When we left the city

Stuck in the woods and with winter closing in, can an isolated band of survivors reclaim the city from the hordes who guard it? And do they even want to?

Contains lots of swearing.

August 23rd

Camping sucks in the worst way possible, and that’s when you know that you’re only going to have to endure two, three days tops pestered by mozzies and squelching in the mud. But I guess when the other option’s death, it’s not so bad.

August 25th

Nope, camping is the worst, the worst thing ever. At least when it was just my family it was marginally less sucky, ‘cause when else are we going to get to go swimming in the river and jumping off trees, and there’s always marshmallows. Always. It’s like a law of camping. But now I’m stuck with a bunch of random weirdos and there’s not a marshmallow to be seen! Or even a campfire. Don’t want to draw attention. Stupid. It’s probably not even camping if there’s no sticky burned sugary goodness – it’s just idiots sleeping out in the woods.

August 26th

Okay I take it back. It’s not so bad when there’s a hot piece of ass like Alex in the group. Like, daaaaaamn.

September 12th

Oh god. Horatio just won’t shut up. It’s like he thinks he’s the boss or something. We don’t have a boss, man, just give it a rest. No-one likes him, but he keeps yammering on anyway. Says we need to go back to the cities. ‘Winter’s coming,’ he says. Sure, sure, we’ve all seen the show too, just give it a rest. Like, whatever. If we could go back, doesn’t he think we would? I don’t exactly want to be sleeping crammed in a tent with six other people so close I can feel the warmth of their late-night ass-bombs. Not to mention smell them. No more blackberries for Felicia, geez.

September 13th

I miss Ivan. And mum and dad. It’s stupid

September 15th

Haven’t seen Sean and Yvette for a couple of days. Wonder where they’ve got to? Sadly, not burying Horatio’s murdered corpse – he’s still yapping on. And on. Like he thinks we’re morons, like we don’t know what’s going on. Like we don’t know why we’re stuck in these goddamn pestilent woods eating squirrels and, I don’t know, stinging nettles. There’s a reason I’m not on foraging duties, okay?

September 16th

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!

September 23rd

Dammit. It’s goddamn official now, or at least as official as it gets for a bunch of homeless yahoos living in tents. Steve and Alex are a couple and I’m hard outta luck. Wish it was me with my hands down Alex’s pants, but I guess at least I didn’t have to suffer the indignity of Juantia walking in on me and Alex going at it and giving us an hour-long lecture. Silver linings and rainbows and all that shit. Still sucks.

September 24th

Where the hell are Sean and Yvette?

October 6th

Wilhelmina socked Horatio in the jaw today, and damn did he ever deserve it! His smug smile and his stupid white hair and his idiotic voice – oh they’ve gone for the good of everyone. New possibilities. Exploring the cities. Fuck. I can’t

October 8th

We know what’s in the city! Goddamn I hope someone stabs Horatio. Can’t believe Sean believed him. And Yvette… Geez, I thought they were smarter than that. Thought we were smarter than this. Maybe old Jerry’s right and God’s punishing us for… something. Dunno what.

October 9th

I can’t stop thinking about it. About them. I wonder if Ivan’s still okay. I know he’s the ‘enemy’ now, but… he’s still my brother.

October 20th

Oh. My. God. My head feels like someone shoved a firecracker into my ears and set it off. Hurts so bad. So worth it.

October 21st

Wow. Still recovering. Christ, hope it’s not methanol poisoning.

October 22nd

So, I know I said I’d never drink again after the other night, but that was just the hangover talking. If Jamal can make some more of that hooch, I’ll happily get smashed, just to see Horatio's face go that indignant shade of purple. I’d offer to help make it, but I reckon if I knew what went into it I really would never drink again, and that’d just be too sad.

October 31st

Halloween, but we’re the scariest thing in these woods. Proper monster-looking, even if we don’t feel like it. Smell like it though, like, woah. Biological warfare on an epic, stinky scale. So we’re going to sit around the fire tonight and share scary stories. Yeah, even Horatio’s shut his yap about the fires, now it’s getting colder.

November 1st

Well, last night was just depressing. Not sure what I expected but… yeah, no I did kind of expect it. We ended up swapping stories about our last day in the city. At least mine was kind of funny – who knew our ninety-something year old neighbour hoarded military weaponry? You ain’t never seen a pissed off geriatric until you’ve seen a wrinkled old man sitting like a prune on a walking frame mounted with a flamethrower mowing down shambling undead in the suburbs. Other people’s stories, though… Yeah, at least Ivan made it out okay, I guess. I can be thankful for that.

November 9th

First snow of the year. It’s really pretty, but it’s also fucking cold.

November 11th

It hasn’t stopped snowing, and Horatio’s tongue hasn’t stopped wagging. Maybe it’s just the cold talking, but he’s starting to sound almost reasonable. Hope frostbite makes his tongue fall out of his head before I actually start liking the guy. Ugh!

November 12th

So, no chance of Horatio being likable, thank god. I mean, no-one wants to have to kill their family and friends just to get shelter. We’re not monsters, even if Horatio seems to think so.

November 15th

Happy birthday, mum. Hope you’re not watching this, wherever you are. One of us suffering is more than enough. Love you.

November 17th

We’re going to go. We’ve got to try. I just… If we really are monsters now, I just hope Ivan doesn’t have to see me go down. But despite how we look, it doesn’t feel like we’re any different on the inside, so maybe… Maybe we have a chance. I guess operation Pacifist Zombie Horde is a go.