Book of the Undead

Research Journal

Outbreak – Day 1

Zombies. People used to laugh at the possibility of the undead overrunning the world. They'd snicker in disbelief at those hording supplies and making plans should the zombies ever come. The laugher stopped this morning when the first undead was reported. What so many have feared has become a reality, a zombie apocalypse has begun.

My name is Charles Rosenthal, lead researcher at the Camden Biomedical Center. From what fictional stories have told us about the arrival of the zombies, the situation always seems to get out of hand, so I'm leaving this record. In case something happens to us, our work will continue and perhaps someone can live beyond the end of this present world. I hope so.

Outbreak – Day 4

Militaries around the globe have been working to purge all traces of the undead. They've been successful in thinning the overall numbers, but containment seems to be beyond their capabilities. Whenever an infection is reported, rapid response teams are deployed, containing or burning out the disease, but new spots appear in other zones. It seems similar to fighting an infestation of roaches, no matter how many are eliminated, more crawl out somewhere and continue unhindered. Humanity is losing this fight.

Outbreak – Day 16

Things are going very badly. The numbers of the undead seem to be growing larger every hour. Being on the front lines, the soldiers have had the greatest exposure to the undead and have suffered the highest number of losses. To better concentrate their remaining defenses, military forces have abandoned every base on foreign soil and countless cities here at home, pulling back to surround key strategic locations. The Camden Biomedical Center is in one of the cities the military's depleted numbers can no longer afford to protect. We're on our own.

Outbreak – Day 37

It's been three weeks and we haven't heard anything from the outside world. Radio and television broadcasts have stopped, only static now. Cell towers aren't working any more. The Biomedical Center has a mass of solar panels on the roof and a water treatment facility in the basement. Storage areas contain enough processed and vacuum-sealed food to last everyone inside for a year, but the debate is still going on as to what we should do before it runs out.

Outbreak – Day 39

Libraries are quiet. Cemeteries are quiet. But, ever since the undead showed up and the city around Camden Biomedical was evacuated, we've experienced a whole new definition of the word. The silence ended this morning with the arrival of the undead. It was only a single zombie, but she was followed by three more. By noon, the grounds were covered by them like a Biblical plague of locusts. They moan and thrash against our walls as if instinctively knowing the living are inside. Fortunately, we've had the first floor barricaded as heavily as possible since the outbreak first began. We can only pray it holds.

Outbreak – Day 40

My staff and fellow researchers are questioning my decision to capture zombies for study. I know I'm risking the infection spreading among the people inside, but the food isn't going to last forever. We need an effective method to eliminate the undead, and to find such a solution we'll need actual data. Without facts, we have only speculation, and that isn't enough. Despite the risks, we have to try.

Outbreak – Day 41

Our efforts did not go well. Lowering a scaffold, previously used for washing windows, down the side of the building, we managed to lasso a trio of zombies and haul them back up. Once on the roof, we stood behind cages, and the zombies showed their limited intelligence by trying to reach us through the bars rather than going around, making the closing of the cage doors behind them a simple matter. On our fourth attempt, one of the ropes slipped, tilting the scaffold and throwing lab assistant Mayes over the side. We were able to pull him up by his safety line, but he'd been bitten on the ankle. He's been placed in isolation along with those who've had direct contact with him.