Journal:Emmett Saunders

3 July 2005

I can't recollect much of what happened initially, everything was so chaotic. I guess I should start with who I am. My name is Emmett Saunders, I'm thirteen years old and originally from the suburb of Huntley Heights in Malton, England. My mother was a museum curator in the Swears Museum, my father ran out on us when I was eight. I knew him, but I never really admired him, he didn't have time for us even when he was around. He was an alcoholic you see, and addiction does terrible things to your mind from what I've been told. I guess I can't blame him for any of what he did, he was more zombie than human towards the end. Oh the irony...

I've decided to start keeping this journal so that in the likely event I'm murdered by one of those monsters I'll have a memento to (hopefully) keep me sane. Well, I'll save those... things for another entry, it's still traumatizing just thinking about them. On second thought, I think I'll save everything else for another entry, there's something hammering on my door. Sometimes I think fate is working against me...

16 July 2005

I've been running for about two weeks now, I finally cut a hole through one of the junkyard fences and just slipped inside. No one (or thing) seems to have noticed me yet, which is good. Oh and I also found a calendar all buried in rubble, so I'm pretty sure today's the sixteenth. I guess I'll explain a little more about what's going on.

In early June Ridleybank went into a complete riot, and police lost control of the situation. They say it really got out of control when some of the rioters got into the Floyde Stadium in Barrville. After that Malton was in utter chaos. The military closed down the city, and people started dropping like flies. Then they started stopped dropping and started to come back. Some of the more hideous ones could communicate, but for the most part they were almost... feral. Primal, cannibalistic amalgamations, with no purpose other than to feed. They started out as not much of a threat, no one group larger than five of them, easily outsmarted.

Then they started getting organzied, dozens of them, sometimes hundreds, coordinating their attacks, targeting any buildings that could give the survivors an advantage. It was mayhem pure and simple. Strange scientists came with heavy needles. Injecting the needles in the right place reversed the condition of the... well I might as well admit it... of the undead. It was dangerous to approach them though, some of them didn't take well to be being revived. Whatever caused this... this... outbreak seems to leave the victims slightly touched in the head, some of them have developed a form of schizophrenia (Dual Nature) and others are zombies living or dead (Death Cultist). The majority of survivors remain in complete control, but the thought of turning is a scary one.

19 July 2005

Some of those monsters broke in while I was sleeping, one of their bites has given me a nasty infection, this may be my last entry...