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Case File: II45894-036
Classification Level: Classified - Clearance Level 9
Case Subject: "Infection" Incident - Documentation.
Case File Note: The following is a collection of notes and journals obtained from survivors of the "Infection" Incident of three years ago. The Journals have been broken down by entry in order to better document the chronology of the event.



Begin Case File Sixth Entry

Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=2249]Cleric

Case File Note: Due to the condition of the following journal, reconstruction of the pages is required. The entries will be added in as they are reconstructed. This will cause them to be off with the Case File chronology.

Journal Entry 1

God damn cell phones! I was hoping to stay on the line with my girlfriend just a little longer, but the signal cut out. The news continued to report on the mysterious infection as me and my Dad watched from home. Reports continued to poor in of these "infected" attacking other people, tearing them limb from limb. That was all me and my dad needed to hear. We boarded up our windows, armed ourselves with 2 Bushmaster AR-15's as our primary weapons, being they were the rifles we had the most ammo for. We had plenty of food and fresh water that could last up to 2 weeks if we rationed well.

I continued to check my phone for hours for any signs of signal, but there was no luck. Then, a beep echoed out of my phone from my pocket. Quickly taking it out it said i had a voicemail. With one bar of reception i listened. Tractor had called to tell me he had gone to Ingleside and was now heading to his house for more supplies.

God damn.....i hope he makes it, he is our way out.

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=2137]Tractorpull

Dec. 4th Afternoon

I pulled the loaded truck out into the empty street and headed across town. My cell phone was sitting on the dash searching desperately for signal. I was hoping for some word on my family, my friends, hell, a wrong number would have been good at this point. I didn’t realize it then, but I was so pressed for time. I rolled through the small downtown strip. A lot of the shops looked looted. However I wasn't shopping for furniture, I needed food. The grocery store was the last place I really wanted to be but I hoped it hadn’t been picked clean. I parked out front and locked up the truck. I wasn’t worried as much about infected as I was other people. I smashed the glass in the sliding door with the butt of the M1 and made my way inside. I had shopped at this store for the past year and I knew the layout. Canned food was all the way in the back.

I drug a cart into the store and proceeded to the back, lighting the way with my flash light. I rounded the corner past the deli. I could have swore something dashed across the aisle way at the end. I un-holstered the kimber. I scanned down every aisle with the light, praying nothing was there.

The eerie silence was pierced by the most horrifying guttural howl I had ever heard. Every hair in my body was on end. I heard shuffling behind me, I turned……..There stood a man, maybe my age. I hesitated. He looked strangely familiar, maybe I had him in one of my classes. An instant later I realized he was infected as he lunged at me. I squeezed the trigger and the pistol bucked against my hand, and he fell to the floor. No time now, have to run.

I made a mad dash for the canned meats and grabbed anything and everything. Tuna, Vienna Sausages, spam, Wolf Brand chili. Next aisle, campbells in those retarded racks, grabbed the cheaper stuff I could shovel off the shelf into the cart. Next aisle, fruits, vegetables, I just ran down the aisle grabbing what I could and I made a mad dash to the exit.

I drug everything outside and started throwing it into the truck. I threw the cart to the side and scanned the streets. They weren’t empty anymore. I could see infected shuffling through the ghost town, like a slow dirge towards the grocery store. I unslung the M1 and took aim. First one, an older woman, I paused, then fired. She hit the ground before I heard the bullet strike. I turned, a man in a suit. Another shot, another kill. I scanned again and I could see more infected coming out of buildings. They must have made their way into town from the highway. It was futile to try and fight them all. I had to move. I unlocked the truck and jumped in. I turned out onto the street and I saw infected down the length. As well as a few burned abandoned vehicles. Highway 77 would most likely be impassible, and I headed out on the country roads.

Once out of town I found a good clearing and stopped the truck. I pulled out my atlas and checked out my route I had planned that morning. I looked at my phone. The time was 1:45 PM. With a little luck I could make Ingleside before dark.

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=3705]Walkerxes

Dec 8th - A short time later,

Ficet and I agreed to catch some rest while we're here in the safehouse. I decided to take the first watch. He's sleeping now... and finally he looks a bit less like my effing hero and more like a 15 year old kid caught up way over his head. His sleep is fitful. Surprising out of him, considering he's always smiling and cracking wise when he's awake, like he's not got a worry in the world.

I took a gaze through the diary he's keeping as well. Even his entries are rife with wry humor. He's pulled some crazy shit, this kid.

He's still my fucking hero. He's already saved my ass 3 times, and I'm twice his fucking age (um.. plus a few).

It's funny to me, though. We're both keeping journals. Neither of us kept one before this. How many more are there out there, alive, running scared, and writing it all down?

Is it all for posterity? Are we trying to warn those who come behind us? ...somehow I don't think that's the case.

In a way, I think it's our way of spraypainting "Tony <3's Melissa" on the railroad overpass, or scratching "Jeff was here" behind the statue of Lincoln in the Lincoln Memorial. A way of saying "I was HERE. I mattered. Don't forget me!" ... we just want someone to remember. And in days like these, it's pretty up in the air just who and how many will be left TO remember.

But it's the hope. That our race will continue, and someone will memorialize us. That our lives will have meant something.

Fuck, I'm tired. I hurt. Worse than I'm letting on. ..and I think some of these cuts are getting infected. ..NOT THAT KIND OF INFECTED! Jesus.. never that way... Just the run-of-the-mill infection; no less deadly, but far less... terrifying.

But which is better? Keep moving or stay put for the night? I certainly notice the pain less when we're moving and the adrenaline is pumping...

Maybe Ficet will have some ideas when its his turn to take watch.

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=4796]Tick

December 8th, late evening (note to self, find new watch asap!)

Can't see the car parked outside anymore. Whatever that guy was looking for, I don't think he found it. Fucking scared the shit out of me when a laser flashed across my face, though. Was expecting a bullet between the eyes, instead it was just the guy waving a laser pointer around, trying to signal someone. Sorry fella, whoever you were, but I'm staying locked up tight for now.

Today's earlier experiment with the pipe bomb has given me something else to focus on besides Flea's absence. Need to figure out some way of increasing its effect while decreasing the concussion wave. That damn bomb had enough force to knock me off my feet from 20 yards away, but I doubt it'd do much to slow down a zombie. What I need is more shrapnel. You could probably liquefy 90% of their organs and they'd still keep coming at you. You need to hit the brain stem, or sever their damn heads completely. Maybe sever their spinal column. Pretty sure their mouths would still work, though.

More shrapnel, less concussive force, greater velocity... Going to risk the flashlight tonight and read up on some of my reloading manuals, see if I can't get some ideas. Gotta make sure the blackout curtains are airtight. After the initial exodus, there seem to be less and less survivors poking around, but I'm not taking any chances. Dunno how long until Flea gets here, but I'm gonna wait it out.

Ration notes, starting tomorrow (IMPORTANT):
1/4 MRE or 1/2 can of soup
1.5 bottles of water
PER DAY

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=2137]Tractorpull

Dec 5th Morning

I parked the truck in a farmer’s barn overnight. A cold front had blown in and I was chilled to the bones. I peeked out the window to make sure no infected were about. I pulled out my atlas. I was near Bayside and I had to figure out a plan of action. I grabbed my phone and stepped outside. I walked in circles looking for signal before I finally got one. 2 precious bars. I immediately called mom and dad. The phone rang once before I heard them pick up.

“Are you okay son!!! Where are you??”

“Mom I am okay, I am near Bayside, I tried to evacuate from Ingleside but the base is closed now. What does it look like out west? Can I head that way?”

There was a disturbingly long pause “No……the army pulled back to Crystal City and we went with them. They are fortifying the town and told us not to tell anyone to come. Everyone gets shot on sight..I’m sorry”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s probably too far for me to make anyway. I don’t know the roads well enough. I am going to go back home and try and ride it out at the house or keep heading north and find a pocket of resistance.”

“If you are in safe spot now just stay put, we can have the Lieutenant get in contact with other people to come get you and…”

I cut her short “Mom you know that won’t happen. The army isn’t going to go searching through all this mess for some college student. Don’t worry about me. I will be fine. I love you. Tell dad I love him too”

I heard her start crying over the phone. I spoke again, “And I know you love me. Take care of yourselves, and I will see you again, I promise.”

And then I hung up. I sat down on the ground and fought the tears.

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=4369]LuckyDucky

Dec. 8th Unknown time of night.

I sit here in the freezer of a butcher's store. It's rather creepy with all the gutted pigs and shit hanging around but I have no time to think about that now, looks like I might freeze to death in here. I guess I better write down everything that has happened, and how I'm in this pathetic situation.

On my way back to Tick's place, I decided to rest inside a butcher's store. The windows were barred and the door was of what appeared to be fairly strong metal, must have been the poor part of the city back when the infected were not dominant species. So naturally I felt it was safe to take a quick nap...well that nap turned into a long sleep...only to be awakened to what looked like 100 zombies clawing at the bars and door. I searched for another way out only to find the freezer. Going back to the front knowing that was the only way out I lifted the shotgun, pointed it at the door, I figured I would get a decent shot at them through the door, and....big mistake, the shotgun ripped a neat hole in the door for those things to get inside. So it appears now that I destroyed the only thing that protected me from them...realizing my mistake I ran back to the freezer and locked myself inside.

So now here I am writing in my journal, what will likely be my last entry...what a stupid death, I went through so much to die like this? Frozen in a fucking butcher's store freezer? Well either that or I can go outside and join the ranks of the infected...oh well I hope it won't come to that, despite there being so little hope...I guess I'll take some time to ponder my situation, and see if I can't at least come up with some more interesting way to die...so now I wait...


This is boring...

-Lucky

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=2478]Ficet99

Dec 8

So it's my turn to take watch now while Walker sleeps. Poor guy even seems nervous while he sleeps, it's like he has a chip on his shoulder. I guess the chance of being mauled to death at any second by a group of blood thirsty savages does qualify as a pretty big chip, but it doesn't bother me too much I guess. This whole situation is bad but it seems like a nice escape from the everyday and from the average, it's getting me out of that rut I called my life where nothing was exciting and I did the same thing all the time. He would probably call me crazy for saying that but I enjoy the action, the suspense and even the chance for death seems... a bit exhilarating.

I try to stay in a good mood no matter what (seems to freak out Walker a bit sometimes) this helps when it comes down to problems like this. I guess I am afraid of death but I'm already living in Hell and it only gets better with Heaven. Maybe I just want to get that one last thrill out of life before I go, and act like a fearless maniac to get there. I wonder if that's a bad thing in retrospect though... oh well.

Once morning comes I guess we'll begin to head out again and hopefully find more help. maybe we could stay here, but then we'd just be using up rations for other people who may come through here, and if those things become smart enough to open that metal door I'd rather not be here to witness it...

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=2249]Cleric

Journal Entry 2 and 3: Dec 5th Afternoon and Evening

I was up on the roof of my house when I saw the first infected at about 2:00 pm. It was a man, about six feet tall, wearing overalls. Through the scope on my .270 i could tell that he was from one of the nearby Seadrift plants. He did'nt seem like he knew where he was going, but he was coming in the direction of our house and that was enough for me. Taking careful aim i put the crosshairs on his head and waited for a shot. He was about 200 yards away, perfect range. Taking a breath, i held, and then squeezed the trigger. His head split in two and he fell to the ground...god damn do i love 125 grain hollow points!

About two hours later i had'nt seen a single infected. 'Maybe we are safe here' i thought. However, i took a look through my scope toward my local town of Vanderbilt. The sight was not to my liking. Down the road hundreds of infected were walking toward my home, but it wasn't the infected that caught my attention. A family, our neighbors, were trying to retreat on foot through the freshly tilled cornfield, but they were not unnoticed. The infected noticed their presence and began to charge at them. They were at least 600 yards away and protecting them would be almost impossible, but i had to try, there were children with them! Rushing to the other end of my roof i dropped to get a better shot. The survivors noticed the oncoming horde and their pace quickened. An infected was closing on them..... My thoughts raced, "Take the shot Cleric...TAKE IT!!" Quickly taking the best rest i could i aimed.....took a breath....and fired. My shot rang out, deafening my ears with its resonance, the bullet caught the oncoming infected directly in the face, dropping it to the ground. Before i could admire my shot, the reality brought me back and i quickly breached the spent shell and loaded another. The horde was right upon them now, my heart racing, i squeezed off another round catching another oncoming infected in the head.....but it was not enough. The horde overwhelmed the survivors and i had to turn my head away to not watch, their screams of agony echoing in the wind.

I got off my roof, ran back inside, and re-barricaded the front door. My dad was gazing out the bathroom window at the oncoming infected, taking shots with his AR-15.

He ceases fire and turned to me, a shocking look on his face, "Break out the Judge."

God damnit Tractor.....where are you!!!!

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Case Subject: [url=http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?action=profile;u=2137]Tractorpull

Dec 5th

After about five minutes I had convinced myself crying was a waste of time. I pull the phone out again. Still have a bar of signal. I need to know what was going on at home. I decided to call cleric. Maybe he is still back there. It went straight to his voicemail. Damn, oh well better leave a message, maybe he will get it. “ Cleric its Tractor, man I hope you are okay dude, I tried to evacuate at Ingleside and that place is cluster-fuck. Don’t go there!!! I am heading back home. I will try and go by your place, if you are there look out for me. I’m driving a white F-350 that says Kingsville Precinct 3 on the side…don’t ask. Hope to see you brother.”

I walked back to the truck and planned my route. I couldn’t count on any place to stay overnight again. I had to make it all the way or not try at all. Luckily the closer I got to home the more roads I knew. I threw open the barn doors and rolled out.

Dec 5th afternoon

I made it to my hometown. I didn’t have long. I pulled up to my house…..there was nothing left. The house had been burned as well as a few others in town. The shop was still there though. I pulled around back to the diesel tank. Hopefully Dad had some left from tilling this year. I knocked on the tank. A little more than 500 gallons left. Plenty to fill me up to the top. I pulled out the small generator and started pumping fuel.

Too much noise I guess, 5 infected came through the woods near the shop. Luckily I kept the M1 close. I picked it up and began firing. Boom! One down…Boom! Two down. I’m a better shot than I give myself credit for I guess. Boom! Spoke too soon, chest shot. The infected stumbled for a second but got back up. I took aim again…Boom! Down. Boom! One left…Boom! Last one. I got to get out of here. I killed the pump. The last drum was pretty much full anyway and there are no safe places in town. Cleric’s place is 4 miles away. Hopefully he is there.

I jammed the truck into gear and cut across the fields and turn-rows towards that county road that took me to Cleric’s. Something told me I didn’t have a second to spare.

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End Case File Entry

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