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, April 4, 2011

Duncan's Diary

The inside of the room was a disaster.  It looked like someone had holed up in the place, hoping the zombies would pass them by, or maybe they would be able to catch a ride down the canal.  Why they didn't take one of the tugs was beyond my understanding.  In any case, there were the identifiable remains of a man and woman, plus a couple of children corpses.  Bits of flesh were in every corner, along with scraps of clothing and some survival gear.  I didn't see any spent casings on the floor, so I guess this family was unarmed when they had been attacked.  Their meager belongings were still in the corner.  Some backpacks, a container of water, and a baby bag.
I looked around, but I didn't see any evidence of any babies.  I wasn't surprised, though.  A large zombie can completely eat an infant in twenty minutes. 
I wish I was kidding.
I took my kerosene bottle from my pack and squirted some on what was left of the family.  I sprayed some on the walls, the smell very powerful in the small room.
As I stepped back out of the room, I tossed a match in, igniting the fuel and starting the pyre. As I walked out of the shed, I walked around slowly.  Outside of one window, there was a bloodstained blanket on the ground.  I walked over and picked it up, and a small object fell out of it. 
I squatted down to pick it up, then stood back up quickly when I saw what it was.  Reaching down with the blanket, I picked up the severed infant's finger and tossed both into the shed, putting the remains of the family's baby with it's parents. 
The smoke from the burning shed spiraled lazily into the sky, and I watched the flames finish off the work of the zombies. 
I guess when the zombies attacked, the mother tried to save her child by getting it out of the shed, hoping it might stay quiet enough for the zombies to pass it by, praying another family might come along in time to save it.

I hate zombies.

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