February 1st

This is Jimmy Varn, gravedigger, and I am still alive.

I haven’t finished Corbin’s grave yet. The ground is pretty hard and it is slow going. It goes slower when I stop every time I hear a strange sound and I go to investigate. I have four fucking pistols near me at all times. No asshole zombies are getting the drop on me.

I would like to take a moment and call bullshit on those movies where people quickly dig a grave. Maybe in a damn sandbox, but in a back yard, it is fucking hard. I am sweating my ass off and the temperature is freezing out there. I wanted six feet but right now I would be happy with three feet.

This might be the most exercise I have gotten in years. Factor in my strict survival diet and I know I have lost some weight. Shit, I bet I lost four pounds from the shivering I did during the zombie parade.

What is really weird is how much more active I am. I am tired but I always find something more to do. Once it got too dark to dig a grave I went back to Home Base and organized it a bit better. I moved some furniture around to block the windows and organize the food so I can tell what I have with a glance at the kitchen table.

Back before Hell Day, the only time I washed my clothes is when I ran out of underwear. Now I have a daily routine to preserve the supplies I have. The end of the world has done wonders for my self discipline.

I plan to dig a grave for the Screamer too. It just seems right. Once you dig one grave, you start seeing reasons to dig others. This grave has been something of a test grave anyway. See, all those zombies I have been shooting are cluttering up my street. It is getting trickier to move the wheel barrow through the street. It also just fucking stinks. Some of the older ones are getting damn disgusting and I realized I needed some sort of disposal system. I toyed with burning them but damn, that would use things I can burn in the fireplace.

Shit, Milla Jovovich never had to shovel her dead off the streets.

I am going back to grave digging.