July 15:

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3:15 p.m. Tommy Walter got a severe sunburn, I treated it with aloe.

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5:32 p.m. Mary Klein with a rash, hydrocortisone cream applied. She claims she got it walking between Whispering Pines and the creek. Sending counselors to ensure there is no poison ivy.

 

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July 16:

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8:55 a.m. Poison ivy has been uprooted, and campers warned.

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9:18 a.m. Maria Garcia fell on the lower ropes course, cutting her hand. Disinfected and wrapped the wound. She’s coming back tomorrow to ensure it stays clean.

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12:00 p.m. Mary Klein’s rash is shrinking, and I reapplied the hydrocortisone cream.

 

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July 17:

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8:55 a.m. Mary Klein’s rash is gone.

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9:07 a.m. Maria Garcia has effectively kept the wrap clean. Rewrapped it anyway.

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11:48 a.m. Terry Walter came in complaining of an upset stomach. I gave him a Sprite then I sent him on his way. Probably just homesickness.

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3:25 p.m. Sarah Miller swallowed lake water, and I gave her an antibiotic. Truly only God Himself can help her from that water.

 

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July 18:

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1:13 p.m. Francis Franklin in hysterics about an animal that bit him, couldn’t give a proper description. The bite itself looked like nothing I have ever seen before. Once Mary Anne (his counselor, who claims to have been watching him) calmed him down, he described the “beast” as a mixture of a lizard and wolf. Disinfected the wound and gave him some ibuprofen. Counselors are going to go search for the animal and notify the DNR.

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3:45 p.m. Sophie Davis stung by a bee. Removed the stinger and applied hydrocortisone cream.

 

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July 19:

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7:04 a.m. Francis Franklin came back complaining the bite is hot and throbbing. It is, in fact, red and weeping. Disinfected it, again, and gave him more pain meds. Told him to come back in an hour.

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8:30 a.m. Francis Franklin still has not returned.

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9:14 a.m. Francis Franklin threw up in the dining hall during breakfast. Took the golf cart to retrieve him. He’s pale, clammy, and shaking. His temperature is 84 degrees. There must be a malfunction with my thermometer. He’s in bed here with heaters on him. His leg is slightly swollen, and the pus is no longer weeping; it is oozing.

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10:15 a.m. Francis Franklin's temperature is 90 degrees.

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10:24 a.m. Henry Thompson claims he has an upset stomach. He seemed perfectly healthy. He was supposed to be at crafts. Most likely an excuse to skip crafts.

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10:45 a.m. Francis Franklin threw up again. Blood in bile. Tried calling for an ambulance, but my phone isn’t getting a signal. The landline seems to have been disconnected too. Sending Francis Franklin in the camp car to deliver him to a hospital. Mary Anne has volunteered to drive him. It’s the least she could do since this was all caused by her negligence.

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12:58 p.m. Mary Anne still hasn’t returned. Phone lines are still useless.

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1:18 p.m. Henry Thompson threw up. His temperature is 87 degrees. He sat next to Francis at

breakfast.

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1:21 p.m. Wanda Lewis has an upset stomach. Keeping her here for observation.

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1:43 p.m. Mary Anne and Francis Franklin are nowhere to be found. Henry Thompson has

thrown up again with blood. We have no more vehicles to take him to town. Phone lines are still

down.

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4:32 p.m. In the past three hours, George Maddox, Natalie Nguyen, and Patrick Torres all threw up at different places at the camp. We’re running out of space, moving to Cedar Ridge cabin. The blue group is moving to Whispering Pine with the green group.

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4:33 p.m. Wanda Lewis is gone. Any spare counselors have been sent to search for her. She was here when I left to get George. After the previous log update, I went to move her, but she disappeared.

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4:56 p.m. All of the sick have been moved to Cedar Ridge. Five more campers have fallen ill. Counselors are bringing mattresses from storage in anticipation. Still no Mary Anne or Wanda.

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5:20 p.m. Cook Nancy—our only cook—reported a stomach ache.

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5:45 p.m. Cook Nancy has thrown up.

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7:00 p.m. We can’t get in contact with the camp director. With Nancy ill, I am the only adult on site. I am taking control of this outbreak.

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8:00 p.m. They found Mary Anne’s vehicle crashed into a tree, completely deserted. Blood on the airbag and driver’s seat, but none in the back where Francis would have been sitting. Hopefully, he is alright. Unfortunately, I can’t provide a proper diagnosis of Mary Anne’s injuries from just the blood splatter, but I can speculate that she had some abrasion prior to the deployment of the airbag. We haven’t told the campers, but some of the counselors are starting to get antsy about these discoveries. There are only two full days left of camp before the parents come back. We just need to keep everything under control for two days. I need to keep everything under control for two days. Keep things alright before the parents return.

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9:00 p.m. I’m establishing a curfew. The counselors are under strict orders to bring any sick campers to Cedar Ridge. I’ll do whatever I can to prevent the spread of this disease.

 

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July 20:

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6:00 a.m. 33/50 campers have fallen ill. I am declaring a state of emergency. This journal may be the only thing to communicate what is happening to the outside world. To save time, I will be writing hourly updates. These journals have been my solace in these hard times.

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7:00 a.m. Henry Thompson has gone into the woods. His new counselor has just informed me that he has been acting strange: perfect posture, not engaging in activities, he’s acting very dull. Not acting like a kid.

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8:00 a.m. Patrick Torres is feeling better but acting like Henry. We’re keeping him in Cedar Ridge for observation. He keeps staring out the window and into the woods. I’m sending two counselors, Tara and Lauren Hall, to search for Henry and see if there’s anything out of the ordinary in the woods. I decided the twins would be the best fit because they wouldn’t leave the other behind.

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9:00 a.m. Patrick Torres is gone. He broke through the window. When I got to his room, he was already halfway to the trees. There was no way for me to stop him. Tara and Lauren have only been in the woods for half an hour; perhaps they’ll bring Patrick back.

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10:00 a.m. Henry Thompson has returned. I tried to question him, but he seems oblivious to the fact that he wandered into the woods. I couldn’t get a coherent sentence out of him, too much crying. We’re keeping him in an interior room, so he can’t jump out of the window like Patrick Torres. Tara and Lauren are still in the woods. So is Patrick.

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11:00 a.m. Without Mary Anne, Lauren, or Tara, we only have three counselors, all of them are only 16 or 17. The children who have not fallen ill are terrified. A few of the sick are now feeling better, but I fear they will wander into the woods. How are we to control such a large group? They’re children only seven to twelve, and they don’t understand rules or consequences. Patrick Torres ran off into the woods, and Henry Thompson has been screaming and crying in his room. It’s starting to agitate the other kids. Might have to put him in the mess hall, it’s not like we’re using it right now.

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12:00 p.m. Moving Thompson turned out to be more troublesome than previously suspected. He bit a counselor, Harriet Wallace, and got away. Ran off into the woods. Hopefully, Tara and Lauren will return with Henry, and Patrick, and Wanda, and Mary Anne. A few more of the “recovered” campers have started moving in that dull way and often find them staring off towards the woods, even if they’re in a building. They’ll face the wall or stare off at nothing. It took me a while to figure out what they were staring at.

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1:00 p.m. Harriet Wallace has fallen ill. It seems to have been transmitted through the bite. She is getting sicker far faster than those who contracted it through airborne transmission. A fascinating observation. I am glad to be recording these findings. The medical world will be enlightened by these notes. Maybe I’ll even have the disease named after me. Three more campers wandered off into the woods. Five more fell ill, bringing the total of healthy campers to ten.

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2:00 p.m. I can feel the rebellion begin. Patrick Torres returned for a brief moment and bit a camper, and they are now ill. No one else has returned from the woods.

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3:00 p.m. This illness is not of this world. It’s not like anything I learned about. The more the campers get sick, the more they heal. But it’s worse with them healed. They don’t listen. They just leave. The woods aren’t safe. I’m going to find rope to start binding the sick campers and counselors so they can’t go into the woods. Too many have left and not returned.

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4:00 p.m. TREASON. I made the mistake of telling counselors Peter and Diane what I was going to do with the rope. They took it from me. They don’t understand. I’m helping. A group of ten went into the woods, one of them Cook Nancy. Currently, out of every five who go into the woods, only one will return. Noticeably only the youngest will return. They seem to have no recollection of why they left or what is out there.

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5:00 p.m. I don’t care what those teenagers say. I can not idly sit by and watch children die. It is against everything I learned as a nurse.

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6:00 p.m. Peter and Diane deserted the camp. They took off on foot towards town with the healthy campers. They left a note saying I was going to get them killed. FOOLS. They are going to get themselves killed by going into the woods. They don’t understand this thing, this disease, like I do. None of them do. I am leading the world with this disease. They are ignorant of my work. Ignorant to this disease. The woods are a beacon calling to its prey. Letting these kids go is only feeding the woods. They acted like I was some criminal for tying the kids to beds. They don’t understand.

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6:29 p.m. Right along the edge of the tree line, just far enough into the shadows, I can see them. I can see the missing. I can distinctly make out Mary Anne and Cook Nancy. They’re just standing there. Covered in shadows. I’ve locked all the doors to Cedar Ridge. My make-shift office here has no windows. I’m debating moving the sick and recovering to the basement. But it’s just me. I’ve been deserted.

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6:57 p.m. They’ve moved closer.

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7:35 p.m. They won’t go into the sunlight. They are moving closer with the shadows. Sundown in about an hour and a half.

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8:32 p.m. The recovered have begun thrashing on the bed. Howling and wailing. They aren’t human anymore. If they weren’t restrained, I’d fear for my life. They seem to sense the others moving closer. I’ve started gagging the truly vile ones.

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8:47 p.m. Bailey Myer broke free of her restraints, but I was able to stop her. It had to be done. She was dangerous. Praying for forgiveness.

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9:00 p.m. The sun has set. They have circled Cedar Ridge. Why aren’t they moving? I never see them walk. They just are closer.

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9:46 p.m. Still unmoving, the restrained are completely ballistic. I’ve found a baseball bat in storage.

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10:30 p.m. Why won’t they move? I can see that bastard Francis Franklin clear as day. I’ve begun boarding up the windows. I have no hammer and no nails. I’ve pushed whatever I can against the doors and the larger of the windows. It feels futile.

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10:47 p.m. Doug Till escaped his restraints. It wasn’t my fault. He would have contaminated me. The circle is about twenty feet from Cedar Ridge. Anytime I peek out the windows, I fear for my life. There is always someone staring back. Those children with their lifeless eyes. I’ve never seen anything like this.

11:00 p.m. I wish I would’ve succumbed to the illness. Why couldn’t I? No one was around it more than me. Why am I fine?

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11:03 p.m. After that last entry, I started hearing scratches and scraping noises from the cabin's exterior walls. I’m too afraid to look. I think they want to get in. I pushed a metal filing cabinet in front of my door. There are no windows in here. Only the door. I should be safe.

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11:32 p.m. They broke in. I can hear them rummaging through Cedar Ridge. At least the restrained campers have stopped screaming.

 

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July 21:

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12:15 a.m. They’re trying to break into my room now. I pushed the desk in front of the door too. I’m hoping it will hold. After what I’ve done to Bailey and Doug, I fear what they will do to me. I know God will forgive me for what I had to do, but God isn’t outside the door.

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1:54 a.m. They tried to break down the door. It sounded like a battering ram. I hid under my desk until they left. I think they are gone now. At the very least, they are silent. Are they trying to trick me? Get me to leave the safety of my room. I am not so foolish.

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2:12 a.m. I almost dozed off. Typing keeps me awake. Keeps my mind moving and has been my only comfort throughout this whole ordeal. The problem is I don’t know what to say anymore. Should I write a note to my parents? Should I write an apology to the children and their parents? Normally, I would never be like this. I would never hurt a child. I would never tie them to their bed. I would never kill them. But I was forced to. It was the only way. They aren’t children anymore. They would have hurt me. Then I wouldn’t be able to help anyone. But what good has my help been?

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2:44 a.m. Maybe it would be easier to just go out. Let them take me.

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3:00 a.m. I heard a glass fall. They are still outside my room, those bastards.

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5:45 a.m. I must have fallen asleep. It’ll be bright soon.

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6:12 a.m. The parents will come tomorrow. They’ll make me their scapegoat. Frame me as some sort of monster. All I did was help. I can’t let that be the story. I must control the narrative.

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6:15 a.m. The golf cart, I’ll take the golf cart!

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6:22 a.m. I’m going to leave. I’m going to take the main road. It’s a few miles out, but I can’t have more people come here. And I don’t think I’ll survive another night. I’m going to leave my room and survey the damage.

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7:37 a.m. Haven’t seen anyone. The strangest part is the camp is completely untouched. It looks like they untied the restrained and left. I don’t know what they used as a battering ram or what that broken glass was.

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7:38 a.m. They took Bailey and Doug’s bodies.

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8:00 a.m. There is no sign of anyone here. I’ve walked around Cedar Ridge, but there is no sign anyone was ever here. The woods are stagnant, no figures, no movement, not even the chirping of birds or the hum of the cicadas. It’s like the world has frozen around the camp. I’ve never felt more alone.

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8:33 a.m. I’m not sure if they knew my plan, but the golf cart isn’t starting. I’ll have to travel on foot.

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9:05 a.m. I’m leaving. I can’t sit around here and wait for them to come back and take me. I have my bat. If I stay in the center of the main roadway, the shadows shouldn’t be close to me. And the shadowy sections of the road I’ll be able to run through. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine