Apoxalypse

Zombie pox is quite literally the greatest threat ever known to mankind as we know it... mainly because mankind as we know it is pretty much the thirty seven of us stuck here, who are still alive.

Still, we hope there are survivors besides us and our dwindling numbers. We're sending this transcript through a quite possibly useless portal without a messenger. If we ever want to live, we can't spare a single soul to send through to a faulty portal to somewhere as unlikely as our supposed past. Still, we hope you get this. The same way we hope there are survivors.

Skeletons are falling out of our closets at every turn, especially when the remaining survivors all know they're bound to end up exactly like them one day soon.

"Breathe, you're dead. Run, you're dead. Smile, you're dead. The only way you fools won't be gonners is if you figure out where your backbone is before all your flesh has rotted down to piles of poxes and is exposed to remainder the dwindling human race, who, may I remind you, is practically just the few of us."