LOG ENTRY - B. WOLFE Saved Draft - Never Sent

I don't even know if you're out there anymore. I tell myself you are, because if I stop believing that, I stop walking.

This thing... it's not a virus. It's not something we can cure or kill. It's becoming. Rage was just the beginning. Now the bodies don't stay dead-they grow. Flesh becomes fungus. Eyes become mouths. They scream like they remember what it felt like to be human.

I see them in my sleep. I hear them whispering in the trees. The spores are falling like snow now-soft, silent, everywhere.

Every day I ask myself: If I find you, and you're one of them... do I save you? Or do I stay, just so you're not alone in it?

This isn't a survival story. It's a goodbye letter.

SPOREFALL is here. And I'm still walking toward it.