There are concerns that Valentin Aleksandrovich may be drawing too much attention to himself when in public, and inebriated. Because his case file in St. Petersburg is still open, Borisov has advised him to show more discretion. No reprimandory action is being taken at this time.

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna is in town and requested a reduced security presence at Dariya's birthday dinner next week. Valentin rejected the idea as careless.

Something strange is going on. What began as unusual violent incidents on the harbor has devolved into outright chaos, and the police are heavily involved. Borisov has shut down all waterfront operations and evacuated the entire area of our men. Nazarov is keeping a close eye on the situation personally.

In a (possibly related) other event, there are reports of rioting in Northgate/Lake City and on Capitol Hill. The news reports a magnitute of violence on an unprecedented scale. Our agents have been unable to confirm what is going on; many have missed their check-ins.

1:45PM

The city is in chaos. Inexplicable violence is everywhere. Our agents are reporting that people (all manner of people, for no reason) are incredibly aggressive and attack anybody they see. Those who are not beaten or mauled to death eventually become aggressive themselves, and the scourge spreads. This is crazy.

Nazarov has ordered the shutdown of all non-essential operations and quarantined all our men. Borisov and Chekhov are arming our security personnel with weapons from our higher-grade cache.

8:00PM

There is nothing but death, everywhere. I don't know how we're going to survive this madness.

Here in Nazarov's office are all four of the family, myself, two bodyguards, seven associates, and four secretaries. Borisov is holding base in the Rainer warehouse with twenty-six associates and four bodyguards. Chekhov is constantly running between us and them, picking up and dropping off associates God knows where.

In the fight to get here, we lost seven bodyguards and fourteen associates. Two secretaries died from wounds later on. Chekhov has reported at least sixteen more casualties in other areas. Gerasimov has not been seen in two days; he is presumed dead.

The water has not been cut off yet, but we have filled all available containers just in case. There is plenty of food; the offices were always well-stocked and Chekhov continues to bring extra supplies. We could reasonably hold here for some time.

7:30PM

Watching from the windows, the world is unreal. Blood flows from the streets, screams fill the air, and terror is the law of the land. There is no civilization here, the streets run rampant with those infected by this inexplicable rage. Anybody caught in their path is ensured death, or becomes one themself.

8:12PM

The television broadcasts from the East Coast went dead at 8:41 this morning. The broadband radio reports from Fort Lewis have been off since yesterday. We have seen no helicopters, airplanes, or armed troops. The long-range radios are on scan, but haven't heard anything from Washington or New York since before noon.

It appears the East has fallen to the same fate. Morale is terrible. We are surviving, but to what end?

A plan was outlined that would purge downtown of these "monsters" and secure a safe-zone for ourselves and the (presumptive) other survivors. Borisov will lead a team through the city, using some of the heavier vehicles from the warehouse, to round up survivors and transport them downtown. In the process, they would eliminate as many monsters as possible.

Chekhov will lead a systematic assault from the Spring/Madison bridges to our base here; across to the water, up to Westlake, and back down to base. He talks of an "assault strategy" (his words) that will systematically purge the infected (as he calls them), block by block.

Today they will be going over logistics, tomorrow Borisov begins collecting soldiers. In two days, the war begins.

5:20PM

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna has been busy all day sending runners through no-man's-land. She says she is surveying the destruction for blockades, enemy positions, and communication routes. Valentin scolded her for risking the lives of people we'd need later, but Nazarov seemed pleased with both her initiative and foresight. I still think this whole plan is madness.

1:36PM

Gerasimov just appeared out of nowhere, excited and starving. He claims to have been hard at work for the past week, collecting the gasoline from around the city and storing it in the fuel station at our harbor. He reeks of blood and ethanol, so it's possible that he's not completely crazy; but he certainly could have just lost it. Valentin is very pleased by the potential offered by such a fuel supply, and has given Gerasimov free reign to continue his efforts. Rainer station was informed of our new fuel supply, and the battle plan has been adjusted to secure that positiion as well.

9:00PM

Chekhov and his men have already turned in for the night. Borisov has not been heard from all night; if he fails, we'll all be on the bad end of a slaughter. Nazarov gave a moving speech before retiring, Valentin is still up reviewing maps with Nadezhda. Dariya has been in and out all day; she's working on something, but I do not know what.

Nazarov is pleased by the progression of the war. "Crazy Ivan" is living up to his nickname, and the dead are piling up in his wake. Their progress is ahead of schedule, most probably because of the element of surprise we have. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

No word from Borisov, but he was not planning to return until this afternoon.

11:18AM

A runner just returned with news that Borisov dropped off fifty-four new survivors to the front line. Where he found them all we do not know; what we do know is that they arrived not a moment too soon. The front line hit a "huge pocket" of creatures (I don't know how many that is!) approaching Pike Place Market. The new recruits were dropped into the thick of it, but by then the runner (a young man named Ilya) was already on his way back. Valentin sent out the flank (of associates and survivors that were here with us) to hit Pike Place from the side, per Chekhov's plan.

It seems I was too pessimistic; we may yet pull this off.

4:42PM

Borisov has delivered another thirty-nine survivors to Chekhov, who is here now and securing a perimeter. He reports that they have cleared the planned 38-square blocks, an amazing feat in one day. Having picked up survivors along the way, his force stands at one hundred twenty-nine combat-ready, including the recent delivery. He estimates between forty and sixty were killed in combat.

Dariya turned up with a surprise for the troops: personal vodka bottles. Lacking advanced medical supplies and personnel trained to use them, and in the chaos and trauma of this type of war, our "soldiers" (if they can even be called that) are in for a world of misery if they get wounded or incapacitated. Vodka makes a practical and pleasant substitute for morphine, and each soldier now has a small bottle to help dampen the pain. It's one of the most humane things I've seen in the past week.

Nadezhda has been hard at work all day updating her maps. Every runners' report is processed and added to the master map (which covers the entire conference table, littered with pins and markers), which is copied by the secretaries and given to the next wave of runners. The efficiency and precision with which she manages her network of suicidal track stars is impressive, to say the least. She has even requested that Chekhov forward on the fastest Borisov-recruits to her team. Crazy Ivan politely agreed, but I doubt he will give it much thought on the field.

6:30PM

The assault for the day is over, and the building is abuzz with preparations for the night. The soldiers have cleared a one-block perimeter around us and barricaded the streets with cars, fencing, razor wire, and anything else they could get their hands on. The front line gets a full night of sleep (nightmare-filled, I'm sure), while the freshest recruits are staking out rooftop positions. The order is for nobody to be on the streets between dusk and dawn, since we have no idea of what to expect. The monsters don't seem to have the intelligence to organize a counterattack, but Nazarov wants to take no chances. Borisov delivered another twelve survivors before returning to Rainer for the night. I don't know here he keeps getting them, but every additional survivor is a triumph of our species.

The heaviest weapons are given to our known associates and top personnel. The new recruits are fitted with shotguns and glocks, which are in abundant supply scavanged from the failed police barricades. Borisov has taken a number of assault rifles for his "death train", and they seem to be doing the job.

The power in the city is still on, which amazes me. Valentin has outfitted all the surrounding roofs with searchlights, from where I do not know, but that will help us survive the night.

9:55PM

Chekhov and Nadezhda remain up and over the map, Valentin and Nazarov in the background. There is some debate about the best way to approach the (daunting) task of securing downtown: what perimeter to define, which route take, what streets make better attack lines. It's clear that they are approaching this from different angles: Nadezhda wants to push through to checkpoints and fight the covered distance from both sides; Chekhov wants a wall of death that moves inexorably forward. Nazarov is listening to both sides and asking good questions, but I'm thinking he will leave the final decision in Chekhov's hands. Crazy Ivan will be the one that's down in the streets tomorrow, after all.

Chekhov began the forward assault today to the east; he plans to drive a path to the freeway, set up a barricade, swing around, and push the infected into the sound. How they plan to maintain the barricade overnight I do not know.

3:17PM

The freeway approach is proving more difficult than anything we've faced. The monsters are swarming down from Capitol Hill in droves, and despite Crazy Ivan's advantage of position, buffer zone, and weaponry, he is unable to advance the line. Valentin is irate, ranting that if Chekhov falls back now, the hordes will chase him here and we will all be consumed. Borisov has not delivered since this morning.