Thank you for visiting. I have been a fan of the zombie genre for some time now, enough that I decided to try my hand at serious writing. My first series, White Flag of the Dead, chronicles the experiences of a man who is trying to survive a plague of the infected dead, and keep his son alive as well. It is a story of desperation, survival, and hope. It is a story that reminds us the most important thing is not just being alive, but living. Hope you enjoy.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Duncan's Diary

Just for kicks, we worked our way along the canal, trying to clear out a path for anyone to use.  It wasn't easy, since the canal was fenced most of the way, but it worked in our favor keeping the zombies out. 
We could see the debris of flight all over the place, things people took with them only to realize they had no value or were too cumbersome. 
The weird stuff we encountered quite a bit were tied-up zombies.  They must have been loved ones left behind once their famlies realized they weren't going to get any better.  They couldn't kill them, so they just left them.  Easier on the conscience, I guess.
We moved cautiously to the northeast, passing by a number of subdivisions that had been hit hard.  The vegetation had been very helpful concealing our movements, but once in a while we really had to take it slow.  All it took was for one Z to spot us, and the rest would come running.  We knew the fence could hold a few of them, but if a hundred hit it at once, the whole thing was going to come down and we were going to do some swimming. 
Actually, we weren't.  One of the guys had a bright idea to bring along a small bass boat and it trailed in the water.  If things got bad, that was our escape.
We came up to a loading platform for a small quarry, and there were a couple of channel boats sitting quietly by the docks.  The water of the canal lapped quietly against their hulls as we looked over the small operation.  There wasn't anything we needed from this place, but we wanted to make sure it was clear so we didn't have to worry about surprises.
In this world, surprises killed you.

I stepped up to the small foreman's building and looked inside.  It seemed quiet so I shouldered my weapon and pushed the door open.

Right away I wished I hadn't.

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