there’s nothing to hide. Or almost nothing. Gangs of thieves are now a minor concern compared to the main problem of those who are infected and extremely violent.
There’s no agreement on those things’ real physical state. Some say they’re healthy, just deranged. Others say they’re at death’s door. More and more people claim they’re dead, incredible as that may seem. I haven’t seen any, but I guess that’ll change in the coming hours. For now, I’ll stay right where I am and take things as they come. I’ve gotten calmer since I realized that’s the closest thing I have to a game plan.
The Internet is also coming apart at the seams. Hours ago Google and Yahoo stopped working. The servers must be down. The same goes for a lot of other websites. Of the over a hundred contacts I have, only two dozen are still active, almost all in Spain, where there’s still electricity. Given what happened in northern Europe, the Internet won’t last long here either.
Military radio frequencies crackle constantly, reporting more clashes with “those bastards.” It sounds like there are lots of casualties. The fifty-two original forces have been consolidated into forty. The attacks are concentrated around the Safe Havens. Two Safe Havens, one in Toledo and one in Alicante, were attacked by hordes of infected people and have fallen. Tens of thousands of people died. Will thousands more die in the coming hours? You can bet your sweet ass I won’t be one of them.
ENTRY 30
January 24, 3:03 a.m.
----
Sweat trickles down my back as I sit here, writing this. My hands are still shaking from the adrenaline rush. I’m scared out of my mind.
By midday, I realized I had to do something or I’d have a heart attack. I’d been cooped up for almost twenty-four hours, pacing like a caged animal. I had to do something. I had to get out of here. I had to take a look around. I had to know what was going on. Lucullus has been staring at me, wide-eyed, all day. He knows something’s up. I don’t know if his cat brain can grasp the enormity of the situation. The world’s going to hell by the minute—if it isn’t there already. Eventually it’s going to grab up everyone in its path. It’s not joking around.
I went up to my bedroom and put on heavy, thick-soled hiking boots. Winter nights in Galicia are wet and cold, so I bundledup. It was late; the curfew had been in force for hours. I didn’t give a damn. I was going out. It wasn’t like I was going to run into a cop around the corner. Forty minutes before, I’d heard several vehicles on the main road. From the upstairs window I saw a collection of police cars, army trucks, and armored vehicles pass by, filled with exhausted, frightened soldiers headed to the Safe Haven downtown.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that those soldiers were the last line of defense against the infected people. They’d held their position until all civilians were evacuated. Now they were retreating. That means there’s nothing between the Safe Haven and those things. They must be hot on their heels. I had to hurry.
I moved aside the posts bracing the door and cautiously stuck my head out. The street was deserted, the way it’s been for the last several hours. Newspapers, plastic bags, and trash went flying down the pavement. In the middle of the street lay a beige sweater. One of my neighbors must have lost it in her hasty evacuation. Seeing that sweater brought it all home. They’re gone for good. All of them.
I climbed into my car, which I’d parked right outside the door. As I sat behind the wheel, I remembered I hadn’t changed the oil. The can of oil had been sitting in the trunk ever since I bought it. Shit. This was not the time to be a DIY mechanic, so I turned the key, hoping my car wouldn’t leave me high and dry.
In the dead silence the motor sounded like a cannon. You could probably hear it for miles. I didn’t care. No way was I going to walk. I drove to the main
There’s no agreement on those things’ real physical state. Some say they’re healthy, just deranged. Others say they’re at death’s door. More and more people claim they’re dead, incredible as that may seem. I haven’t seen any, but I guess that’ll change in the coming hours. For now, I’ll stay right where I am and take things as they come. I’ve gotten calmer since I realized that’s the closest thing I have to a game plan.
The Internet is also coming apart at the seams. Hours ago Google and Yahoo stopped working. The servers must be down. The same goes for a lot of other websites. Of the over a hundred contacts I have, only two dozen are still active, almost all in Spain, where there’s still electricity. Given what happened in northern Europe, the Internet won’t last long here either.
Military radio frequencies crackle constantly, reporting more clashes with “those bastards.” It sounds like there are lots of casualties. The fifty-two original forces have been consolidated into forty. The attacks are concentrated around the Safe Havens. Two Safe Havens, one in Toledo and one in Alicante, were attacked by hordes of infected people and have fallen. Tens of thousands of people died. Will thousands more die in the coming hours? You can bet your sweet ass I won’t be one of them.
ENTRY 30
January 24, 3:03 a.m.
----
Sweat trickles down my back as I sit here, writing this. My hands are still shaking from the adrenaline rush. I’m scared out of my mind.
By midday, I realized I had to do something or I’d have a heart attack. I’d been cooped up for almost twenty-four hours, pacing like a caged animal. I had to do something. I had to get out of here. I had to take a look around. I had to know what was going on. Lucullus has been staring at me, wide-eyed, all day. He knows something’s up. I don’t know if his cat brain can grasp the enormity of the situation. The world’s going to hell by the minute—if it isn’t there already. Eventually it’s going to grab up everyone in its path. It’s not joking around.
I went up to my bedroom and put on heavy, thick-soled hiking boots. Winter nights in Galicia are wet and cold, so I bundledup. It was late; the curfew had been in force for hours. I didn’t give a damn. I was going out. It wasn’t like I was going to run into a cop around the corner. Forty minutes before, I’d heard several vehicles on the main road. From the upstairs window I saw a collection of police cars, army trucks, and armored vehicles pass by, filled with exhausted, frightened soldiers headed to the Safe Haven downtown.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that those soldiers were the last line of defense against the infected people. They’d held their position until all civilians were evacuated. Now they were retreating. That means there’s nothing between the Safe Haven and those things. They must be hot on their heels. I had to hurry.
I moved aside the posts bracing the door and cautiously stuck my head out. The street was deserted, the way it’s been for the last several hours. Newspapers, plastic bags, and trash went flying down the pavement. In the middle of the street lay a beige sweater. One of my neighbors must have lost it in her hasty evacuation. Seeing that sweater brought it all home. They’re gone for good. All of them.
I climbed into my car, which I’d parked right outside the door. As I sat behind the wheel, I remembered I hadn’t changed the oil. The can of oil had been sitting in the trunk ever since I bought it. Shit. This was not the time to be a DIY mechanic, so I turned the key, hoping my car wouldn’t leave me high and dry.
In the dead silence the motor sounded like a cannon. You could probably hear it for miles. I didn’t care. No way was I going to walk. I drove to the main
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