Hi, it's Patricia. 

The morning is crisp, and despite the sunlight peering through the blue sky, I can feel a nip in the air. The cold has arrived…finally. I have long awaited this moment, and I have let myself dream a bit too. Maybe this time, things might be different. Maybe this winter, I shall see my family. If I am lucky, I will see them painlessly. Whatever happens, I am just happy that I will see my mother and little sister soon. Then we will all pray for our pa to find a new family. 

Pa’s gone to pick up some supplies. Maybe tomorrow morning, we will be able to finally go away from this mess of a city…or what it used to be. 

At first, when that started, the dead didn’t stay breathless, and the talk of a virus became the new staple around the mugs. We all thanked the Lord for placing us here. The city was quite thriving and safe. Nobody knew that the virus that started in Italy would soon take over the world. The endemic would soon be converted into a pandemic. We still thank the Lord…or luck as we call it. Lord is no longer there… it is just us now and the hordes. 

I would skip a few years. Otherwise, chaos would fill these pages. Luckily, the power grids are still uninterrupted in some areas. There aren’t any ghoul nests or hordes of those slimy bastards roaming around. There are thirty hordes in this city. And it kind of gives us the edge. No new hordes will come, and the ones who are still here will not let anyone else enter, including new survivors or the roaming dead. I and pa have been surviving. We used to be four, but the two got bitten by infectious rats. That’s how much dangerous the virus is now…I pray it doesn’t get airborne. Not that I care for myself now, but I do care for my pa. I wish he regains a new family. Lord, if you are there, please hear me. 

Sometimes I wonder if we are the only ones alive. There are a few conflicts that I face within myself. Especially when I question my morality. No new humans mean no shortage of resources. The two of us know every nook and corner of this city, and the hordes are loud as fuck. Those brain-dead sick ones laugh hysterically, and their laughter can be heard from a mile. So…I guess we are safe. Or were you safe…

Pa…the bravest and dearest man in my entire life…I am writing this one for you. 

I have been bitten. When Jon was going to be put down, he shrieked while blood oozed out of his mouth. He then proceeded to bite me… I pressed the trigger too late. He was my friend, after all. He kept laughing, begging me to pull the trigger before…and he bit me…

Pa, there are instances when I find myself crying while laughing. I have been suppressing this urge. It burns, and my brain starts feeling numb whenever the sick and twisted episode takes over. I underwent convulsions in the bathroom yesterday. And I felt drawn to one of the hordes. My throat felt like it had thorns, and my nose bled profusely. I felt my ears responding to the clicking and laughing sounds of those converted as they passed by our house. 

Before anything defiles my life, I will kill myself, pa. Maybe that will be my fifth entry. As for whoever is reading this, if you aren’t my pa, please pray for him… after you find these diary pages in the folder “My daily diary”, just leave a note on this laptop from your side too… Oh, look, pa is back. I better hide my wound and dress it properly.