Introductions, please.

What a pleasant surprise. I finally find a computer that actually works, the first one for at least 100 miles, and it just happens to have a connection the world. I'm shocked that the internet is even still active. When all the world burns down around you, you kind of expect all human achievements fall with it. Here's to this monument of human perseverance.

My name is Sean Brown, but please, call me by my handle, Himoto. After the first horrific outbreak near my home, my family and I fled to the nearest place we thought safe: Norfolk Naval Station, but, being civilians, we were turned away and left to be consumed by the shambling horde. Over the next few weeks, we ran from shelter to shelter, home to home, or to anything that seemed strong enough to preserve our lives just a few more hours.

One of our shelters, however, was not as secure as it seemingly promised. It was just a two story home tucked into some small borough, and with dark approaching quickly, we needed to stop for rest and to hide from them, who seemed to have their senses bolstered at night. I don't know exactly what happened next. It was too dark inside, and all I could hear was shuffling of feet and screams of my family. I am ashamed to say this, but I ran for my life. I abandoned everyone I loved, and ran... God have mercy on my soul...

Grief and shame gripped my heart. Over the next few weeks, I would search for more of those ghouls, hoping I could end my miserable existence by another's hands. Every time I found one, though, I could never bring myself to leave my hole, to bring myself to the death I deserved. I didn't realize it at the time, but this allowed me a great opportunity. I was able to study how the zombies worked. Their behavior when hunting, their behavior when killing. Their behavior when feeding. I grew fascinated by them. I couldn't resist seeking them out when I heard their moans. Always another chance to watch how they function.

Whenever I was fortunate enough, I would happen upon other survivors. I would trade my knowledge and tactics of zombie behavior for just a night's sound sleep. It was with one of these groups that I did my most profound research. I found them just after a small skirmish had occurred with about twenty ghouls. Not very many, but they almost overwhelmed the tiny band of six survivors, and there were... casualties. One of them had been bitten during the fight. It was a small wound, considering, just a little nip on his forearm. But we all knew what it meant. He was bound, gagged, and left to die in a nearby shed. Even though no one was allowed to enter the shed by command of whom I guessed to be the leader, I managed to persuade them into letting me observe the changes.

Now, before you judge me, asking, Why didn’t you help him? Wasn’t it worth trying to save his life?, we all know there is no recovery from this. Not with our limited resources. I sat by his makeshift cot for the next seventeen hours and watched as he slowly succumbed to his illness. I made careful, and I think important, observations of him as he began to lose all feeling in his limbs, as his fever spiked to over 105 degrees, as dementia set in, and as he finally slipped into a coma and died. But even after his death, I knew it wasn’t over. I waited over his corpse for four more hours, and almost gave up my careful watch when I saw his eyes open from his eternal sleep.

After my observation was complete, I personally exterminated it. But with the end of this poor man’s life came the rebirth of my own. I knew what I could do to help humanity. I needed to get my notes and research out to all remaining humans. But I couldn’t really figure out how. So, I started with what I always knew best: I found a computer in a house that still had gas in its generator, and I started typing up my notes. Now that I had my research secure in a flash drive that I always keep on my person, I had to find a way to get it out there. Some way to get my knowledge to the outside world.

And that brings us up to here, after wandering for a hundred miles, maybe more, and trying computer after computer after computer, I finally manage to sign on. Though I have my research on me now, it’s not complete. And I feel it may be more important to tell my story now while I still can. All this typing has made too much noise, and I’m running out of juice from the muscle-powered generator, so I need to go for now. I don’t know how long until I can get back onto the internet, but if you don’t hear from me for a few months, go north, near Chicago. There’s a naval station there that I’m going to, hoping they haven’t succumbed to this disaster, and hoping they can provide a safe haven from which I can conduct my research. If you don’t hear from me, please try to recover my research. I wear a pendent of the ace of spades on a sturdy chain around my neck. Find my still or reanimated corpse and take the small flash drive I keep on a bright blue clip on my belt loop. Make sure the world gets my information.