July 5th

I'm on security, sorry to take so long, but writing this has taken longer than thought.

I don't get to call home, pass go, collect 200 bucks, or anything. I just get to pull the next shift on security. I don't get to let Selma know what I'm up to, or anything.

Instead, I get to grab my blue smock, of choice, and join the ranks of all the other blue smocks.

At first, I have to be honest, I'm not too upset by all this. First, I thin that John, our fearless leader is a hot jock type that holds a big... personality and I'm all eager to please. Second, I'm happy to be having food in my belly, meat and cheese, at that.

I'm working with some guy, named Brad. He's, egotistical and whatever, but passable for normal, which, honestly, is all we want, at this stage.

Brad is holding the door and I'm holding the hallway, holding is code for securing, at this stage, by the way. At our point in survival, terminology is all the rage.

We're making our patrols and I'm not even sure how so much time has passed since my departure. One minute I'm running across the parking lot with only Calvin Klien as my protector, while the second I'm defending our food source from infection, with some guy named Brad as my dissenter.

Now, let me say, Brad seemed like a nice guy. I said seemed as thought he's been eaten by a million Zombies and we might never know of his existence if I hand`t blogged about it.

All I have to say is that one second he`s standing beside me and the second he`s running for the vacant zombie lot, like he missed some important flight, or something.

He pushed through the emergency exit and out into the dark, so quickly, that I wasn`t even sure what might have happened. I heard him scream, oddly enough, for a helicopter, and then he was yelling my name.

I ran out, into the night, and saw that Trixy, was cradling him, in her lap, holding him, as she ate his traps.

At first, I was disgusted. Then, remembering her eating her lunch, at work, I thought, this is no different. Like an empty McDonalds bag, she was eating his soul. It had been used and now it was spent.

`We had a helicopter.` He yelled, through the pain. `A helicopter.`

It would take a few days to figure that little bit of info out. Until then, however, after Trix had eaten all she could eat, I walked out and gathered his remains, a piece of lip, a comb, some hair, random bones, and I brought him back to the store, in a bag, I held him like I cared, respectfully, as respectfully as you can when their contained within a plastic bag, and it wasn`t until, after Bryndis escaped from the Bay, that I realized what a douche Brad was...and, quickly, jettisoned, him away. I turned the compacter on and heard it breaking down those small fragments of bone into dust.

In retrospect, we all appear like douches but have to prove ourselves otherwise. In the case of a zombie-apocalypse what`s the difference, truly.