With Napoleon defeated, they finally took the chance to send him of into exile. A journey to sea is nothing but a vast view of nothingness but high waters and horizons. Every one of the men took it upon themselves to sit apart from each other unlike one particular man - Comte de Las Cases. Comte has been itching to write down another entry since August. It has been six weeks since they all have been on the journey by sea to St. Helena. They took off from the HMS ship and landed on the island. Napoleon himself was in the middle of his small, entourage group; the guy before all of them stood front and tall. He took it upon himself and made eye contact to Napoleon.

"Napoleon," he said with a manly voice. "You come with me."

"I'll come with," the Comte de Las Cases followed from behind. "You're going to the Briars Pavillion."

"The name's William Balcombe," he stated.

As they venture off toward the pavillion, the rest of the small entourage went onward to St. Helena. Leaving the ship behind now abondoned, the men went along the shoreline and looked way ahead of their tracks. Leading the way is Florentin Langlois. With a body of a soldier, he went on forward to the sandy and grassy, rocky plains. With the rest of the entourage behind, they followed along until they reached a spot for a camp site. Trudging behind are two men Silvain and Louis with Jean-Francois Peletier all the way at the back. With more miles to walk to their destination, all men looked behind at Peletier.

"What," he asked. "What are we looking at?"

"Peletier," Silvain was the first to ask. "Have you not noticed someone not walking behind you?"

"Someone's missing," Louis softly whispered.

"Guillermo's probably chosen to follow the others," Peletier suggested. "We'll meet him later with the others."

"Hopefully," said Louis, "or else Captain will be furious."

It only became nearly nightfall when the entourage regrouped with the others. Napoleon was not found as they hear that he stayed behind with Balcombe for the night. Guillermo, the one missing from their group, was not alone. He brought the Governor with him along with supplies. Sir Hudson Lowes immediately returned to his post far away for them to notice his position as they gathered the supplies for the night. With only Peletier and Guillermo in the hovel, the three men camped just outside. The next morning came and Peletier was the only one in sight. Not knowing where he went, Peletier told the three men that he will return back with Guillermo.

"Be careful," yelled Florentin, "you don't know this place well compared to us, so watch where you're going."

"You're not his mother," piped in Silvain. "He knows what he's doing."

The both of them then saw the Governor walking toward them. Right behind him was Napoleon and Comte. Balcombe was not with them, but the men did not question it as they heard he has got family of his own on the island. Florentin and Silvain looked back towards the Governor as he gave off an acrimonious aurora that was supposedly for Napoleon. They saw that Comte stayed beside him with his diary ready to be written. Florentin and Silvain could hear Sir Lowes grunting underneath his mumbled breaths; he never showed once anything to Napoleon but hatred and anger. He left once he gave them more supplies for the rest of them to have.

"What a great piece of wretched hovel," Comte commented as he added something on his entry.

Napoleon himself got inside the hovel as the rest stood there around the campsite. The wretched thing just stood there rooted to the ground. Peletier and Guillermo were the only ones who went inside previously. Napoleon took this to an advantage. He himself also noted it was wretched as well as not liking his abode. For the next several days, he said, he will clean the hovel even though it was not necessary. To him, it didn't matter.

"Where are Peletier and Guillermo," asked Comte.

"Peletier is out finding Guillermo," responded Florentin. "No one was reported where he went."

"How do you mean," Comte worried. "How is it possible to lose a comrade, not alone the Captain's only son?"

"Peletier will find him, he always does."

With Comte still worried, he wore the look away as soon Napoleon came outside once more. Comte made sure he would not come out further than he intended to. Comte looked after Napoleon for the next hour or so as they all sat down by the camp site still. Napoleon was given his meal from a distance as if he was a criminal; this was done numerous times throughout the hour.

"Louis, don't be so immature," Florentin said with his mouth full.

"Well, look who's talking with his mouth full," Louis pointed out.

"It's disrespectful toward us," Florentin once again replied with his mouth full. "Stop messing with Napoleon."

"What's disrespectful is that I'm talking to a guy who's mouth is still full," scoffed Louis with a rough voice.

Napoleon then gathered us around with a welcoming gesture. This also included Sir Lowes in the far off distance becoming a little intrigued. Comte of course held his diary as to become ready to write what is going to happen next. Florentin spotted Sir Lowes also having a diary out as well. Before he knew it, both Sir Lowes and Comte were both writing entries in their diaries.

"For what infamous treatment are we reserved," he exclaimed. "This is the anguish of death. To injustice and violence they now add insult and protracted torment. If I were so hateful to them, why did they not get rid of me? A few musket balls in my heart or my head would have done the business, and there would at least have been some energy in the crime."

Comte de Las Cases took note of Napoleon's words, carefully remembering each words he says aloud to the entourage. Florentin, Silvain and Louis eye him and his diary; they softly chuckled as they know that would do nothing at all at the time being. While Napoleon is giving his determined speech, the three men only paid attention when they finally hear the word "wives."

"Were it not for you, and above all for your wives," the entourage listened intently. "I would receive nothing from them but the pay of the private soldier. How can the monarchs of Europe permit the sacred character of sovereignty to be violated in my person? Do they not see that they are, with their own hands, working their own destruction at St. Helena?"

"I entered their capitals victorious and, had I cherished such sentiments, what would have become of them? They styled me their brother, and I had become so by the choice of the people, the sanction of victory, the character of religion, and the alliance of their policy and their blood. Do they imagine that the good sense of nations is blind to their conduct? And what do they expect from it? At all events, make your complaints, gentlemen; let indignant Europe hear them. Complaints from one would be beneath my dignity and character; I must either command or be silent."

The three men then suddenly looked around the crowd in search of someone. They even looked behind them. The three quietly questioned each other whether if either of them had seen Peletier since before the gathering. Napoleon had already finished with the speach.

"Everyone stop what they're doing," commanded Florentin. "Has anyone seen Peletier since they've got here?"

"No," answered Comte. "Is he still looking out for Guillermo?"

"It's been too long," Florentin noted. "How about Guillermo, did you guys spotted him after or during sunrise?"

"No, we haven't seen him," Sir Lowes clarified.

"Alright, we're going to have to wait on our sleep tonight, then," Florentin grabbed his bag of weapons.

Before they knew it, every one of them grabbed a weapon from Florentin's possession. Not questioning why he brought as many as he could to the island, Silvain and Louis grabbed their own guns from the camp site as well. The three men nodded and with that decided that the three of them are going to where Peletier went.

"We're going to where we last saw Peletier went to," Silvain noted. "Sir Lowes, make sure that your end searches everywhere you have all been since yesterday."

"We'll try our best."

The entourage had split themselves into two groups so they could find Peletier before the night becomes more darker for them to see. The three men wore a worried mask as they go the opposite way than from the others. They did not know where to go at first, but then they heard a noise somewhere in the rustling leaves. Turns out after a few seconds had passed it was just a rat. The men wondered if they can look for more defensive weapons around them before finding Peletier.

"Why do I smell a horrid gas," Louis softly asked, the back of his left hand covering his mouth and nose.

"Ugh," Silvain choked. "It must be from that wretched rat."

"Let's just go and find where the source it's coming from."

"Cowards," mumbled Florentin.

"You don't think I heard that, man," Silvain took note of what he said.

Passing many visible narrow roads and trails, the source of the smell has gotten worse. Every time they got closer to what seems like an animal, they keep on hearing not only rustling noises but also grunts from different directions. They hold a formation where Florentin is at the front line while Silvain and Louis took the back flank - Louis on Florentin's left and Silvain on his right flank. The smell of the source has gotten worse. The more closer they get, the more the smell has gotten putrid and horrid. Then there it was - a body found on the ground and it belonged to none other than Peletier. It was then found out that he had his very stomach boiled right in front of their own shocking eyes. It was no hallucination as they pinched themselves to make sure that they were awake. Peletier himself was no more. Like acid, they saw a little opening being created that showed a little bit of his insides. Grossed out, they all looked away in disgust. This odd, horrible epidemic could not be helped as they could not find Sir Lowes in time for this. Sir Lowes himself was with Napoleon and Balcombe near the Longwood House. The smell over there was much worse. The three men decided to go where the rest were as they heard gunshots firing in the background. Looking back at the body, they finally decided to go onward.

"Let's get out of here," Silvain wanted no more to leave the body behind. "We need to find something to defend ourselves already."

"What are ye talking about, " asked Louis. "We have guns!"

"True, we should stick with these instead," Florentine agreed to the situation. "For now."

The three men left Peletier unmoved. They followed the track until they could see a building near them. They were specifically looking for the putrid smell to its roots, but the more worse it became they could no longer traverse onward. However, they didn't have to. The rest of the group found them.

"Run," they yelled while shooting their guns from where they came from, "and don't look back!"

"What, why," Louis asked, confused.

The three men stayed behind and saw a body dragging itself toward them. Another from their right crawled toward their direction at one'o'clock. The one crawling was none other than Guillermo. All others unknown surround him, Guillermo looking like the rest of them. Shocked by surprise, the three men took their formation as they gave way from Guillermo.

"We can't shoot him," Silvain commanded. "He must just be sick like these guys."

"Then why the bloody hell did they run away from them then," Florentin angrily asked, confused.

"Guys," whispered Louis, "look over to where Guillermo is."

All eyes were fixed behind Guillermo. They could not believe their eyes as the one laying dead behind him was Comte himself. Not knowing how Comte himself got here to their side of the path, they took it to consideration that it was not safe to stand here with the rest of the walking ill going toward them. As they went tracing back their tracks toward the camp site, they shot their guns toward the walking dead.

"Damn," cursed Florentin. "Why aren't they dead?"

"Maybe because they are dead," said Silvain with a shocked voice.

Right before they could say anything else, Peletier's dead body had jumped them off to a scare when they heard his grunts and moaning behind them. Cursing out loud, the men back away but realized that both their paths are blocked by the dead. Louis then raised his gun and shot Peletier's body like it was a prize in anger. Wasting his ammo, he shot Peletier not just from his torso but also from the arms and head. When the ammo got through Peletier's head, his body dropped backwards to the ground.

"That's not going to last long," Florentin commented. "Let's get out of here while we can."

"I'm going to check," Louis bravely said.

"What," Silvain mistakenly shouted. "Are you insane? What if whatever's on him will get you becoming like this?"

"No promises, then," Louis smiled back as if he knew what he was doing.

As he checked Peletier's body, the two men got busy shooting the walking dead. The two men mimicked Louis's gun point toward Peletier's head as they did the same with the others walking toward them. As they continued to do so, Louis checked Peletier's body other than the putrid, acidic stomach.

"There's a horde coming," warned Florentin. "We can't hold them off much longer!"

As they spotted Guillermo crawling toward them, Louis spotted a misplaced shovel just a couple of inches away from his head to the right. Louis grabbed his attention to the shovel, grabbed it quickly and shoved it onto its head before he got to them. He repeatedly repeated this process until the neck of its head was sliced and rolled away from its body.

"You're not going barmy on us, are you," asked Silvain.

"Let's get out of here before we get lurgy like them," sighed Louis.

"Whatever they are, they need to be dealt with."

"Before you go off one's trolley, we need to get reinforcements first," stated Florentin.

-----

To whomever discovers this letter,

          The epidemic of the zombie rise dated back all the way from Napoleon's time, as it seems. Ever since then, no one had figured out how this had all started. Some say it was because of the wretched rats; others pointed out it was a man made execution. Whatever happened, well, this was not supposed to happen. The impossible has been rising for so many years. I haven't seen anyone for a donkey's years! Not even my own ship mates. We arrived on St. Helena just a week ago, and now they're gone like they've just vanished! We originally went here to seek more evidence that may have left behind by Napoleon and his entourage. St. Helena now is a dead haven. The environment is eerie with no sounds but a bird's chirp soaring through the sky. So many years had passed, and no one had figured out from this day and age how to cure this wretched disease.

          I can smell them from the outsides of this old walls. I hate seeing the more horrid ones near the hovels. They're more acidic and putrid smelling. The river close to them still to this very hour are crowded with hordes of them. The campsites have been torn apart along with its supplies thrown across the fields. I sometimes hear these gun shots in my head just from afar. Either I'm imagining them or the ghosts of Napoleon's time is currently playing just outside these walls. It's heard that the ghosts of those people are lingering about still shooting those putrid things to this very day.  There is one man who is still alive to this day who might have something to cure at least a few of these putrid things. These walking dead are an epidemic to us all.

          One rumor called out that there's still a man living out this very day ever since the start of the epidemic. I'd like to see this very man who also claimed to be the doctor to help us all. One said that he's got something to cure this epidemic. I don't like thinking for miracles or hopes, but this could be the last chance for me to live. I want to see my family again once I get off this island. I wrote a letter to them that everything's okay, but I don't think that will be the case here. We got here by nine week's sea journey. I spoke of my men, and to this very hour I still cannot find them. Have they gone to the horrids of the epidemic down by the river? If so, then there's nothing for me to go after. I'd have to go look for this very man by myself. But how would one do so without being seen by them nor becoming one of them? The doctor stated throughout all of England that we're already infected. But how? None of us never got infected as the rise started here in this very island of St. Helena. One always wondered what really happened here during Napoleon's time as we thought that the impossible came here from other boats by accident. No one knows the truth and at the same time not wanting to know the truth. I, however, have to uncover this disaster to end this once and for all - even if it might get me killed. The root to it all started here in St. Helena, and this doctor was here on the very day of Napoleon's time. It's worth a shot even if he's not on this island anymore - dead or alive.

          One noted anonymously in my journal entry that the doctor did once escape to Africa as a safe haven. Most everyone heard of this once this person rumored it all before I told them not to go there. It could be a trap, nor it could of already been diseased before or after St. Helena. When rumored about the horde coming by boats, they thought they might of came from Africa as it's closest to this island. The others thought that maybe Africa can be a safe haven, that it's mostly safe from the epidemic. The horrids of the nightmare scarred their lives. The reasoning behind this is because the doctor himself decided to go back to this island after a few years on Africa. One wonders why he came back and what he did for his time on another country. No one knows that either, but I'm about to find out everything that has been going on for the past several years since the epidemic. I have an assumption that if this goes on, it might as well also go over seas to the Americas. If anyone finds this, please find a cure for this monstrosity. I might not come back alive as I hear more and more of these ill, putrid hordes coming my way, their moans louder every passing second.

°°°°

          I killed the doctor. Every passing minute he wastes toward me to search for the supplies and so called "quests" instead of himself, I get more agitated. I was being tested as one of his patients so we can figure out the disease that's spreading. However, I saw an old letter from Comte de Las Cases - something about finding an oddly misplaced of a so called hospital. It was barely legible, and the only ones I can read were that of a suspicion toward someone but that part I don't know... until I saw it under his creaking floor. I killed him. He didn't try to find a cure. I don't know if he started it all, but he's part of the reason why this has all started. He had a family. I hope they don't become like him, nor did his ill hobby came from them. Someone find this family of his - dead or alive.

                                                                                                                         E. L. Davies   [1859]