Blog here, all ye who have abandoned hope.

Yesterday I saw a little girl torn apart and eaten alive over the span of an hour.

I suppose that is it for me. The end of my sanity, the end of my rope. The end of any last remaining shred of hope that something could come out of all of this.

I don't know what I was hoping for. There is nothing left. Am I supposed to hope that the non-existant defence force will come sweeping in and get rid of the bad zombies so Walmart can reopen?

There never was a happy ever after waiting in the wings for any of us.

From the first superflu cough we were doomed.

All just waiting for an unglamourous, undignified, insignificant death.

This little girl couldn't have been more than 7 years old. She would've been just a baby when all this started.

I have no idea how she could have survived this long. Or where whoever took care of her must have been.

From her torn dress to her muddy shoes, to the fierce and wary pale green eyes.... she was the poster girl for the Zombie Apocalypse.

She should've had a doll grasped in her palms, not a tiny rusted axe.

She gripped it so hard, trying to muster the strength to hack away little pieces of her attackers.

I think that is what struck me the most. Her unblinking, unafraid determination. Right until the end.

She reminded me of my little Emmy. Back before all this. My stubborn sister used to have the same devious, unflinching determination.

That is what I hold on to when I try to think about where she might be. Or if she is even still alive.

I often wish I had been killed in the initial onslaught. 

That when my lovely elderly neighbour started coming at me like I was a breakfast smorgasboard she had succeeded in taking a hefty portion out of me. I wouldn't have wanted to be like them. To be one of them. But back in those first days we were doing an alright job at taking down the Zombies. 

Back when we had an airforce. And the navy. And electricity. I reckon they would've napalmed into oblivion.

Or hell.

Some days I am sure that I did die back then, and that this is hell. Because I don't care what ring of Dante's Inferno you look at, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could be as bad as what I see everyday around me. I am so lucky Karen was living only 2kms away from me when this went down. Running distance. Well, when you have a pissed off granny zombie trailing after you - anything is running distance. But without her I would have given up long ago.

I always lived by the "trust no one" philosphy, like the hard ass I am. But without her to fight with me back-to-back, I'd have been zombie chow years ago. She makes me run longer and fight back. She keeps me human in all this mess.

But I can't give up searching for Emma. We planned all this out, back when we were kids. When we watched apocalypse movies, and took notes and jokes about our "end of the world outfits".

Back then it was fun and games to think about what weapons to use and where to scrounge up some food. I have an idea of where she would go, or what she would do. And I am slowly making my way through all the old familiar places. And everywhere in between.

I will find her. I can't not find her. This is OUR fucking apocalypse.