(Missed the last entry? Click here: https://www.vizzed.com/boards/thread.php?id=73767 WARNING: Entries of After Apocalypse may contain mild language and horrific events. Reader's discretion is advised.)
January 5, 2089
   Woke up bright and early to a officer shaking Tom and I awake. I vaguely remembered that I had a job to do: go out hunting for supplies to bring back to Haven. Apparently, the new guy would be joining us on this mission. I checked him out. Jet black hair, piercing brown eyes, pretty strong build. He couldn't be much older than me... Maybe in his young twenties? Anyways, we were issued standard pistols and three clips of ammo. That's only twenty-four bullets. If you count the other two, that's seventy-two bullets total. Not much when you start thinking about the hordes of hundreds of zombies that could be shambling our way, right now. I tried not to think about it. As we left the camp, the weight of our mission really seemed to sit on our shoulders fully for the first time. Me and Tom shut up pretty much immediately. The other guy didn't talk much to begin with, but you could see he was skittish. We hunted through a few empty offices very close to camp, and found pretty much nothing. After looking around a bit more, we decided to move away from our comfort zone. A few miles away, we came across a old kitchen. It was pretty well stocked, but it was littered with putrid bodies. We set up camp. The guy uttered but one word: "Rick". Sheesh. This guy is a real mood killer.

January 6, 2089
   We all woke up to the first rays of sun. It was dim. It always was. I heard no groans; no noise, no shambling. It was too quiet. We gathered what we could, and wanted to get out quick. As we hurried, Tom hit a frying pan and it fell off it's resting place on a grease caked stove and clattered on the ground, making a loud "BANG!". That's when the whole place came alive. Bodies that had been dead returned to the world of the living, moaning and clawing their way into the kitchen. They started piling their way up against the door. I shouted for Rick and Tom to open the back door, or the emergency exit. The back door was barricaded hopelessly, and the emergency exit was jammed shut, respectively. The pile of bodies finally broke through the door, and the dead were upon us. The stench of rotten flesh blasted our noses, as we lined up in defensive positions. Several shots were fired, inhuman screams, and repeat. The adrenaline pumping through my veins was intense, and I blew a whole clip of ammunition in mere seconds, effectively taking down four or five hostiles. They were (re)dead within minutes, and we looted them. All we found that could be useful was a few shotgun shells, and a pack of cigarettes to "feed Rick's addiction." Ah, great. We better conserve ammo, because I only have a magazine, and Tom has three bullets. Rick has a magazine and a half. We started back to Haven immediately, with about a week's worth of food for the citizens. No more setbacks were run into. We arrived at Haven late into the night. We have to hold our own until tomorrow.

(Enjoyed? Have constructive criticism? Leave it by posting below! Thank you!)

Awesome work again, man. I just now got to read this, but it's easily the best installment so far. Again, I love the diary approach, and the way that it's made so reader friendly. Great job.