Journals of the Damned Read online

actually drooled.

  There was another smell wafting in from somewhere though. I had noticed it earlier while she was sleeping. I couldn't place the meat being cooked exactly, it was familiar, yet somehow sickly to my nose. I thought somebody had decided to try and spice up some rotted meat of some kind, or maybe even a dog, which would account for the odd smell of it. I had hoped that my cooking would cover up the unusual smell but after barely a minute Lucy smelled it.

  Her reaction to the smell was immediate. She snapped her head around and ran straight out the door before I could stop her. I grabbed my gun on the way out the front door and tried to catch up to her but she was quick. I have no idea how she could determine where the odor was coming from so fast but she made a bee-line right towards Mike's house.

  Mike McConnell's house was the last place I had wanted to go. Having secretly killed his mother kind of puts a strain on conversation, not to mention the fact he turned out to be just as insane as his mother.

  Lucy had started beating loudly on his front door and after a moment Mike, red faced and black eyed, opened the door. It looked as if Mike was going to yell at Lucy until he saw me. Then his attitude changed to one of all smiles. The smile on his face wasn't one of kindness. I had known Mike since he was a kid and this smile was hiding an ulterior motive.

  "I want some Mike. Can I have some? Please Mike? I don't know what you're cooking but it smells sooo good." The words came out of Lucy's mouth in a hurried tumble.

  "Sure, c'mon in Lucy," Mike replied a little too slickly.

  "You can have some too if you want Jannie, There's plenty here." As he spoke those words he opened the door and Lucy almost ran into the house.

  I had to follow Lucy. She was my little sister and parasite maddened or not I was going to keep her safe. Lucy went without hesitation into the kitchen and I could hear her getting a plate of something.

  "Help yourself Lucy," Mike said smiling.

  "Mmmm, it's so good," Lucy said with her mouth full.

  I couldn't see into the kitchen and Mike was weirdly trying to block my way.

  I asked him, "What kind of meat is that Mike?"

  "Long pig."

  Mike wasn't like his mother in his speed. It seemed as if his insanity granted him an even greater edge. In a flash he had stripped the rifle from my hands, throwing it away. He was in the prime of his life (if it weren't for the parasite), and he overwhelmed me in a second, knocking me flat on the floor.

  Mike was grunting as he started ripping off my clothes. It was obvious he was intent on raping me. I couldn't believe how strong he actually was but once I got one of my hands free for a brief moment I jammed my fingers in his eye. The black orb burst and spilled a thick black fluid. He screamed then and reflexively reached his hands up to his face which gave me the break I needed to scoot out from under him and grab my rifle.

  He was screaming obscenities at me but I didn't shoot him, I crushed his skull in with the butt. I made sure he was dead and went to check on Lucy who was oblivious to what was happening in the room next to her.

  No sooner did I step into the kitchen when I realized what he meant by "long pig". His father had been sliced up rather crudely, blood was all over the room. Entrails and only Satan knows what, was hanging out of the trash can and I puked right there.

  Lucy was gorging herself on the thigh meat of Mr. McConnell, and as I tried to gain control of my stomach, she smiled at me and kept eating.

  To hell with it I thought, what is done is done. I let her finish her disgusting meal and it seemed to calm her almost back to normal.

  I easily lead her back to our house and gave her some orange juice spiked with the sedatives. She had the meal she wanted. It turned out to be her last meal. I had hoped maybe she was craving human flesh for a reason. Like maybe there was something in it that would slow or stop the parasite. I have always believed that when your body craves a certain food it's for a reason. Now I think the cannibalistic craving is from the parasite.

  Whatever, it doesn't matter, she died later that night and I buried her in the back yard. The grave isn't deep but there are no predators to dig her dead body up. Maybe tomorrow I can dig a proper grave for her and one for my mom (when I find her body). I want to lay them to rest next to each other.

  The insanity is showing up on the news (or whatever passes for the news now). The newscasters themselves are infected. Fact and fiction are mixed together in some obvious craziness, like reports of the dead rising.

  Friday, September 28, 2012

  I had no intention of writing in this journal again. It's clear now that there won't be any kind of school again for a long time, if ever. The teachers, staff and students are all dead or dying. In fact, the human race as a whole is dead or dying.

  The rules of reality have changed. I keep having the insane thought that I'm trapped in a nightmare, that I'm actually still asleep in my bed and can't wake up. What is happening though is not a dream, this has to be real. By reading my previous entries and writing new ones helps my mind to accept the fact that this is real. Maybe I died from some sickness and this is purgatory. What else am I to think when the dead start clawing their way out of the grave?

  As if the dead rising wasn't bad enough, the "Scarlet Madness" has driven half the world into war. The sun has been blotted out by ugly, thick grey clouds. The ash and debris fall like a light sprinkling of snow, most of it is the fallout from nuclear weapons going off somewhere. I know it's got to be radioactive to some extent. The air has an overwhelming odor to it, not just of fire and ash but of death itself.

  A lot has happened since my last entry. Events started happening so fast it's hard to tell the real order, so I'll write them as I experienced them.

  Television stations started going off the air one by one. The stations that remain broadcasting come in four varieties. The first variety of remaining stations is broadcasting endless loops of various Christian or other religious shows.

  The second most prevalent broadcast is a feed from the National Emergency Broadcast System. The feed is nothing more than a black screen with scrolling text and the intermittent annoying alert sound every 30 seconds. The first time I read the text I didn't believe what I saw. Along with the standard warning to seek shelter immediately comes the constant reminder of Martial Law. That information didn't shock me. The dire warning to either burn the dead or to separate their heads from their bodies did. That and the blunt statement that the parasite will re-animate the infected host’s body freaked me out. I didn't really understand what that meant until my little sister Lucy came back from the dead.

  The third type of station broadcast is re-runs of comedies or children's cartoons. Watching those shows while the apocalypse rages right outside the door is surreal to say the least.

  The very rare fourth type of station still has live broadcasts. Only two stations still broadcast, MSNBC and CNN. The MSNBC news anchor is showing the tell-tale signs of the infection. The man bleakly and almost sadly goes about reporting what he can to an empty studio. It's quite clear he knows he will soon die and be resurrected by the parasite. The CNN anchor woman seems to be immune, like me, and she talks to the camera man, who might be infected. The fear in her eyes is visible.

  Even with the warnings, I didn't really believe that nonsense about the undead until this morning. I had spent most of last night downloading various survival guides like "The Anarchist Cookbook" and "The Poor Man's James Bond" and printing them out until I ran out of paper. I have no idea how long the net will stay up, some sites are already down. I fell asleep on the couch after stapling them into a makeshift book. The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was to read as much of it as I could. I don't know how long I spent reading, I only stopped reading to empty my bladder.

  It was after I went to the bathroom and got a glass of water from the kitchen that I saw with some alarm there was someone in the backyard. I stared with disbelief at my sister, covered with the dirt of her shallow grave, standing and starin
g blankly over her excavated resting place.

  My first instinct was to rush out there and hug her. My feet started to take me to the backdoor, of their own accord, before I realized it. This was a different world now, with different rules. My old instincts don't apply anymore and it took some mental control, but I made myself go get the rifle.