Edward Mulligan - Fort Citgo

And so the worst has happened. Some untold calamity has befallen the world and turned the population into zombies. Even now I sit blockaded in my tiny fortress, which in reality is the back room of an abandoned gas station, with no company but a record player with a single record, which I have played constantly, afraid of the silence.

Up until now I have managed to remain undiscovered, but yesterday I ran short of water and ventured out into the store to retrieve a few bottles. The display was by the front window and as I passed by the opening I was spotted by one of the creatures. It came at me and I shot my .38 through the glass. It fell lifeless to the ground, but others heard the shot. They have the place surrounded, now, and have already made two separate attempts to get at me. Both times I fought them off, but my supply of ammunition is running low. I have but six shots remaining, five for the enemy…and the last for me. I don’t believe I could stand to have them kill me, to feel their hands upon me, ripping me apart while I still lived. The thought if it chills my blood.

But here they come again, at least a dozen of them, six more than I have shots. Assuming I don’t miss, that will leave six more after the gun is empty…is it possible I could fight the other six without the revolver? We shall see. Taking one’s own life was always taught to me to be a sin. I do have a baseball bat, leaning in the corner. Perhaps that will…

And that’s one. A headshot, the most effective way to bring down a zombie. So far, so good. Damn! Missed that last one. A waste on that last bullet. I should have saved it for myself after all. Too late now. It’s just me and the Louisville Slugger.

They’re all at the door now…

Rev. Theo Lonigan - 1. First Sighting

Dear Devotional,

It was only a matter of time before this happened. Before God's judgment was heaped upon sinful mankind like a bowlful of moldy bran flakes. I have spent my adult life thusfar warning my congregation about the coming judgment...some listened, some did not. And now I find myself alone, living in the basement of my now-empty church, trying to keep quiet and undiscovered.

Discovered by whom? Well, that is the question. I know I am not completely alone, as I hear the intermittent sounds of life outside on the streets. I suppose you could call it life. Perhaps that is something of a stretch. At one point, these...creatures entered the church itself and I only just managed to slip back into the study before they spotted me.

Watching through a crack in the door, I was shocked and sickened at their appearance. They staggered around the sanctuary, with no apparent purpose, searching for...something. Or someone. This question can partially be answered by the strings of rotting flesh hanging from their teeth and the blood caking their mouths and faces.

Most of my time is spent scouring the pages of my King James Bible for references to zombies, searching for guidance and an explanation of what is occuring. So far I have found nothing, but I know the Holy Scriptures will not fail me.

Upton C. Downing - 2. A Noise in the Lobby

Needless to say, I never visited the family. Never celebrated the holidays, never took that first sip of eggnog. Now that I can be truly honest, however, I must say I did not miss any of it. The tedium of yuletide long ago lost its appeal for me and the childish excitement others still experience is quite disgusting, as it should be for anyone of real intellect. Likely all that is changed, of course. There will be no more Christmases and we...I...shall be all the better for it.

I still haven't found another living person, not that I have investigated thoroughly. Having had enough food in my hotel room for a few days, I have yet to venture beyond the lobby. Tomorrow I will be out of provisions and be forced to venture out. God only knows (I speak figuratively, of course) what I shall find. My only hope is that, assuming there are other survivors, whatever calamity has befallen the earth wiped out the least capable among us. How terrible to find a companion only to discover they have the IQ of a boiled cabbage. But, then, that describes most of the population, so I must recognize that my prospects are not particularly rosy. I...

I apologize for the pause, diary, but I thought I heard something down in the lobby. A dull scraping sound, like furniture being moved about. I shall investigate. Perhaps whomever is down there will have food on hand, saving me the menial effort of gathering my own victuals. We shall see.

J.P. Farnsworth - 1. The Cloud

Yo, Diary!

So I'm, like, totally weirded out by this devastation I'm seein' all over the place. Last night I just wandered through the streets, lookin' for anyone to, like...uh, ya know...talk to? And there was, like, fuckin' no one, dude! I think I'm the only humanoid left on the whole fuckin' planet, man. And that's why I decided to start keepin' a diary, even though I always used to say that diaries are for, ya know, dweebs and weirdos. But since I'm all by my lonesome, well, I guess it don't matter none no more anyhow. 'Course, if I'd known what a way I have with, uh, ya know...words, then maybe I would've started writin' sooner.

So anyways, I'm lyin' in bed one night with this blazin' hot chick and we just had the most trippin' session ever. I finally roll over and say, "Wow! That was the most trippin' session ever, right?" And she says, "I've had better," but I know she's just mad 'cause I have a way of castin' a spell over her and she resents my powers.

Anyways, there's a sudden bright light outside and the whole fuckin' room just starts shakin' and shit. And then the night turns totally bright like daytime for a few seconds...then it sorta fades aways. I jump outta bed and break for the window, cuttin' my feet on broken glass ('cause, like, the fuckin' window totally shattered into a gabillion-jillion shatter, uh, shards), and look outside. Everything is quiet except for some car alarms down the street. And then I notice a huge cloud of...somethin' headin' towards me. I don't know what it is, but it kinda freaks me out, ya know, so I grab the chick and head towards the basement. She's strugglin' up a shit storm, tryin' to grab her clothes and stuff, but I manage to push her down into the basement and close the door before the cloud reaches us.

Then I notice somethin' seepin' under the door, like mist or smoke, and I look around for somethin' to cover our faces with. We ain't wearin' no clothes, see, and I don't keep garments in the basement. Then I spot some old curtains hangin' over a window near the back of the room and I rip 'em off the rod.

"Hold these over your face!" I shout. This time the chick (I never learned her name) doesn't argue and we crouch in the corner, holdin' the torn curtains over our faces and tryin' not to breathe.