I've barricaded myself in the storage/utility room, which is downstairs in the finished basement. I left a note for my wife and her mom in case they make it home. They had gone shopping before the outbreak. I hope to god that they are still alive. There's lots of canned food to survive on in here. And a fridge with water and some other stuff. So at least I have food. But what's the point? I've been bitten. My neck has stopped bleeding, but I feel so weak. Goddammit. In all the zombie movies I've seen, I never pictured myself playing the role of the "infected guy." I always pictured myself the survivor, with his girl by his side, escaping the zombies to start a new life together. I start to get the feeling that I've barricaded myself in this room not so much to keep zombies out, but to keep me in, away from hurting anyone. I never wanted to be the infected guy...fuck. I found a partially full bottle of Smirnoff vodka in the freezer. I used some of it to clean my wound, then I took a few pulls. Luckily the power has not gone out...yet. The wireless is still working. I'm glad I grabbed my laptop, so I can continue to communicate with the outside world. I'll try...but my mind doesn't feel so right. I got to rest. Maybe...what if...the zombie didn't infect me? Maybe...by some chance? Please...I'm just going to sleep for a littlewhile.....................

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