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unrecognizable pieces, but the other clusters ran to our location. They bashed into the walls, trying like hell to get through our haphazard barriers.
     
    The walls bought us enough time to bring out the bridge of sheet metal, but once we extended it across the gorge one of the walls bent to the stress. We weren’t given a chance to finish. James tossed the last canister at the near defeated wall for Grace to shoot at when it falls. A good plan, but Grace fired too soon, and the explosion was exactly what the zombies needed to get through; she turned their struggle into a moment of ease. They stormed in, and we had no choice but to run across the platform. We all crossed one at a time, but it was still too much weight for the platform to support. It collapsed when Jack was on it; he made it about midway. He shot like crazy at the enclosing mass as they thrashed, running their nails into his skin. He kept firing with one hand while busting his ass to reach ours’ with the other. He went for a jump and grasped, but his hands were too sweaty and bloody. His grip slipped and the cluster of undead pulled on him, a few clamped down on his leg. Jack fired the last of his ammo at the eating fiends and kicked away for another chance for escape. He reached James’ hand, and James firmly gripped his arm and pulled him out from the mess.
     
    Grace was right about the area being less dense, but the debacle and the smell of fresh blood brought a wave of hungry fiends to come our way. We ran towards a corner store, while trying our best to not get caught up in the approaching mass. I fired a few shots, keeping the close ones at bay by severing limbs, but they smacked against the doors as soon as we slammed them shut. James and I went fast and shoved the gondolas against the windows, while Grace examined Jack’s wounds.
     
    After an hour of rushed, unplanned work, we began to feel more secure about the barricade. The remaining groceries: sodas, candy bars, chips, beer, and wine were thrown off the shelves in a hurry.
     
    I stocked up my bag with more supplies and took a break in the backroom.
     
    Jack’s wounds have been treated with the crude medical kit I found back here. I contemplated not revealing my discovery, but James just had to follow me. I could’ve told him the truth then, perhaps I should’ve.
     
    On another note, there is a computer back here with a dial-up connection. However, I’m too tired at them moment to even think straight.
     
    If I can, I’m gonna try to get some sleep.
     
     
     
     
    Entry Twenty-Seven, 1/13/15
     
    The zombies outside are still as persistent as ever. They can smell our fear, or perhaps they can still smell the blood from Jack’s wounds. We’ve been in this store for days now. Trapped in a cage like rats waiting to be fed to a snake. The windows are shattered, and the decaying fiends have bled all over the blocking metallic gondolas, but they have done little to actually budge them.
     
    James is still trying his contacts. He claims one has returned a call only to leave a very rushed voice message. He is taking the situation as well as he can by doing what he enjoys best: drinking. Jack and him have consumed a lot of alcohol during the passing days, playing cards while enjoying smokes. Grace stays with them, but I don’t think by choice. Whenever she leaves, wherever she goes, Jack follows. Sort of a strange relationship those two have.
     
    I’ve been mostly to myself lately. Trying to gain access to the internet with the backroom computer. It took a bit of work, but the browser eventually loaded up. Apparently, during all this down time, my blog has received a swarm of hits. Some of my friends are still uploading information, though they state a not too different situation than mine, it is a relief to hear from them. Some of them were able to make mild jokes about the speed being so much faster now that no one was on. But the jokes died the moment I noticed that other people have