Diary of the dead: 28 weeks later

My name is Jack Wallace. I am writing this diary as a testament to the things I've witnessed over the last 28 weeks. At this moment, I am locked in a building with thousands of flesh eating zombies waiting on the other side of this door. It is only a matter of time before they break in and kill us all.

In the beginning, no one knew what was happening. It came fast and without warning. I was serving in the Army in Afghanistan at the time. Looking back, hunting for the Taliban and Al Qaeda seemed simpler than this. The first time a breakout occurred, it was in a small Michigan town called Cedarville. The town was quarantined and the end result was that no one left there alive.

What were perceived as riots were actually swarms of the walking dead. No one wanted to believe that they were zombies. Who could have imagined such a thing? The infection spread quickly, although no one was sure how. Later we realized it was spread through bites, scratches or transmission of blood.

Civilians were told to stay indoors. They were told the CDC was working on a cure for the infection and soon a vaccine would be distributed. Initially in towns and cities around Michigan, the local police were brought in to keep order, supported by state police. Soon came the National Guard and then active military forces were brought in.

Within 2 weeks the infection had reached almost all parts of Michigan. The state borders had been closed and they tried to keep it from reaching other parts of the country. Within 3 weeks infections popped up in Kansas and Idaho. It was clear the infection could not be contained. By this time, outbreaks had also been reported in Europe, Asia and North Africa.

One month after the first outbreak, half the country was infected. These creatures were everywhere, consuming everything. As a nation we were fighting an uphill battle. President Obama invoked the Conscription Act, giving every able bodied person the order to report to their local authority, grab a gun and fight.

This was a fight for our lives. Hiding was not an option. Not anymore. It was spreading too fast. Gun fights were everywhere. It was high noon in every street, on every corner and even in schools. I've never seen that many dead bodies in my life. There was so much blood, so much death, and so much horror.

There are things I've thought I'd never see in my life. I have too many bad mmemories that I want to erase from my mind. I keep hoping this is all just a bad dream. Even if I woke up on a battlefield in the middle of Iraq, I'd be so overjoyed I wouldn't care how many bullets were flying by. Just as long as this reality never took place.

My unit first deployed to San Diego, near the airport. There were no people on the highway, only abandoned cars. It almost seemed cool to me to see all the tanks and Hummers driving down the I-5 freeway. The thought seems a bit naïve now. I remember looking over and seeing a group of zombies chasing some civilians on the tarmac. They were running towards a fed-ex truck that was waiting for them.

Two men were waiting in the rear with the door open, screaming for them to hurry. Just as the people reached the truck, about 20 more zombies came from another side. The truck tried to take off, but it didn't make it out. It turned too sharply and rolled over onto its side. Several people from inside the van staggered out and tried to get away, but they were soon overtaken by the horde of the undead. No one survived the attack. Some A-10's came in and finished them off with their Miniguns and rockets. It was a huge explosion. That's when I knew this wasn't going to turn out good. I thought we might not survive this.

Later, I was in a school somewhere in Oklahoma or Nebraska. I was moved around so often it was hard to keep track of where I was. We were called to extract some children from a school. We were using helicopters for cover and taking them out by trucks. Blackhawk helicopters were used to provide security while the children were loaded onto the trucks.

A Jeep pulled up with some soldiers in it. They got out and told us they were from another school about a mile away. They said they were directed to aid us in our evacuation. I asked them what was going on at the other school. One of the mothers from the school we were at walked over to us when she heard what we were talking about. The soldier just shook his head no and walked away.

I knew what he meant- there were no survivors. All those children were gone. The mother frantically asked what he meant. I just grabbed her arm and pulled her away. I then looked back and saw one of our Blackhawks on the ground being overrun by zombies. We opened fire but it was way too late. They swarmed before we could react. We took what survivors we could and left. We were unable to get everyone out. That was the hardest part of it all. Their screams still haunt me in my dreams.

Things spiraled out control even more from then on. In the Armed forces Command and control was lost. I was grouped into units with men I didn't know, some of which weren't even in the same branch as me. Navy cooks were fighting next to marine infantryman. It was chaos and confusion. I saw men lose it quickly out there. People were committing suicide by the dozens, both military and civilian. Whole families killed themselves to avoid the alternative. Such a sad fate especially for the young children who had no idea what was going on.

One day in the midst of chaos during a mission, I saw a man lying on the street. He stood up slowly and turned towards me. His left arm from the elbow down was gone. He was a bloody mess. His face was a look of shock, horror and fear. He knew he was going to die and could do nothing about it. I couldn't move as I watched him look at me. As I stood weighing my options of whether to help him, A Marine ran up to him, raised his M-16 and shot him in the head at point blank range. All I thought was; this man's nightmare is over.

Two months into this my unit had been separated from our division during intense combat with the zombies. We found safe haven at a Zoo. There were 15 foot high brick walls surrounding the whole zoo. Here about 1000 people, mostly civilians, were hiding out. Through testing aided by scientist who worked at the zoo, we discovered that although some animals were susceptible to infection, reptiles were not. We released about 150 alligators to work as "security" for us. They sure killed a lot of those bastards. We were there for about two weeks when we were finally retrieved.

Eventually the situation became too much to deal with effectively and the whole country was evacuated to the open seas. Ships from all over the world were out there. Thousands of them as far as the eye could see. I was on one of the last ships to leave the country. As we finished boarding, those creatures reached the docks. People were screaming to be let on, but we had to leave them behind; men, women, children and even our own soldiers.

A woman handed me her baby and wept as our ship left harbor. When we were far enough out in the water, F-16's dropped napalm bombs and burned the whole dock. As twisted as the logic may sound, it was the only humane thing we could do for them. The sounds of their screaming for help have haunted me since that day.

Many nations banded together to stay alive and safe at sea. Initially, the American fleets had been the coordinators of all efforts such as food distribution, medical care and security for all the ships at sea. We seemed to be the only organization with the logistics to do so. We also organized rescue missions to save as many people as we could.

In the U.S. one stubborn General named Lewis Michael Clark had remained behind with a loyal division of about 3500 soldiers. Their mission was solely to destroy the undead. They were not interested in saving civilians, only to keep the infection from spreading through a war of attrition against the walking dead. He had refused extraction from the U.S., even when given direct orders by the Government.

It was decided to give him support both through equipment and later troop reinforcement. Many people were saved and countless numbers of the undead were destroyed. It was said that he was a descendant of the Civil War General William Tecumseh Sherman. Whether it was true or not it motivated us to fight harder.

I served several tours under General Clark. Some of the soldiers had nicknamed him the "Wolf" as he was a fierce and deadly hunter of the undead. One of the units that were the most deadly and most loyal to him were a small platoon known as Nightwing. They were a very highly trained unit that opted for swords and blade weapons over the use of guns. They wore all black and use night as cover to camouflage themselves. To them, hunting the undead was the ultimate sport.

General Clark was a talented man; some would say he is as artistic in his tactics as he is skillful. He takes a grand approach to his method of warfare, even bordering on theatrical. I had the luxury of working close to his side during one mission. We were perched upon a ridge overlooking a valley in what was once a heavily fortified Civil War era fort. I glanced over the edge to see two men lying in an open field with their guns resting by their side. They were eating and laughing peacefully as if it was a normal day.

I pointed this out to the General and his reply was simple. He said "good, then they are right where they should be." I gave him a bewildered look and he said "think of it like this, every trap needs bait. If you want to catch the mouse, you need a piece of cheese." He then lit up a cigar, took a large puff and blew out smoke rings. He then took a deep breath and extended his legs in a relaxing manner.

I heard the sounds of the approaching zombies. I readied my gun and lifted it up to take aim. He grabbed my arm and shook his head. "Just wait" he said. I saw about 70 of the undead approaching the two men in the field. They didn't budge from their position. The mob moved closer to them and still they did not move. There were about 250 men on the ridge with us and none of them seemed concerned in the least. My heart was racing.

The horde of the undead was about 100 feet from the two men when it happened. 25 men popped out from under the bush covering the ground and slaughtered the zombies with no effort at all. Without firing a single shot, they dispatched the undead using blades only. They were the infamous Nightwing and I had long desired to watch them in action. They were amazing and I realized the General had total control over the situation, even though it was risky and foolish. My confidence in him was greatly boosted. This confidence was short lasted.

After months at sea and many attempts to take back the U.S. from the nightmare that had been thrust upon us, we still were not making the progress we Originally anticipated. It seemed for every zombie we killed, two more popped up in its place. We finally discovered a doctor in Peru who may be able to develop a cure, if he was still alive. 8 separate teams were sent to find this doctor. He was not alive, but we found someone else who clued us in to the roots of this problem. Here is where I end my part of this story and he will add his own words to this diary. To my children, wherever you are, daddy loves and misses you. God bless us all.

My name is Dr. Heindrich Keitle. I was born in Germany in 1942. My father was a prominent doctor in the Third Reich. We moved to South America in 1946 to escape prosecution from the allies. For years under the Hitler regime, my father conducted a wide array of medical experiments including those on living subjects. He was not a fascist or racist, nor am I. We are merely men of science and used an open opportunity to advance the field of medicine, even if it was under otherwise reprehensible circumstances.

I myself was one of these experiments. I was made to be the next level of human- the perfect Aryan specimen; to age slower, to be smarter and stronger than normal humans. Outwardly, I look to be only 25 years old and my I.Q. has been measured at 298.

While she was pregnant, there was an accident and my mother was seriously injured. Her brain was deprived of oxygen for too long and she was unable to be saved. While her brain functions were gone, my father kept her body alive to prevent my death. He perfected this technique and used it on other pregnant women not all of whom died from natural causes. Sometimes the process was sped along to aid the experimentation.

After the war, American officials approached my father to work for them, to create a new super soldier, one capable of healing quickly from injuries on the battlefield to continue fighting. This was a way for tissue to repair itself at unheard of levels, no matter how severe the injury.

During the testing phase of the project, we quickly realized it could also regenerate dead tissue. We could not know the repercussions of this side effect. No one could have known this would happen; that armies of the walking dead would infest our planet like a plague. I tried to work on an antidote for this, to reverse the infection and bring back some of the people from the nightmare they now live. I tried and tried but without my father, I failed. With all of my knowledge, I still can't solve this the way he could have.

I believe there is no cure for this. I've developed a vaccine that helps prevent the infection in some subjects. Only 1 out of 5 seems to respond to it. Our only hope as a species is to survive and wait for the end of this nightmare. I've started a colony in an undisclosed area I've named Odessa to ensure the survival of the human species. No one will ever find this location. It must remain hidden for humanities sake. I will not survive this, but humans will. God forgive me and my father.