Netherstream: Diary of the Undead - Entry #14

14 October - 6:00 A.M.

What a strange night. Something’s not right here, and it’s best to move on.

But I can’t.

It turns out there’s another soldier down there, and he’s well armed. Nothing can pierce his metal plating—certainly not the bullets from my pathetic rifle. I need to get my hands on that armor if I’m going to level the playing field. It would make all the difference in the world.

This place is a test zone and I’m the rat trying to find the edges of the maze. Each passing moment I’m more and more convinced of it. Hopefully neither soldier has spotted me yet. I need to keep it that way or things will go badly for me. The key to all of this is the armor. I just need to figure out a way to coax it off them.

“Most likely the armor has a tracking mechanism,” says a voice in my head.

“Fine. Then I’ll tear it out,” I reply.

“And what if it encumbers you to the point that you can no longer outrun zombies?”

“I’m having a hard enough time outrunning them as it is. Eventually they’re going to catch up with me, with or without the armor.”

In the end it doesn’t matter. I’m gonna get my hands on that shiny, metal skin or die trying. It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up—a gift from the heavens that promises to keep me safe while I sleep. And good sleep is worth killing for.

Netherstream: Diary of the Undead - Entry #13

13 October - 7:53 P.M.

All of this waiting around is killing me. Eventually they’ll look up at the neon sign and discover me hiding in the O. Occasionally the sign flickers on, but I have no idea what powers it. The lights in the other buildings don’t seem to work.

Why does the Chowderhouse Café have its own power supply? Is it by design? Perhaps all of this is one big experiment?

My thoughts are beginning to scare me just as much as the zombies downstairs. I don’t want to think anymore. Over and out.

Netherstream: Diary of the Undead - Entry #12

13 October - 4:44 P.M.

Wow, writing these journals is addictive. Who would have thought? I better take a break and round up more food before it gets dark. Ugh!

I watch another zombie’s head explode and stop dead in my tracks. What am I thinking? Those things are down there, slithering among the undead, and then there’s the matter of the invisible soldiers.

It’s not safe, and best to stay where I am. They might scoop me up and use me for a science project once I’m down there. In the meantime, I’ll just keep writing these journals. My stomach is grumbling, but I can deal with it. Hopefully the zombies won’t destroy the last of the food in the pantry downstairs. It’s a chance that I must take, but being hungry sure beats being dead.

Still, I need to find out more about the synaptic snakes before they discover me. But not tonight. Something tells me that I’ll find out soon enough.

Netherstream: Diary of the Undead - Entry #11

13 October - 4:02 P.M.

Look at me—I’m writing all the time. This is good. Really good!

One would think that the apocalypse is over with all of the free time I have. But when you find a safe nook, killing time takes on a whole new meaning. I am thankful, though—I have a cozy spot while others are sprinting for cover. Still, my supplies will only take me so far.

I must make the best of this unexpected lull. And keep churning out pages.

Netherstream: Diary of the Undead - Entry #10

13 October - 2:54 P.M.

What’s wrong with me? Is the desire for the flesh all that consumes me? Heck, I sound like a zombie already.

Though I may falter from time to time, I will not dishonor my family’s memory. I must not die foolishly; in spite of everything, they would want me to survive this and carry on our good name. I owe it to them to make things right.

I can die in many ways, but I must not invite ruin when it presents itself. Simple temptations can provoke doom in these lands if you let them. My family is not just a pile of ash scattering in the cold breeze. They are here with me, every step of the way.

I know you are watching, my love. When this is all over, there will only be you. Death cannot steal you from me.

Netherstream: Diary of the Undead - Entry #9

13 October - 2:33 P.M.

She spots me in the distance and takes off her shiny, mirrored helmet. Blond wisps of hair fall out and are caught by the wind, trailing off into infinity. Her blue eyes pierce me from a mile away and electrify the otherwise dull landscape. Slowly she removes her body armor, revealing a skin-tight black jumpsuit with a silver zipper down the middle. She runs her fingers through her golden hair and steps towards me. Could this really be happening?

Her hands trace over her shapely breasts before making their way towards the zipper. She hesitates at first and then gradually pulls down the zipper. It’s a hot day, after all—what must a girl do to cool off these days? Midway down, I begin to see the edges of her magnificent cleavage. Great heavens. She wants me. She really wants me!

I’m ready to jump off the balcony and slay a million zombies with a plastic fork until I feel the cool edge of the barrel against my head. Quickly she zips herself up and crosses her arms. Not this time. Not ever.

Her betrayal is the last thing I ponder before my captor pulls the trigger. Yes, please…shoot me in the head…

My gruesome departure springs me back to reality. I rub my eyes and try to shake the vision from my head.

I can fantasize, right? I mean, what hurt could that do?

A lot, actually.

Perhaps I should get a dog.

Netherstream: Diary of the Undead - Entry #8

13 October - 2:20 P.M.

Jeezzz…how long has it been since I’ve seen a woman? One that’s alive, that is. Or one that hasn’t wanted to kick me in the nuts and make off with my ammunition and supplies?

Women. They make life much more interesting and far less lonely…

What am I saying? Am I honoring the memory of my wife and children by slobbering over another woman? It’s not like I’ve seen her face yet, and she’d probably kill me if she knew I was out here.

I said that I’d never love another woman and I meant it. Bethany still occupies a special place in my heart and there isn’t room for another. Besides, I’d just compare my new love with Bethany and that isn’t fair to anyone.

It’s been almost a year since my wife’s death, and I must seek the help of others. But I’m at peace going it alone, and in charge of my own destiny. There’s no one else to blame but me.

And what would my wife say if she were dying? Would she tell me to move on and find another? Would I wish the same? Though I might say these words with the world slipping from my grasp, I’d never want another man between my wife’s legs. Ever. Surely she’d feel the same.

No, my wife would want me to survive and that’s it. Maybe even write a book about it. It’s too risky getting close to others. Another woman would mean the end of me, Game Over. So I will honor her request and find a way to endure.

No beer, no drugs and certainly no women.

Damn.