Late Afternoon

I have, at long last, managed to locate the original laboratory I experimented in. The infection has spread throughout the world. I do not know of any other surviving groups other than our own. The lab is in a decrepit shape, most of the equipment shattered to pieces.

But not all.

We still have a chance to stop this plague, and save what remains of civilization. The last newspaper I found read "China Destroyed, USA in Anarchy"

That did not bode well for any of our moods. Three of us alone come from the states. Soldier was reduced to tears, the first time I've seen him show emotion other than anger and his one-of-a-kind patriotic spirit.

We pressed on, through the numberless hordes of infected. Morale has hit an all-time low. Scout won't even gloat after kills anymore, just gritting his teeth and going for another one.

We trudged through the deep mud I remember so well. The dark muck stuck to our boots and made the going slow, and hard. However, we made it to the church at the North end. The generators were cracked, and had leaked their expired contents all over the ground. Bones and wood littered the ground, tripping us into that horrible mud. We decided to explore into the excavation site itself, but this was a fatal mistake.

Apparently, the crusaders were waiting in the catacombs, just for us. They poured from the walls, surrounding us on three sides. Not to gloat, but it was only my stored Ubercharge that saved us. The red beam of light turned the Heavy into an indestructible force of destruction. Sasha shred through crusader after crusader, ripping decayed flesh from bone.

After the bloody firefight, we emerged from the ground. But, we were not done yet. The second we got to the bottom of the stairs, dozens of infected burst forth. There was only one option-the trenches. Infected could jump from above, but we'd have to take the risk.

We'd have less than a minute to rush to the lab and bar the doors. However, a large horde of those...things, for we could not call these zombies. They might as well have tinfoil for skin after 3 years of waiting. I saw the collapsed fire hallway. I had a short flashback of Dempsey rushing down to craft the staffs, but I shook it out quickly. Not the time to be reminiscing.

Heavy jumped through the door last, being the slowest person (don't tell him I said that) in the group. Yet he made up for that in sheer size and strength. He only needed one hand to pull down the door, sealing that exit. He knew what to do, dashing over to the other entrance with just enough time to crush a skull to powder with the improvised bludgeon.

Now, we were stuck. The lab doors were completely and utterly shot, meaning if they were opened again they would not shut. Zombies would pour in endlessly, without a hope of stopping.

We needed a cure. This was the last hope of survival. Maybe for the human race. No, definitely. If we could not find a cure, humans would die out and there would be nothing after the infected starved.

I took inventory of supplies left-seven test tubes, a "Quick Revive Soda" machine, what I believe to be a pickled pig brain stem, and several audio logs of a certain Maxis. Richtofen gazed sadly at these before moving on. I know he was here before, but I did not know what connections he had here.

After running some numbers, Richtofen and I have come to the conclusion that a cure was possible. Not probable, but possible. The odds were again against us, but when had they ever been for us? I honestly can't remember a time in my life where the odds were with me. Not in Germany, not in battle, and not ever in the apocalypse.

So now, we put up a fighting chance. Richtofen and I received more numbers and have predicted a cure will take weeks to perfect with what we have to work with. We must rebuild the chemical station, 115 generator and even the forge for an injector we must build to inject a cure.

We worked through the day, I believe. The lab has no windows and none of us have watches, but we are making no progress. What little we have done is to fortify the old place a bit more. We grabbed the bed frames and tore them apart into rods to put against the door and ground.

I wonder how we will all fare, stuck together in this place. There are only two rooms and a small branch we use for a bathroom, and one of the rooms is currently being used as a lab. That's eleven men in one room. That will not go over well, I'm sure. Heavy will need a bed for Sasha as well, and it's no use fighting him; he could crush us all. We will attempt to create something of the 115 generator. It is truly an amazing achievement; the blueprints are indescribably complex, Engineer will have to heavily assist us in anything resembling building. He is actually the only true "doctor" traveling with us. I had my medical license stripped after the whole missing skeleton incident, and Richtofen-well, Richtofen is slightly insane. The government got his license when he removed a well respected man's brain and placed it in a flying robot that killed the infected. Now, I do not deny I am a little "off the deep end" but he is much further than me.

But I cannot let my mind go astray, lest the cure be forgotten. I must sleep now. Documenting this entire wild journey is a bigger task than I originally thought. Tomorrow may be the hardest part of this endeavor.