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in edgewise.
     
    Jack isn’t difficult to talk to, just very short and simple. He is rather blunt and inconsiderate, shutting down any chance of conversation when I joked about his woman going off with another guy. Then again, I’m not well known for my social grace. No pun intended.
     
    The time alone caused his resistance to die down, and Jack told me of his story. I already suspected that Jack had some sort of military experience from his behavior and attitude, but I didn’t suspect that he was somehow involved with a band of disgruntled survivors that called themselves the Marauders. Apparently they formed a little before the media began running their horridly butchered reports, and intended to protect those that came into contact with the strange walkers. They would run patrols during the night, examining the backcountry for any signs of zombies, hunting them down with accuracy and proficiency. They protected the neighborhood from a threat the news thought to be non-existent.
     
    Their noble crusade expanded. They worked hard to cover-up any one’s encounter with these walking fiends, but obviously from the reports they weren’t able to protect everyone. They continued to assist those caught with murder with the best intentions, but their helping hand received a nasty backlash. Once news broke out about their existence, it didn’t take long for the networks to spin it as an underground terrorist activity. After all, they were acting without an official command, using illegal weaponry, and most were ex-military.
     
    From description alone, this group sounded wholesome, like the type of people we should be looking for, but then it began to set in. When the shit hit the fan and all hell broke loose, the Marauders were no longer there to offer support. Hunted down and persecuted, it didn’t take long for the members to take on a different perspective. Besides, most felt as if recognition and respect were to be paid for their duty. So they began storming houses for members, resources, and anything else they could use.
     
    According to Jack, he was only in the group for a short time, under the impression that they meant what they claimed they stood for. He claims he disbanded once he noticed that they were simply terrorizing the neighborhood, acting like petty thugs with military-grade weaponry.
     
    I bet Jack had more involvement than what he lets on. I assumed this at first, but after my questions were bluntly ignored, I now know for sure. Either way, perhaps having a disbanded member of the Marauders would work in our favor. But I’m still indifferent as to whether I would actually save him if the time ever comes.
     
     
     
    Entry Thirty-three, 1/16/15
     
    Status report? What the fuck is there to say? Jack never regrouped with the rest of us. But he sure took it upon himself to ridicule my constant log. He grabbed the journal, ripped pages out at random, stating that I was wasting my time. I protested, but all it did was urge him to toss the journal further into the woods.
     
    Everyone had reached their boiling point, even though James tried to distract Grace with some stories from time to time, the tensions ran higher than ever. I finally told them of what I intended to do. James already knew, but he didn’t really jump in to back me up. Grace didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to, I could already tell that she didn’t believe me. Even when I explained the videos, they disregarded it. I think the realization was too much for them to try to even bear. To actually accept the existence of Hell and its army invading Earth sounds too insane. So Jack did what he does best, act irrational. He took my bag, kicked it away and found my journal as he raided the rest of the contents.
     
    The others weren’t so incline to assist me, but the commotion baited us for an ambush of rogue survivors willing to shed blood for our supplies. They nearly caught us by surprise, but Grace’s instant dive for cover