A note found pinned to a bulletin board near the corner of Cornelia and Broadway:

30 (???) October 2014

My name is Thomas Micha... Tommy Murphy. I am was a mechanic at Dawson's Garage.

Most people call me Murph.

Most people.

I'm starting to think that there ain't many of those left.

Right now, all I've got giving me any hope that, somewhere out there, there are other people... normal people that remember being people, not like the screamers that most of them have seem to become... all I've got is a wounded bounty-hunter named Mac and that old guy from the TV church shows, Father Ted, and of the two of them, only Mac really calls me Murph... Father Ted usually just calls me "son" or, every now and again, Tom...

There used to be more of us when all of this started. Hell, how long ago was that, anyway? Hours? Days? I'm so tired I can't even begin to try and frame it... Seems like a lifetime ago that I got a burr in my butt and decided I wasn't gonna rot in the basement of O'Brian's... that I'd rather take my chances out here, trying to find someplace where all of THIS isn't happening. A place that was safe... maybe even with other people... people that didn't want to eat you, anyway... S#!t!...There were six of us not too long ago... Started out with me and those five poor souls that were damn fool enough to follow me out of Patty's basement...

There was Jake... Hammo, I think was his last name... some kind of pro soccer player or something, I guess... when he came into the pub the night the world went nuts, there were folks falling all over themselves to get an autograph or a picture... He took a bite from a screamer and buried a hatchet in Mac's chest an hour or so later... He ran off howling the last I saw of him... Can't say if he's dead or alive for sure... which ever... he ain't Jake Hammo, any more...

That's when we picked up Father Ted... when Jake geeked out on us... His yowling drew in another pack of screamers and, if it hadn't been for him and that elephant gun of his, I'm sure we'd have been done... He's a bible thumper... chapter and verse guy... but I'm glad the old guy's still kicking, anyway... he's managed to keep me sane some, I think...

Alaster... never did get that kid's last name... he was a carpenter... doing some work for Patty when s#!t went downhill... an alcoholic, too, I think... I don't know, the kid had issues all around I think... Wanted to kill him myself once or twice... Doesn't mean he deserved what he got... Makes me wonder if Jake wasn't the lucky one. There wasn't enough left of Alaster to have... turned (???)...

Makes you wonder if it's better to take a bite and live a while longer... become a screamer, yourself, maybe... or are you better off being eaten alive... it's over quicker I think... but better?

Emily thought so, I guess... She was a med student... not sure exactly how she ended up at O'Brian's that night but she did... and before we got out of the basement... maybe even before... she came down with pneumonia... we did end up raiding a pharmacy and getting her some meds that might've helped but... the screamers got her before the pneumonia... she just couldn't... keep up anymore... I think she let them get her but... I don't know...

I don't want to know, I guess...

Mac probably doesn't, either... I hope he was still high enough on pain killers not to remember much of that...

Mac... Adrian MacGregor... part time stunt man, part time bounty hunter... kind of a weird guy, I guess, but reliable enough up until Jake axed him. The wound was pretty bad and, to be honest, I thought it might be more merciful for him... hell, for all of us... if we'd left him behind... He's coming around pretty good, though, and that wound seems to be mending alright... I'm glad... I like this guy... Like I said... reliable....

That Renn-Faire Knight guy... Brian... Lord God, let that man have survived the onslaught he withstood for us... If there was ever a true knight in all the world, it was that man...

And then there was Amber...I think I was in love with Amber even before all this s#!t.... I was supposed to find her son... Josh.... then we were gonna find Mickey and we were all going to go to Chuck E Cheese... I... hope I can find Josh... and God, PLEASE, Mickey... I'll still take them to Chuck E. Cheese... Amber won't be going... I... had to... end it... for her... I...

[Illegible}

We're still heading for the harbor, I think... Me, Mac, and Ted... Hoping to find a boat, maybe, and at least get far enough out on the lake where the screamers can't get to us... regroup a little...

[Illegible]

I'm Tommy Murphy... Just a dumb mechanic from Dawson's Garage... one-time Sergeant in the U.S. Army... I was just a mechanic there, too... the only action I ever really saw was in Iraq way back during the Gulf War when our unit took a hit from insurgents... I ain't no hero... Just a survivor... for now......

If you're reading this, know that we're out here... and there's safety in numbers...

The first one of the group to fall had been Emily.

Murph knew in his heart that, if he lived through all of this, if the world didn't completely come to an end, that memories of the girl would likely bother him for the rest of his life.

People often spoke about the death of a young person as a tragedy, how so much potential had been wasted... and in this kid's case, such sentiments were very accurate.

She'd been smart, been resourceful, and would have been useful, what with her actual medical training. Mac probably owed the girl his life, as far at that went.

But she'd just been so weak, so pale. The cough had gotten steadily worse back at O'Brien's until it was likely full pneumonia, and the meds they'd pilfered hadn't had time to take effect. When the screamers had rushed out of the grocery store, terror had gripped the girl as she'd left them all behind in a dead run.

That run had really taken it out of her, though. She had gone terribly pale, and her expression had changed to one of abject despair. Probably some guilt of her own at leaving Mac behind like that.
Those final moments on Cornelia, when the screams had come pouring down the street from both ends, Emily had given up. Murph could still hear her little moan of despair, could see in his mind's eye how she only took a couple of serious strides before stumbling and falling to the street.

He'd wanted to turn back for her, but there just wasn't time. Amber had needed him, wouldn't let anyone else touch her. It was all Father Ted could do to keep the wheelbarrow holding the semiconscious Mac rolling down the street, and there would be no way the evangelist could pull the wounded man out by himself in time to get him through that doorway before the screamers were on them.

And so, Tommy Murphy had left that girl to die... though deep down, he wondered if she hadn't simply chosen to go out that way.

The mechanic remembered the three barks of the .357 as the creatures washed over Emily. At the time, he'd sincerely hoped that the last shot had been a self target - it would have at least been easier that way - but the blood curdling screams that followed proved that the girl had made a legitimate final stand.

Murph found those screams returning when his eyes were closed. He honestly wondered if they would ever completely fade.

They made it to the doorway with no time to spare. Father Ted had indeed not been up to the task of hauling Mac out of the wheelbarrow by himself, and Murph had been forced to grab the bounty hunter in what surely had to have been a painful grip as the two of them manhandled his semiconscious form through the door just ahead of the screaming horde. Murph was certain that it had hurt, maybe even set the man's healing back a bit... but that had to have been better than the alternative.

It had taken the combined strength of Murph, Alaster, and Sir Brian to force the door shut and hold it long enough for Father Ted to bar it against the onslaught outside. Even so, they eventually did get the door fully secured, though it was hours before the screams outside had subsided enough for the survivors to rest.

The survivors had found themselves in a small apartment building which seemed secure; the windows had burgler bars, and the other two doors had been similarly barricaded. There had been some provisions left behind by the earlier occupants; never in the history of mankind had cold beanie weenies, canned tuna, and lukewarm crystal light tasted so good.

Sadly, Alaster had not left his foolishness outside. After the evening meal, Murph had been preoccupied with Amber and trying to coax her into letting the dead child go. Father Ted had fallen into an exhausted sleep while sitting up, Mac was still drifting in and out of consciousness, and Brian - an awkward stranger - sat by himself. None of them thought to look after the carpenter (who, truth be told, was old enough to look after himself). The screams had been the first indication that something had been wrong.

As near as Murph could tell, the wannabe drunken fool had taken it upon himself to explore every nook and cranny of the building - all alone - and had been surprised by one of the screamers when he opemed a bedroom door. Murph heard it scream as it pounced, then heard Alaster's own screams as he had been pinned beneath it.

Unfortunately, the moron had been two floors up; even though Murph had taken off at a dead run, there was nothing he (or anyone else) could have done. The SLP roared in the mechanic's hands to end the zombie as it straddled the prone form of Alaster, but the damage had been done; the man was gurgling, blowing bubbles in his own lifeblood from a ruined throat. The panic in the young man's eyes sickened Tommy Murphy, but the only thing to do for him was to dispense a little mercy in the form of a ten gauge slug.

Just like that, another life had ended in a brutal, senseless fashion. Murph had become to be numbed by the horror of it all.