February 12, 2053
I don't even know what to write in this notebook I found, I don't even know what got into my head. I almost lost an arm because of the librarian, a plump, heavyset woman missing almost all her hair, an eye, and I think at least five or six teeth... not to mention half her jaw. Truly sexy. She was hiding in the aisles where I was rummaging around looking for something useful. As I grabbed this notebook, she clamped down on my arm like a steel vice and started drooling this disgusting yellowish liquid mixed with rotten blood all over the sleeve of my jacket. Disgusting! I hope the stain doesn't stay, and more importantly, the smell. Maybe I should've paid more attention when my ex tried to teach me how to do laundry... it might have been useful. Well, maybe this notebook could help me keep from losing the little sanity I have left and keep track of things in case anything interesting happens.So, where do I start? Today was exhausting. I took refuge in an old school, but it's anything but safe. The broken windows let in the wails of those monsters, and the room that seemed the safest is where I am now. Judging by the tables and the half-destroyed brown leather chairs scattered around, it seems to be the teachers' lounge. I even found a coffee machine, but I doubt I can still place an order for pods on their website. Every sound echoes through the empty hallways, illuminated by sunlight streaming through the windows, resonating and amplifying with every meter it travels, like a reminder of my vulnerability. This place, which should offer some safety, is just a relic of the past, and it's anything but secure.I saw two cyborgs today, again. I think they're patrolling the square a couple of blocks from here. They walk like they're afraid of nothing, flaunting their shiny weapons like a VIP flaunts a designer handbag that cost thousands of dollars. But I wonder if, beneath all that metal and circuitry, there's still something human left. Every time I see them, I think I could become like them, that maybe it's the only way to keep living. But at what cost? The idea of losing everything that makes me human haunts me.
Oh, I almost forgot: at the entrance, I found one of those airtight containers the tin men transport in their mini reconnaissance cargo robots. Probably some flesh-eaters thought they'd find a brain in there and dragged it to the entrance because it was covered in rotting blood. Lucky for me, I found a box of cookies and an intact ice cream amidst all that muck. Sure, ice cream isn't like having a cake, but I guess you can make an exception… Dad… Happy birthday. I miss you.
February 13, 2053
Today was pure adrenaline. I went out looking for supplies in a decaying supermarket at the corner of the street. Overturned shelves, opened canned food scattered everywhere, and an oppressive silence that made me jump at the slightest sound. The light filtered timidly, making it hard to search properly. I tried to move as fast as I could, keeping in mind that every blind corner of those shelves could hide danger, but I found nothing of interest, just a box of still-intact meat and an old radio with no batteries. I don't even know if it works, but I took it with me just in case. On the way back at sunset, I was forced to pass through a group of zombies. I had to, or I wouldn't have made it back before dark. It was the third time I found myself in a situation like this; my skin went cold, and every step was an act of precarious balance. I felt like a ninja, except I still have my underwear full. I wonder if real ninjas or fighters are surviving this somewhere. Anyway, I'm back at the shelter now, but I noticed at the entrance that the cyborgs' supply box I had left is gone. I doubt it was a survivor... the last one I saw was executed five months ago by a cyborg for refusing to join them… Maybe it was some undead drawn by the scent of spoiled, rotten mush inside. This situation is unsustainable, and every day is a race against time to find a balance between surviving and keeping my integrity.I can't understand how one can be so cruel in this new world, to their own kind. I wonder what we few people left, still made of flesh, are we still human, or just cattle for slaughter? Do we still have a place on this planet? Or maybe that tin man from five months ago had his brain replaced with an empty can too? Anyway, I'm lucky to still be alive, considering that at the start of all this, I was twenty-five, out of shape, and locked in my room playing online games. Okay, enough writing now; I'm very tired and need to rest. Goodnight.
February 14, 2053
Today is Valentine's Day, or at least it used to be... in the past... The fact is, the remains of what looked like a wandering stripper (judging by the tattered clothes) decided to start banging her head hard against the outer wall of the school, waking me up. She must have heard a squirrel or another rodent that led her to my refuge. I had to take care of my Valentine right away, or it would have been serious trouble because of the noise.
Christ, maybe it's time to fix my baseball bat. It's cracked from hitting so many skulls; I wish I could find a good machete! I'm going to look for some tape or glue, something to temporarily fix the problem. After all, this is a school, something must be buried somewhere in the rubble. I think I'll have to try to find some batteries on the next expedition for the radio I found.
February 15, 2053
Things are not going well at all. I took stock of the supplies, emptying one cardboard box after another that I had piled up in the corner of the room. I've only got enough canned food left for another four days. Luckily, water isn't an issue: in this school's small storeroom, I found two ten-liter jugs, the kind used for the teachers' lounge dispensers. But if I don't do something about the food... it's going to get really bad. I'm scared. I don't even know where to look; everything here is in short supply. Every room I open is empty, every piece of furniture has already been ransacked, not even a damn snack under the desks, damn it!I managed to climb onto the school's roof. Part of the building had collapsed, and the rubble piled up on each other created a sort of ramp. It took several attempts to climb up without falling, my hands scraped from the broken concrete, but I finally made it. From up there, I saw that, in the opposite direction of the square, there seems to be a bar or something like that: it had those typical rusty signs and a shabby, torn awning in terrible taste. I need to plan, but I think tomorrow I'll try to reach that place and see if there's anything, anything edible. Meanwhile, I couldn't find anything to fix my baseball bat. The crack in the handle has widened. I hope it holds out for a bit longer.
Things to find:
Any blunt weapon
Food
AA Batteries
February 17, 2053
Shit, this place is no good at all! It's not just a matter of food anymore, but also safety. I almost got killed yesterday, and all because of a brain-eater hiding under the rubble that served as a ramp to the roof. I went up to make a plan, and while I was moving among the debris, its putrid hand suddenly shot out, clamping onto my leg so hard that I fell, and my left shoulder slammed into a concrete block with a sharp, knife-like pain. It hurts like hell, and I think I'll have to postpone the expedition until the pain subsides… hopefully soon. I only have enough food for another day, so today I'm skipping a meal to buy some time.To make matters worse, I broke the bat too. Trying to free myself and strike it as it emerged from the rubble, I missed in panic, and the wood hit a piece of the roof, splitting it in half with a horrible crack. I had to finish that bastard off with the nearest rock I could find, hitting it repeatedly until its skull turned to mush.My shoulder still fucking hurts. I need to find some first aid medicine. And I need to find it soon.
February 19, 2053
Fuck, what a headache! I woke up with a dry mouth and a hammer pounding against my temples, a clear sign of last night's hangover. I accidentally found a bottle of whiskey rummaging through the director's desk drawer—a small alcoholic treasure that bastard must have kept aside for moments of despair caused by the students. For his misfortune (or perhaps mine), I found it. And now I'm paying the price. This isn't good at all; I'm letting myself go too much. My head is exploding, my hands are shaking, and the food... the food is practically gone. Shit. Outside, a group of brain-eaters is making their usual chorus of moans and muffled screams. Their voices seem to vibrate in the air like a distorted melody, a torment that makes me nauseous. They're looking for something, and I fear I know what. I don't plan to be the main course of their banquet. I grab the last box of food left, take a bottle of water, and quickly move to the roof. I'll stay there until I'm sure they're gone.Okay, I'm on the roof. The hangover didn't help at all, damn it. To get up here, I had to cling to the edges of the collapsed ceiling, pulling myself up with all the strength left in my arms. My already battered shoulder let out a scream of pain that almost made me give up. Everything is going wrong. I have no more food or any weapon to defend myself. I'm hurt, debilitated, and hopeless. It's already a miracle if I survive tonight.
Tonight, the sky is as clear as I haven't seen it in a long time, or maybe I just haven't been paying much attention lately. The stars shine with an unreal clarity, millions of tiny bright eyes staring down at me. I had forgotten how bright they could be, without all that smog and pollution that choked humanity. If only the roof floor were a bit more comfortable and those dead ones below would shut up, it could seem like a moment of peace, an illusion that none of this ever happened. Now I close my eyes and let the night envelop me. Goodnight.
February 20, 2053
Holy shit, what a damn scare! I woke up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest, because of a sudden noise, the crash of falling debris coming from the hole where I climbed up. I almost died of a heart attack! I looked down and saw a damned dog, a big bastard with tough skin, desperately trying to climb up to me. It whimpered, scratching with its paws among the rubble with a persistence that surprised me. It wouldn't give up, as if something had attracted it here, maybe my stinking sweat. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the loneliness, maybe the desire for some living contact. I climbed down and helped it up, pulling its sturdy body and dragging it onto the roof. It wasn't easy! It was heavy, and it twisted in fear. But in the end, we made it. Now it's here beside me, panting, with its shiny, reddish fur glistening in the sunlight. It has a nice short coat; it looks like a mutt, maybe mixed with a Labrador. Its eyes are big and dark, filled with a strange mix of fear and hope. It doesn't look malnourished or injured. It's a good dog, fortunately. Just very, very scared. It's almost certain it had an owner until recently. Who knows, maybe the owner died, or they were forced to abandon it due to a lack of food... A real problem. It hurts to think about that possibility. I'll call it Lucky. Because tonight, it was indeed lucky.
As I climbed down to help it, I noticed the pain in my shoulder has eased a bit. Some good news, finally. And at least now, I'm not alone anymore. There's someone here with me. Sure, Lucky is also an extra mouth to feed, and food is scarce. But it's a risk I'm willing to take for now. If I don't find anything to eat, I could always roast the dog… Just kidding, of course. Maybe…
So let's take stock of the situation. I have a dog, so I have some company. But I also have a problem: Lucky needs to eat, and so do I. On the other hand, I don't hear any more moans from the street. Maybe the pack has moved on. It should be almost noon. Maybe it's time to act. I'll pack my bag, gathering what's left. This place has nothing more to offer me, not even a safe shelter. I need to get out of here, find a way to move away from the center. With a bit of luck, we'll make it to the outskirts of the city, where there's less chaos, where maybe we can survive another day. Good luck to me… and Lucky.
February 21, 2053
We've been walking for hours, zigzagging through rubble, collapsed buildings, and streets full of abandoned cars. Everywhere there are signs of chaos, the rush with which people tried to escape when everything went to hell. We passed by a looted supermarket, with shattered glass doors and completely emptied shelves. Lucky sniffed the air nervously; his senses are better than mine, and I can only trust his instinct. I slipped inside, one eye on the street and one on the sea of cans and debris covering the floor. Nothing useful, of course. Just old expired packages and the stench of death. But something is better than nothing. I found a couple of cans still sealed, dented but intact. I hurried to grab them. Lucky followed me without making a sound, as if he knew the slightest noise could attract trouble.The problem was getting out. I had just reached the door when I heard a noise, a heavy rustling, like someone dragging a foot behind them. I held my breath and looked towards the entrance. A brain-eater. Just one. It seemed disoriented, its glassy eyes pointed in another direction. Lucky growled softly. My heart started pounding like a drum. I tried to step back, but I bumped into an empty can. It started rolling, clattering noisily. The brain-eater turned suddenly, those dead eyes now fixed on us. Shit!We ran like mad. I stumbled, fell, but got back up immediately. Lucky stayed close to me, almost glued to my leg.
We found shelter in an old laundromat, behind an overturned counter. My heart was pounding in my throat, and the sound of my breath seemed to echo throughout the building. Fortunately, it seems it didn't follow us. Maybe that damn thing was too slow or too stupid to figure out where we went. Lucky looked at me with those big, dark eyes, and for a moment, it seemed like he was smiling at me. I breathed a sigh of relief. We made it… for now.We waited for the sun to go down a bit before continuing on. Every step became harder than the last. My legs are shaking, and Lucky is starting to show signs of fatigue. But we have to keep going. We can't stop now.We managed to find another shelter, an old abandoned warehouse with a few intact doors. It's a small relief, a place where we can at least rest for tonight. There aren't many signs of danger around here. I closed the door behind us and arranged some crates to barricade the entrance. Lucky curled up next to me, his heavy eyelids slowly closing. He's sleeping now. It's the first time I've seen him relaxed since I met him.I need to be careful not to let my guard down. We're alive, but only by a miracle. Tomorrow will be another day. I need to keep looking for supplies, find a way to survive. But tonight… tonight, while Lucky sleeps by my side, I can afford a moment of peace. Maybe there's still hope out there. Maybe.