Has it really been a year, gentle readers? My how the time flies when you’re being chased by a ravenous group of zeds and scavenging for food in the woods. Wherever did the time go?

When we last left you, we were fleeing our cannibal and undead aggressors, headed west to find a new home. However we had persevered and despite our dire circumstances (not least of which included a broken CD player), we were able to keep our spirits up. We even had a good old fashion Easter egg hunt. After all, you should never let a little mortal danger ruin the holidays!

We feel terrible for the abrupt way we left off. Of course it was terribly rude but I think once you know what happened, all will be forgiven. It was mid-afternoon and we had just pulled into a rundown liquor store. Miss E was gathering supplies to siphon gas and Mr. K was gathering the menfolk to raid the liquor store shelves for snacks. I was getting the junior survivors ready for a bathroom run.

Mr. K and the menfolk got off the bus first and did an initial sweep. We hadn’t seen a zed in days. This being whiskey country pre-panic, everyone had shotguns and very few zed strongholds were able to be established. Therefore, we were not as careful as we should have been and the pack of wild zeds that came at us from the woods took us completely by surprise. I won’t bore you with the details of the fight, although I was happy to have an opportunity to put my cross bow skills to the test. What is important is that by the end of the battle, we had gone from 19 survivors to just 8.

We were forced to abandon the bus and most of our supplies. It has been over a year and our group has lost two more members. Tragically, none of our junior survivors have made it. These were trying times for a lady! Roasted chicken dinners seemed to be a thing of the past; Miss E’s rat catching and roasting skills were invaluable!

There is good news however! We have reached what seems to be strong survivor group. After months of walking and scavenging, we came to a small gated community in the Carolinas (it seems we got a little turned around in the past year!). It is the kind of suburban haven that served as a status symbol for middle-management types in the pre-panic days. The heavy gates and picket fences that use to keep out the poors, now serve as a first defense against the hungry hordes.

The denizens of Windy Pines planned community have welcomed us with a somewhat guarded hospitality, as befits these new times. I’m confident we can win them over with dandelion wine and chicken pot pie. If nothing else, it feels wonderful to take a proper bath.

Much more to come!

Mrs. K