Introduction
This is compilation
of articles from newspapers and books but most importantly, from a work of
literature dubbed: The Dark Diary.
My name is Professor
Luke Harding and I have put this compilation together to give new light on a horrific
and terrifying past. In reading this, my
hope is that you come to a deeper understanding of the plague that beset our
land, and how it affected both sides of the war.
May we never forget the
darkness in the hearts of men.
Dark Diary Entry 1:
November 1, 2025
I write in this
diary to solidify my sanity in writing.
Many have given in to the mindlessness, have given up on trying, have
lost themselves to the darkness. My hope
is that by writing my thoughts, my life, down in words, I can preserve what
little humanity I have left. Perhaps my
sins can be forgiven when you read my words, but I have little hope. My sins are too heavy for a single soul to
bear.
I don’t remember
much before my turning, I used to be a biologist I think, a physicist, a
scientist of some sort. Things are
fairly hazy, but I’m better off than most.
Those who were maimed too much in the turning or dead too long before
their awakening have trouble with memory.
They are most easily lost to the call of the master. And then many remember, but lose themselves
in their insanity. The crimes we commit
are too much for some to bear, so they simply let go.
I will never give in;
I will write my sins on paper so that my burden may be shared.
Last night we
feasted. Do you know what it is like to
rip a fleshing apart and eat them bit by bit while they cry out in terror? I say fleshlings, for that is what we call
them, but they are in truth, human. But
killing innocent lives is too much to bear so we call them something else,
something to dull the edge. It’s not
like we have a choice you know; when the master calls, we obey. But we see, we feel, we remember all that we
do.
So last night I
killed a young man, thirty or so with blond hair. It was a night raid, as is usual. We entered the sewers from the south of the
city, and entered under the stealth of night.
The humans know thought, so they have traps and weapons readied. So we send the broken first, those immortals
already too far gone to be of much use in combat. The master calls, and they obey. It’s easier to see one of us get shot through
the head than to feast. There is no
choice though, and so I entered a small, quaint home, the broken in front of me
acting as a shield. I grabbed the man
and threw him against a wall breaking his back.
We’re strong, you know. I haven’t
figured out exactly why we gain so much extra strength during the turning. The man fell to the ground and I ripped one
of his arms off, stepping on his chest while he cried out in terror. I only pray that his broken back numbed some
of the pain. He watched as I tore into his
arm, consuming his flesh. I killed him
swiftly once I had regained some of my humanity, and finished devouring the
man.
It is strange that
by feasting on humans, we become more human ourselves. The master keeps us, waiting for days until
our humanity starts to lessen, until the hunger begins. Then he sets us loose on a city, a wild pack
of demons, destroying anything in our way.
It is in that moment
that you realize what you have done, a part of your mind returning to normal,
that the insanity hits you the worst.
Looking down at the man I had broken snapped me last night. I knew I had to either lose myself entirely,
as many have done, or find a way to focus my mind and my thoughts. So I write.
I stole this diary from the man’s house and took it with me as we fled
the city after the raid. Hopefully it
offers me a way to retain my mind, that by reading it when the hunger comes I
can retain my humanity. But I’m not
fooling myself, I can’t stop the master’s call.
When he calls, I will kill.
So we retreated
here, to a cave in the hills, where our base is set up. Humans have vastly underestimated us and our
ability fight. They are learning,
slowly, that they should be very, very afraid.
An apocalypse such as this has always been joked about, but their
culture is their downfall. They see us
as mindless brutes, and while some of us are, they don’t know how we
think. The master is brilliant. His combat strategies have taken over the
entire Western United States. He has
forces entering Mexico and Canada and his main force is pushing slowly across
the U.S. gaining numbers.
Immortals, we are
called. At least the master calls us
that. It’s a ruse of course, we are
nowhere near immortal. We don’t feel
pain, sure, and we don’t rely on oxygen or moving blood to survive, but we can
be killed. I still haven’t figured out
why. What moves our bodies? The master seems to be some sort of advanced species;
he drinks human blood constantly and I imagine it’s similar to eating human
flesh for us. He retains his mind
indefinitely and is stronger and more alive than any of us immortals. Perhaps some link with him keeps us moving,
but I have not figured out what it is.
His commands are
absolute. You can never disobey when he
grasps your mind. He tells us to go, to
destroy, and we obey.
I have now killed
twenty humans. I remember each death,
the look of pure terror in their eyes as I stand over them. Each time as my mind comes to, my animalistic
satisfaction of domination wanes and panic sets in. Regret.
My only prayer is that someday someone can put an end to my misery. For now I kill, and I will write them down in
this book, to give them a memory.
May the living die
in peace.
Rocky Mountain
Newspaper
11-1-25:
Yesterday a horrific
attack took place in downtown Fort Collins.
Over two hundred zombies attacked the city, ravaging and killing nearly
three hundred residents. Now two months
since Z-Day began, the zombie forces have taken over the entire west
coast. Colorado has been one of the key
battleground states in the war against the undead.
The attack was
startling as forces had not yet been seen on this side of the Rocky Mountains. Residents were armed but not prepared for the
massacre that took place. In just two
hours, the undead came, killed and left, leaving behind only a few dead of
their own. Attacks like these weigh down
on morale for Americans around the country, but General Mitchells has responded
by sending some marines from Denver to guard Northern Colorado from another
attack.
He is quoted saying,
“We will not let these atrocities go unpunished. We will deal with these monsters swiftly and
effectively to bring peace to the minds of American Citizens around the country. These monsters can and will be destroyed.”
The U.S. Military is
spread thin with a war against China taking most of our forces overseas. What police and military forces remain in the
United States have banded together and are in the process of forming a new
anti-zombie coalition to stop these monsters here in Colorado.
People around the
community are beginning to pick up the pieces, to band together and console
each other after the loss of so many. We
will fight on, for we are Americans. We
will battle the darkness, the evil that has beset the land and we will prevail!
Message from an
Unknown Operative to General Mitchells
11-2-25
Large forces have been sighted in Roosevelt National Forest. We have located a large contingency of deadheads in a valley. We have not seen any other enemy factions nearby. Sending the coordinates to the strike squads and await orders to engage the target.
I can hear him now. The master is calling to me. I must go. Hopefully my sanity stays with me longer this time. For I will have need of it yet I think.
Large forces have been sighted in Roosevelt National Forest. We have located a large contingency of deadheads in a valley. We have not seen any other enemy factions nearby. Sending the coordinates to the strike squads and await orders to engage the target.
The Dark Diary Entry
2:
November 3, 2025
The master has alerted
us to some fleshling meat coming our way.
He knows of course. He always
knows. All night we built traps under
the ground for when they come. Six tons
of C4 are buried underneath the cavern.
The fleshling warriors will come, and they will die. We are the immortals and cannot be
defeated! Tonight I will write of our
victory, our success against these inferior beings.
The craving is
strong tonight. When we leave out the
back entrance and the fleshlings arrive, we’ll blast the main force to bits and
converge out of the forest around them.
Our sniper squad is stationed up at the top of the ridge overlooking the
cave. What fools to think that we cannot
use their technology! These soft tasty
creatures have no idea what we are capable of.
Their folly is their naivety.
I was given a sword
today. The master sees my strength and
rewarded me for my cunning, for my twenty kills. I am strong, and tonight I will feast on
sweet flesh.
We shall conquer the
world, rising as the next rulers of the planet!
With Master to guide us we… are… IMMORTAL.
Transcript from an
Emergency call to the AZF in Denver
11-3-25
--“Lt. Ryan, Do you read me?
What is your status?
”
--“They… killed everyone.
An explosion took out the main
force, and snipers fired on us from the hill taking out half of the remaining
men.”
--“Snipers?! Don’t tell
me these beasts can use weapons!”
--“We retreated behind a nearby hill but they are converging
fast. I’m not sure we have enough…”
**Multiple Gunshots**
--“Lieutenant! Get
your squad out of there!”
--“We can’t they have us surrounded! We’re gonna try and break through to the
south!”
**end of transmission**
The Dark Diary Entry
3:
November 4, 2025
When I read my
previous entry I am both appalled at my degradation of the mind and fascinated
at the same time. I am almost entirely a
different person. Sadly, our mission was
a success. The master had planned it
perfectly. Two strike squads came from
the south to the mouth of the cave and engaged a small contingency of broken
ones. The explosion left most of the soldiers
in multiple pieces. Our snipers engaged
on the third strike squad sitting out in the forest. From there it was a simple massacre.
I killed five last
night. A young woman with green eyes and
blond hair, an old man with stars on his shoulders, a young man with fiery red
hair, who tried to fight me with his bayonet, another young man who I grabbed
from behind and ripped both arms off at once, and another young lady in white,
a nurse perhaps, that I ate the legs of.
Twenty five now; my new sword has tasted the blood of three of them. I hate this sword, but I cannot throw it
away, for it was a gift from the master.
The only solace I
have in our attacks is my sanity after I feast.
I can almost forget the severity of it after I wipe the blood away and
sit down to write. I feasted on three of
my kills, and my mind seems clearer now than ever before. The difference in my pre and post feeding mental
states is staggering.
I have a friend here
with me now, a younger immortal who I will refer to as bucket. He is fairly far gone so he makes for good
conversation. One way conversation at
least. During the town raid a few nights
back he managed to procure a bucket and seems to enjoy wearing it on his
head. In all honesty it saved him
tonight for I saw three bullets ricochet off of it. He’s an amusing fellow and takes my mind off
my troubles. I asked him where he got
the bucket and he replied: “Hos. Hose.” I think he found it near a faucet on the
outside of a house, it’s hard to say sometimes with his single word
answers. Bucket is fairly strong for an
immortal, last night I saw him pick up two large men from behind and throw them
off a short cliff about thirty feet away.
I was fairly impressed I am not sure I have the strength to do
that. One human, sure I could throw that
far.
I have noticed my
body restructuring itself slowly as well.
As I devour humans, my body seems to adapt, to grow stronger. My muscles have expanded, stretching my pale
white skin and I have noticed an increase in my mobility and strength. What incredible creatures we are. If only we weren’t cursed by our mindless
obedience to our most powerful overlord, and if only we weren’t consumed by the
need to kill, we could truly be a magnificent race of creatures. The decay of mental acumen is troublesome,
however. I think if I was able to feast
each day, I could improve our situation.
As I look around our
camp, I see so much that could be improved.
We could use our more intelligent immortals to create armor and weapons
to prolong our fighting capabilities; we could divide up extra corpses among
our elite soldiers to provide incentive to become the best. I think of these things and it makes me want
to vomit. How can I even contemplate
improving an already deadly plague upon the world. And yet, I am one of them. I kill, I murder, I feast. This is my sin.
Who was I? Before I was so irrevocably torn into this
world by my beloved wife.
…Interesting, I seem
to remember more than before as that thought had not yet occurred to me. Yes, yes indeed. It seems my wife bit me as I blew her brains
apart. How tragic.
I wonder if she was cognizant
of her actions at the time. At least she
is resting peacefully. She should not
have to bear such a burden. So here I
am, with Bucket, contemplating our predicament.
