Artifact 1082: Audio Recording, Location: New Zealand

Archivists note: Transcript of recording found on a Dictaphone found 15 miles north of Wellington, New Zealand

The thing I remember most about The Big One is the silence. There had been so much news, all the time, everywhere, about this new threat. My family, sceptics to the last, laughed it off, calling it another SARS, another swine flu, even with the hourly health warnings that came later. I was the only one that really took it seriously. ‘Course, I took anything health-related seriously in those days. I was a paranoid in the midst of sceptics. My OCD didn’t help, either. Or maybe it did. I was always washing things, sterilising them. Probably the only reason I’m still alive.
It was sudden, when it happened. First, the Telly went down. That shocked my brother. He couldn’t believe that anything could be so bad as to end television. Next was the internet. I think that was what finally shocked my parents into actually taking it seriously. But by then it was too late. There wasn’t anything they could do. One by one, it took them.
My sister was the last to go. She’d been the only one to take it anywhere near seriously, until the Telly went down. She was the luckiest of us. I found her OD’d on the bathroom floor one morning. She’d found some of Mum’s sleeping pills. I don’t know whether she thought that maybe they were little sweets, or something, but sometimes, I think that, somewhere, behind the madness that took her, there must have been some shred of what she used to be, and she knew what was coming, and she couldn’t face it.
The worst moment so far, for me, wasn’t seeing my family taken, or die. I feel horrible thinking that, but I know it’s true. The very worst moment, was the day the radio turned to static. I had never known such soul-crushing agony, such loneliness. It was a few months after that I left the house.
I wandered for days before coming across any sign of life. When I did, I found out they didn’t want me. They thought I’d have the virus. I didn’t handle that too well. When they threw me out, I’m not altogether sure I stayed sane. If I’d ever even been sane. But that was a defining moment for me. It was then that I knew nothing was ever going to be right again.
So, I wandered. During the day, I’d scavenge what I could. Food, clothing, medical supplies, shiny stuff, anything. I’d clean it, of course. At night, I didn’t sleep. I’d set up my camp as best I could, and hope the screams didn’t come nearer. They never did. But I’d found some fast acting poison, just in case it did. I wouldn’t become one of them, no way.
Once, I was shot at, by one of the White Zoners. I don’t know why, but it hurt. I couldn’t fix myself up, too much blood. I can’t handle blood. It’s still in my leg. It’s why I limp.
I hear life’s almost normal inside the White Zones. They sleep in beds, and eat their food hot. They wear clothes that were made for them. Or at least fit them. And it’s clean in there. It would be so good to get properly clean.
I’m almost out of disinfectant. I use it as sparingly as I can handle, but it’s not going to last much longer. I don’t know how I’m going to survive. I need to find some more. Maybe I could trade with some White Zoners?
I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know just one thing, I am going to live. No matter what.