Sept. 21, 2009 - 11:48pm

The modified generator is holding up fine. Although it is slightly louder then the previous engine.

As I type this a "full-on" dead runner is raging around our street. It is not natural for any human to make a noise like that. I could hear it approach as I was reading through the last email.

They enter and exit the vacant open hopes around us as they please. The windows and doors have long since been beaten in or just simply left open. Who knows how many can be infested around us. I havent dared to go into them yet. Although it could come to that, our supplies are become "Danger Close" to being depleted.

I am overwhelmed from your responses. It is contact from the outside world, that keeps us sane and to feel human.

Thank you all. The Light within each of you cannot be measured.

It is finally time to power down for the night,

DrakinClaw out.

Sept. 21, 2009 - 9:30pm

- Transmission from Ryan

Sept. 11, 2009

Looks like Drakinclaw might be in trouble. No updates in over a week. Hopefully he will pick things up soon. We are holding up fairly well out here. Living on elevated terrain and outside the city limits has proven invaluable. I am down to just under 1000 rounds for my M4, but the stream of infected and would-be looters has lessened considerably. What's left of the neighborhood has banded together. Working to fortify what's left and compile supplies. Wish more had followed church council to store a year's worth of food. Still, living in Utah has had its advantages. As the neighborhood gun-nut I have been elected a kind of defacto sheriff. A few guys are pretty squared away, so I am finally getting some sleep. Generators are low on gas, and I don't want to siphon everything just yet. Looks like we need a hunting party to drop down into the valley and see what we can scavenge. I'll let you know how it looks. Good luck drakenclaw, wherever you are.

- End of transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 8:48pm

- Transmission from mjporreca

Sept. 15, 2009

Last night we heard gun fire off in the distance. At first it was sporadic, rifle, .308 maybe 30-06. As for us, we had two guests arrive just after before dark. The first tripped the alarm strings running across the street. We had been teaching Jason, the son of the family who’s dog got killed, how to shoot. We let him fire off some .38 rounds from a revolver to get a feel. We have very few .38’s between us and I have plenty of supplies for reloads. He’s a natural. Maybe because he’s got young eyes and good hand eye coordination, or maybe video games really to help, either way he’s a decent shot. We decided, if he was up for it, this was a good chance to give him some live fire practice. The shot was only about 30 yards. He braced on the hood of an F-150, pulled his father’s Remington 700 up against his shoulder and sighted. I stood next to him, “Breath in, let it out slow, hold it, sight picture, squeeze.” BANG. The corpses head looked like it popped open and the body fell to the ground.

“That was for Buster,” he mumbled while still watching through the scope.

The second of the zombies showed up about 10 minutes later. We had all calmed down from the first one, and Jason had gone back to the barricaded house we were all now calling home. Five of us were discussing options. At this rate it seemed like we could hold out for weeks. If it really came down to it, there were supplies in other houses that we would be glad to replace after this whole situation was over. But at the moment we didn’t need to worry that. The zombie then stumbled out from behind one of the houses next to our main house. We hadn’t heard any alarms and the thing hadn’t moaned. If it had been darker, it may have gotten the jump on us. I’m very glad we got to learn this lesson without paying for it. All four of us with firearms pumped two shots at the thing. We had been working on fire discipline and although we all shot, we didn’t go crazy. Two people pulled on the long heavy work gloves we have, put on the asbestos filter masks and moved the bodies down to the embankment we threw the others over.

In the morning we dumped a few more wheel barrows of dirt and Clorox down to cover them. It’s not a good long term solution, but it’s been working so far. The rest of the day we spent on the defenses again. We’ve been moving cars to block the paths between houses and taking apart our fences to help shore up those blockades. If we decide to stay I want to try to create a funnel for anything coming up into one field of fire. I won’t completely leave my guard down in other directions, but it will add some comfort. 4 more zombies came during the day. No one living has been by. Some of us think we need to start looking around.

I wonder about the bodies piling up at the firing we’ve been hearing. Tom setup his backyard telescope on his roof and we spotted the source. It’s actually the police station just on the other side of the river. We have a nice view of it, about 2 miles away. There’s a steady stream of corpses coming from all the directions. On the roof, it looks like a few officers and some national guard. They seem to be holding out pretty well. The dead, or redead, are piling up. We watched them all day, we’ll see how much light have now that the sun is going down again.

- End of transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 8:36pm

I hope this is not a sign of the servers starting to go down. The email from Raptor was sent on the 30th. But in my entry box it was marked as received on the 10th.

You are not alone.

-Transmission from Raptor

Aug. 30

Thank God. Someone else is still out there.

This last week has been hell. Dad went to work and never came back, Mom and my Grandmother went out for a walk even though my brother and I said not to. We heard screams. I'm pretty sure they're both gone.

Thank God I went out and bought guns, ammo, food, and a generator when I heard the first reports. We've got about a month's worth of canned foodstuffs left, but we're running lower than I'd like on ammo. Looter's have actually been more common than undead, which is surprising; I'm still shocked how brutal suburban soccer moms cam be when the stuff hits the fan.

Drak, do you think we should stay put or bug out? I'm thinking stay put, seeing as how we still have plenty of supplies and neither of us know anything about wilderness survival. On the other hand, we're using up ammunition faster than I'd like, and few people in my area own (owned?) guns, since it's a very liberal, anti-2A area. Barring that, should we search for other survivors, bring them into our house/fort or move into theirs? Also, any idea on how to recognize someone who's been infected but hasn't died and reanimated yet?

Whatever happens, Drak, I thank God that I found your blog; radio and TV stations went dead around here two days ago and I'd begun to lose hope. I wish you and your wife the best of luck, and I hope and pray that you both make it through this.

Godspeed,

Raptor.

- End of transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 8:11pm

So much to think about.

But for right now, its contact with the world we desire.

Back to reading.

Sept. 21, 2009 - 7:56pm

- Transmission from lordiego

Sept. 10, 2009

Words cannot describe the joy that little green blinking light brought to me as my eyes caught its constant flickering among the rubble of this one time popular coffee-shop..
It could only mean that the wireless router was indeed working off an active internet connection. Instantly I knew that meant news and communication with the rest of the world,
as well as an active outlet from which to charge my now defunct laptop. My mission is accomplished, I set out 4 hours ago to find exactly this. Its been one week since I've heard from another living soul that's not my wife nor my dogs. The infected seemed to have consumed everything in my immediate area, there are a random few here and there, but the bulk of them seemed to have headed north. Hopefully in pursuit of the groups of looters that have chosen to make a terrible situation worse.
Going back to the beginning, I could have sworn I was more prepared than the average Joe to deal with these types of situation... having lived through two South American economic collapses and having dealt first hand with rioters and looters. But nothing that I've seen in my life could possibly prepare me for what has gone down this past two weeks...
I remember it was nice sunny day, and I stopped by my usual gas station to fill up the tank and pick up a pack of cigarettes on my way to work, when out of the blue, two dirty homeless guys came out of nowhere and attacked the lady on the gas pump next to me. I went around to help her, hoping I could stop what looked like a violent mugging, when one of the "homeless" guys lifted his head to look at me, hanging from his mouth were pieces of flesh from the woman they had just attacked, who now laid on the ground, bleeding and unconscious, half her face having just been consumed by these animals. After a few seconds of shock, I kicked into high gear, jumped into my car and headed to work. I dialed 911 but the lines were busy. I turned on the radio, and there were reports of rioting, random violence, and cannibalism on the streets. I knew then and there things would turn real bad, real quick, I made a 180 and headed home.
We spent the rest of the day securing our residence, boarding up windows and reinforcing doors. With plenty of food and water, I knew we could hole up in our house for a couple of months at least. But when the power went out a week ago, I knew I had to go outside to assess the situation, lest we turn out like those Japanese soldiers who lived for over a decade hiding in the jungle because news that the war was over never reached them.
We are now alone on our street, (except for one house that I believe to still be occupied) everybody else either packed up and left (probably had to abandon their car on the mess that became of the highway), succumbed to these creatures, or was overcome by looters.
I will now leave my laptop in this coffee shop, charging its battery. I will attempt to make contact with this blog every 48 hours.
2 People, 2 dogs. Well stocked. For now.

LorDiego over and out.

- End of transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 7:48pm

- Transmission from Master Shake

Sept. 9, 2009

I wasn't in the city, but my aunt lives just on the Jersey side. We holed up in her house, just watching the waves of refugees pass by. The smoke was heavy and sporadic gunfire could be heard at all hours. Fighters screamed overhead almost hourly, then slowed. Now we only hear a large plane a few times a day. No traffic from the commercial airports.

For three days there was a non-stop exodus of people fleeing on foot. Some on bycicle, but cars were not going anywhere. A few people broke off from the main artery and "scoped out" our neighborhood looking for food or water or whatever. Most were firmly herded back to the freeway by the old timers weilding shotguns.

On the fourth day there were nothing but stragglers, a few dozen at most. The gunfire increased and we could see more and more of the stumblers on the overpass. We assumed the infected (or whatever we should call them) were following the people fleeing the city. A trickle turned into a mob, and they were so thick on the overpass we could see some of them knocked off the side. One landed near the top of our street. It began crawling back towards the freeway, trying to crawl back up the wall. A few of us went out to see it. When it saw us it began crawling for us, but with two smashed legs and a shattered pelvis it could barely move.

It looked like it had been doused with bleach, or acid almost. Hair clung in tufts, and most of its exposed skin was pure white, though the blackness lurking beneath the white skin was the worst part. Part of the exposed skin was blistered, and the thick chemicle smell coming off its clothes told us that it had been doused in something. Under the chemicle smell was death, rotting meat. We didn't want to get too close. Its eyes were milky and scarred, like it had sand poured into the eyes but no tears to whipe them away. It couldn't see us, but it could hear us as it crowled around swiping with its one good hand. Trying to grab at us.

The rumors were true; they dead really were walking (crawling?). Rather than risk the noise of a shot, we smashed it with a sign post and made out way back to our houses.

We have a lot of food compared to most folks, and a fair amount of water. The pipes are still working so we have been filling up anything we can. We've cleared out the food from the neighbors who have left, so that helps. There are six of us with my Aunt. She's old and in a wheel chair, we can't leave her.

I'm picking up a wireless signal from somewhere, and the generator is still going strong. I'll post more as I can.

- End of Transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 7:20pm

- Transmission from miken40

Sept. 4, 2009

Drak, I don't know if you'll get this or if you've moved on but this morning when I walked into cell range to use my Blackberry, I actually got an e-mail. In the from column it simply said "USGOVERNMENT." My first instinct was to say "oh great, spam" then I was like, "Dude are you crazy? Nobody is sending you spam!"

I've attached the e-mail so you can share it with anybody else that's reading. I'm also forwarding it to everybody on my Blackberry contacts list in hopes that someone will get this.

Oh I almost forgot to tell you I saw my first one of "them" when I was hunting in the woods near a logging road yesterday. He must have been a tourist or a birdwatcher once or something because he still had these fat binoculars around his neck. I guess he wandered up from the main road. Scared the shit out of me cause I hear this phlegm kind of noise behind me right before I'm getting ready to take a shot at a turkey. I swing around and this fuck is like five feet from me. Boom, boom, boom goes the 12 gauge. At five feet even I couldn't miss. Shame about the binoculars, but there's no way I was touching that shit.

The family is doing OK although food is starting to run pretty low. My wife gets pretty freaked out when I hike down here to check in with you so I'm gonna go back now. I'll try you again in a few days if all goes well. Be safe.

- End of transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 7:12pm

-Transmission from mjporreca

Sept. 4, 2009

I meant to write in the morning, but things haven’t slowed down until now. It’s funny, before this happened I would have thought that people would be busier at night. But, there is more to in the daylight. Gather, build, recon, plan. And the dead don’t care if its night or day, they come when they come.

That first night we had our tripwire alarms set and the cars pointed in every direction. Six of us stayed out on guard. Most of the wives and all kids were in the one house we could board up the best. We expected a hoard. The plan was simple, if we stay alive out here, they stay alive inside. I wouldn’t be able to live if the people in that house didn’t survive the night. So for me, there really was no choice, and I know I wasn’t alone in that. At around 10 pm the first trip wires went off. As soon as the rattle of the pebbled filled tin cans started, Janet ran to the Honda minivan that was pointed down the street and flipped on the lights. The creature just kept trying to walk forward. Not realizing it had heavy twine wrapped around both ankles. We all watched him…it. I almost felt like it would be rude to shoot before it figured out what happened and as able to come towards us. Everyone else must have felt the same, or were too terrified to shoot. That’s when Buster came out. Janet and Tom’s Lab something mix. He bolted out from their backyard. Buster was all snarls and teeth. I’d never seen him like that. He charged straight at the corpse, sinking his teeth deep into the neck. Janet screamed, “No!” and tried to call him back. That’s when we all learned what these zombies could do. Instead of flailing in pain or collapsing like a normal person; it darted both hands back in an unnatural way. Then it stood. It raised straight up with a 50 pound dog hanging on its neck like Buster wasn’t even there. Then in a way that looked like it should have dislocated its shoulders it lifted Buster over its head, breaking the dogs grip and taking out a hunk of neck and shoulder. The zombie, quicker than I thought it could move, bit right into Buster’s side. Ribs, fur, and muscle didn’t slow it down. It ripped Buster open then with tore him in half. Blood dropped out of the torn body as thing began to feast with both hands full. Taking gulping bites like a great white shark. I only heard Janet’s scream for an instant. I filled the night with shot from my PTR-91. The .308 round left only a sliver of shoulder holding up the zombie’s right arm. The second shot missed completely. The third, took off the right side of its head from the ear up. I’m starting think my 3rd shots really are the charm. While the creature fell everyone else opened up. We must have wasted 50 rounds between on that first one. Looking back, we need to learn some discipline, or we won’t last long.

Janet was done for the night after that. Tom took her inside and their 17 year old son took over the headlight job. He said to some degree he felt like it was payback. We didn’t mind, as long as it helped him. Five more came that night. We didn’t hesitate on one of them.

The sun came up. I thought I’d be tired, but it energized me. We felt safer, less alone with the sun up. On some level I know we aren’t, but I’ll take it. We restrung the alarms and strengthened some of the barricades. We have plenty of food, water, and supplies to last a little while. We are all grateful for that.
The sun is down again. We hear firing in the distance and see flashes of light out near the elementary school. There is not enough light to know what’s going on. I’ll cling to the hope that we will know more tomorrow.

- End of transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 6:50pm

- Transmission from fargo007

Sept. 3, 2009

Hey Drakin, how you doing up there on the hill? Things are okay down here, and we're still buttoned up pretty good.

The whole family across the street is sick, and they have little kids. Ordinary germ sick that is. These days we have to specify don't we.... I'm a precision rig guy. That's what I do best, but there couldn't be a poorer choice for a fast haul for 1.5 miles with only defensive engagements in mind.

Glad I decided to buy a suppressor for the 5.56. I'll explain.....

With the 308 it doesn't matter because you're firing one shot, and usually driving them shitwise instantly. If they manage to scream and howl, others begin to arrive shortly.

The CVS is about 1.5 miles away as the crow flies. I'm on my way at 5am this morning, thinking that the cold of night has slowed them down some. It has. If they are not directly in my path, I evade them by hopping yard fences, dodging in and out of trees, you know. Once they lose sight of you and you get a quarter mile away or more, they can't follow anymore, or seem to lose interest.

Shit - I used to run that 1.5 in 9:37. My 41 year old attitude writes checks these days that my 41 year old knees cant cash. I had three at the traffic light by W. Trenton Rd. that weren't moving. I stayed in the trees and crept up on them about 200Y away. I did a 360 scan, went prone, and got my breathing under control. Feeling the trigger, I let the 200 stadia line in the ACOG come to rest gently on the top of the nose of the only one facing in my direction. The others wouldn't see the shot this way. I was slung up tight, and the crosshairs moved only vertically as I breathed.

The trigger broke. Red spray, and it's head snapped back violently, the tendons in the spine elastically propelling the head forward again as it lost voluntary control and collapsed almost straight down, like a sack of rotten chicken shit.

My left leg slid down about an inch, and my NPOA came to rest on number two. He still hadn't turned his head, but he'd never get the chance. He lurched forward and hit the ground face first and motionless.

The third one was turning the wrong way to try and find some context clues. I took advantage of the broadside head shot, and found his right ear with my 200Y stadia line. The 75 grain bullet really knocked the corn out of his shit. His skull flung sideways and came crashing down on his left shoulder, tearing muscle and tendon visibly on his right side before he toppled and lay motionless against the curb.

As I'm laying there breathing again.... playing it back. What, three seconds? Nah.. 2.5....

WHO THE HELL CARES???

I heard shuffling on the pavement to my right, and I turned ever so slightly to see what it was. An older man who had turned quite a while ago was headed toward the intersection. They had made some kind of sound and drawn him or something.

He was focused on them, and didn't even see me. I lay motionless as he went by. Perhaps 15 yards away from me. He was going so slow I didn't waste rounds. I went through some backyards to get ahead of him and arrived in the CVS parking lot. I wondered how many more in the area would have been alerted if I wasn't suppressed....

The doors were smashed open. I cleared it, noting that batteries, camera film, and all the food was gone. Expected. I quietly made my way to the pharmacy area. Tweaks and junkies had been there, and succeeded in beating the lock off the controlled substances locker. They left all the antibiotics there. Dumbasses are already dead I bet.

Amoxycillin, Zithromax, levaquin, all the good stuff. I put all I could in the ruck. Rubbing alcohol, bandages, everything I could grab. I went to open the storage room door, and a right hand lunged out and tried to grab me. I still had the rifle slung across me, but the ruck was behind me now. About 35 years old, dark hair that looked almost green and matted down, average build. Skin was gray, and his eyes were lifeless and void. Did I know him from this store? It charged forward fast, trying to bite me. My heel caught the ruck, and I felt myself going down backwards. I got my left hand under its right elbow as I fell, and took it with me, moving its head away from mine, and by fortunate coincidence driving its right eye socket into a sharp corner of the step stool that was there.

I got up, and turned around ready. I realized I was much more coordinated than the body of this poor soul. I could have shot it, but for some reason, I didn't. I knew my training was a weakness now because I instinctively waited for a deadly force cue rather than taking the initiative. It lunged again with a right hand for my throat.

I seized its right hand against my chest with my own right hand, flipped the wrist over, using my chest as the foundation for the lock, grabbed its elbow with my left hand and cranked HARD. I could feel the tendons in the wrist giving way and the bones grinding unnaturally together with a sickening and grotesque sound. I knew its wrist was broken, but it didn't seem to care. It actually leaned further INTO the wrist lock to try and bite me. This caused its forearm bones to separate and twist against eachother.

Realizing teeth were about 9 inches from my face, and that pain wasn't on this thing's radar, I had to bargain that leverage was. I had dealt with people high on PCP before, and I knew what worked and what didn't. I stepped back fast, tugging the wrist out, and straightening the elbow. I retained control of the wrist, as my left hand slammed on the elbow joint. I spun back and right, and drove its head once again downward into the same damn footstool. I stepped on the shoulder, rested the suppressor on the back of its head, flicked off the safety, and jerked the trigger.

It hadn't scratched or bit me, but I realized that there are different rules with these things.

The trip back was much harder thanks to all the effort I expended. I took one out about a half mile out of the CVS. It came out of a church and ran right towards me. A Woman. When it was about 75 yards away I put one in its hips, causing the pelvis to split, and its legs buckled. It was immobilized, and I figured if it howled, it was far enough away that It would draw them away from my street. I took to jumping fences again.

Now the best part of the story. I hear a dog barking. I head that way and see a german shepherd type dog circling two Z's and trying to get a piece of their ass without getting too close. It looks like a police dog or something. A couple rounds later the problem is solved and he starts running along side me! Like the fucker's known me for years.

Renee drops the ladder at the house as I arrive, and I climb up and toss the ruck and the rifle in to her.

The kids are there looking and watching the dog. A hopeful expression on their faces as I climb back down.

They were overjoyed as I came up that ladder, with the dog nervously perched on my shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Since he was busy getting his 'Zombie on' when I found him, the kids want to call him "Zoon."

Fine with me. He's a belgian Malinois. I hope he's a good guard dog, because those things are just too damn tough to eat.

--Fargo007

- End of transmission

Sept. 21, 2009 - 6:36pm

We can finally rest now, but I will not let my guard down. Even the sounds from outside seem to be muted. It is the quietest around twilight, as the sun sets or rises. Maybe because of the shifting light?

Time to go through the backlog of mail.

The hope for humanity lies in the light of the survivors.
Be safe, and watch your six.

Sept. 21, 2009 - 3:45 PM

THE GENERATOR IS BACK ONLINE


Dear God, at Sept. 1st 12:02am. The Husky 5000w generator finally failed on us. Running 24-7, I knew it was only matter of time.

I was going through the inventory from my excursion outside a few days before. Suddenly *Blink* the lights turned out, and I heard on of the loudest sounds of my life, the generator powering down. It made this low oscelating electric pitch that shifted lower and lower untill it was silent.

I stood there in the garage, pitch black darkness around me. It took some time in that blackness to fully comprehend the ramifications of my situaton.

Without power all normal life ceases to exist. It took me 30 days (nights are useless without power) to rebuild what was broken. A simple piston ring, a $24.99 part, put us back in the dark ages. After 2 weeks of trying to repair a impossible task, I knew we had to develop a new solution. It was my beutifull wife who came up with the stunning idea of trying to convert the engine from my "Toro" lawnmower into the engine for the generator. Without her, I would be nothing.

The Dead are rampant in the streets, and the endless drone they make pierces our walls, into our ears and almost into our very souls. That underlying smell of death. They line the streets like cancers cells flowing through human veins. Pounding and bumping into whatever they wish. Some are fresh, others... God, it is almost to much to describe.

There are some that can full on SPRINT fast. I have seen a number of them. Those are the ones that haunt my dreams and my reality.

As well as trying to fix the generator, I have had to deal with them. The dead that do not stray away from our house. I do not wish for my wife to have to stair down the sights into one of those things, it is a burden I want to bear for as long as possible. The images those things burn into your mind do not disappear. I CANNOT afford them knowing we are hear. It did not take me long to realize, it is the destruction of the central nervous system that can only take these down. but why? why are they even here?

It is in the dead of night in which it must be done. Silent as I perch from the rooftop across the street, they did not notice me. The Eotech glowing red softly, only to my own eyes, in the night as I aim the barrel of my Stag m4.

1 shot, 1 of them drops. The others look around to the general direction of the sound. Some drift toward my location. But I am but a shadow in the night. Eventually they drift back to whatever state they were in.

1 shot, 1 of them drops.

Power in the night.