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.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, March 19, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
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.
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.
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