I'm one of only three who made it out alive. The others...we couldn't get them to leave, even when the undead finally broke through the barricades. They all retreated downstairs, into the basement, and locked the doors behind them. There's no way out down there...
I don't want to think about that anymore.
I managed to retrieve my old bow and arrow set from the garage before I took off. I'm a bit rusty, but I've managed to shoot down fifteen of those fuckers so far.
Right now I'm typing this as I fill up my tank at one of the small, out of the way gas stations that clutter the back woods of Oklahoma.
I'm nearly at the compound. I managed to charge my phone with the car charger, and when I put in a call to the compound, I was relieved to hear that everyone was fine and safe and listening to National Public Radio's skeleton (heh) crew giving out the latest news.
And now I travel down a rain-soaked, little known highway, on a night that feels like it will never end. It feels like I'm driving to the end of the world. Hopefully the life that lies before me is still long, even if that life is spent standing on the rough, chipped, pebble-strewn cliffs that stare into the chasm of humanity's extinction.