Sabrina Marsh,

Date: Unknown

Journal Entry #47

            It’s been 120 days since the outbreak. 40 since I have been on my own. And 3 without food, water, medical supplies, or even ammo. I can’t begin to describe how hard this has all been. Almost a year ago everything seemed so normal. And now this. Everywhere you look there is a new walker around. Scavenging. Hunting. Killing. Just trying to survive, like all of us who are living. They’re vicious. They do not care if you are a man, woman, child, or even if you are critically injured. They’re dead. Yet they’re alive. The living dead. No, the walking dead. They only seek death, blood, and food.

This outbreak has changed everyone. Me, my husband, and everyone we used to know have changed. Guess it’s for the better. For most people that is. I’ve done things I have never thought I would ever do or have to do in my entire life in order to stay alive for this long. I’ve robbed, stolen from, beaten, and killed innocent people who were only trying to survive. Every day I just wish I could wake up and that this would all just be a dream. That I could just wake up and hug my son just once more. He was only two years old when a walker got him. To this day the image of my parents, sister and even my own child all lying on the ground silent, bleeding, dying, haunts me to this very day. I still miss them and think of them every day of my life. I know they would want me to keep going and do my best. But some days, like everyone else, I just think it would be easier having a bullet in my chest.

You would think after almost a year I would have grown a thick skin and forgotten about the past. Especially when I should be staying focused so I don’t get my head bitten off by a walker. But no. I’m still the same fragile person who will forever be haunted by what she has seen and been through this past year. Nobody should ever have to be subjected to any of this. But none of that will matter if I can’t find food and ammo soon. If I can’t, I’ll be dead by morning. It doesn’t help that winter is right around the corner as well. Or, at least, I think it is. It’s hard to tell these days. Time flies when you’re living in utter chaos. I need to find a building to stay in before winter hits. If I don’t there’s no doubt I’ll freeze to death no matter how much food I find. A small little campfire can only keep you so warm. A building would also help keep me out of reach from walkers. So much to do, so many distractions, and so little time.

How have I made it this far? How have I not died yet? I know so little about survival…..yet……here I am.

     "Maybe I should get some rest. I'll figure this all out in the morning." I went to lay my head down to get some sleep but just then I hear a rustling noise behind me. "For the love of god please don't be a walker". I jump and grab my hatchet out of instinct. I couldn't feel anything but fear as I gripped my weapon as tightly as possible.

     The rustling stopped. I stood there silent not ready to let me guard down for a single instant. I learned not to let me guard down so fast the hard way. I was lucky to have not been alone that night. I surely would have been bitten if it weren't for him. I waited for a good five to ten minutes before I decided it was probably just some stray animal. I sat by my fire again and just relaxed, doing exactly what I shouldn't do as I proceeded to let my guard down. Big mistake.

     Next thing I know, I am flat on my stomach with my face in the dirt. I was able to get my head to turn to see what or who had me pinned and, just my luck, it was a fresh, new, walker. "Damn it! Not tonight motherfucker!" I thought to myself as I grabbed my hatchet. Luckily, my weapon was just in reach as I swung it behind me full force, knocking the damned thing off of me. I quickly got back up and started swinging down at the disgusting pile of rotting flesh that was lying down right in front of me. Like most zombies, it only takes a few good whacks before they're dead.

     I stopped swinging once I was sure he was dead. Great. Just washed up in the river nearby and now I'm covered in zombie blood again. Just then a shooting pain went up my side. "Fuck!" how hard did I hit the ground? It couldn't have been that hard considering I was sitting down. I looked at the ground and realized that when I had fallen over, I had also hit a sharp rock. That would explain the pain in my ribs. Guess I just didn't feel it while my adrenaline was pumping. I grab my side and felt something sticky. Blood? Fan-fucking-tastic. I have no medical supplies what so ever and I cut open my side. Examining the area, I noticed that at least isn’t deep enough for stitches nor is there any blood from that monster near it. I should be able to stop the bleeding. I opened up my backpack, which also happened to have some zombie blood on it and started searching. Luckily, I had one extra shirt with me that I recently washed, to the best of my ability, in the nearby river. Tearing a piece long enough to wrap around my waist, I wrapped it and tied it tight hoping that will stop the bleeding long enough for me to try and sleep. I wish I didn't have to sleep in the middle of the forest. But, then again, it’s better than sleeping out in the open roads or by the river. And it's not like I have anywhere else to go. I'd still better sleep with one eye open though.

     I awoke the next morning lucky to be alive. As I said, it is very risky to sleep in the middle of the forest. It's even more dangerous to do this alone. But, then again I remember him saying something about being covered in their blood hides your scent and if they can't smell you they won't hurt you. If there is anything I don't regret about him, it was this advice. Because last night, it kept me alive.

     I stood up, still in pain, and proceeded to begin the daily hunt. Food, shelter, weapons, and ammo, and medical supplies. All things I don't have. All things that are sparse and not easy to find these days. I could probably be even better off finding other people who are also on their own because, truth be told, part of me still has absolutely no clue what I am doing. I am lucky to be alive. I need help. I need wisdom. I need someone...soon. But first, I need to wash up. I made my way to the river and cleaned myself and my clothing to get rid of the stench of death. I changed into the one shirt I had left even though the bottom half of it is now gone because of my wound when suddenly, I was caught off guard by a loud gunshot close by and two grown men yelling at each other.

     "Jesus fucking Christ Anthony! You almost got us killed you incompetent fool! Go back to the shelter. You’re no help to me here you damn idiot."

     "It was a mistake Marcus! Lighten up asshole! I'm fucking trying!"

     People! This can either go horrendously or it can save my life. I don't have any other options at this point. I need help. I decided to silently and carefully approach them keeping my weapon in hand. Please, please, don't shoot me.

     "Anthony, shut up for a minute...did you hear that?"

     "Hear what? You being a fu..."

     "I said shut up!" The man the other person called Marcus repeated as he stopped to listen to my approaching footsteps. As I got into sight he immediately pointed his shot gun right at my head and I stopped, throwing my hands up.

     "Please. Just let me sp..."

     "Drop your weapon!" he said as he nudged his gun in the direction of my hatchet. I slowly lowered the weapon to the ground and got back up with my hands back in the air. 

     "Kick it over here." I hesitated at his command. "You heard me bitch! Now!" I hesitated once more before giving it a swift kick towards them. He picked it up and tucked it into his belt. He cocked his gun about to shoot as my eyes welled up between pain and fear. "Who are you and why shouldn't I blow your brains out all over the place?" he questioned in what I can only assume to be a southern accent.

     "H...ugh...hear me out. Please. My name is Sabrina Marsh. I am by myself, I promise. I approached you because I need help. In case you have not noticed my poor bandage job, I am injured." He quickly re-aimed. "Wait!! I swear! I am not infected! You can look at the cut if you want! I am not lying to you!"

     He looked carefully at my bandages. "Anthony." He called. "Take my gun and do not, I repeat DO NOT take your aim off of her. So help me god if you fuck this up too..."

    "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Shit." Anthony took the gun and aimed at me precisely as Marcus carefully made his way to me. Marcus stared me down intensely. The mistrust in this tall muscular man was very clear. I kept my hands up and he walked around me closely inspecting every detail.

    "Remove the bandage and put your hands on your head. Now." He demanded. It was hard to disobey such a scary man even if I wanted to. Between his dark eyes that were filled with anger, his stature at, I assume, six foot two, and his masculine square jaw which was so obviously clenched as though he was holding back from screaming at me. 

     I slowly lowered my arms and removed my makeshift bandage to reveal the scabbed over puncture I received from a stone. I placed my hands on top of my head as he patted me down for other weapons. After finding none he got down on his knees to more closely examine the wound. Meanwhile, Anthony kept his sharp hazel eyes directly on me. His stance was poor even for a man with an average body type such as him. His arms started to shake slightly as if he could not carry the weight of Marcus's double barrel shotgun. 

     I immediately shifted my focus back to Marcus as I suddenly felt a shock of pain. I stared down at his dark brown hair as he was still staring at my wound. He seemed to be picking off pieces of the scab and examining them. I tried not to make any sudden movements or noises but I couldn't stop my face from cringing. The wound still hurt and he was poking and picking at it. Although I understood his reasoning, I wished he would stop. Based on the pain, I was well aware that an infection was starting already.

     He stood up after his careful examination and tried to look me in the face as I was staring at the ground trying to hide the obvious pain I was feeling. "Well? Do you believe me now?" I asked a little bit sarcastically.

     "One last thing." He stated. I looked up at him holding back the tears. "Remove your backpack. Just to be sure you're not hiding anything."

    I did not fight and I just complied to his request. I took my backpack off my shoulders and just dropped it at his back dirty boots. He immediately picked up the bag and started searching through it. In this moment, a few short minutes felt like hours knowing that at any moment his friend could pull the trigger given the word if Marcus were to find something out of the ordinary. I decided to speak up. "I swear I'm not hiding anything. I just want help." As the words left my mouth, Anthony suddenly got a better grip on the gun. My hands flew back up.

    "Put the gun down Ant. She’s clear. She doesn't even have any supplied with her and her wound is definitely not that of a zombies doing." He stated. Anthony proceeded to lower the gun with caution. "So what are you doing out here without a group? More importantly how have you survived with nothing but a tiny axe?"

     "I ask myself the same thing every day." I stated as I kept my hands in the air.

     "You can take your hands down. You won't be hurting anybody in your state." I lowered my arms as he said this still fearful that I would be killed at any moment. "Relax. I won't kill you. I can't promise the same for the others though."

     "O...others?" I asked a little taken aback. They seemed to be on their own.

     "You need serious medical attention. Although I still don't trust you, if the zombies don't kill you, that infection will doll. It's a miracle you have survived this long."

     "I don't trust her Marcus. And you know the others will be damn pissed if we bring another injured woman back when we are low on supplies as it is." Anthony said suspiciously.

     "I'll just grab my stuff and leave. You don't need to take me in." I stated as I picked up my backpack. "I can always find a new weapon."

     "I don't trust her either Ant. But the way I see it is, we stitch up her wound, take care of the infection and she’s gone. Jan doesn't have to know a damn thing."

     "But...shit. Okay. Fine. But she leaves right after before Jan can find out we did any of this. Otherwise, you know as well as I do Jan will kick us out immediately and then we'll be on our own."

     "If this Jan person kicks you out because of me, you guys can join me. Consider it a plan B. Then you guys won’t be stuck annoying each other and I'll be with people who know what they are doing. Deal?" I know I should keep my mouth shut but it sounded like a good option for both of us."

     "I don't know about that. Just because I'm stitching you up, doesn't mean I trust or like you. That is why you are going to be in and out. Got it?" And suddenly the stern man that was suspicious of me was back.

     "I understand." As I complied, he took an old dirty frayed rope and tied my wrists together and took the excess rope almost as if it was a leash. "Wait, what are you doing?" I asked a little bit frightened.

     "I said I don't trust you, didn't I?" He said as he handed my rope to Anthony. He still had my hatchet in his belt so there was definitely no escaping this. "Let's go."