Quick, hand me a baseball bat… 
For a long time I didn’t think we’d make it, I thought there would never be another blog entry. The zombies nearly had us so many times, now I only shrug when facing certain doom at the mangled mits of the undead scourge sweeping the bible belt. Ironic, to think it’s hear in the heart of bible-thumper territory that such an unholy scourge should take seed.
No one expected the end of civilization to come at the mouldering hands of our town’s dearly departed, and thinking back, it might’ve been a good idea to burn our dead. If only we’d had an idea that all those schlocky movies had a grain of truth to them, maybe we could have sealed the public graveyards… I can only imagine that every town’s graves have become beachheads for hell’s musty minions, swarming up from their cold boxes to moan and howl and stalk and hunger.
But it’s far, far too late to second guess such things now.
Our group of survivors have holed up in the downtown area. At first the pedways connecting the central buildings to each other were an obvious asset, but when the barricade in the civic center went down under the flailing limbs of decayed oppression, they only served to funnel the shambling things to our hiding holes.
So here I am, trapped on the 12th floor, mindless zombies teaming in the hundreds a few floors down. We’ve welded shut the stair access, and cut the cables to all but the service elevator. Zane is planning to lead a team in search of food, and of course C² is still on the roof shooting Zombies for kicks. Of all the survivors, she seems to be dealing with the zombie plague best, and her kill count is way higher than mine… I’m going to go with Z on the search team, maybe we’ll find something worth writing about. It’s starting to get hungry up here.
The world may have gone to shit, but at least we’ve still got internet porn.