On February 1, 2026, an outbreak called the Yellow Fungus emerged, releasing spores that could transform any living being it touched into a mindless zombie driven to attack others.
The fungus is said to spread through the air, and once someone inhales the spores, they have around 12 hours before turning.
Its origins are rumored to trace back to the Amazon, where a mycologist discovered it and named it "Ochra Mycelia." Initially, it was meant to create drugs to boost brain activity and combat neurodegeneration. It was supposed to be a cure.
After the lab experiments, they developed a variant called "Ochra Vitae" to test on humans. Unlike the original strain, which was easily destroyed by the human immune system, this version could infect human hosts. Although it was a sub-strain of the original brain fungus, it interacted with the human immune system in a completely different way.
Soon, the trial day arrived. They set up their facility in Patea, located in the Taranaki region of New Zealand. By New Year's Eve, the setup was complete, and the trial was set to begin the following day.
I completely forgot to mention what happens when someone gets infected—there are stages.
In humans, the infection progresses through specific stages:
Stage 1: Yellowing eyes, mild fever, metallic taste.
Stage 2: Headaches, compulsive behavior, loss of emotional response.
Stage 3: Muscle spasms, bleeding gums, yellow threads visible under the skin.
Stage 4: Death, with reanimation occurring within 2–12 hours depending on temperature.
Final Stage: The infected becomes a Thrall, semi-aware and driven by fungal impulses.
During a heavy storm, a ship battling rough ocean waves encountered serious difficulties. The storm led to an accident involving the cargo of a vessel from New Zealand, owned by the company Gen-Tech. The damaged ship eventually docked at the Port of Manzanillo, Mexico.
From there, the damaged cargo ship offloaded several compromised containers. One of them marked with false biotech codes was looted by smugglers operating out of the Manzanillo black market. Inside were sealed bio-canisters containing samples of Ochra-Vitae and its fungal cousin, Orcha Mycelia.
When the smugglers broke one open, it unleashed a yellow spore cloud. Invisible to the naked eye, these hardy fungal spores could linger in humid air for hours. Unaware they were now infected, the smugglers headed inland to Mexico City, unknowingly spreading the fungus through trade routes and crowded urban slums.
Since Ochra-Vitae spreads through prolonged spore inhalation rather than direct contact, the infection went unnoticed at first, often mistaken for a new flu strain or mold allergy. Within days, the spores had infiltrated ventilation systems, subway tunnels, and vehicle interiors.
As the infected began experiencing neuroinflammatory symptoms hallucinations, violent impulses, loss of pain perception, they were smuggled across the Texas border by human traffickers.
From there, showing no clear signs of illness, the hosts integrated into cities like Houston, El Paso, and San Diego. In these new environments, the fungus flourished in damp basements, air vents, and aging construction zones—hidden spaces where it could take root and spread unnoticed, transforming cities into latent powder kegs.
The day arrived when the people of New York were informed about the outbreak. It was February 1st, 2026.
That day was my niece's birthday. I went to check on her, and she mentioned wanting a kitten for her birthday. I got her a Ragdoll, white as snow with black ears and striking blue eyes. He was incredibly handsome, as cats tend to be. I couldn't wait to see her reaction to the little snowball.
She tore open the box like a tiny ferocious beast—what is my brother teaching her? I'll have to show her how to be gentle. Thankfully, Ragdolls aren't easily scared. When she saw the kitten, she hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her face as she cried, saying he was too cute. And he is—after all, all cats are cute. She named him Marshmallow, fitting for his soft and fluffy appearance. But what a common name! Her vocabulary needs some work. What exactly is my brother teaching her, I wonder?
"Jonas, damn it, Jonas! What are you doing, man?" A man wearing glasses turned abruptly, his eyes meeting a familiar face filled with urgency.
Jonas paused his writing and, addressing the person in a gentle voice, said, "Just remembering the past, Cath. I enjoy writing now; the doctor said it's good for me." Cath was visibly surprised by the change in Jonas. "Alright, man, whatever you do. Just deal with James and his goons—they're causing trouble for the supply scout."
Jonas smiled and resumed writing. Cath remained standing, but when she realized Jonas wasn't interested in further conversation, she shot him a glare before leaving, muttering, "What happened to that bastard now!"
Catherine is upset because she's worried about the supplies, but it's fine—she's a good person, just a bit foul-mouthed. Where was I? Oh, right. Marshmallow bonded really well with my niece, even though their first meeting almost ended in disaster with that tight hug. Still, it's great for her to make a new friend. Speaking of friends, I've made so many, even more than when the world was still normal. Cath, Noah, Ethan, Ryan, Liam, Emma, Chloe, and Maya. I just hope they won't be too heartbroken when they find out I'll soon be joining Ethan and the others.
You might be curious about what happened at the birthday party with my brother, his wife, their daughter, my niece and even Marshmello. I haven't shared it yet. Let's save that story for another time, and instead, I'll tell you about that dreadful day I can never seem to forget.
While scavenging for fuel for my Mary, I was attacked by a vicious brat. That little imp fought like a rabid dog, and for a second, I thought he was a zombie. But of course, he wasn't—otherwise, he wouldn't have cried when I banged his head on the pole. Well, I disciplined him. He should be grateful and not try to kill me if he ever gets this diary. Be grateful, Derick.
This story isn't about Derick, actually, it's about his foolish, despicable brother. That son of a **** was a psychopath. I did everything I could to avoid being like them, but in the end, I had no choice. Yes, you guessed it right—I killed Derick's brother, Charles.
After I taught Derick to be grateful, I left him. There were no dead around, and the little imp looked well-fed and clothed. My guess is he's already in a faction, and a decent one at that. Maybe I was wrong to think them decent in that moment. Decent wasn't something they were they might not even know the meaning of the word. Anyway, let's get back to how I killed that psychotic bastard.
When he discovered I had harmed his little brother to impart some divine knowledge, he became enraged and came to kill me. My precious Mary was almost taken from me. Oh, you don't know Mary? She's my best friend and my only love. She takes me places—she's my ride. Charles found out about my functioning ride from his brother and tried to take it away. The bastard even claimed it was fair, saying that since I hurt his brother, it was right to take Mary from me. That's how my first kill happened—I shot him down with a Remington M24. You want details? Sure, I can recall that terrible day for you. Actually, maybe it wasn't my worst day. No, my worst day would be February 1st, 2026, when I lost everything.....