Urban Journals

[The Dankness]

November 9- Day 31

It's been quite a while since I've had any time to sit and make any sort of mental organization of what's been going on these past couple of weeks. I realize now that it's been a month since all of this stuff began, and it amazes me to think about how much has changed in so little time...

The smell of blood has become a normal part of my everyday life. A month ago, you could have never convinced me that I'd ever use my fire axe to cause physical harm to another entity... Now, doing that very thing has become the thing that drives me... It's what keeps me going...

I hold my axe very close to me. It's closer to me now than any other human being is. That's not to say that I don't enjoy the company of the fellow survivors... In fact, those people are the only thing that are keeping me even slightly sane right now.

Let's see if I can take a mental head count...

My friend Sigmund is still here, still going about his business. He seems to be doing quite well now, and his health has improved quite a bit. For a while, I wasn't sure if he was going to make it.

George Matheson, a fellow firefighter. I haven't seen him around these past couple days, but I'm sure he's probably just going on a zombie run. He'll be back soon, probably smelling worse than he did when he left. I know just how he feels.

Our scientist friend Alice is still here, and she's still as talkative as ever. She still obsesses over all that DNA extracting stuff. I don't really understand that stuff, but if I'm not mistaken, I think she's actually trying to develop some sort of cure for this madness. What a joke.

A police officer joined the frey recently. Calls himself Blighton Well, an ex-cop I should say. He seems inexperienced at best, but hey, we need all the help we can get I suppose.

Daytime Lantern. I don't know what the deal is with that name, I think his parents were hippies or something. Either way, I really feel for this guy. I'm not exactly sure what happened to this guy, but he looks like he's really seen some crazy sh*t. He's all tore up. I don't know how long this guy can last, physically OR mentally.

Also, there's some guy I see hanging around every so often, who looks like some kinda mad scientist. He's always doing research and conducting weird experiments. He calls himself Loki, but we've come to know him as "Loco Loki".

A few military men have shown up too. A revolver-toting dude called "Musouka" and a scout who's name I don't know, but he seems to like to be called "Nutri-Grain". I think it's some kind of reference to the breakfast bars or something. Hmm, never liked those things. Always preferred donuts myself.

Either way, at this moment I have just gotten back from my daily stiff-scouting, and I am quite beat. I shall be signing off for tonight, although I don't think things are going to be much different tomorrow... Though to be quite honest... I'm not so sure I want things to change at all...

[You probably can't touch this.]

Day 9

Well, I made it back to the club. I was even able to kill (or re-kill) a zombie and cripple another while I was out and about.

When I got back, nobody showed much interest in where or why I left. It was all there-he-is' and took-you-long-enough's. I swear I must be boarded up with the most angsty, self-absorbed people on the planet. Would it really kill them to smile once in a while and ask me how my day went? I would be pleased with Victor's high spirits if he weren't a complete psychopath. That guy has lost it. Everyone else just thinks that the man just loves killing zombies... but I've seen him outside of the Allerston. I'm just glad they haven't seen his forest of the impaled yet.

As for everyone else, they just sit around the club reading the same book or listening to the same music. Not much but it's better than getting themselves killed.

It's been thirty-something days. I'm losing hope in the idea that help is coming.

[Blighton]

november 9-

I've been here at the club for a few days now and everyone seems nice. what's good is the group seems to be a good mix. Everyone seems to have a purpose and are putting an effort to better the situation and I'm driven to put my effort into it. Before to use less but now I have frist aid kits and heal people. The only problem is I'm out of ammo and I guess that needs a back story. In my ambition to pull my weight I turn to victor that seems to have experance killing these monsters. He told me he would help me with what ever I wanted if I killed a few zombies. The terms are simple. For every certian amount of zombies I kill he would teach me somthing usefull. so latly I've been attaacking zombies whenever I can. In the last couple of days I've been running into these creates and have had many conflicts with them.

Today was diffrent thought as I came back to the club there was a zombie out side of the club. I unloaded as I usally do but there was a click telling me I was out of ammo again. I told myself crap as I used the shot gun in hope I will hit but it was no good and I missed. I ran in the club and UI hope it dosen't get in.

[Muramasa]

November 12

I have finally returned to the clubhouse. My most recent excursions have lead me back to the NecroTech facility over west of Allerston, where I searched for more clues to my employment at NecroTech.

I remember a bit more now...

Most of the nights were spent pondering about this newfound knowledge. While I would like to say that my absense from the club was due to "soul searching", the real situation involved our main entrance, the window on the east side, being boarded up again. Just recently, it was torn down. Victor seemed furious, when I finally returned, at everyone in general. I saw a large group of new faces. I can see why he's angry.

As said before, some new guy always get's freaked out about zombies and decides to cover every single hole, gap, and crevice in the club. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that when someone does this, one our friends are usually left outside without any of us knowing. At this point, we've come to trust each other, stating our location has sorta become a neglected habit. Stupid? Yes, but usually we get back alright. Recent though, we've been getting a rash of over paranoid individuals who feel that the world will end if the high window isn't boarded up. So, they board it up. And every other entrance in for that matter, even if zombies would never be able to access it. Much to Victor's chagrin, the use our good boards too, which forces Victor and George to head out to find more, which end up getting used by some paranoid new comer. The cycle seems endless.

This has caused a new tension for the club. Do stick with the "come one, come all" policy? Or do we take a more strict stance? I guess we can only wait and see...

George seems moody as of late. One time he went out, and I figured he was gone for only a little bit, so I jested with him "What took ya so long?" He responded rather negatively. It has been 4 months since this incident started. I think the idea of help never coming to him is starting to get to him. Or, maybe it's not, I can never be sure. Maybe I should talk to Victor about this.

One of the more recent permanents, John, has seemed to adapt pretty well to the new environment. He was a police officer, first day on the job I believe. He helps around the place by helping with any injuries (though that does not happen to often nowadays) and he tries to fight zombies as well. He's always commenting on his aim, and how poor it is. So he seems to hang around Victor more, to find out about his technique.

Kei has been sleeping around. On occassion, he'll write in a journal. Wonder what he writes about. Usually, him and Alice will gossip a bit.

DJ had disappeared for a bit, from what I hear from Kei and Alice. I saw DJ with some vomit stains on the sides of his pants, and the faint smell of cheap beer. Supposebly, there was some incident involving a car. At least, that's what the rumors say. He was minding his own business when I returned.

Alice spoke to me about the syringes in my pocket. She knows that they're a key to this zombie incident.

I remember working with them. They did something. Something involving a virus.

NecroTech worked on nano-machine technology as well.

Currently, while clutching this crucifix in my hand, I ponder on whether or not I should try using the syringe on myself. I'll sleep it over. There's plenty of time. I don't think help will be coming in a while.

[Captain Galaxy]

PFC Hector Castle
November 13

I've lost track of how many days I've been here. I've spent most of my time sleeping, while the scorching sun burns overhead. It is the color of a crimson moon, though she is a harsher mistress. I have not written in so long, as nothing important has happened. I have not many pages to go either. Most survivors have just holed up in buildings. This isn't going to take us anywhere. I moved from club allerston to a police station some distance east of it. I can only do about fifty things in one day, whether it be reading a newspaper, shooting zombies, or searching the surrounding area. Anyway, it's time we took back this city. It will begin here, in Crigg Heights. If we don't move out by the time my guitar strings pop loose, people are going to start swearing Hell's Bells is their favorite song. And all the while I'm gonna be kicking some ass.

[Kuat]

Nov 14

He looked like Stanford. You know, from Stanford and son. His name was Vincent, and he was 77 years old. However, when he got to me he was 78. That wasn't my first experience with a dead body, but it was my first experience exploring one.

Dissecting a human cadaver is an interesting experience. On one hand, it was a human, and while working on him I was eerily reminded of myself. Is this how my lungs look? Is my heart this trim or is it covered in fat like my neighbor's cadaver was? What will I die of? Does a silent killer lurk somewhere in my body, biding its time to do its work? On the other hand, he was dead, and sometimes I was reminded of steak or other food when working on his body. His muscles were extremely well defined, and were akin to flank steak. Not marbled, but tough and stringy. We were able to see that he had died of pneumonia; around his lungs were solid excertia consisting of proteins. Come to think of it, it had the consistency of oatmeal.

Back to the present day, I had another cadaver in front of me. Except this one's cause of death was more obvious and needed no in depth forensic investigation: she had her head cleaved in two by Victor's eager axe. She had been infected by the zombie pathogen, which was why she had her date with Victor. After he did his duty I quickly took the zombie in and tied her down to a pool table in the club. Using some cutlery I had salvaged from a previous outing, I started my work.

I first took a look at her chest cavity, inspecting her lungs and heart. Her lungs were completely collapsed, and were nonfunctional as far as I could tell. Her heart, however, was more vascularized than normal. Otherwise she had severe bradychardia, at a rate of 35 beats per minute (for reference, normal is 60 to 100 bpm). I cut out her heart for further study, and to also calm her down. After the heart was removed, she didn't fidget quiet as much.

Further exportation revealed atrophy of many main vessels and almost all nerves. In her abdomen, only her digestive system was working, and the pancreas, kidneys, spleen, and genitals had completely shut down. I'll attach an addendum with more detailed notes on her status later, but a cursory examination revealed the obvious: something had remodeled her system to just provide very basic functions of movement and digestion. The immune system was completely wiped out, motor function was rigid and fine motor completely lost. It was if something was taking what functions it needed and wiped out others. By the time I had gotten that far, I was exhausted, and decided to go to bed.

I woke up in the morning with my patient failing slightly as usual, and wanted to begin work on her heart, which I had cut out and left on the table. Before I started directly on her heart though, I wanted to look back in her chest cavity and see what major vessels had atrophied so I could better study the chambers of the heart. I was fairly certain that the pulmonary arteries and veins were still intact in the lungs, but I couldn't remember. If they were atrophied, I would guess the right side of the heart would be dead or modified as well.

Her chest was hard to open. In fact, all my incisions had been healed over, and her head was fused back together, no longer bearing Victor's work. Regardless, I had known the zombies had a decent amount of regenerative capacity, so I went back to cutting open the chest. And that was when I saw it.

She grew back another heart.

I looked at the heart on the table, and back at the one starting at me in her chest cavity. Regenerative capacity, yes. She grew back another heart in a day. Interesting indeed. Her lungs and some other organs appeared cannibalized. Again, this was all very interesting, and completely bat shit insane, if you pardon the language. Deciding that this was something I didn't have the resources or time to fully investigate this phenomenon yet, I went to phase two of my experiment with the cadaver: the use of necrotech syringes.

I should backtrack a bit and tell you what I've been through. I now know how to locate and operate DNA extractors and Necrotech ("Revivification") syringes. Where, when, and how I gained this information is for another entry, but needless to say things have progressed rapidly. However, no one I have come across know, or maybe they did and didn't want to say, how the syringes worked.

Now, I injected the syringe straight into her aorta, leaving the chest cavity and abdomen open. I thought the heart growing back was enough of a shocker. The syringe's work I can only describe as magical. All her organs, vessels, nerves, everything was brought back to life before my eyes. In addition, she started to grow little tentacles that devoured everything around her, which was most of the table she was on. Hell, one of the little buggers whipped out and grabbed the heart I had placed next to her and literally gobbled it up. I tried to cut off a tentacle to study it, but it was nigh useless to even get near them. Finally I took a pool cue, had one wrap around it, and pulled the greedy tentacle off. It then started to eat all around it until I fried the thing using some exposed wire I had been using as a cauterizer. Thank god the city still had limited power. I took the charred remains and quickly made a histological section of the tentacle.

Under the microscope, the tentacle revealed bizarre structure, consisting of numerous cells that are found in single organs. What really caught my eye however were small metallic pellets here and there. Very small. Almost unnoticeable. There were aggregated at the tips and core of the appendage. I knew what there were though from the beginning: nanomachines. The bastards were using nanomachines. In this city of Malton there is only one place that would be able to produce such technology. The Blackmore Engineering Corporation, located in Ridleybank.

I've made contacts with various resistance fronts and did some information gathering on where the largest zombie concentrations are for another project of mine. I'm guessing that the areas where they are strongest are possible places where the intimal outbreak started, and where I should find my answers. The answer was unanimous: Riddleybank.

Looks like I'm heading to... well, I think the answer should be obvious.

Oh, and as far as my patient is concerned, she is fast asleep in the club currently. I wasn't able to catch her name yet, however...

[You probably can't touch this.]

Nov. 14

Today was one of the most insane days that I have ever had. Today, I died. It all started when I got fed up with the fact that I only had the fire axe and wireclippers that I started out with and the purposeless fuel can that I found at the beginning of the outbreak. I went out for a bit and didn't find one thing. On my way back, I was really low on energy and I went to take a short nap in the hotel next to the club. When I woke, I had three thoughts; get up, go to the club, eat. The particulars of being a zombie... I've forgotten. All I remember were these thoughts and how I repeated them with obsessive focus in my limited thought capacity. Fortunately, I made a poor zombie as a NecroTech employee snuck out (as I was attacking the barricades to eat my former friends) and stuck me in the back with a syringe. The rush that I felt as my body repaired itself was indescribable. I pretty much blacked out after I felt the initial repairing. When I came to, I was perfectly fine except I was hungery, but this time for regular food. Even that scar that I got in high school was gone... weird.

[The Dankness]

November 15- Day 37

God, it feels good to be a hunter.

Of all the things I expected to be when I grew up, the last thing I would've ever expected was a zombie hunter. And yet, here I am, going out everyday with a fire axe, and hacking up walking corpses. Ain't life grand?

Unfortunately, I've been seeing less and less of the buggers lately. I guess they're starting to learn. They come around, and they see all their bloody undead friends splattered all over the streets, and they split. They know EXACTLY what will happen to them if Uncle Victor finds them. Yeah, that's exactly what's happening. Those flesh-eating bastards are SCARED.

Although the idea of those things experiencing fear is amusing, the infrequency of their presence is starting to really PISS me off. Everyday, I find myself having to walk farther and farther to find any of them. Killing those things has become a part of my daily routine. Get up in the morning, brush my teeth, check the barricades, keep watch around the building, go out in the evening and kill a zombie or two. I think the killing is the only thing keeping me sane right now.

On another note, I just recently killed one right outside of the club. Split the head right in two, friggin incredible. One of my better kills. Our resident mad doctor Loki ran out looking pretty excited. He spent most of that day and night cutting and studying the damn thing. He kept spouting his usual scientific necrotech mumbo-jumbo BS. I could care less about any of that crap. Why should we give a damn about what the god-forsaken things are made out of? Why should we give a damn about whether or not we can stop the infection?

Sorry, getting worked up again. I guess each of us has their own part to play in this apocalyptic game. Them? They can study and scrutinize those creatures as much as hey want. Me? I'd rather sit around coming up with creative ways of killing them.

Heh, you know, that reminds me... George, my fellow hunter, got turned into one of those things recently. Thankfully, one of the more scientific types around the club were able to cure him... So now he can get back to helping me murder some walking corpses. Heh, I'm glad SOMEBODY around here sees things the way I do. Some of these newcomers around here really piss me off. Some prick keeps barricading the stinkin building so heavily that no one can go in or out. I'm thinking that if this keeps on, I'm gonna have to start taking matters into my own hands... It started out with just me and Sigmund, but it's all beginning to evolve into it's own little community here in Club Allerston. Weird.

Speaking of Sigmund, he's been taking long trips out lately, sometimes for days at a time. I think the guys has some mild case of amnesia or something like that. Don't know much about that kinda stuff.

Well, all this writing is making me tired. I suppose I'll be off to bed now, to dream about killing things. Then, I suppose I'll wake up and kill some things for real. Good night, Club Allerston. Good night, axe. Good night, Malton. Oh, and good night to all you undead legions walking the streets... I'll be seeing you in the morning...

[Blighton]

November 15

it's been almost a week but so much has happen since then. went out and killed a zombie around the club. when I went to victor to get my reward to be rather disappointed. instead of teaching me something he just tossed me a few pistol clips. "I don't use these much. all I need is my Axe and she's keep me safe". it was actually kind of weird since he looked at it as a guy would look at his girlfriend. he looked at me and said "if you want to get anywhere and learn anything you need to leave this place for a while and start relaying on yourself that is the only way your going to get better and be able to put you part in this game.

I don't quiet understand what he meant so I decided to do as he said. I stocked up on supply's and headed east since going any more west I would hit the fence the government put to quarantine this city. I headed south east to another city where I'm residing right now. lately I've been staying in a police building which reminds me of where I use to work or would have have worked how ever you look at it. of course there are other people here but what's interesting is the stupid game of buttons to get ammo and weapons these building have. you have to punch in combination till you get the one that will dispense something.

usually my days consist of playing this game to get pistol rounds and if I build enough of them I head out and use zombies as target practice so to say. after about four days of this my aim has gotten a lot better I have to confess with a 65% hit average I feel more confidence about my role in this "game" as victor said. I still think there's a lot to learn and I'm starting to like how zombies squirm as you shoot them in different places and the satisfaction of getting a head shot and the smell of gunpowder in the morning.

[DJ Coulz]

Nov/15- Day 23

Well I've been spending days cooped up in the club. And everything was begining to piss me off. Even the freindly faces I had come to love were not helping me get into a happier mood. It got so bad that I could barley control my actions. See, a new commer had wandered in looking for a safe place to be. He had wandered over to me asking me all theese questions. Like if I had food or a gun for him to have. I didn't answer him or look up for that matter. He just kept asking me and then he said somthing like "Hey man, what's your problem?" Then I just totally lost it. I Yelled at him, said "I'm a girl you dumb ass!" and threatened to kill him if he didn't leave. Kei told me to calm down and leave the poor guy alone, he didn't know I was a girl and it was a simple mistake. In my rage I think I told him to go to hell and I walk over to the bar near the back of the club. I drank 2 beers and half a bottle of wine before I ended up behind the bar curled up near my own vomit. Dismaied I looked around under the bar and found 3 cell phones. I don't know what I would do with three of them, or for that fact why they were there, but I tried all three of them and couldn't get a signal. I kept them and walked back into the main hall of the club where I usually sat. I found the guy I yelled at was gone but the otherss laid around trying to sleep. I made eye contact with Kei, it was awquered but I turned away and fell asleep where I usually do.

[Dex]

I finally managed to scrub out all the blood stains and sew up all the tears in my uniform since that...day(s)? I don't remember much of what happened, and I don't really care to remember either. It's best to move on, I think. Anyways, I've found a quieter town on the edge of the city. Grigg Heights is it's name, from what the locals tell me. I've been patrolling the area and lately find myself frequenting Club Allerston on my rounds. The club seems to be a refuge for a small band of misfits who work fairly well together. Though non-military, they are coordinated and look out for each other like a small unit. Maybe, if they come to trust me enough, I can convince them to head East with me to investigate the power plant.
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On my rounds about town I noticed a very suspicious looking individual looting different stores and sneaking around like he was in a place he wasn't supposed to be. I decided to follow him around and see what he was up to.
Good Lord...the freak seems to have his own pet shop of those stiffs. They seemed to be poled into the ground, and looked pretty chopped up. That wasn't the worst part though...I'm not sure if the right word is Necrophilia, but it was disturbing nonetheless. He performed many inappropriate maneuvers and even tried to get one of the Zeds to call him "Sexy Nolan." I decided to wait outside the area for him to come out. I can't let a sicko like this run around in my town, but to waste him here might call for some unwanted attention from Zeds. After I take care of him, I'll come back and put these things out of their misery.
About 30 minutes later, my target exited the building and started heading South. I followed loosely behind, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Dread pierced my heart when he ducked into Club Allerston. I don't know much about this guy, but I know he's someone who can't be trusted around some Civis that I'm about to recruit. Who knows what he'll do to them. I know they've had experience killing zombies, but can they bring themselves to kill a human? I decided to take my chances. I loaded my shotgun and followed after him through the high window. I needed a cover story for my actions, so I tried to make it out as though he were a zombie. After I shouted though, he noticed me and managed to avoid my first shot. I was a bit careless, but when I hit him with the second round, he couldn't move very much at all. I proceeded by unloading my whole revolver into him when Victor, as eager as ever to get some killing done, helped me out with a couple quick hacks to his face and chest. He even carried the body outside. A Corporal in the making, if you ask me.
So far, no one has contradicted my actions. Do they believe me? Or are they afraid of me now? I'm not sure if the target addressed them or not, but if worst comes to worst, I can justify my actions with what I witnessed earlier. I even have that freak show back there as proof. Whatever happens, I am assured I did the right thing.

[You probably can't touch this.]

Nov 17

Not much happened today other than my discovery of a bottle of wine. However, the story that Musouka told me in the bar section of the club left me with one thought.... the irony that Victor be praised for killing some sicko. The soldier even said that Victor was Corporal material.

Perhaps Corporal material for a Viking raiding party.

[Muramasa]

November 17

Man...

A Hell of a lot has happened since I've been able write again. I suppose you could say that it was due to these events that have attributed to my tardiness. Regardless, I'll try to tell as much as I can recall. I usually keep a decent track of time. It helps me reassure myself that my brain is still working. But, so many things have happened, it's hard to keep track of them.

Where do I being? I suppose chronological is the most logical.

I have found out why George as angry those last few nights. Was it a week ago perhaps? He had encountered a difficult time trying to reach a mall pretty far east of Grigg Heights. I was never a mall person, can't remember where it was. He had been gone for several days. Damn, I never knew. I suppose my actions were insensitive. Still, his luck turned for the worse, or perhaps better in a certain light. He was killed by a zombie approximately 4 nights ago. What events lead to it, I'm not sure. But now he's back, and it seems like there was not even a scratch from the event. I'd usually be sceptical, but the syringes...

Three nights ago, I hit my head on a damage ceiling lap while scavanging for supplies. It forced me to lie down for a bit, but I remember something! There are nano-machines inside the syringes! We had a seperate research division that worked specifically with the nano-machines. Necrotech was a purely biological/pharmaceutical company. I never new why we would ever deal with that stuff. But the syringes make sense now. The launching mechanism in the syringe is attached to an LED display that changes color during certain situations. That display maybe liked to the effectiveness of the nano-machines to particular subject.

My head still hurts like a bitch. When I was still a tad bit stunned, a stiff managed to get the drop on me. It had me pinned, and in a last ditch effort, I used one of the syringes that was carrying. The zombie made a gurgling sound. A horrible gurgling sound, and screeched in pain.

Loki has also confirmed the effectiveness of the syringes. He had been doing some work with a sample he managed to find himself. I don't know how he's got it, but it doesn't really matter. He reserved one of the rooms in the club for some occassional research when he happens to come by. It's got a strange smell, but we've gotten used to it.

That means the zombie that I stabbed must have been "revived" if you will. I wonder if that person is alright...

Moving on to other matters. I wasn't crazy after all. Apparently, DJ is female. Could've fooled me. This was revealed in an episode that invovled her getting rather irate at one of the more disrespectful vistors that we occassional get.

The last story is an incredibly long story, I'll discuss it later. But I have grown tired. I shall get some rest. I need it after today's events...

[The Dankness]

October 18- Day 40

Man, yesterday sure was crazy. It was pretty normal until evening came around. You see, we get alot of annoying visitors here in Club Allerston. Some of them are still hanging around, even. This evening, however, we got a visitor that went above and beyond anything I've seen up until this point...

I'm not really sure what it was about him, but just the sight of him nearly made me puke. He looked so annoying, and so ugly, I wanted to shout. He pissed me off so much, I probably could've written a song about it.

With that being said, I should probably mention that I haven't really been in the best of moods lately anyway. You see, we've been seeing less and less of the walking stiffs lately. A LOT less. It's been getting very quiet around here, and with nothing for me to (kill) do, I've started to get a little stir crazy... And yesterday, having not killed a zombie in about two or three days, I was most definately NOT in the happiest of spirits.

Anyway, back to my story. So this ugly idiot just marches into our club, and he says "Hey guys, can you guess who this is?" like we're supposed to know him or something. My first instinct was to attack him, but for some reason, I held myself back. Was it because it was a human? I didn't think he deserved to live, personally, but I kept my mouth shut. I sat there in my corner, clutching my axe with all my might. I think my nails even began to dig into the wood of the handle.

I heard a voice from far off, shouting something. I think it said "Goddamn zombie!" And then suddenly, Musouka ran in behind the weird freak, with a shotgun held tight in his hand. The freak must've heard him shouting, because he turned around quickly. Just as he did, Musouka raised the gun and fired a shot. He missed, but barely. The sight and sound of that gunshot made my adrenaline rush. I stood up straight on my feet, clutching my axe in my hand, watching in awe at the scene unfolding before me.

I heard another gunshot, and at that very moment, the most beautiful thing happened. The ugly freak was thrown back, and it was like his back opened up, spewing forth a red shower of blood from his body. My friends, it was magnificent. I outstretched my arms, and the red shower rained on me. It was like a golden cloud came from the skies and showered upon me, wrapping me up in its glory. And I looked again, and beheld that the glory did not end there. Musouka threw his shotgun aside and, reaching into his jacket, pulled out a revolver. He pointed it down at the freak, who now lay limp on the floor. He pulled the trigger. and then he pulled it again. and again. and again. I watched as the blood sprayed out of him, holes opening up like death-geysers on his chest, and covering Musouka in their beauty.

As Musouka stepped back, unloading the empty shells from the revolver, he looked up, and as I gazed upon him, covered in the blood of the man lying on the floor, he didn't look like any military man to me. He looked like a god.

At that moment, I heard a choir of angels singing. I swear I saw a beam of divine light break through the top of the building and surround me. I ran forward, my heart beating faster than it ever has before. I saw the man lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. I saw him squirming, struggling to hold on to the last little bit of life he had left. I wanted to take it away from him. I wanted to take it all away. And I did, friends... I took it away. I raised my axe, and I buried it right into his heart. More blood spewed out of his chest, adding to the small lake that was now forming on the club floor. I tore it out of him, and brought it down again, this time into his head. I raised my holy weapon and brought it down into him so many times, I lost count. When I was finished, I stood there for a few moments, covered in his blood, basking in the sheer beauty of what I had just done. I then took into my arms what was left of the mutilated body, and tossed it outside.

I walked back over to the wall, and sat down. I think I may have said something to the people in the club, but I don't remember. It probably wasn't important anyway. I sat against the wall, letting the blood dry onto my skin. You know, as I sat there that night... for the very first time in as long as I can remember... I felt content... I felt absolutely content.

Alot of people are saying that this new world we've entered is Hell on earth... But you know... I think maybe... We've finally found Heaven.

[Muramasa]

November 19

Where did I leave off last time? Oh yes...that event...

Just recently, one of my nightly readings of Heart of Darkness was interrupted by some ruckus near one of our enterances. I heard shouting and several gunshots coming from our usual entrance, so I dashed there as quickly as I could when the commotion started.

Upon my arrival, I found the a dead body and Victor and a soldier covered up in blood. There wasn't much of a dead body left to tell who it used to be, it was in pretty bad shape. The rest of us stared at Victor and the lone soldier. I managed to catch his face in the moonlight. He was familiar, he had been around before. He told us that a zombie had managed to get into our club, and managed to catch the stiff just in time. It's odd though, zombies wouldn't be able to get through manuever around the debris and up the fire escape with their coordination.

Should I bring this up? The body has been disposed of. Victor swears that it was a zombie. But, something isn't right. Perhaps it shouldn't bother me, this is certainly normal for Victor. Then again, some things don't add up.

I'll just forget about it, maybe I'm thinking too much about this.

Today, on random survivor came in, he was pretty badly injured. I did my best to patch him up. I was running out of supplies so I decided to head out to the streets to gather some more supplies. People are getting paranoid by the minute. Every single building has been barricaded to Hell in Grigg Heights. If widespread fear was the issue, they should have figured this out 4 months ago. I don't know what gives. One particular survivor though taught me some tricks to get around barriers though. I've been getting the hang of it, and I can even use an alternate entrance from Whitcombe if Club Allerston ever got barricaded. It'll come in handy later, I'm sure.

Outside of the hospital I was scavanging from, everyone was outside of the building, bearing arms. Are they getting ready for a war or something?

On the way back from the hospital, I saw a young woman. She dressed normally enough for a woman her age, save for the bandana on her head, and the 4 gun holsters she was wearing. She must have been carrying enough to supply an entire army. I must have been staring for too long, as she gave a cold glare in my direction and continued on her way. What was she up to, I do not know. Sometimes, the surivors can be scarier than the
zombies.

Arriving back at the Club House, George was getting pretty furious at the randoms we've been getting. Some fool had over barricaded the club again, leaving poor DJ stranded for a bit. She's alright, seems half shaken-up and half annoyed though. Just a normal night at Club Allerston I suppose...

[Kuat]

Nov 20th

Well, it's about time this happened. People have started to snap, and the facade of civilization is slowly crumbling. In Club Allerston a survivor was mutilated by my “compatriots”. I figured, given Victor's borderline sanity, that it would have been him that threw the first blow. However, it was one of the army men, Musouka, that fired the shot heard 'round the club.

This is how it went down: a rather peculiar survivor came in seeking shelter. Obviously the man was quite effected by the outbreak, and had shattered whatever sense he had. He went up to everyone asking if they knew who he was, then declaring that he was “Sexy Nolan”. His other behaviors were quite odd, but it isn't anything I hadn't seen in the psyc wards. Indeed, his insanity was so deep he seemed to lack any fear of the zombies and in fact thought some of them were his friends. As one can guess, this made everyone fairly nervous because of our new security risk. What if Nolan got lonely and wanted some... company? Those barricades aren't exactly the most stable thing. However, all this does not mean that anyone has the right to kill the man.

It went down like some sort of tragic play, sort of like a madman's Ceaser. Musouka, fooling no one, yelled something along the lines of “Goddamn Zombie!” and fired a shotgun blast at the poor fellow. He was surprisingly spry though, and deftly dodged the first shot. However, his luck would not continue, and was shot in the back as he tried to flee. What a noble soldier, shooting a man in the back. It didn't end here though, oh no, it didn't. The shot had taken away most of Nolan's intestines, ripping away his lumbar region almost entirely. His spinal chord was shredded by the pellets but still intact; it was only that and flaps of skin on the side that kept his lower half attached. If they would have let him lie for about a minute he would have been dead; the bleeding was horrendous. But it wasn't about killing the man... it was something else. Something deeper, and darker, that lurks in man and comes out during times of madness and depravity, was coming out. Without going into too much psychoanalysis, I'd say that they were “getting it on” with Nolan.

Breathing erratically and with his face flushed, Musouka took out a pistol and shot the man six times, almost point blank in the chest. Victor by this time wanted his sloppy seconds and went to town on the body with his axe. I didn't know he swung that way, but whatever floats your boat, I guess. All the while the man was pleading for mercy, sobbing uncontrollably while his head was still intact. His tears mixed with his blood as Victor demolished his skull. By the time they were done, there wasn't as much a man on the ground but ground beef with bullet shavings and wood splinters, flavored with rage. Next time they should use a condom; the mess they left won't be removed by any amount of scrubbing. The floorboards in the area are also destroyed, quite a pity, they were quite attractive. While Victor and Musouka were busy staring at each other, I decided that it would be time to move shop. My experiments seem to irritate some of them, and I don't want to be next on their menu.

I packed my belongings and decided I'd camp over at the local hospital and necrotech facility, switching time between the two areas to continue my work. Stepping past (and almost into) Nolan's remains, I bid a farewell to the club. Hopefully I'll be able to get into contact with the sane members of that group again; well, if they survive. I would have tried to use a revivification syringe on the man, but he would have surely been killed again, being that he was right outside of Club Allerston. I'll get to him sometime later, maybe if he shambles a bit toward my new area of operations.

Along the way to the I had heard of similar stories, people being murdered in cold blood because they were accused of being “zombie spies”. Then I heard other tales, one that was rather chilling was of the slaughter house that was Shearbank. Human groups were fighting one another over control of the suburb, and the death toll I heard was inflated, of course, but even 10% of that would still be staggering. Looks like hell has decided to stay in Malton, and is making itself quite at home.

Time is short, and I still have yet to write my new findings in this journal. I'll write more once I find a place to re establish my experiments. I'm no longer alone though, and various other scientists, whether they be physicians or necrotech or otherwise have been conducting their own tests. Sharing my information with them, I have learned a great deal. Anyway, I'm off to bed. This warehouse has a blessedly huge supply of pillows, and I think I'll be able to get my first comfortable night's sleep since... since before residency.

[DJ Coulz]

Nov/20- Day 28
7:02 PM

Well the last 11 days have gone by as strangly as the last. I'm feeling better and a lot less bitchy. Things are just kinda back to normal.

I went to the Church north of Club Allerston. I wandered into the huge water logged doors. dead bodies lay sprawled ontop of pews and one hung from the cealing in the classic upsidedown crusification. It had the words "Gods mercy shines down upon us." in big, red letters written on the dry corpse.

I wandered slowly to the huge alter up front where a preist would normaly bless an offering. But instead of bread and wine I found a severed head ontop a golden plate. As I looked up to the huge organ pipes that hung on the rust stained wall I saw a small box below some ruble. I ran to it hoping for the best. I shoved the old plaster out of the was and tore open the box. I found 3 first aid kits. I was enthralled with excitment and shoved them into my butt pocket. I then though I should probibly get out of the dank place.

I ran down the far right isle twards the door. I passed by a crucifix hanging on the wall. I quickly grabbed it and then a few more as I ran. I though I could take all the help I could get.

I noticed the now bare wall where they had once hung. I then remebered that there was a spray can in my pocket. I pulled it out and though about what my blank canvas should hold. For everyone to admire as the fight fir their lives. maybe sumthing cheerful but a tad frieghtning. I had the perfect idea. I slowly sparayed "Jesus Christ is in Heaven now" on the large white wall. The smell of the paint burned my nose. I would have signed it but my spray can had run out so I just chucked it and ran out side.

No one was around to discover my sacreligious act so I just ran back to club Allerston.

As I ran I fasioned one of the small crucifics to my wallet chain. Once I got into the club I read a book i had found in one of the cars in the junkyard. I only picked it up cause it was one of my favorite writers. Stephen King. It was Pet Semitary. As I opened the book, writen on one of the first pages was "Sheila is a punk rocker" I laughed and read the first chapter before getting to tired. I rested easy thinking tonight would be a good night.

[Captain Galaxy]

Hey, i like my new subtitle Urban Journalist. Thank you whoever did that.

[Captain Galaxy]

Hector Castle
Zombie-Killing Rockstar.
Nov 21.

Those...bastards...barricaded me out. I guess it's cuz I used to play acoustic too loud, attracted too many of those damn things. Can't help it if they dig Mr. Crowley. Oh well, I think I'm out on my own now. I woke up with a song in my head, Children of the Grave, good ol' Black Sabbath. I played a litte on my guitar, my brand new gibson with a little belt amp, for a bunch of zombies coming my way. My bullets sliced through their brains as I'm sure my notes did through their ears. This is an all out war. There's no holding out now, this fortress is gonnna stand the test of time. There'll be a long trail of gore and blood before one of those damned things bites into my head. I've found enough clips of ammunition to rain down death over their heads. I will spread like a fire, from building to building, consuming all in my way, dealing death on all I come upon.

But for now, for now I shall remain at the police station. These bars may not be able to hold me in. But they sure do a good job of holding in Zub. I caught him gnawing the entrails out of a poodle. Felt more sorry for the creature than that fancy french bastard. Guess when there's no good meat left, all you can do is scavange. Strange creatures, you know, the way they act. All they want to do is KILL. EAT. SLEEP. in other words. LIVE. There's only one thing they don't seem to be doing, and that's making zombabies. Can't really see how much different we are from them. Why do we kill? Why is there hate?

The one in the prison, the one tied down by more than the lack of intelligence. He's got something in his eyes. A kind of sorrow. A kind of longing. Lord knows he doesn't know what he's doing. Or does he? Is this hell? Is this the end? Is this IT? Man, I sure did a good job of getting raptured.

The only way out may be death. I can feel her cold embrace, her black cloak closing in around me. Her pale dead skin pressing against mine, yet I seem to welcome it. Her frigid lips are pressed against my own, and slowly she draws my breath. We've all got a date with lady death, and by god I'm not gonna get one anytime soon.

[Muramasa]

November 21

"Are you sleeping with your new found faith?"

It was crudely and hastily tagged onto the wall.

What did it mean exactly? Since it is asking the question, it would imply that I have found a new faith. While, the question may not be directed to me, one must conceed to the fact that it was directed to any number of us in that room in which the state message was tagged on. So, I taked it that this question does include me.

So, have I been sleeping with my newfound faith? I'm not quite sure. Have I found a new faith? I never really was a man of much faith. I have, however, have been a man searching for answers. I suppose I'm not the most scientific person, despite being a lab assisstant. The juxtaposition of the two ideas certain makes the contrast more stark. What am I looking for then?

Maybe the answer doesn't lie in the gun, loaded with a syringe filled with nanites. Perhaps it lies with what I have been carrying all this time, since the begining of this situation and perhaps beyond, the crucifix that has been in my pocket for as long as I can remember things in general. I suppose this reminiscence was brought about by seeing DJ's crucifix attached to her chain. I must have noticed it just now for some reason. Combined with the message on the wall describing faith, it has lead me to think about the crucifix that I had. The one I had carried through all my trials and tribulations. What does it mean to me?

I'll write more about it later, things have been pretty hectic around here. People coming and going. People getting paranoid. People hurting people. People hurting zombies. These things are slowly becoming less horrifying and more normal. And if it becomes normal, what will that say about our humanity when, and if, all this ends? I suppose I'll have one Hell of a book on my hands, but I was never a writer.

I'll write more about this crucifix later. Perhaps, to remember why I am still alive, and why I am still human...