He’d walked for days, heading south, trying to stay ahead of the weather. Becoming an expert at ducking zombies was easy, I guess those video games weren’t such a waste of time, he let a small laugh escape. Checking the building with his favorite tool – a mirror tied with twine to a yard stick he’d stole from an empty Catholic school he’d passed on the way, he decided it was safe and entered. He needed a place to rest for a few hours before night, when vigilance would keep him alive.

A noise – “Whatthe_fuck_!?” he jumped as a dirty child on a tricycle emerged from darkness; behind the child a man, “You scared the shit out of me, dude,”

The child inched forward, circling him with a creaky serenade. “He’s okay,” an odd, ghostly voice.

“You can stay… in the basement. Yours is bed three,”

I gotta start writing this shit down, he thought to himself. He found his bed, dug a notebook and pen he’d found and opened to the first blank page. He started writing in the top corner, “2012 — December 19?”