Survivor's Journal

As I sit here, writing my final words I recollect on previous events. I realize how the last 24 hours have felt like an eternity to me. A nightmarish reality that I will soon wake up from. Two thousand years of evolution undone within these 24 hours. I do not know what has happened to my family since the incident. I already know that by the time I finish writing this, whatever has caused this destruction of mankind will have spread as far as the Northern border, maybe even further.

I do not even know what the cause of this calamity is, but it struck fast. Quick and precise. I have only seen two humans; my kind of human, since the meaning of the word 'human' has changed dramatically over the past day. One of whom lay dead before me. Soon I will accept the same fate. As the red sun rises over the restaurant I currently reside in, bright slivers penetrate the boarded windows and doors, mocking me with false hopes of survival.

I had awoke yesterday morning to screams coming from outside. What I then saw through the window of my living room could be compared to what one sees when entering hell for the first time. Houses were blazing, corpses were littered across the yards and street like dolls left out by a child. I couldn't take anymore of the chaos. I bolted the doors and snuck away to the basement. It felt like I was down there for days, but It was only 1:30 in the afternoon when I finally left the house.

When I inspected the bodies of my neighbors I found their flesh torn off. Limbs were missing, bones, licked clean. Someone, or something, was feeding on the bodies. In a panic I started to run. I ran until I couldn't run anymore. Then I hid. Exhausted from the trauma, I slept. I slept in my hideaway. I was then awoken by the first living thing I'd seen all day. A man, screaming, running through the streets, being chased by the second living thing I'd seen all day. A woman, no more than 20 was chasing the man down the lane. He was a large man, quite capable of knocking the young woman over.

I didn't understand it right away, but there was something about the woman. her clothes were torn and her hair was balding in spots. It took me a minute to realize she was a mess. She clumsy, but at the same time, moving with a hidden agility. An agility that allowed her to catch up to the man. She jumped onto the man and began to bite his neck. His screams echoed throughout the silent streets. Suddenly, as if summoned by the victim's agony, more men and women, even children began appearing from behind cars and under porches. The man was soon swarmed in attackers. I wanted to make a run for it before they saw me, but I was frozen in fear. These people were eating this man. At this time, I realize what has happened. Like something out of a horror film, men and women have become psychotic cannibals. The mob of beasts soon cleared, leaving a mangled half-eaten corpse behind. The man's clothes torn clean off to expose his flesh. The streets were soon clear again. I made my move.

I was not the first to reach the restaurant. When I arrived, another man was already sealing the doors and windows. At first, he was afraid of me. After seeing what they did to that man, I would be afraid too. As the sun set on the carnage, we finished the last of the work and began to talk. We talked about our experiences thus far, trying to piece together what had happened. The man's name was John. He had come with his family to visit some relatives in town. Apon arrival, they found the carnage I had awaken too. He had already taken shelter with his family and a few other survivors in a small store uptown. The 'infected' as the survivors had coined them, began to swarm the store. In spite of all their best efforts, their sanctuary had been breached. He was the only survivor.

As I write this, the infected are already beginning to swarm this location as well. They have already taken the first floor and I can see them clustered around the building outside. The small 6 shot revolver I now hold is not enough to hold them off. Its only purpose, to save us from a fate worse than death. As John and I talked into the night, he became increasingly pale. When I brought this up, he took off his shirt, revealing torn flesh down his left arm.

"They will have your life, wether they kill you, or not." said John, the last sane man I will ever meet who would not be sane much longer.

Before dawn, he had no choice but to end his own life before the virus could take effect. He left me here, alone with only his revolver and this journal. In this journal I write my story for anyone who may one day search the wreckage of our final sanctuary. As I finish this, they are breaking through our last barricade. In moments they will be on me, but I will not be alive to greet them. All that is in this room is two dead bodies and a journal, telling their story.