I've noticed undocumented symptoms.

I've watched three of my friends turn, As a bit of a curious george, I tied the first one down with leather straps the second they were bitten, And sat by them as they turned, That was a mistake, Considering the unwritten symptoms. His name was Tommy, And he was one of my fringe friends, One of those people you consider your friend but don't make an active effort to hang out with, But after Z-Day, I was desperate for company and so I took what I could get, Struggling to get together a group of survivors, I stole my dad's van, He doesn't need it anymore anyway, He had disappeared the night before. I started texting every contact I knew...5 answered....5...Out of 87...5. We made it back to my house, And were on our way inside, When I found my dad... He stood there, All 6 foot 300 pounds of him...If there is a real life allegory for the left for dead tank, This was it. He charged at me with speed I had never seen of a 50 year old man, And when he hit me it was like a train. I was launched backwards but somehow managed to keep my footing, Upon landing I began to run as fast as I could towards his old mining equipment, Specifically the pickaxe. I made it there with barely enough time to grab it and turn around and brace myself for what I knew I must do...Kill my father. I swung the pickaxe up in the air, And brought it down with everything in me square on his head. It made a sickening cracking sound and blood trickled out a little at first, And then a lot. The pickaxe stuck out of his head like you'd expect. He fell on the ground with a thud and twitched a bit. My group walked over and surrounded him.

Tommy, In his dumbest decision ever, Said "Is he dead?" And then proceeded to attempt to prod him with his foot.... In a last burst of life my dad sprang over and grabbed Tommy's foot, As my dad bit down Tommy let out a bloodcurdling yell, And kicked my dad square in the head. I grabbed the sledgehammer and hit the pickaxe a little on the side, Splitting his head between the back on the head and the front. We burned his body in the front yard, And I said a few words.

We dragged Tommy inside, And knowing he would soon be infected, We tied him to a bed, For science. We watched as he grew happier and happier, He would talk to us about how many things he wanted to kill, A strange smile on his face, And then it happened. We told him how we were going to have to kill him and how we were very sorry for it. He grew red with rage, And broke the leather strap on his right arm, He proceeded to grab my throat with pure brute strength, I had an open pocketknife on the nightstand, I grabbed it and sliced the tendons in his arm...There was so much blood...So much screaming...I went on to slice the tendons in the rest of his limbs, To be sure this wouldn't happen again. He squirmed there as I left the room to get his salvation, My Louisville slugger. I walked back into the room, And he had someone gotten out of the straps, And was standing in the corner braced against the wall, One of the other survivors, Brandy, Laying beneath his feet, Covered in either his blood or hers. The moment he saw me he tried to run toward me, But with his tendons sliced he just fell on the ground...I walked slowly to him and said "Sorry, Tommy." And smashed his brain in with the bat.

Since then I have restrained the infected in my recording studio with two chains per limb, And have executed them about an hour after turning.

Brandy's infection was pretty uneventful, But I felt more remorseful because she was a cute girl, Instead of a boy.

Without further stalling, Here are the undocumented symptoms.

• Heightened strength and endurance
• A overall feeling of well being and euphoria
• Violent tenancies, Even while still in their "human" mindset

I have yet to execute the third one, His name was Cameron, He got infected because he thought it would be a good idea to go to my neighbors house to look for food, He was bitten after going through the pantry in my neighbors house. He begged me to not tie him down, But I assured him I would make him as comfortable as possible. I plan to experiment on him and try to find a cure, If possible, Or at least restore some form of sentient thought or consciousness, Through the use of drugs from the pharmacy, I plan to take my group to the backyard shed to grab some weapons, Then we're going to the local gun shop, Then we're going to the pharmacy to stock up on medical supplies and the aforementioned drugs.

I'll keep you guys updated.

UPDATE: 6-10-12

I found some Aricept in the pharmacy, It's a well known Alzheimer's medication, And put some down cameron's feeding tube, He calmed down and stopped squirming, And lost the "I want to kill you" look in his eyes, And began making grunts that almost sounded like he was trying to speak, I don't know if this is a potential cure but it seems to have a positive effect on behavior, I will give him this every day, At regular times, To see if it brings him down to at least a low level of sentience.