John Doe was a normal guy. Until his girlfriend, Alex, became a zombie.
Now he's trying to protect her from the authorities, who are trying to exterminate any zombies they can.
There was never a recorded start of the disease, so to speak. I mean, obviously there were the first to go, but nobody ever knew what caused the first mutations.
People started aching almost everywhere on their bodies, and before long, their respiration and circulation became slower, eventually causing the inevitable. Death claimed only a handful at first, but many more quickly fell to the disease. But the cause of the spread quickly became evident. Although nobody knew how the first victims caught the disease, it was apparent that the 'second wave', as it was called, was caused by infection by bite.
And, as time went by, more and more unlucky men and women were unable to outrun the virus ... and its hosts.
The virus? It was named the Z-Virus.
The hosts? They were named zombies. Because it seemed that that's what they were reduced to. Walking dead. Rotting but living. Passing their disease from one to another. Before long, most of the world had their hands full dealing with 'pest control'. Extermination was the only option. No cure, no hope, no explanation.
It seemed the zombie apocalypse was upon us all.
Me? Well, I suppose this is where I come in. John Doe. Well, that's not my real name, just one I'm using as a guise. If anybody finds these documents, then I'm screwed, and what I've been fighting for will be forfeit.
A week ago, my girlfriend, Alex, came home from a night out. I don't mind that. We're not the kind of couple that has to do everything together. We enjoy going out together, but we both like our space. Neither of us have a problem with the other one going out or staying in when the other is doing the other. If you catch my drift.
Anyway, she wasn't feeling all that well, but she had a few shots in her, and so she hit the sack almost instantly. She was moving very slowly at the time, but this was to be expected.
Surprisingly, the symptoms of intoxication and Z-Virus infection aren't too different. As the morning rolled around, she wasn't getting up.
Yeah, she was dead. Not a big deal now. I mean, at the time I was terrified. I assumed alcohol poisoning.
Twenty minutes later, she sat down with me at the kitchen table. I'll be honest, a little urine came out. I'm not very good with descriptions, and I was never the best English student, so that's pretty much what this will all be. No detailed metaphorical descriptions. Just telling it like it is.
I had heard about this. And unfortunately, it had hit home.
My girlfriend was a zombie.