Fields of Rot Read Online Free
Author: Jesse Dedman
it, of course he would, but my hands couldn’t reach. He fell, dropping a few stories before rolling along the ground for cover. He attacked wildly with his bass guitar and demanded for us to leave without him.
The man we saved was armed with a submachine gun, and was dedicated to his aim. He had enough ammo to drop the walkers along our path but not enough to save James? I knew trusting her would lead to nothing. This ex-military badass might be a living example of two great action heroes Chuck Norris, and Jack Bauer, but his lack of consideration prevents me from liking him. I only followed because I agreed with him during the moment, but now, as I recall the events, I would’ve rather pushed the fucker into the savage fray.
The two worthless assholes appear to have some sort of connection, nothing amazing, nothing even worth fighting for. They share a bag of stale chips while I sit in solitude at the other end of the store. They’ve already attempted to question me, but I couldn’t work up the effort to talk to them. The very sight of them pissed me off.
That Jack Norris fucker might have a stash of weapons, but he will find it impossible to talk me out of my rations.
Sorry, James Mustang. Sorry I never had the chance to hear you play. Sorry I never took you seriously.
Entry Nineteen, 12/30/14
New year’s eve. The morning started with beautiful break of day, peering out from behind the remains of a small town swimming with a growing mass of walking rot. The hungry, deathly moans hummed in my ear; funny how I became used to it. Perhaps habituation is starting to kick in, or maybe I’m distracted by the alarming curiosity of the other two.
I didn’t sleep at all, not willing to risk a slit neck by the hands of those savages. Grace and Jack watched me all night long. They whispered amongst each other, trying to keep their plan a secret, but Grace kept nodding my way. I knew they were brewing something, and I didn’t have time for any more bullshit. I held on to my thoughts the best I could, redirecting them back to my self-assigned mission. The task sounded simple at first, but now with James gone and an increase of strange, nightmarish activity, my doubt grew.
The two had the nerve to probe me for answers. Jack even raised his gun at me, while Grace threatened me with a bloody machete. I told them only what they needed to know: that I was searching for a way to stop all of this madness. They laughed. Of course they laughed. I wouldn’t expect a reasonable reaction from those dull minded fools. Jack stated there was no fixing of anything, and Grace just continued to laugh, teasing me with her disbelief.
James, I am sorry. But I couldn’t stand the feeling of being misunderstood any longer. It crawled beneath me, tainting my mind with its corrosive vile. Defensively, I told them everything. I shared with them various details about my blog, my journal, personal findings, and the mission.
Jack became resistant. He refused to believe and threatened me by gunpoint not to say another word. He refrained from killing me and taking my supplies when he had the chance. Grace didn’t seem all too concerned about anything, lost in her own thoughts. He could’ve blasted my brains across the wall, but he released me and devised a plan that I couldn’t agree more with.
I’m suspicious for as to the reason, but Jack was convinced that we needed to move to another location, something about this area being compromised even though it wasn’t. I’ve decided to follow them. They were willing to incorporate me, but I still refuse to trust them.
He laughed, once again, when I suggest that we should look for James. He claimed that no man could survive that.
Entry Twenty, 1/1/15
So much to write about. I never thought I the feeling of sadness would find me, but then again, I think I’ve been avoiding it for quite a while. It isn’t simply just
The man we saved was armed with a submachine gun, and was dedicated to his aim. He had enough ammo to drop the walkers along our path but not enough to save James? I knew trusting her would lead to nothing. This ex-military badass might be a living example of two great action heroes Chuck Norris, and Jack Bauer, but his lack of consideration prevents me from liking him. I only followed because I agreed with him during the moment, but now, as I recall the events, I would’ve rather pushed the fucker into the savage fray.
The two worthless assholes appear to have some sort of connection, nothing amazing, nothing even worth fighting for. They share a bag of stale chips while I sit in solitude at the other end of the store. They’ve already attempted to question me, but I couldn’t work up the effort to talk to them. The very sight of them pissed me off.
That Jack Norris fucker might have a stash of weapons, but he will find it impossible to talk me out of my rations.
Sorry, James Mustang. Sorry I never had the chance to hear you play. Sorry I never took you seriously.
Entry Nineteen, 12/30/14
New year’s eve. The morning started with beautiful break of day, peering out from behind the remains of a small town swimming with a growing mass of walking rot. The hungry, deathly moans hummed in my ear; funny how I became used to it. Perhaps habituation is starting to kick in, or maybe I’m distracted by the alarming curiosity of the other two.
I didn’t sleep at all, not willing to risk a slit neck by the hands of those savages. Grace and Jack watched me all night long. They whispered amongst each other, trying to keep their plan a secret, but Grace kept nodding my way. I knew they were brewing something, and I didn’t have time for any more bullshit. I held on to my thoughts the best I could, redirecting them back to my self-assigned mission. The task sounded simple at first, but now with James gone and an increase of strange, nightmarish activity, my doubt grew.
The two had the nerve to probe me for answers. Jack even raised his gun at me, while Grace threatened me with a bloody machete. I told them only what they needed to know: that I was searching for a way to stop all of this madness. They laughed. Of course they laughed. I wouldn’t expect a reasonable reaction from those dull minded fools. Jack stated there was no fixing of anything, and Grace just continued to laugh, teasing me with her disbelief.
James, I am sorry. But I couldn’t stand the feeling of being misunderstood any longer. It crawled beneath me, tainting my mind with its corrosive vile. Defensively, I told them everything. I shared with them various details about my blog, my journal, personal findings, and the mission.
Jack became resistant. He refused to believe and threatened me by gunpoint not to say another word. He refrained from killing me and taking my supplies when he had the chance. Grace didn’t seem all too concerned about anything, lost in her own thoughts. He could’ve blasted my brains across the wall, but he released me and devised a plan that I couldn’t agree more with.
I’m suspicious for as to the reason, but Jack was convinced that we needed to move to another location, something about this area being compromised even though it wasn’t. I’ve decided to follow them. They were willing to incorporate me, but I still refuse to trust them.
He laughed, once again, when I suggest that we should look for James. He claimed that no man could survive that.
Entry Twenty, 1/1/15
So much to write about. I never thought I the feeling of sadness would find me, but then again, I think I’ve been avoiding it for quite a while. It isn’t simply just
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