Date: January 19,2019
Location: Wales, Alaska
Voiceless: Benjamin Finnic
Selflessness was the last thing anyone would call me. I was a selfish prick. But I was the only one in the group that was infected. So a decision was made that I would be the one to try to make it to the radio tower to send out a message that communications were down and that the town was lost.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
It was in the middle of the night when I woke up to screams and gunshot sounds. It was an absolute shitshow when I was able to get out of the house. For Christ's sake, I saw one of my neighbors be tackled to the ground and mauled to death. It was too dark to see what it was that tackled my neighbor; it was some medium-sized animal on all fours. I proceeded to run back into my house, go to the gun safe, and take out my hunting rifle.
By the time I went back to check on the body, it was gone, with just a pool of blood left. As I stood there, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Whatever was out there wasn't playing games. It was kill or be killed. And from the looks of it, it seemed to be winning. Panic gripped me as I realized the gravity of the situation.
I had to make a decision: stay and wait it out, hoping for rescue, or take matters into my own hands. The thought of leaving my safety behind and venturing into the unknown filled me with dread, but I knew it was the only way to ensure any chance of survival for myself and possibly others.
With trembling hands, I shouldered my rifle and prepared to leave. I had no idea what awaited me out there in the darkness, but I couldn't afford to let fear paralyze me. As I stepped outside, the silence was shattered by distant screams and the occasional howl of what sounded like some twisted creature.
The only place that I could think of making it to, where I could get some information and reach another person, was the community center in our small town. I didn't want to attract other things, so I decided that I would walk my way there, trying to keep as low a profile as I could. And damn was I close to making it. That's when I heard the bush next to me making some noise, and before I could turn my head and lift my rifle, I was knocked on my ass with a dog biting my hand.
Like any self-respecting man, I screamed and started to punch it in the face. When that didn't work, I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, a heavy rock, and whacked it a couple of times before it went limp. I grabbed my rifle and decided that there was no point in hiding anymore. I had blood all over me and had made enough noise to attract whatever these things were.
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As I reached the community center, I saw a couple of people also slowly making their way to it. But something was off with these people. They walked as if they were injured but made no effort to support one another or address anyone near them. That's when I kicked a can that was on the ground. The group turned around as one and started to shuffle their way towards me, and I didn't give them a chance to get near me; I had already been attacked once. I lifted my rifle up and started to fire round after round. It took me a few shots to realize it had no effect unless it was a headshot.
Fucking zombies, they're fucking zombies... “I WAS BITTEN BY A GODDAMN ZOMBIE DOG" was what I wanted to scream, but there was no point. I was a dead man walking; might as well kill as many as possible.
I finally reached the community center and killed 2 more zombies trying to get in. I knocked on the door, saying, “It's Ben, open up.” The one who opened the door was John, who was actually a pretty nice guy. He let me in and quickly closed and locked the door behind me. There were 10 other people inside, discussing what was happening.
Things got messy as people started to argue about what was happening and what to do. That's when I just screamed, “They’re ZOMBIES,” and the room fell silent for a few seconds before I was bombarded with questions. I simply recounted what happened on my way here. Everyone took a minute to realize the implication that I was bitten and was most likely going to become one of the zombies.
I told them that I knew I was already dead, but they were still infection-free. John, the bastard from henceforth, asked me if it would be possible for me to make it to the radio tower that was located in the airport because no one could get a signal on their phones. I said I could try, but there would be no guarantee that I would be able to last that long because I did not know how quickly one turned or that I wouldn't be attacked by another zombie and survive.
Long story short, I made it to the tower after killing more zombies. I thought that was the end of it, but it couldn’t be that easy. On the tarmac, I saw a plane on fire with burning zombies still walking. I leave this voice recording behind because my hand is fucked up, and frankly, I want people to know that there was a person behind that broadcast. So, whenever/if this recording is found in a room with only bloodstains on the ground, know that someone spent their last moments locked in a room with zombies on the other side, scared shi-[sound of the door breaking followed by gunshots and screaming]
~~~
[Radio Broadcast Transcript]
[Sound of static, followed by a click as the broadcast begins]
Radio: This is an emergency broadcast from Wales, Alaska. To anyone receiving this message, please listen carefully. The town of Wales is currently facing a dire situation. We are under attack by what can only be described as... zombies.
Sound Effects: Faint sounds of commotion and panic.
Radio: If you're receiving this broadcast, I beg you to come to our aid. We have a small group of survivors here, and they're doing our best to hold out, but we can't do it alone.
Sound Effects: Static.
Radio: My group is currently stationed at the community center in Wales. Things are going to shit quickly and they can't hold out much longer without rescue.
Sound Effects: Distant screams.
Radio: To anyone listening, please, if you can help us, make your way to Wales, Alaska.
[Sound of static as the broadcast ends]