17th of January, 201418th of JanuaryI was sleeping in an old warehouse in Vulcan's Forge's outskirts when the Zed ambushed me. I got out of there alive, but lost all of my supplies (saved for my trusty cowboy hat). Moreover, it seems like the whole eastern half of the city is infested with Zed. I'll have to go around it, at least two days' walking. I hope I'll find some food on the way.
20th of JanuaryI fear it it the end. I've not eaten for three days now and Vulcan's Forge seems to be overrun by Zombies. Today I tried to enter the city by the Southwestern Highway, but had to turn back once more when a dozens Zeds started chasing me. I feel weaker and weaker. Tomorrow morning, I'll try Septentrion Boulevard. If that one is also overrun, or if I don't find some food, I'll spend my last energies digging an hole somewhere. At least the Zeds won't get my Cowboy hat.
21st of JanuaryI cannot find the word to express what I felt when I saw the face of the sentinel. It would have been the single best minute of my life, but for the fact that they then showed me to their larder, when I stuffed myself sicks of chips, sweets and McDonalds burgers (not even two years of Zombies Apocalypse could damage them.)
Fed and watered once more, I turned to look at the camp. It wasn't much: four city block with a bit of barbed wire around. A field that probably used to be a park and seemed to grow more weeds than potatoes. An apartment block and some houses were they lived, and a police station that still had a functional cruiser and served as security headquarter.
The men themselves were almost as grim and useless than their camp. Four city boys and girls, with almost no skills to speak of. Snowflake and Robin Mishkin pretended to be soldiers, but they didn't have a single weapon between them and it was clear they never killed anyone outside of Rome: Total War. Jesus Peixeiro da Costa, a Portugese waiter (everyone call him "Rhesus Monkeyhead", because of the way he pronounce his name and hid abundant pilosity) pretend to be a scavenger, but I saw him serching for 10 minutes the knife he was holding in his hand.
Deon, who refuse to tell me his last name, is apparently responsible for building and maintaining the barricades. I doubt he could build an Ikea cupboard if his life depended on it.
My gut feelings is to steal their reserves and run as far away as I can. Those guys have "disaster" written on their foreheads in lage red blinking letter. But I'm sick of running. They seems impressed enough by my Cowboy Hat to accept me as their leader. I'll command them and attempt the impossible: reclaim that city. Who knows: in one hundred years, when humans can finally roam the earth again, maybe they'll sing ballads about the gallant defensors of Vulcan's Forge. Or more probably we will be forever forgotten, bu you gotta try, right?
22nd of JanuaryReading the entry for yesterday, I must admit I was needlessly gloomy. Deon, Robin and Rhesus managed to find twelves rations' worth of potatoes and beetroots in a field nearby. Locked in a shed was a small mutt they nicknamed Buddy. I was glad at the extra rations, but apparently they want to keep it to help in the scavenging operations ((It gives +0.5 to Fighting and +0.5 to Scavenging). I'll let them decide who's to keep it.
Ain't he cute? In the meantime, me and Snowflake explored a church nearby and found two more survivors. Merchant Yuuko was apparently a traveling merchant until Zeb ambushed her and killed her oxen. Since then, she's been hiding with her son, Flarehawk ever since. I welcome the extra hands, but I'm starting to worry about the food situation. Even with Rhesus's found, we have less than one week's worth of rations. I should speak with Deon about claiming that field for our use, or maybe that mall to the south, which is apparently still full of food.