Not alone

Hey.

So… I didn’t think I’d be writing in this again. But here I am.

Good news first? I have a new pet. Turns out that scratching in the attic was just a squirrel that must’ve found it’s way in. I had to put him in a cage because I think the little fart was replicating nuts and acorns, by accident, because my attic was full of them. He’s happy with the peanut butter I’m giving him now. Which is good because now I can keep that under control.

Now the bad. I had another close encounter with those…people. Right after I had managed to get a hold of my little furry visitor the things at the front door left. Don’t know why. I kept watch for the better part of an hour maybe and there was no sign of them. They must’ve took the body because it was nowhere to be seen.

Then, the back door opened.

A man, dressed in dark green scrubs, giggled from two mouths. Behind him, more of his fellows were pouring into the house. In a slow, methodical manner. I could see a scalpel lodged in the door handle.

I wasn’t playing this time. I let loose with my 870. Giggles was the first to go. When he went down, his friends pointed and laughed at his body and then at me. Then kept coming.

I slammed shell after shell into what started to seem like a teeming mass of limbs and faces. A wave of flesh that slowly oozed its way towards me, forcing me out of the living room and down the hallway. I fired until I had no shells left and switched to my Glock. Before I knew it I was in the basement.

They took the lights out as they slowly backed me into a corner next to the furnace. The only light I had was the muzzle flash from my pistol. They were getting closer.

Closer.

The slide locked open on my Glock and I was met with a dead man’s click. I fumbled for another magazine but I felt a searing pain in my hand that jolted up my arm and I dropped the spare. I felt a hot breath that reeked of death brush against my face when suddenly…

Click.

The lights came on. They were gone. Stuck in my left hand was what looked like a screwdriver. I scrambled up the stairs and followed the spent shotgun hulls to the back door which was now closed.

No bodies. No blood. Nothing. The only signs that there had been a fight were the casings all over the floor and the metal still stuck in my hand.

Reset? Had to have been. The shells and magazines I had taken out of the closet were back. So I guess it banishes things too.

My squirrel friend is ok. Thankfully. Guess they weren’t too interested in him.

I’ve barricaded the back door. Fool me once. Got my hand fixed up too. Still hurts like hell but I got plenty to take care of it.

Another thing happened too before I started writing. Through the peephole I saw someone. Despite the fact they were armed with a machete and a couple other instruments of destruction, they looked normal. They came up to my front door. Looking it over. Couldn’t quite tell who they were, they were covered up in improvised armor and clothing. All I could see was that they didn’t look very tall. And their eyes were brown.

I took a chance and called out to them. They seemed to jump, startled. Then booked it. Looking over their shoulder once before disappearing from view.

I don’t know if that was a bad move. But it kind of gave me hope.

I think I’m going to make an attempt to explore the parking garage. If I use the reset I can stock up on enough supplies and ammunition to make a trek. I don’t know what I’ll find out there and I’m leery on leaving the relative safety of my house but waiting around for more things to get in isn’t playing well on my psyche either. Truth be told I’m having a hard time sleeping. Maybe I can move the cars around and barricade the front of my house better. Maybe I can learn more about this situation I’m in.

Maybe I’ll find that person again. Maybe they’ll be friendly.

That’s a lot of maybes. But “maybe” is better than nothing.

In the meantime I have to give my little furry friend a name. He must be getting more comfortable with me because he isn’t making that annoying racket and chattering thing that he was doing before. He seems to like crackers. He's kind of funny to watch.

Something I’ve been struggling with a bit has to do with the thought as to whether I can get out of this mess. I mean…is there a way out? Or am I stuck here for good? Where am I stuck?

What is that reset thing? Why does it happen? Why do my doors connect to places but my windows lead to... screams. What are these things, these mimics, these doppelgangers, whatever you want to call them? Why do they talk that way? Why do they want to hurt me?

What the hell is going on?

I got way too many questions and not nearly enough answers it seems. But I guess I'm glad I can write in this journal. Though I have to wonder if this is the original. I kept moving the thing so now I have—————

That person is back.

They’re not alone.