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?