CSI Fan Fiction - Dead Man's Party: We Are The Dead
Title:Dead Man's Party: We Are The Dead
Author: smilesinc aka WitchGirl
Fandom: CSI
Characters: ALL
Pairings: Anything Canon (GSR)
Rating: R
Genre: Supernatural/Horror/Tragedy
Time Line: Takes place between September and December of 2011 (beginning of season 12).
Warnings: Multiple character death, zombie apocalypse, etc.
Disclaimer: Own nothing, making no money.
Summary: [#3 in the Dead Man's Party Anthology of Horror] Excerpt: We ran out of food two days ago. Henry panicked. That’s [illegible] we lost him. We kept his body inside. Sara is guarding it with a gun to its head. I don’t think we [missing].
Author's Note: Dead Man's Party is a CSI version of Tales from the Crypt, or The X-Files. They consist of short horror/supernatural stories starring our favorite CSIs, and each one can be read individually and stand completely on its own. Upcoming titles include Mother Dearest (Catherine), and Underneath (Grissom).
Current installments include The Ghost in the Machine (Archie) and The Wendigo (Greg)
We Are The Dead
Summary: Excerpt: We ran out of food two days ago. Henry panicked. That’s [illegible] we lost him. We kept his body inside. Sara is guarding it with a gun to its head. I don’t think we [missing].
Introduction
By Gilbert Grissom
The pathogen that has now come to be known as SPE1, or scarlet death, began as a mutated strand of a common streptococcus bacterium. Despite popular belief suggested by its name, SPE1 is not a virus, however it was named for the antigens the disease produces. Documents suggest that patient zero was staff or a student at La Playa Elementary School in Clark County, Nevada. An outbreak of strep throat was announced to parents and families via e-mail and phone advising them to encourage hygienic habits like washing hands and not sharing food. Within a week, the first death attributed to scarlet fever in the state of Nevada since 1972 was reported. Two days after that, the CDC confirmed a scarlet fever epidemic in Arden, Nevada, seven miles southwest of Las Vegas. To the shock of many doctors, the bacteria proved resistant to penicillin treatment. Other antibiotics, including clindamycin and erythromycin, proved to be equally ineffective. And that’s when people started to panic. The victims had colonies of bacteria that did not just invade the throat, but reached further down into the respiratory and intestinal tract, growing and feeding on the host until death. Because of this, the disease was highly contagious, easily transmitted on the breath of the infected, but bacteria also spilling into saliva and blood cells of the victims as it spread throughout the body.
Las Vegas and surrounding areas were quarantined. No one was allowed in or out of the barricades set up by the US military. Basically, the US government condemned the entire city to death in a horribly inhumane way. Talk radio was abuzz with platitudes about Sodom and Gomorrah, and God smiting the wicked that resided in Sin City. But Las Vegas, like any city, is home to a number of different kinds of people. Children, parents, sisters, brothers, husbands… wives. And it turned out that about 10% of the population was immune to the bacteria. My wife seemed to be among those with the antibodies to fight off the infection before it spread. And yet, there was no way to know this, no way to prove it to the soldiers at the barricades. They called the immune the lucky ones. They were assured that if they could survive the quarantine period, they would be released. But survival was made exponentially more difficult when the dead began to move.
There was a swarm of panicked people rushing the barricades and electric fences that had been erected all around the city. They were shot dead by the military. Some were even hit with grenades. No one escaped. But when we saw the cause of their panic, we realized that deaths by the marines were preferable to what was waiting for them in the city. A legion of infected, screeching at the fleeing victims, stunned us all on the other side of the fence.
The bacteria does something that in all my years as a scientist, I have never seen any organism do. When it spreads to the brain, it ravages the prefrontal cortex, destroying any higher cognitive function, and hijacks the posterior frontal lobe, pressing down on areas and sending electrical signals to others that somehow reanimates the corpse. The damage to the prefrontal cortex also eliminates self-control and suppression of instinct, while the hypothalamus and pituitary glands swell. The bacteria operates the human body like we might drive a car. This new organism, for lack of a better term, operates on pure savage instinct and madness. I have observed the behavior of such a thing. It is alive, but it does not know why. It does not know who it used to be. All it knows is pain, and when an animal is in pain, it fights. Like a dog with rabies, such a creature would turn and bite its own best friend on pure instinct.
Worse than the sight, or even the threat of infection (most often transmitted through a bite, or accidentally ingesting infected blood), is the sounds. These creatures, once human, should not be alive, and yet they are. And it is very clear that they feel every scalded nerve, every bullet wound, every sliced vein. And they wail like forlorn banshees, their eerie calls like sirens blaring across all of Las Vegas, into the camps beyond. The more they hurt, the more they scream, and the more they scream, the more dangerous they become. Because the pain is an excellent motivator for aggression. Every night, I heard their cries, praying that I wasn’t hearing my wife among the cacophony. My friends. My family.
I should have been there. I should have been with my wife. But I was off, chasing intellectual pipe dreams in Europe, South America… It had been a long time since my ship had returned to port. I abandoned them there. And when they were quarantined, all I could do was study the pathogen, the course of the disease. All I could do was study it, and watch the city burn.
My name is Dr. Gilbert Grissom. I am a member of the Nevada Crisis Task Force, and I was the chief researcher, documenter and expert on SPE1. I was there when Las Vegas fell, when the hellish shrieks grew silent. Even the dead eventually run out of energy to survive. I was among the first to venture into the now silent ruins of Las Vegas in full hazmat gear. I searched for survivors, the ones we had promised would be released.
I did not find what I was looking for. Instead, I found these.
Dr. Gilbert Grissom, PHD
Director of Research
Nevada Crisis Task Force
1200 East Calvada Blvd
Pahrump, Nevada 89041
We Are The Dead - Fragments from the Las Vegas Epidemic
The following fragments were discovered near the Las Vegas Crime Lab in downtown. The full names of the people who wrote these are either unknown, or unreleased to protect the reputations of the dead.
Fragment #1: Napkin, blood drop in bottom left corner.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
[Illegible]
If ye break faith with us who die,
We will not sleep.
WE WILL NOT SLEEP.
Why won’t they just sleep?
Fragment #2: The back of a Suspect Description Report. Folded twice, and often. Slightly crumpled.
Catherine -
We’ve secured the morgue. Hauled out all the bodies. We’re letting in people who don’t show signs of symptoms to try and isolate them from the infected. Dr. Robbins is rationing the penicillin, because we aren’t sure how long it’ll last with all the demand. People don’t get it. They think it’s a vaccine. It only works at the first sign of symptoms, when the bacteria’s numbers are too small. There’s a small window. But they don’t get it. They want it now. Somehow, word got out that we still had some left. If you get this note, come down here and give them my name. They’ll let you in.
Jim
Fragment #3: A greeting card. The front half of the card has been torn off, leaving only a sentiment, and a scrawled note.
Morgan,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
You’re not getting older.
You’re just a little closer to death.
Just Kidding!
Greg
I’m sorry about your dad.
I wish you didn’t have to do that.
Fragment #4: A yellow post-it note.
Mom,
No school tomorrow. Bunch of kids have strep throat, so they closed it down ‘til further notice. I’ll be up in my room studying or sleeping. Say hi when you get home.
Love you,
Lindsey
Fragment #5: Torn scrap of printer paper.
Catherine -
Whatever you do, do not go to the morgue.
Jim
Fragment #6: Flight itinerary for round-trip tickets to Seattle from Las Vegas printed before the quarantine date. The following is scrawled across in black permanent marker.
WE SHOULD HAVE NEVER LEFT SEATTLE
Fragment #7: Tattered page, with burned holes, ripped halfway in the middle.
I don’t know who this is for. I think we’re at the end. We ran out of food two days ago. Henry panicked. That’s [illegible] we lost him. We kept his body inside. Sara is guarding it with a gun to its head. I don’t think we [missing].
Fragment #8: Manila folder. Two pens, one black, one blue.
Did you lock the doors?
Barricade them but forget to lock them? What am I, an idiot?
Humor me. I’m going through everything we might have done wrong. Might have forgotten.
I think we forgot to give Archie his medication. He’s not looking too good.
He’s not infected. That’s good enough for me.
He could compromise things for all of us.
I never thought you’d be the one to throw a fellow survivor under the bus.
I’m not throwing anyone anywhere, stop being a drama queen. I’m just saying we should find a way to calm him down. He’s already making too much noise. He could attract the infected.
Archie is fine. We’re all fine. We just need to stay silent for a little while longer. Soon, there will be too many of them screaming for them to hear anything.
Figures you’d be the one to keep your head in a zombie apocalypse.
I have considered this scenario many times. Only Wendy was here. And I saved her life. A lot.
I miss her too. But we can thank God she’s safe in Oregon, can’t we?
On the back of the folder, etched in red. The same handwriting as before.
We’re going to die here, Mandy.
Fragment #9: Yellow paper from a legal pad.
They come after you when they hear you. They can’t see so well anymore, but for some reason, their hearing is fucking great. Luckily, we can hear them first. The screams of the dead, they act like a warning siren. You have to stay quiet, stay still. That’s why we’re writing. If you have something to say, write it down. It’s better than risking a whisper. People are so scared, they can’t keep their voice to a whisper anyway. You make a sound, and you’ll betray us all.
Fragment #10: Bottom half piece of printer paper.
[missing] was there. Don’t know when or how he got there, or where he found all those bullets. Then I saw him shoot Russell in the head. Russell. It was weird. He was lying on the floor. Reminded me of the day Nick got back. Russell had played a corpse. Now he was one. Didn’t have time to process his death. As soon as he put down the others, Nick grabbed my arm, pulled me back, into the manager’s office.
“Are you infected?”
“No.”
“What are you doing out here, Greg?!”
“Food. We’re out of food. Said I’d get some. Where have you been?”
“The diner with Sara and Henry. You?”
“The lobby at the lab with Morgan and Ecklie. Well - Morgan.”
“Where did Russell come from?”
I explained how Russell was fine only a few minutes ago, in a manner of speaking. How I had come into the grocery store, found him with a stomach wound hunched over by an overturned shelf and the rancid meat. How I had talked to him. He had told me that he’d been hiding out with his family, and was here for the same reason I was. He had been lucid. He knew who he was. Then, I started to lie. I told Nick that he’d turned. Then all the infected had shown up. Then Nick.
I couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t tell him Russell wasn’t infected, just wounded after one of the shelves had fallen. It doesn’t matter. He would have died anyway. But I know it would matter to Nick. Shooting a dying person is a whole lot different than shooting a dead one. Especially to Nick.
“Have you heard from any of the others?”
I shook my head. He didn't ask again.
Fragment #11: Back of a coroner’s report form.
I’ve been bit. Can’t find a gun. Considering drinking formaldehyde. Whatever I do, or how I do it, doesn’t matter to you. All you need to know, is do not enter, for any reason. Leave this place. Only the dead live here.
Fragment #12: Yellow page from a legal pad.
Gil,
I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but I feel a desperate need to talk to you. I’ve killed more people today than I ever thought I would in a lifetime. With all the death we saw together in our jobs, I never believed murder could really be justified. One was a little boy. He was eight and he was crying. He tried to take me outside. He said he was looking for his mother. He said that he lost her at the pharmacy, where she was coughing. He said she couldn’t speak. I held him back. He fought me. He bit me.
No, he wasn’t infected. But we’re all so scared of bites these days. The gun went off on instinct. It sounds better that way. Like the gun had a mind of its own. But the truth is, I killed that little boy, Gil. I killed him, and he wasn’t even infected. If I were investigating a crime like this, I’d seek the death penalty for whoever dared to hurt that child. He just wanted to find his mom, Gil.
Maybe this is what I deserve, then. Even if I get out of this, I don’t know how I could live with myself. Nick says I’ve turned colder. But he admits that we all have. We have to be colder. I just need to know one thing. One thing, that’s all. I need to know that you still love me, even after all that I’ve done. Even if I can’t love myself.
Yours,
Sara
Fragment #13: Back of an envelope.
Morgan -
I found Nick and the others. They’re holed up in the diner across the street. Seems like a more stable location there. Why aren’t you answering the door?
Got bit. Not safe. Get out while you can.
How? You were never Can I do anything for you?
Leave, Greg. I can feel it starting.
I’m so sorry, Morgan.
Fragment #14: Yellow post-it note.
Lindsey, everything is going to be OK so long as you stay inside the house. Follow the rules. Don’t let anyone in except me. Unless I’m not me. And if I’m not me, you know what to do. I’m going to check out this Wal-Mart rumor. I shouldn’t be long. If I am, you know where the supplies are.
Mom
Fragment #15: Menu from a Mexican Restaurant.
Added menu item: #11 Brains FREE
Don’t get infected. Survive. At all costs.
Fragment #17: Yellow page from a legal pad.
Sara, you’re the toughest one here. Don’t fall apart now. I told Greg to keep you strong, and if anyone can it’s him. I’m sorry about Henry, and everyone else that you’ve lost, and I’m sorry about me. But if I’m dead anyway, then I’m going out fighting. Sara, I need to trust that you’ll shoot me just before I turn. But before you do, let me take out as many of those fuckers as I possibly can to keep them away from you guys. I need to trust that you’ll do this for me. Can I trust you?
You can always trust me, Nick.
That’s my girl.
Fragment #18: A sheet of water-stained printer paper.
I wasn’t bit. I just told you that so you wouldn’t have to see me like this. I hated him my whole life, but when I had to kill him, [illegible] all the times we played together when I was a kid… I’m not strong enough for this. I never was.
I’m sorry I lied to you, Greg.
Fragment #19: Back of a printout of lab results. Torn.
Hodges, they’re at the door. I’ve never seen anything so desperate to get in. What happens when they break through the barricade?
Fragment #20: A piece of lined paper, with tape at the top.
Dad - What happened to you? You went to find food and never came back. If you do ever come here, we’re gone. We heard there’s a safe house at the Wal-Mart on Second Street. They have food there. Come meet us. Mom misses you.
Charlie
Fragment #21: Torn yellow page from a legal pad.
He’s not fine, Sara. We were attacked on our way back here. One jumped on Nick’s back and started tearing pieces out of his shoulder. I knocked it off, but the damage was already done. Don’t let him tell you he’s fine.
Fragment #22: Graffiti on a cross walk sign.
STATE LAW YIELD TO ZOMBIES RUN THEM THE FUCK OVER IN THE CROSSWALK.
Fragment #23: Paper from a “To-Do List” Notepad
Lindsey, remember these rules:
Rule 1) Let no one in the house, even if you knew them. We can’t risk infection.
Rule 2) If someone gets in, use the baseball bat if you can. If you have to, use the gun.
Rule 3) Ration the food and supplies. Do not eat more than you need.
Rule 4) Sleep in the office. It’s the only room in the house without windows.
Rule 5) Do not make a sound.
Rule 6) Try not to leave the house, unless it’s been compromised. If you need something, get me.
Rule 6) WALMART IS A LIE. DO NOT GO TO WALMART. THEY WILL SHOOT YOU ON SIGHT, AS IF YOU WERE ALREADY INFECTED.
Fragment #24: Small page torn from a journal.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take
And if I die from Scarlet Death
I pray the Lord should stop my breath
Before the death turn back to life
And I’m become the septic knife
“I am become Death, the Destroyer of worlds.”
Fragment #25: Yellow page from a legal pad.
Gil,
The diner is gone. I had to burn it. I ran out of bullets. On our way out, Greg got trapped. He begged me to shoot him. I had no bullets.
The diner burned down. Greg was inside. So were the corpses of those that died before him. Henry and Nick. I know that for a while, Hodges, Mandy and Archie had managed to hide in the copy room in the lab, and Morgan in the lobby, but the infected have long since infested that whole place. I don’t think the others made it out before it did. I’m going to burn that next. Nick said he shot D.B. Russell in the grocery store. Greg said Morgan killed Ecklie. I don’t know what happened to Jim and Al. They were in the morgue. It was one of the first to fall. I guess they’re dead by now, or at least I hope they are. Catherine is the only one that might make it. I don’t know what happened to her after the chaos all started. I hope she finds you. I hope she makes it out, when the quarantine is over. I hope she makes it out, like you promised us.
It’s too late for me. No, I won’t kill myself. I’m out of bullets. But I know I’m going to die. We’ll just see what happens. Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll get to see you again one day, too.
Yours always,
Sara
Fragment #26: A piece of lined paper.
They never tell you what’s in the eyes as they turn. Many die before it happens, but some transition disturbingly smoothly from dying to infected. I held Lindsey in my arms as I watched her die. She was crying. I had told her not to open the door. I had written it down. She knew not to open the door, but she must have had a reason. Whatever it was, I won’t know it. I won’t ever know it.
This is my confession. I had to tell someone. There’s no one left to tell. My confession is, I didn’t kill her. Not before she turned. Of everything else I’ve had to do to keep my family safe, I could not put a bullet in my daughter’s head. Instead, I cradled her, like the day she was born. I whispered lullabies and rocked her to sleep. I told her I loved her. She told me she was scared. I sang, and she listened. Her eyes, something changed. They didn’t exactly glaze over or anything, they just stopped seeing. I’ve seen people die before. This was different. Because though the eyes stopped seeing, Lindsey was still breathing. Her breath rattled in her chest. She wasn’t crying anymore. She pawed at my face like an animal, unsure of itself. And then she began that telltale wail, thrashing in pain. She snapped at me. Attacked. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming, but I had been in denial.
I should have shot her when I had the chance. Should have given her a peaceful death. Instead, I had to bash my own daughter’s head in with a baseball bat.
What’s left for me here, in this town? What will happen to us, those who are still alive? Is there even anyone else? Or am I it? What happened to my friends? Nick, Sara, D.B., Morgan, Greg, Jim and Al and so many countless other people who lived and laughed beside me, who I honestly and perhaps naively believed would never leave me? The city is silent, except for their haunting screams. I see no movement, unless it’s one of them, slowly but viciously meandering down the streets like an escaped mental patient. They walk with jerky movements. As if they know that the body is not their own. They’re puppets of the disease. And I might very well be one of them soon.
I’ve already decided that I’ll stay. I’m going to stay right here, in the house where my daughter died. I’m going to stay here and wait, to see another sunrise. Or maybe starve to death. Whatever comes first.
If anyone reads this, know that I loved my family with everything that I had, and I hated that tiny infuriating microorganism that took them all away. Fuck you, SPE1, fuck you hard. I know you will shrivel up and go the way of Smallpox. Because even if I don’t survive this, the human race will own your ass like a prison bitch and you will be a blip in history. Just another win for humanity.
Yes. You’ll see. They will still beat you. Even if you beat me.
Author: smilesinc aka WitchGirl
Fandom: CSI
Characters: ALL
Pairings: Anything Canon (GSR)
Rating: R
Genre: Supernatural/Horror/Tragedy
Time Line: Takes place between September and December of 2011 (beginning of season 12).
Warnings: Multiple character death, zombie apocalypse, etc.
Disclaimer: Own nothing, making no money.
Summary: [#3 in the Dead Man's Party Anthology of Horror] Excerpt: We ran out of food two days ago. Henry panicked. That’s [illegible] we lost him. We kept his body inside. Sara is guarding it with a gun to its head. I don’t think we [missing].
Author's Note: Dead Man's Party is a CSI version of Tales from the Crypt, or The X-Files. They consist of short horror/supernatural stories starring our favorite CSIs, and each one can be read individually and stand completely on its own. Upcoming titles include Mother Dearest (Catherine), and Underneath (Grissom).
Current installments include The Ghost in the Machine (Archie) and The Wendigo (Greg)
We Are The Dead
Summary: Excerpt: We ran out of food two days ago. Henry panicked. That’s [illegible] we lost him. We kept his body inside. Sara is guarding it with a gun to its head. I don’t think we [missing].
Introduction
By Gilbert Grissom
The pathogen that has now come to be known as SPE1, or scarlet death, began as a mutated strand of a common streptococcus bacterium. Despite popular belief suggested by its name, SPE1 is not a virus, however it was named for the antigens the disease produces. Documents suggest that patient zero was staff or a student at La Playa Elementary School in Clark County, Nevada. An outbreak of strep throat was announced to parents and families via e-mail and phone advising them to encourage hygienic habits like washing hands and not sharing food. Within a week, the first death attributed to scarlet fever in the state of Nevada since 1972 was reported. Two days after that, the CDC confirmed a scarlet fever epidemic in Arden, Nevada, seven miles southwest of Las Vegas. To the shock of many doctors, the bacteria proved resistant to penicillin treatment. Other antibiotics, including clindamycin and erythromycin, proved to be equally ineffective. And that’s when people started to panic. The victims had colonies of bacteria that did not just invade the throat, but reached further down into the respiratory and intestinal tract, growing and feeding on the host until death. Because of this, the disease was highly contagious, easily transmitted on the breath of the infected, but bacteria also spilling into saliva and blood cells of the victims as it spread throughout the body.
Las Vegas and surrounding areas were quarantined. No one was allowed in or out of the barricades set up by the US military. Basically, the US government condemned the entire city to death in a horribly inhumane way. Talk radio was abuzz with platitudes about Sodom and Gomorrah, and God smiting the wicked that resided in Sin City. But Las Vegas, like any city, is home to a number of different kinds of people. Children, parents, sisters, brothers, husbands… wives. And it turned out that about 10% of the population was immune to the bacteria. My wife seemed to be among those with the antibodies to fight off the infection before it spread. And yet, there was no way to know this, no way to prove it to the soldiers at the barricades. They called the immune the lucky ones. They were assured that if they could survive the quarantine period, they would be released. But survival was made exponentially more difficult when the dead began to move.
There was a swarm of panicked people rushing the barricades and electric fences that had been erected all around the city. They were shot dead by the military. Some were even hit with grenades. No one escaped. But when we saw the cause of their panic, we realized that deaths by the marines were preferable to what was waiting for them in the city. A legion of infected, screeching at the fleeing victims, stunned us all on the other side of the fence.
The bacteria does something that in all my years as a scientist, I have never seen any organism do. When it spreads to the brain, it ravages the prefrontal cortex, destroying any higher cognitive function, and hijacks the posterior frontal lobe, pressing down on areas and sending electrical signals to others that somehow reanimates the corpse. The damage to the prefrontal cortex also eliminates self-control and suppression of instinct, while the hypothalamus and pituitary glands swell. The bacteria operates the human body like we might drive a car. This new organism, for lack of a better term, operates on pure savage instinct and madness. I have observed the behavior of such a thing. It is alive, but it does not know why. It does not know who it used to be. All it knows is pain, and when an animal is in pain, it fights. Like a dog with rabies, such a creature would turn and bite its own best friend on pure instinct.
Worse than the sight, or even the threat of infection (most often transmitted through a bite, or accidentally ingesting infected blood), is the sounds. These creatures, once human, should not be alive, and yet they are. And it is very clear that they feel every scalded nerve, every bullet wound, every sliced vein. And they wail like forlorn banshees, their eerie calls like sirens blaring across all of Las Vegas, into the camps beyond. The more they hurt, the more they scream, and the more they scream, the more dangerous they become. Because the pain is an excellent motivator for aggression. Every night, I heard their cries, praying that I wasn’t hearing my wife among the cacophony. My friends. My family.
I should have been there. I should have been with my wife. But I was off, chasing intellectual pipe dreams in Europe, South America… It had been a long time since my ship had returned to port. I abandoned them there. And when they were quarantined, all I could do was study the pathogen, the course of the disease. All I could do was study it, and watch the city burn.
My name is Dr. Gilbert Grissom. I am a member of the Nevada Crisis Task Force, and I was the chief researcher, documenter and expert on SPE1. I was there when Las Vegas fell, when the hellish shrieks grew silent. Even the dead eventually run out of energy to survive. I was among the first to venture into the now silent ruins of Las Vegas in full hazmat gear. I searched for survivors, the ones we had promised would be released.
I did not find what I was looking for. Instead, I found these.
Dr. Gilbert Grissom, PHD
Director of Research
Nevada Crisis Task Force
1200 East Calvada Blvd
Pahrump, Nevada 89041
We Are The Dead - Fragments from the Las Vegas Epidemic
The following fragments were discovered near the Las Vegas Crime Lab in downtown. The full names of the people who wrote these are either unknown, or unreleased to protect the reputations of the dead.
Fragment #1: Napkin, blood drop in bottom left corner.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
[Illegible]
If ye break faith with us who die,
We will not sleep.
WE WILL NOT SLEEP.
Why won’t they just sleep?
Fragment #2: The back of a Suspect Description Report. Folded twice, and often. Slightly crumpled.
Catherine -
We’ve secured the morgue. Hauled out all the bodies. We’re letting in people who don’t show signs of symptoms to try and isolate them from the infected. Dr. Robbins is rationing the penicillin, because we aren’t sure how long it’ll last with all the demand. People don’t get it. They think it’s a vaccine. It only works at the first sign of symptoms, when the bacteria’s numbers are too small. There’s a small window. But they don’t get it. They want it now. Somehow, word got out that we still had some left. If you get this note, come down here and give them my name. They’ll let you in.
Jim
Fragment #3: A greeting card. The front half of the card has been torn off, leaving only a sentiment, and a scrawled note.
Morgan,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
You’re not getting older.
You’re just a little closer to death.
Just Kidding!
Greg
I’m sorry about your dad.
I wish you didn’t have to do that.
Fragment #4: A yellow post-it note.
Mom,
No school tomorrow. Bunch of kids have strep throat, so they closed it down ‘til further notice. I’ll be up in my room studying or sleeping. Say hi when you get home.
Love you,
Lindsey
Fragment #5: Torn scrap of printer paper.
Catherine -
Whatever you do, do not go to the morgue.
Jim
Fragment #6: Flight itinerary for round-trip tickets to Seattle from Las Vegas printed before the quarantine date. The following is scrawled across in black permanent marker.
WE SHOULD HAVE NEVER LEFT SEATTLE
Fragment #7: Tattered page, with burned holes, ripped halfway in the middle.
I don’t know who this is for. I think we’re at the end. We ran out of food two days ago. Henry panicked. That’s [illegible] we lost him. We kept his body inside. Sara is guarding it with a gun to its head. I don’t think we [missing].
Fragment #8: Manila folder. Two pens, one black, one blue.
Did you lock the doors?
Barricade them but forget to lock them? What am I, an idiot?
Humor me. I’m going through everything we might have done wrong. Might have forgotten.
I think we forgot to give Archie his medication. He’s not looking too good.
He’s not infected. That’s good enough for me.
He could compromise things for all of us.
I never thought you’d be the one to throw a fellow survivor under the bus.
I’m not throwing anyone anywhere, stop being a drama queen. I’m just saying we should find a way to calm him down. He’s already making too much noise. He could attract the infected.
Archie is fine. We’re all fine. We just need to stay silent for a little while longer. Soon, there will be too many of them screaming for them to hear anything.
Figures you’d be the one to keep your head in a zombie apocalypse.
I have considered this scenario many times. Only Wendy was here. And I saved her life. A lot.
I miss her too. But we can thank God she’s safe in Oregon, can’t we?
On the back of the folder, etched in red. The same handwriting as before.
We’re going to die here, Mandy.
Fragment #9: Yellow paper from a legal pad.
They come after you when they hear you. They can’t see so well anymore, but for some reason, their hearing is fucking great. Luckily, we can hear them first. The screams of the dead, they act like a warning siren. You have to stay quiet, stay still. That’s why we’re writing. If you have something to say, write it down. It’s better than risking a whisper. People are so scared, they can’t keep their voice to a whisper anyway. You make a sound, and you’ll betray us all.
Fragment #10: Bottom half piece of printer paper.
[missing] was there. Don’t know when or how he got there, or where he found all those bullets. Then I saw him shoot Russell in the head. Russell. It was weird. He was lying on the floor. Reminded me of the day Nick got back. Russell had played a corpse. Now he was one. Didn’t have time to process his death. As soon as he put down the others, Nick grabbed my arm, pulled me back, into the manager’s office.
“Are you infected?”
“No.”
“What are you doing out here, Greg?!”
“Food. We’re out of food. Said I’d get some. Where have you been?”
“The diner with Sara and Henry. You?”
“The lobby at the lab with Morgan and Ecklie. Well - Morgan.”
“Where did Russell come from?”
I explained how Russell was fine only a few minutes ago, in a manner of speaking. How I had come into the grocery store, found him with a stomach wound hunched over by an overturned shelf and the rancid meat. How I had talked to him. He had told me that he’d been hiding out with his family, and was here for the same reason I was. He had been lucid. He knew who he was. Then, I started to lie. I told Nick that he’d turned. Then all the infected had shown up. Then Nick.
I couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t tell him Russell wasn’t infected, just wounded after one of the shelves had fallen. It doesn’t matter. He would have died anyway. But I know it would matter to Nick. Shooting a dying person is a whole lot different than shooting a dead one. Especially to Nick.
“Have you heard from any of the others?”
I shook my head. He didn't ask again.
Fragment #11: Back of a coroner’s report form.
I’ve been bit. Can’t find a gun. Considering drinking formaldehyde. Whatever I do, or how I do it, doesn’t matter to you. All you need to know, is do not enter, for any reason. Leave this place. Only the dead live here.
Fragment #12: Yellow page from a legal pad.
Gil,
I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but I feel a desperate need to talk to you. I’ve killed more people today than I ever thought I would in a lifetime. With all the death we saw together in our jobs, I never believed murder could really be justified. One was a little boy. He was eight and he was crying. He tried to take me outside. He said he was looking for his mother. He said that he lost her at the pharmacy, where she was coughing. He said she couldn’t speak. I held him back. He fought me. He bit me.
No, he wasn’t infected. But we’re all so scared of bites these days. The gun went off on instinct. It sounds better that way. Like the gun had a mind of its own. But the truth is, I killed that little boy, Gil. I killed him, and he wasn’t even infected. If I were investigating a crime like this, I’d seek the death penalty for whoever dared to hurt that child. He just wanted to find his mom, Gil.
Maybe this is what I deserve, then. Even if I get out of this, I don’t know how I could live with myself. Nick says I’ve turned colder. But he admits that we all have. We have to be colder. I just need to know one thing. One thing, that’s all. I need to know that you still love me, even after all that I’ve done. Even if I can’t love myself.
Yours,
Sara
Fragment #13: Back of an envelope.
Morgan -
I found Nick and the others. They’re holed up in the diner across the street. Seems like a more stable location there. Why aren’t you answering the door?
Got bit. Not safe. Get out while you can.
How? You were never Can I do anything for you?
Leave, Greg. I can feel it starting.
I’m so sorry, Morgan.
Fragment #14: Yellow post-it note.
Lindsey, everything is going to be OK so long as you stay inside the house. Follow the rules. Don’t let anyone in except me. Unless I’m not me. And if I’m not me, you know what to do. I’m going to check out this Wal-Mart rumor. I shouldn’t be long. If I am, you know where the supplies are.
Mom
Fragment #15: Menu from a Mexican Restaurant.
Added menu item: #11 Brains FREE
Don’t get infected. Survive. At all costs.
Fragment #17: Yellow page from a legal pad.
Sara, you’re the toughest one here. Don’t fall apart now. I told Greg to keep you strong, and if anyone can it’s him. I’m sorry about Henry, and everyone else that you’ve lost, and I’m sorry about me. But if I’m dead anyway, then I’m going out fighting. Sara, I need to trust that you’ll shoot me just before I turn. But before you do, let me take out as many of those fuckers as I possibly can to keep them away from you guys. I need to trust that you’ll do this for me. Can I trust you?
You can always trust me, Nick.
That’s my girl.
Fragment #18: A sheet of water-stained printer paper.
I wasn’t bit. I just told you that so you wouldn’t have to see me like this. I hated him my whole life, but when I had to kill him, [illegible] all the times we played together when I was a kid… I’m not strong enough for this. I never was.
I’m sorry I lied to you, Greg.
Fragment #19: Back of a printout of lab results. Torn.
Hodges, they’re at the door. I’ve never seen anything so desperate to get in. What happens when they break through the barricade?
Fragment #20: A piece of lined paper, with tape at the top.
Dad - What happened to you? You went to find food and never came back. If you do ever come here, we’re gone. We heard there’s a safe house at the Wal-Mart on Second Street. They have food there. Come meet us. Mom misses you.
Charlie
Fragment #21: Torn yellow page from a legal pad.
He’s not fine, Sara. We were attacked on our way back here. One jumped on Nick’s back and started tearing pieces out of his shoulder. I knocked it off, but the damage was already done. Don’t let him tell you he’s fine.
Fragment #22: Graffiti on a cross walk sign.
STATE LAW YIELD TO ZOMBIES RUN THEM THE FUCK OVER IN THE CROSSWALK.
Fragment #23: Paper from a “To-Do List” Notepad
Lindsey, remember these rules:
Rule 1) Let no one in the house, even if you knew them. We can’t risk infection.
Rule 2) If someone gets in, use the baseball bat if you can. If you have to, use the gun.
Rule 3) Ration the food and supplies. Do not eat more than you need.
Rule 4) Sleep in the office. It’s the only room in the house without windows.
Rule 5) Do not make a sound.
Rule 6) Try not to leave the house, unless it’s been compromised. If you need something, get me.
Rule 6) WALMART IS A LIE. DO NOT GO TO WALMART. THEY WILL SHOOT YOU ON SIGHT, AS IF YOU WERE ALREADY INFECTED.
Fragment #24: Small page torn from a journal.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take
And if I die from Scarlet Death
I pray the Lord should stop my breath
Before the death turn back to life
And I’m become the septic knife
“I am become Death, the Destroyer of worlds.”
Fragment #25: Yellow page from a legal pad.
Gil,
The diner is gone. I had to burn it. I ran out of bullets. On our way out, Greg got trapped. He begged me to shoot him. I had no bullets.
The diner burned down. Greg was inside. So were the corpses of those that died before him. Henry and Nick. I know that for a while, Hodges, Mandy and Archie had managed to hide in the copy room in the lab, and Morgan in the lobby, but the infected have long since infested that whole place. I don’t think the others made it out before it did. I’m going to burn that next. Nick said he shot D.B. Russell in the grocery store. Greg said Morgan killed Ecklie. I don’t know what happened to Jim and Al. They were in the morgue. It was one of the first to fall. I guess they’re dead by now, or at least I hope they are. Catherine is the only one that might make it. I don’t know what happened to her after the chaos all started. I hope she finds you. I hope she makes it out, when the quarantine is over. I hope she makes it out, like you promised us.
It’s too late for me. No, I won’t kill myself. I’m out of bullets. But I know I’m going to die. We’ll just see what happens. Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll get to see you again one day, too.
Yours always,
Sara
Fragment #26: A piece of lined paper.
They never tell you what’s in the eyes as they turn. Many die before it happens, but some transition disturbingly smoothly from dying to infected. I held Lindsey in my arms as I watched her die. She was crying. I had told her not to open the door. I had written it down. She knew not to open the door, but she must have had a reason. Whatever it was, I won’t know it. I won’t ever know it.
This is my confession. I had to tell someone. There’s no one left to tell. My confession is, I didn’t kill her. Not before she turned. Of everything else I’ve had to do to keep my family safe, I could not put a bullet in my daughter’s head. Instead, I cradled her, like the day she was born. I whispered lullabies and rocked her to sleep. I told her I loved her. She told me she was scared. I sang, and she listened. Her eyes, something changed. They didn’t exactly glaze over or anything, they just stopped seeing. I’ve seen people die before. This was different. Because though the eyes stopped seeing, Lindsey was still breathing. Her breath rattled in her chest. She wasn’t crying anymore. She pawed at my face like an animal, unsure of itself. And then she began that telltale wail, thrashing in pain. She snapped at me. Attacked. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming, but I had been in denial.
I should have shot her when I had the chance. Should have given her a peaceful death. Instead, I had to bash my own daughter’s head in with a baseball bat.
What’s left for me here, in this town? What will happen to us, those who are still alive? Is there even anyone else? Or am I it? What happened to my friends? Nick, Sara, D.B., Morgan, Greg, Jim and Al and so many countless other people who lived and laughed beside me, who I honestly and perhaps naively believed would never leave me? The city is silent, except for their haunting screams. I see no movement, unless it’s one of them, slowly but viciously meandering down the streets like an escaped mental patient. They walk with jerky movements. As if they know that the body is not their own. They’re puppets of the disease. And I might very well be one of them soon.
I’ve already decided that I’ll stay. I’m going to stay right here, in the house where my daughter died. I’m going to stay here and wait, to see another sunrise. Or maybe starve to death. Whatever comes first.
If anyone reads this, know that I loved my family with everything that I had, and I hated that tiny infuriating microorganism that took them all away. Fuck you, SPE1, fuck you hard. I know you will shrivel up and go the way of Smallpox. Because even if I don’t survive this, the human race will own your ass like a prison bitch and you will be a blip in history. Just another win for humanity.
Yes. You’ll see. They will still beat you. Even if you beat me.