Though I wake up to anther perfect day, weather-wise anyway, I know nothing is normal, I can’t even remember what normality feels like. Ever since the first outbreaks, nothing has been normal. It’s panic on a global scale, and as usual the government is doing nothing to help. I joined the marines in the hope of helping promote peace throughout the world, but now it’ll never happen. I joined to try to affect peace in those countries that needed it most, tried to make a difference, and had belief in the government, believed their lies. Now I’m here, staring death in the face, and the government has abandoned us. I still remember the day we found out.

My C.O had just gathered the troops in our camp, as he usually would. But this time was different. We were to abandon the search for “him”, and return home. Our country needed us, as did our families. We had no fucking idea what was going on, but as usual, Major Richards just smiled his way through it. We were to be withdrawn. In any other circumstance, we would be happy, whooping and cheering as if we had already won the war, but in reality, it had barely begun.
We had known something was going on back home. In our relative’s letters there was a sense of urgency and unwillingness to openly talk. We had all begun to wonder what was going on. Maybe a media blackout was in effect. Some people made reference to a series of so-called “cannibalistic” murders that had been sweeping the country, and even here, in the scorched desert we had seen some things that we could not explain. Some times we’d find the remains of animals that looked as though a human had been eating them, but we’d disregard it as normal. Ever since the first bombing raids, some of the homeless had been forced to feast upon anything they could lay their grubby hands on, live animals included.

It wasn’t until we arrived home until we finally realised the seriousness of the situation. I remember thinking on the plane over about these murders and the potential threat of a media blackout, censorship and all the rest of the paranoia that one would usually get after a ling stint away from home. We touched down and were immediately re-assigned. It seemed as though a plague had swept through the population. Death and decay were apparently rife, the dead returning to life. Sounds impossible I know, but this was serious shit. We had to protect the living. Without even being allowed to see our loved ones, we were right back on a plane.

Flying over the Rockies, We knew something was seriously up. So many refugees desperate for somewhere to go. We could even see the caravan, the long snake of despair, thousands, possible millions of people weaving in and out of the foothills. Again Major Richards had a smile on his face as he began to tell us. Anywhere past the Rockies was a giant necropolis. A dead zone. How the fuck could this have happened and we knew so little about it. I suppose that is what happens when segregated from humanity on some stupid S&D, where we knew so little about the target. We were the last bastion of humanity, the last hope for a safe tomorrow. What we didn’t know was the actual extent of this “plague”

The only information that we had been given was a civilian handbook on the way over and a rough map of the ‘former’ USA, and the huge grey zone which dominated the map belonged to them. “The Zombie Survival Guide” was the name of the handbook. Most of the guys in the squad thought it was a work of fiction at first, but now, evidently not I guess. We barely had time to read it, and even then, I couldn’t see how it was going to help us, and a lot of good it was going to do. Yeah, so now we knew to shoot for the head, the only means of terminating the target, but not even the most trained sharp-shooter could pull that off 100% of the time. Upon landing we were thrust straight into action. They had heard us from miles away and were beginning to flock to our L.Z.