Empty

Hundreds of Infected everywhere when we woke this morning. A few walked right by our car. The dim light and relentless rain left us all but invisible. Where the hell did they come from?

Starting the car earned us a few glances but the Infected seemed slower to notice us in the rain. By the time any had taken more than a couple of steps towards us we were driving around them and on our way.

There's little point dwelling on where they came from. It's a lesson learned to simply see them appear like that overnight. Their numbers would have overwhelmed us had they noticed us. We were saved by the weather.

The search for fuel took a nasty turn today. After leaving enough space between us and the crowd of Infected, I slowed the car down so that we could inspect other vehicles as we drove past. Almost all had their fuel caps opened or removed. It was pure hubris to think that we were the only desperate survivors to pass this way.

At first I was elated, thinking that there might be other survivors, but hope quickly faded. I realised this could have happened at any time over the past few weeks. This is why I am so desperate for news.

Keeping the car slow enough to check out every vehicle we pass is going to expend fuel a lot faster than we can afford. We are parked right now. I have to pick a town or village to explore. Main plans haven't changed, but the cars I thought we could siphon clean on the road have already been emptied. Just hope the village/town situation isn't the same. Cars there, especially in garages and carports, are our best hope. That means we have to dick around with hoses and fuel caps while worrying about the Infected again. Great.

Craig just stares out of the window. He's eating still, which I assume is a good sign, but other than that he does almost nothing. Then again, there's nothing to do except stare out of the window.