I can see the city lights burn

No time to look up clever lyrics. Not today.

My parents often call me into the room to watch "History being made". She does this a lot, but this time I actually cared. Because zombies.

"Alright, we need to find a black guy."

"Quiet."

I guess we've all seen the news.

We sat there for a few minutes. Then we all started moving. More on that later. Oh, and outbreak map.

There seem to be a few isolated cases of zombies trying to get home, as strange as this seems. They're wading out into the ocean, and a few of the less decomposed ones are swimming. The others just...float. Some sink. Thankfully, no one has died in out house. Or rather, no one who lived here has died. I don't think.

I hope Ali's okay.

The funny thing is, the zombies immediately kill anyone they find at their old place, then start moving out from there and killing anyone they see.

I'm fairly sure this can't be natural. To turn a phrase from scans_daily, viruses don't work that way. They can't. This must be magic or something. I'd tempted to say it's some punishment for idolatry, but that sounds too much like Jerry Falwell.

I wonder how he's doing?

The internet, of course, has imploded.

My internet has been spotty for the past week; it finally gets back to normal, just in time for the Zombie Apoclypse.

There are plenty of vids on YouTube. Every blog, every website, as turned to this, rules be damned. One of the saddest things was Brian Ashcraft posting from frikkin' Japan about what happened to his

Deep breathing exercise No 1: Inhale. Put all of your tension your fear your worry into that breath. Exhale.

LJ is staggering along, but JournalFen is slightly better. The good little soldiers over there are still posting wank about this.

LJ...has just gone nuts.

There is a zombie fandom.

There are people writing frakkin' fanfic for the zombies.

And not regular fanfic. Slash loli necrophilia fanfic. Like, what would Orochimaru do with Sasuke if

You know, I thought 4chan had inured me to this kind of thing.

Maybe because it's real now.

Incidentally;

Oh you wacky /b/ tards.

There are some crazies arguing that we should all welcome the zombie way of life. If you see any of them, dispatch them as quickly and quietly as possible.

Some others were scanning and posting bits from the Zombie Survival Handbook, or whatever it is.

My family has been barricaded inside all day. We're trying to leave tommorow. We're not far from the coast. There'll be boats.

God, let there be boats.

We're trying to get some sleep. Nothing to speak of since the dog got in. Besides the gunfire, and moaning, and some dick who tried to jack our cars screaming, of course. We live a literal stone's throw away from a major road, and...nothing. Silence.

We had just finished watching the news when there was some scratching at the back door. We opened it, and the dog walked in.

Can they smell fear?

The dog growled in a funny way, then jumped for my throat. I was holding a stick-to fight them off-and managed to throw it off without getting bit. It went for the stick, it was almost through it-the smell-when I tossed it onto the stove. It hit the backstop, and was just getting up when my sister nailed it with a cast iron skillet. Mum turned on the gas, and for a few seconds there was nothing but the sound of frying dog and our screams.

So yeah.

We're taking the laptop; if we don't make it, at least something will survive. Zombies don't seem to be too interested in checking their MySpace; they're going for people, not infrastructure.

I always thought it'd be natural causes, don't you? I'd go quietly in my bed, after spending my last few decades lucid and walking and able to wipe myself.

All that stuff I wish I did.

Of course, I might more easily be dead if I was in college. Think about it; a densly packed mass of rich, edumacated brains.

Mum keeps folding and unfolding underwear. Somehow, I don't think clean FTLs will be of much importance.

It's getting pretty stuffy in here.

If we make it, we're leaving tomorrow. If we were heading in that direction, if the bookstore in question weren't in the centre of town, I'd suggest that we stop so I could pick up the rest of the Horatio Hornblower series. I'm not going out without finishing it, not if I can help it.

Which I can't.

Pray for m
//like a thousand miles of fire

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