February 7th

This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.

Things got a bit exciting this morning. It must be the adrenaline because I am upbeat after nearly getting killed today.

I was pushing my wheelbarrow up the street, looking for more houses to loot. I ran across one zombie and he was so far down the street, that I decided to use my rifle. I balanced it on the wheelbarrow and lined my shot.

BAM! One shot, one kill. I have turned into a damn Sniper after all.

I was still congratulating myself when a dozen zombies came out of a house. What the Hell they were doing there I didn’t know yet. I’m glad I didn’t because I would have lost my nerve.

The bizarre thing was that all of them were wearing police uniforms. I must have stared at them for a good three seconds as I thought they were actual police come to rescue me. I studied their lurching movements, hoping that maybe they were just acting.

The horrible moans convinced me that they were zombies.

Still, it was very hard to open fire on something wearing a police uniform. My first few shots missed. I was shaking. I hope it was because there were a dozen of them. I mean, that is a shitload of zombies.

I stopped aiming for heads and went for legs. Legs are remarkably easy to hit. Sometimes it would take two or three shits to shatter a bone but it was better than missing head shots. Also, when you shoot into a crowd of zombies, you are going to hit something.

I took down three of them when one of the zombies did something terrifying. He pulled out his gun. He pointed it at me and I ran like a coward behind a parked car. He didn’t fire but fuck, I was scared. The other zombies pulled out their guns and I nearly ran back to Home Base right there.

They didn’t fire though. Whatever part of their dead brains that remembered guns couldn’t follow through. Maybe zombie fingers suck at pulling triggers, I don’t know. I was just grateful that shooting zombies were not a new problem.

Using the car for balance, I took better aim and started hitting skulls. My rifle ran out of bullets and switched to my pistol. I actually did better with the pistol so I should remember that for latter. When my first pistol ran out, I finished the last two off with my second pistol.

It sounds boring when I type it that way but fuck, my heart was pounding. It is not like a game where you can hit reset when you lose. Every miss physically hurts because I realize that might have been the bullet that stopped a zombie from killing me. Even when I am winning and they never come close to me, it is scarier than you can imagine.

I checked inside the house they came out of. They had broken in to eat some dogs. It was fucked up. How the dogs were able to stay alive is a miracle but all that was left now was corpses and shit. There was slit open bags of dog food every where. I have no fucking idea what the dogs were doing for water. The place stunk of dog shit and piss. I had to leave, it stunk too bad and dead dogs were the last thing I wanted to see

I have to say, the fact that three dogs without thumbs could live that long made me feel like I could do fucking anything. I do wonder about their owners. How can leaving three dogs locked in a house be considered a good idea? Those poor damn dogs.

The police zombies had guns. Fuck, I gathered shit for food this morning but I have a hell of a lot more guns and ammo.