Even as I write, I can feel the simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion -- but I have to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Alma, please believe that what I'm telling you is the truth. The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept these things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the virus we were studying leaked.

All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. This virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life. Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my door like mindless, hungry animals.