#journal404

I still hear a lot of stuff going on from the city. I hear gunshots, some explosions maybe? And screaming. There's still a lot of screaming. But there's not a lot of movement on the backroads, so I think I'm a little safe back here? I think I'm going to go find the highway and catch a ride or something. 

I checked my phone one minute, and it said 9am. I checked it a minute later, and it said 5pm. I counted to 60, I know it was a minute. I don't think I can trust my phone anymore. I left it behind. I started to get away from the Uni, and I had to follow some roads and I had to deal with some of the biting dudes. But it's really slow, walking. I think I should get a car or something? A bike? I don't know. But I'm getting around the city, and I don't think it's a good idea to just walk right into the city. Anyway, I haven't seen someone who wasn't all dead kind of. That can't be a good thing, can it?

After a few hours, I decided to leave. I had to double back through the East Wing, to see if any of the production team made it. But I only found Mike. He was just standing there, staring at me with a bit of flesh hanging in his mouth. On it was a butterfly tattoo. The one the make-up girls had that tattoo, and was really proud of it. Had to do with her mother or something like that. Julie was her name I think. I had to use the hammer on him. Mike's head is now just a stain on the ground and the hammer is wrecked. I looked around for something useful for about an hour. I found a painter's mask, a pair of goggles that fit over my glasses, and a toolbelt. I've watched enough zombie movies to know that getting some blood in your mouth or eyes is a BAD IDEA. And, right before I left, I found a new hammer. A big old sledgehammer. It's a weapon, and it's going to have to work for now. I also think I see the sunrise, but it's off. It's... pink. Real pink. That's weird. 

Shit. Shit shit shit. I can't believe what happened. My hands are shaking. I need to stop and think. Gather my thoughts, write down what happened. Mike... fucking Mike. We were about to start, and he finds this dude. This construction worker. And the guy... the guy BITES MIKE. Everyone freaks out, and the worker starts chasing me down. He traps me in a corner, and I... I see a toolbox. I see a hammer and I grab it and... my shirts covered in blood. That was an hour ago, and I can't find anybody. It's 6am now. I've been sitting in the dark for that long? Maybe my phone's wrong. I don't know. But the sun should be up, shouldn't it? It's still dark out. Real dark. I'm... I'm scared. 

So we're starting our shoot. We're working around some renovations in the East Wing. It’s late, nearing midnight and everybody is tired. But there’s no more workers around so I think we're good. Mike’s the first zombie, and is the first to die. Serves the ass right, hehehe. Some of the other guys don’t want to be around here, but I think it should be fine.

So my Professor told me that having a production journal would help get extra marks. Anything to help I guess. Some of the guys I’m working with aren't great at all, so I'm going to need it. I don't think I'm going to let the Prof see this one though, I don't think she'll enjoy me talking shit about my classmates. Oh well. We start production tomorrow, and one guy Mike is already complaining. Augh he’s a pain. After a lot of yelling and swearing we're going to do a comedy/zombie movie. Shaun of the Dead style. Should be okay. Anyway, I’ll put in a new entry tomorrow.

I'm sorry, Dirk....I'm sorry I've been failing...we'll see each other soon.

I bet even his brother wants to rip into that ass.