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Entry Date: early 2005, February?

Dear Diary,

Strange as it sounds, it's not the pounding and moaning that bothers me. It's Christine.

I don't know where she is or if she's even still...No! Must remain positive. I believe she's alive but after so much time and all that's happened, it's hard to say.

I'm going to go looking for her soon, probably as soon as my food runs low, which should be about two days from now. I've got two cans of beans, half a stale loaf of bread and a banana that hasn't quite spoiled yet. I don't think I can eat it though. I hate banana's. How funny is that? So much has happened and yet I won't eat a simple banana.

Mrs. Connolly is at it again pretty hard today. Yesterday I thought she went away so I crept quietly up the basement stairs and unboarded the door as silently as I could. I listened for awhile before opening it but I heard nothing.

So I went out into the house and there was no sign of Mrs. Connolly except a few of her fingernails embedded into the wood panelling of the basement door ( I didn't see those until I had to run back down the stairs).

I checked out the rest of the house pretty quickly. No sign of her or anyone else. I went into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. I picked out an apple that still seemed okay and went and looked in the closet to look for a winter jacket. If I was going to go look for Christine then I'd have to have some warm clothes.

I found a decent jacket that must have belonged to Mr. Connolly and I also found a baseball bat. It must have belonged to their son once. I wonder what became of him?

As I grabbed the bat, I heard a strange sound. Not much really, a kind of snapping sound. I listened closely wondering if maybe Mrs. Connolly was back...or something else.

Then I heard the snap again.

I walked cautiously into the living room. The first time I checked the house I didn't notice that the front door was slightly ajar. Now that I did notice it, I was more relieved than anything. It probably meant that Mrs. Connolly had remembered how to open the door and had left.

That sounded good to me. Those things don't do so good out in the cold. They seem to slow down and spend most of their time looking for warm places around the city, like houses. This thought chilled me so I went and locked the door.

Then I heard a different sound. Like something was being ripped open.

This time I clued in to where the sounds were coming from. The area behind the couch which I couldn't see behind from where I was standing. I clenched the bat nervously and slowly moved towards the couch.

When I saw what was behind it, the first thing that came to my mind was, "Oh. There's Mr. Connolly."

He had on the remnants of his favourite suit and it dawned on me what happened. He had been in Canada on business when everything happened and he couldn't get back till now.

Well, he was back allright but Mrs. Connolly was kneeling over his half devoured body, shovelling innards into her mouth.

Her back was to me and she didn't even notice as I came up behind her with the bat, ready to knock her dead again. They rarely notice anything when they're feeding like this.

I managed to get her attention pretty quick when I brought the bat down across her shoulders but I noticed that I had held back a bit. I mean, she used to babysit me when I was young. She was the maid of honour at my mothers wedding. I had never even punched someone before let alone crack an animated corpse with a baseball bat. It was gonna take awhile to get used to this kind of stuff.

Mrs. Connolly had turned around at this point. I could hardly recognize her even though she still had on her blue flowered dress and her hair was in her familiar bun. Her eyes looked clouded over, almost like cataracts had enveloped both eyes. Her skin looked almost as blue as the sky and there was dark blood pouring down her chin and onto her dress.

Mr. Connolly's face looked surprised.

Well, after seeing all this, I ran as fast as I could back down those stairs to the basement and boarded myself in again. I should have run out the front door and gotten out of there but sometimes when you're scared, you don't think too straight.

And so here I am, thinking about Christine, and Mrs. Connolly has resumed pounding on the door again. For now I'll go to sleep and tomorrow I'll wake up and eat and try to summon the courage to go back out there. Lucky for me I didn't drop the baseball bat. The only weapons I can find in this basement are an old hollow shower rod and some kind of garden tool. Too bad there wasn't an old T.V. down here so I could find out how bad things have gotten. I got a pretty good idea anyways.

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