Day one...

I'm back.  The zombie horde made it quite difficult, but I managed to hook up my portable solar panel and find and abandoned building with enough supplies stocked to keep me safe for a bit.  Well, until the horde smells me again, anyway.
   You learn quickly in the apocalypse that there really isn't any where that you can claim to be 'safe', unless it's in the ground with a bullet in your brain pan.  But with the life I lived?  Nah.  I'm not taking that chance.  With my luck God will hold me accountable for all the zombies I have been taking out in my travels just to draw another breath.  For all I know, I'm condemned to an eternity of those I've shot giving my proctology exams with pitchforks for eternity.  Yeah.  I'll pass and take my chances among the few remaining living.
   We used to measure life by calenders and growth of our children, seasons, all sorts of things.  Now we go by sunsets and stopwatches.
   One moment you're leaning against a wall eating a stale, long out of date granola bar that tastes like old cardboard, then suddenly the creepers come around the corner, having smelled you or heard you crunching on the granola, (whoever decided granola was a food group should be sterilized by a blender, but I digress), and you're suddenly running.
   You learn early on, if you lived past the initial outbreak, that the zombies travel in packs.  Not two or three zombies at a time, either.  The smallest groups I've seen yet are dozens, and those are the little ones.  They're usually followed by the rest, which are hundreds of zombies strong.  They're the new tide.  Relentless, always moving, and pretty much unstoppable.
   You'll learn a lot of important lessons if you made it this far.  First one?  The zombies aren't the worst thing out there.  It's your fellow man.
   They'll shoot you for a flashlight.  Hell, they'll kill you just to get a pair of shoe strings, or for no reason other than that you draw a pulse.
   We are still our own worse enemy, it seems.  Famine, pestilence, death...whatever we've faced, it always comes back down to the same thing.  No matter our foe, we'll always find a way to fuck each other over in the long run.
   Bunch of stupid hairless apes.
   Anyway, thank you NASA for a shit ton of satellites in the sky.  Those bad boys allow those of us who have portable solar units and hand cranks to stay in some semblance of communication.
   We still use Google to blog from, as we have had to streamline our locations.  Once we found a website that was still up and running, we had to hasten to it.
   I'll be back to blog more.  Right now I need rest.  It's been days since I had a break from the heat and the horde, as well as people chasing me from here to hell and back again for my shit.
   I don't' want to admit how many  people I've left lying dead who used to have a pulse.
   There's a journal out there now.  It's just starting, but the word on the street is, it will possess a lot of useful information as time goes on.  Save yourselves my friends.  Be prepared.  I'll come back and provide more information as time goes on to help you survive as well.  See you tomorrow...God willing.

https://www.createspace.com4903872

If you're one of the lucky bastards that has a digital reader you can go here:

http://www.amazon.com/HEL-Godsmacked-Book-ebook/dp/B00LXS3NUW

Journal entry One:

   They're coming.  And soon, too.  That rustling noise you hear?  The sound in the background of rustling leaves that you think is merely the breeze?  It's not.
   It's the horde.  Shambling through the bushes, drawn to the sound of your TV blaring The Voice or American Idol or, in some karmic comedy...The Walking Dead.
 
   You may not smell them, or sense them, but they can smell and sense you.  The odor of delicious fresh human, the soft, warm comfort your body generates, it's a perfume to the former living, those that want to just take a nibble of your tasty bits.
 
   Sure, you can probably outrun them for a while. But not indefinitely.  We're soft and gooey with a chewy, crunchy center, and a beating heart and limits on endurance.  They aren't.  They walk on, never faltering, never stopping, until they catch you when you finally pass out from exhaustion.
 
   And they have patience, too.  Sure, you can climb a tree, or hide on a roof, because doors may as well be walls to them, but they are dedicated.  They will stay at that door, or under that roof or tree, for as long as they can still tell you are on the top of it.

   Because they know, we think, that eventually, your weak human form will require nourishment, escape, a chance to find others of your own ilk, and they don't have wandering thoughts.

   Run little doggie.  Run as fast as you can.  There are over 6 billion of them.  And each and every one has the exact same goal.  To turn you into one of them.

   Nothing else matters.   Nothing else will deter them.  And they are durable and tough.

   Rain, slow, sleet or tornado, they don't care.  They are constant, persistent, and willing to brave the elements.   If only our mailmen were like them...

   Sure, you can split their skulls and stop that one.  And the next, and a dozen others after that if you are lucky.   But how many times can you swing your weapon?  How many rounds of ammunition have you scrounged up to assist you in your zombie slaying journey?

   Not enough, I can tell you that.  You will never have enough, because every time you squeeze that trigger, you're ringing the dinner bell.  You're attracting them to you, letting them know that there's a two legged Twinkie wandering around the area, and first come first serve.

   Yeah...you're going to fail.

   And that is what you will learn as you begin a journey, a journey that starts shortly, a journey that will encompass years of your life, sleepless days, nights filled with the relentless hammering of their fists and hands on the doors that separate them from you, until we reach the conclusion.

   H.E.L. volume one is coming soon.   We're on the countdown to the outbreak.  Do you have what it takes to begin this journey?  To meet those who cannot escape, those who were damned to survive the outbreak and begin trying to forge a new world filled with danger and threats, a war against the fearless and never ending?

   Then sit down and relax.  I'll be providing more information as time goes on.  Because when the power goes out, what are we going to do?