For all readers…
Hello there! If you’re reading this, you’re one of us-fellow survivors. You know what happened; our world has changed drastically. Unless you’ve been tucked away in a bunker this whole time, you’ve experienced it too. This book is my account of the apocalypse, as many have come to call it. It’s dedicated to all who have made it through, those who’ve come after us, those who’ve lost their lives, and everyone in between. I’ll be marking the days as “days since the apocalypse” because, honestly, I’ve kind of lost track of time.
Day 32
Well, hello. I’m recounting my memories as Spring comes, and I’m glad of it. It’s been a month since this all came down. There was some lab testing up in Antarctica, not even known by government officials. They made a big mistake from what I know and caused all this. That’s all I know. I made it out alive, but I don’t feel very much alive anymore.
Humans lose their minds in isolation, and I haven’t spoken to anyone since my best friend was taken. Taken by what I can only describe as zombie-like creatures. We were surviving together but he only lasted a week in the apocalypse. Nearly five weeks of isolation has almost killed me. Again and again, I think of what I could have done.
Well, anyway, who am I? My name is…well, I don’t feel the need for a name anymore, since no one will hear it. I feel like I’ve forgotten it. You can call me E, short for my real name. I’m a sixteen-year-old dude who no one really liked in school and who no one knows now. I grew up in a small town in the Midwest but moved when I was thirteen to New York. The big city wasn’t for me and even though millions lived there, not one could I call a friend. Until I met S, which I’m using for my friend, well past friend. He’s…gone, as you know.
Trying to survive in the big city during an apocalypse is not a survival story I’d like anytime soon. You’ll get plagued by zombies and have no time to run. They walk at a decent speed and come in groups. And smell. Like, really really bad. Their smell is almost as bad as their numbers. Whenever I go out, I have to use a clothespin or gas mask or something to not vomit and pass out. Yeah, that bad. I almost passed out once, not making that same mistake twice.
Then there’s the people. In a past sentence, I stated that I hadn’t spoken to anyone since S was infected. Spoken. There was this one interaction. Well, less of an interaction and more of an attempted murder. I was out looting a store, rifle in hand, looking for food. Then a loud bang. I caught a glimpse of a man dressed in all black holding a gun. He missed, but in my state of shock, he had time to shoot again. Above all odds he missed again, giving me time to shoot him. I didn’t want to kill him, really, but also he tried to kill me. After that, I haven’t seen anyone. I still feel kinda bad. He looked about my age and terrified, but maybe it was for the better.
Okay, I’m going to put a pause here and write soon because writing has worked up my appetite. I’ll have to go forage the nearby city area for some food since my small supply is out.
Day 34
I’m writing again today because I’m bored. Yesterday, I went out to grab some food, and, as shocking as it sounds, I got attacked by this massive mob of zombies. I shot them to the best of my ability but there were way too many so I ran. Luckily, I was fine. As fine as I could be. Alive, per se. Took a while but I escaped and made it out and back to my bunker-type thing.
It’s a simple little thing, not much but keeps me safe and out of sight. It’s the top floor of an apartment building. It’s about 16 by 16 square feet, with boarded windows and a triple-lock steel door that I installed (with much trouble). It’s got a nice wooden cabinet where I keep food and a bathroom where I’ve got a tank of water stored. With a bed and some changes of clothes. Also racks for stuff and a closet. Simple, but decent protection.
And then there’s the location. It’s the highest apartment building with the highest room. Mostly so the zombies can’t come up easily.
It does get kinda boring sometimes. I like to read books in my apartment and also sit outside. Not for long, of course, but for a short time. The fresh air is good. Don’t forget the stench of zombies, of course. I can barely smell them up here, however. Walking outside, I can feel the fresh air. It’s calming. I look below me as I’m writing this to see our world in ruins. Small dots of zombies litter the streets. Up here it feels different. Almost careless. Almost like the world can’t touch me. I know none of that is true, though, but it’s nice to think about. Oh well. I’m going to make a nice little dinner and sleep. I’ll write again tomorrow.
Day 35
I look up at the wall of my apartment. Lines of white chalk mark the surface, counting how many days it’s been. I grab the chalk and leave a diagonal cross across the set of four lines.
“Day 35,” I muttered to myself before sitting back in the chair.
Something feels wrong. Maybe some fresh air will help? I don’t know. I stand up and walk outside. Wind blows. It’s nice, you know. Maybe you understand this feeling too. The feeling that nothing can touch you up so high. Maybe you don’t know. I don’t even know who you are. I can only hope it can make me feel better.
P.S. I’m about to go back to sleep, but something still feels terribly wrong. I always feel like that, but this is stronger than usual. More severe, too. Like an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s been in my mind all day, I can’t seem to shake it off. Let’s see if I can sleep tonight.
Day 36
So I didn’t get that good of a rest. The feeling kept me awake. Staring at the ceiling, listening for any sounds of zombies. I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy. Everything just feels so distant to me. Nothing can change, will it? Maybe it’s not worth it. Anyway, I don’t really want to write anymore right now.
Day 40
Day 40, is it? I guess so. Still the same, though. 4 nearly sleepless nights. I’m probably just being paranoid. Not much has happened. My food supply is almost out. I suspect it will last me up to 2 days before I have to go back out again. Every time my food is low scares me. I don’t want to go out. Death is waiting at my doorstep and I have to dodge it every time. The glare of the setting sun is beautiful yet terrifying. The night is coming. Looming over me. Waiting for the deep orange sun to sink below the world. A kingdom falling to the darkness.
I get up and draw the curtains before making myself a quick dinner. Grab two slices of bread and put some cheese and meat between them. Then get a water bottle from the fridge and eat. I slowly eat subconsciously, not really existing. At times I’ll just fade out of reality, like nothing’s real.
Good night, I guess. My hand is a little sore and I’m practically falling asleep at this point. Better be well-rested tonight. Let’s hope I can sleep.
Day 41
I feel better this morning. Definitely got some rest. The feeling hasn’t lifted but it’s dimmer than earlier. I just checked my food supplies. I’ve got enough for lunch and dinner but nothing else. I guess I’ll have to go out later. I’m not looking forward to it. I’m aware that this may be my last entry in my diary, but I prefer the word “accountant of the apocalypse.” Just sounds better, I guess.
The sky is less blue than it used to be, I realize while looking out of the window thinking of ideas to write about. It’s like some permanent grayish-green fog sat in the sky and never left. It has a dimmer tint than it used to. Like that tint in those olden movies simulating a polluted future from like the 70’s, I think. I don’t think about that stuff much, I prefer to not be stuck in the past.
Each day I try to find something worth doing to keep my sanity in check. I also try to find a good time for writing. There’s a bookshelf in my house with a decent amount of books. I plan to restock it sometime when I’ve read all the books there. There’s not much to do with my time. My schedule is pretty repetitive. I have updated it a little in the past week.
Oh and I forgot to mention, since I live on the top floor, I have solar panels on my roof. I use the energy for a few things, one is a beat-up dialog clock that sits on a table. That’s how I know the time.
Here’s my schedule:
7:00-7:30-Wake up
7:30-8:00-Prepare breakfast
8:00-8:30-Eat breakfast
8:30-8:45-Check and update stocks
8:45-9:00-Come up with the next day’s meals
9:00-10:00-Work out
10:00-10:30-Meditate
10:30-11:00-Go on my deck, outside
11:00-11:30-Prepare lunch
11:30-12:00-Eat lunch
12:00-12:05-Update stocks
12:05-1:30-Read
1:30-2:00-Go outside again
2:00-3:00-Write in my accountant
3:00-3:30-Clean the bunker
3:30-4:00-Meditate again
4:00-6:00-Relax
6:00-6:30-Prepare dinner
6:30-7:00-Eat dinner
7:00-7:05-Update stocks
7:05-7:30-Extra chores
7:30-8:30-Read and/or write in my accountant
8:30-9:00-Check the house is secure
9:00-9:30-Relax (Bath Every 10th day)
9:30-10:00-Play my guitar
10:00-10:30-Listen to music and do nothing else
10:30-11:00-Read again
11:00-11:30-Relax
11:30-11:45-Prepare for bed
11:45-11:55-Write in my accountant/Read
11:55-11:57-Mark another day complete
11:57-12:00-Go to bed
It’s a nice schedule. I meditate every day to keep my sanity, I have a small area where I work out, a CD player and a pretty big collection of CDs, and plenty of time to relax. I’ve got some board games I play, sometimes I work out, sometimes I read or write, sometimes I listen to music, sometimes I just sit there and do absolutely nothing. Depends on how I feel. This schedule is discarded on scavenging days, however. Tomorrow is a scavenging day. Right now is my time to relax before dinner. The clock now says six. I’ve got to make dinner.
Hello again. This is my 7:30-8:30 reading and writing time. Dinner was fine, nothing special about it, though. I had a can of beans and a glass of milk. It was fine. Beans are good. Was a lil bland, though. That was all I had left, besides a granola bar. I’ll take that as a snack when I go scavenging tomorrow. Let’s hope I make it. I can’t stop dreading leaving the safety of my bunker for the dangers of zombie-ridden New York. Let’s hope I have nothing to worry about. Maybe I should talk a bit more about me. Like me me. Like the person I really am and not the person I have to appear to be.
I won’t reveal my name yet. You can still call me E, but the name S0L0 fairs well, too. Yeah, that’s my new name, S0L0.
In the brief summary I gave about myself, I included the fact that I had grown up in a town in the Midwest, a small one, to be exact. I had made a few friends there. It was nice, it was home. When I was thirteen, my parents told me that my father had found a job in the city of New York. Of course, I was not open to the idea. Going from a small, rural town to a huge metropolis was not on my “Things I’d like” list. I had everything at my old home, and I tried and tried to convince my parents to not move, but they said they had made their decision. They got a basic apartment in the city and moved there after about 2 months of the job offer. So along I went, heading to New York. We got there, got the apartment, my dad got the job, and I went to a school. A big Middle School. Now, as you may know, the kids at Middle School are terrible. I was bullied, harassed, and made fun of for being the “new kid from the Midwest.” It sucked, but I didn’t let it get to my head.
Then there was…S…His name was…Sam…I just hate to say it because it reminds me of the pain. He was the kid who stuck up for me. When one of the eighth graders was picking on me, he would tell them to run off. We became friends. Really good, close friends. We would go over to each other’s houses every day. Our moms became friends, too. We went into high school together, ready to face any bully out there. Little did we know, in high school, the bullies would be the least of our concerns. After a year, we were both sixteen. Sophomores in high school. By then I had developed some feelings for him (Just to clarify I’m a Bisexual male). I had never asked him out, though. In our second year of high school, the apocalypse hit.
It was like no other. I was at Sam’s apartment. We were hanging out. Then, out of nowhere, we heard a loud bang! The zombies were outside the apartment block. Me and Sam barricaded the windows and the door. His mom was outside, and we had to come to the fact our parents were going to die. We were in the top…the top room. The room I’m in today. We survived about a week with the food we had before we had to go get food. Sam and I went outside with guns and some protection. Then, we went to a gas station and grabbed food. While we were there, there was this horde of zombies. They came rushing at us and…I need to catch a breath, give me a second…They were coming for us. So many…They came for Sam. He ran, I tried to shoot the zombies but it was no use. They chased him down an alleyway, then…He disappeared. I assumed that he was one of the zombies now. I ran, too. I shot them all. Then I got the food and left.
I like to think that he found a way to escape, but the odds were nearly impossible. Maybe someday I’ll see him again, but that’s wishful thinking. I try not to get my hopes up for nothing, but I really want to see him again.
These are my ten writing and reading minutes before bed. Tomorrow I’m going out again. If I write back, I’m alive, if I don’t, I’m dead. Let’s hope I make it…Let’s hope. Good night, diary.
Day 42
Good news, I made it. I got enough food for up to a month if I ration well. I’m looking forward to not having to leave for a while. Everything went according to plan. Everything went in my favor. Let’s hope I’ve got good luck next time I have to leave. But, we can only hope. I’m feeling in a good mood today. A good night’s sleep, the granola bar was good, and I found plenty of food! I’ll write back when I finish organizing and putting away the food.
I’m back. I’m going to spend today reading and lying back. My hand’s a little sore from yesterday’s load of writing. Well, best of luck, diary. I’m looking forward to today. It’d be nice to relax for a whole day. Farewell, for now.
Day 45
I know it’s been a little while since I wrote last. There hasn’t been much interesting stuff to talk about. It’s my time to write again. The view from the balcony is nice. Nice…enough. I see little groups of moving green dots. Buildings that stretch into the sky. And the miserable stench I can barely smell from up here. Yeah…Nice, enough. Whatever…The view is, okay.
Tap, tap, tap. Where is that noise coming from? I hear it from outside. Dang it. Let me grab my gun and check it out…Wish me luck…
It’s late at night now…Now I have the chance to tell you what happened.
There’s a tap on the door. I’m scared, so I grab my gun. I hold my gun out and slowly unlock the door. The face is a face I haven’t seen in forever. It’s the same face I know, just…Different in a way. Dirty, unkempt curly brown hair, green eyes that once sparkled seemed dull. Ragged, torn blue and gray t-shirt. Torn gray jeans. And he looked like he had been thrown into a sandstorm. But a smile that showed some hope.
“S-Sam?!” I asked in complete shock. “Is it…Is it really you?!”
He nodded and coughed. “It’s me. Or…so I think”
“But…you died, didn’t you?”
“I escaped,” he replied.
“You can tell me more once you’re inside,” I told him, leading him in and locking the door shut. “Here, you can sit here.’ I pulled out a dark blue bean bag and set it on the floor next to my lounge chair by the window.
Sam walked up and sat there gratefully.
“So…How did you get here?” I ask Sam.
“It started after the zombies chased me,” Sam started, “I was terrified, sure I was dead. I ran into the alleyway just to realize I was done. My chance was shot. I heard you shooting them, but I knew it wouldn’t work. Then, I saw a lid to a sewer entrance. That was it. I ran over and opened the lid, and hopped inside. I was alive. I wanted to go and get you, but I knew I couldn’t. That’s where I stayed for a while. I wandered the sewers. About a week ago, I decided it was time to try and find you. The first place I thought to check was this apartment. I found my way out of the sewer, I looked for that apartment complex. I went to this certain building, and hiked the stairs. I was then at your doorstep. I still can’t believe you were alive and in the same place I left you. It took a week to find you, but it’s worth it.”
I was speechless, but we then spoke about our lives recently. I made him dinner, we chilled, I showed him my schedule, and he said he’d gladly live by it. While I’m writing this, he’s asleep and I’m finishing writing. Goodnight, and farewell, I’ll write more when I can.
Day 48
I know these are larger gaps in my writing. Now I have someone to talk to. Not just talking to myself, or writing in you, diary. Sorry. Sam is fitting in well. We’ve kept the same schedule, just edited it a little.
Here’s the new one:
7:00-7:30-Wake up
7:30-8:00-Prepare breakfast with Sam
8:00-8:30-Eat breakfast with Sam
8:30-8:45-Check and update stocks
8:45-9:00-Come up with the next day’s meals
9:00-10:00-Work out with Sam
10:00-10:30-Meditate
10:30-11:00-Go on my deck, outside with Sam
11:00-11:30-Prepare lunch with Sam
11:30-12:00-Eat lunch with Sam
12:00-12:05-Update stocks
12:05-1:30-Read
1:30-2:00-Go outside again with Sam
2:00-3:00-Write in my accountant (Sam draws)
3:00-3:30-Clean the bunker
3:30-4:00-Meditate again
4:00-6:00-Relax
6:00-6:30-Prepare dinner with Sam
6:30-7:00-Eat dinner with Sam
7:00-7:05-Update stocks
7:05-7:30-Extra chores
7:30-8:30-Read and/or write in my accountant
8:30-9:00-Check the house is secure
9:00-9:30-Relax (Bath Every 10th day) (
9:30-10:00-Play my guitar (Sam plays dusty drum set)
10:00-10:30-Listen to music and do nothing else
10:30-11:00-Read again
11:00-11:30-Relax
11:30-11:45-Prepare for bed
11:45-11:55-Write in my accountant/Read
11:55-11:57-Mark another day complete
11:57-12:00-Go to bed
I pulled out a dusty drum set from the closet so now we have a little band, almost. Life feels better now. I guess that sense of dread was nothing. Let’s hope that stays the same. This is my 2:00-3:00 accountant writing time.Sam is sitting by me sketching out a picture of a mob of zombies. It’s pretty good.
I haven’t talked much about Sam, have I? The name doesn’t hurt to say now. That’s good. He’s got curly brown hair, bright green eyes, and light freckles. He’s changed since the apocalypse. His brown hair is more ruffled now, his green eyes don’t sparkle as much as they used to, he’s taller, and more muscular, his voice also sounds lower. Not just his physical appearance has changed, though. He’s more quiet, more focused, more smart and strategic. He hasn’t lost anything about him, though. He’s still kind, still thoughtful, still the guy I had a crush on. Let’s hope he doesn’t read that last part. He doesn’t know. I don’t have the confidence to tell him. When he was gone, I tried to forget about him, tried to push the thought of him away. But now that he’s here, I realized my feelings for him never really left, I just tried to keep them away. Sam’s great. 3:00 is here, me and him are going to clean up the place. Bye for now.
I’m back. This is my 7:30-8:30 read/write time. Sam’s a pretty good cook. We had two cans of tomato soup, a piece of bread, and an apple on the side. I have to increase the ration amount slightly so he has some to eat, too. Today’s been pretty uneventful. Just the usual schedule. He’s fitting in well for the first three days of living here. I’m still glad that Sam is alive. Living with the fact I couldn’t do anything to save him was miserable. I’m glad that’s not an issue.
I don’t know what to write about. I’m sitting in my usual chair. He’s sitting in a bean bag next to me, reading a book titled, “World War Z” by Max Brooks. I’ve read it before, it’s a good book. But no book predictions quite predicted this apocalypse, the real one. Our zombie apocalypse is its own thing.
These zombies are decently paced. They’re smarter than you’d think. They’ll travel in groups, and will usually stick together. They have smarts and skill. Luckily, they can’t climb a hundred sets of stairs. They have a greenish tint to them. Usually they have a ripped up part of their body. And pretty bloody too. Imagine your worst nightmare, add blood and disfigured limbs, add a terrible stench, multiply the amount by a million, make them come in groups, make them outside your house, and make them real. Living in the big city doesn’t help, either. Mobs of zombies are at every corner and alleyway. A single zombie is beatable, several hundred is not.
What I’m wondering is what happens to human civilization. Me and Sam can’t be the only survivors, which means there’s others out there. Which means that there’s living people, which means there’s a chance we rebuild. That’s the life I’m wondering about. Someday I want to scavenge the city for survivors. Maybe I can find some people out there. But the people scare me, too. I know there was a person, but I shot him in self-defense. What happens when someone tries to shoot me again? I may not be as lucky as the last time. What if the other survivors try to kill me? I dunno, it still worries me though.
I don’t know what to talk about. Sam didn’t give me any good advice on stuff to write. His reaction to the question, “What should I write about?” Was saying, “I dunno. It’s your diary.” Very helpful indeed. It is my accountant on the apocalypse, so I guess I should talk more “Zombie ridden New York” and less “Blah blah blah.”
I’ll talk about scavenging, I guess. First, you need gear. Good gear. I keep a M1911 pistol with me and an AK-47. Also take a melee weapon, to which I take a baseball bat and chef knife. I looted them from some nearby places. I go out with a bulletproof vest, but it works pretty well for scratches and bites. You also go out with a road snack, to which a granola bar works pretty well. Now there’s the difficult part, not being infected out there. After traveling the 100+ flights of stairs, you want to keep a low profile. Have your hands ready to grab your weapon. Get to your destination quickly and quietly. Open the door to your chosen place to loot silently. Then you have to scout the area for zombies. Once that is completed, grab your desired items and carefully bring them with you. It’s difficult, but doable. From what I’ve learned about them, their eyes are worse than their hearing. So stick to the shadows and be completely silent. That’s the best advice I can give you. Don’t go out for too long, either. The longer you’re out, the more chance of death.
I’m feeling a little more tired than I usually am at this time in the day. The sunset was nice, it was a bright orange but had a tint of greenish-gray, thanks to the apocalypse. I think I’m going to go to bed early. I asked Sam and he agreed, so I guess no guitar and drums tonight. I’m practically falling asleep at this point. And my hand is sore. I’ll be done writing for today. Good night, diary. See you tomorrow.
Day 50
50 days. Wow. I didn’t write yesterday because I didn’t feel like it. This is my 2:00-3:00 writing time. During this time yesterday me and Sam chatted. Lunch was cooked with canned veggies and rice. One thing that sucks about the apocalypse, one of the many, is the fact we can’t have fresh food. The fresh food only lasted about a week until it went bad. Now we’re stuck with canned food. It’s not bad, don’t get me wrong, but I’d rather cook with fresh veggies than canned ones. I’m thinking about getting some seeds next time I go scavenging for a mini garden. So I can eat some fresh food with my meals every once and awhile. Me and Sam were talking the idea over and we agreed.
Today’s a bath day. We’ll bathe in the bathtub, but since we don’t have running water, we’ll pour some of the water, that’s stored in jugs in the bathroom, into the bathtub. The process is simple, but time taking, that’s why we only do it once every 10 days. First we pour the jug of water into a large metal pot. Next, we take the large metal pot and set it onto the stove and heat it until boiling. The large pot of water is equivalent to half the tub. While the large pot of water is heating up, you pour the other half of the jug that’s not heating up, it’s also room temperature, into the tub. When the water is done boiling, you take it and pour the other half. It’s warm for about twenty minutes.