Group Survivor Count:36
On the first day of the N1H1 outbreak, 75 of us escaped from the Infected. We outran about 67 of our former "fellow man" who'd decided to get the flu injections. The scientists apparently calculated something wrong. The majority of the population have been turned into desensitized meat suits, disregarding their muscular limits. They're not human.
Not for the first time, I've watched as they've done unspeakable things to those of us who are left, I mean really sick things. The only grim silver lining to their modus operandi: They don't leave a body to bury. Otherwise I predict group morale would be floored. Instead, we're still functioning in a low level depression state. Great.
It's 7am, sunrise, in the city that never sleeps. I don't hear anything. A month ago, that would have weirded me out. Now I know it's the mark of 12 hours of relative peace. The infected are hypersensitive to light. They don't sleep. They just hide.
You know what I miss? Aside from cable and communications systems? The Pigeons. Ever since the Infected took over, I haven't seen a single flying rodent. I'm not sure if the Infected are eating them, or they were just smart enough to fly away. Lucky bastards.
Jensen stretched his arms over his head as the rest of the 3 top floors of the16 floor office building woke up. He'd been on watch all night and wouldn't get to sleep now either. Maybe tomorrow.