Footsteps in the graveyard don't scare me. It is the sound of the hysterical laughter that freezes my blood...

Dear Diary, it’s Patricia again, typing with bloodied fingers. My heart is pounding ruthlessly in my chest…after what transpired today, I am bound to have nightmares. And if I am ever lucky, maybe I will die in my sleep.

The morning had been so peaceful…so crisp and tranquil. It wasn’t until pa had come back, all bloodied. He had taken quite a beating. I was afraid that he would have a broken rib or two. Luckily, he is fine. Just a bit of flesh wound, and thank whoever is listening, he had no bite marks. 

He still refuses to tell me what transpired. But a few words did come out of his mouth, as he mentioned visiting the graves of the old Rick. Such a strange man he was, always broaching about his tough military time. It didn’t save him from the virus, and it most certainly didn’t save him from meeting a grim fate. Glad that pa put him down…

When pa visited his grave today, he witnessed something alarming and outright heartrending. It also speaks volumes about our survival-based morality. Most of the graves had been robbed. Only last week, I buried my converted friends. Now, none of them were in the graves. Even the graves of little Lucy and Ma were robbed. I am glad their corpse decomposed before those bastards could take away anything. Still, the thought infuriates me. 

Pa…despite all the common sense he asks me to have, tracked the footsteps and found himself chasing two grave robbers silently in the thick of the graveyard. It is already near the woods. All sorts of things come out when the sky assumes the dusky garb. And that is where pa, may God bless him with common sense, engaged those two armed grave robbers. According to pa, they were completely unarmed. Yet dressing his wounds made me realize a bullet had grazed his left arm. There was also a nasty cut mark on his right cheek, which was thankfully a cut mark only. Then, there was nothing else but bruises and small hits.

I am thankful that is the only thing that happened after a cut wound that could have transformed into a stab. I don’t even want to type it…but if they were robbing the fresh graves and the old ones for meat, what if they could have…taken my pa…could they be cannibals…?

No…I am not going to write it. No!

Pa is definitely strong but an idiot. He never goes anywhere without his spiked gloves. According to his cheery statements, I learned that he ripped off one of their ears. Those two apparently lifted weights since they were bigger and maybe stronger. But my pa had been in the military once. He dodged their kicks and landed a few on them before taking back Old Rick’s skull. Yup…that’s what he calls a successful encounter. He didn’t let them get away with a skull! Not that they got away with anything afterward…

Regardless of how brave he was, he is now admitting that he might have gone too far. One of them had a gun, as rare as they are now, and he pointed it at my pa’s chest. I am getting goosebumps just while writing this! The laptop’s screen is hurting my eyes, but I am not going away until this diary has learned what happened.

That is when several voices echoed in the air. There was a collection of several laughing echoes that made the air shake. Laughing concealed in shrieking pain. Then the first one came out from the close Western side, where a thin concrete wall is all that separates the graveyard from the woods. Pa describes him as a grown man, half of his face completely gone. The other half was lifelike, and that is what scares me the most. That thing…man…came out all barefoot, his left leg showing some bones. He howled with laughter right before bumping into a tombstone and hitting his head there. Stay with me, whoever is reading this…! 

That old man….thing….creature…sick person just collided his head with the tombstone so hard that it cracked open his skull. He then proceeded to lick whatever fluid had come out of his dense black brain matter…it wasn’t a normal human anymore. That much is certain. Good thing I heard that they go brain-dead. Otherwise, it would have hurt like crazy. 

Those two grave robbers were idiots, thankfully bigger than my pa. One of them shot at his heart, and the creature died. Then, several hundred of them came out. An entire fucking horde! The robbers tried to get away, but they were overwhelmed. The worst part is that…the hordes don't kill you. They always leave one alive… one of the robbers was devoured, and the other one was bitten and left to spread the disease. It is just their behavior. 

They just bite you and rip off some of your flesh. According to a diary of a converted fellow, I learned that the survivors that have been bitten have the uncontrollable urge to laugh and bite others…meanwhile, they realize that their only thing alive is their heart now…

Hopefully, the infected one will infect his grave-robbing camp, and all will be converted. Hordes we can handle from a distance. Humans…are nastier. 

I am still trying to analyze how they behave. When in a horde, these sick people don’t behave like the mindless freaks they usually are. It is like…something else controls them…or someone else. I will not write any more nightmarish stuff because I have got to sleep now.

Suffice it to say Pa is back. He is all patched up and sleeping like a baby while also snoring so loudly that I fear he will bring down a horde on us. Good thing I locked his room completely. It is soundproof…kind of.

Caring for him made me realize today that seeing your loved ones in such a state can leave a mark on you. And that’s why I want to save him from the misery of seeing my sealed fate. 

I also cleaned my wound and dressed it again. There was an old lady who had been bitten across the street. She kept dressing her wound, and she also kept on eating these antibiotics that I am eating like crazy. She had convulsions, and her lower body completely lost the sense of pain. I remember her leg was cut with a saw when pus was coming out of it, and she was sewing herself a sweater. Her brain resisted the virus completely due to the antibiotics and dressing of the wound. Hopefully, that is what happens to me too… Too bad that she didn’t make it. She was shot by one of those bastard military men for being infected. Then, they took her corpse to study her brain. 

Anyways, that is all for today. I am going to take a shower and once more dress my wound. Mother, please watch over us. I miss you and Lucy a lot! Times like these, I get so lonely! You have to help me get through this.