Day 0 – Before The Outbreak
Jan-Mar 2015

“I know it says Day 0 at the top of this page, but we’re probably somewhere more along day 61 or 63 while I write this down. I’ve already started to lose count of the days, but that isn’t very surprising considering I was already being held captive before everything even began. Hell, that may have even saved my life, if the wreckage I eventually escaped into is any indication. I wanted a story, and it looks like I got one. I just hope I survive long enough to finish writing it – and that someone survives long enough to read this. Since I wasn’t exactly in a place to keep thorough records when things fell apart, I’m piecing all of these accounts together from memory and what shoddy recordings and notations I do have. Some days may be vaguely described, or entirely absent, as I get to portions where I lack information. Luckily, being the journalist I am, I made notes and recordings whenever I had the chance just for this very need. With them, I hope to provide as accurate an account of my experiences during the first months of the Outbreak as I can.

I’m sure I’m not the only one narrating this story, either. My experiences, I’m sure, are being shared by many as I write this down.

First, I guess I’d better introduce myself; I’m Laeira Aventide (pronounced “Ley-Rah”), 27, originally from Maine. I was a writer/author and investigative journalist prior to the Outbreak. I graduated from UC Berkeley twice over – once for a B.a in English Literature, and the second time for a B.a in Journalism. During that time I wrote several novels (only one of which was ever published) and wrote for several online news sites. Eventually, I found my way out of college and, with some help, set myself up in a southern Louisiana town just south of New Orleans looking for my ‘break through’ story, hiring on with the local paper ‘The Observer’. This was where I was, right up until the world fell apart around me…”

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Day 847 – Arrival to Arklay Island
April 7, 2017

I arrived on the island on April 7th, I think, 2017. It’s been roughly 847 days since the Outbreak began. It was already well into night by the time I arrived, probably already speeding towards a rainy morning. I was jumped by a couple of scavengers on the fringe almost as soon as I dragged my ass off the tiny boat I’d used to get across the water, losing most of what I came with and getting beat to hell in the process. I can’t recall how I escaped, or when I found the things I woke up with, or even how I managed to get to where I was when I woke up the next morning, but I’m glad I survived again. I must have a horseshoe shoved up my ass, because there’s literally no reason I should still be breathing right now.

I woke up some time after sun-up in a rusted out junk heap just across the road from The Eights complex on the edge of Arklay town; some douche on a motorcycle was revving his engines around and pissed off the landlady on the wall across the road. Naturally, that attracted a small horde of zombies. Thankfully, they were taken care of by the woman on the wall. Her name turned out to be Darla, and after some talk I was able to go in to The Eights to get some basic medical care and rest I’d brought what little I’d found, and shared it around, to pay them back. Tip #1 of the Zompocalypse: Try never to be in someone’s debt, it puts you in danger of being used and abused. I learned that one the hard way.

I spent the day recovering, so not much else happened after that. At least I’ve got somewhere to hide out for the moment. Tomorrow, I’ll head back out to explore and see what I can find.

• L. Aventide