I have now established a livable environment at the cottage. Thankfully the well still works out here, I have a fresh water supply, there is enough canned food to last me several months if I eat sparingly. Zombie wise the lake appears to be resident free, however I am going to stay close to the cottage, I have boarded the windows and investigated the cottage, it's abandoned, I have found a shotgun used by my father when he would hunt. I've never fired it before, however, I will keep it loaded just to be safe. There is a solar powered radio in the den as well, it appears to be able to receive several short wave frequencies.
The news has gotten worse, there are signs of infected worldwide now. Many third world countries are considered safe havens due to the simple fact they are isolated, well armed and used to surviving in the worst conditions. The United Nations are in shambles, each country declining the needs of others to keep themselves alive. While other countries fling accusations back and forth, yet nobody knows where this infection came from.
There is some good news for the city at least. I have heard several transmissions of a survivor group in the city. They're a way to keep the isolation at bay. As much as I would feel safer in the city with a group, I know I need to keep writing. So someone may find this and know what happened, know who I am, or was.
I have decided, that I will continue to write my story, from now until I am unable to continue. So that you may know the truth of what really happened. Why civilization stopped, and that if we managed to rebuild, that maybe we can learn from our mistakes.
The survivors, they called themselves the Militia, appeared to have two more prominent members, the first one everyone referred to as Malk. Possibly short for something, the other everyone just referred to as the Oompa Loompa, which usually ended up getting a large amount of profanity streaming through the radio. She appeared to not favor that name, but Malk refers to her by it anyways. I find the transmissions a welcome reprieve from my own panicked state.
"Oi, Malkey we got rumors of yer elephant man out by the butcher's shoppe! He's being a royal pain, makin' it harder fer the retrievals to get anythin'. Think e can scare him off fer us?" This man, I guess a retriever is referring to the massive zombie that attacked me on my way out. The radio crackled for a moment before Malk replied.
"Yea, I'll grab some munitions and see what I can do 'bout it. That bastard took four concussions and a frag before running off, I don't know if I hurt him or not. Gonna see about a few molatov cocktails with some of Oompa's everclear. If it doesn't kill him, it's gonna leave him limpin," he cackled over the radio before another voice replied.
"I swear I'll hang your fuzzy ass out to dry if you touch my booze!!" a woman's voice shouted into the line.
This is all I'm going to write for now. It's late, I hope to find you readers next time.