My name is John Archer, some people call me Archer ,although, most now call me the Archivist. I was thirty nine years old when the world collapsed, old enough to remember before the pandemic. It is now the year 2038 and there are still pockets of civility left in this world.
Like most of those around my age, I had started my adult life as something else entirely. I was a button pusher in insurance, at one of those all around companies that will insure everything from your car to your life. The only good thing that came out of my time in insurance was learning to collect information and put it together in a understandable format.
When the world fell apart, I was in my late thirties and in sad physical condition. The only reason I survived is that I got in with a good group right at the beginning. I had a wide range of knowledge, I just lacked the practical application of the knowledge I possessed. We met at one of the tens of thousands of FEMA centers set up in the early days of the pandemic. Our center, fifty miles outside Denver, was set up like a large old west town made of tents, but with every model of modern car on the dirt roads. It had dusty streets, hastily cleared by large equipment, that from the sky probably resembled a spider web. Fifteen hundred people grouped together and then placed into neighborhoods of around fifty adults. These neighborhoods were designed to be a grouping of tents placed around a communal cooking and eating area. Some of the neighborhoods worked, others did not. There were a few instances of people being moved around in the first few weeks to make them work more efficiently.
Most of the neighborhoods included one medical doctor, a nurse, an administrator, a secretary and a chef. We got lucky, in that our chef brought two of her own sous chefs with her. Our neighborhood also had a couple who taught wilderness survival, a cop, a firefighter, a custodian from a school, several homemakers and a handful of people like myself, button pushers by trade with varying amounts of useful knowledge. We were a group that got lucky and clicked. Our administrator sat us all down, forty eight adults and 14 children, to discuss what our strengths are. It was awkward, but she was able to find everyone in our group something useful that they could do to contribute. Some of us had hands on skills while others had information that was deemed valuable. We even set up a daycare/school so a few of the women could watch all the children in the communal area and their parents could contribute as well.
When the neighborhood areas were assigned, I was disappointed that our group was put in a neighborhood on the back side of the FEMA center, but this turned out to be a blessing.
The night that ended our stay at the center started as all the others had. Our chefs and a couple of volunteers went to the main mess tent to receive the fresh items scavenged that day. We had kept in the habit of staying packed up, as our survival experts recommended and had posted our own sentries around our neighborhood. The chef and others had just made it through our newly set up perimeter when the first shots were heard. People in other neighborhoods started moving towards the sounds due to humans undeniable curiosity. Then the screams started, ringing out like a symphony orchestra tuning up for a performance. The FEMA center walkie-talkies came to life, stating the situation at the front as becoming overrun and appealing for all available people with firearms to come towards the front area to help defend against the horde of zombies. No one but the trained soldiers listened and responded. Panic engulfed the people in the center, people started to push their way towards the back fences. Tents were trampled, people too. Some had even started to loot the camps on their way to the back.
Our escape plan was put into action at the first sound of gunfire. The cars, already facing our chosen section of back fencing for our exit, were packed with all our bags and all of our dry supplies, water, and the fresh food just picked up. Our tents were collapsed but not folded properly and thrown into the vehicles. Our neighborhood was ready to pull out within 10 minutes of the first shot.
There were different signals that were taught to all the people when they arrived at the FEMA center. Our groups plan was to wait until the signal came that meant the zombies had broken through the line of soldiers and had passed the halfway point into the center. When this signal came over the walkie-talkies, we cut our way through the fence using the heavy duty wire cutters that we smuggled into our neighborhood after a scavenging mission. Our vehicles pulled through with the last clunker of a van used to seal the hole we had made.
I turned around only once and what I saw made my blood run cold. People had moved the van and were streaming out of the exit to escape the approaching zombies. We had made it out, but were now going to be on our own. It made me think about how it all began to go so wrong.
Looking back at the year it all started, 2017, it seems hard to believe everything that has happened. No one knew, myself included, what would happen when the United States of America elected that man as the president of our country. It was unprecedented to have a person who had no political experience run for and win the presidency. I never could have guessed what this seemingly harmless result would bring; the wars that would be started, the weapons that would be unleashed. Bombs fell, bullets flew and hell was unleashed onto the world in the form of chemical and biological agents that were conceived of and twisted by brilliant human minds. Nothing was held back, not even nuclear missiles would be kept free of the fight.
Who knows where the infection truly started. We only know what has been traced back from all the available spotty information. The earliest dated report I could find states that the first known infection in the United States, patient zero as the doctors had taken to calling him, was a trucker who was infected at a truck stop outside Barstow, California. The most likely infectious agent was a rest stop vending machine tuna sandwich. The trucker, Ralph Walker, was a large white male in moderately good health. The agents investigating the outbreak interviewed his boss. Mr. Walker was known to eat anything, from street food in foreign countries to vending machine fare at the rest stops where he slept. He boss remembered him bragging about his "iron stomach that could digest even the most foul of foods on the verge of spoiling".
From the interviews taken at Barstow Community Hospital, the man who found him at the rest stop was one of the employees of Cal-trans. He said that he had seen that truck drive in on Friday because "his truck is so fresh, man". The following Monday, it was still there when he came in for the work. Normally, if a trucker stays for more than the allocated eight hours, like overnight making it more like twelve hours, it was overlooked. But four days was just too long. He called his boss and was instructed to check on the trucker. After opening the unlocked door of the truck he ended up having to fight off the trucker, and was bit on the right forearm. Once he got out of the truck and called for help, the infection found more victims. The ambulance EMT, the Highway Patrol officers who responded, the emergency room doctor, a nurse and a couple of security guards who were called in to help secure Mr. Walker to the gurney, in total, eight were bit and allowed to leave, spreading the infection immediately.
When patient zero was finally secured hand and foot to the bed and the machines used in all emergency rooms were attached to him, the doctors and nurses could not believe what the machines were saying. He had no heart beat, no oxygen saturation, and no brain activity except in the brain stem itself. Yet, he was growling, moaning and biting people like a rabid animal. The local doctors were very interested in continuing their study, but the military had other ideas. It was a general who came with a court order claiming the patient with soldiers in hazmat suits to move him. They brought many items to help secure him and keep him from biting any of them. The first item was a medical restraint mask, then a straight jacket with chains to secure his arms, shackles on his ankles and a body bag were the final measures taken. Everyone directly involved in his care was interviewed and then they pulled out.
The rest stop employee was brought in for treatment for his bite. Within a few hours, he was exhibiting symptoms that did not seem to stem from the bite. His lungs stopped functioning so he was put on a respirator; the EKG and EEG readouts started going haywire; he became combative and had to be sedated. It was not long after that when he crashed and was declared deceased. The hospital followed all protocols and sent the body to the morgue with an attendant, but both the body and the attendant never got there. One of his co-workers went to look for him, thinking he might have gone for an unscheduled smoke break. After looking out the bay door where the smokers seemed to congregate and not finding the attendant, he headed for the elevator. That is where the gurney was found, covered in fresh blood with pieces of the attendant lying on it and the floor beside it.
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| Our world after the infection |
Once the pandemic could no longer be kept from the public, the press was given a list of talking points and every channel sounded like every other channel. The president tweeted: "It must be a biological attack by the enemies of our great country." This caused already tense relations with Russia, China and North Korea to become strained to a dangerously low point. the President tweeted that he "vowed to strike back at the cowardly enemy who struck in such a cowardly way".
That is when infections became obvious in numerous countries around the world causing diplomatic insults to fly. Other countries vowed to strike back at the USA, who "were spreading our own sickness to our enemies to weaken their populations in preparation to invade". Words flew, then soldiers, bullets, and missiles.
Cities were destroyed, people were infected or just fighting for survival. Before the inevitable collapse of governments around the world, nuclear attacks were launched; nine cities in the USA alone were nuked: Washington D.C., New York, Los Angeles, Atlanta (headquarters of the CDC), Chicago, Denver, San Francisco, Seattle, and Dallas/Fort Worth. Strikes were launched from the USA in retaliation, compounding the problems world wide. Infrastructure failed, chaos reigned.
The following is a collection of journal entries, blogs, and vlogs starting from just before the infection was known onward. Some of then were found by our group while searching for a safe place to stay. Others were found by people and were brought to me as the one now keeping the archive.
As a writer and artist, I appreciate
any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read
this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan
collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at
www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology
of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the
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Yesterday I just hunkered down in place and watched around my house with my binoculars from a shaded upstairs window. The entire neighborhood has descended into chaos. It reminded me of why I never enjoyed zombie movies. The people running, screaming, stealing, raping, killing and dying. All of humanities best and most fun activities when the world is turning into a giant ball of flaming shit. The worst comes out in most people when the shit hits the fan, especially if it hits hard enough to break off the fan blades.
