I should be relaxing in Montana right about now. All I had to do was get on that plane and I would be safe.
Now, I’m going to become one of those things that I spent most of the day fighting off. One of those ghouls got hold of my leg and sunk her teeth in. The adrenaline of the fight helped to cover the pain at first, but as the minutes tick away, the pain increases. The others have gone back to the airport for safety. They’ve got a huge fight ahead of them.
I’ve made my way to the roof of tractor trailer just south of the Mattydale exit. Looking around, it doesn’t seem like we even made a dent in their numbers today.
The screams have quieted down. Most have fled, or turned. Now the only sounds that can be heard are the crackling of the fires and those dull moans.
I look down at the gash in my leg, and then at the handgun in my left hand. I could end it all right now with one shot, or I could wait for the disease to overtake me. The writing’s on the wall, life as I knew it was ending tonight.
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