Journal:John Hawke

Wednesday, September 21st, 2005

I'm Lt. John Hawke, Able Company, 82nd Airborne, 506th PIR, US Army. We dropped into West Boundwood from Black Hawks two days ago as part of the rescue effort to help clean up some of this ridiculous shitstorm. My platoon consists of 3 squads of men, 8 men to a squad. We had standing orders to split up and recover any civilians still holding out against the epidemic and to extract them upon confirmation that they were free of the pathogen. My weapons specialist and good buddy, Spc. Roy Cobb and I checked out the Eaglesfield Library as per our orders, but found no one alive. Three bodies lay outside the library and the sickly sweet smell of death lingered on. It kind of reminded me of the Gulf in '91, in ways that weren't all too pleasant. Cobb and I returned to the perimeter I'd ordered set up around the Lowther Lane Fire Hall, encountering minimal pathogenic activity along the way, only to discover that our squad had been decimated. A few feasting zombies who'd gotten the drop on the perimeter we'd set up remained, and we sent them to "the other place". Cobb radioed back that the mission had failed completely and we were told to scrap it and report back to the DZ for extraction. However, I received the most terrible news of my life - my brother Staff Sgt. Dante Hawke of the Malton Police, also part of the rescue effort, disappeared somewhere around Pitneybank. He went out on a patrol and 48 hours later he still hadn't returned. If something's happened to my brother, I'm going to find out. He's out there somwhere among all this death and madness, and I'll be damned if I'm going to leave him. I told Cobb to get back to the DZ and report that I was going in to search for him. Hopefully I'll be able to get resupplied by air soon - my radio still works and I should be able to get extracted if things get too tight. Thanks for all your help, Cobb. Good luck to you.

Hang on Brother, I'm coming to get you.

Thursday, September 22nd, 2005

Had a bite from one of my MRE's an hour ago, but the stench in this city was just too much, and I had to put it away. Holding your nose can only do so much. I'm holding steady in a building, but I've lost track of exactly where I am. As I'm writing this, I'm balancing a map on my other knee and trying to figure out just which way I have to head in order to find my brother. He could be anywhere right now, of course, but maybe I can find some clues as to what happened to him in Pitneybank. I've heard over the radio that some areas of the city have been taken over by armed civilians who've taken the issue of their defense into their own hands. Problem is, they're shooting everyone - infected, or not. Command approved my search mission, provided I keep in constant contact and call for an evac if things get too hairy, but they've warned me to stay away from a nearby area called Shearbank. I'm thinking of taking their advice - I don't want to shoot any civilians, armed or not, and I certainly don't want to get shot at. So, barring word that my brother is in Shearbank, I'm staying the hell away from the place.

Maybe it's time to try that MRE again.

Friday, September 23rd, 2005

Stayed in the Lock Boulevard Police Department last night. The place was a bloody tomb, but a few survivors trickled in. Most of them were civilians, but a few cops and even a few Necrotech guys made their way in. Being part of the military's response efforts, I took charge and pitched in with building a barricade to keep out anyone infected with the virus. Had a bit of help from a guy who called himself 'Mover,' although his arrogant attitude didn't win him any friends. One of the wounded civilians who wandered in went terminal and..God, I had to shoot him. I had to shoot him right in the head. Mover went nuts and started shooting at the rest of the wounded, raving about how they were going to "kill us all." I disarmed him and threw him out the second floor window onto the street below - luckily, no one was injured (most importantly, me). I could've easily shot him too, but after I was forced to shoot that terminal civilian to save the rest of them...I don't think I had the stomach for much more violence.

I've run out of ammo. Making my way through the streets is taxing as it is, and more often than not there are simply just too many zombies for me to handle. I've found myself relying more and more on stealth than direct engagement lately - in the end, a firefight is more trouble than it's worth, and my supply of ammo is limited. I tried to radio for resupply, but the word at Fort George is that they can't spare a chopper at the moment. The radioman advised me to keep a low profile and to conserve both my ammunition and my rations. It looks like it's going to be a while before I get resupplied, so I went scrounging around the police station and found a few shotgun shells. Fair enough, but since I don't have a shotgun the point is kind of moot. I'm heading south now, in the hopes that I'll encounter some ammo and food - and maybe clues to what happened to Dante.

Hawke Out.

Monday, September 26th, 2005

That was a hell of a weekend. I managed to find my way into a police station with a bunch of other survivors on Friday, and spent the night there. From there, I made my way into Ketchelbank, near the heart of the city, and encountered Malton's massive city zoo. I made a careful patrol of the place, but I had to keep out of sight - the place was swarming with the infected. I managed to stay out of sight thankfully. I even had the good luck to find a baseball bat, which I'm sure will come in handy now that I'm completely out of ammunition. I tried radioing back to the division CP to report in and request more ammo, but it was no use - something is creating an inordinate amount of interference in this part of town. Anyhow, after completing my survey of the zoo, I hightailed it out of there as fast as i could. Dusk was setting in, and I managed to force my way into a barricaded building, but the place was a charnel house and a bloody mess. Someone had gotten inside without anyone detecting that they were infected, and from what I can guess once they succumbed they started tearing everyone in the building apart. I dumped three dead bodies outside and went looking for any other survivors. I finally found one upstairs hiding in a barricaded room, but he refused to come out no matter how much I coaxed him. On the way down the stairs I caught sight of the carrier who had caused so much hell and death. Knowing that the only weapon I had was a baseball bat, I dived out a first floor window through the glass and hit the street below tucked into a roll. I came up running and made my way into Patriarch General Hospital. It seems more or less safe in here for the time being. I hope.

Hawke Out.

Friday, October 28th, 2005

I've been surviving for the past month in Giddings Mall with a group known as PA Rebel Alliance. They've made it into a human safehouse. Fort Creedy fell to the Zombie Hordes a few weeks ago - everyone just fled when the Zombies broke through the barricades. Some members of the CDF have joined us here at Giddings Mall. Word is that a Zombie Horde is making its way to Giddings. This may be it. Dante, I haven't found you, and I don't know where you are. I may die here.

I've kept this journal so that if I do fall, someone will be able to know what happened to me. I hope it doesn't come to that.

Hawke Out.

Sunday, October 30th, 2005

Armagiddings has started. The Horde is here and they are smashing away on the barricades, trying to get in. This may be the end.

They've broken in twice today, and twice I've managed to close the doors and put up barricades. The last time only five zombies broke in before I shut the doors. I've been able to keep reasonably stocked with ammunition - Malton seems a pretty trigger happy city, judging from the number of Gun stores in this mall. I don't know how long I can hold out. I am growing more and more tired all the time and things look desperate. But I take hope from the fact that after three days we have still held out. We will never give in. This infection will die before it ever leaves Malton. If the price that must be paid out is my precious blood spilled all over the ground beneath my feet, then so be it. I will never leave this mall until every last zombie is dead and the infection is stopped.

Rosary kissed and Hail Marys said,

Hawke Out.

Monday, October 31st, 2005

John gritted his teeth and pushed another shell into the chamber of his shotgun. The zombie scourge had worked themselves into a frenzy and had battered down the barricades in Giddings Mall. As the survivors fired shell after shell and emptied clip after clip into the approaching zombie horde, they set upon the first wave of defenders. Hawke took careful aim and blew the back of a zombie's skull off just before it set upon a screaming teenaged girl, armed now with only an empty pistol. Another zombie grabbed the girl with filthy, outstretched hands. From his position on the second floor, Hawke lept over the railings and onto the zombie's back, knocking it down. Throwing his bandoleer of ammo to the girl, he yelled to her, "get to the second floor and hold the line!" The girl beat a hasty retreat, all the while firing into the approaching horde. Hawke railed away at a zombie's head with the stock of his shotgun. A zombie grabbed it away and it became lost in the approaching horde. The last anyone saw of Lt. John Hawke, Able Company, 82nd Airborne, 506th PIR, US Army, he was tearing zombies limb from limb with an axe. No one has been in contact with him since then.

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2005 - The Resurrection of John Hawke

The most unbelievable thing has happened. The last thing I remember I was in Pitneybank, looking for Dante. I had taken up refuge in Giddings Mall with a group known as The PARA's, and we had been defending against a massive zombie horde that had gathered around the mall. I remember jumping down from the second floor of the mall to save a girl from a zombie that was about to tear her apart. I also remember that when I landed, my leg shattered. I knew I was done for at that point. I knew that I'd never see Dante again, that now my parents would have to deal with the loss of two sons, and that I'd become one of the infected, preying on the survivors of Malton. So I resolved to take as many of them with me as possible. I hacked away at the horde until they had set upon me, and then everything went black. I don't remember anything after that.

I never wanted to go that way; Helpless and unable to defend myself. If I could have only gotten up, if I could have only run that ten feet to the safety of the second line of barricades, they never would have...

I died there. I don't know anything else, but I know that I died there in that mall. It's still hard for me to even begin to comprehend the meaning of that.

But here I am, in an abandoned shop in Scarletwood. After I blacked out at the mall, I don't remember much of what happened. I don't remember events, but I remember...feelings. An intense hunger, such as I'd never felt before. Flashes of light, rushes of adrenaline. I feel like I've fought 50 rounds with my old combat instructor after coming off of an all night binge of Old Sam. What I do remember is opening my eyes to the fuzzy image of a red-haired girl with a needle in her hands.

"Don't move," she said. "Your leg is broken."

"Who are you?" I said weakly. Then I blacked out.

Right now, I'm lying on an old grey cot in the back of an auto-shop, and she's sitting on a red metal tool-chest opposite me on the other side of the room. I have a feeling she's a lot to tell me about what I'm doing here, so far from Pitneybank. And about why I'm not dead when I should be.

It's going to be a hell of a red letter day.

Hawke Out.