You can call me Rok. I’m not sure there’s much hope for this not sounding cliche, but I am a survivor. To my knowledge, I am one of two, but I have to think that there are others like us out there, which is the primary motivation for writing this blog. The Internet still works, but if you’re here, then you already know that. Electricity still works, we’ve still got clean water. Somehow I would have thought all of those things would have ceased a month and a half into what I can only call the apocalypse. Yet they persist. Cell phones don’t seem to work, though. Go figure.

We are holed up in Phoenix, Arizona. Just off of Camelback and 32nd Street. It’s not a well known intersection, like those in New York, or LA, or San Fransisco that everyone everywhere is supposed to know because they are somehow significant, but I know it well, and it’s kept us safe. It’s hard to imagine what New York would be like right now given that there are so many people so tightly packed. In Phoenix, the population density is so low that it’s not difficult to drive in between the infected, and to hide without being mobbed.
My companion through all of this is Zoic. I’m sure she’ll chime in shortly. She’s pretty cool, and I think you’ll enjoy her. She was a writer, once, just like me, and we’re both fairly committed to keeping grammar alive post-civilization.
Anyway, if you’re out there, I hope that it helps knowing you’re not alone. And, perhaps, some day we will meet.