath, and bunker down for the night.

 While that was going on, I looked over our supplies, bathed, and we assigned watch duty. I took the 1-2 shift, with one of the younger cousins. I found this notebook earlier, and I have decided to keep a journal of what happens on this journey. I will also be making lists of things we need, potential places to live, everyone’s roles, and everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, in the back of it.

My mother always joked that I was the most anal of all her kids. Thinking about it puts a smile on my face. That is, until I hear the sniffling. My cousin is silently weeping in her corner. It wrenches my heart, and makes this surreal situation almost tangible. 

  I glance at the wall clock. It’s one-fifty. I motion to him, my cousin, to wake up those that have the next shift. A siren is sounding off in the distance. Church bells are ringing. It has begun. We move at four. Good night and Pax Vobiscum. 

END OF DAY 1

STATUS: ALL ACCOUNTED FOR (MENTALLY AND PHYSICALLY)

SUPPLIES: PASSABLE; COLLECTING MORE TOMORROW

THING YOU’LL MISS THE MOST: HOT WATER

A GOOD MEMORY: WATCHING THE STARS WITH MY OLDER SIBLINGS WHEN I WAS YOUNG

This will come to a surprise to most but I have discovered something even more terrifying than regular every day zombies. I didn't think it was possible but this disease goes beyond what we even imagined. That is why I am quickly documenting what I witnessed before it is too late. It is currently three something months in the apocalypse and I, being the intellectual I am, have been living in a boathouse in the middle of a small lake for a while now. Most of my family died early on with only my dad and my dear friend Lamar remaining. We were running low on food, water was no concern because the house had built in water filter. There were no fish in the lake, again, not that big. I typically go out scavenging for food with pretty decent success, but earlier today something truly horrible happened. When approaching shore I could see quite a few zombies approaching from dry land. I readied my machete to start exterminating them but all of a sudden the house started to shake from underneath. My dad walks out onto the porch to ask what was going on when suddenly the wooden planks cave in from under him and hands grab at him pulling him into the water. I try to grab for him with my friend Lamar following quickly to help. The house continues moving forward into shallow water and eventually crashes into the shoreline; causing me to fall backwards and accidentally letting go of my father. The look of terror in his face burns even to this moment in my head as he was swiftly brought underneath the water. It is then that I realized how strong the zombies can be if they can break through the boards, yet I feel like it shouldn't be possible with all past encounters. That's when I had another realization... these things were not normal. One of the creatures emerged from the hole and climbed up onto the porch. It's entire body was bloated from the amount of water it absorbed, it was completely disfigured, more so than a regular zombie. I was paralyzed, the moment most people would be shouting among the audience as to why I simply sat there in horror, but no one would question it nowadays, I was simply terrified. Lamar shoots his revolver at the beast a couple meters away, blowing its brains out. He then comes over to me and pulls me up to my feet. Suddenly the normal zombies were climbing onto the boat from the shoreline unexpectedly, Lamar starts shooting them dead as I try to get the boat house back to deep water. More of the... the bloaters I'll call them emerged from the water, hundreds of them, from both shallow and deep water, they were buoyant; or worse, they could swim. I knew then and there we couldn't be on that lake anymore so I try to call for Lamar to follow me into town but he was too preoccupied. When he ran out of bullets he switched to his knife but he quickly got swarmed. I ran. Lamar's screams rang out in horror as I left him behind. There was nothing I could do. With only this machete of mine and a single water bottle, I knew I wouldn't last long. I thought I did well too, surviving, but who would expect those bloaters to be there, in fact why were they there? Why now did they show up? I'll probably never figure it out. I'm currently trapped on the roof of a building surrounded by zombies, in the distance I could see the lake dotted with the monsters. If only I had a gun with a bullet in it... if only.