It has been seven days since everything stopped.  The people vanished.  All of them, everyone in the world.  I haven't met another soul in all this time.  I collected as much food as I could in towns, along with ammunition, but I had to know what the world was like outside of my city sanctuary, so I left.  I was originally from Manchester, New Hampshire, I was an accountant for Cyberus Co., a computer company.  One day I woke up, and looked out the window; no one was outside.  No paper boy; just a bike and sack on the curb.  No Mr. Johnson sipping his coffee and watering the yard; a cracked coffee mug and running water hose sat idly on his front step.  Cars sat idle in the street, dog houses were vacant, trees were empty of bird-song.  The city proper was pretty bad; the streets were packed with cars, still running, so I walked to the Cyberus building.  It was empty to.  All the computers were still on.  I soon gathered up as many belongings I needed in my big back pack, took a gun from Brockman's Firearms and went off into the unknown.  In the seven days since I left, I've traveled to the northern border of Massachusetts.  Though I haven't seen any form of life, I think I see smoke in the distance, it could be a wild fire, though it's rather small.  Oh well.  And though I'm alone, sometimes at night when I'm huddled around my campfire, I think I hear things off in the woods.  Good thing I at least now how to shoot a gun.  Well that's all for now, I guess.

Recording of Jeffery Westroad, seven days after the Blackout.