From the journal of Correctional Officer Steven Williams, March 4

March 4, 2017

     I barely made it out of the Detention Center alive. When I got to work today, there was this strange quiet, especially around the Medical Pod, although, even the inmate pods were not as noisy as they usually are. Few voices drifted from the windows of any of the pods, way less than I normally heard walking into the Detention Center. This gave me the creeps and when I got to the Administration Pod, it was more quiet than normal, too. The CO's just getting off shift were looking at the floor and there was none of the usual ribald ribbing that happens in all men's locker rooms.

     I jokingly asked if they were all upset that they missed on on last nights excitement. That's when they told me and the other CO's just clocking in about what happened after we left last night.
     Everyone who had been bitten turned into on of those ravaging freaks. The deeper the bite or the more received, the faster they turned. With only a bite on his had, Chief Murphy lasted longer than anyone else, but even he turned eventually.

    Word had also come from the Justice Department that we were not the first detention center, jail, or prison this had happened in and that the National Guard was supposedly on the way to make sure of the situation.
     The reason there had been no noise from the Medical Pod was because everyone in it stayed quiet as long as no one went inside or made a noise too close to a window. Any noise near it or movement seen through one of the windows and those inside would frantically try to get out any opening. Luckily for those of us outside the Medical Pod, the windows had bars on them and the door had been securely locked when the injured were taken in.
     Our orders were to keep away from the Medical Pod and keep the inmates as quiet as possible. The inmates were to stay in their 2 man cells, no cage time, no time in the common room. I guess the Justice Department figured this would keep those infected in secured areas. Of course, that means whoever is in a cell with someone who turned would be a sacrifice to keep the rest of us safe.
     The CO's off shift left as fast as our shift had left last night, letting me know just how creepy they considered what was happening. Those with families were rushing home to make sure they were safe, those without families were rushing home to secure in place. I doubted any of them would show up for their next scheduled shift.
     Whoopee! The National Guardsmen arrived. They set up in the Administration Pod in Chief Murphy's office. I guess he didn't need it anymore, anyway. The man in charge, Commander Johnson, questioned all of the CO's on shift about what had been happening and what had been personally observed versus shared second hand information. After making sure of the situation, Commander Johnson informed us lowly CO's that their orders were to open the Medical Pod to take samples from those infected and then to exterminate all those inside the Pod. I shook my head at the stupidity of those giving the orders and watched those assigned to enter the Medical Pod and guard the doors leave the office.
     This brilliant plan went to shit, as the two 10 man teams were quickly overpowered by the sheer vicious natures of the undead freaks. The 7 men on the two doors, 4 in front and 3 on the rear door, could not get the doors secured. This let those in the pod out into the area between the pods; the 15 or so infected in the common room as well as the 7 medical personnel and 3 CO's all infected in the Medical Pod.
     The freed flesh eaters went after anything that moved between the pods. They quickly devoured the 7 guardsmen on the doors and then tried to get to the inmates whose cell windows faced the central area between the pods.
     Commander Johnson, his second in command and his secretary, tasked with recording the mission, were all that were left of the 30 man team from the National Guard. I tried to ask the commander what came next, but he just stared at the screens from the security cameras, unable to tear his eyes away from the flesh eaters eating his team members.  Neither of his subordinates were willing to speak up first, so they all just stood there.

    I asked CO Brown, the next in command here at the Detention Center, what we should do next. He just mumbled about video games and the dead coming to life while staring mesmerized by the same images. Everyone continued to stare while the flesh eaters completed their guardsmen snack, around 20 minutes of chew, swallow and repeat. Commander Johnson pulled himself together and tried to reach his superior officer, both by radio and by phone. No answer on either. CO Brown tried to reach the Justice Department, but all he got was a busy signal. What happened next became the topic of discussion.
     First, we needed to decide what to do about the secured inmates. Should we release the inmates? Or just leave them as they were and leave ourselves? Should we kill all of them, putting them out of their eventual misery? If so, how? Could we afford the time it would take to kill them by baton or knife? Could we afford the bullets it would take to kill them all? We knew that there were around 40 of those things between the pods and we also did not know what we would find outside the Detention Center fences.
     After 2 hours of going back and forth about the fate of the inmates, Commander Johnson decided that he and his remaining team members were not responsible for the uninfected inmates. Their mission was to take samples from those infected in the Medical Pod and exterminate them. I pointed out that his team had not completed that mission and asked if the three remaining team members would finish their assignments.  The commander didn't like being questioned and pushed past me saying they were leaving.
    I asked him "How? The only way out is between the pods and out the main entry gate. You'll have to take out the 40 or so reanimated corpses to get out."
     We quietly argued for another hour before deciding to leave the inmates and save ourselves. I was the one hold out to release the inmates, but the others pointed out that we would have to get them out of the Detention Center and besides, they were criminals. The seven of us armed ourselves with the centers' riot riffles and put on full riot gear, hoping for some protections against being bitten. The guardsmen were also armed with their side arms and we all took batons and knives.  Geared up, we left the Administration Pod as quietly as possible.
     The fighting was worse than I had thought it would be. The cries from the inmates were also harder to listen to than I thought they would be, although they did distract a few of the undead. Still, there were plenty for us to deal with.

     I flashed back to taking down Inmate #9931. It took a lot more effort to take out the brain than is shown on T.V. and in the movies. The skull did not break open as easily as cracking an egg, like Hollywood shows. In reality, it took real effort and multiple blows to take down the flesh eaters. It also takes time. We started with the quieter weapons to draw the least amount of attention from the creatures farther away. It did not take long for them to become attracted to the sounds of us fighting the undead. Those closest to our group began to moan and shamble towards us which drew the attention of the others near them. After that, it was just an endless time of raising and lowering my baton, until Commander Johnson gave the agreed signal that it was time to start using the firearms.
     Time blurred together and it felt like both an eternity and only a minute passed before we were at the door to the Main Entry Pod. Flashes of the dead coming at me, then my arm holding the shotgun and then the heads exploding. Over and over again until time had no meaning. The only thing that mattered was how many freaks were left between us and our destination.
     We went through the Pod and out the gate. Everyone went their separate ways, the guardsmen to one of their vehicles, the CO's to their own vehicles. As I drove away, I couldn't help feeling guilty for just leaving the inmates, but there was no way I could have done anything by myself and the others were not going to take any time to do anything that did not involve saving themselves. Survival is now the name of the game.

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