DAMAGED.8

-October 16th, 2017----------


After getting to know Dawn and Leon better, they invite me and Jacobi to go looting with them, just 3 miles north from our "HQ". We ride in a truck.Really nice, big black one. Well, it's supposed to be black, but by now it's a nearly all red color. They take it everywhere they go.

We end up at this place, some liquor store. I pull out my M4 and, after learning the proper techniques on how to use it, I take point. Jacobi, using his gun- a silenced .22 hunting rifle- is right besides me.

Leon takes the back of us. Dawn waits at the door, to watch the vehicle.

Us three go inside and I easily put off four zombies, all headshots. Leon uses his machete to cut them up. I decide to also use melee, since Dawn yells at me to not shoot so loud. I take out my trusty fireman's axe from the hospital, and I see Jacobi walking away from us. Why is he walking away? I ask myself.

I turn to look at him, and something runs up to me and jumps to me. I was about to flip it off and decapitate it, but then I realize it's a kid. Like, 8 years old.

His names Jaden. He has, as a weapon, a hunting knife. How this kid got it, I don't know. But I'm glad he had it, since he stabbed a zombie in the brain that was behind me as soon as I realized he was alive.

After some quick thinking, we knew the obvious choice: We just HAVE to leave him here.

Just kidding.

We took Jaden and some equipment (Bandages, Water, Gatorade, Tampons) back to the school.

Rob was maneuvering a bus in the parkway so nothing can get in through the bigger entrance.

So we had to put the damn truck in the back side, where we can't see it really. It was hard, but within an hour Thomas and Quentin had put some barbed wire around the tops of the fences and locked them. The only person with the keys is Leon.

We can trust him with it.
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DAMAGED.7

-October 11, 2017-------------


After picking up our weapons and loading out, we walk out of the building. Jerry takes point, and Thomas is behind him. Rob has the back, as do I, and Quentin, Lisa, and Markus are somewhere between us all.

I hear gunshots, and quickly look to the left. I see Jacobi and Shelby shooting at zombies, and Luther stabbing one in the eye with a machete.

Cool.

Then, I see somebody else. No, two people. Well, shit, we got more!

I find out one is named Leon, and the other is Dawn.

Leon has an AK-47 strapped to his back, and also a .44 magnum in his pistol holster.
He has a light brown skin color, and dark blonde hair. Clean shaven face. 28 years old.

Dawn is a beautiful looking woman. My height, my age, and she has grey eyes. She's also got long black hair.
An M4 rifle is in her hands, safety button off. She has a bag with two more M4's in it over her shoulder.

Shit. Are they enemies?!

Hah, nope.
Dawn hands me a rifle and I don't even realize until she tells me.

"Excuse me." She says.
I blink, stuck looking into her eyes, which are so hypnotizing.
"Uh... Here...." She smirks and puts the gun through my arm. I look at her and nod, and awkwardly choke out the words, "Oh, yeah... Thanks ma'am." She smiles and replies "I'm only 19; I ain't no ma'am."

I realize she's not laughing at my face, and I look at her nose while we talk for the rest of the time. I don't think she noticed I wasn't making eye contact.

"Uh... What am I supposed to do with two rifles and two pistols?!" I ask aloud.

"Juss go akimbo on dem muddafukkas!!" Leon says, laughing.


It takes me about three seconds to realize what he said through his thick accent.

I think he's Jamaican.
It'd sure as hell explain the Bob Marley T-shirt.

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DAMAGED.6

-October 11, 2017------


Lisa Cortez, the little girl, is a year younger than Markus. Rob Lopez, the school teacher, used to teach English.

Jerry Sanchez, the custodian, is about 30 years old. Built well. Has a mustache and goatie combo. Black, wavy hair.


Jerry can handle a .17 pretty well. Rob is good with his 10MM pistol. He hands a rifle to me.

Nice rifle, too. It's a .22, so it's very simple to use. Not like a shotgun, where you have to lean into the gun a bit. You can have a leaning back stance and shoot a .22. And also, no need for a silencer; it's silencer than a fucking ninja.

Markus looks at the 9MM Rob put in his hands. Markus looks at Thomas, who seems to nod "yes" to him.

Quentin picks up a .40 glock and examines it and it's ammo that Jerry sprawled out for us.

I see one pistol, right by my feet. I feel a bit yippy looking at it. A .45 ACP pistol. This is the best mother fucking pistol known to Planet Earth itself. I don't know how it got here, hell, I don't even know where ANY of these guns got here, but I am taking this bad boy. I have to.

And I do.
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DAMAGED.5

-October 6, 2017------




Quentin broke the locks with his crowbar, and we hustled in.

With Luther in front now, and Thomas as well, we had 2 ways to go.  Up a flight of stairs to get inside the building, or to go around the bungalow buildings o the outskirts of the school property.

Me, Thomas, Quentin, and Markus took to the inside of the school. The school building was 2 stories high, and had around 50 classrooms total in there; In the whole school, there was 64.


Quentin then broke this door open to go inside the building and we found a disturbing setting.

7 zombie children and 2 dead grownups, with gunshots in their heads, being eaten by the zombie children.

I hold back the up-chuck, and Markus actually throws up.

Quentin turns around.

Thomas pumps his shotgun.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

They're gone. Well, a majority of their bodies are. The heads, for example, are nonexistent now.


We check the classrooms, and find supplies such as food, ammo, guns. A radio, and 3 generators. Water bottles filled to the top. Quentin busts open a nearby vending machine. We eat slightly stale chips and then put the good stuff in a box. We keep it in a nice little janitor's closet nearby.

We search the upper classrooms, and there is a nicer find. A little girl, about Markus's age.


And a teacher, who is around 29 years of age.

And a custodian, with his name printed onto his uniform saying in fine red bloody print, "JERRY".

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DAMAGED.4

-October 5, 2017-----

It's currently 9:31 A.M. and we're in the school.

Thomas said we were to leave last night at 10:00.  We left at 9:56. 

Quentin took point, with Shelby to the right of him.

Then it was me to the back right of Shelby and Jacobi to the back left of Quentin.

Markus was centered between me and Jacobi.

Thomas and Luther were behind us all.

We walked in at around 10:40 to 10:50, weapons drawn. Quentin broke the door lock down with his crowbar.

Nobody was inside. 

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DAMAGED.3

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                                                                       DAMAGED.

                                                                <A  fictional blog.>

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-October 1, 2017-----

It has been three months since me and Jacobi got out of that hospital.

Not much has happened since.

Well, I shouldn't say that. I should say I haven't nearly died since then.

Me and Jacobi found a survivor group a week ago. Nice people. They also have food, a shelter, a map book, and weapons.

There's Thomas Reubson, a 31 year old man. He's 5'9", and has a strong build. Loves his 12 gauge shotgun.

Then there's his wife, Shelby Reubson. 30 yeats old. 5'4", and is pretty handy with her 10mm pistol.

They have a son named Markus, he's 13. 5'4". He's fast, and enjoys his dad's machete. The machete is a foot long. 

There is also a man named Luther McWherter. He has a .22 hunting rifle. Semi-auto, with an 8 round capacity clip. He's 22 years old, and 5'8". 

Then finally there is 46 year old Quentin Serinas. 6'0". Has a crowbar. He's awful good at medical stuff. Used to be a doctor.

Now there's also me and Jacobi.

I am 5'6".  19  years old. I have a fireman's ax and Shelby gave me her extra 10mm pistol. I also was able to scavenge a pair of binoculars from a dead body some time after the hospital. And a small pouch, which is holstered on my front side to carry some beef jerky and ammo.

Jacobi, same age, and is 5'8". Also has a fireman's ax, and has a lead pipe. Carries a hiker's pack, which contains water canteens, the map book, and carries a small medical pouch. Also has about 30 iodine tablets, to make water fresh.

The seven of us make a good team. We all get along. It's been seven days since we all met, and today no zombies were spotted. As a matter of fact, for the past three days no zombies have been spotted, no shots fired.

No casualties. It's weird.

Thomas, the group leader, says in three days we leave the gas station and head 12 miles down to the school.

I think it's a good idea. We have alot of food, and supplies, but yesterday Luther was scouting for zombies and saw the school. He was zooming his scopes on it, and saw a banner. It read in large letters:

ALIVE INSIDE

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DAMAGED.2

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                                                                       DAMAGED.

                                                                <A  fictional blog.>

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-September 17, 2017------

I don't understand how this works. I should be dead right now. But I'm not.

Close to it, but not. Not yet.

It was a month before the end of the war, or as the others called it, The Great War of the End of the World.

I was in a fatal car crash, wounding me very badly. If it hadn't been for my girlfriend hugging me at the exact moment we flipped.

Her body saved me, being a sort of cushion. I saw the life come out of her eyes, and I knew she was dead.

We were in the back seat, the back seat of my friend Jacobi's car. Nice Jeep. We were on our way from the Azusa Mountains. We were shooting guns at the range.

On our way back, a trucker got mentally retarded and he stopped his car, suddenly, and it swerved the end of his truck- the part with the gasoline- towards us.

Jacobi swerved his car, and we flipped off the side of the mountain.

After seeing my girlfriend get killed by my weight, by me landing atop of her as we fell down...

I blacked out.

Next time I woke up, I was in the hospital.

Just me. No nurses. No doctors. It was daylight, and I checked the calendar on the wall besides me.

It read  November 13, 2016.

I checked in the cabinet besides my bed and tried opening it.

Locked.

I got up, but realized tubes were in my arms, in my chest.

After plucking them out and stretching, I looked outside the window.

Everything was mayhem. I saw blood on the streets, fires, heard gunshots and blood curdling screams.

But the screams came from inside the hospital. Close to me. I got up and turned around. Closed the curtains.

If I'm on a reality show, they better fucking come out now, I thought to myself.

I opened the door, and nearly instantly closed it, and felt sick.

There, on the floor, was a dead nurse, blood on the floor, walls, my room door. On her neck.

I sat huddled for a good 8 or so minutes. I opened the door again, she was gone.

I sighed a relief, for maybe it was some weird thing I thought was there.

But then I noticed the blood was still there, and right when I closed the door.

I see down the hall a nurse and a patient. I asked aloud, "Excuse me, Miss? Sir? Where the hell is everybody at?!"

They turned around, and started shambling towards me.

They weren't human. I can promise you that much.

I ran the opposite direction, and ran into an opened door. It said in fine print, ROOM 302.

I jumped into it and closed the door. Turned the light switch on. No electricity. Shit.

I then looked on the bed. And what do you know?

Jacobi.

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DAMAGED.1

-January 28, 2019-----
I don't understand how it came to this.

How all these people have become what they are.

And I sometimes wonder, what if I hadn't been in that accident, would I still be alive?

Hard to tell what's the truth, and what's just some other lie, some other scheme to make you get eaten by those ravenous monsters.

Hard to tell.

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                                                                <A  fictional blog.>

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-September 15, 2017-------
My name is Nick. Actually, it's Nicholas. But I'd rather be called "Nick".

That's what my friends called me back before it happened.

Before the war, before us bombing the Middle East.

Before Russia gassed the United States, dropping poisonous substances all across the lands of The United States of America.

Sure, we had a small victory of nuking Russia, but they are the ones who actually won.

They plagued the people of America with  a virus, one that was spread only by saliva or blood contact.

It infected the human at first, making them cough blood. Then, they would say they are hungry. They would moan, and sometimes try grabbing you.

Then they would close their eyes for a good ten minutes. Then they awake.

Then they get you.

I know because I've seen it.  Twice.






All of this happened in a matter of 4 years and 9 months. Just got out of high school.

Had no idea at all this war as going to effect me, the people I hung out with. The people I loved.

But it did.


The war was short, but with the technology we're capable of using, the allies the USA has, it was fairly easy.
It was scary at first, America being bombed. But no bombs got closer than Ohio, so after the first 16 months or so I felt fine. But after the 3 years and 6 month mark, Russia back stabbed us and joined the Middle East.
So we napalmed Russia.
So they stood out of the war for a good year and 3 months.
They made the gas and dropped it.
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