1/28/13
It’s been, what, a month now? A month since they started coming. I don’t really measure time anymore. Not much sense without power to run the clocks and the battery in your watch is long dead. I’ve gone through about thirty surgical masks, and the cut on my arm is about to heal. My shirts have all been soiled, covered with various stains. Sometimes they bang at the door to the block. Sometimes they don’t. I can’t stay here anymore. At the very most, we can rebuild society. At the very least, I don’t want to die alone.
1/29/13
Set out today. Found some food in places I hadn’t looked. It wasn’t much. Gets you through the day. Oh! I went outside too. That…THING was still there. About six foot six, eyeless, constantly searching along the walls, moving silently. Gives me the creeps.
1/30/13
Got past him with a pinwheel. They’re not very smart, apparently. There was a corpse past that. They don’t even eat their kills. On the other side I found a bathroom, with a large hole in it. I thought to myself no way it could be real. Walking over to the other side of the hole, I discovered it was. When I came out, one of them was waiting for me. It shrieked, a horrible, grating whine, and I ran. I’m going back tomorrow with some sort of distraction. Need to find it first. Heh heh.
1/31/13
Down to about a third of the original food. Still looking for a distracter. Maybe I’ll check the fridge.
2/1/13
Found my distraction in the fridge. Rotting meat. I knew I should have checked one last time when the power went out. I put some of it into my pockets, as much as I could bear. Going to go back to the hole. One thing I know about these things: they aren’t very smart and appear to track smell. It’ll probably work.
2/2/13
It worked too well. I ended up chased by every…thing on that side of the hole. I’m locked up in an old cage elevator, them banging at the doors. The movies always had them cutting out a hole on the top and crawl out there. No way can I do that.
2/4/13
I’m almost tempted to pen a work of original fiction while I’m in here, but I don’t want to waste journal space. Seeing the things though, I have a good look at them for once. They have claws, and don’t seem to be concerned about clothing. Doesn’t matter though. It’s over.

2/5/13
No way am I waiting around to die. I’m getting out of here. First order of business, I emptied out the meat from my pockets, I then opened the elevator, just a little… when the hand of one of them broke through, I started slamming the doors. It’s remarkable how easy it is to slice the arm off one of those things. Remarkably easy. From there, whilst it was thrashing around, I opened the doors fully and ran. I ended up where I am now, in another block of apartments. Found a bed, time for it. Good night.
2/6/13
Woke up STARVING. I also woke up with some woman in bed next to me. I kicked up and fell out of bed. She hadn’t noticed me. At this point, I realized everything was okay. Same clothes, mask still on. She just hadn’t noticed me when she tucked in for the night. After snitching a can of beans for breakfast, I went outside the door, waited a few minutes, and knocked. She said that “she had seen me last night, that I slept like a windmill, and that yes I could come in.” I obliged. When I came in, she had somehow managed to get into comfortable clothing (or, like me, she slept in her clothes.) We exchanged names. Hers was… oh god I can’t remember now… Joy. I think. “Classy name for a classy girl,” I replied. She said something about men and we started talking about what we had done to survive. I said I’d get my spare apartment key for her and walked out. Hmm. Maybe I should give her mine. I walked back in, and a Thing was there, (I’ve decided to call them Things, since they don’t appear to be undead or any sort of mutant, and anyone who knows isn’t telling.) surrounded by the exsanguinated corpse of Joy. “Crap” I said to myself. I walked back out calmly, and proceeded to cry. I was still alone. Didn’t have any way of getting back home that night, slept in the bed. What had happened?

2/6/13
The only joy in life is the end of it… or so I was told by a very wise man this morning. Found him in my dreams, a man with a box on his head. “Why do you have a box on your head?” “Why don’t you?” “Fair enough.” The box-man turned to me, and, speaking remarkably clear for having a large box on his head, spoke… “It’s a long journey ahead of you.” “I just want to get out of here.” “It shall be a long journey ahead of you.” “What are you talking about?” “The only joy in life is the end of it.” “SHUT UP!” At this point, I woke up. There was a flashlight next to me, and a bag of frozen green beans. Who-or what-was that? Anyways, I had to get moving. After a breakfast of stale cereal, I went out of the apartment block. The Things were gone. Good riddance. The one in Joy’s old apartment was gone. Why did I think her name was Peggy? I had to check last night’s entry to… oh well. Must have gotten it wrong. Oh well, time to get exploring.
2/7/13
Going well. Getting slightly bored from not having anyone to talk to, what with Peggy dead and the man with the box on his head not talking. Got out, snuck past a Thing, not my best work. I should probably get a weapon of some sort to defend myself with. Aside from that, not much. My bottled water has run out, so have the pipes. What to drink now? What to drink now?
2/8/13
Thirsty as @#$%. No idea what to do. Haven’t slept. Gonna die.
2/8/13
Gonna live. I’m okay, for now. Got to a suite, floor below me. Some rich idiot had shot himself in the head, left a note saying
“I’m going to die. No way around that. If you’ve found this, I am dead. My name is not important, and neither are my belongings. If I save our savior, then this’ll be reward enough. If not… use it if you can.”
Actually had the food COLD. COLD, dang it. With that kind of money, why not hoard up a legion of mercenaries and supplies and take the whole building for himself? If I had had that kind of supplies earlier…
2/9/13
Peggy’s okay! Turns out it was her sister or something and that they were roommates for that time. She came in about an hour ago relieved she had found me, and that I wasn’t at my apartment. After that we just… talked. About old-world stuff. And also things like the proper way to kill a Thing. (She calls them zombies…ridiculous.) I feel kind of odd around her, but survival comes first. Maybe when this is all over… Best not to get my hopes up. We each took a room in the suite. One of the perks of escaping from an apartment building is obvious.
2/9/13
Woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I’ve been having nightmares all this time, yes, but this was different. I was in a hospital. Hooked up to a breathing machine. There were doctors, telling a crying family that it was going to be okay. Then a Thing tripped over a table in the hall and woke me up. Just wanted to write that down in case I’m forgetting things, like I used to back before it all went to crap. Her name was Joy?
2/10/13
Another uneventful day. Peggy and I have decided to stay here for a bit and pack up. That idiot who shot himself actually had a decent hunting rifle. Neither of us knew how to use it, or when, but just in case we’ll pack it. We also got all the food we could carry, and then had us a little fiesta with what we couldn’t pack. It felt good to be full. We’re going to get down another floor tomorrow if we’re lucky.
2/11/13
Woke up, and the room was completely different. Different decorations, different bed, different backpack shoved up against a corner with the rifle propped against it, supplies strewn around the floor. After grabbing the rifle and loading in a shot, I went around cautiously, jumping at my own shadows. Peggy was still there, sleeping. It was as if nothing had happened. I repacked our food and water, got a book from one of the shelves, and read. Apparently “To Kill a Mockingbird” isn’t going to teach you how to hunt. Still good, but… We ended up packing around noon, judging by the sun. Oh yeah, I forgot! There was a balcony in Peggy’s room so we could see the sun… and New York. The most epic part of a zombie film was always seeing the devastation, and here was no different. The skyscrapers were steel skeletons jutting into the sky, most of the suburbs and other buildings were burned down to the ground. The whole city reeked of the dead, and the Things drowned out the background noise like cicadas. We managed to hide out in a stairwell after that. Should have brought a sleeping bag.
2/12/13
Now that we’ve found the stairs, we should be able to walk down no problem.
2/12/13
And it wasn’t. The man with the box on his head was there. “Hello there.” “Hello there, my friend. Is this Peggy? Or Joy?” “What are you going on about?” “Look to your left.” She was gone. Nothing there. I had two backpacks on. I turned towards the box man, and he was gone too. I then walked out into New York, snuck into some sort of museum. Medieval weapons. Exactly what I need.
2/13/13
Got myself jacked up today with some armor and a sword. Now I look like some sort of cross between Lord of the Rings and the Walking Dead. If Joy could see me now…
2/14/13
Should have known the combined food of two backpacks could only last so long! Had to forage. Found some food in a gas station, alongside a decent fishing rod. If only I knew how to fish…
2/15/13
When I woke up, I couldn’t breathe. The air had literally been sucked out of my chest. After a half-minute attempt at a coughing fit, my lungs gave way and let me suck in air again. What had happened? Tried to fish for about a half hour, got nothing. Need to keep moving, to stay alive.
2/16/13
Who’s even going to care if I’m gone? It doesn’t seem like anyone is real anymore. Not Joy/Peggy, not the Box Man. The only thing that’s left behind is this journal, and I’m fairly certain the Things can’t read. Another day of scavenging as usual.
2/17/13
Tried using my sword as a Thing-cleaver. I’m not good at swordplay, though. Ended up with a nasty scrape across my chest, in spite of the chainmail. Might get infected. I’m sleeping in a car tonight. Man, king of the world.
2/18/13
Peggy/Joy and the Box Man were in the backseat when I woke up in the car. I was getting sick of them, so I simply got out of the car, packed, and ran. Who are they? What are they? I thought about this on a rooftop next to some sort of gargoyle. The gargoyle was my buddy. And a Thing. I killed it though. I can use swords when I have too.
2/19/13
More exciting rooftop action. You ever FEEL like you’re going to die? Not like “we all die eventually” but as in, “you have heart cancer”. I have that kind of feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe the Things did us good. Maybe they made us appreciate life as we have it. I may be cold, homeless, alone, hungry, and possibly insane, but for now I’m alive.
2/20/13
The only way I can tell the date anymore is when I look at the journal. I’ll inevitably bungle it up though. My death-day is closer. And closer…
2/21/13
Joy/Peggy, the Box Man and I made up. They told me they weren’t real. I don’t believe them though. Those guys are always jokers. Heh heh. Heh heh. I’m dead inside.
2/22/13
Another coughing fit AND a nightmare. The doctor was telling the family the extent of the accident. I somehow remember the accident. Not that it matters. Dreams are ridiculous. Maybe the two are connected? The three of us are having fun now. It’s amazing how much the Box Man can keep in his box now. We’re having rooftop gargoyle cookouts every night about now. Life is good.
2/23/13
Something had to go wrong. Storm this time around. Building ended up going to @#$%, collapsed. Attracted every Thing for a mile around and they all went on us. I just managed to get out. I hope the other two are okay. I’m scared when I’m alone. Scared, cold and hungry. And tired. I won’t go to sleep. I can’t stand the nightmares anymore. I’m looking at the rifle, looking at the trigger, and wondering. Is life really worth living?



2/24/13
Almost the end of the month. I can’t actually remember what I did when the Things rose. I’d assume I was a worker. Maybe. Maybe not. I hope my friends find me. I’m dying over here.
2/25/13
The nightmares and the breathing is getting me even now, as I write this. It’ll end soon. I hope. Now I’m just running around New York, never hungering, thirsting, or tiring. What’s happening to me?
2/26/13
They found me, they brought back my sanity. I’m okay now, things are okay, everything’s okay. We’re all fine.
2/27/13
Gone again. My life is coming back before my eyes. All of it. My birth, my father, my mother, my friends. I can’t get it out of my heads. HEAD! HEAD! I have one head, and it is perfectly sane…
2/28/13
This is the last day of my life. When I woke up, I couldn’t breathe. It was whiteness. Whiteness for as far as the eye can see. Reality was constructing and reconstructing itself around me. Either I was there, or I was surrounded by Things, and they were coming for me. Oh, yes they were. But they can’t get me, because I have my journal and nothing can ev

St. Benjamin’s Hospital
2/28/13
Dr. Laratz looked up from his desk to the Quincy family. Benjamin, husband and father, was lying there in a coma, the same state he had been in for three months. The family had tried to turn off the breathing machines before, but they couldn’t do it. He could respect that. But this was it. He watched as Ben’s wife Joy and his sister Peggy walked toward the button. They had been in the accident, possibly the last thing he had seen…
She pushed the button.