Free Day by Day Armageddon by J. L. Bourne

Shane Stahl here, Concord, Texas. Anyone there?"
     
       "Yes, this is Captain Thomas Beverly formerly of the 24th special tactics squadron, it's good to hear your voice. "
     
      The conversation went on, and the two exchanged information and decided upon an extraction point not far from "Shane's" house, near a water tower off the interstate. John and I discussed this new development, and decided it best to continue monitoring and gathering information, until it could be discerned that this rogue group was, in fact, a benign group of left over volunteers.
     
      Spent much of this morning reading over the aircraft manuals and emergency procedures. I wanted to be knowledgeable of this aircraft's systems the next time I took her up, just in case.
     
      John and I discussed numerous destinations for our next outing. We had one of two options. Continue to stay here, and hope we don't get overrun, or take the bird and what we can fit inside and head southeast to the islands off the coast of Corpus Christi. There is a naval air station in Corpus, and I'm sure there is plenty of fuel, and maybe even a better aircraft.
     
      If we chose the bug out option, careful consideration would have to be given as to what equipment stays and what goes with us in the plane. John and I have a combined weight of 360 lbs. Add fuel and luggage to that, and we can only afford to fly with four hundred pounds of supplies. That was also pushing it, and that wasn't much when you added it all up. We began to make a list of things we absolutely could not leave. John listed, "dog, 20 lbs." I told John, not to worry, Annabelle was coming with us.
     
      We wouldn't be leaving today, or tomorrow for that matter. I told John that I did not wish to die on my birthday.
     
    January 29th, 1250 hrs
     
      A group of bikers came roaring through our neighbourhood thirty minutes ago. John had to put the muzzle on Annabelle to keep her from barking. I doubt they would hear the bark over the roar of their engines, but my motto is "no chances." I counted 70-80 bikes as the convoy rolled past. Many bikes had passengers. Most bikes had long rifle/shotgun holsters mounted on them complete with weapon.
     
      I noticed something that I don't think you would have seen before this epidemic. There weren't just cruisers, there were also racing bikes (crotch rockets) in the convoy. I bet they used the racers as recon scouts. Again, this group looked rough, and I didn't see it necessary to alert them of our presence.
     
    1847 hrs
     
      The sound of moaning, shuffling dead is almost unbearable. Three hours after the bike convoy came through, the creatures that were no doubt following them began their slow parade into the neighbourhood. John and 1 are maintaining our silence. In the fading light there are too many of them to count. This could easily turn into the worst-case scenario. I do not think that they are alerted to our presence, but I cannot be sure. I can see them periodically looking in (his direction, and walking into my wall, but I do not know if they are trying to get in, because of the noise.
     
      I went to my gun cabinet, and pulled out two sets of yellow foam earplugs and handed one to John. I told John that if we had to make a break for it tomorrow, we were going to need our rest. John stuck them in his pocket and nodded.
     
    2213 hrs
     
      We got our things ready just in case we had to make the great escape. Many of the ghouls have continued on their path in the direction of the bikers. But many more, seemingly lost and confused have camped out here on our street, just walking around bumping each other and changing direction. It reminded me of my college physics class years ago. The molecules were bumping into each other in unpredictable patterns and just milling about on the slide. I would say a safe estimate puts the count at 85 walking dead. I can only go off the moon and starlight for my estimations.
     
       Note to self: Find