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more we could hear screams and fighting. The place was a war zone. People were acting like animals, throwing rocks, pipes, gas bombs, anything they could use to fight. The zombies had them trapped for two blocks and it looked like they were surrounding the only other humans we’d seen in a few days. We couldn’t help them. We zigzagged our way along back streets to where we knew of a few less popular bars, but we were driven towards the river trying to avoid more zombies that were coming into the area. We followed the foot trail that moves along the river to the Clinton Presidential Museum. From there we headed south till we got to Sixth Street.
    That was all part of our first trip downtown. That was when we saw those people in the store. That was only part of the horror we saw on that trip.
    The corner of Sixth and Cumberland is nothing but parking lots, but there are some buildings nearby, apartments surrounded by trees, and we spent the night in a garage. I’d smashed the window out of a car and we pushed the car against the garage door, using a bungee cord to secure it to the bumper of the car. We didn’t want anyone to open it on us during the night. I know it wouldn’t have worked, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. Zombies couldn’t have gotten in, but a person could simply crawl under the door after they lifted it to its tied limits. We slept in the car, not eating at all that night.
 
    The next morning we started walking to our home. I-630 is an asphalt ribbon that cuts Little Rock in half; it travels up and down over hills and through natural and manmade ravines. There are places where the banks are high, forming an asphalt canal along the freeway. These parts of the road have bridges going over them connecting the two sides of the city that I-630 splits. We crossed at Cumberland Bridge. We were feeling good about our trip that morning. We hadn’t met anyone or seen any zombies, at least till we got to the bridge. Even before we got there, we could hear the moans and some screams. As we crossed the bridge we tried to stay in the center, not looking over the sides to below where the sounds were coming from. Curiosity got the best of us and we looked anyway. Below were miles of cars all stopped; zombies were going from car to car. There were still some people alive trapped in those cars. Trapped in traffic and trapped by zombies trying to get to them. I remember I stood there for a long time watching in morbid fascination. Someone trapped in a car below saw me looking over the bridge's railing and pointed. The other passengers started pounding on the windows and dashboards, begging us for help. All it really did was bring more zombies to the noise. Within moments you almost couldn’t see the car, it was so badly swarmed. She stepped up next to me and grabbed my sleeve. “This profits us nothing,” she said and pulled me away from the bridge. “This profits us nothing,” what an odd thing to say.
    After crossing the bridge we zigzagged southwest down the streets till we got to our house. Our neighbors were all gone. The barricade was destroyed and our house had been looted. We had even less than we did when we left. Great, just great.

ZWD: King of an Empty City Chapter 04
     
    ZWD: Dec. 04.
    Just found a Marine folding foxhole shovel in my neighbor’s shed. It works well as an axe. I know ‘cause I just used it on his dead ass.
     
    The morning started out bright but quickly turned to a thin fog that lingered low to the ground, maybe thigh high. The first thing I wanted to do was get into that shed. Outside I tried the door and it was locked. I tried kicking it like they do in the movies; you know, when they bust a door down. That doesn’t really work. My foot still hurts. Next I tried to shove my shoulder into it. Again like you see in the movies. I just bounced off like a rag doll. My last thought was to get a running start and drop-kick the door like I’ve seen wrestlers do. I’d backed