James Williams

James Williams was the first survivor I met after the task of chronicling the stories fell to me.  We first met shortly after the outbreak, when I was walking down the road and he was returning from a supply run.  I offered him the same deal I offer to all.  A can of soup in exchange for his story.  He gladly accepted.

One my first visit, he invited me in to his safe-house where we sat and he told me his story.

I was a construction worker before the outbreak.  Work had been a bit light lately, but my wife, Jessica, still had her job at the hospital.  I was at home the day the first cases were reported.  She came home that night with a bandage on her arm.  She said she was bit by a deranged man.  He had attacked the owned of Pizza Whirled when he was taking out the trash.  They thought he was just disillusion and brought him to the hospital for treatment.  She was taking his blood, when, as she told me, his hands literally tore at the restraints and he lunged for her.  An officer shot him several times, but he managed to scratch her arm pretty badly before he went down.

The next day, she woke feeling nauseous.  She called in sick to work, but midway through the day, they called and needed her.  There was rioting in the streets and the hospital was in need of help.  I told her not to go in, but she did.  She came home that night, exhausted and feeling a bit sicker.  She promised she wouldn't go back in, and after eating some Soup, she went to straight to sleep.  I was about to join her, when I got a call.  There was an overturned Semi on the road and they needed to clear it, but didn't have any crews.  The pay was triple the usual amount, and all I had to do was direct traffic while they used a crane to move the semi off the road.  I was hesitant to go, but it turned out, that if I had gone to sleep, I probably wouldn't have made it through the night.

It was close to hell getting to the site, there were cars on the side and in the middle of the road all over, and people were fighting in the streets.  There was broken glass, fire, and I even heard a few gunshots.  I thought it was just rioting, because of the attacks, but I was wrong.  When I got to the location, I saw my boss Steve, who had called me, kneeling over someone on the ground, both covered in blood.  I turned on the brights, and he turned to face me.  His face was covered in blood and he had chunks of intestines in his hands.  He had this vacant expression that was like he wasn't really there.  He slowly stood up and started walking towards me arms out stretched.

I wasn't going to hang around and find out what he wanted, so I put the car into reverse and drove off, top speed.  I didn't know what was going on, but this wasn't rioting, this was something else.  As soon as I got home, I went to the garage and took my pistol out of my toolbox.  I hadn't even used the thing more than a few times since I bought it, but I thought I would need it.  I had half a box of ammo, but I figured that would be enough.  I went inside to go get Jessica and tell her what happened.  I thought if we got in the car and drove, we might be able to get to West Point and find some help.  But when I entered the bedroom, I knew I wouldn't be going anywhere.  

There she was, standing up, but skin all pale.  She turned to me, and I saw that her once beautiful brown eyes were now grey and clouded.  She looked at me with that same empty look Steve had given me, and started walking.  I tried talking to her, to get a response, but she just moved closer.  Eventually, she lunged and took me to the ground.  She started moving faster than I had seen her move ever before, clinking her teeth trying to bite me and trying to claw at me like nothing I'd ever seen.  She seemed like a wild animal.  Eventually, I roller her over and accidentally broke her arm.  It didn't even phase her.  I stood up and moved to the corner of the room.  She just crawled toward me, with her one arm all twisted sideways, not even realizing it.  I knew what I had to do.  I took the pistol out of my pocket and loaded it.  Then, I fired a shot and hit her in the back.  It didn't even phase her.  I fired 3 more shots before I hit her in the head and she stopped.   I know I did a horrible thing, but I can't see her as having wanted to continue living like a monster that way.

This concluded our first visit.  I tried to give him the food, but he refused, instead thanking me for the chance to tell his story.  I encouraged him to write his future experiences down, and that I would give him food next time I was nearby in exchange for them.  He told me he would.  I stopped by a week later, and his home was deserted.  I went inside, and found no source of a breach, but a few pages of writings on the table.  2 days after my visit, he was out scavenging for a shovel when he ran into a small group of zombies.  He was able to fight them off, but got banged up pretty badly, and scratched more than a few times.  He wrote that he felt fine and didn't think he was infected.  His next entry said that he had woken up feeling sick and had spent the day making and eating soup.  For his last entry, he wrote that he was sure he was infected and wouldn't survive much longer.  He gathered up all his strength to write his final entry and do what he needed to do.  His plan was to go out and try to take down as many of them as he could.  Since he didn't expect to come back, he wrote that he hoped I was the one to discover his journal, and he thanked me again for the chance to tell his story.  He finished up telling me that I was welcome to whatever supplies of his I needed, and that he wouldn't be coming back.

Foreward

To whom it may concern,

Within these pages, are the only record of the survivors of the Undead Apocalypse who lived in Knox County Kentucky.  These records are assembled from interviews with survivors and diaries they kept.  While the danger is over, it is the hope of us all, that those who did not survive be remembered.

As for myself, I was also a survivor living in Knox County.  And while I am not the first to chronicle these stories, I hope that I will not be the last.