Man writing in a journal.
in

Outbreak Journal: vol1 by Elvis A Cardona

Date: 02/05/70
Time: 3:00 p.m.
Location: Newark, New Jersey
Distance from me: Approx. 250 miles
Outbreak Journal: vol1 by Elvis A Cardona

Outbreak Journal: vol1 by Elvis A Cardona: The ten o’clock news on local channel 3, reported some very bizarre and strange activity had been occurring place at a local diner in the Newark area. There were several strange figures committing acts of murder. The reporter interviewed one man who had witnessed the whole thing from his sports car. He told the reporter he had been eating his lunch in the parking lot of the diner, when all of a sudden he noticed about ten to fifteen of what he described as a bunch of homeless people. “They just came out of nowhere, started breaking into the diner and viciously attacking everyone inside.” He told the reporter he could hear women and even men screaming brutally.

They were praying for their lives, he said. “There was blood splatter all over the windows from inside the diner!!” The police arrived shortly at the scene. “Well, we fired off a couple of rounds to get their attention. It got their attention alright!” “They started coming closer towards us and I fired another round in the air to possibly get them to stop but, they didn’t stop”. The officer then stated he and his men had to put them down with Guns blazing. They began shooting at who they thought were regular humans but, soon realized they weren’t. After all that shooting, one of the officers took a good, hard look at who they just shot. He could not believe his eyes. These so called “homeless” people weren’t at all homeless people.

They were dead. And it seemed obvious that they had been dead for quite some time. He then began to notice all the people who had been attacked inside the diner. They all looked like they’d been in a hardcore brawl; cuts, bruises, and even broken bones. He even noticed that the victims had large chunks of flesh missing from them. They looked like bite marks He said. No one knew where they had come from. It was something very strange and unusual… homeless people committing cannibalism? I thought to myself. And more importantly, who the hell were “they”?

As the weeks went by, more and more reports of “strange” figures committing the same type of acts were reported all over the Newark area. How long before it spread to where I was, I had no idea, but it spread like fucking wildfire. I turned on the television and the news reported for everyone in the Newark area is heavily advised to stay indoors. Board up any windows and barricade all doors. I didn’t have time. I peeked out my front window and I saw things that I never thought I would see in this lifetime. People were running for their lives. Taking anything they could their hands on. Total chaos on the street, Fires taking place all around the neighborhood. I immediately turned to my left and I saw my neighbor’s house being overrun by what that man at the diner called “homeless” people and what the news had now labeled “them” as walkers.

Before I knew it those “walkers” were making their way in my direction. I had to act fast but, I didn’t have the first clue on how to get rid of them. I quickly ran back inside and slammed the door. Walkers were everywhere. And time was running out. On my way to the basement, I overheard the reporter on the say the only sure fire way of destroying walkers is to destroy the brain, by using any blunt object; a baseball bat, crowbar, shovel, hammer…the reporter then said the easiest and fastest way would be by shooting them. Since I didn’t own any kind of firearms my only option was to use anything that would be heavy enough.

I went down in my basement and franticly looked for an object of that nature. I found a baseball bat that was lying up against the basement wall. As I began to make my way back up the stairs I heard some footsteps above me. I could see a few of those gruesome things walking around in my living room. It was all I could do to not make any noise that might attract them. Slowly, and with my baseball in hand, I made my way to the top of the basement stairs. Trying not to breathe too heavily and sweating profusely I opened the basement door. I swung open the basement door, and unknowingly bumped into a walker. I opened the door so hard and like greased lightning, I knocked him on his ass.

He obviously didn’t see me coming either. He immediately stood up and charged at me, snarling and growling and with all the strength I could muster, I swung that baseball bat like I was swinging for a home run. I hit him right in the middle of the head, right between his eyes. The walker fell to the floor. He was still somewhat conscious. Trying to get up but he was struggling. Standing over top of him, I straddled him, and I told him I was sorry this happened to you. I then took a deep breath, raised my bat, and struck him again with another blow to his head, cracking his skull exposing his skull and brains. It was all over my baseball bat.

More of them started charging towards me, and all I could do was swing like I was swinging for my very fucking life. It was either going to be me or them, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me. I was going to survive no matter what it took. I wasn’t going to let the dead overrun me, take me down, and eat me. My eyes then shifted to the front door. There weren’t many of them overcrowding at that moment. Maybe I could get past them without them grabbing me, I thought to myself. It was the perfect opportunity to escape from this clusterfuck of walkers. Matter of fact, it was my only escape.

All the doors except the front door were blocked. The walkers were staggering around; salivating, and moaning. Slowly creeping, and quiet, almost as if I were a burglar inside some one’s home, I headed straight for the front door, not taking my sight off of them. They are a severe threat to humanity. And if one gets a hold of you, you’re done for, and once the walkers have you in their sights, they become relentless. I took a deep breath, released, and bolted. Plowing through them like a plower plows through a corn field. As I reached for the door handle, one of them grabbed me, pulled me back and took a chunk out of my arm. “God damn it!!” I was in excruciating pain. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a child; a little girl. She was turned into one of the living dead. I really didn’t care how, though. I raised my bat, but I couldn’t bring myself to killing a little girl, despite the fact that she was dead and took a chunk of flesh out of my arm. Grabbing the wounded area where I had been bitten, I ran out the front door.

Trying to continue on, I searched for any place that was dark and quiet. I had come to the decision, to isolate myself from the rest of society. I found a rundown little trailer. I proceeded inside, looked around, and just sat and waited for the infection to take its course. I knew my time was short, so, I made the best of it while I could. Digging In my back Levis jean pocket, I pulled out my old wallet, opened it and looked at some pictures that I had taken a long time ago. They were pictures of my wife and our kids.

Staring at them and thinking about the way it was before all this. My eyes were watering and then tears followed. Looking up towards the ceiling, I began praying to God. Asking him how on earth could you let this happen?! I didn’t ask for any of this shit!! I screamed at the top of my lungs as if the almighty were listening. I laughed aloud. I knew I was going to turn—eventually, but how long before I did? Before long I would be dead, walking around, Lifeless and without any emotion or recollection of who I used to be. I couldn’t imagine feeding on the flesh of living people or on dead people either. At this point I’d wish I’d had a gun. Because if I did, I would’ve opted out. Man, wouldn’t that be the way out of all this shit, but it would too late anyway on the count of the virus is already coursing through my bloodstream. That’s the way it works, I guess. One bite kills you. Then you become reanimated. Sometimes it takes hours and other times, it’s only a matter of minutes before you turn. All I could do was wait…wait for the inevitable.

Prologue: journal entry # 123: Whoever finds this journal, opens it, and reads it means I am already dead. I hope that whoever reads it will take to heed to all the warnings that have been explained fully inside this journal. These are all of the events that have been happening throughout the area, maybe even the entire world. Who knows, but I hope you, the reader, will not make the same mistakes that I have made along the way. With that being said, take this journal and use it for its vital information in which I have written. If it’s one thing I am positively sure of, it’s that there is no cure for whatever the virus is. To my knowledge most of us are already carrying the virus, and if you so happen to die without the cause of a bite or a scratch from a walker, you automatically turn. Remember…THERE IS NO CURE, but there is still hope for the rest of you out there, who in fact are trying to survive this horrible outbreak. You have been warned.

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