March 22nd

This is Jimmy Varn and I am staying alive.

I’m leaving this morning. The bike is packed and I am itching to head out. I’m leaving a lot of supplies along with a note to whoever finds it. I’m wishing them luck and urging them to leave the city.

There are more fires. It hasn’t rained in awhile but the water in the streets is higher. I’m going to try to ride the bike on the sidewalks but even that is going to get messy. It is going to be a bitch to get out of here but it has to be done.

I am going south. It won’t be as cold and with spring coming, I hopefully will not freeze to death as easily. I’ll start with Florida and shit, I might even go to Orlando and check out Disney. I imagine a lot of survivors will head there. Why not?

If you are reading this, go look for others. Watch out for zombies and assholes.

Stay alive.

March 21st

This is Jimmy Varn and I want to stay alive.

The burning building collapsed last night. It was incredibly loud. The loud crash was followed by a louder moan as every damn zombie in the city got excited. It sounded an awful lot like cheering.

Something is going on the minds of zombies. They can be stupid, like watching a dead television or trying to climb a tree for hours, but they are still thinking. They don’t seem that drawn to noise but they remember things from when they are alive. Annie remembered where she once lived, Little Joe remembered toys and those two gangs I saw fighting remembered what ever prejudices drove them.

Something makes zombies form parades. Something makes them head to a fire. Something makes them attack people. Movies and stories make us just accept zombies and their killer behavior but now I wonder. When I hear their moan at the sound of a building collapsing, I can’t help feel they are more than mindless killers. I suspect they can think and maybe their relentless attacks come from an urge to have us join them in death.

I spent all day trying to think of a way to save Atlanta. I thought about relocating far away from the fires in downtown. Late last night, after I finished off my last beer, I had this plan to set up traps and then light a big fire to draw all the zombies in and kill them.

The morning hangover brought better clarity. Atlanta is fucked. A man wasn’t meant to live in a city alone. A man isn’t meant to be surrounded by monsters.

But I am not really surrounded, am I? I’m locked away in Home Base II. I sit here and blog while the city dies around me. The only reason Crystal entered my life is because she choose to. I was passive in her coming, and had nothing to do with her leaving.

I am safer here in Home Base II, but then again, this place can die just as easily as Home Base I. It all depends on the zombies. It all depends on the flooding street sewage and the fire that is on the horizon. There is only so much I can do here by myself.

I thought about suicide. I could easily shoot myself in the head. It would be easy and this nightmare would be over. Who knows if Baby Jesus is waiting for me, but it has to be better than eating one more damn can of lima beans. Seriously, how much worse can Hell be than here?

The funny thing is, I don’t want to die. I have seen the corpses of so many survivors that it is turning into a pride thing for me. I have lived. I escaped a bookstore filled with assholes, got taken in by assholes who wanted to turn me into their fuck slave, survived two zombies parades, survived a damn arrow to the shoulder and survived a woman stealing my shit and breaking my heart. I have lived and I keep surviving. I have a shit load to be proud of and I will be damned if I just give up now.

Once I decided I wanted to live, things became easier to think through. Atlanta is dying fast. Crystal’s method of living from house to house is not ideal, but I can see how it would work. I certainly relocated to Home Base II rather easily. I have experience with surviving, and they will help. I also have guns, food and a bike. I can do it.

And if I leave Home Base II and go traveling, I can meet other people. I can meet more Wal-Mart assholes, but I can also meet people like me. I can’t be the last nice guy alive. There has to be someone out there looking for a partner. There has to be other women than Crystal.

I’m logging off to really think about this. I’m also having the biggest meal yet because it might be awhile before I have the luxury of a fireplace. Beef stew, green beans and even some French onion soup.

March 20th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

I can’t believe this shit but now I have three problems. The rain stopped and judging from the smoke, some of the fires are still going. Even from here I can see the outline of a tall building on fire. I have no idea if it is one of those big ass commercial buildings or a residential, but it is burning like a torch now.

That big giant fire is acting like a beacon to the zombies. I counted fifty zombies on the street, heading downtown, before I stopped counting. It is not zombie parade thick, but it makes me worry that it could get there.

The third problem is that the rain brought back the flooding. The streets are filling up again and I can’t exactly go out there and clear it up. The water looks worse this time. The filth is pretty nasty. It is either picking up all the garbage that has accumulated or Hell, it could be from the zombies themselves. A walking rotting body leaves shit every where.

It is a cesspit out there. Outside smells like the basement of Home Base I when I was shitting inside. For all I know, a water treatment area might have exploded. Maybe it is just the entropy of a dead city. Whatever the reason, it is fucking nasty out there.

If it rains, it might help the fire but it will cause more flooding. If it stops raining, the flood might stop and the fire will burn us all.

No matter what happens, the fucking zombies will still be there.

I need a plan. As the only living human I know who is not chaining zombies in a Wal-Mart, it is going to be up to me to save the city of Atlanta.

Logging off.

March 19th

This is Jimmy Varn and I think everything will be okay.

It’s been raining today. Sweet glorious fire killing rain started last night and into the morning. I still see smoke but maybe it is just smoldering. I don’t care, as long as the fire is out, I don’t have to leave Home Base II

The rain seamed to stop the zombies homing in on the fire. I felt confident enough to go out and raid a couple of houses to resupply. I didn’t find much food, but I grabbed every rug, comforter or thick blanket I could. I put them all on the floor so maybe it won’t freeze so much in here.

I also enjoyed shooting some fucking zombies. Watching them kill those theater people had made me feel really helpless. Putting a few bullets into the skulls of slow moving targets made me feel a lot better. I killed about twenty of the fuckers from my front porch.

I think I may be heavily desensitized. I blew away a teenager zombie. She was barely thirteen and wearing a Jonas Brothers jacket. No hesitation, I just blew her away. It might make me a better zombie killer but I might be less of a person. Oh well, their fucking loss.

Granted, I have no proof the fires have stopped but I have to be optimistic. The thought of leaving was so damn depressing. I don’t want to go anywhere. I worked too hard for all the shit I have. Fuck, I took an arrow for the things I have. This is my home.

I am starting to get really pissed at how I only seem to find other people after they die. I need a way to let people know I am here. I need a way to get in touch with people like the Figs, and not with the crazies at Wal-mart.

Heh, I should take out a personal ad.

I do wonder if I could do my own radio broadcast. I have no idea how to do such a thing, but I bet I could learn. I know I check the radio every day, I’m sure other people are too. It might be the best way to find people. At least find them before they get killed.

Oh fuck, I am turning into Will Smith. All I need is a dog and Bob Marley music.

March 18th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

The fire continues and the smoke is getting pretty damn thick. Zombies don’t mind. They keep stomping towards the bright lights at night. I don’t have a zombie parade, I got more of a zombie high traffic crossing.

There is nothing like the billowing black clouds of death in the morning to make you start thinking about your evacuating plans.

So I got my bike. I realized I needed to slap on some baskets or bags so I can carry more stuff. Well, Chuck and Annie’s stockpile of bondage gear came to the rescue. I have enough rope and straps to make some attachments to the bike. Right now I am strapping plastic containers I found at the Figs’ house. Jennifer was one Hell of an organizer. I should really bury her in thanks.

Shit, wait long enough and they will get cremated.

I am not sure about food. Carrying cans is not an option. I thought about opening cans and transferring food to ziplock bags to be eaten later but I don’t know. It occurred to me that I could forage on the run like Crystal does but that doesn’t appeal to me at all. Looks like I might not have a choice.

What I really need is some ramen noodles. I could eat them on the go and they weigh nothing. All I have to do is hit the grocery store. It can’t be nearly as bad as the Wal-Mart, right?

I can see it now: I get myself killed looting to get ready to escape the fire. Maybe I should just pack my bike with things I already have.

The sleeping bag is the big debate. That fucker is bulky. On the other hand, if I am caught outside, I might freeze to death without it.

How much water do you carry on the run? The answer is never enough. Water is the heaviest thing I can carry outside of guns and I can’t imagine leaving the house without ten gallons. I can’t fucking carry ten gallons so it is looking like one gallon is my limit.

The more I think about it, the less I want to go. Leaving Home Base II with such meager supplies will be a death sentence. I’m still working on the escape bike though. If the fire gets too close, the zombies will make it impossible to ride out of here. I rather go out with pathetic supplies than wait and sit here to die.

Got work to do.

March 17th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

The city of Atlanta is not doing so well. The fire continues. Zombies are drawn to the noise and smoke. I’ve been watching stragglers all day come down the street, headed for the smoke downtown. It makes me a little paranoid about my chimney but so far none of the zombies seem to notice me.

Last night the fires lit up the overcast sky so much that I thought the street lamps were working again.

It is very strange to be in such a dangerous place with no where to check for information. The radio is static, the television is static and websites are quiet. I keep wanting a freaked out weatherman to explain to me how the wind patterns are going to drive the flames towards my area and kill me.

What is odd is I feel this urge of responsibility. Like I should get out there and put it out myself. I start thinking about hijacking a fire engine and then I start thinking about driving through a crowd of fire attracted zombies.

Seriously, why is the fire attracting so many zombies? I wish I could get close enough to the zombies to see if they are attracted to the point of getting burned up. This kind of information would be important. Maybe the way to kill all the zombies is to have massive bonfires.

I think about these things because I don’t want to think about what I do if the fire gets too close to Home Base II. I just set up here, I don’t want to abandon it. How far would I have to move? How long can Atlanta keep burning?

I’m seriously thinking that I might need to evacuate. Evacuate to where is a damn good question. I can’t carry that much myself. The bike isn’t really made for transporting things. Shit, I could never take enough.

What would Crystal do? I wished I had asked her more about her nomad life. I could really use some fucking tips about now.

Of course, leaving would mean leaving the blog behind. I am not sure about that. It would feel like I lost my last connection to the world. I don’t know if I can do that willingly.

Ha, the fire might not give me a choice.

March 16

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

I checked out the fire and it was worse than I thought. Yes, it was a fire. A theater was burning and it was fucking choked with zombies.

It also had some people. I could hear the firearms as I rode closer. It was the farthest I have ever ridden away from Home Base II and I was nervous as fuck. The gunshots scared me, but there was so many I knew they must be in trouble. I pedaled faster and hoped they wouldn’t shoot at me.

I’m rambling because I am really upset. The outside of a theater movie looked like a horror movie. Zombies were swarming the place and making it impossible for anyone to get out. There were easily a hundred zombies. It is the biggest group I have seen outside of a parade. Fuck, maybe this is how parades get started.

I saw some of the people inside. They were on the roof and they were shooting downwards at the zombies. Well some of them were, a lot of them were just running around freaking out.

I didn’t have a rifle so I couldn’t use a scope to check it out. I really wished I had some binoculars. The people on the rooftop were up to something but I don’t know what. The smoke pouring out the theater was pretty severe. Not that it was stopping the zombies from pushing in. Zombies apparently don’t give a fuck about fire.

It is really hard to watch a disaster play out in front of you. I kept trying to think of a way to help but fuck, no one had enough bullets to kill that many zombies. I thought about making a distraction but I had nothing. Start another fire? Yell and ride away fast?

The theater decided it for me. With a terrible noise, the roof collapsed. All of the people running around either tumbled inwards or they tumbled into the zombie crowd. The theater blazed in flames and the zombies ate any of the poor bastards that they can.

I came right back home. I haven’t left Home Base II since except to take shits. God damn, there were a lot of people there. Twenty of them? Thirty? They were people I could have lived with. Talked to. They could have been friends.

Now they are all dead.

And I am still alive. I’m jealous of the company they had, but not of their fate. Shit, maybe I am better off living by myself.

Comfort food for lunch today. I am microwaving a cup of instant macaroni and cheese. I hate to use the gas for the microwave but I need it. I need to snap out of this funk.

March 15th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

The rain stopped but the water draining continues. Every street is a river. The ground outside is muddy and I really wish I could shower. Oh God, it stinks too.

Not wanting to go far from Home Base II, I have been foraging the houses around me. They were off my search grid so they are technically virgin lands.

It is almost a bad thing. Finding completely rotten food sucks. I’m even finding bad food in freezers that haven’t opened in months. I think I might have to start getting used to an all canned food diet.

One of the homes was so dead empty of food that I realized a survivor must have lived there. Bags of garbage were stacked in the lawn, filled with empty cans and boxes of all kinds. Yeah, I went through his garbage. I am curious how the other survivors tried to live.

This guy, I’m guessing guy by the number of spaghetti cans, seemed to have eaten his house completely empty. I checked the houses next to it and they have some cans of food. That means he never looted his neighbors. Did he not loot at all?

His car is missing, so I am guessing he made a run for it. Well, once less person on my burial detail. I wonder where the fuck he went.

His house was empty of supplies but I got luckier with some of the other houses. I found a complete first aid kit which made me smile for hours. My spices are all healthy restocked. I don’t know if I could live without onion powder at this point. I found more painkillers which is always good. My shoulder only aches a little now, but if I get hurt again I’ll be okay.

On my way back to Home Base II, I saw something. There was smoke in the sky. You know, I kept staring at it because I knew it was odd, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Took me awhile to realize that smoke means fire, which means someone might be out there trying to keep warm too.

Either that or Atlanta is burning a second time.

I should go check it out. The streets are flooded though and I don’t like the idea of splashing through it on my bike. I also don’t want to know if there is a fire. There isn’t anything I can do about it except worry. I have enough of that.

Fuck, it could also be people. Damn it. I shouldn’t put this off.

Logging off to go investigate.

March 14

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

I might need to consider building an ark if I want to stay that way. The street is filled with water streaming towards God only knows where. I went outside and cleared some of the street gutters if you can believe it. It seemed to help but the overall water volume is so much.

I might actually need to go up and down the street, clearing drainage gutters. I would be more willing if the visibility wasn’t so shitty. One zombie got within ten feet before I saw him. I shot him with no problem, but the whole experience made me jumpy. It is impossible to hear anything out there.

On the other hand, the water flow is lapping over the street edge and into my lawn. I never thought I would get fucking flooded out during a zombie crisis. Shit, I never thought I would be clearing gutters in an apocalypse.

I sure could use a second person’s help right about now. One could keep watch while the other cleaned. Of course, if Crystal was here, I would rather be fucking in front of the fireplace then outside in the cold.

I have to admit, I am a little afraid of spending too much time in the rain. I keep picturing myself hunting zombies with a runny nose and a cold. I never scavenged a rain coat which is looking to be a big mistake. I’m going to raid the houses next door and see if I can find one after lunch.

There is another reason I want to stay inside. About twenty minutes ago I saw eight zombies walking together down the street. They kept slipping in the rain but they kept at it. I was tempted to shoot them but I am being much more conservative with my ammo. I don’t want to have to go to another Wal-Mart scenario to find bullets

I was worried that they were part of a parade but they seemed to be alone. In the rain it was hard to see any details, but they didn’t share any characteristics that I could see. Half were men, and three of the women were really fat. They were too old to be a gang, but maybe they were coworkers.

What was odd is that when one fell, the others would wait for it to get up. They didn’t the help the fallen zombie, but they were waiting for it. They moved like a pack, and my videogame experience noticed that they were fanned out in a decent spread. Shit, I would have been proud to play with a group with that kind of dispersion.

This is not behavior I like to see in things trying to kill me.

Logging off to eat my very nutritious Spam with cream of mushroom gravy.

March 13th

This is Jimmy Varn and it is storming like a motherfuck.

It started to pour down this morning while I was at the Figs. I started to worry that I needed to get back to Home Base II to collect water, but I realized I had everything set up the day after I moved. Plus I have so much bottled water that I think I can take it easy.

Since I didn’t want to go out in the storm, I stayed at the Figs and killed time. I had come back several times to loot it but that was always on a strict time schedule. Now I could afford to sit there and really take a look at the place.

That is the excuse I am making for just now noticing they had a hand crank radio. It has a big red cross on it, and I think it is some sort of official disaster radio. I look so hard for food and water that I didn’t notice it till I sat on their couch. It was on the floor, sitting beside some magazines.

Apparently all you need to do is crank it if you run out of power. It took a bit of work but I got it charged and running. I flipped through the stations and there was nothing. I hadn’t checked the radio in ages. Obviously it wasn’t much use to the Figs either, but I should pay better attention. You never know.

The storm is vicious. Lightning like I haven’t seen since before Hell Day. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about power going out. It is raining in buckets too. It is a little scary but deep down I am hoping it washes away all of the zombies. I bet the fuckers can’t swim.

Listening to the lightning strikes is pretty terrifying though. I was itching to get back to Home Base II but watching the lightning kept me inside. I don’t know if it is because the city is empty, but the strikes sound so much louder than I remember them being. Each peel of thunder sounds like it is one story above me.

The rain never stopped, but the lightning paused so I made a break for it. I pedaled my ass as fast as possible. I was soaked and I nearly hydroplaned on a bike which is something I never want to do again. Still, I got home which was the good part.

The bad part was that I saw a lot of streets weren’t draining water. Gutters were clogged and the water has to go somewhere. I hope that is just normal for this area and not indicative of flooding. Like I don’t have enough problems.

Hardwood floors are fucking cold when you are dripping wet. I swear, I am thinking of looting a rug store.

Excuse me while I eat a ridiculously decadent meal of the last steak.

March 12th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

The house I found yesterday belonged to Randy and Jennifer Figs. Jennifer kept a diary which I spent most of last night reading. Jennifer worried about her husband looking at other women, whether she will get cancer like her mother and why she keeps getting passed over for a promotion at work. She barely writes four pages about zombies during the three week period after Hell Day.

A group of people barely survived for three weeks. I am on month three.

What she does write about is arguing with her sister who came in with her husband. I see some other names, but I can’t figure out who they were. Mostly Jennifer writes about trying to manage so many people in the same house. There is a whole page about sleeping arrangements and another page about her husband Randy flirting with someone named Natalie.

I tell you, Jennifer sounds like people were driving her crazy, but I would gladly have swapped places with her. Arguing with people over how many times to flush the toilet is a lot better than sleeping alone every night. God, the idea of living with multiple women in the house sounds like heaven.

Then again, I don’t have to argue with anyone when I want to have double cans of baked beans. Jennifer writes about a fight she had over food rationing. She talks about locking the chocolate up. Fuck, I would have to hurt someone if they broke my rationing rules.

I have no idea how they died. People don’t get a chance to put their death in their diary.

My bigger concern is burying them. That is a shit load of bodies. I doubt my back could take it. I know I can skip burying them but it nags at me. I want someone to bury me and I doubt that will happen. I want to do the same for them. Fuck, I am missing people so much; I want to be friendly with them even when they are dead before I get to know them.

I’ll come up with something while I am eating lunch. The Figs were saving two steaks in their basement freezer and I am eating one of them today.

March 11th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

I took the bike out for a spin this morning. I loved being mobile again. I am getting braver when it comes to leaving my area. In fact, I got a little lost at one point so I will have to look out for that.

There was a house that was barricaded pretty well. It looked just like a videogame with the windows boarded up and a makeshift fence around the porch. I got real excited till I saw the door was wide open. That is never a good sign.

I was expecting zombies inside but I wasn’t expecting these kinds of zombies. They were prepared.

One zombie attacked me as soon as I stepped in. The smell warned me and I was already moving back when he lunged. The fucker was a mess. He had a ragged beard, dirty clothes and a wicked hand ax. The guy looked like a survivor. He was clutching the ax though he didn’t use it much.

I shot him once. Hard to miss at this close of range.

The house was filled with them but they acted all weird. I found two more male zombies in the living room, armed with a bat and a shovel. They weren’t watching tv, they were behind a couch that was over turned. Dead zombies were on the floor with their heads caved in. I will never know if the living room zombies killed the floor zombies when they were alive or dead.

Three shots took care of them. I saw another zombie in the dining room just watching me. He had another shovel. He was waiting for me to come to him. I shot him instead.

I won’t bore you with the details. Two more zombies in the kitchen and a total of four zombies upstairs in the bedrooms. The four upstairs were women. They were sad pathetic looking things. They had chair legs as weapons. It didn’t stop the zombies that killed them and it didn’t stop me from shooting them.

It was an easy story to read. These people had holed up here and made a pretty crowded life for themselves. They had melee weapons but no guns. The zombies came through the open front door, which I don’t understand why it wasn’t closed. Maybe someone went out?

I feel like a bastard for saying this, but the shelters of dead survivors makes for the best loot. They were low on food but fuck, they had a lot of bottled water. I can slack off my purifying for a while. In fact, I will have to take the wheel barrow after lunch to get it all.

I’m going to finish this can of black eyed peas and get my ass back there.

March 10th

This is Jimmy Varn and my ass is still alive.

Wal-Mart was even creepier than I first thought. I am never going back there.

The first thing I did was head towards the pharmacy so I can get all their antibiotics. I could hear zombies moaning so I went real slowly. I figured since I killed Bow Guy, the place would be an open house.

The pharmacy was wiped clean. I mean absolutely empty. There wasn’t a single pill of anything left. I was disappointed but not surprised. I feel bad for anyone trying to survive the apocalypse with a pre-existing condition.

On a whim, I decided to check on the corpse of Bow Guy. The blood spatter was there, but the body was gone. At first I thought he might have reanimated but I shot the bastard through the skull. It took me a minute, but I realized someone else must have cleared the body.

Fuck. He must have had friends.

I stopped fucking around. I tried to go straight to where the bikes would be. Of course, being a fucking Wal-Mart, it was not easy to navigate around with all the lights on much less by flashlight. The dead zombies and dead people littering the floor were awful.

By accident I came across the gun section. The place was empty of weapons which was not a big surprise. It had plenty of bodies. Judging from the blood, bullets holes and carnage, it looked like this had been the scene of one nasty ass gun battle. People killed people here.

It was around there that I found my first zombie. As I took aim, I noticed the zombie was making no move to come at me. I studied him and saw why.

Someone had chained him to the floor. Shit. I don’t know if he was supposed to be some sort of a guard dog, or if he was just around to make that moaning noise. I decided against shooting him. I might need my ammo.

I came across three more chained zombies before I finally found some fucking bikes. How the hell did they manage to chain zombies? The question bothered me so much that I stopped to really examine one.

The zombie had a gun shot in his leg, with a lot of blood on his pants. I think he was chained up when he was alive, and then killed to be a zombie.

Sick shit.

I found the bikes and I am not ashamed to say I grabbed the first half way decent one that was my size. Funny how the guns, ammo, beer and drugs were all gone, but the bike area looked untouched. These bikes weren’t even chained. The hardest part was finding a box to stand on so I could get the fucker down from the high shelf it was on.

I did smile at the sign asking that customers ask for assistance for reaching items. No fucking thank you.

So yeah, I got my bike and rode it the way home. I pedaled my ass as fast as I could. I don’t know where the freaks living in Wal-Mart were staying. Maybe they had fortified the back storage area. Shit, there might be a whole community of freaks living there but I will never find out.

Fuck them.

March 9th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Sore as fuck, but I am alive. You know, it really pisses me off that the thing that has done the most damage to me so far has been a fucking survivor and not a zombie. George Romero would be wagging his finger at me.

I hope George is alive. The guy taught us so much.

I’ve been wood gathering. Not easy to chop wood with one hand, so mostly I gather branches and break them up. It makes me feel like a pioneer, let me tell you. After sleeping on the futon for a few hours and getting a cramp in my back, I am tempted to use it for firewood.

My water is starting to get low. I set up a few containers near rain gutters. I just need to get some rain.

You know, I think I am stalling a bit. All this maintenance is important for my survival, but it is also keeping me too busy to go to Wal-Mart. Sometimes when I think about going back, I start shaking. That place was a dark cavern and I’ve already bled there once. Shit, a lot of people have died there from what I saw of the bodies. I have a bad feeling a lot of survivors fought over that place right after Hell Day.

On the other hand, I don’t know of any other stories near by that has everything I need. I need a bike, and I would love some camping supplies. A new sleeping bag would rock. I don’t want to kill any more people but damn it, I won’t be the one to shoot first.

I thought about waiting till my shoulder was feeling normal again but who knows when the fuck that would be.

It has been a weird experience, getting hurt. I find myself spending most of my day hating that asshole with the bow. I keep daydreaming about ways that I avoid getting shot and manage to kill him back. I spend way too much time imagining that he has friends and how I will defeat them. Shit, I don’t spend this much time thinking about the zombies but I am obsessed with the Wal-Mart killers. I want to hurt them.

Tomorrow I’m going for the bike. Maybe the place will be deserted and BowGuy was the only one there. If someone is there and has a problem with me taking a bike, I don’t intend to get shot a second time.

Signing off.

March 8th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

I keep dreaming about that asshole with the bow. I have killed hundreds of zombies but a live human is different.

You know, I have seen this in movies and I always call bullshit on it. The asshole was trying to kill me and I got him first. He didn’t say hello, or ask where I was from. He just shot at me and kept shooting and trying to kill me. In the movies, the hero gets all depressed and I sit there wondering what the fuck his problem is.

I think my problem is that I wanted to kill him some kind of bad. My shoulder was hurting and the fact that he was talking to me while he was trying to kill me. Fuck. I was so angry; I didn’t think twice when I fired. I didn’t hesitate because he was threatening me.

I wonder if it was the same for him. I wonder if he saw me with my wheelbarrow and just decided to kill me to protect his stuff. If someone broke into my house and weren’t a hot chick like Crystal, would I treat them the same?

I also never did get a bicycle.

I did get a lot of food and my shoulder is hurting bad enough that I have all the excuses in the world for not going back. Wal-Mart is a fucking warzone and maybe I should stay out of it. But you know, fuck that. I want my damn bike.

As for my shoulder, it is doing okay I guess. It was my left shoulder, so that’s a small blessing. At least I can still cook, shoot and masturbate with my right hand. I honestly don’t know what to do with it except I change the gauze pad every day and re-treat it with antibiotic cream. I also take a fuckload of painkillers.

If it becomes infected or I need surgery, I am fucked. I hate to die of a slow infection. I might go back to the Wal-Mart just to hit the pharmacy.

Home Base II is coming along nicely. The lack of furniture takes a little getting used to. A futon is no substitute for a couch. If I had one more person, I would haul a couch from another house.

Hell, if I had one more person I could sit my hurt shoulder down and let someone else cook meals.

I need more firewood. I’ll go scrounge some around here tomorrow.

Off to eat. I’m having some canned tuna with capers.

March 7th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

My shoulder feels better but I still feel bad. Like I said yesterday, I returned fire. I don’t think the fucker knew I had guns. I fired in an arc towards where I thought he was. It was in the direction of a bunch of clothing racks, so it’s not like he had cover. It was a solid arc of fast steady shots. Any other occasion and I would have been proud of myself.

After I was done, I waited to hear something. All I heard were zombie moans.

Waiting in the dark, waiting for another arrow, is an awful experience. The arrow was in my shoulder, but not all the way in. I pulled it out and tried not to cry.

I cried.

After awhile, I realized that my sobs should have drawn him to me. I decided to go look for him.

He was dead of course. I caught him right in the head even though I was aiming chest height. He must have been squatting. Asshole.

I took a look at him. He was an older guy, maybe in his fifties. He was equipped with a fucking crossbow. What a badass weapon. If we had met, I would have talked his ear off about it. Did he pick it because it was silent?

Instead I just had another corpse. Asshole.

I walked over to the pharmacy section because it was in sight. The aisles were empty but I did find a box of bandages stuck in the back. I wrapped my shoulder the best I could.

You know, I couldn’t leave that wheelbarrow behind. I thought about taking a shopping cart but the sound would have been horrendous. I just couldn’t leave the cans behind. I paid for them in blood. I was also too afraid to come back here.

What I ended up doing was grabbing this thing that the employees use to move pallets around. I don’t know what it is called, but it is shaped like a fork on wheels. If you pump the handle, it lifts the fork legs up. I put the wheel barrow on an empty pallet and jacked it up with the push lift.

I dragged that pallet all the way home. I still don’t know how I did it. When I got home, I locked up and crashed.

Thank sweet baby Jesus for that medical collection the Screamers gathered. I took some antibiotics and cleaned my wound as best I could. I took some codeine and I have been taking it easy.

I keep dreaming about that Wal-Mart bastard.

March 6th

This is Jimmy Varn, and I am still alive but hurting pretty bad.

I got back late from my Wal-Mart trip. I was pretty messed up. I downed a lot of painkillers and slept. And dreamed. And woke up screaming a few times. Shit.

So, the Wal-Mart was where I expected it to be. I carried the wheelbarrow all the way there and tried not to think about the return trip. Ha, I had no idea what the return trip would be like.

I should have known better when I saw the outside. It was a fucking massacre in the parking lot. The bodies were thick on the ground. It took me awhile just to push my wheelbarrow up to the doors. I worried that they might have been shot by survivors inside, but the corpses were a mix of having been eaten and having been shot. Quite a few of them were just bludgeoned. I’m not fucking CSI, I couldn’t tell what had killed them.

The inside was just as dark as I suspected. Navigating by flashlight was scary as shit. You never have enough light, even when you are pointing it right at something. Spinning the flashlight around on things that make noise just makes you blind as you try to follow the light.

And there were noises. I could hear the moans of zombies. I couldn’t see them, but inside that Wal-mart I could certainly hear them.

Even from the front I could tell this place had seen a war. There were a lot of bullets, and a lot of physical violence. I have bashed enough skull brains to know when zombies had been taken out by brute force. What I couldn’t get over is how many dead there were. I had shot zombies outside Home Base for weeks and it was a puddle compared to the lake of the dead that was there.

I started with the food. I went to the grocery side and began taking stock. A lot of it was cleared out, but not everything. The frozen foods were thawed and rotten but I stocked up on cans. The inside was creepy but gathering food perked me up. Having a choice in soups delighted me more than I would ever guess.

I was trying not to make any noise. Sound echoed pretty bad in there. I was trying to be quiet and I guess I wasn’t quiet enough.

There was a strange whistling noise that I heard for just a second before pain exploded in my shoulder. I half spun in pure shock at the pain. It burned like fire. I instantly thought I had been shot with a bullet, so I was really confused when I saw I had a goddamn arrow in my shoulder. I stared at it and wondered what the fuck it was.

I heard the whistling sound again and I dropped to the ground. Another arrow lodged itself in a big can of Crisco above me. My brain spent a second thinking that maybe I should add Crisco to the list.

My shoulder flared with pain and I got my brain working right.

“Quit shooting!” I yelled. “I’m not a zombie!”

“I don’t care!” someone yelled back.

An arrow lodged itself in the wheelbarrow.

I got pissed. I meet another survivor and they are all Ted Nugent on me.

I fired back. I couldn’t tell where they were, but judging from the angle of the arrows, I had a good guess. The arrow was killing my shoulder, but I was pissed.

My lunch is done. I’m having two cans of Beefaroni seasoned heavily with garlic powder.

March 4th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Turning on the college students’ computers was a bust. Other than many gigs of porn, they had nothing. Their Outlook was crammed with Spam and that was it. That chilled me. No e-mails from friends, family or coworkers. Fuck.

It has me thinking about what it is going to fucking take to find some people. I am thinking about taking a field trip into the city. Leave my neighborhood and really go have a look around. I want to scout shit out.

If I do it on foot, I would need to find places to stay overnight. I know that is what Crystal does but I am not that brave. It won’t be like a game where all I have to do is make it into a safe zone.

Which means I need a vehicle. I’ve kept my eye out for bicycles but haven’t had any luck. I thought for sure I would run across another one by now. It makes me wonder if someone else is out there grabbing bikes. I just hope it isn’t armed fuckers who kill live people.

I have a plan and it is a shitty one. I was feeding some junk mail into the fire when I came across a Wal-Mart ad. It listed the address of the Wal-Mart and I am pretty sure that is real close to here. Atlanta is such a fucking hilly city, I could have passed it a million times and never notice it because it was downhill from me.

I think I am going to take a little field trip there tomorrow morning. I should be able to find a bike, not to mention camping gear and other shit. Now, I am also expecting a fucking lot of zombies but I haven’t run into a problem with zombies yet. As long as I have enough ammo, I can plug those bastards all day long.

The place is going to be dark so I am strapping on flashlights to my guns. It works in videogames, let’s see how it works in real life.

I am pretty excited. I keep thinking about what might be there. I can get more clean clothes easy. There might be more food than I can eat. I am actually making a loot list so I don’t forget everything, though I expect I will make more than one trip.

Today’s lunch is pan fried fish sticks. Hopefully tomorrow I will be eating real meat.

March 3rd

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

This is going to sound crazy, but I was a little depressed this morning and I wasn’t sure why. As I was checking the houses near me, it dawned on me what was wrong. It was Little Joe. I hadn’t seen the kid zombie since the zombie parade and I think I miss him.

I need to find someone alive to talk to.

Especially on a day like today. I found some fucked up shit in one of the houses. I found an entire family slaughtered. The dad was killed in the living room. The mom was dead in the kitchen and the teenage boy was dead on the staircase. No big deal right? I have seen this a bunch of times.

Nope, this was different because it wasn’t zombies that got them. There was bullet holes in the walls and in the bodies. These people weren’t zombies when they were shot. Someone shot their asses. That same someone took all their canned food too.

What got me was that it looked like they ransacked the bedroom and stole jewelry too. That is depressing. Not only is some dumbass killing people, but they were dumb enough to steal something really unimportant like valuables.

On the other hand, I doubt such a dumbass would still be alive.

Here is the part where I need to talk to someone. I’m not going to bury these people. I feel like I should but burying is a lot of hard work. The fact of the matter is I just don’t want to.

I think in a weird way, I don’t want to because it looks like they were killed when this shit just started. These aren’t survivors. These people were not holed up praying that the living dead will walk on by. I know their deaths were horrible and tragic, but I don’t feel empathy for them. They are not survivors like Corbin or the Screamers.

I am not sure if this makes me a bad person.

I’m going back to work.

March 2nd

This is Jimmy Varn and I am alive in Home Base II.

It feels good to be working again. I have energy to burn. I just wish I had some fucking help. There is so much to do and I don’t get tired as much as I get sore.

Let me also tell you that last night was the best sleep I have gotten in ages. A fireplace and a sleeping bag are all I need. That and maybe a lack of a zombie parade outside.

I have loaded the shit out of the wheelbarrow but it still took me twelve trips this morning. I had to bring the food, the water, the water barrel, the cooking utensils, the guns, the ammo, the porn and anything else I might need.

Moving the gasoline alone was a bitch.

That is not mentioning the little home improvement project where I boarded up the window I broke. I’m thinking of boarding up the other windows too for safety’s sake. My visibility will be cut but I won’t have any repeats of when I got Annie’s attention. I’m still debating it.

Once I bring the stuff in, I need to organize it. I like my cooking supplies laid out so I can see what I have left. I need to lay out my water so I know what needs to be filtered and what has been filtered. I need to set up my sleeping bag so I can sleep in front of the fireplace without catching fire.

I am half-tempted to hook up the TV and Xbox to the generator but I am resisting. It would fun though to play something like a normal human again.

These guys had computers too. I am going to rig some up and see if I can access their e-mail. Maybe one of their contacts has tried to get a hold of them.

I do wonder where these guys are. I found some Georgia Tech stuff so I think they were students. I wonder if they piled into a car and high tailed it out of here. I bet they tried to get back home as soon as possible. I hope they made it.

Shit, I don’t see how. Traffic in Atlanta is horrible on a good day. I would hate to be on 285 during a zombie crisis. If I had to bet, I bet these poor bastards got stuck in traffic and eaten when they tried to get out on foot.

But you know, I just don’t know. I haven’t really been out. I need to go downtown. I need to take a look. I need to get to 285 and see what it is like.

Maybe next week. For now, I got to get Home Base II in order. I need to haul my firewood over here if I want to keep having warm nights.

March 1st

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Yesterday I went looking for another house. It was dangerous work. The parade was gone but there were a lot of zombies lingering. I lost count of how many shots I fired. Man, I went through a lot of ammo. It felt good though. When I close my eyes, I can still hear those gunshots.

My house search went like this. I didn’t bother with any houses where I had kicked the door in, or any houses where zombies had already knocked it in. Considering how much looting I had done, that didn’t leave me a lot of options. I had to go off my loot plan.

So I went down the street two blocks and hung a left. I kept an eye out for places with basements and a chimney. The first place I found had been broken into and I ruled that out. The door was shit and all of the windows were smashed.

The second place I found looked promising. I found a side window I wouldn’t need and smashed through it. I climbed and did a reconnaissance. Shit, I am glad I did.

There were four zombies in the living room, all watching a television that wasn’t on. They were lined up on the couch. I had seen this before but man, it is always creepy. Two parents and two kids, sitting there groaning and rotting.

Shooting them was a mercy killing, but it also made a big mess in the living room. I wasn’t going to be using that house.

Right before dark, I found another good place. I cracked the side window and climbed in like a thief. The place was really sparse. Instead of a couch they had a futon. Bean bags were everywhere, which I didn’t even know they still made. The dining room table was a shitty plastic thing with plastic chairs. They had a nice TV though, and about three different videgame systems.

I laughed when I realized the house must belong to college kids. The only pictures I found were of Maxim models and a big ass poster of Megan Fox.

There were two bedrooms but three beds. The fireplace actually had charred wood in it, so I knew it worked. The kitchen had no food but they had four 12 packs of coke and a case of beer. The basement was empty, which means I can put whatever I want down there. It was a great place.

Unfortunately it was getting late so I didn’t have time to move my stuff. I came back to Home Base and spent the night. I had to sleep in the basement because you know, my door is gone, and fuck the smell down there is bad. I am sure I am going to catch some sort of unhygienic disease here.

So I have spent all of this morning moving things to Home Base II. I moved the generator first, and that was a bitch. The thing is on wheels but it ain’t light. Pushing it and stopping to shoot zombies we come across took forever. I’m posting this and going back to Home Base I to get the rest of my shit.

Plus I got to barricade that window I broke in. I got shit to do.

February 28th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

This morning I pretty much snapped. Either I was used to the zombie moans or it seemed like they were really quiet. The footsteps were still outside, and someone was still knocking on my outside door. But as for the parade, I had the feeling they were gone.

So that is what was going through my mind when I peeked out the basement windows. I saw three zombies in the lawn but I couldn’t see who was banging my door. I decided to go for it.

I swung the outside door open with a pistol in my hand and six in my pockets. It was fucking Annie. I have never been so glad to see a zombie. If I die, she was going first.

One shot to the head took her down. Two more shots kept her down. They weren’t necessary but it felt good.

The zombies in the lawn saw me. They looked huge but I found out later it was just their winter coats. At first I thought I had some fucking linebackers here.

It didn’t matter. I was like a machine. I took aim, fired, and took aim again. Years of playing Team Fortress like a spaz but when it came time to clean zombies, I was an ice cold assassin. I wish I was this good in videogames.

With the lawn zombies dead, I waited in the doorway. If my gunshots were going to draw zombies, I wanted to know now instead of when I was away from the basement. I waited five minutes and man, that was not easy.

No zombies came to investigate the shots.

I walked around front. There were about a dozen zombies hanging around. Everything was trashed again. All the corpses I had been piling up were pulped by the parade. Fences were knocked over and there was even a tree knocked down. The street was a disaster.

I went to work. Nice and slow, I shot zombies. If I missed with a headshot, I went for the leg. Headshots are easier when they are crawling. They all came for me but that was fine. The closer they got, the easier the shot.

One gun jammed on me but other than that I was cool. I had plenty of guns. When they were all dead, I reloaded and went to the front door.

Those bastards had caved in the door. I was already checking the damage on the frame. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fix it. I wasn’t even mad. It just made me eager to start cleaning.

Shooting zombies in a house is different from the street. They are a lot closer and I always get the feeling one of those fuckers will sneak behind me. They were also packed in there pretty tightly. I barely aimed as much as I shot into the crowd and kept firing till no one was left standing.

Fuck, that was just the living room. Home Base was slammed with the undead fuckers. I had to leave the house twice just to reload. I don’t think I have ever fired my gun that much and it felt great. These bastards were in my home and each one of them deserved a bullet.

So yeah, the zombie parade is gone and Home Base is clear of zombies. I’m sitting here in the basement because it is the only place I know right now with working doors. I’m eating a quick lunch of green peas and cold Pepsi and then I am getting to the real work.

I need a new place to live.

February 27th

This is Jimmy Varn and I think I am going to get through this son of a bitch.

I could be horribly wrong, but the moans seem to be quieter. I think we are near the end of the parade. If it is like last time, it will mean a lot of stragglers to clear out but I am ready for it. I want to shoot something. I want to take charge of my life again.

The noise upstairs hasn’t slowed down. I am guessing I have a shit load of zombies up there till I clear them out. The knocking on the outside door is sporadic. It stops for a few hours and then it picks back up. I am really hoping it is Annie. I swear to God, I am finding an Ipod before the next zombie parade.

I tell you one thing; it stinks like shit down here. I have been using ziplock bags and garbage bags but you can only contain the smell of shit so much. Man what I would not give for a flushing toilet. I am really worried I might be making this place into a toxic zone. I would hate to die of dysentery before any zombies have a chance to kill me.

For fun I keep working out my combat plan. I started to name them, plan Alpha, Beta and Gamma, mostly because I have no idea what the Greek letter for ‘C’ is. I practice them in my head and try to come up with contingencies. I am a fucking mastermind of strategy today.

Really it just comes down to how many shots I fire before I run like Hell.

To keep me occupied, I have been browsing online. There seems to be fewer sites up than last time I checked. Yahoo is completely down and I can’t get anything from BoingBoing. You know things have gone to shit when even Wikipedia is completely down. Before I could at least pull up Star Trek trivia, now it doesn’t load at all.

Federal government websites are down too. Only page I did find was for FEMA and it advised everyone to stay indoors, avoid large crowds and conserve water. It was dated December 26th. Fuck. FEMA isn’t coming to save me anytime soon.

What does interest me is that FEMA has officially announced that they don’t know what is going on. Civilians are advised to sit tight. God damn. That is exactly what I am doing and it isn’t working too well.

You know, if I live through this, I might come up with my own survival FAQ. Too bad I don’t know if anyone is actually reading this.

I’m logging off.

February 26th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Things are not so peachy today. The door of the basement that goes outside has a zombie knocking on it. I am not sure, but I bet it is that zombie bitch Annie. It sounds familiar. I am keeping deadly still. Well, I turned the generator on so I could let you know what happened. I don’t want you thinking my great plan went to shit. It would have been great except for this new complication.

Fuck. I am really not ready to die. The knocking started about an hour ago. I am hoping the bitch goes away. I am hoping they don’t close off my one exit.

I thought about going upstairs but I can still hear them walking. Shit, I think they got me this time. All I can hope for is that the outside door zombie gets bored and moves on.

Shit, it seems like I have spent the last week deciding how I want to die. I guess being surrounded by dead people gets you thinking that way. I knew the zombie parade would be exhausting mentally, but I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect Annie to come back to fuck me over.

I think I want to live now mostly out of spite. Realizing what Annie and Chuck had in mind really pisses me off. Now I want to live just to beat them. I also really would like the chance to shoot Chuck. If he is a zombie, that would be just bonus.

You know, if I peeked out the window, I could see if it is Annie. I could see how many there are. I could gauge my chances and make a run for it. Of course, last time I looked out the window, Annie saw me and started this shit. If she, or some other zombie sees me, I might have the whole parade trying to break down the door.

I think I will just sit here.

Sitting, sitting and sitting. I never knew zombie apocalypses were so stagnant. Left4Dead 3 should be six hours of waiting in a shelter. Ha, maybe it should be a Sims game. Sim Zombies, you just keep your house intact as you slowly go crazy.

If I could find some programmers, I would have a hell of a lot of ideas for that game. Best thing is, you could play it while waiting out a zombie parade.

Man, I wish I had brought one of the board games down.

Logging off.

February 25th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Wow, who needs Clive Barker when you have a zombie parade. I read ‘Meat Train’ but it seemed almost quaint. Monsters under the city? Dude, I have monster right above me. One of those fuckers notice the basement door and realize what it is, my ass is grass.

Isolation is doing funny things to my head. I keep checking out the bondage store room. I should avoid all of that crazy shit but I keep checking it out. I can’t look out any of the windows, so I might as well learn how a gimp mask works. It might be important later if Crystal comes back.

I’m kidding. Really.

I think I walk around as much as the zombies do. I pace the basement, looking for a way that I can escape if I have to. I altered the barricade to the outside door so I can move it aside quickly. I also set up some of the bondage rope to use as a net barricade across the upstairs door. There is a gasoline can by the upstairs barricade so I can shoot at it and cause a fire as I escape. That’s the plan at least.

I am not sure when my plans changed from heroic last stand to an escape. Maybe it is my videogame experience. Being in a hopeless situation that had no solution was just too hard to accept. There is a no restart and there is no way to save my game, but deep down I believe there has to be a way out of this shit. I can’t accept that God or Baby Jesus are leaving me here to die in a basement.

So I plan to run. The zombie parade moves left to right but when I saw it last time, they didn’t really break off. If the upstairs zombies find their way down here, I’ll burn them and run. I’ll head into the lawn, run past whatever zombies are there and head at a right angle to the zombie parade. I can jump a fence. I don’t think those zombies can.

Of course, I am betting on the back lawn not being filled with zombies to the point that I can’t run through them. I really wish I had Crystal’s metal bat about now. I’ll make due with this chair leg I have been working on. I got it so sharp that Buffy Summers would have an orgasm looking at it.

I do wish I was smart enough to get a backpack down here. I want to load up on supplies when I run for it. Oh well. I do have a bunch of bondage straps that I have rigged around my belt like a BDSM tool belt. I have three bottles of water, a pouch of snack mix and long knife. I got two guns and a rifle picked out.

Shit, I almost want them to break in. I got a plan.

I’m going to eat now. You never know when it might be my last meal for awhile.

February 24th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am really pissy.

I kept the generator running off and on last night. When I got cold, I turned the space heaters on. I should be rationing the gas more but fuck it. I am pissed. I am tired of being cold.

I keep the guns ready. Every time I turn the generator on, I half want the zombies to notice and invade the basement.

I want Annie in front. I want to kill that bitch first.

I feel all this hatred for her and Chuck. After being alone for so long, it infuriates me that people would look at the apocalypse as a chance to fuck someone over. I keep going back into the room and looking at all that crap. I toy with the idea that maybe Chuck was some sort of secret submissive, but I don’t buy it. There was a reason they kept locking me in my room. They wanted me to get used to the idea.

My sleeping spot is right at the base of the stairs. As soon as they break in, I’ll know.

I am ready for death. It is a weird feeling. Maybe it was Crystal’s betrayal. Maybe it was Chuck and Annie’s perverted storeroom. Maybe I am just fucking sick of hiding. I keep entertaining ideas of how I am going to make my last stand. I am debating setting the gasoline up so they will explode. In videogames, this much gasoline in one place is just dying for an explosion.

I should mention that I haven’t slept much. I fall asleep exhausted but I keep waking up. The zombies are right upstairs and they keep walking. They aren’t quiet up there. It is like being under a major sidewalk. I hear them, and I know they are there at all times. I should sleep but it is so fucking hard when you might wake up to someone gnawing on your head, you know?

Really, I think I am just pissed off at everyone. Where the fuck is the government? CDC is in Atlanta for shit’s sake. You’d think we would hear something. You would think the National Guard would be out looking for people. I am pissed with my coworkers at the bookstore. If they hadn’t of been assholes about letting those poor kids die, I would have stayed with them and not be all alone. I am pissed with Crystal. If she wanted to stay a nomad, I would have fucking gone with her.

God damn all of you. I am tired of sitting in a basement waiting to die. I can’t do it all by myself. Shit, I already purify water, gather food and get gas out of gas stations. I shouldn’t have to die by myself too.

February 23rd

This is Jimmy Varn, and I have no idea why I am still alive.

The zombies keep walking upstairs. I hear things falling over. I imagine they are making a big ass mess of the place. I can’t be sure, but I am betting there are more of them than there was last night. How many zombies can cram into a house? 20? 30? 100?

I though the parade was going to confine me to Home Base. I had no idea it was going to confine me to the basement indefinitely. I’m too afraid to even peek out the basement windows to see how the parade is doing. The last thing I want to do is attract the attention of another zombie.

Here is the really freaky thing. So I had to move a lot of shit around to barricade myself. Well, I moved some boxes and found a fucking door. Remember how I said the basement seemed smaller than it should be? Well it turns out there was a whole other room hidden here.

At first I was excited. I thought it might hold supplies. Fuck, it does, but not anything I could use. Not unless I really wanted to punish Crystal the next time I see her.

The room had all sorts of bondage gear. All of it still in the original packaging like they had never been opened. There was a shit load of chains, a box of leather cuffs and more anal plugs than I ever wanted to see. There were a couple of leather masks and a damn doggy cage big enough for a man to sleep in it. The room was jammed with it. The only thing missing was a person to use them on.

At first I thought it belonged to the owners of the house. The pictures of the couple made them look like nice guys, but you never know what people get up to in the bedroom. But I realized that there was too much of the shit. It was all fresh, like it had been just stolen from a sex store. No one had ever used this stuff.

I realized that these must belong to Chuck and Annie. I also realize that all of this stuff looks like it was made for men.

I think those fuckers meant these things for me. It certainly explains why they were so uncomfortable with me. It also explains why they treated me like a fucking pet.

God damn. The only people willing to help me just wanted to rape my ass. Nice folks.

And now the bitch half of the rape couple is upstairs as a zombie, trying to figure out where her lunch went.

You know, I just want to live through this so I can shoot her ass myself.

Logging off.

February 22nd

This is Jimmy Varn, and I may not be alive for much longer.

Late last night, I heard a hard pounding on the door upstairs. It was a fierce knock, like someone desperate. My first thought was of Crystal. I went upstairs, armed, and peeked out the window.

It was fucking Annie. Remember her? The strange girlfriend of Chuck? It was her, except half her hair was gone and her right side was soaked in blood. She was a fucking zombie.

And she saw me. Man, it was dark with only the moonlight but I could tell it was her and she could tell it was me. She started to really knock on the door then, and worse, she did this freaky moan.

That moan echoed among the other zombies in the parade.

Fuck, my fingers are shaking just thinking about it.

So all these other zombies in the parade decide to come look. Now I have zombies pressing at the windows. I have zombies pressing against the door. Now a lot more fists are pounding, knocking and hammering away.

I thought about shooting through the door. Like maybe if I kill Annie, the others will go away. In Left4Dead it is an easy thing to do. One good rifle shot and it would nail her.

I ran instead. I headed for the basement and locked the door. I barricaded it with everything I had. The whole staircase is full of shit now. I barricaded the door leading outside too. I got just as much shit there now.

I’m buried inside here.

I heard the door break. Upstairs I hear them walking around. Fuck, I thought listening to them moan and stomp outside was bed. Hearing them right above me is fucking awful.

Yet, they haven’t made it to the door. Hard to tell considering how much shit I have between us, but I don’t think they have tried to open the basement door. Maybe I can outlast them.

So I fired up the generator one last time. I need to let people know how I died. It was Annie, ironically one of the people who first introduced me to Home Base, and now she had come back. I bet she had joined the parade, saw Home Base, and remembered it. I bet she wants it back.

I’m curious if the generator will make them want to come down here. Crazy huh? Part of me wants to see if this lures them. If I am going to die, let’s do it now. Come kill me, mother-fuckers!

They don’t seem to notice. I am going to eat my last can of beef stew then. If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know why.

February 21st

This is Jimmy Varn and I am freezing my ass off.

The zombie parade arrived right after dinner last night. Slow ass mother fuckers. The moans got louder and louder till I thought my chest was vibrating from the volume. Then a steady stream of zombies went by the windows and I knew they were here.

Fuck, they are thick this time. I mean, they were thick last time but they seem to be really packed in this time. There are hundreds of them, pushing and shoving to get ahead of each other. Quite a few of them look fucked up. They are missing arms, or splattered in blood or have knives stuck in them. I am not sure if these wounds were what killed them, or injuries they have picked up in the afterlife.

They pressed against the house. There are so many that they fill the street and push into the lawns. I saw some of them walking in the back yard too. It is a solid mass of zombies and the street is the easiest way for them to go, but they are not sticking to it.

I think about the Screamers, and I wonder what they did wrong to gain the attention of the parade. I haven’t thought about it much since that time but I am thinking about it now. If I could figure it out, it might save my life now.

It is cold. I know I say that a lot but the lack of a fireplace is really hurting. I am going to go back to heating up bricks in my toaster over for warmth. I accidentally came across another warming method. For pissing, I have been filling up empty water bottles that are too small to really hold purified water. The bottles are really warm once they are filled with fresh piss. I have been sticking the piss bottles into my sleeping bag while I stay bundled up.

It isn’t pretty but damn if it doesn’t work.

Reading has been harder than I thought. I had forgotten how loud the moans are. It is like having zombies right here inside the basement. It is deafening. I thought about sticking something in my ears to plug the noise, but the thought of voluntarily deafening myself seemed foolish. I might need to hear something. Like if there are any more survivors like the Screamers.

Not that I would know what to do if I did hear survivors. I can’t kill a thousand zombies. I have considered lighting some gasoline and throwing it into the parade, but somehow I think I would just end up with a parade of unloving bastards on fire. Not like there is a fire department in case if does get out of hand.

I’m logging off. A rescue would be awesome right about now.

February 20th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am stubbornly alive.

The Zombie Parade didn’t show up last night but I can hear them. They are close. Already I am seeing a dozen zombies shambling along. I don’t know what these guys are doing so far ahead of the parade. Are they leaders? Is the parade following these jackasses?

One of the zombies was a naked woman. She had long blonde hair, well, what was left of hair. I wondered if she was a stripper. I have to tell you, undead naked women look like Hell, they don’t look like Jenna Jameson.

Well, maybe Jenna Jameson after all her plastic surgery.

I am a little buzzed. I have been drinking wine coolers this morning to keep from freaking out. I had to stop boiling water and that was upsetting. Boiling water made me feel like I was accomplishing something.

The shades are all closed and windows are locked. I brought down every blanket I could find down to the basement. Last time the parade was here, I didn’t have the space heaters I have now. It might eat up more electricity but I don’t want to freeze to death.

The generator is the big question. Last time, they didn’t hear it. If I was smart, I would leave it off during the parade. No sense taking chances, right? The thing is, if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to blog. If I stop blogging, people might think I am dead and not come look for me. If I stop blogging, I might as well be dead. This blog gives me structure in my day. If I didn’t blog at noon, I would sit around and wait to die.

I wish the fuckers would hurry up and get here.

I’m treating myself to a lunch Crystal showed me. Basically you drown Spam in cream of mushroom soup and it doesn’t taste much like Spam at all. Crystal, if you are out there, I am almost willing to forgive you stealing the bike for this recipe.

I have some Clive Barker books that I have been setting aside for this. I plan to spend most of my time reading. There is a little light that comes through the windows. I thought about reading Laymon, he has a Beast series that looks interesting but I don’t know. ‘Island’ gave me such a head trip that I doubt I could survive that during again, not during a parade.

I am temped to run all the way back to the bookstore and grab some more to read. Ha, I should put together an apocalypse reading list. Books that won’t teach you shit, but will keep you from thinking about all the damn undead outside.

My lunch is done. Time to go. See you tomorrow.

February 19th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

So I found some paint yesterday. It was red, which I sort of feel is a terribly unfortunate color. It looks like bright blood. Sigh. I am sure it looked great in someone’s bedroom but not so much on a roof.

Two zombies were out on the street this morning and I shot them both. It is getting hard to walk around the street with all the bodies. Not that it is going to matter tomorrow, but I’m getting to that.

I got a ladder and climbed the roof. I painted in big giant letters, ‘ALIVE’ even though I nearly slipped twice. Funny how I was never fond of height but I got over it when it came time to paint a rescue message.

It was from on the roof that I saw them. Another god damn mother fucking cock sucking zombie parade. They were coming from the same direction that the last zombie parade was heading. It might be the same damn parade for all I know. It was heading here, and I am guessing it might show up sometime tonight.

I can already hear their moans. Sound travels in an empty city.

Fuck, I hope Crystal doesn’t get caught in that shit.

I’m getting ready. I put out the fire in the fireplace which really sucks. I’m moving the food and water into the basement. I’m moving the guns too. I scavenged a lot of garbage bags and bottles since I can’t shit outside. I really don’t want to get into details on that.

Fuck, I say I am getting ready but I can’t get past this sense of depression. The last zombie parade lasted for days. The idea of being trapped in Home Base and not being able to get out really upsets me. That will be a week that no one could rescue me. It is a week that Crystal won’t be coming back. It will be a week where I am not going to fucking find any chocolate chip cookies.

I got shit to do.

February 18th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Man, those gas pumps were a bitch. They wouldn’t work without electricity so I did some poking around. I thought that behind the counter I would find some sort of secret button to press to let the gas flow. I fucking wish.

I found where the gas trucks pump the gas into the underground storage. After fucking round with the latch mechanism, I finally managed to pry that lid off. At one point I had to search the quickie mart for the damn manual, but I got the fucker off. I felt proud of myself.

It would have been fun if it wasn’t for the fucking zombies. Over the course of a couple of hours, four zombies came stumbling by. I really hated firing a gun at a gas station but I didn’t want to fuck around with hand to hand. It bothered me though that so many wandering zombies came by the same place.

I wonder if it is a ‘Dawn of the Dead’ thing. In that movie, zombies came by the hundreds to the abandoned mall because it was important to them in life. Maybe this shitty quickie mart was important to a bunch of snack chomping zombies. I don’t know. It seemed like a lot of traffic for one morning.

I used some gas containers I scavenged from the store to load up on gas and wheelbarrowed them home. I tried to take frequent breaks so I wouldn’t hurt my back again. I am not sure if I am a wimp or if I really messed it up digging those graves, but my back gets sore real easily now.

There was no sign of Crystal anywhere. I guess I didn’t really expect to see her, but I kept an eye out.

There were three zombies on the street on the way home. One of them was so slow and degraded I simply out walked him. One of his legs was really stiff. I wondered if it was a prosthetic. He followed me for awhile but then got distracted by a tipped over mailbox.

The other two zombies I shot with my pistols. I tried getting a little fancy and carried a gun in each hand, Left4Dead style. Yeah that shit didn’t work. My aim was horrible. Holy shit, I need that second hand to hold a pistol steady. After wasting some bullets, I put my left hand gun down and plugged the poor target practice zombie.

Anyway, I got a shitload of gasoline in the basement. I am not sure if it is safe to have that much gasoline in one place but where else am I going to store it?

This afternoon, I am going to search the neighborhood for some paint. Right now I have a delicious lunch of pork and beans that I had been saving.

February 17th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive. And hopefully a little less whiney.

I woke up this morning and I don’t know; but I just had felt I had my shit together. I mean, I have a fireplace; I have more guns than I know what to do with and I got lots of canned food. It might sound odd, but I felt proud this morning. I realized that Crystal did a number on me and stole my shit because I had shit to steal.

I got up and gathered the water from all the other houses with gutters. We had set up six receivers and all of them were full. I emptied them into the big barrel and brought it inside. It is a nice large amount of water and I am pretty pleased. I’m using a fishtank net to strain the larger bits of crap off the water and I am boiling the rest.

I replaced the water containers back at the gutters. If it rains again, I hope to get another large load.

This afternoon I plan to go on the roof and try to spray paint a message. I was thinking of something like ‘Survivor’, but that is a long ass word. I might just paint ‘Help’. I haven’t decided. I just want to put something there. I haven’t seen any helicopters or planes but fuck, if one goes by I don’t want it to pass me.

The thing about Crystal is that she hurt me bad, but she made me realize how badly I have to find people. I can’t just wait for another person to stumble onto me and take my shit. I need to find these people. I need to stay alive and find help. I don’t want to end up like Crystal, living day to day. I have to have a plan. I have to believe I am working toward something.

Which means I need to do a lot more gas siphoning. I am running low again. I was thinking about the quickie mart and the gas pumps. I am not sure if the pumps are running but there has to be a way to get inside them. If I can fill up a wheelbarrow full of gas, I can really build up a stockpile.

I also need to find another bike. Maybe I will chain it up in my house next time instead of just leaving it in the hallway.

I caught myself looking for Crystal when I am outside. I want some sort of explanation. Fuck her. She looted my company like I loot houses for canned food.

Logging off to eat lima beans.

February 16th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Wow, it has been hard. I thought the end of the world was hard. Crystal leaving has been devastating. My appetite is gone which I guess will help save on food. I have no energy and spent most of my night playing games on the DS.

I just don’t give a fuck. All the sex I had with her seems like a dream. The smell of her in house is like a phantom. Granted, that smell was mostly rather stinky, but it was a new smell and I appreciated it.

The water barrels need collecting. Well, only one barrel but the other gutters feed into buckets and large pots. I got one of them today. I have been slowly boiling it clean all morning but I am in so sort of hurry. It is mostly an excuse to sit in front of the fireplace.

I think about kissing her. How hard she would kiss me so that my lip would bruise. I miss that. Numb lips meant I was alive.

I feel dead. I feel hopeless and abandoned. There is no rescue and there is no one commenting on my blog and no one gives a fuck, and when someone does give a fuck, she leaves.

I don’t know. I hurt. I want some chocolate chip cookies but they were stolen. I miss her.

No, maybe I don’t miss Crystal. I miss having someone here. Ok, I miss fucking Crystal, that was awesome. After being alone for so long, sex was like Christmas. But as for missing Crystal specifically, I don’t know. I barely knew her, and just having her here was a reminder that other people exist. The only company I have is zombies and porn magazines.

I am tempted to really go looking for survivors. I’m talking big banners and maybe a bonfire. It might attract zombies but I have to find other survivors. I have to make human contact again. I’ve missed and after having Crystal here for two days, I don’t know how I can live without it again.

Not today though. Today I just want to curl up and watch water boil.

It occurred to me that Crystal came right before Valentine’s Day. I wonder if that was deliberate. I wonder if she just didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day so she hooked up with me. I feel a little used.

I wish she would come back.

February 15th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am alone.

I woke up this morning and Crystal was gone. At first I thought she was outside, using the area I had set aside as the latrine. I checked out the windows and she wasn’t there. I called out to her and searched the whole house. My heart was pounding. Was she dead?

That was when I started to realize some things were missing. Quite a few bottles of water were missing, as well as most of the cans of spaghetti and beef stew. She also took my only fucking can opener so I am not sure what I am going to do about that. One of the smaller coats is gone, as well as some of the toilet paper.

Crystal also took all of the chocolate chip cookies and that is when I started to cry.

Once I got that out of my system, I went to get the bike so I could find her. She took that too. God damn. That bike was the second best thing to happen to me, and she took it. There was no way I could catch up to her.

Why did she leave? I have spent all morning thinking about it. Did I offend her? We had sex last night and I thought it was pretty fantastic. Did I do something wrong?

Did I bother her with all my plans? Did she think I was too bossy?

Fuck, why didn’t she just tell me instead of running off? I would have done anything she wanted. I would have agreed to anything. I only knew her for two days but having her around had made me so happy. Just having someone to talk to was fantastic.

The stealing hurts. I would have given her the stuff. Well, maybe not the cookies but I would have given her more of everything. I sure as fuck would have insisted she learned how to use a gun. She might have stolen some things that I haven’t discovered yet, but the fact that she took anything hurts. I worked hard for all of this shit. It was mine to give her.

I do wonder about all the help she gave me. She worked on those rain gutter barrels longer than I was willing to. Maybe she knew she was leaving soon and wanted to help me as much as she could. Fuck, did she plan to leave me all along?

It hurts that she didn’t even tell me. It hurts that she didn’t say goodbye. It hurts that she left.

How awful a guy must I be if a girl is willing to go out into zombie world rather than stay with me?

Fuck.

February 14th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am glad to be fucking alive.

I am also glad to be fucking but that is another matter.

Crystal and I have been working hard. The rain is still coming and we are still collecting water. She’s been helping me collect water from other hourse rain gutters. I cover her with my guns while she sets it up. Hot damn it is nice to work with a partner.

I explained my plan to loot the neighborhood. Essentially I will scout with my bike and then we will go together with the wheelbarrow. I worked out a schedule that she didn’t really add any input to. I guess she is so used to being a nomad that she isn’t sure how to do it systematically.

You know, I ask her a lot about how she survived. It just seems so incredible. She just carries her backpack with her. No canteen, no sleeping bag and no weapon other than her bat. It just seems insane. She managed to survive by staying light I guess.

Crystal also told me about the zombie parade. She says in downtown Atlanta it is even worse. She saw two parades cross at an intersection and they kept going. Some broke off from their original parade and joined the new one. She said she was hiding in a high rise apartment when it happened and was stuck for two weeks.

I asked her about downtown. I mean, how the fuck was she able to sleep in an apartment knowing it had to be full of zombies? Crystal just shrugs it off.

“Gotta sleep somewhere,” she says.

Fuck, she has more balls than me.

She says she hasn’t tried to get a car. Most streets are too jammed with debris, bodies or other cars for any sort of driving. Crystal has seen a lot of car crashes, smoldering wrecks and shattered glass on the streets are a good deterrent from getting your own car.

I ask her if she has seen the military, or anything from the government. She just laughs at me like I am naïve. Maybe I am.

I tried bringing up the future and Crystal got real uncomfortable. I asked her if she thought we would get rescued, or if civilization will return. She actually looked angry with me. I thought she was going to say something but she just shook her head. Then she kissed me and we made love so I didn’t bring it up again.

I asked if she wanted to blog and she declined. I guess she’s shy.

I’m off to eat. Crystal is making something with Spam she swears I will like. We’ll see.

February 13th

This is Jimmy Varn and I got fucking laid.

Thank you sweet baby Jesus with your diapers full of poo. I am so fucking glad to not be alone anymore. I am so fucking glad to have someone to talk to. I am so fucking glad to have gotten some twice last night.

Last night there was a knock at the door. I freaked a little. I thought it was a zombie and grabbed two pistols. I looked out the window and I saw someone standing there, shivering in the rain.

I could tell it was a she right away. Straight black hair that came right down to her shoulders. Her jeans were tight against her very feminine bottom. Her arms were crossed over her chest but damn, I knew boobs when I saw them. It was her face that cinched it. She is so beautiful, with dark rich brown skin.

And best of all, she was alive.

I opened the door and she stood there, looking so pitiful.

Her name is Crystal and she is alive. Hot damn.

As soon as she got in she wanted to eat. I fed her. I felt fucking proud. I had such variety she seemed taken back. She let me pick something even though I told her to have whatever she wanted. I made her something fancy. That is, I made her beef stew and I spiced the hell out of it.

She ate three cans. Damn, she was starving.

I asked her many questions. She had been hiding from house to house. She stayed on the move and used up resources as she came across them. Not a bad idea I guess. She was searching for a new home when she saw the smoke from my fireplace yesterday. Crystal said she had been searching the neighborhood for me when she saw the lights.

God damn, I still can’t believe it. Another survivor. She didn’t have a gun and wouldn’t take one when I offered it. She had been using a metal bat to cripple the zombie in the leg. I feel dumb for not noticing the bat when she was at my door. She set it against the wall out of my line of sight. I guess she was being careful.

Crystal had seen some survivors. They carried guns and looked dangerous to her. Fuck, I guess we all look dangerous. She said she didn’t trust them.

But she trusts me.

I got her fed and gave her some of my hard earned purified water so she could sponge bath herself. I went down to the basement so she could work with the fireplace. I was a perfect gentleman. Man, I wished I had been smart enough o hide all the porn I had upstairs.

That night I made a bed for her on the couch. I took the sleeping bag in front of the fire. I wished her good night. I was in fucking heaven having someone else to talk to.

About an hour later she came to my sleeping bag. We didn’t say anything. We had sex, twice. I hate to get all gushy, but it was like a romance movie. I have never wanted to touch someone so badly in my life. The feel of her skin, the smell of her dirty hair and the feeling of her lips was so damn special. We are alive and we are together.

I told her about the blog. She says she is thinking about posting. We’re off to have lunch now. Nice to have someone else cook for a change.

February 12th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still kicking.

It has been raining hard since last night. It is a cold Atlanta rain and I want nothing to do with it. I am staying inside and keeping warm. I moved the computer upstairs and snaked an extension cord up here so I can type by the fireplace. It is too fucking cold for the basement.

The rain has been non-stop so I have been trying hard to collect rainwater. I got every empty bottle outside on the porch trying to collect it. I was watching the water drain out of the gutter across the street and I got a bright idea. I moved my barrel over to the rain gutter and tore it open. I got it feeding straight into the barrel and it is quite a large volume. The water is dirty as shit but fuck, its water.

As much as I want to stay at Home Base and stay dry, I ended up getting drenched as I set up the water barrel.

I got really crazy and actually went outside to wash. I took some soap and stripped down. I kept the gun with me and washed as best I cold. It was so fucking cold that my balls receded into my stomach but I stayed out there till I was clean. Fuck, I even washed my hair.

I came back in and shivered a lot. When I dried out, I took all my dishes outside in a wash tub. I am going to catch goddamn pneumonia doing this but let me tell you, my ass is going to be clean and so are my dishes.

I think I am having both cans of chicken soup today to fight off the cold.

Little Joe is still out in the rain, pushing his toys. Crazy fucker.

I saw a zombie shambling in the rain this morning. I took it down with only two shots. I thought the rain would mess with my aim but it was nothing. Visibility was shit but bullets still go where you put them in the rain. These things are good to know.

You know, for a day off I have been fucking busy.

Time to check on the water barrel. I’ll see you tomorrow.

February 11th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive even if my back isn’t.

Damn, who knew pushing a wheelbarrow back and forth would fuck my back up so much? I took today off and have been trying to take it easy.

I have been thinking a lot about my water. It is really hard to clean dishes without running water. I have been cooking a lot of meals in the can they came in, but I can’t do that with everything. I have tried collecting rainwater but damn, after a good rain, I barely get any water. I am starting to understand why they measure rain in inches.

There were a bunch of plastic silverware at the quickie mart but that won’t last forever. I have a lot of bottled water and I estimate that I could do a full load of dishes with just two bottles, but man, it seems like a waste. For that matter, I need to wash myself.

The fact is I need to use some of my precious water just to clean what I have and myself. I keep trying to think around it but I am coming up with nothing. I haven’t gotten sick yet but I think it is a matter of time. I need to do some dishes.

I can’t believe I am in a zombie apocalypse and I am obsessed with cleaning my dishes.

Let me tell you the weird thing that happened to me today. I was looking out the window and I saw Little Joe. The kid zombie is still in my neighborhood and I don’t think he is ever going to leave. But get this, today I saw him sitting down with some toys.

Where the fuck did he gets toys?

I got out the rifle with the scope so I could check him out better. He was playing with G.I. Joes, which was creepy. I don’t know where he found them, but he was sitting there with action figures, two jeeps and a plane. I don’t remember seeing them in the houses nearby but then again, I wasn’t looking for toys.

He wasn’t really playing either. He just sat there, pushing them around. Sometimes he would bite on them and tear off a limb. It was fucking creepy. He wasn’t playing, he was trying to play.

I watched him for two hours. He kept pushing them around.

Fucking weird. I’m going to log off and eat some more beefaroni. I usually rotate my foods more but damn, that was good yesterday. I never liked beefaroni that much before but yesterday it was awesome.

I need to get rescued.

February 10th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

The quickie mart was interesting. Which is a nice way of saying it was a total fucking disappointment. I half expected a treasure trove of goodies. It was far from that.

I took the wheel barrow instead of the bike. It took me nearly an hour just to get there.

I checked the place thoroughly. I wasn’t going to let any zombies get the jump on me. I found one behind the counter. He was sitting on a stool staring into space. It had a gunshot blast and blood on its chest, and I am thinking that is how it died. Some bastard shot him while he was still alive. I shot him in the head and ended his existence.

In the back, I found someone had been living ion the freezer area. There were two blankets laid out like makeshift beds. There was a shit load of empty beer bottles. Potato chip bags littered the floor and a box of frozen hotdogs was rotting. Whoever stayed here left a mess. I didn’t see any blood or bodies, so I am guessing they moved on.

I wonder if they were the ones who killed the clerk. If so, I didn’t want to be meeting them.

The store was empty in weird ways. All the cigarettes were taken, and I mean all of them. It made me laugh. Hopefully the murderous bastards will die of lung cancer before I meet them.

The Coke was gone too, but the Pepsi products were untouched. Mother fuckers. Even in an apocalypse, Georgians will leave behind the Pepsi. I grabbed as many Pepsi’s as I could but I wasn’t happy about it. All the bottled water was there which I was grateful for. I hate to be the dumb bastards who are going to get dehydrated.

All of the candy was gone but they left behind the microwavable spaghetti and soup cups. Fuck, food is food. I would have liked more sweets but I was more worried about protein. The chips were all gone but they didn’t touch the beef jerkey. Worse looters ever.

I was not surprised when most of the porn was taken too. What did surprise me is that they left behind the magazines with black women. This is when I am glad for racists fucks. After reading all those Leg magazines, I was happy for some porn with more tits.

You know if it is a shitty day when I am most pleased about the porn I found. I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess more stuff. The fact that someone had already looted the place really put me in a bad mood. It made me realize that there is a countdown for how long it will be till everything worth having gets looted.

What really bothers me is that dead counter clerk. I have kept wishing to meet other survivors but now I am not so sure. The odds of them being another guy like me is less than meeting another racist asshole like Chuck.

Took me awhile to bring it all back yesterday. It got dark so I didn’t go back. I got the rest of it this morning. I took a lot of stuff I didn’t really want but I guess every bit helps. I took all the paper I could find, magazines, books, and even the maps. I took anything edible which meant I even took the fucking Spam. Oh man, I am saving the Spam for when I have nothing else to eat.

I also wiped out anything medicinal they have. I am covered from colds, to sinuses to PMS.

I am logging off and going to eat some of the beefaroni I brought back.

February 9th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

This morning I did a more systematic search with the bike. It is hard to carry anything on it but the extra speed helps me get down the streets in a hurry. I wanted to explore my neighborhood and see what I could find. Mostly I was hoping to find survivors.

Zombies are easy to avoid on a bike. They move so fucking slow. It doesn’t stop them from trying. I saw four of the fuckers behind me at one point. Is this how a zombie parade gets started? Before I returned to Home Base, I made sure to circle a block until I lost them all.

It is fucked up to ride down a quiet neighborhood. There is just no sound. No traffic or kids yelling to fill the silence. I started to shout, trying to get the attention of anyone alive.

Big mistake. I heard a door fall down from a house near me. Out came two zombies, one thin looking guy and one very fat woman. I stared at them, wondering if they were a married couple.

I was daydreaming about them so much; I didn’t see the three zombies that were coming out of some bushes. They looked bloody like they had been eating. They were so sudden that I freaked and banged in to a parker car.

For one brief moment, I looked at the paint gash I had left on the car and worried about paying the owner. I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me this morning, but I was just not thinking straight. I had zombies coming at me slowly from two sides and I should have just started pedaling right there and gotten away.

Instead, I stayed and shot at them. I took aim at the three zombies first because they were bunched together. I prefer shooting into a crowd cause you always hit something. I crippled two of them to crawling and headshot the other one.

The other two zombies were still a good distance away but I stayed around and shot them too. This time I went solely for head shots. I emptied one pistol to kill the fat lady and had to use the other to finish the thin guy.

All in all, I wasted thirty minutes and a lot of ammo to kill five zombies that weren’t much of a threat. I started to feel a little guilty but not much. I was shaking a little. My body was pumped. I rode away and kept exploring.

You know, it isn’t till now that I realized why I killed them. I was bored. That sort of shit is going to kill me.

I did find a quickie mart. That snapped me out of my daydreaming. It was getting close to noon, so I decided to come back here and eat lunch first. Now that I found the place, I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. I also wanted to get my head on straight.

Hell, I also wanted to bring more ammo.

My beef stew is done. See you tomorrow.