1969. 1969. 1969. 1969. 1969. 1969.

The year that changed my life. I am Corporal Johnson. I was a prisoner of Hope Idaho. A voluntary prisoner.

I observed my surroundings. Maimed limbs, bodies and puddles of blood were littered across the town center. I inhaled the strong scent of gunpowder, closed my eyes and exhaled heavily. I strolled forward, ignoring the echoes of gunfire behind me, followed by the angered screams of the dozens of infected villagers being gunned down in the hospital. I continued to walk down towards the center, before catching a glimpse of the "Hope Women's Club." The bright yellow sign hanging over the entrance was riddled with bullet holes, no doubt caused by the extraction team, or possibly the small pockets of resistance that still retained the intelligence necessary to use firearms. There was an eerie silence as I observed the clubhouse, before a sharp scream erupted from the hospital behind me. A scream loud enough to have echoed throughout the town. A scream that would have curdled the blood in the veins of even the most renowned of war veterans. A scream that that was only too familiar.