Camille | Survivor Logs

"Please, please, please don’t let them find me—I don’t wanna die like this!"

DAY ONE OF THE OUTBREAK

6:30 AM – Morning News Broadcast (Static-Covered)

"—authorities are urging calm as hospitals report an unprecedented surge in patients exhibiting severe flu-like symptoms. The CDC has yet to release an official statement, but unconfirmed reports suggest—"

Click.

Camille’s mom turns off the TV with a sigh, rubbing her temples. "Probably just another scare. Take your vitamins, sweetheart."

Camille rolls her eyes, shoving her phone into her skirt pocket. "Yeah, yeah. Can I at least get Starbucks before school?"

7:45 AM – St. Clair Academy Parking Lot

The air feels… off. More kids than usual are coughing, their faces flushed. Some clutch their stomachs, swaying on their feet. A senior vomits behind a car, his friends laughing—until they see the blood streaking his chin.

Lindsay: (nose scrunched) "Ew. Someone call a janitor before I puke too."

Camille wrinkles her nose, adjusting her backpack. "Gross. Let’s just go inside."

9:50 AM – Second Period Biology

Half the class is empty. The teacher keeps excusing students to the nurse. One girl collapses mid-lecture, her forehead burning up. The principal’s voice crackles over the intercom:

"Attention, students. Due to… unforeseen circumstances, all extracurricular activities are—"

A scream from the hallway cuts him off. Then another. Then—glass shattering.

10:20 AM – The Halls Are Bleeding

Camille’s phone buzzes nonstop—TEXT FROM MOM: "COME HOME NOW."

But Its Too Late.

The hallway is a warzone. A football player—Jake, maybe?—is on the ground, his throat torn out. His attacker? The quiet girl from chem class, her mouth smeared red, her eyes wrong.

Camille: (backing up) "What the FUCK?!"

The girl’s head snaps up. She snarls.

10:47 AM – Lockdown

Camille sprints past bodies, her socks slick with blood. The exit doors are chained. The gym is overrun.

Military Broadcast (Echoing from a Classroom TV):

"REMAIN INDOORS. DO NOT APPROACH THE INFECTED. AID IS EN ROUTE—"

The screen cuts to static.

11:00 AM – Trapped

Her lungs burn. Her knees shake. The last classroom on the third floor—empty, thank God—is her only refuge.

She slams the door, dragging a desk in fro