Five weeks have passed since I first met up with Courtney and Germaine. Germaine has been extra diligent in making sure she does not lose track of her calendar. Courtney had found her an analog watch which greatly helped with that. Though if the time on there is correct or not, we can only assume. It's getting cold and we're expecting the snow to start flying any day now.

I've gotten very close to both the sisters. But especially with Germaine. A few times now she has asked me too lift her out of her chair and into her bed. Something she has been able to do herself for the past several years. We both know it's unnecessary, but neither of us is willing to admit that.

Since finishing clearing out the building we've agreed to try to not kill any zombies we don't need to. On the off chance a cure is eventually found.

None of us hold out much hope of a cure being found. We figure most of the world is gone. And the number of us that are left, is likely shrinking daily. Germaine maintains that if there is ever going to be a cure. The only hope lies in the scientists from the article she had shown me before. But the odds of them being alive, let alone with a functioning lab and power supply were slim.

We've discussed trying to go find them. See if they're alive and offer what little help we can. It's not a realistic goal at all though. The distance we'd have to travel would take us weeks. Weeks of being exposed. Just getting Germaine out of the building would drain us of all our energy.

I have taken to using a pick axe we found as my method of defence. Courtney continually reminds me it's inefficient. And runs the risk of getting stuck in a zombies head. But I brush that off, it's better than the scythe was, and I'm rarely facing more than one zombie at a time anyways.

Courtney says she found a canned salmon factory about an hours walk from here. Which we will be going to today. I've asked a few times how she's found this place. She simply keeps replying with.

"I just remembered it was there."

Germaine and I both know that's a lie. Courtney has still been using the pills. And with the supply at near by pharmacies having run dry. She has been venturing out on her own at night. Going further and further in search of more pills.

Courtney and I descend the stairs. Bitter cold biting though our clothes. That's only going to get worse. As we walk the street toward the salmonery we note that we are seeing fewer and fewer zombies each time we go out. Wondering if perhaps Germaine's theory that they need a power source is correct. We also discuss the possibility that they could be migrating. Like birds flying south for the winter.

About twenty minutes away from home we come upon an upscale clothing store. Seemingly the only place that has not yet been looted. The windows not even cracked. I suppose until now it hasn't been necessary for anyone's survival.

There's not much inside by way of winter clothing. And what little there is, there's even less for men. I find myself a dark green wool hat and matching gloves. Courtney opting for something a bit different.

"I know money doesn't matter anymore but I never could have afforded this before."

She says, as she grabs a large white fur coat with matching fur hat, and black leather gloves.

"Mobility doesn't matter when you've got a gun."

she reasoned, then continued too say.

"You should grab a jacket too."

She was right. I should, but there was absolutely nothing there. Nothing that would fit me, be warm, and was designed for men. Courtney had begun searching through the sweaters to take home for herself and Germaine. Having no heat the apartment is going to get cold.

I had just about convinced myself into a jacket matching Courtney's, when I spotted the perfect one. The only downside, someone else is already wearing it. A body laying in the street.

I really don't like taking from others. A business is easy to not put a face on. There's enough of a disconnect that it doesn't bother me. But a person, living or dead the face is right there. Watching you take from them.

Courtney must've known what I was thinking as she came over. She rests a hand on my shoulder and says.

"It's really nice. Emotional discomfort is better than physical discomfort. Besides, he's not gonna miss it."

Knowing she's right, I walk over and take the coat. It's trickier than I thought, Getting caught on his arms I need to shake pretty aggressively to free the sleeves. It may have been easier if I wasn't nervous he'd wake up.

Putting it on, it feels like it instantly became an extension of my skin. Beautiful, heavy, brown leather, it must have been new. Still having that fresh leather smell.

I check the pockets and find a wallet and some black squares I don't recognize. I toss the wallet away not wanting to know who this man was. And ask Courtney about the squares.

"Those are camera batteries."

She tells me, pointing to the camera around his neck.

She then picks up the wallet.

"I thought this guy looked familiar. He was a photographer for the local news paper. James Scandon. Looks like he died in the line of duty. Probably mistaken for a zombie."

She says, pointing to what I assume is a bullet hole straight through his thigh.

I thought I wanted to avoid knowing anything about him. But knowing his name, his career. And having an idea about how he died. It makes things a bit easier. Like I'm honouring his memory by wearing his jacket. Instead of just leaving him to rot and be forgotten.

We go back inside. Courtney picks out six sweaters and folds them up and leaves the stack by the door. Figuring we'll grab them on our way back from the factory.

By the time we step back out the snow is falling. A thick blanket falling heavy and hard. It's hard to see anything. Barely I make out the shape of someone standing only fifty meters away. Just staring at us. I tap on Courtney's shoulder, pointing. She sees them too. And raises her gun.

"No, wait. We don't want to kill any we don't have too remember? Let's just go to the factory and when we come back to pick up the sweaters, they'll probably have wondered away."

She agrees and we begin walking.

Once there, we enter through a receiving door that's been left wide open. The building is huge and dark. Sunlight already fading fast, and obscured by the thick wall of snow coming down. We stick close together. There are a lot of places for zombies to be hiding. We agree it's best to be in and out as quick as possible. Right beside the door. Presumably waiting for a truck. We find a palette full of cans.

"Levi, there must be over a thousand cans on here."

"It's a long hard walk back, how may do you think we can carry?"

"All of them."

And with that Courtney hops onto a near by forklift and turns it on.

"Ha ha, still got some life left in it. Hopefully enough to get us home. If we can get in the parking garage, we can just run down and grab a box whenever we need one. And if not, well.. at least we won't need to carry them as far."

It sounded like an excellent idea to me. But before I had the chance to express that, Courtney had already picked up the skid and was out the door.

I jog out to catch up, and hop on. Holding onto the side as we ride along.

"How do you know how to drive this thing?"

I ask.

"I actually use to drive one for work. Before all this happened."

Courtney replies.

We're making excellent time on our way back to the apartment. Only about five minutes away from the clothing store. The ride has been fairly smooth given the conditions. Save for skidding a few times when swerving to avoid bodies on the road.

I'm thinking another benefit to this is we can carry back a lot more clothing, when, BANG! There's a loud noise. Courtney comes to a screeching halt.

I can't tell where the sound is coming from. I feel something hit my shoulder and I fall to the ground.

Laying in the snow, holding my shoulder. A large red car rolls up and stops in front of us. I look up at Courtney and realize my shoulder wasn't hit at all.

Courtney was. She holds her collar as blood gushes out from under her hand.