Not many places left to keep ducking. The more people are killed in the streets, the more Risen there are, stumbling around like fucking retards. Things may have been different to this point if it wasn’t for those dead bastards.

Let me explain a little. The Risen, if you haven’t guessed by now, are the dead, returned from the grave, or the street, or the gutter, or from whatever hole they bought it in. See, there’s a kind of haze that covers the Zones. During the day, it makes everything look like you’ve got permanent Blue Blocker contact lenses in. It’s the haze that fucks with people’s minds. Makes them worse than they might have been otherwise. Case in point: I had a neighbor that lived upstairs from me; Sarah Bowers was her name. Nice enough girl. Good looker, but she used to watch those fucked up preacher shows every day (paid extra to get the preacher channel). She always wanted to stop and talk about the Bible, and how the virtuous were going to "smite the wicked". Used to drive me up a fucking wall. Couple of weeks after everything went to shit, I saw her out on the street, bare-ass naked, bent over on a car hood, taking on five guys at once. Seriously. One dick in each opening, and another in each hand. That’s the kind of shit that the haze has done to people. It’s like, all pleasure, no responsibility or restraint. For those open enough to it, it kills any and all inhibitions, leaving them free to completely cough their souls up for Big Daddy Lucifer. Not quite sure why, but for some reason it doesn’t affect everyone. Never touched me or Jaime, and I’ve seen a lot of people who are as normal as they were before the hammer came down. Most of them try to go about their daily lives, trying to ignore all the shit going on around them. I’ve heard others have actually formed into resistance cells. Like this is some kind of normal fucking war. They just don’t get it. Then there’s ones like me, who just want to be left the fuck alone. See, I know something those self-righteous idealistic morons don’t. There ain’t no heroes left, at least not on this side of the line.

Damn, got side-tracked. Back to the haze, and the Risen. Now, I don’t claim to know all the ins and outs about the process, or the exact nature of the haze. All I do know is that it, and the dead, both appeared at the same time. In the Zones, there’s certain ways that you do not want to die. And I don’t mean just because they hurt like hell. If you’re one of the unlucky ones, you get to come back as one of the Risen. If your soul is black and corrupted enough, you stay in your body when it rises again. If not, your body is used as a vessel for any one of a bazillion of Hell’s nastiest of nasties. The Risen are used as Hell’s police force, and are given pretty much carte blanc to do what they want. Doesn’t much matter how good, bad, or ugly you may be, you want to steer well clear of the Risen. Unfortunately, these days, they’re not exactly rare anymore. More and more of them showing up in the streets everyday, merrily raping and pillaging whatever they damn well please.

Then, there’re the ghouls that follow the Risen around like fucking groupies. Ghouls are humans so debased that they get their jollies from the walking dead. The Risen are more than accommodating. After all, most of them haven’t gotten laid in a few hundred years or more. Like I said before, it was a group of Risen that killed Jaime. It was about three years ago, and we were trying to sneak out of the Zone. We ran into a group of four of them. We flashed our ID cards, just like good little sheep. They had other plans…

It was the Risen that tipped the scales in the early days of the war. Things were pretty chaotic in those first few months, before the battle lines settled down and the Zones were formed. Angels and Demons were scrapping all over the place, laying waste to all kinds of real estate. The local resistance at the time was made up of military and police that hadn’t been changed by the haze, and they were pretty good at fucking up Lucifer’s boys, human and Beast alike. Then the Risen came. I guess everyone conveniently forgot the part in Revelation about the dead rising from the grave, because they all pissed in their collective pants when it happened. The dead became the Devil’s grunts, and they turned the tables on us pretty fucking quick. It’s hard to stop an invading force when the soldiers can’t be killed. You can blow the sons of bitches up into eighty pieces, and you’ll have eighty pieces crawling after you. The only way to stop them for good is to burn them to ashes. Then, whatever’s inside them goes back to Hell to wait for another body. So many people getting killed everyday, there’s no end to the supply. And the smell – Jesus Christ, it’s like being swamped by rotting lemons.

When the dead started walking, the living started running, and screaming, and dying in new and creative ways. Soldiers who had survived multiple foreign wars had their entire world view hacked to shit when they were confronted with an enemy that a bullet couldn’t kill. Eventually they started using flame-throwers on the fuckers, but by then it was too little, too late. Compounding the problem was that a good chunk of the so-called protectors of the people went over to the other side (humans, don’t you love them?). Thus did half the great and mighty US turn into just another fucking cesspool.

Here endeth the history lesson. I guess the rest of this journal will end up being a day to day type thing. Don’t know how long it will last, or how much time we all have left for that matter. Hell, I’m still not sure why me and Jaime got fucked to begin with. Jaime never hurt a soul in her life, and I may be no angel, but I’m not one of the psycho fucking pervs this place seems to be crawling with now. I guess that whatever darkness was in my soul was just enough to get me picked by the bad guys for the last big game of kick ball.

Nice fucking guidelines. Yea God.

Went out for food today. One or two local restaurants where you can still eat without having to watch some fifty year old slob getting blown by a twelve year old girl while you’re there.

Fairly uneventful trip. Only had to feed a little triple-ought buck to one would-be demonized psycho. This shotgun and I have grown pretty close, over the past few years. I took it off a serial killer that I introduced to my previous weapon. He didn’t look like he needed the gauge anymore, but then I couldn’t hear him too well. Apparently it’s hard to do much more than gurgle when your fucking throat’s been cut down to your spine. Not too bright, that one. One more freak for the Risen.

Spent most of the day people watching. So many of the ones who haven’t been touched much by the haze run around trying to act like nothing’s going on. Either that, or they spend their last hours in penance, hoping to save their souls. They don’t realize the truth until the last minute, when they’re being fucking eaten by a pack of dead people. We’re all damned, here. The lines are drawn, and there ain’t going to be any re-counts. Those of us who are marked were fucked the second those holes opened up four years ago.

Here and there, you can still find a few people who belong on the other side of the lines. Ones who, for one reason or another, either didn’t leave, or couldn’t leave to get where it’s safe. They had the chance in those first few months. Several points along the borders were left open so that they could get through. Of course, from the rumors I heard, most of them that tried were gutted, then crucified on the spot. I’ve heard that they were kept in some kind of limbo – their bodies were shredded, and nailed to a cross, but their souls can’t leave, so they still wiggle around up on those things, screaming and moaning year after year. Of course, I can’t say if this is true for sure. Too far to go just to see a strung up corpse, when I can see that outside pretty much anywhere I go. Strung up corpses, hacked up corpses, sexually violated corpses, walking corpses… they’re pretty much all the same.

Shells are running low. Heard a rumor that a resistance cell is skulking around here somewhere. I don’t give a shit about their damn dumbass ideas, but I may be able to swipe some ammo from them. I’ll pick up again tomorrow.

Turned out to be some kind of fucking recruitment drive. Had a group from the other side of the lines blathering their crap at anyone who stood still too long. Got to have my fucking ear talked off. God this, God that, and Jesus will save us all...usual shit. Yadda, yadda, yadda, give me some fucking ammo, thank you. Waited until they were in the middle of some kind of Hosanna hootenanny, then squeezed out the back with a case of shells under my arm. They can preach their shit all they want. They get to sneak back across the lines when they’re done. The rest of us have to survive long enough to get to go to Hell when this is all over.

Just heard the news today. First chance I’ve had to try and catch a newscast on TV. They're not tied to any one timeslot anymore, so you learn to avoid TV sets unless you’re into guttings, mutilations, and lots and lots of fucking. If you’re lucky, and actually catch the news, you have to have a clear enough head to be able to weed through all the propaganda bullshit that it’s laced with. What I gathered from the report was that Michael’s armies had pulled out of Australia. This is the Archangel I’m talking about. Supreme Commander in Chief of Heaven’s armies. He reports directly to Gabriel, who is second only to Christ, and the G-Man himself, although Christ hasn’t been much of a player in this whole mess so far. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, His-High-and-Mightiness hasn’t even graced us with His presence yet. Guess the good book wasn’t quite written to specs. Oh well. Revelation didn’t mention fucking laser guns either, and we get to watch them streak across the sky at night while the battle platforms duke it out in orbit. Of course, you generally can’t stand still long enough at night to enjoy it, and if you can, you’re probably one of the majorly fucked up pervs that come out when the sun goes down.

Anyway, the loss of Australia is a fairly heavy one to the other side. The island had some fairly good spiritual resources that’ll either be wiped out, or twisted into something useful for the home team. It also means a brand shiny new group of Zones to harvest from. Michael must have really taken it in the ass over this one. He doesn’t like to lose, and he likes to fight dirty. Makes him the only one of those self-righteous winged bastards that I can identify with. Course, this far from the fighting, who really gives a shit. Life and death to them equals just another day in the fucking pits to me.

Don’t know if you’ve noticed by now, but I tend to be a little sarcastic where the other side is concerned. Not a lot of love between me and the heavenly hereafter. Why, you may ask. Because of Jaime. She was the most gentle soul I had ever known. And not only did the Great and Fucking Mighty Holy One condemn her soul to Hell, but He sat on His Holy Regal Ass, and did nothing while she was raped, mutilated, and eaten by those rotting fuckers. I guess all that All-Powerful, All-Knowing, All-Merciful bullshit was just that, bullshit. I’ll say this for the other side; they can sling the media hype as good as Lucifer’s boys, if not better.

You know, sometimes I think about Jaime, and about what my life has turned into without her. Then, I think about eating this shotgun barrel. Usually, I get up, go outside, blow away some fucking weirdos, and feel a lot better.

Think I’ll go for a walk in the park…

After a day and a half bender, I feel much better. Took a walk through Central Park the other night, and just came out this morning. Good part was, the freaks inside had enough ammo that I didn’t have to spend much of my own.

These days, Central Park is ruled by the worst of the crazies. It’s a no-man’s-land that even most demons try to avoid. Only those with a kill-me-in-an-ugly-fucking-way kind of death wish, a set of balls the size of the planet Jupiter, or a general mad-on for anything moving are usually dumb enough to go in. The other night, I fell under all three categories.

I casually walked up to the Central Park West entrance, whistling a light little tune. The usual crop of corpses greeted me, moaning their own choir. This is what gives me reason to believe the rumor about the borders. The Central Park walls are lined with the crucified, the hanged, and the impaled, all still writhing around and making all kinds of noise. About a third of them are fairly freshly dead and dying. The rest are Risen, hoping to rope in the rubes for a quick snack, or a quick fuck. Either way, they all make a lot of noise, but don’t generally jack with anyone going into the park, so in I went just as the sun went down.

I stuck to the woods, (only a moron would stay on the paths. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid), and walked for a while, listening to the shuffling going on in the distance. Didn’t take too long before I saw a fire’s light peeking through the foliage. I did the ninja bit, and snuck up on them as quietly as possible. They were about twenty yards away from me, in the center of a small clearing. There were about fifteen or so, dancing around the fire. All but two of them were bare-ass naked, and painted with all kinds of fucked up shit all over them. It was pretty obvious that the two others, a woman and a man, had been dragged in here from outside the park. The man lay prone out on a table. He’d been gutted from stem to stern, and the freaks were tearing out chunks of meat and guts like he was some kind of fucking buffet table. The woman’s hands were tied to a tree, so that her face was a few inches away from the tree trunk. She was a definite looker with long black hair, and had on a ragged white blouse. The rest of her clothes had been torn from her, and she bled from several small cuts all across her rear and legs. She tried to recoil as a very visibly excited freak grabbed her, and began taking out his romantic frustrations on her ass. Her screams brought back a few nasty memories, so I decided to go say hi to my new playmates.

It’s amazing how the sound of a twelve gauge shell being jacked into the chamber can grab a person’s attention. Loverboy immediately forgot the woman as I stepped out of the woods, not four feet from him. She fell, limp against the tree when he pulled out, while he burbled something incoherent at me. Probably angry with my interrupting his date. I apologized for my rudeness in my own charming manner, "Whatever you say, motherfucker." Then, I shot him in the throat. It was refreshing to see his head go flying.

Sure as hell got the attention of the others. I jacked another shell in the chamber, and got ready for some serious fun. Another one of the freaks, a female, came running at me, tits waggling all over the place. I drew an old Smith and Wesson (lots of toys laying around these days), and dotted her forehead with a .44 slug. The back of her head disappeared in a cloud of grey mush, and she went down like a fucking ox.

It took killing about six more of them before the others bolted into the woods. One of them tripped on his way out and fell into the fire. Apparently, whatever the genius had used to paint himself up with was flammable. Little naked fucker went up like rice paper. Well, except that rice paper doesn’t make that much fucking noise.

I went over to the woman while the rest beat feet. She lay against the tree, soaked with sweat, hanging from her hands. She looked up at me, and started shaking her head. Her mouth was working, but no sound was coming out. As far as she was concerned, I might as well have been the Devil himself at that point. I drew out my Spyderco, and cut the ropes holding her hands. She rubbed her wrists, giving me a strange look, and I turned to go find her something to cover up with. There were a couple of body parts laying around from past party nights. I found a wrap that looked a little small, but I figured it would work for the time being. I helped her to her feet, and wrapped the cloth around her. I misjudged the fit a little, the thing tied off at her waist, but pretty much hung open down the length of her leg. At least it covered the important parts. She looked up at me, "Why are you helping me?"

"Nothing better to do," I said. I handed her the big Smith. "You know how to use one of these?" She popped the cylinder out, spun it once to check the load, and slung it back in with a flick of her wrist. Tough bitch. I like that in a woman. I handed her the P-14 that was stuck in my waistband (like I don’t have enough fucking guns anyway). "Between the two, you’ve got 21 rounds of incendiary ammo. Should be more than enough to cover your ass until you get out of the park, and back under cover." I pointed her back at the path I had taken into the park. She looked down the path, then back at me. I nodded her on, and she moved out, quick and quiet.

I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I still had some frustrations to work out. Like I said, that was a day and a half ago, and I came back out this morning, soaked to the bone in blood, exhausted, but feeling much better. I just got back to my current hole a few hours ago. I’m going to clean up (even though washing’s been outlawed), and catch some down time. I know I said that pretty much anything goes in this shit hole. I guess I should amend that statement. Anything goes except anything that you would find listed in a Boy Scout oath. Cleanliness, truthfulness, virtue; all on the no-no list. Fuck ‘em. I smell like a charnel house. I’m taking a shower.

Not a bad couple of days, over all. Proved that, even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I need fear no evil, for I am still the baddest son of a bitch in the Valley.

Hallelujah baby.

A-fucking-men

Damn. Slept straight through Friday, and almost half of today. Guess I was more tired than I thought. Dangerous to be off guard for that long around here. When I woke up, she (the woman from the park) was here, keeping watch. Damn near made me jump out of my skin to see her in the room with me when I woke up. She told me her name was Rachel, and she had waited outside the park the whole time for me to come out. She didn’t have anywhere else to go, so she followed me back here. I was so damn tired that I didn’t even notice.

She had gotten some clothes from somewhere. Not nearly as revealing as her last ensemble, but no less flattering to her form. Considering I hadn’t been close to a clean woman since Jaime died, I was finding it a little hard to concentrate on anything but her chest (I may not give a shit about the world and life in general, but I’m still a man for chrissake). I shook my head and tried to shake the memory of her total lack of tan lines out of my head.

She’s asked to stay with me. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and doesn’t feel safe on her own. The guy she was with in the park had been a would-be rapist that just happened to get pulled into the park along with her. The freak patrol didn’t care what you were if you drifted too close to their borders.

I don’t know what fucking sentimental dog of a demon possessed me at the time, but I told her OK. Thought I’d finally gotten rid of this over-protective-of-women streak. Jaime used to call it Sir Lancelot syndrome. Whatever the hell caused it, she moves quiet, and can handle just about any weapon I put in her hands. At least it means another set of eyes, and another gun at my side.

Now, if that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.