Was supposed to only be in this shithole of a country for a week, but things never go quite to plan, do they. Boss heard rumors of gang wars picking up, bioweapons being smuggled, all sorts of great stuff. The start of a war, and we’d be the ones to get the best coverage, boots on the ground and all. Who were we to know those damn Macacos would cause an outbreak, like something straight out of those shitty horror flicks. Only, this is no horror, I’m fucking living it, in Brazil, a third-world shithole, surrounded by subhumans turned walking, rotting, subhumans. A short trip to Rio, turned into a much longer nightmare when our escape vessel got sunk. I’m the only survivor, as far as I know, and as far as I care to search. My survival is a greater priority, though, that, and a scoop far greater than anything I’ve ever covered before.
My name’s not too important, but you can call me Joe, Joe Griffith, Freelance Journalist. Try to remember my face from the neck of my rotting corpse you took this recorder from… or when I become famous for escaping this hellhole with the story of the century, I know which is more likely at this point but I would give my left nut not to die in this shithole. A man can dream, eh? So, I’ll be doing these recordings to keep myself sane in this awful place, and to pass the time. Plus, I’ll need a record of my bullshit, now won’t I? Memory is good and all, but sketches and words do better.
After washing up on that shore… some tiny place, I don’t remember the name but I think we traveled through it at some point before everything went to shit? These small towns end up blending together. Anyway, after washing ashore on that beach I wandered into that small town, searching through abandoned houses turned temporary fortresses, rank with the stench of death and stains of fights past. Failed barricades, or maybe these bastards just tore each other apart. Had to take care of a few shambling corpses, but thankfully I still have my old knuckle dusters… that and some worthless BB pistol I found, you think these thugs would be more well armed. I searched through some buildings, houses, a general store, all for something better to defend myself with. Damn locals took all the knives and other sharp objects it seems, all I could find was this long-drained mosquito swatter, but it’ll do. Raided a clinic for some medical supplies as well and went on my way, taking some of the more well-preserved soda and juices I found, with a few bags of chips. Re-killed some businessman and took his briefcase, only useless corporate documents and paper and such, but it’s something to store shit in. Raided some old clothing store too and a few other places, only had an intact backpack and a mango to show for it. Only have some light bruisings and the messy remains of the dead and damned on my clothes too, hope this… disease… or whatever the hell it is… hope it isn’t contagious in that way… however the fuck that works. I can’t read Portuguese all that well, but I remember seeing some signage about a farm to the… North… yeah based on the sun direction at the time, North.
Well I got to that farm, and guess what? More damned undead. More punching and shooting later that damn gun gave out. Cheap-ass piece served it’s purpose, got a better gun now. Found a double barrel that’s not worn to dust lying around which will serve my purposes nicely. Alongside a rubber duck. I think I’ll call him Roger. Found an axe and a Pitchfork to help me out too. A long reach is better for these fucks anyway, I’d prefer to keep out of Arm’s reach. Those farmers were growing some kind of peculiar berry, thought I could just eat some but those things were psychedelic or something. Nearly got killed over it too, made so much noise while the world was spinning and shifting that it lured over one of those crawling corpses. Regardless, I found a car and some basic maintenance supplies, enough to get it up and running, though it took a while. Some workhorse truck, it’ll get the job done, but no windshield so I need to mind my speed. Don’t want to break my fucking sunglasses again because some bird decided to get uppity and fly really low. Took my truck and hit the road, making sure to fill up the truck with the fuel I found on the farm, took a spare jerrycan with me for easier fuel transfer in the future if I can’t get the truck somewhere, or get stranded. You never know.
So I took that truck and traveled east, I think, only to find a police barricade… And a god-damned collapsed tunnel. Seems whatever road goes that way is, frankly, not an option. Guess I’ll have to go back through that town, better than going back to that damned farm. The shambling cops here didn’t prove much of a fight, being no more than walking corpses after all. Found a good bulletproof vest here, shame the radio and such is busted, same with all the other tech here, looted perhaps? Fucking monkeys tear everything apart it seems. Maybe I’ll find something in that little town if I go and take a second look, now that I’m better armed. Think I need to rest a bit first, sun isn't quite up yet despite that long night, and slumming it in a truck is better than napping in the damned dirt.