Entry 7

The gun fire began to slow towards dawn on Sunday morning. At first light, we looked out my little window to find the field once covered with beautiful dark green grass was now an ocean of bodies and blood. I fought the urge to vomit, though I wasn't sure how much of my nausea was from the gore or from the alcohol the night before. (Check out my awesome rhyme. I was a poet and didn’t even know it.)
Anyway, it was hard to tell where one body ended and another began. There were pieces everywhere. It all kind of meshed together, but almost right away, I picked up moment. Scattered throughout the field were what looked like people, hunched over like squirrels working on nuts. After further investigation (which consisted of us tossing around ideas of whether they were defecating, eating, or just on a really bad acid trip), we discovered they were actually eating the human remains. I’m sure that can’t be healthy, though it might fit in with that low carb diet everyone is raging about.
We all just stayed put and played video games. At least we still have power and water. With all of the supplies, my dad broke down a rationing chart with instructions of how much we should be consuming each day based on how many people are in the group. It worked pretty well, though it wasn’t hard. Spam and baked beans may be good once maybe twice a month, but almost every day? Needless to say, we were getting tired of the food (and a little gassy).
By noon, the temperature had reached 90 degrees. There was an awful smell in the air which I instantly blamed on Jeremy. It reeked like raw chicken and fish left out overnight in a sauna. It certainly was gag worthy. I even suggested that once this is all over, Jeremy should see a doctor about it. It just ain’t right.
Of course, he insisted he was not the one responsible for the smell. His was the age-old defense that who ever smelt it, had indeed dealt it, while I stuck with the theory that who ever denied it, supplied it. That was when Heather chimed in saying that the smell was not generated from the bowels of anyone present in the room. She suggested that, in fact, the smell was penetrating the building from outside.
To test this theory, I opened the window slightly. It was barely cracked when my nose was attacked by a wall of the horrible, riotous odor. I let out a gagging noise and couldn’t get the window closed fast enough. We all cleared out of my dorm room, tripping over each other. I ran to the closet at the end of the hall. It was always locked, and this time was no different. I would have torn the door off with my bare hands. Lucky for me, I had a screw driver included in the supplies Dad sent me. Risking life and nostril hair, I ran back into my dorm room, grabbed the screw driver, and ran back out. I took the hinges off the door and grabbed as many bottles of Febreeze as my little arms could carry.

After going through three bottles and lighting all the candles and incense we could find, we could finally breathe without worrying about tossing our cookies, though all the fragrances gave us headaches.

I looked outside again over the field and noticed a man looking up at the window. He was covered in blood and walked like he had a bum leg. He kept walking towards the building until he was directly under the window. The look on his face terrified me. Then, he began to attack the brick walls of the dorm with his hands. I didn’t know what to think. None of us did. Something happened to the people in our town, and we might possibly be the only normal survivors in the area. All I could think of was how life was before all this happened. It would be finals week. I almost rather be taking a final than facing this plague. Almost.