Engineer Benson - Prologue. Prologue

June 4, 1993 (Friday evening)
I started writing in this thing to document what's happening in this town. My name is Wayne Benson. I live in Rosewood, KY, and do engineering for Knox Construction.

Anyway, I'm lying here in bed, and I can still smell it - even this far away. Mark and Elizabeth can too. It ain't as strong here, but we can all smell it. Though everybody seems to shrug and go on, I ain't ready for this to be the new normal. I'll try renting something in Riverside if this doesn't let up or gets worse.

You ever just feel something's wrong? I've always prided myself on being prepared for about anything, but lately, that need has shot through the roof. This stink doesn't help. It's likely coming from the base, as the smell is worse there, and there has been a lot more traffic in and out of there lately. We've been working Fort Knox up on the escarpment, putting in a new installation for the feds, and that's how I know there's more activity on the base. It's really busy with new trucks in and out and lots of new guys walking around. Guys in white coats.

It has made me update my bag and ensure the pantry has lots of non-perishable food. I've got my home defense system - the good ole Louisville slugger close to hand whenever I'm home too.

I don't know what they're doing, but I don't trust 'em. And I'm gonna be ready if what my gut is telling me comes to pass.

I don't know what's coming, but something is. And it ain't gonna be pretty.

June 10, 1993 (Thursday noon)
KC sent us home. The foreman was sick as hell, and so were a few of the other guys. I feel a little queasy, but overall I'm all right. I've been taking my vitamins and making sure to get all the fruits and veggies I can stand. Martha, the cashier, even asked if I was on a diet today at the store. Got back to my calisthenics and running too. Never know when a man might need to run a few miles straight.

Lots of Rosewood seems to have the crud. About a third of the town is sick, and I hear the same is happening across the county. I swear, it has something to do with the base! I know I sound crazy, so I've not told anybody my theory except Elizabeth and Mark, but I'll be damned if it's not the army messing around with something behind those walls. Also caught sight of a few army guys with their fatigue tops off. Most have a bandaid on their shoulders, right where a guy'd get a shot. Hmm.

My idea to move away to Riverside is a bust. They can't smell this godawful stench, but they have sick folks like we do.

I'll just keep my eye out and make sure I stay healthy. I've convinced Mark and Elizabeth to do the same now. Luckily, they're both okay - same as me, just feeling a little off. But nothing like those who are actually sick.

It's getting to the point where things are closed due to illness. I mean, things we need, like the gas station. It's open today, but it wasn't the last couple of days. I filled up my truck and my gas jugs. You know … I'm gonna make sure my generator is topped off too. I'll go do that now. Hopefully, I won't have more to write about in here, but I have a feeling I will.

June 18, 1993 (Friday night)
At least the smell hasn’t gotten worse over the last week. It’s still there, but not worse. Sad to say, I’m getting used to it. The best way to describe it is like a dead rat in the wall of your house that someone tried to cover up with too much air freshener. Not exactly what I'd call pleasant.

I didn't want to have to do this, but I finally called the EPA last night. Did it from the pay phone near the bank, and didn’t give my name. They’re feds too, but this is their damn job. Maybe they’ll do something about the army and whatever they’re doing at the base. I don’t have high hopes, but we’ll see.

People just aren’t getting better. The sick ones are really sick, and now we’ve got military doctors offering to take the worst off into the base for treatment. These folks don’t have much choice - nobody can afford a hospital stay, so almost all are going.

It ain’t right. None of this is right. I hope the EPA comes and gets to the bottom of this.

June 23, 1993 (Wednesday, late morning)
Wow. I already knew I wasn't, but now I have proof that I'm not crazy. There's absolutely something going on; there's no longer any doubt. I know because the EPA actually showed! Their van got stopped at the gate, and I watched from the construction site with my binoculars. The top of the three-story building they're having us build is a fine place for seeing the gate, and I'm lucky that I took a break to be nosey with the binoculars when the vehicle showed.

The guys at the gate were real unhappy. The EPA has a lot of authority, and I'm pretty sure they should have been let in. After a couple of minutes, some bigwig army fella got called to the gate. The EPA guys gave him some more hell, but they still weren't allowed in. They turned around and left, but I got the impression they were not done trying.

About twenty minutes later, all non-military were ordered off the base - including us. I think I might have kicked the hornet's nest, but I don't give a shit. These bastards are hiding something - something big, and they don't want the EPA there to see it.

Elizabeth asked why I was home, and I told her. Mark is at work, but she wants us all to talk when he's home. They think I'm a little out there with my theories, but she couldn't explain away this one. Not this time. She knows folks who have gotten sick too. She hasn't heard from any of them in days, and they're somewhere on that damn base. She's worried, and she should be.

I'm more convinced than ever. We gotta stick together. I told her to stock up, and she actually listened. She asked for my list of things to have on hand, and she's taking a trip to the store. Mark is a big hunter, so he's got firearms covered and meat in the deep freezer from last hunting season, but there's a lot more they can do to be prepared. Sounds like they're gonna at least do some of my list. It's a start, at least. It's a start.

July 01, 1993 Thursday, (evening)
Mark just told me the phones are down. News says Knox Communications is working on some problem with their system. I pulled out my HAM and set up the scanner to check out the chatter. Damn, there's a lot of it. People are beginning to sense something's off, and there has been a slow-motion run on food and gas. I'm glad the neighbors and I are good in that respect.

I've not been to work all week. KC's contract is "on hold" after the EPA's visit. Apparently, they're not letting anybody who isn't military on the base. I've still made a point to go watch the place. I can't see much other than the gate from my parking spot, but even that is interesting. A van full of guys in CDC jackets showed up, and the boys at the gate let them in like they'd expected them. Not an hour after that, the smell that sits on top of the whole area around the base got WORSE. It almost made me vomit, so I finally left.

Most folks in town are still getting ready for the fourth - buying fireworks, cookout stuff, pop, and all that. I went and picked up a whole case of Roman Candles, cherry bombs, some long-fuse black cat firecrackers, and a box of sparklers. But I'm stocking them. If I have to, I can pull the powder out of them then Mark can use it in his reloader. He already got as much ammunition as he could, but the county is pretty much out of stock now.

I've never seen so many people get sick at once. More and more are getting sent to the base for treatment, and we're not seeing any of them again. The fact that I was so close when the smell got bad bothers me.

I don't want to think it, but Elizabeth ain't looking great and hasn't been for a few days. She says she's fine, but from how Mark looks at her, I can see he's worried. Regardless, I hope she doesn't go to that damn base, no matter what happens, no matter if she's sick or not. I know we'd never see her again if she did.

Okay, I need to stop. Maybe she's just got a bug, and she'll pull out of it just fine. I should stop stressing until I know I need to.

I'm going for a good run to clear my lungs and head. God, I hope Elizabeth is all right.

July 05, 1993 Monday (mid-morning)

Those fucking bastards. Someone told the feds about Elizabeth being sick. The CDC and soldiers came for her - dressed in hazmat suits. I feel so shitty for her. She's just sick, and they treat her like this? Mark was an inch from going to war to keep them from taking her, but after they examined her and decided she needed to leave, she just smiled.

"It's okay, hon. You and Wayne hold down the fort out here, and I'll do the same on the base."

They examined us too. We're free of fever, and I'm almost sure I heard the CDC doc say we were "immune." Immune to what, you dick? I thought about asking that exact question, but maybe it's better not to tip my hand that I know more than they say.

God. They've been gone a couple of hours, and Mark is pacing in the living room. I'm over at their house, trying to keep him level. He wants to go get her. He wants to roll up to the gate with every firearm he's got and go get her.

I can't blame him. If I thought we stood a chance, I'd drive us myself.

The sense that everything is changing is here, and it's pervasive. We live in uncertain times, and even though so much has happened, I feel there's more to come.

We loaded up a duffel each in my van, along with jerky, pop, granola bars, and dried fruit, and I made sure my medical kit is good to go. If shit really hits the fan, we'll need to go get Elizabeth, maybe force ourselves in, so I am pulling the van into the garage. I'm gonna get some mounts welded to the frame so we can bolt metal sheets onto the front. The mounts won't be noticeable until we put the steel sheets on. It comes down to it; they'll need a tank to stop us.

Though, yeah … I know they've got those on the base. Oh well. Only so much a man can do.

Mark's gonna stay with me until this thing blows over. He just looks so lost. God, I hate this. I hate it.

July 06, 1993 Tuesday (noon)

It has all gone to hell. Knox county and a few others are declared within something called "The Exclusion Zone," and evacuations are fully underway. The Army blockaded all the roads. I'm talking guys with guns out, cradled in their arms, not across their backs.

We were told to evacuate. That if we didn't have a fever, we needed to leave. But we can't - Elizabeth is still in that fucking base. Mark went there for her, but they wouldn't let him in, and after a phone call made by one of the gate guards, he was told that Elizabeth was in critical condition but currently stable. That she can't be moved.

I'd avoided doing this for fear of the looks the van would get, but I need to bolt the plates to the mounts now. This feels more and more like a huge thing and like it's gonna get worse. It'll take a couple of hours to get everything mounted and just right, so I should do it now instead of wishing I had later. Maybe I'll just look like a fool for ruining my van.

I really hope so.

July 09, 1993 Friday (1130 AM)

We've been holed up here. Neither of us has been to work, so we've just been reloading 12 gauge shells using Mark's stock of powder and slugs.

Mark had the news going, and this army bigwig named General John McGrew got on the horn. I don't remember exactly what he said, but it was something like, "The flu-like sickness causes high fever and confusion in patients." He also said there were no fatalities in the exclusion zone.

Liar. Fucking LIAR.

I … I watched something horrible. Martha. Sweet, big, gray-haired Martha, the cashier from the store. She was staggering in the street, and I was just about to go see if she needed help when she just … she dove onto a stray dog that got close. She tore it apart with her hands and teeth while it tried to get away. I've never seen anything like it. I wish I could get the image out of my head and forget the cries of that poor mutt.

Confusion my ass. She was a fucking predator. A killer.

This thing is turning people into killers.

Mark saw it too, and we quietly went back inside. We're reloading more shells. We're about out of casings, though, and once that happens, I'll start making pipe bombs out of the gunpowder we've got left.

I worry about him. He has to wonder about Elizabeth, and if she …

No. No. She's fine. She has to be fine.

Okay. I'm logging off this thing to finish the last of the shells with Mark.

God help us.