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24th of January - Noon.

Now I know how it started. Now I know when.

With a backpack full of supplies from the appartment beneath my own and a firm grip around my shotgun, I left home.

The streets were empty and the buildings abandoned. The only sound was conjured by the chilling wind's journey through the area.
A dark ghost town under an overcast sky, with only the distant memory of the glorious occupation days. Copenhagen was dead.
And I, perhaps the last moving cell within the stiff body of this entire city. Left alone. Left for dead.

But I seek no sympathy. Neither "props" or pity. Only justice. The voice of my shotgun will represent the righteous fallen. Among them, my beloved Peter.
The time has come to track down the corrupted inhabitants and exterminate every last maggot feeding on the rotting corpse of Copenhagen.
Now the hunt begins




24th of January - Evening.

My first day outside went peacefully. I've probably been too careful, circling around my local area - constantly on guard.
The whole city suddenly went dark a few hours after nightfall, but though I was still close to home, I decided to take shelter in an old TV-store.
For some reason I felt reluctant to revisit my old appartment, as if I would be returning to a crime scene.
Instead I found an old dictaphone in the office inside the shop, which im now using to continue my tale.

Wether I will perish or prevail, I'll leave these small tapes behind to witness my deed.




25th of January - First light.

I left at sunrise.
The night hadn't given me much sleep. Nervous and cold I had been holding my weapon tight, constantly waking up from nightmares about darkness, the walking dead and half-eaten fruit.
But as the sun rose and lit up the city, I regained my courage.

Today I'll go to the city center. If I am to find any other survivors my chances will be better there, and I'll have to locate an abandoned hunting store to get some more ammunition no matter what.




25th of January - Morning

The stench of the corrupted was all over now. I had only been walking for thirty minutes, but I was sure that I was now close to the very heart of this kingdom of death.
I slowed down my pace and held my shotgun high, aiming in a new direction for each step I took.
I felt how small pearls of sweat slowly appeared under my hair and started merging rapidly. My heart was pumping fast, spreading adrenaline all over my body.
My hands started shaking. Somehow I sensed that someone was staring at me. They were here.

Then. Suddenly. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a human shape behind the store window on my left. I didn't hesitate.
The window shattered as I blasted the mannequin behind it into pieces. I slightly lowered my weapon and gazed at the sad remains of the poor doll.
"Dammit! Calm down. Focus you idiot" I yelled at myself while I reloaded my shotgun.
Unfortunately my loud self-criticism made me unaware of the heavy footsteps closing in on me from the other side of the street.

I dropped my shotgun as the first rotten dane came at me from behind and forced me down.
For a second I saw my entire life pass by while I felt my strong opponent's cold hands grab my arms.
As I was just about to give in and accept my fate, the memory of Peter's juicy corpse entered my mind.
No. Not like this. NEVER!
Using all my strength I managed to force the infected dane on his back.
My fingertips went through its soft dead tissue as I held the undead down with both my hands closed around its shoulders. But I didn't care about rotten insides - It was all about revenge now.
Then I started hitting it. First once, sending some brown teeth flying and leaving the jaw hanging.
Then over and over mixing its remaining teeth with brain mass. It was beautiful! Making modern art out of the very face of evil.

I sensed the shadows of the other zombies over me, but it didnt matter anymore. At least I was sure that this one wouldnt ever move again.
I closed my eyes and relaxed my muscles. Now I was ready to go. "Peter here I come" was my last thought...

...Untill the gunfire began. Several bullets started ripping the walking dead behind me into pieces, showering me with rotten flesh and guts.
A few seconds later it stopped.
Still on my knees I all of a sudden felt my own shotgun against the back of my head.
There was a momment of silence, then a high piched voice adressed me in danish: "Skattestop eller velfærd?"
"Velfærd" I answered surprised.
"He's clean!" the guy cried out and threw my shotgun on the ground next to me.

I got back on my feet and turned around. A midget was standing on top of a zombie-torso and behind him a black haired woman with a rifle.
"Who.. Who are you?"
I had a hard time talking and felt the tears fill up my eyes.
The midget had a suspicious look on his face, but answered quickly: "Miroslav, and this is Tatyana. Who are you?"
I couldnt hold back the tears anymore and was unable to answer. My relief was overwhelming. I was no longer alone.
With blood all over and small pieces of zombie in my hair I walked towards the little guy with open arms while crying like a little girl.

From that day on we were a team. We ate together, slept together and killled together. It was perfect!




Weeks went by and according to flyers spread all over town by the wind, the quarantine nation had gotten itself a president.
While the two male companions didn't care much about these flyers, Tatyana read them with great interest.
Apparently some dark council had risen. Led by a man only known as the "Count".
Then there was his right and left hand; The minister of foreign affairs and the minister of finance.
The last member of the council was yet to prove himself and didnt hold any minister post.
He was the Count's apprentice and known under the title: Bright Initiate Tested Clean of Honor.
Tatyana wasn't sure if there excisted an abbreviation for that.

Though she enjoyed every single kill, she had realized that there was simply too many corrupted danes to slaughter.
...But taking out the current men in power would grant her an excellent chance to gain it - Thereby controling an entire nation of free zombie workers.
The two other morons would be easy to convince.
All she needed was to make up some story about how this dark council had been controling the infected danes like marionettes from the beginning, thereby being the ones responsible for everything.
That the mindless danish population had just walked the path shown to them, simply following the directions of the masterminds behind, probably wasnt that far from the truth anyway - Wether it was this dark council that was to blame or some other deceitful propaganda organization.

It took her less than five minutes to talk the two freaks into going after president, and as the little geek insisted that they needed a cool name as freedom fighters, the three companions were known as "The Midnight Musketeers" from that day on.

So on a cold saturday morning the 14th of February, The Midnight Musketeers began their quest.



(Confused? Perhaps you didnt read the two previous articles about the quarantine nation)