Chapter 1: April 25th, Day 1201 of the Infection

Varrock. Never has it been so peaceful before. No, I'm wrong. It's only peaceful in the morning, but during the night it's something entirely different. It becomes the worst war zone that any living being on this world that has ever seen. In fact it's not a war zone. It's a demented, and haunted, feeding ground, for those…things.

The weed that grew in the streets, parted softly as a man in a green cargo pants, and a black leather jacket walked though it, his faithful dog following loyally behind him.On his back, was a strapped quivery full and packed with arrows. His left hand held his maple longbow loosely, and his right hand was ready with the already placed arrow. Crouching down, he told his dog to hush and stand down. Slowly creeping towards his prey, the deer's head was jolted up from the grass that grew on the streets of Varrock. Lowering his head, so he would not be seen, the man kept his sight on the deer. As the deer bent down to feed again, a roar startled both the man and the deer, and in a moment, the deer was tackled to the ground and the sound of ripping flesh was heard. A black grizzly bear had ventured into the city, and found it's first prey. Its hungry pack slowly appeared out of the shadows of the buildings. A sound of the bell ringing on it's own, and the three o'clock shadow that was cast over the buildings alerted the man.

"Shit," he muttered, hesitating to shoot the bear for taking his prey. Looking back at the sun again, he motioned for his dog to follow him. "Come on Lily. Let's go. Come on, let's go."

As the man treaded through the desolate streets of Varrock, he approached the clothing store at the market place. Opening the door, he went inside and he was surround with several plastic models.

"Hey Ann, Lena, what are you doing here so late?" asked the man as he walked to the men's section.

Trying on a new set of clothes, he saw a female plastic model just across from him. He kept on turning back and forth between the clothes and her. Sighing to himself, he picked out a hard denim jacket and brought it to the counter where a male plastic receptionist sat.

"Hey Steve, you know… that woman…do you know…ah…her…ahh never mind. I'll be taking these ok," said the man stammering a bit.

As the man walked out the clothing store, he walked a few blocks down the main road, avoiding the burnt spear barricades that were set up to quarantine certain sections of the city. As he reached his house in the city, he opened up the door and hanged his coat on the rack before grabbing a cutting knife and heading back out. He rounded his house to the back where there was a field of corn, tomatoes, potatoes, cabbage and lettuce growing. Cutting down a few of each, he placed them into a burlap bag before heading back into his house where his faithful dog awaited him. After he placed his harvested crops on the kitchen counter, he went back outside to his front door and checked the strings of his killing contraptions. They were all intact and ready to go. Satisfied, he went back inside and locked his door.

As he put on some music on an old record player, the man began to chop up the tomatoes and boiled some water. After chopping up the potatoes, the water was already boiling, and so he threw both the tomatoes and the potatoes in together. Grabbing another pan, he opened up a can of ready to go spaghettis and threw them into the pan along with some chopped up cabbage and lettuce. Putting the pan on the stove, he let both the stew and the meal heat at a low temperature. As he entered his cozy little living room where his dog laid on the floor sleeping in the dying sunlight, he sighed and walked over to the table where he had a game of chess set up. There were several pieces on the board, the man took a white bishop with his queen. Then he moved a white knight and took the black queen that took the white bishop. Screaming in disappointment, he sat there for the next two minutes looking at the chessboard, playing against an imaginary opponent. His dog continued to bathe in the afternoon sun with the music playing softly in the background. The man decided to move a black knight back into a defensive pattern to protect the black king, before he realized that it was time for him to return to the kitchen.

The pot was boiling tomato red when he took it off the stove. The spaghetti was ready with cabbage and lettuce, with steam rising from it. Bring the food into the living room, the man sat down on a couch and set a plate next to his feet and pour some stew into it. As the man ate while reading an old book, he looked down at his dog and sighed again.

"Come on, eat your vegetables. Don't push them around. Eat your vegetables. Eat it Lily," said the man.

The dog simply whined and finished everything but the vegetables. A few minutes later, Lily was in a wooden bathtub, with the man scrubbing her with soap.

"I told you to eat your vegetables, and don't even start whining," said the man as he scratched the dog's head. "That feels good doesn't it? Yeah, I know you like it when I do that, just eat your vegetables next time ok?"

The ringing of the six o'clock bell alerted the man and the dog. Washing the soap off the dog and drying her, the man went to every window in the house and pulled down the metal shutters he had installed and locked them in place. As he reached the front door, he barred it with a metal pipe, before pulling down the shutters and locking it, and barring it again. Lighting a few candles in the living room, the man went upstairs to his room, and took out his rifle. Sitting back down on the couch, the he began to write.

This ends the 1201st day of my survival. My routine has not changed a bit. I wake up early for a morning exercise, then I have my breakfast with Lily. After breakfast I head down to the lab and check the specimens, and continue in my attempts at developing a cure. At midday, I entertain myself with golf, and I go hunting for meat. Near late noon, I scavenge whatever I can find, and gather a few crops for dinner. At nightfall, I write my discoveries and what has happened. Nothing changed. Not a single thing has changed. The world is dead. Everyone is dead. Silence is all I hear now, except for the growls and screeching of those creatures that were once human. Everyday I pray that somebody, alive, somebody that is alive, will find me, or at least I find them. Just somebody. Though there are gunshots throughout the night, they do not last very long. Every night, I pray for survival, yet I feel like giving up hope, and ending it all together with a single shot, but I can't. I must go on, and find a cure.

-Samuel John Johnson