Day 1 in the colony: The last of us stumbled through the door, which was slammed shut beside us. A nurse checked us over for wounds, and we were separated into three groups – “uninjured”, “injured, not bitten”, and “injured, possibly bitten”. People in the third group were herded away from the rest. I didn’t see them again – maybe if they were infected, they were left for dead outside. Those of us who stayed got a bowl of beans and a short orientation – beds, bathrooms, etc.
The orientation was interrupted by a commotion at the door. A soldier burst in, carrying a wounded dog. “I need some help for Sparky!” A woman rushed over and administered first aid to the dog. I limped over to see what was happening, and overheard the soldier and the woman - a doctor - talking.
“The school’s not safe anymore. Bev’s lost it, she’s got a gun and she’s shooting at anyone that comes close, including apparently dogs.”
I looked at the dog, who was putting on a brave face despite being bandaged and splattered with blood. What’s this world done to us, that someone could be so mean to such a good boy?
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Day 3: Still recovering. We had fresh meat in today’s rations. Someone said it was horse. How would you even get fresh horse meat around here?
The doctor came by to make sure I was recovering well from my wounds. I asked if she was the only doctor at the colony. She mentioned that she did have a resident with her when she got here, but he betrayed the colony by hoarding medicines to satisfy an addiction. The colony voted to expel him. What evils will people resort to in these times?
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Day 8: After a week here, I decided it was time to start pulling my weight. I volunteered for duty defending the walls against zombies who got through the barricades. The sheriff was organizing the volunteers. I noticed the ninja guy who brought us here whispering in the sheriff’s ear and pointing at me. It turns out they didn’t have enough weapons for all the volunteers and one had to stay off the barricades. After whatever the ninja guy said, the sheriff made me take a seat. He took the dog instead. I guess I’ll need to find something else to do to earn my daily beans.
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Day 13: Today I tried to help build barricades. I guess I still need to build up my strength; not only could I not secure any boards, I couldn’t even hold any steady for anyone else. After the third time I dropped a board as someone was swinging a hammer, I got told to take a rest before I hurt myself or someone else. Tonight, when I was getting my rations, I looked over at the barricades and Sparky was somehow holding a hammer and teaching a kid how to use it. I have to find something I can do better than that stupid dog or I’m going to lose it.
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Day 16: I tried again to sign up for defense duty, and again was turned down. As I was heading back to my bunk, a guy with close-cut hair and no eyebrows walked up to me. “Hey, it looks like you want to help. I could use some help.” Eager to find something I could do to help the colony, I followed him. He introduced himself as Edward and said that he wanted to test a new way to fight zombies. He led me to a table full of cans of fertilizer. I wasn’t sure how he was going to defend us against the zombies with faster-growing plants, but I didn’t have anything better to do. Turns out this guy was a chemist, and he was trying to make some kind of bomb. At least I assume so, because once he was done with whatever he was doing, the table exploded. Now I know why Edward didn’t have any eyebrows.
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Day 20: I gave up on signing up for defense duty, and took a post on my own, using a barricade board as a weapon. When the zombies came, I was ready. I swung as hard as I could, only to fall down from the force of my swing. I heard a bark from behind me, and Sparky leapt over me, grabbing the zombie’s arm and tearing it off. He then nudged me with his nuzzle. I know he wanted us to think he was checking on me, but I know he was just showing off, telling me that this was another thing he could do that I couldn’t.
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Day 23: My former next-door neighbor, Forest, showed up at the colony today. He was dressed as Santa Claus and had whiskey on his breath, which isn’t any different than he was before the zombies came. The dog growled at him until he left, then we heard him scream when the zombies ate him. It was the best day of our stay in the colony.
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Day 26: When picking up my rations today, I overheard someone telling the cook that there were too many mouths to feed and that “some people are pulling their weight while others just create it”. He suggested leaving the “dead weight” outside so the colony could lighten its load. I’ve been here almost a month, and I’m certain he was including me in that. Before I sat down, I grabbed a crowbar. You try anything, and we’ll see who’s dead weight, buddy.
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Day 28: I tried to make my move on Dead Weight Guy before he could do anything to me. I snuck up behind him when he was asleep, raised the crowbar over my head, and swung down, hitting him with… nothing at all. The crowbar wasn’t in my hand. I turned around to see what had happened, and I saw Sparky walking away with the crowbar in his mouth. He’s stronger than me, more skilled than me, and apparently sneakier and smarter than me, too. I hate that dog.
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Day 32: I volunteered for search duty today. We made it maybe three steps out of the colony before I tripped on a piece of barricade and broke my ankle. The rest of the search party continued; they had a grocery store to search. I don’t know if anyone even noticed that I wasn’t with them at first. After a few minutes, I heard a sniffing noise, then a sharp bark. Turns out Sparky was better at searching for me than I was at searching for supplies.
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Day 37: I can’t take this feeling of helplessness anymore. I know I’m supposed to be grateful to be alive, but what’s the point of being alive if I can’t do anything? I found out where they’re keeping the weapons. I snuck out a gun. I made a move to give them one less mouth to feed… and the gun clicked. The soldier, Thomas, heard it and came over to me. He took the gun out of my hand. “This is why they keep the bullets somewhere else.” Then he looked me squarely in the eye. “You know, it’s not useless or helpless to just endure in these times. We all need to carry on however we can.”
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Day 38: Thomas is dead. He was out on a search party, and someone fired a gun at a zombie when he wasn’t expecting it. He lost his composure and starting firing at everyone, zombie and human alike. The ninja guy said he had to take him out, or they’d have lost the entire party.
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Day 45: My ankle’s finally healed enough to support my weight. I volunteered for janitorial duty. This was supposed to be simple – take discarded cans and spoiled food out the back door. I slipped. I dropped what I was carrying. It spilled everywhere. Brandon, the head janitor, threw his mop down in anger and started screaming at me for being completely useless. The damn dog picked up the mop and started cleaning up after me.
I’m so tired.
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Addendum: The author of this account was prevented from completing it by her untimely death. To honor her memory, I have done my best to collect her journal and will do my best to elucidate her end.
Today, the barricades failed, and zombies attacked the main camp. We lost half our number, including Sheriff Smith, Mike Cho the “ninja guy”, and the author of this journal. However, many of us survived due to courageous and quick action by this presumed-helpless survivor at a critical moment. I was assisting with the defense of the camp, attacking zombies with a crowbar. I thought that the growls and barks I heard were Sparky protecting my flank, as he often does when we are searching together. But when I turned to make sure Sparky was holding the line, I saw that he was not barking and growling to protect my flank - he was trying to attract the attention of the zombies that had gotten between us, and he was failing.
Then, to my left, there came a tremendous racket, and the zombies and I were suddenly covered in food waste. I glanced over and saw a member of this colony whose name I had not learned doing everything in her power to bring the zombies toward her - throwing barricade materials to the ground, flinging waste, shouting, and so on. Her gambit worked; the zombies left me and Sparky alone and went to her instead. Sadly, Sparky and I were unable to prevent the inevitable result of drawing the attention of zombies, although we did kill them afterward and separate her head from her body to ensure she would not rise as one of the undead.
After the fight, I found scattered pages of her journal, and did what came most familiar to me - I read them. I hope that the woman who penned this account found, in her final moments, solace in two things: First, that she was able to be of help not only in her own endurance, but in that of the colony, and second, that she finally found something - getting the attention of zombies - that she could do better than Sparky.
-Alexis Grey, colony librarian