Dear Ezekiel

I.

        Dear Ezekiel, you are the prophet for whom I keep this journal, a journal kept in my head.  I keep these words within my brain because I no longer have time for the conventions of pen and paper.  I am dying Ezekiel.  I can feel the death rot growing inside of me.  Yes, all men die, but even as we speak I can feel my pulse slowing, my skin becoming cold and my movements awkward.  Also I feel the hunger more and more.  The hunger grows outward from my belly into every fiber of my being.  I hate this hunger feeling, but while I am still alive I will eat the food of men Ezekiel, nothing more. 
        I was not bitten Ezekiel, but have become sick anyway.  What did they say on the television those days long ago?  Dust from a passing asteroid is to blame, a kind of space sickness.  I am infected, but I am still with the group.  There are fifteen of us including my young wife and child.  Father Zeb has kept us well to this point, though I think that Zeb is becoming suspicious of me, and perhaps Gloria my wife is also suspicious.  My boy is so young.  I carry a gun, but I have not succumbed to my sorrows because of my boy Jacob. 

II.

        Jacob is the most precious thing left in this world.  I understand that my moments left with Jacob are few.  Zeb talked to me closely just a bit ago.  It was a conversation that we didn’t need to have.  He was gauging me, testing me, and I explained to him that I would leave before things got too bad.  Zeb, with his bald head and fanatic’s face, God love him he has let me stay a bit longer. 
        We left our shelter recently and have been on the move out in the open, but I suppose you know this.  These are difficult times, moving through the remnants of a city crawling with dead men.  Ezekiel, the most difficult thing is seeing the corpses, half eaten and devoured, just gory husks.  I can’t imagine how hard it is for my Jacob to see the world like this.  I must stay strong and well for Jacob.  He needs me now more than ever. 

III.

        Praise you Ezekiel!  I feel better this morning.  I have a fever, but my pulse is stronger.  Gloria says that I look less waxy.  We travelled all through the night, but Zeb has led us to a sanctuary.  The place is gated and made of stone like a castle.  The stone structure sits on top of a hill and Zeb says that the basement is filled with provisions.  A group of the soulless dead have followed us over the last few miles of our trek.  The way was wooded and to hear the moans of the zombies as you travel through darkened forest is unexplainably difficult.  Jacob shook like a leaf and was so scared that he could not speak, only cry.  I carried him upon my back through those woods and held Gloria’s hand.  Somehow I was given the strength to do this.  We had no flashlight, but I led the group through the darkened woods like a bloodhound.  I could see through the darkness. 
        When we got to the gates, resting his chin upon my shoulder Jacob asked me, “Daddy is God in that castle,”
        I nodded.  Suddenly pain racked my body and I knew that all was not well.  The night’s exertion had distracted me from my transformation.  The morning dawn seemed milky to my eyes.  Dawn was breaking Ezekiel, and the dead were still upon us in the distance.  You could hear them noisily breaking sticks under foot in the damp soil.  We still had to climb the fence.
A tree is what the group used to climb and jump over the heavy iron fence that protected the stone structure, our salvation.   
        Zombies make poor climbers.  Zeb and I waited while the others made it over the fence.  With uncanny strength I lifted Gloria and Jacob into the tree.  I could see in Gloria’s eyes that she knew something was wrong with me.  Jacob did not understand.  He only saw his daddy standing below him.  With the last of my speech I muttered “Love,” my voice sounding inhuman.
        Zeb was fearful as he looked at me.  He made the sign of the cross and clambered up the tree.  The dead were now upon us.  With the last of my humanity I defended the ground of that tree.  The zombies pushed upon me, uninterested in my flesh.  A large number of zombies crowded at the iron fence and I used the remainder of my bullets in killing those that I could.  They must never break that gate.  I should have left a bullet for myself, but my thinking is not clear.  Why I am still able to think Ezekiel?  I do not know, but I should have turned from the fence.  Jacob was standing on the other side, his mother frantically pulling at his arms as the group ran for the stone house.  The boy was reaching for me, screaming for me, scared that the monsters would eat me, but they did not. 

IV.

        I have not made it out of the forest.  Above me the sky is dark.  I have no concept of time.  I think that I have been asleep for awhile because I was lying on the ground.  My body is sluggish and clumsy.  I stumble a lot.  There are gaps in my memory.  Skeletons dance inside my brain.  I am fading away.  Hungry, my stomach moans.  My thoughts are confused.  I start myself moving.  Why have you awakened me Ezekiel?  I will walk to the ocean.  I want to talk to you Ezekiel.  You have made me angry.  I want to go back to sleep.  Stomach moans.  I am hungry.