We arrived in Arklay two days ago— tired, hungry, and somewhat lucky. We found a huge old house out in the middle of nowhere and decided to hunker down there for a while. Some of the furniture is still in good condition, but the bathroom smells like someone crapped an entire Pizza Hut/Taco Bell into the shitter and never bothered flushing. I figure they didn’t have time to flush. Maybe they died shitting like Elvis. We cleaned the place up the best we could with some dry towels, beat out the dust, and I’m hoping the yard soil is good enough to grow a few things. It just takes one tater to make a litter of tater babies. Until then, we’ll have to scavenge for food.

On the third floor of the house is a doctor’s office. It’s not the kind you’d find in a health clinic, but a home office with books and a couple instruments. Unfortunately, there are no medicines or things we could actually use. Braddy reckons a doctor used to live in the house, and though we don’t agree on much, I think he’s right. He’s pretty smart, and if it weren’t for him, I’d probably dead. Or undead. He found me a few weeks ago trying to take on two of those rabid fuckers. We’ve been travelling together ever since.

Since our arrival, I took on a job at the local pub. It’s kind of slow, but at least it feels safe. Being surrounded by booze reminds me of home. And ain’t nothing slower that sitting in the woods watching the breeze blow by hoping it didn’t bring any infected with it. Braddy got a job too, which means he’s going to stick around. And I’m glad. Numbers survive. populations that work together survive. If crocodiles could outlive the dinosaurs, we can outlive this.

P