The Infection

by dancrossbow

Four survivors struggle through the horrors of the Infection in several cities; they come across various perilous locations, as well as allies and hordes of hungry zombies. The story is broken up into three parts, and it is in the viewpoint of the main character through his journal, in which he recalls his experiences. Thanks for reading; please comment and give advice on my work.

3. Part Three - The Way Home

Part Three - The Way Home

April 17, 2011

As soon as we exited the helicopter, we were greeted by a number of survivors living in the area, including our rescue pilot, lieutenant Seth W.

Seth is a fine man; he's the only one who really respects our group, and Snake, Seth, and I can compare since we've all had military careers. He is but a few years younger than me, but a skilled pilot and one of the city's supply gatherers.

[Picture 40 - SETH] drawings/d/1KWA3iNcRkY1prVzNq3Fy-zjWsqIa0eP8CUARd0u-TCQ/edit

- We've finished unpacking our supplies, and we are ready for the first hot meal we've had in ages. The food isn't great, but it's still better than what we've been eating for the past few months. But if someone comes back victorious with a fresh kill from the woods (deer or rabbit), then that's the real deal.

[Picture 41 - SOLDIER] drawings/d/1xdj7Q2JqRFuE5d-bnso8GsYU9UpRJrAOVb-VpAwzaU/edit

April 20, 2011

Someone was killed the other day. No accident, either. The soldiers were testing everyone for any trace of the infection, and apparently the cure that we discovered is impossible, and that my arm recovered from natural causes. So we're curing the infection - one bullet at a time.

A soldier lifted up the infection-scanning device to a middle aged man's eye (signs of the infection appear first in the eyes) and he activated the button. After a few moments of anxiety, the instrument gave a mournful beep. The man was dragged harshly out of the line we stood in and was kicked to the ground on his hands and knees. Before anyone could protest, a soldier fired a round into the back of his head. Afterward another soldier torched the body with a flamethrower. Nothing but a pile of ashes remained.

Later -

Seth informed me that yesterday's event was called a "Reaping" - if there is but a hint that you may have the infection, they will terminate you on sight. All it takes is a sniffle and you're dead.

April 21, 2011

The soldiers confiscated everything we had the day we arrived: all of our weapons and ammunition, along with the few rations we had, and other supplies like binoculars, the radio (that was probably used by cavemen), our combat/hunting knives, etc. The only things we have now is the shirts off our backs. They only issue equipment for hunting parties - maybe a bow with a couple of arrows, a knife if you're lucky. So every one of us has nothing, but at least we have shelter and food; so we're safe... I hope.

April 24, 2011

We gathered for lunch around the fire this noon, and we expected to get bombarded by questions about our journey by a host of curious prospectors. But this time we were surprised to find out we were the ones listening. Dmitri Vladof, a former Russian who immigrated to the U.S. in 1994, told of how he and his comrades escaped certain death, and how he ended up here. After his more-than-fine tale was over, he informed us of an event in which only he and his men had experienced - and lived.

Dmitri's story (as told by Dmitri Vladof):

Me and my comrades were in open field. No cover. We had - maybe fifty rounds - between the five of us. Fog was thick as heck. We knew they were close. We could smell them. We waited few minutes - then, they came.

They were relentless. We killed many, and after while, it seemed to be over. No, not over. Far from over. We heard a sound just beyond fog. It was devastatingly solemn - no ordinary zombie; was not a human... but a sobaka (dog) - the sound was a howl.

Before I knew it I was on my back, and just as quickly my men reacted - or I'd be dead. We barely saw it come through fog, but fortunately my comrades shot the "hound" fast enough. We heard more coming, so we ran. We were lucky enough to make it here, though prison is better on days. At least I have my comrades.

April 25, 2011

Nothing really to write today; same old, same old. I still can't stop thinking about the "hounds" Dmitri describe yesterday. I know dogs have similar anatomies as humans, and they can contract some of the same diseases as us, but I didn't think that the infection was one of them.

April 26, 2011

I finally had enough time to walk around the entire fortification and make a map. I can't give full credit to myself, because my team helped me organize it. This is approximately the setup of the camp:

[Picture 42 - REFUGEE CAMP] drawings/d/1S8M-HTayyWrov5wTOLYOc3M7TMT8hpvXejHDFzilWcY/edit

April 27, 2011

It was cool this morning with a light breeze. Although I wasn't necessarily cold, I shivered; goosebumps covered my arms. I felt strange - something wasn't right. Gray, menacing clouds began to form throughout the day. We heard distant noises that we knew were infected, which only lowered our morale. Is this the end? Is this the calm before the storm?

[Picture 43 - DESERT EAGLE] drawings/d/1f-gMphQjdeXOHBqMWo4WyMa_qI4SDO00PHgcnm0AS9s/edit

April 28, 2011 - Camp Stronghold, The Last Stand

Dark clouds still hung in the sky from yesterday. As Dmitri and his men and I, plus my companions, ate our lunch rations, we heard the same distant noises that we heard the other day. Seth grabbed some chow and sat next to me.

"You think they'll go away?" I nodded towards the sounds.

"Not for awhile. But don't worry, this is normal. They can't get in anyway, due to the walls surrounding the camp." Seth seemed fine about the situation, so I calmed down. For the next few minutes we ate in silence; we had nothing to talk about. As I listened to the pathetic cries of the undead, I thought about this disease. How did it kill so many people? What do the zombies want (besides brainz)? What will we do next?! When will they - ?! Tornado sirens began blaring throughout the camp. Everyone was shocked for a few moments, until we realized that the infected had somehow managed to break in. We heard shrieks of terror from the camp's residents as we dropped everything we were doing and ran for the tents for what little supplies we had.

The company (my group and I, including Seth, with Vladof and his comrades) packed the belongings that we were allowed to keep into our backpacks: all available rations, a few medical kits, some clothes, and a few other less-important items - but we remembered... we had no weapons.

"What are we going to do now?" Dusk asked. "Kill them with our breath?"

"To the barracks!" Dmitri ordered. "The soldiers are off defending the camp."

"You heard him," Snake said. Let's go!" We came upon the soldiers' barracks in no time, and Seth tried to open the door, but to no avail. Everyone looked for an entrance of some kind, but none were found. All the windows were barred with either steel bars or strong wooden beams.

"We'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way," Dmitri beckoned for an enormous Russian to come forward. "Sergei! Open the door for us." Then Dmitri faced our way and said, "It would be most wise of you to get out of the way."

Tom pronounced: "Oh, let's move." Immediately after he saw that we were far enough back, Sergei rammed into the steel door with the entirety of his bulk. At the first strike, the upper corner of the door caved in. The next blow rendered the lock useless. Sergei "gently" nudged the door open.

We entered the room to find a few stashed weapons and stunningly plenty of ammunition. Dmitri suddenly explained with enthusiasm: "Weapons! Ha ha! We will not die so soon, and not before a fight!" I pondered what weapon to bare, but -

"Here!" Dmitri interrupted my thoughts. He handed me a classic Russian-made AK-47, and I took it, nodding. It felt strangely familiar, and very comfortable. It was like an extension of myself, an expander of my skills. I felt through my soul the many Russians before me who wielded this same weapon type during every war since it was designed by Mikhail Kalashnikov in 1947 (wait, how did I know that?) "Honor your Russian heritage with this weapon. You can always trust the gun at you side!"

"Da!" (Yes!) I replied. And with our newly acquired weapons, we headed out.

"It sounds like they broke in near the greenhouses," Shadow announced.

"Yes," replied Yuri, an ex-Spetsnaz (special forces). "We should move there... it's our best chance." Just moments later frightened bystanders rushed past us, too oblivious to ask for help, and just as fearful of the undead as of the soldiers, for chance of being executed in this horror show of chaos. The soldiers were busy firing upon anything that ran, not taking the time to distinguish the dead from the living.

The hordes receded, and the soldiers maintained their defensive positions, a few squads covering the demolished wall, and a group of two watching the inside area of the camp, next to the greenhouses. Many of the soldiers began reloading - now's our chance.

"Run that way!" I pointed in the direction of our exit. We then began sprinting, not looking left or right, only focusing on our escape. As soon as we made it just out of the camp, a barbed-wire fence stopped us in our tracks.

A commanding officer to one of the squads stepped out into plain sight not a hundred yards from the damaged wall, and with his Beretta 92A1 handgun raised, declaimed, "You men get back here right now!"

"Oh man," I shuttered in a shaky voice. I almost turned back, but I knew it was too late. But we were trapped on both sides - what would we do?

Dmitri gazed at me, and what his eyes portrayed paralyzed me. Though he spoke no words, I knew exactly what he was thinking. In a fraction of a second, I had a flashback:

"What? No! Can't we do something -"

He knew that one of us would have to stay behind, so he simply told me: "Go."

A tear stinged my eye. "Dmitri," I whispered.

"Niet," (No) he replied. "There's no other way." He then, with his right hand, proceeded to unstrap the holster located on the right side of his waist; he held the pistol grip. With his left hand he did the same to a curved sheath on his left side. He halted.

"Spasiba!" (Thank you!) I said. "For everything!"

"Pozhaluysta," (You're welcome) he replied. Then Dmitri Vladof produced: with his right hand, a tarnished yet undoubtedly durable Makarov handgun; with his left hand an ever-so-iconic agricultural crop-collecting (not anymore!) mickle sickle.

"Do svidaniya," (Goodbye) I concluded.

"Do svidaniya," he replied. "Prepare yourselves, men!" As Dmitri and his comrades stayed behind, the rest of us climbed over the fence. The following moments changed my life drastically.

"Za Rossiya!" (you can probably guess what that means) Dmitri bellowed as the Russians charged the soldiers with the kind of courage not unlike the Russians who stormed Napoleon's French forces during the battle of 1812; at this point the 1812 Overture was playing in my head.

As soon as all of my friends and I vaulted the fence, we started to run. We had no clue where we we were going; we just knew that we had to make it as far away from this forsaken prison as possible.

"Wait, hold on. Hold on!" Seth beckoned for us to stop. "I thought I heard -" his words were cut short by a distant bone-chilling heart-piercing flesh-ripping - howl... Dmitri's story...

"Run like heck!" Shadow exclaimed. As we fled, I scanned every square foot that I had time for. I regret looking back. I saw... they - they were just shadows, blending in with the trees. But I was certain they were hounds.

We soon exited the forest to emerge in a clearing. In the distance we could make out what seemed to be the water tower from the fifteenth of April; although we knew that we were not in the same area we were in a while ago, for we could also see the lake, as well as the woods and swamp.

"We should be safe out here," Snake said. "Let's set up a temporary shelter." He faced Shadow and Dusk. "You two, go gather firewood while Tom and Seth find some chow." The he told me to help him set up a semi-decent camp.

"What?! I am not going back in there with those things still lurking around," Shadow protested.

Snake replied, "Just be cautious and stay together. But make haste! For the light is fading!"

[Picture 44 - COMMANDING OFFICER] drawings/d/1Rx5xY7Fq1h-aJ4uPoA529H8aN9JYVtKjJolPKgtrooI/edit

[Picture 45 - ZOMBIE GUIDE] drawings/d/1BoxmIjBZgmJ63GQTAU_-8tHYcOF5lJKucV4m4Mstvz8/edit

Nighttime, 11:17 p.m.

Everyone's asleep now. The fire is glowing hot with bright orange embers, and the growling will not cease. We ate some sour wild-berries and some protein-rich crickets (not half bad roasted in the fire), but other than that we had nothing to eat. I'm on watch duty now, but... I grow ever more tiresome as the minutes go by. I feel... like sleep is... taking... me -

I awoke suddenly, and I bolted upright, my heart racing in my chest. The fire was extinguished. Looking around, I found to my shock - I was alone. Everything had vanished: our weapons and supplies, the makeshift tents made of tree branches and leaves, all the food, and most importantly my entire group. Gone. But indeed I was still in the same place where I had fallen asleep.

The howling insured. There was at least three, maybe four areas where the sounds were distinctive, and of those locations, several packs of the hounds were snarling or crying out into the night. Anxiety and fear struck at me like a brick to the head (like the ending of Battlefield 3).

For no apparent reason, I just then noticed how bright the night was. I looked upward in the night sky at Luna (I mean the moon), and I noticed it was in the Full phase. The craters seemed to have aligned themselves in some strange pattern, but I could not make out what it looked like.

Without warning, the pattern transformed into a strange being, one whom I still could not recognize. It was dark, and seemingly translucent with the night sky and stars. It hovered gracefully downward, towards me.

"Who are you?" I managed to get out.

A feminine voice replied: "I am the princess of the night. Thus it is my duty to come into your dreams."

"Wait, this is just a dream? But it feels so real."

"I assure you that you are asleep. But when you wake, the thing that haunts you most will still exist."

"The hounds?" I questioned. There was a slight pause.

"Are the hounds really what frighten you the most?" I thought a little, and then I made my confession:

"I'm afraid of losing my companions. They're all I have left now."

"Everyone has fears," the princess said, "and everyone must face them in their own way. But they must be faced or the nightmares will continue." Then from the distance the creatures resumed their banter. The sound picked up in volume, and grew ever closer, and it came from every direction - they were surrounding me.

I felt an urgent sense of dread as the beasts encircled me, and before I knew it the entity with whom I spoke to was ascending towards the moon. The last thing she told me as she was rising was: "Face your fears!"

The hounds trapped me... but they did not strike. Instead, they strategically sent in a runt to fight me; they wanted to see what I could do. The runt paced around me, never taking its eyes off of me. Its mouth foamed, and its mangled teeth begged for fresh meat. The bloody, gruesome flesh of the beast smelled rank as death. Like spears its eyes were, piercing through my soul.

The hound's paws clawed at the ground, until its hind legs sprang out with speed. It lunged towards me, but nonetheless, I was ready; I had unsheathed my combat knife. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes (me and the hound of course), the beast pounced -

[Picture 46 - SELF PORTRAIT] drawings/d/1RHAst_tpK5tVpjHxpo2jFe6keVHunfylczPhdTyHjeE/edit

[Picture 47 - PORTRAIT (BY SNAKE)] drawings/d/18MwgvtjchH_FfXc9IVlwDAhF-cYOzW7PHGweqfy7bOE/edit

Later - 11:32 p.m.

I awoke (for the first time) abruptly, and I sat upright, but not before jerking a heaving mass along with me. I was distressed to realize what I had done, and I tried piecing together exactly what had happened.

I had fallen asleep on my watch duty - how could I? - someone could have died. And why did I have such a strange dream? But what was this cumbersome load, and why was it laying atop me?

"Fox! What happened?" Snake shot out from his makeshift tent towards me. Since it was my watch, I was stuck outside, but since I had fallen asleep, I could not wake the next watch guard. " Are you alright?" he continued.

I was stunned for a moment; then I replied: "Yeah, I'm fine." My companions all gathered to see the cause of the commotion. The fire, just like in my dream, had gone out, so we couldn't see the weighty bulk.

There were still embers, though, so Snake ordered Seth to rebuild the fire. He grabbed a nearby handful of dried tree branches and other tinder, and the fire crackled back to life.

I was mostly numb from tiredness, so I forgot the heaviness of the load. I kept thinking back to the peculiar dream that I had had earlier. I felt sad when I remembered the thought of losing my friends; I had already lost so many comrades before: Francis, Louis, and Dmitri with his men.

As soon as the campfire's enveloping light grew well enough to see clearly for a couple yards, the crew looked at me in utter disbelief.

I looked down and I suddenly noticed that I was gripping my knife, and my hand was thoroughly soaked with blood. A hound lay slain in my lap, with my blade piercing its thorax.

Yes, I had killed the beast in my sleep; though the runt in my dream was a figment of my brain, the dead hound was real enough, and had tried to maul me silently in the night.

"How did you -?" Shadow muttered.

"I -" I stuttered. "- I have no clue..."

[Picture 48 - BOOMER] drawings/d/1DCMBAJSp6zbuRNtvXkEUUT_NWSRZJelIT_TQ6ntcELI/edit

After taking it all in, we huddled around the warmth of the flames, wondering what our next plan of action would be. A few more minutes past, and I regained my strength; so I hauled the dead carcass over my shoulders and asked my brother: "What should I do with this?"

"Cast it into the fire!" he told me. "Destroy it!" Accepting his command, I chucked the dead beast into the blazing fire. The growling of the packs continued once more.

Tom said: "I believe they know that we've killed one of their kind."

"And they expected him to return," Dusk continued. I walked over to the now blazing inferno, and I knelt down. Since the hound was so enormous, as it sagged over the fire its hind legs and head overflowed onto the bare, hot-from-fire ground. Next, I withdrew my bloody knife, which I had earlier sheathed after I dug the weapon out of the corpse. Then, without fear of getting my hands dirty, for they were already distraught with gore, I begun sawing at the brute's throat.

"What are you doing?" Dusk insisted.

"Well," I answered as I concluded slicing away at the neck-flesh. "They did expect him to return, right?" I picked up the head by the left ear with my right hand, and I treaded over a little bit away from the camp in the direction of the howling (mostly near the woods).

I continued: "If they miss him so much, then they can have him back!" I then launched the head with all my might into the woods. My friends all smiled, and a few of them had a jolly laugh or two; I had successfully raised the group's morale.

But that morale was vanquished as the packs' howling ceased... They've found him. A secondary, singular report was heard, only this was not silence. It was a low, monotonous, deep, dark, deathly growl. I was the pack leader; it was the Alpha Hound.

April 29, 2011

The clouds from yesterday morning had moved on; it was a clear, bright, warm spring day. I didn't receive much sleep last night, surprisingly not from any noises, but from the haunting silence left from the hounds' pack leader.

My group gathered out few supplies after discussing what our agenda would be. We figured that a few of us could scout around and report back if there was any areas worth scavenging. Shadow and I would search east of the camp, while Dusk and Snake inspect the area north of our camp; Tom and Seth stood watch at the camp site in order to notify us if anything were to occur.

Shadow and I trekked east, and we soon came upon a long-dead tree, surrounded by several infected.

"Alright," said I. "We'll take them together. You go in slowly on the left -"

"No, I'm takin' 'em NOW!" he interrupted me as he dove into the thick tall grass and disappeared. I hardly had time to react before each and every zombie fell to the ground, one after the other; only one zombie remained. The zombie sat awkwardly propped up against the tree, until it spotted me. It stumbled over, trying to maintain balance. Once it got a running start, I prepared myself, lifting my cherished AK-47.

Before it was ten feet away, Andy (Shadow's real name) lept out from hiding and onto the zombie's back, with both of his arms tightly clasping its neck. With one fluid motion, he mightily pulled back and at the same time grabbed onto the zombie's head and twisted swiftly, breaking the zombie's neck and severing its spinal cord.

"Hey, that one was mine!" I spoke as I lowered my weapon. "And what did I say about taking them together?"

"Sorry," he answered with a grin. "I couldn't resist."

"Wait - that tree looks familiar..." I suggested the dead tree that the last zombie had sat against. We walked a little closer, until we noticed we stood in an open field. "This - I don't know. There's just something about this place." Next we spotted a shallow, wide pit. Its dry, cracking surface and bare, grass-less area suggested that indeed there was in fact a pond in existence at some point within the last few years.

Afterward, we came upon an old, once white garage, and some sort of vegetable or fruit bush, but it was now long gone. As soon as I turned the corner of the garage, I immediately froze. It all suddenly came back to me. Instantly memories flooded my brain; I remembered. I saw the structure, still mostly standing: it was my house.

[Picture 49 - HUNTER] drawings/d/1qtSWbuwoxO6MpYRhAwSxszFYT_EASbUnSB3vbh20tcw/edit

Later -

After reporting back with the rest of the team, we headed back over to the house to investigate further. Almost everything in the house had been ransacked, so the house is close to useless, besides shelter. We noticed also that there were some supplies that were arranged in a pattern that seemed as if someone had been here recently and left in a hurry: an LED lantern was still on, sleeping bags were crumpled in piles, and canned food was open and was only partially consumed (but we didn't want to risk eating it).

Tom turned towards me and asked: "So this used to be your home?"

"Yes," I responded. "Many years ago. Before the apocalypse, and before I was in the Military. After my tour of duty in Iraq, I came back to the U.S, and this happened." I was referring "this" to the zombie outbreak. "I barely made it to Missouri with my life... then I joined up with my brother and some other survivors." He nodded, and so we ended the conversation.

This is going to be our shelter for the night. I just hope that whoever was here before is gone now. Also I wonder about the hounds... I hope we're safe enough in here.

April 30, 2011

I had another nightmare last night: it was the hounds again. They tore me to pieces, and threw every piece into a fire... I know, it's weird.

But on a positive note, I found my old PSP under a heap of trash. It was in good shape, too.

On a bad note again, when I tried to turn it on, the light flickered on, but then fizzled out.

I looked around and found the charger in the top drawer in my dresser, and I plugged it in.

... waiting... waiting... oh wait, we don't have power. NOOOOO!

Later -

I still can't forget the strange dream I had a few nights ago. I knew I was willing to sacrifice my life for my friends like my fallen comrades did before me, but could I face having to lose another companion, a closer companion?

I made a promise to never let another one of my friends go, never again. The next time anything threatens to separate our group... I will sacrifice myself - even if it's the Alpha Hound.

[Picture 50 - ZOMBIE SIGNS] drawings/d/1Skxf96vBJdXbN-m0SGrCECp10KhXFvwwhOlK6CQwfW8/edit

May 1, 2011

I still couldn't sleep because of my nightmares. I decided after multiple attempts and only a couple hours of sleep that I would just submit. I had a lot of free time to think. Trying to imagine a better place than where I currently was at seemed to calm myself, until I remembered where exactly I was: home. Yet, it isn't home anymore. None of my family members still resided here, and the hounds were tearing it ap -

Low growls came from outside. Next came the tearing of wood, coupled with some whimpers and yelps. I peered around the corner of the room in which we were staying, and just behind the barricaded door were two frizzle-haired hounds destroying our defences.

I hastily clutched my loaded rifle, and flipped the safety switch to "FIRE". I leapt out of the room and into the mini hallway leading to the door; looking back, I pronounced: "Everyone get up! They're breaking through!" Startled awake, my companions grabbed their guns and joined me in the fight.

Guns a blazin', the brutes were no match for our awesome firepower. We slew many a beast, though their numbers were great, and our ammo so low. Alas, after a time of victorious slaughteration, they obliterated the barricades.

"We have to get outta' here before they engulf us!" Dusk inquired.

"We can't manage but a few hundred feet before they catch up to us," Tom explained. "We were lucky to escape in the woods."

"So," I said as the zombie-dogs were climbing in. "There's no way of escaping... unless..." I knew what had to be done - a sacrifice. I continued: "I'll hold them off!" Everyone get out of here!"

My brother tried to protest, but I shook my head. "It's my time to leave;" I reached in my shirt and yanked my military dog tags off, which I gave to my brother. "I'll wait for you in the next life," I managed to say as my companions saluted me before leaving. But - my ammo was exhausted.

The hounds were almost in now, so I went into action. Grabbing empty glass bottles, I stuck three between my fingers near my knuckles, and taped them securely, with the openings touching my palm, and my hand enclosed in a tight fist; I did this with my right hand. With my left I held my knife.

An enormous dark gray mass clashed through the door; his bulk was far greater than that of any other hound - this was the Alpha. His bloodshot eyes stared deep inside of me. I could almost see him atop me. thrashing at my throat like a rag-doll. But I stood my ground.

He snarled, but I stood firm, even as the others surrounded me. The Alpha slowly paced towards me, reluctant to get this over with.

I saw this, and with a commanding tone, I roared: "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" And with that I shattered the bottles on the corner of a wall, creating a razor-sharp glass melee weapon that was attached to my right hand.

The beast halted. He growled again, his fangs showing. He knelt down, ready to pounce. I half-way crouched, also prepared to attack. Our eyes locked, focused on each other.

Simultaneously, not a heartbeat later, we pounced.

Afterward

I opened my eyes. "Am I dead?" I thought. Looking at my bloodied hands and the mess around me assured me that I was in fact still alive. I was stiff, but I managed to get up.

A lone growl sounded behind me. I turned cautiously, and there it was. "Come on," I muttered, trying to sound taunting, but feeling ever more weak. I began limping towards it, but I tripped on the Alpha Hound's carcass. "Oof!" I clutched my ribs, apparently bruised from the battle.

It sprang, but before its jaw was around my neck, a buckshot went off, momentarily deafening me. Flipping over, to my disbelief I saw a smoking shotgun barrel; but the surprising part was not the shotgun itself, but who held it.

Two familiar faces stood above: The one with the shotgun was a bearded, scruffy looking biker dude, and the other was a black, bald man with a white shirt and a red tie. Yes, Francis and Louis had somehow survived.

To make things really short, after days of searching, we found the rest of our crew. After a few weeks of travelling, we reached the capital, Jefferson City. A refuge was in place, only less hostile than the first. We are now able to distribute cures in growing numbers until, with other colonies and friendly survivors, we will be able to cure EVERYONE.

THE END

For real this time.