I broke into the electronics store across the street and stole this laptop. Wifi is still available, for some reason, but most of the sites aren't loading.
Not that it matters.
I should start from the beginning. My name is Carol Bell. My therapist says I need an outlet for my excess enerergies before I kill someone in this Settlement. There aren't many of us left, maybe twenty people, so the casualty would be considered unnecessary. I'm exaggerating of course. I wouldn't actually kill someone.
We have enough supplies to last us another three months. I'll see if that applies in three months.
Start from the beginning. Gotta start from the beginning. Okay.
My name is Carol Bell. I was a CUNY student. And then everyone died or got gassed up and crazy, and now there's twenty of us left in this borough and the radio is run out of batteries and when I took this laptop I picked up a couple of CC instead of AA, and no amount of cursing at Duracell will fix my mistake. I'll have to go back tomorrow.
Confused? Okay. This is what happened.
Politics were not my forte. I wasn't paying attention, and now I'm not sure. The websites don't say much, and Wikipedia only works some of the time. It's not really clear who started it first, but there's confirmation that it was a bioweapon of some sort. And we, the yoo ess of ay, pissed off some people and sided with some people that pissed off other people and it kind of all happened at the same time.
But what matters, what I do know, is that someone, or a couple of someones, took a bite out of a contaminated fried chicken in Manhattan Mall, and within the week everyone in New York City got sick and crazy. And they're hungry for brains, but any kind of flesh will do.
Yeah. I know. Don't ask me why or how. We call them Jimmies, because Sean doesn't like the word zombies. But it doesn't change what it is, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around this, and part of me is hoping this is just some kind of bad dream I'll wake up from and maybe I'll forget what my parents looked like when I finally made it home.
Run on sentences. Fucking run on sentences.
Mitchell is coming. It's time for me to watch. Patrol the building. Hope I don't have to shoot rotting people who keep running and screaming unless you shoot them in the head.
I wonder if I can weasel some vending machine chips from the stash. I'm getting kind of hungry.