The creature known as the “human being” is an endangered species.
We’ve been replaced by the dead. More technically, we’ve been replaced by nanobots that have infected the human body like a virus and assumed total control. We’ll get to that later… Ken Foree once said in the movie "Dawn of the Dead" by George Romero, “When there’s no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.” Well... welcome to my world. The dead not only walk the earth, but they walk in large packs I like to call “graveyards”. I see them from time to time and it’s a horrid sight. Fortunately, they just kept walking.
How did all this come to be? It’s a long story, and one that’s been writing itself for many years right before our eyes. Ignorance is no excuse for having broken the law, and it’s surely no excuse that “We the People” didn’t act quicker to stop the government from doing what they did. The wealthy elites, who once occupied our Government, Hollywood and Silicon Valley didn’t suffer the plight that we "mere mortals" had to endure, and still do. These so-called ‘New World Order’ people have abandoned us and shuttled to the International Space Station (which is bigger and more advanced then they ever told us) in their personal space crafts. I really wish I could have seen that coming.
This is the reality I’m forced to consume daily from blink to blink. Even as I sit here writing in this notebook, on a rainy day in the middle of Woburn, Mass, locked “safely” inside of a Staples Office Supply, I don’t really feel safe.
I can tell you this; there are levels to human suffering that many have never come to know. Even the first to die never knew what hit them and I envy them for it. Other’s didn’t die so quickly, but instead perished in such fashions that would turn one’s stomach inside out. I, myself, feel like I’m fading just a little bit every day. I don’t mind telling you how lonesome and isolated I feel, nor that I often think of killing myself, yet, in the last few months that I’ve been trapped here, I never could bring myself to do it. It seems the power of self-preservation amplifies to the degree that one’s potential for death is imminent. I guess the other half of the equation is the lack of a painless means to do it. Staples doesn’t sell guns or cyanide and though I’ve thought of drinking bleach or killing myself with a letter opener, neither seemed to spur my muscles into performing the task.
I live in a dark world now. Everything has changed and I’ve been alone to brew in the suffering, for months. That doesn’t mean I am alone, it just means that I have no allies in this mess, thus far. Just outside the front door of this building I’m hunkered down into is a world of predators that are both dead and alive. I fear them, but perhaps worse as I sit here and think… I also dread the idea of dying in here alone and without a fight. I suppose now that I’m writing in this notebook, I’m not truly alone anymore and this makes me feel better already.
Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marcus Feng and I’m a 2nd generation Chinese-American, not that it matters anymore since we’ve all been reduced to one of two categories; living or dead. Everyone who’s known me well enough has referred to me as “Mac” which is short for MacGyver. I suppose I’ve earned that nickname due to my ability to jerry-rig just about anything. I graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 2018 and since then I’d been tinkering around in my parents’ basement here in Woburn, MA. I don’t think they made it, but I can’t know for sure. I was able to send my father a text message telling him to lock up the house because I wasn’t coming home, but he never wrote back. A day later, there was no more cell service.
For two months now, I’ve been trapped inside Staples and mostly just focused on being rescued. No such luck. The air in here is getting bad. The plumbing stopped working last month, and I'm thankful the toilet flushed as long as it did or the place would smell much worse than it already does. I had to empty out a storage closet to dispose my waste. There’s a water drain on the floor that I’ve been peeing and dumping into, though I’m not sure how much room is left down there. I’ve taken steps to circulate the air in here, but every so often the wind carries a putrid stench inside here and there’s nothing I can do to avoid it. I guess since it’s raining today that it might be okay for me to open a few of the peepholes and let some fresh air through. If I really wanted to, I could take apart a few of the electronics in here and wire up some of the laptop batteries to create a regenerative power supply that would energize the central air unit, but that would make noise and I don’t want anyone (or anything) to know I’m in here.
It took me weeks to fortify this place. The entrance of the building consists of giant glass windows and doors. Locking them up wasn’t a problem and using the many desks they had proved easy enough to stack up and rig against the glass. Of course, if anyone walked by and saw that the windows were blockaded with desks, they’d know people were inside. So, before I rigged them up, I used the ink from the printer cartridges and painted the windows black so that nobody would take notice of the wooden reinforcements behind the glass. I even placed a “For Rent” sign on the door outside to give the impression that the building was empty. So far it's been effective.
The problem now is, it’s been months and I’m pretty much out of food. I’ve been eating what’s here and believe it or not, it’s been sufficient. I’ve discovered that Staples stores have a plethora of snacks, water and candy among other things, but we’ll get to that later. For now, I want to write for the sake of writing. It feels good, almost like I’m having a conversation, something I’ve sorely missed since the world fell apart.
For some time now, I’ve been staring at these notebooks and debating if I should record my daily endeavors and plans into them. Today, I made the choice. I think it’s important for my mood and sanity. My idea is to keep an account of everything that happens henceforth, but also, to rid myself of the heavy grief which I’ve accumulated the last few months. I should also like to explain exactly how it is we got into this very sad state of affairs. Lastly, I plan to keep track of my inventory and chart out my battle plans for movement. It is a certainty that I’m going to have to exit this place sooner or later and currently, I don’t have a solid plan. I haven’t been able to think clearly. Probably because of a crap diet, anxiety and isolation… typical end of the world symptoms. As a remedy to the anxiety and isolation, I just need to get some things out of my head. Food, I’ll figure out later.
At this time, the state of the world at large is unknown to me. I have several peepholes which look out into the parking lot, but thus far, I’ve seen just a few graveyards of fleshbots roam by, but none have attempted to penetrate this building. Sometimes, I hear living people kick at the door, but no one has made their way in, thankfully. Today I can hear the rain stomping on the roof, but because of the drones, I don’t go up there. At least not yet. Soon I’ll have no choice I’m afraid. Oh, I didn’t mention drones? They’re everywhere and they apparently watch for us living people and then herd the fleshbots toward us. They must be controlling them from space, or maybe there’s a fortified tower set up somewhere. I really have no clue. All I know, is don’t let them see you.
Now, let me tell you the reason I’m here. The date was March 17th, 2020, Saint Patrick’s Day on a Tuesday. What was supposed to be a normal day of dressing in green and drinking to sickness turned quickly into the end of days. As a matter of fact, I’m still wearing my green polo shirt and black pants. Had the day gone as planned, I’d have been at Crossroads Irish pub in Boston throwing darts and drinking pints of green beer with old friends… and Kimberly, but alas, things didn’t go down that way. Instead, I was here, at Staples, shopping for a new printer. At about 3pm I heard police sirens wailing, ambulance sirens wailing, firetruck sirens WAILING! I looked around and everyone’s phones were out. I took my phone from my pocket and the notifications stacked 99+ deep from Twitter, Facebook, Text and Voicemail. Everything I read contained stories about millions of ravenous human beings tearing people to shreds all over the world. Then videos of space shuttles on all the coastlines were seen blasting into space. Then the store became a state of pure panic. Everyone in Staples bolted outside to their car and I was left standing there alone. It took me a moment to grasp the situation. I thought I was dreaming. Then I heard the angry voices, the revved-up engines, crashing vehicles, gun shots and finally… the screaming.
I had a single shouting thought hammer my senses; Stay here… lock the door!!!
So that’s what I did.
I can’t tell you how lucky I feel to be alive, and yet, at the same time, I feel dreadfully unhappy. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a chance to sit down and think. Right now, I need to get the air circulating in here and then I need to start figuring out a plan. I need to get to my parents house and see if they're okay. Then I need to get to Boston and find out if Kimberly is okay. Her last message to me via text is strange... She texted me at 2:12pm before I got into Staples "I turned them down. Find me at Crossroads" and when I wrote back, "Huh?" she never replied. I really should have gotten the hell out of here long ago and gotten my ass to Boston, but... I think I would have died, or maybe, I was just too afraid. Now I kind of feel depressed. Kim is a marine-biologist and twice as smart as I am. My hope is that she is safe and knows that if I can get to her, I will. I really have to figure this out... fuck.
I'll be back later. I promise.
Read the next chapter HERE