[CONTENTID1]CHAPTER ONE - THE DIARY[/CONTENTID1]
[CONTENTID2]

A/N: I'll explain some terms first.

The Beginning: refers to the 2019 war between America and ISIS that kicked everything off.
The Raid: began in 2021 and lasted until 2029. A period of time when countries were being overtaken by enemy military, men were killed, women were and children were sold for profit/resources (as slaves).
Doomsday: September 21st, 2029. The day New York was bombed and the virus was first introduced to a mass population. 
The End: April 21st, 2034. The day the last ever radio transmission was made and the entire world went electricity-cold.
Postmortem: Anytime after April 2034.

The Old World: Any time before April 21st, 2034.

I freeze and raised my hand, signalling the men behind me to stop also. I motion for everyone to get down and we slowly lower ourselves to the ground, the sloshy mud swallowing us in. The problem with marshland is that it is loud to walk in, hard to run on and stupid to pass through but we don't have a choice. Our camp, UK004, is running low on food and water, yet again, and it is our jobs as troopers to go out into the hell that is Postmortem and get them those supplies. 

I was born into this world. I don't know how old I am but I know it's something between 21 and 29. I don't know the time or the year, but I know it's getting dark and I know it's now nearing winter, possibly November. There are no calendars and people have been running for so long that by the time camps started building up, it was too late to start counting. I don't know how it all started, not many people do since most of the people who were alive in the beginning are now dead or worse - Infected.

The Infected are vile creatures, they're ruthless creatures with a desire to kill that can never be sated. Some say it all started as a cure for cancer, some say it started as some sort of secret government weapon by the Americans. There is no way to be sure, there are no longer books - if you find one, you're one hell of a lucky bastard - or movies or websites that can be used to verify a theory. The internet was a thing of the past, almost a myth. Some people refuse to believe such a thing could have ever existed. There's no hope, either: if we can't even begin to understand how any of this happened, how the hell can we develop a cure?

It's simply impossible. 

But still, people fight. People fight with all their might in order to survive, in order to reproduce and give this screwed world stronger, faster and smarter humans. We all train to fight from a young age, around five years old (or so we estimate), and when we hit puberty, we start patrolling with the older troopers in order to see the harsh reality with our own eyes. It's mandatory to be a soldier, we can't afford to preserve anyone's innocence. Not the children, not the women, not the elderly.

Everyone is equal.

It also means everyone is colder, too. Over the years as people got familiar with living in Postmortem, they realised they couldn't survive if they maintained their values carried from The Old World. They couldn't hesitate when killing an Infected or a looter, they couldn't hesitate to kill a dog or a cat for food, they couldn't refuse to leave a bitten/scratched loved one behind. They had to toughen up, they had to become dehumanised. Otherwise, they'd die. 

And so, humanity evolved. Or devolved, whichever way you want to look at it. To fight the monsters inhibiting our earth, we had to become monsters too. I knew how to make a clean headshot before I knew not to pee my bed, I knew how to skin an animal before I knew how to hold a conversation. I knew how to survive before I knew how to live. If I have to be honest, I still don't know how to live. I can't afford to live, living means loving which gets you killed. Living means mourning, which gets you killed. Living means singing and dancing, which gets. you. killed.

Surviving is more than enough for me, or for anyone else. 

"Sasha, what do you see?" Vladimir asks in a hushed voice. I don't dare glance at him, I keep my eyes fixated on the moving dot several yards from us. The human body is a wonderful thing: years of walking amongst the Infected forced us to adapt. We can see further, we can hear better, we can run faster and hold our breaths longer, we can lift heavier loads and we can endure more discomfort and pain. Our bodies have evolved whilst our attitudes have devolved. 

But evolution is not restricted to only humans. The Infected have evolved, too. 

And it's terrifying.

"I'm not certain but I think it's an Infected," I whisper back. It's always better to spot the danger and avoid it. Only an idiot walks in guns blazing: one of reasons because guns are very scarce these days. It's smarter to use blades, spears, primitive weapons. They last longer and you can always count on them. That means, however, that you have to get real close in order to make a kill which is exactly why it's better to avoid the threat. "We need to go around."

More tiny dots come into my obscured view but I know in my gut that it's not safe to continue on the same root. I always trust my gut, it has saved me and my men many times. There's a reason I'm second-in-command of the troopers. Well, first now that my second oldest brother has been killed by one of the creatures.

"We don't have time to go around. It's already getting dark, we need to get to that church now," Andrei insistsand this time, I do look back and I pin him with a glare.

"You want to go out there and kill yourself, fine by me. But you don't drag any of us down with you," I spit at him. His jaw clenches and he looks over my shoulder. His eyes suddenly widen and I snap my head back to the front. Running towards us at a terrifying speed, their tongues hanging out of their mouths and their eyes out are over a dozen Infected. ", , ! Get up!" We jump to our feet and I desperately look around for a place to hide. 

"There! That diner!" Viktor shouts and we break into runs towards said building. I glance to my right and see that the Infected are closing in on us and the closer they get, the more of them there seems to me. Fear pushes me on and I quicken my pace, getting to the diner first. I yank the door open and motion for my men to hurry up. 

"Get to the roof!" I order them. Vladimir rushes in, his knife out in front of him in case there are any Infected inside. Following straight after him is Andrei, then Vadim, Boris, Sergei and Oleg. "Viktor, hurry up! Run!" The youngest male, he's around fifteen years old, pusheson, his legs carrying him as fast as they can. "BEHIND YOU!" An Infected lunges at him, taking him to the ground. His terrified scream blast in my ears and I take a step forward to run out to help him when a hand comes