George, a transgender man, begins writing in a journal to stave off loneliness as he tries to survive in the zombie apocalypse. After he finds a stash of food, his paranoia only makes his loneliness more intense. When he runs into strangers he taunt...
As the sun starts to droop towards the western horizon, it's getting harder and harder to see anything. God, my handwriting must be terrible.
What is also terrible is my urge to take a piss. I can't hide here forever. Even if I do manage not to let my biology reveal my hiding place, there is a good chance that a zombie will find me.
I need to escape.
I need to run.
Why didn't I bring a flashlight with me? I'm so friggin stupid.
The queen is still reigning in her court. She has a long cane that's tipped with a silver eagle's head. Seems like a theatrical weapon of choice–especially compared to the more utilitarian bows and guns that her warriors are armed with–but that doesn't make it less deadly.
Maybe they are distracted enough that I can make a quick escape. Make it past the zombies and find someplace to stay the night. At least I have that wool sweater that I can use for a pillow and I can dip into my reserves for an evening meal.
Okay. Wish me luck. If I don't try to go for it now I'm going to wet my pants and I really don't want that to happen.
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DAY 36 (MORNING)
Well, good thing I like to run because I didn't get out of that cave without being seen.
My growling groupies were still waiting for me at the bottom of the boulders, so going back down wasn't an option. Instead I did my best to sneak around the edge of the clearing. I hoped that the flickering shadows being cast by the bonfire would obscure my movements.
It didn't work.
Within minutes of venturing out of my hiding space, I heard a shout rise up, "Intruder!" I didn't need to look over my shoulder or assess the situation. Hell no! I just ran. In the gray of twilight I didn't even notice the barbed wire until I felt it bite into my shin. I did my best to swallow my scream as I yanked my pant leg free. And then I kept running.
The adrenaline helped numb any pain. It was only after I made it to this garage that I was able to inspect the size of the laceration. It's two puncture wounds. Not long, but deep. It looks like I got into a fight with a giant-sized viper. And it fucking hurts now that I'm sitting here writing.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? You probably want to know what happened between then and now.
Well, it's pretty simple. I ran.
Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me, I'm the ginger beard man!
Once I was past the barbed wire there weren't anymore boobie traps. At least not that I ran into. I heard the shouting behind me, but with the fading light I was able to disappear around trees and eventually made it onto some small side street that wound itself up the mountainside. The first house that I saw had an open front door with a roamer chained to the porch like some demented guard dog, so I kept running, despite the drips of blood soaking into my sock.
