Day 11

We’re starting to more reports on the internet of the Undead being seen in NY State, Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, and parts of New Jersey. There have also been reports that they are in Quebec and Manitoba. It’s frightening to see how the epidemic is radiating outward from Toronto. It appears to be growing everyday. Every hour. And we’re beginning to realize that there is no way that anyone or anything that will be able to stop the Undead.

There have been no reports, and I mean ZERO reports, of any militarized response of any level on any of the news outlets or websites. Where are they? Why has no one responded? What are they waiting for? You have to ask yourself if it’s possible that they have responded and that things just didn’t go as expected so the Military is covering up what can only be described as an epic failure on American soil… Maybe there isn’t anyone left in the Military to care about that failure. Are the scrambling to mount a secondary defense? It doesn’t help that both Max and Bob are ex-Military. Even they are surprised at the lack of response. No Military, no Police, NOTHING!

We do have to take into account that we may no longer travelling through the infected zones but still… Why does it seem like no one is doing anything?

We were stopped late last night by a small town Sheriff’s Department Deputy. He looked young and his face showed how tired he was. I thought it likely that he had stopped us just for something to do. His reason for pulling us over was that we were travelling too fast down the major 2 lane highway that cut through that particular part of the state. The fact that there wasn’t another soul on this road didn’t seem to matter. His flashlight illuminated briefly on each of our faces before he asked Max for his license and the registration for the truck.

Moment of truth; Max’s license was from Ontario which was not a crime but might be enough to prompt this deputy to make our lives a little more difficult. And then there was the truck… The one we had borrowed in Michigan from the long-term parking facility. We had no way of knowing if the owner had returned and found the truck missing, making the truck we were currently sitting in officially stolen. And of course there was the fact that the name on the registration would only match one of ours if this were a story full of impossible coincidences.

Max handed over the paperwork and as the Deputy’s flashlight panned down to look at it, the light caught the glint of a barrel of a shotgun between the seats. He took a closer look in the truck and saw the arsenal at the ready. He pulled his service revolver and asked us where we were headed. Max was honest and told him as far away from the Undead as possible.

The truth didn’t seem to sit well with the Deputy. He ordered all of us to slowly exit the car one at a time. It was like a standoff in one of those old Black and White western movies – there was no way that we were getting out of that car unarmed and he was just as unlikely to lower his weapon.

Now, I don’t know why he didn’t use the radio strapped to his shoulder to call for back-up. He just stood there staring at us as if in disbelief of who he had encountered. Possibly something that could potentially viewed terrorism or worse. You could see the wheels turning in his head; trying to figure out how he was going to get us to surrender when he was clearly outnumbered.

Seconds seemed like hours. He could open fire at any time and wound or kill any one of us. No words passed between us. The silence was deafening.


It came out of the darkness. There was no betraying scent to give it away. Just a soft whisper of its feet on the ground. And then the blood-curdling screams of the deputy and the panicked shot that barely missed the truck. We heard a thump against the bumper and knew it was time to leave.

Slimy, putrefying hands snaked into the open window almost laying purchase to Max as he turned the truck on. The surprise of the moment threw all of us off for a second but quickly the handguns and windows all came up. We could still hear the dying screams of the deputy in the still of the night.

With the windows up, we felt a small bit safer. We still knew what was out in the darkness and there was a part of us that wanted to know how many had managed to get this far. We knew that they couldn’t have been from neighbouring towns mainly because there was no news of the infection getting this far. It was just so odd that they had managed to catch up when we were now travelling by vehicle.

The the realization hit me; these must be people who had tried to get away from it and then ended up trusting the wrong person. Someone in their group who must have been hiding a bite or scratch. It was sad if only for the fact that people had to know what they were going to turn into if they got infected. As a group, we had already made a pact to be honest about possible bites or scratches. We knew that our honesty was going to help keep us alive and I will state now that I trust these men implicitly as I’m sure they trust me. We have come too far and have too much to lose to put it all on the line now.

Hands smacked against my window and a bloodied ashen face pressed up next to me, it’s mouth moving in a mockery of mastication. The headlights had now illuminated a few of the wanderers, those that look almost confused about what their new role in undeath was. The world around us getting darker as they closed in on the idling truck.

Max put the car into gear, not wasting any time putting the scene and the Undead as far in the rear view mirror as possible. We now know that we’re not safe yet and that we may never be…. Pray for life, please.

The Next Day

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