Day 1
Hello, my name is Phil, Phil Lester. Philip Michael Lester if you're my mom and I've done something wrong, but most people just call me Phil. But it doesn't matter who I am. I'm writing this because the world need to know. I need the world to know. I mean, if anything happens to me or to my family... I fear no one will ever know what really happened, but this is proof. This is proof of all the bad that has been happening since The Day. This, if nothing else, will be a proof of our existence, because we existed. We exist. And we plan on keeping it that way. We are tough, you know. We all are. We can hold our own, even if it wasn't our choice. We were made this way. After all, we are survivors.
If you are from the future and reading this, you probably know what I'm talking about. Is it on history books? Do you have to study it like you study presidents' names and geography? Or are we truly the last ones on earth and after we pass away this diary will just become dust like everything else? It's hard to tell. Therefore, I will start at the beginning, just to set the mood. Let's go back to The Day. The day when it all began. The day everything went to hell.
I don't remember The Day as well as others do, but that's because I was only a child; therefore, I'll go straight to the facts. November the eleventh, year zero; that is the date. The day had begun like any other, with people minding their own daily business and just going around, but that was soon going to change. Little did we know that somewhere in America a lethal virus had just been released. They say it was an accident, that the system failed and that's how the virus was released, but we don't believe it. At least, not many of us do. The scientists working at the facility tried to contain the virus from spreading. They were the firsts victims. The Government proceeded to lock down the place, along with everyone in it, but that didn't work. Few minutes later it was all over the news: "Unknown lethal virus escapes U.S. facility". The virus was called XoC-16, but we call it the Blues. Why do we call it that? Because that's the first symptom.
Once you inhale the virus your heart stops beating, your lungs stop breathing, and you basically die. But it doesn't end there. If it ended there it wouldn't be as bad. Because air is not entering your system you start turning blue, a deep shade of blue. And you are dead. Most important of all, your brain is dead. But then, your system restarts. Your gasp for air and look around, but you no longer know anyone. You are alive, but your brain kind if isn't. So you are not yourself, you are not even human. You are a twisted, undead version of who you used to be. I guess this is what most people would call a zombie, but it's slightly different. You are not a rotting corpse walking around. It's all biology.
There are certain areas in our brain that control certain aspects of our lives: our brain reacts differently to certain environments and situations, releasing different chemicals into our system. What is wrong with people who got infected is that their brain no longer functions the way it should, so you become violent and irrational. You forget everything about yourself and you are unable to learn new things. You can't talk because that area of your brain is probably dead. You can't feel anything either, so you are totally senseless. But what is more, you are merciless. You have no empathy, you have no feelings, you don't understand what is to cry or feel pain, sorrow or regret. Now here is the tricky thing, people who are infected crave human meat. They will eat anything that is raw and hot: you heart, your insides, your brain. We don't know why, but it's just the way it is. And they wont kill you first, by the way: they like their meat to be fresh and beating.
If you get bitten then you are in serious trouble because that's how you get infected. I mean, yes, the virus initially spread through the air, but that only lasted so long; after that, Infected ones were to ones to keep spreading it. I guess it's not their fault, but we can't let ourselves feel sorry for them. If we do, then we are dead meat. If an Infected bites you all you can do is cut off the place where you've been bitten before the virus invades all your system. But, let's face it, this is not always possible. For instance, if you get bitten on the neck, shoulder or torso then you are dead meat. If you get bitten on your leg then you're dead meat. I mean, we could cut it off, sure, but then you wouldn't be able to run or escape if needed, and escaping is always needed. If you are lucky enough to get bitten on your arm then you might survive, but you wouldn't be able to shoot a gun or wield a weapon with as much efficiency. But it's something. I guess it could be worse. But if you get bitten and slowly start turning blue, then I'm sorry 'cause we are going to kill you. I don't care if you are my mother or my best friend: we will kill you. I'd rather kill one of us than be responsible for the death of everyone in my family. That's just the way it is.
Twelve years have passed since The Day, which means that the year twelve is currently running, it's summer, and my family and I are hiding in some empty barn that we found on the road; the country is safer, but we can't allow ourselves to just settle on one place, we are always moving, always hiding, always on the run. It's not an easy life, but we handle it alright. At this very moment I'm keeping watch as I write this. Everyone else has gone to sleep and it's my duty to keep them safe. After all, I'm the leader of this group. I'm the oldest one and I've been in charge ever since dad disappeared. We have been through a lot together and everyday is a challenge, just trying to keep alive, but we are always in for each other. And I will write about everything that we've gone through and everything that we'll face, because the world needs to know. You still have a lot to learn about us and we still have a lot of stuff to tell you. But don't worry, if I make it 'til the morning then you will know, 'cause this is our story.
My name is Phil, Philip Michael Lester, and this is the Apocalypse.
A/N: I don't like author notes, but I really need to establish some points
1) Im not a native speaker. I may and will have mistakes, and I would really appreciate any corrections and observations, just don't be rude, please. This said, please stick with my fic even if it is a little wrong when it comes to grammar or vocabulary. Help me improve it. I'm really excited about this and want to keep writing.
2) I will try my best for this fic, just give a chance. You may think it's another zombie apocalypse AU like any other, but it will be different. At least I'll try to make it differently. There will be lots of characters involved, and research will be made as to make it more realistic.
3) Some chapters will be just Phil's diary entries, like this one. Others will be regular chapter, with dialogues and all that.
4) Dan will appear soonish, I promise, but not just yet. He will be fabulous so please hang around until that time :)
5) This is just personal, but I love when people express their opinion about the things I write because I learn from them, review my works, and hopefully I'll be able to make it better. Also, I'm very friendly, so if you want to ask me anything (about the fic, or literally anything) feel free to do it. That said, I hope you enjoy the ride, see you :)
