Fresh Faces

Hi, I’m Frank. I’m writing this note, bottling it, and tossing it in the creek by my house. Writing helps me keep my sanity. Hopefully, somebody who still reads will pick it up and be able to help me.

A month ago, it began. Watching old J Horton videos on YouTube in my basement office. As the phone rang next to me, I paid no attention to it. It was never for me; when it was, it was usually my brother, and half the time my nephew was trying to grab it himself and talk to me. My mother yelled down the stairs that I needed to pick up the phone. Yeah, I lived at home with my folks. Sue me. Anyway, I picked up

“Hello?” I said, Hello who is this?

A whimper of a voice announced, "it's begun.". I didn’t even recognize the voice.

Please excuse me. ” Wondering who on earth was calling, I asked.

There isn't much time left, Jeff; you told me to call if what we did caused trouble.

Concerned, I replied, "I think you have the wrong number, this is Frank, not Jeff."

“DON'T GO OUTSIDE! The person screamed. As I was completely freaked out, I disconnected the call. Probably a prank caller, but I wasn't amused. Having been rattled, I put the matter behind me.

After watching videos for a while, I turned off the lights to go upstairs. Despite the pitch blackness, I knew my way. This time, however, the darkness seemed more oppressive. As I walked upstairs, I shrugged off the feeling. I glanced out the window as I passed through the living room. I checked my watch and it said 3:00 a.m. There were people outside, on a walk or something. I muttered, "That's weird.". Then, I crawled into my upstairs bedroom and fell asleep.

That first night, I was a fool. I would have stepped outside if I had recognized what I'd seen.

The next morning, the news was on; odd, since my dad usually turned to the sports channel before we went off to work. I didn’t even glance at it as I threw on a tie and stumbled into the bathroom. An uneasy feeling crept into my gut as I did my morning routine. I usually had to fight for bathroom space, but today there wasn’t a sound. I peeked out of the room and saw that the front door was open, but the glass storm door wasn’t. There wasn’t a sound. Looking outdoors, I saw those same people as I’d seen the night before

I opened the door.

Their heads snapped towards me immediately. After recoiling, I leaped inside as quickly as possible, feeling something grab at my ankle. Blood was dripping from their mouths and their faces were fixed in expressionless gazes. One was right next to the porch, withdrawing its arm; it had tried to grab me. I recognized my little brother with a dizzying feeling of horror. Slamming the door, I locked it tightly and stumbled back into the living room. The television was reporting that a disease was spreading south from New York across the U.S. When I turned it off, I called out to see if anyone else was home.

No answer.

This was the beginning of my solitary life. The news ran for a few days before they were caught. Kept making the stupidest mistake, going home every night. Someone left the factory's switch on, so the electricity has remained on. I don't know, maybe it's just northern Pennsylvania that's overrun. I've also been without the internet, which is annoying.

During the news report, they called them zombies, going back to an old term. As far as I can tell, it works. Their legs rot out from under them, and then they crawl until they fall to pieces; they don't do a whole lot, and they're definitely dead. They walk around until their legs rot out, and then they crawl until they fall to pieces. They're fast, though, while they've got legs. My family was probably jumped that way. There was also a police car that drove up to the house to see if anyone was alive. It wasn't fun to see that every day. My car got overturned while they chased him, so I'm stuck. Once again, the cops come to the rescue. Since they didn't really need food, they didn't finish eating him. He couldn't get up and join them because they dismembered him. Although he was gnashing his teeth in frustration.

A guy on the radio pointed out about a week ago that they were falling apart, so we just had to wait. He got impatient and went outside. Nobody’s been on the radio for two weeks.

The problem is, I'm in deep trouble. There is no food left in the house. I can't wait for them all to die again. I've been to the general store a couple of times. I was lucky to have that sword collection upstairs. While they're all too slow to catch me, there are so many that I sometimes freak out. The last time, they nearly caught me. Now that I have broken the front door, the cold seeps in every night, and I can see one standing on the porch right now, not ten feet from where I am writing this. Indoors, you're safe. Why do they hate being inside? Don't ask me. Whatever the reason, it has been a lifeline for me. Despite this, they seem to be aware that someone is alive inside. The man on the front step doesn't even have eyes anymore, don't ask me how. Perhaps they can hear a heartbeat or smell the sweat. Blood is also an option.

It took me a couple of days to name them. There were some faces that I recognized, and I gave their old names to them. For the last few weeks, the same old gang has been hanging around here, slowly dwindling in number as they fall apart. However, they have never wandered off. The number of men who were once men is 69, and the number of women is 60. With our shotgun, I once shot one in the head just to see what would happen. To see if the old adage "shoot a zombie in the head and they will die for good" was true. It turns out I've got 69 former men, 59 former women, and one former woman who kept standing even after losing 80% of its head. And I’m down one shotgun shell.

As a result, they wait. My head is spinning, and I'm losing it. Last night, I ate a stuffed animal and talked to myself constantly. Cotton went down hard, but it felt good to have something in my stomach again. It's November in Pittsburgh, so there are no fruit trees. It has become increasingly difficult to find water. Fortunately, I filled the bathtub and every bottle I could find before the tap water stopped working eight days ago

That's great. A buzzing sound is coming from the lamp now that it's getting brighter. The power seems to be going out

That wasn't fun at all. Four days of a total power outage. Have you ever tried sleeping in the dark knowing that there are things just outside that can kill you and turn you into one of them the first chance they get? I think so since these things seem to be everywhere. A quick update: Remember Mike, the man on my porch? His leg has fallen off, so he is sitting down, sniffing it. All higher brain functions are lost thank goodness. In my opinion, these things aren't holding the soul hostage, but are merely the disease (or whatever) trying to spread throughout the population as far as it can.

Reader, I don't know if you've noticed this, but the animals seem untouched. There's a small comfort in that. The animal dies if it eats the flesh, but it doesn't get up again once it dies. That's weird, isn't it? Hunger and desperation are consuming me. Perhaps I can load the old .22 and bag a squirrel.

Having said that, I'm a bit more optimistic now that you're out there. If there weren't people working to restore order, the power wouldn't have come back. The time has come to drop this into the creek with a sword. I'm feeling fortunate. Maybe this whole thing is almost over.

It's possible. If it is nearly over, on the other hand...

Why are there so many fresh faces outside today?