HOLD Read online
DAY - 1
For what it’s worth, I feel the need to write in this thing finally. I actually received this big ass journal over a year ago for Christmas. I don’t guess there’ll be anymore of those happening. No more holidays of any kind will come to pass.
Maybe that’s what makes this mean more to me now? I don’t know. In any case, I feel like making a record of what has happened. Maybe someone will find this some day after I’m gone? Hell, I might inspire some kind of hope for whatever will become humanity should it survive. That would be the most ironic thing I’ve ever heard of. Me, an important part of anything - ironic!
I guess that I should start to explain things after that first paragraph. I tend to rant sometimes, but fuck it, these are meant for emotional memoirs. I can’t think of anytime I have ever had the emotions that are tearing at me now. At least it’s only emotions presently doing the tearing at me instead of those fucking ghouls outside. They’re fucking ferocious as shit! And I’m one who fully disbelieved the term supernatural, but because everything else they are defies medical or scientific logic except for how they move, well, I’m going against my beliefs. I mean, they move like people with the specific injuries they have or with whatever is left of them would effectively work. They don’t seem to die, though - not the way they should. I’ve gone so far as having to pin one between a car and a house before it stopped moving. I think severing the spinal chord or the nervous system did it, but I haven’t felt much up to testing that theory when there are way too many of those fuckers to even think about it. They’re relentless, they’re savage and I wouldn’t last very long if I’m completely wrong about how to stop them.
I must add that I am not alone in this building that I’m held up in. I found a dog that was actually smart enough to run away instead of trying to attack those ghouls. I’m still keeping my eye on him, though. He could turn out like those things, too. I have seen animals affected as well. I would hope to know how to judge a change in an animal, but I’m no expert, so I’m keeping my distance and plenty of caution. I will admit, though, that he’s been crucial to me so far by sniffing out food for us when needed. I take him for walks on his chain when the streets look clear in the daytime. I take him out with the mindset of finding supplies and hopefully some other survivors, but we keep ending up here, alone.
I can’t think anymore. I have to try and sleep - at least an hour or two. I have to chain this damned dog up first.
DAY - 2
I bet that I’ve read my first entry over a hundred times already. I wasn’t really aware of how much anger is driving me instead of grief or sorrow. The world has become hell, and now with a chronicle of myself - who I really am - I might just actually belong here. I don’t feel any different than before everything happened. I am definitely the same person except for knowledge due to experience. I’m much better with a gun, now. I’m willing to say that being self-taught with this samurai sword is pretty damn good enough too. After ten more shots - unless this dog can sniff out some ammo. - I’m going to get a lot better with this sword. By the way, my name is Delaware. Most people call me Del. Whoever you’ll be to read this probably won’t be calling me much of anything. I’m pretty sure that I’ll be long gone before anyone else reads this.
All that I ask if I’m found like those things is that I just want to be put down for good. Burn me to dust if you have to. That and I want my name on a marker where I’m buried - or I guess where I’m trapped if it just doesn’t work out my way.
That dog didn’t even bark once that I could hear last night. It scares me that he allowed me to sleep as long as I did. I got in five hours. Before, that’s about average for me. I still don’t trust that damn dog yet, though. He looks at me funny sometimes. I think he’s been getting hungry more often over the past week. I really don’t want to have to worry about feeding him before myself, but I know his sanity will turn to instinct long before my mind gives in. Hopefully, it’s just a matter of him being very pissed about a new owner with a new schedule of being fed. I’m actually trying to teach an old dog new tricks. It’s two dogs, if you count me. My stomach isn’t all that cooperative lately either. Maybe I’ll lose those extra ten pounds finally.
I have been thinking about my favorite films as of late. The Road Warrior - a nomad, only no leather - jeans, tennis shoes and my old, light blue, high school baseball shirt. I feel gruff enough for the part though. The Evil Dead - in a perfect world my gun would be a shotgun and shells would be plentiful. I’ve got a 9mm I found next to a torn apart policeman. I do think I have the cynical nature down though. Without that, I don’t think I’ll write too many more entries.
I have to go and find this damn dog and myself some food before it gets too dark.
DAY - 3
I wish that I could choose certain people from my past as daily companions sometimes. Today I would have chosen my biology professor back from my second year of college. I had thought up this theory that I presented to him with complete documentation and tests and examples. It was my entire “ finals “ paper. The bastard gave me a C+ based on all of the effort I had put into it and nothing more because my conclusion wasn’t concrete enough. My theory was based initially on when a Brown Recluse spider actually attacked me and bit my ankle when I was twelve years old. It came at me. It knew it was badass, and it knew it could hurt me - so the damn thing did. My professor would have changed that grade today. The dog and I were hunting for food, and it finally occurred to me how the dog was selecting what was safe to eat. He’s been sniffing out rats, raccoons and rabbits, but most importantly they are running from him. If the critters were like everything else dead and come back, they would be after us. Those damn ghouls know they’re vicious, and that they have the upper hand on us. In any case, we got a raccoon. He ran from us, and the dog snagged him. The dog actually brought him to me. I think he’s getting spoiled on the taste of cooked meat - that or the salt that I put on it.
On the way back to our hold, I got a wild hair and decided to take a slightly different direction. The danger it could have been didn’t even occur to me. The curiosity had overruled it quickly. It wasn’t long though until we came upon the most ironic thing I have witnessed to date. We saw a wreckage of three cars side by side, smashed into each other - the farthest car on the left was also pinned against a brick building. The sight should have been enough to naturally awe me, but not this time. What stopped me was the bumper sticker on that far-left car. I had seen the bumper sticker many times before, and I hated it - but not today. The sticker said, “ In case of rapture, this vehicle will be empty, “ but I could see the lady driver was still very
much behind the wheel. She was still buckled in and flailing about like any of those other ravenous fuckers. I laughed. I seriously laughed and laughed hard. I could have called attention to myself as a meal for those things had they been near enough. Still, though, it was great to see that lady like that. I don’t feel as singled out, now, and it seems more and more like a collective, human catastrophe - something somehow our fault.
DAY - 4
The dog’s barking awoke me well before sunrise this time. He’s proving his worth more and more. One of the ghouls had made its way to the thick glass door of our hold. Luckily, even if it had managed to break the glass there are still the narrow and sturdy steel bars that line the entire door. The rest of the windows are just the same. For me, the sight of a reinforced pawnshop isn’t something to signify a stereotypically bad area anymore. Too bad, this one doesn’t have the ammunition to go along with the rifles on the wall. I could have easily emptied twenty rounds into that damned thing for banging on the door so loud. Getting more sleep lately has spoiled me.
I had to chain up the dog. I wasn’t afraid of him attacking the ghoul, but he might have taken off out the door if it was left open for too long. I sure as shit wasn’t going after him in the dark. After probably another five minutes, I decided to part ways with more rounds from the 9mm. I looked around through the windows, and when I was certain there were no others lingering in the area, I kicked the door open knocking the ghoul on its ass. I made haste and shot it twice in the neck. It still squirmed a little more, so I made use of a heavy, bass guitar amp from inside and smashed the damned thing’s head into a wet spot on the concrete sidewalk. I figured if I had used the sword, then I would have just dulled it cutting through to the concrete. It reminded me that one’s IQ is how FAST you accurately apply your knowledge.
After getting back inside and getting comfortable - I locked us up and unchained the dog to let him feel at ease - it hit me about what my Grandmother had said many years ago.
Grandmother was very spiritual and often wanted me to be the avid churchgoer. “ It’s just not me,” I would always say, “ I can’t stand the social standards that everyone expects of me, and I hate dressing up.” She would just laugh at me. She would say one thing I always agreed with though, “ Church doesn’t mean you have to gather in big droves. The Good Book says that your body is a temple, so you’re actually a church unto yourself. You’re always in church anytime you think of God so why not just go to another place with like minded folks?” All of that said, the part that’s nagging me is - I AM my own temple - my own stronghold. This pawnshop isn’t what holds me together. I’m the hold. I could hold up anywhere - I could easily be somewhere else.
DAY - 5
I toyed with my new idea all day - a safe, sturdy vehicle to get me somewhere else. The dog just wants to eat, so I helped him hunt quite longer today - two rabbits - those big ones. I remember a pet store nearby that sold those big rabbits. Our food supply is set for at least two days now, and I can put to use a street map of the city I have had for some time now. It lists the major gas stations in the city, on the map. In a previous attempt, I saw two gas stations riddled with the dead.
I think some of the worst attacks were at the gas stations - where everyone seemed to want to fuel up before hauling ass out of town. The gas stations were like buffets’ to those damned things. I can find matches and lighter fluid in them, though, and some canned foods without having to enter a huge market that could be riddled with ghouls. So, I set out for two different gas stations, and I finally came across the one vehicle that I think I can use. The film, “The Road Warrior” came to mind again. I found a nicely intact diesel, gas tanker. The transmission is an automatic, which has been my weak point this whole time. I can’t drive a standard to save my life, and since that’s a literal statement, I have come nowhere near taking the risk. The truck is in good shape though, and I actually looked into the top of the tank - it’s quite full - it’s full of diesel, which is the final piece that needed to fall into place for me - I had found another tanker on Missouri Street a while back, of course, full of unleaded gas. My problem now is that I need some thin hosing and a gas can for siphoning out fuel when needed. We don’t have any small, general stores where those objects would be. I’m thinking the Target or the Wal-Mart will have what I need, but damn it - there are going to be so many of those fuckers trapped inside. This could be my last entry unless I chicken out tomorrow. I would steal from someone’s home as an easier option, but I am quite removed from the suburbs. That would be riskier.
I’ll take this journal with me. If I fail, it’s because the items I need are usually in the back of the store, but at least someone may find this journal and know that I never gave up. They may read something that helps them along. In any case, I’m after a water hose, a plastic 5-gallon gas can, duct tape and hopefully, 9mm ammunition.
I’ve decided on Wal-Mart. Their housewares and sporting goods are close together. It’ll be one straight shot. But, because of tomorrow's risk, tonight the dog and I will feast on Vienna Sausages, Cheese-its, peanut butter crackers and rabbit.
Desert will be powdered donuts.
DAY - 6
Damn that meal last night. My system isn’t used to that much sugar, nor is the dog. I did choose the pawnshop based on working plumbing in the first place, though.
As soon as my stomach settled I locked the dog inside the pawnshop. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or worried, but he didn’t bark. He just looked very anxious. He looked how I felt about getting the day’s plans behind me. I held the journal firm in my right hand, the 9mm in my left and the sword hung at an angle through my right-side jeans, belt loop. I began to hype myself by thinking that I looked like a bad ass. I think I even strutted some.
It took an hour to get to the Wal-Mart. The parking lot was a chaotic array of cars smashed into each other or stuck in a line that was apparently trying to exit the area. I saw many more of the undead people, stuck inside their vehicles and flailing about. I made faces at some of them and ridiculed them for my own personal behalf - also to hype myself up.
Finally, I stood right in front of the glass, entrance doors. I was right, and there were at least a hundred of those fuckers moving around in there. I tucked the journal in between my pants and lower back. I pulled the sword out and held it blade down in my right hand. I think the last clear thought I had before walking through the doors was remembering the exact layout of the store. I knew exactly where to go, and it made the whole event feel almost like a dream. I wasted the remaining eight shots of my 9mm right away. My aim is SHIT, but it’s just as well because the ammo and guns were locked behind bulletproof glass. BUT, THE SWORD - it cuts clean. I cut the fuck out of every one of them that came near me, even after I knew they couldn’t hurt me. I left a trail of limbs from CLO
THING to ELECTRONICS to HOUSEWARES and SPORTING GOODS. I snagged my needs on the run - a water hose, duct tape and a plastic gas can. Then the thought set in of their blood even so much as absorbing into my skin.
It scared me to befall the same fate. I rushed ahead of the ghouls back up to the storefront - to the bathrooms - and washed myself spotless. I washed quickly and when done, I was startled that I didn’t notice the body of a nasty attack in one of the stalls. The guy’s head looked to be chewed through and only attached by the thinnest piece of flesh - dead for good though. I had to cut my way past one more ghoul to reach the pawnshop. I got my items. I made it - unharmed.
DAY - 7
The dog and I have made a mutual agreement. He doesn’t eat anymore junk food. His system was attacked again early this morning, and I can’t say I like having to clean it up. At least the floor is tile and the owner here had a closet of cleaning products - and toilet paper - very important.
We left early this morning but not to hunt. The dog didn’t understand not letting him sniff out any critters today. I’m glad his leash is a chain and not cloth because he’s strong and stubborn as shit. I had my gas can in tow, my trusty sword in my belt loop and the water hose hanging on my shoulder. I put the roll of duct tape on the leash so it rode atop the dog’s collar. He didn’t seem to mind.
We went back to the diesel tanker. It was an easy trip. We saw nothing of any threat. Actually there seem to be less everyday. I’m starting to think that they are controlling their own population much like the derelicts in bigger cities have done for years. Mark down another good argument for this all being a government experiment gone wrong. Everyone thought that of AIDS when it was first introduced because it had a specific, minority affected track record. When it began to infect others is when the government stepped in with prevention methods. This time it looks like only complete luck, common sense and cleanliness is the prevention.
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