The Zombie Effect, Survivor’s Log – Entry #3

 Date: November 26, 20… [signal distortion] Entry by: Jeremy Quin, Age 13

[Recording initiated…]

On the walk home today the world was different. Edward kept saying that finals had everyone stressed, but the walk home proved otherwise.

Change of Plans

The main road was a graveyard of machines. Mr. Castanons truck idled in the driveway half packed with blood streaks on the concrete surrounding it. And the people… they weren’t walking right. Too slow. Too heavy. Like gravity had doubled just for them, dragging their bodies down inch by inch.

I froze at the corner, watching them shuffle past. My instinct screamed to run, but my training whispered otherwise. ROTC drills at school taught us discipline: observe first, act second. So I stood there, forcing my breath steady, cataloging every detail—the tilt of their heads, the slackness in their arms, the way their eyes didn’t seem to focus on anything at all.

I know I’m not built for fights. I’m the smallest in my class, the weakest in my family. Edward’s stronger, Mara’s faster. But I’ve got my brain, and I’ve got training. They taught us how to march, how to hold formation, how to keep calm when chaos breaks loose. And tonight, chaos was spilling into the streets.

Crossing the park, I kept my pace measured, just like drill. Don’t sprint, don’t stumble, don’t look like prey. The swings creaked in the wind, empty, moving on their own. No kids. No laughter. Just silence.

Ground Zero Day 1

Main road out of town is probably blocked.

Dad has contingencies. We WILL make it out of the city in time, we have to.

Military protocol would be to carpet bomb the whole valley. Assuming the military still functions.

No time to assume. Just keep moving forward.

By the time I reached our block, my pulse was hammering, my hands slick on the straps of my bag. I wanted to bolt for the door, but I forced myself to walk steady. Dad always said: discipline beats muscle every time. I hope he was right.

So I logged this. Every car, every backpack, every broken movement. If this outbreak spreads, someone will need records. Someone will need proof that it started in daylight, not in shadows.

I may not be the strongest, but I’ll be the one who remembers.

[Recording terminated…]