At Least He's Not On Fire: A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head Read Online Free PDF

wrong. You see by that point I don’t think they had realized that anyone who died and didn’t get their nugget wrecked immediately would get back up, seeking out flesh, being a general motherfucking nuisance to the living. But, I worked with what I knew at that point)

    • Did they eat flesh? The CDC confirmed that yes, they did indeed eat the flesh of the living.

    • Were the undead/sick/ill/terrorists that ate flesh more or less dangerous than a normal human being? Once again the CDC reported that the ill were slow, had diminished capacity for thought and reason, and were hostile to other human beings as well as animals. They were uncoordinated, couldn’t move much faster than a clumsy trot at best, and showed no ability to communicate, or to make plans of any sort.

    • Where did it all start? How close was I to “ground zero?” The CDC had no fucking clue. They said that there were about ten dozen simultaneous reports from all over the world. Plus or minus a few hours, which globally speaking is pretty fucking simultaneous. As best as I could figure, I was about a two hour drive from the closest outbreaks on the eastern seaboard.

    • Could they be killed, and if so, how were they killed? According to the CDC (by now my most trusted source for news regarding the current and ongoing Zombie apocalypse) any significant damage done to the brain would drop them again. So Romero, dude you were totally spot-on. Fucking A brother.

    So there it was. Despite the fact that even the CDC avoided calling it a “zombie outbreak” or the “apocalypse” I fucking knew. Well, at the very least, I wasn’t about to risk it. I grabbed up my phone and tried to make a few more phone calls, but no joy. All circuits still busy. So, I formulated my plan.
    Mom lived about a mile away, right near downtown, right near the schools, and I knew I would swing by her place to see if she was okay. I had a few friends who lived right around town too, and I wanted to check on them. More importantly though, was a long term survival plan. My condo was shitty in terms of a place to hole up, so I needed a place to go. I knew almost immediately I would come here, back to the school. It had everything.
    I would get guns, some supplies, food, and then head to the school. Ride it out from there and see what happens. As you can tell, I made it here in one piece. But that doesn’t tell the whole story. Unfortunately my guilt over wasting this gas has finally reached its boiling point. Plus I’m getting really fucking tired and I need to lock the upstairs down so I can sleep soundly.
    I think for my next entry I’ll talk about the trip to get here. And what I found when I did.

    Until next time Mr. Journal.  

    -Adrian

September 27 th

    Hi Mr. Journal. I think it’s all starting to get to me. I did not have a very good week here at all. Nothing bad happened, which is awesome really, but I think spilling my guts last Tuesday opened up some fucking epic wounds I had really forgotten about.  
    I’m sitting here with tears welling up in my eyes as I think about the fact that I did not go and at least try and find Cass. Cassie. Just typing her name is hard for me to do right now. I sat here looking at this blank white sheet of pixilated paper for almost an hour just trying to think of something to write about but I couldn’t. All I could think about was the fact that my awesome goddamn plan that day didn’t include at least trying to rescue the woman I should’ve married.  
    I mean, I’m alive, and that’s good, but it all seems pretty fucking pointless without her here.   Like, why do I even bother to make myself dinner when she’s not here to tell me how bad my cooking is? We were together for so long and I just don’t know why I didn’t ask her to marry me sooner.   Fear of commitment? Wedding was too expensive? Was I afraid her parents would say no? Shit I don’t know. And it kills me I never will know. My mouth is bone dry right now.