Today, we pick up our traps. Before, it was daily. Now it's weekly. Because of the lack of staff and the low trapping. It's quite simple really. We just go to each of our huge holes, count how many dead bodies there are and what kind (animal or human). Then we pour a little bit of petrol. We throw a match. When the fire is out, we throw a piece of poisoned junk. You can do anything from the top of the pit without danger. Richard had planned it well. Safety first.

The five traps closest to the fortress are empty. The next five are almost identical. Just two rats and a fox. The ten kilometres around the farmhouse are almost clear. To get to the last ten traps, we'll have to cross a piece of forest. This is a dangerous place. Lots of hiding places and shadows for the monsters. I get into the pick-up with Mélia and Killer our dog. We shut our windows and lock the doors. She drives, I clutch my gun. The pick-up is reinforced with bull bars. However, the smell of meat in the back is enticing.

We drive carefully through and around the forest. We do not come across any healthy or infected beings. The four traps surrounding the forest have always been the most prolific. However, for the last two weeks we have found nothing or very little. A few rats or birds. For four months we have not trapped any humanoids except in the nearby town of Town, on the outskirts of our last expedition. I shudder every time I go there. Not for the zombies, for the remaining survivors who were trying to kill Melia and me.

Every time we went back to the place, we left a note for our opponents. To tell them that we were still alive and that we were going to smash their greedy faces in. Psychological warfare to undermine their morale. Richard had tried to negotiate, to share, to help each other survive. They shot at us, tried to steal our vehicle, our supplies. They deserved no mercy. Mélia painted their hideout with a pink target. I tagged "Fuck" or "Die all" on the walls.

I did the counting too. There were five of them left, wounded, when we returned to the farmhouse. Three were captured in our traps, infected, a few days later. There were still two left. One of them had no right arm left. I saw him once. Melia drew his silhouette on a wall with a target on his head. Fifteen days later I shot him dead. He had begun his transformation. The last one died of poisoning from eating our bait. He hadn't cleaned it properly. Mélia and I rejoiced. We became spiteful and resentful. Survival is also about neutralizing your enemies.

Since then, we have been the sole owners of Town. Melia decorates the surroundings of our traps with bright colours. She draws on the walls to brighten up the decor. Her madness is expressed in colour and Kawai images. Mine brings out my hunting and killing instincts. I find myself enjoying burning the corpses we find. Unless it's the smell of roasted rat that makes me happy.

I enjoy the adrenaline rush before entering a building or a supposedly dangerous area. I secure houses one by one. Checking them from top to bottom and leaving all the rooms lit. By turning on all the radios or sound diffusers I can find. Neighbourhood by neighbourhood, I eliminate the hiding places one by one. I make the place uninhabitable for an infected person, even for rats.

Thanks to the traps and my hunting, we have a perimeter of about twenty-five kilometres around the farmhouse that is relatively clean, almost healthy and above all suitable for reconquest. My objective is three hundred kilometres to reach the sea in the west. From this point, I could make an island of reconquest with a healthy interior where the weakest humans could cultivate. But with two people, it is impossible. It's already a miracle to keep a circle of twenty-five km to two half-crazed kids and a semi-wild dog.

When a house is secured, we indicate with a coloured circle the location of the key to enter to future travellers. We no longer give the location of the farmhouse, but that of a few shelters. For the moment, they remain empty. We check them every week. We leave canned food and bandages in them. Updated information on the bacteria. Paper and pencils to leave us a note. Nothing. For six months. Not a sign of life.

With Mélia safely inside the pick-up, I gather the corpses of animals found here and there in the same pit. Hundreds of rats. A few birds and cats. Bones found all over the city. I cleared out the mercenary hideout. Anything that is not useful, I threw into the hole. The pieces of wood or various unusable fuels too. I make a huge pyre. A pile of rubbish to be cleared away. I need to clean, to sanitise. The flames give me a sense of calm. No doubt about it, I'm crazy.

Somehow I feel like I'm participating in the survival of the human race. I make a huge blaze that will burn for several days and will be visible from far away. From far away. To indicate that there is life around here. It's a risk if we run into mercenaries. A risk to take if you want to find other humans. Survival is about regrouping to be stronger.

With the electricity still working miraculously, I light up the city. Every house, every building, every street lamp, every neon sign... Every light source is in operation. Day and night. I also turn up the music everywhere. We found the local radio station. We play my love Kawai's playlist on a loop all over town and at full blast.

It's infernal. It's fun. The city is a giant disco. An evil place for infected creatures. Our spirits rise with each visit. Survival is all about being yourself and taking advantage of the happy moments to regain your strength. Six months with the boy-band repertoire on a daily basis. My sanity is diminishing by the day. Mélia starts listening to Richard's old songs, the ones that are over forty years old. She too is losing her mind. We repeat the choreography of our favourite songs over and over again. To exercise our memory and let off steam. To clear our heads and feel like we're celebrating.

On two other frequencies, we spread our message as far as possible. Asking those who receive it to send it back on the air as much as possible. I couldn't help but put a warning on the air for the ill-intentioned belligerents. To warn them that there is no point in looking for us, if they come with bad intentions, I will unleash a herd of creatures on them. I even described the torture of being eaten by rats while alive by detailing what had happened to the last belligerents who had dared to attack us. This horrible lie sounds so real when you hear my demented laughter at the end of the message. It sure does. I'm out of my mind. I'm freaking myself out.

Crazy, yes, but effective cleaners. We've almost cleaned up the forest. We're close to our goal on Town. In a few weeks, I think Town and the forest will be healthy. Melia and I are going on expeditions further and further afield. With the help of a mini shovel we found there, we set two traps in a second, much larger town, fifty kilometres from the farmhouse: Georgia.

We are going to inspect them and then return. These are full every week. Three quarters of them are animals, scavenging rats, humanoids too. Beautiful weekly infernos. We've already flooded three districts with Kawai music. They're glowing. That's our next goal. Sanitize Georgia.

On the way back, I make Melia stop. I've spotted something in the distance in an as yet unsecured area. Another trap, inspired by ours, is being built. There is something written on the road signs. Melia gets as close as she can. She leaves the engine running and stays behind the wheel, a gun in her hand. I get out. I read.

- HELP. We are ten. We are hungry. We are surrounded by zombies. We've seen your traps. Please! Help us! We are peaceful. Jules NOGUERRA

Professor Noguerra. Thibaut's father. The note is not dated, but it seems recent. I tell Mélia straight away. We think for barely thirty seconds before deciding to help him. I write him a note.

- THAT for charismatic and educational teacher. You will find food and clean water in the boot of the blue car opposite. The key is on the seat of the red car. I'll leave you a guide with all the information we have. Turn on the lights and play music throughout the city. Avoid darkness and silence. Here are three boxes of rat poison for your trap. I have reloaded the other two traps with poisoned corpses. Flee from this town if you can. Come to Town. It's a small town to the south about twenty kilometres away. The area is mostly safe. There are many safe havens. The blue car and the red car are full. A crazy student of yours.

Melia and I keep our fingers crossed. Few people will understand the full word, only the teacher and our friends in fact. We pack up our supplies as indicated in the letter. We can't stay. It will soon be dark. The area is more than unhealthy. We turn back with a heavy heart. Finding survivors must not be at the risk of our lives. We are deciding in the car to go back to Town every night before dark for the next week, we want those who would come. We will return to Georgia in seven days.