day 3: the eeriness of the night is made all the more frightening by the isolation. Being off the grid doesn't help. Last night they came at me in a group of 6. They ate my dog without benefit of allowing it to die first. I heard it's yelps of pain as they swallowed him in chunks. The full moon's light illuminated the whole sick thing. They scared me at first, the walking dead. Somehow I've acclimated to their wretched form. They trudge along the forest floor without lifting their feet, animated by some devilish energy with not quite enough of it to walk very fast. I can smell them. They reek of cadaverine, the chemical molecule that emanates from rotting carrion. Damn disgusting things.
They hide by day. I ventured out yesterday under a full sun. I tried tracking them, but for some reason their bare footprints somehow disintegrate making it impossible to find their lair. I've seen them trudge away from me an hour or so before dawn. I've carried my shotgun for no other reason than for its comfort, makes me feel secure. I know the weapon doesn't phase them- found out the first night when I blasted one full on in the face. The shot blasted away half its head, but it kept coming at me, essentially unphased. Between the twisted grin made by its exposed teeth and molars, and its stench, I did everything to keep from vomiting, but to no avail. I hurled all over myself, turned and ran. It kept trudging after me at a half mile per hour pace. The grin wasn't voluntary. Like I said, it was due to it's shotgun exposed teeth. They don't grin. They don't laugh. The only sound I've heard them make are grunts of rage and some sort of wheezing sound. I think it's a sound of hate. Their seething with it. I can feel it. If they catch me, they'll eat me alive just like they did my dog. Talk about if looks could kill.
There's so much hate in their eyes.
I'm even afraid to sleep by day even though I've figured they don't venture out then. It's a good thing I've got stockpiles of grub in my basement. I can't make a run for it. I'd like to get out of this place, but I'm snowed in. I'm afraid if I try, night time will catch me and they'll ambush me. I don't know the radius of their domain. Don't know their means of travel other than trudging, but maybe they teleport here somehow. Maybe they come out of the cracks of the earth. Wouldn't surprise me. Wonder how the rest of the world is faring. The neighbor thinks it's a zombie apocalypse. He had a short wave radio. Before he lost his solar panels to the blizzard, he used it to gain knowledge of the outside state of affairs. Seems its pretty much a world wide thing. I hope he's okay. Last time I saw him he was headed out of here, backpack on his back shouting out scriptures. He left at daybreak a couple of weeks ago.
Oh damn. If these entries aren't finished, you know they got me. My dog's growling. It's a half past dusk. I see glowing eyes out there about the stature of their height. It's them. F**k, there's a group of them! They're scattered across the rise.
Oh s**t, one's at the window! His guts are dragging out of his stomach, dragging them on the snow. Crazy b*****d. He's got his moron face pressed against my plexiglas window pane. Hell, if it can keep out grizzly's it'll keep its sorry a*s out of my cabin.
"Hey, get the hell outta here!"
They're all gathered around the front porch!. Some in the back. I think one's on the roof. Oh my . . . oh, no . . . sick - one of them has my neighbor's head, he's carrying it! I know because of the beard and the eye patch. He had a glass eye and wore a patch. It's like their taunting me. Even my half wolf dog is shaking. "Oh God, please. Help."
Now they're shaking the cabin, pushing on it! It's creaking. There's more coming. Their silhouettes are filling the top of the rise's horizon. I don't know. Sonovabitch. I think this is it.
"Hey. You m***********s! this is it, . . . I'm . .
They hide by day. I ventured out yesterday under a full sun. I tried tracking them, but for some reason their bare footprints somehow disintegrate making it impossible to find their lair. I've seen them trudge away from me an hour or so before dawn. I've carried my shotgun for no other reason than for its comfort, makes me feel secure. I know the weapon doesn't phase them- found out the first night when I blasted one full on in the face. The shot blasted away half its head, but it kept coming at me, essentially unphased. Between the twisted grin made by its exposed teeth and molars, and its stench, I did everything to keep from vomiting, but to no avail. I hurled all over myself, turned and ran. It kept trudging after me at a half mile per hour pace. The grin wasn't voluntary. Like I said, it was due to it's shotgun exposed teeth. They don't grin. They don't laugh. The only sound I've heard them make are grunts of rage and some sort of wheezing sound. I think it's a sound of hate. Their seething with it. I can feel it. If they catch me, they'll eat me alive just like they did my dog. Talk about if looks could kill.
There's so much hate in their eyes.
I'm even afraid to sleep by day even though I've figured they don't venture out then. It's a good thing I've got stockpiles of grub in my basement. I can't make a run for it. I'd like to get out of this place, but I'm snowed in. I'm afraid if I try, night time will catch me and they'll ambush me. I don't know the radius of their domain. Don't know their means of travel other than trudging, but maybe they teleport here somehow. Maybe they come out of the cracks of the earth. Wouldn't surprise me. Wonder how the rest of the world is faring. The neighbor thinks it's a zombie apocalypse. He had a short wave radio. Before he lost his solar panels to the blizzard, he used it to gain knowledge of the outside state of affairs. Seems its pretty much a world wide thing. I hope he's okay. Last time I saw him he was headed out of here, backpack on his back shouting out scriptures. He left at daybreak a couple of weeks ago.
Oh damn. If these entries aren't finished, you know they got me. My dog's growling. It's a half past dusk. I see glowing eyes out there about the stature of their height. It's them. F**k, there's a group of them! They're scattered across the rise.
Oh s**t, one's at the window! His guts are dragging out of his stomach, dragging them on the snow. Crazy b*****d. He's got his moron face pressed against my plexiglas window pane. Hell, if it can keep out grizzly's it'll keep its sorry a*s out of my cabin.
"Hey, get the hell outta here!"
They're all gathered around the front porch!. Some in the back. I think one's on the roof. Oh my . . . oh, no . . . sick - one of them has my neighbor's head, he's carrying it! I know because of the beard and the eye patch. He had a glass eye and wore a patch. It's like their taunting me. Even my half wolf dog is shaking. "Oh God, please. Help."
Now they're shaking the cabin, pushing on it! It's creaking. There's more coming. Their silhouettes are filling the top of the rise's horizon. I don't know. Sonovabitch. I think this is it.
"Hey. You m***********s! this is it, . . . I'm . .