August 3rd, 2056

I had to shoot the dog. I took no pleasure in it, I must admit. I cried over that dog.

Macy tried to comfort me, but nothing came through. The dog saved my life many times over. It hurt to see her suffering so much, a chunk of flesh missing from her back, already turning green-ish brown from the infection. It was rotting before my very eyes. I shot the dog before the kids saw and buried her in the backyard.

On the bright side, our traps are working. We caught a fawn; Macy told me after I told the kids the dog ran away. She made us soup. I’m so glad they’re catching animals. We haven’t had fresh meat in days. I was worried the kids were going to starve before we got anything.

It was some damn good soup.

August 5th, 2056

Lucy got sick. Macy said they were on a walk and she ate some poisonous leaves. The poor thing was starving. We gave her the leftover soup so she can get better. I think Harlan caught it too. He hasn’t gotten out of bed all day.

Honestly, I’m not feeling great either. I’ve been feeling under the weather for the past few days. Maybe it’s grief from losing the dog. I don’t know anymore.

The traps haven’t caught anything else yet.

August 8th, 2056

Lucy is dead.

I had no choice. She was turned. I don’t know how. I killed her the same way I killed the dog. She didn’t suffer at all.

I don’t know how to tell Harlan.

August 9th, 2056

Macy made soup again. The traps caught veal this time. A cow must have escaped from the ranch nearby. It was dead when she found it.

Harlan is sick, so we gave him Lucy’s portion. We told him she went to the stronghold beyond the canyon. He asked when he could go there too. I can’t lose him either. Macy’s been acting strange too. I think she’s getting whatever he has. I think I’m sick too, but I can’t let them know. I need to carry us forward.

August 10th, 2056

I want to kill her.

Macy fed us the infected meat from the dog. We were all infected, but Lucy got the worst of it. She turned the fastest.

We ate her. Macy said it was veal and I didn’t question it. She fed me my fucking daughter. She’s killed us all. We fed more to Harlan, so he got infected too. I had to kill him too. She’s about to turn, I can feel it. I’m not going to give her that chance.

August 12th, 2056

She’s dead.

I’m next.

If you’re reading this, stay away. Don’t eat the meat in the icebox. Don’t eat anything.

Good luck.

-Trenton Katze

P.S. the revolver has five bullets left in it.