You’ve made it to American Abyss. We’re the Editorial Team, and we’ll be guiding you through the Palmyra Exclusion Zone one step at a time. The Government is trying to keep the truth about Palmyra under wraps, but we have people inside and outside the city working day and night to expose the truth.
Here’s what we know:
There are over 100,000 people still trapped within the city
After the mysterious phenomenon “The Flash” Palmyra was quarantined on March 31.
Fighting between the Liberty Lions of several branches of the Federal Government (including the ATF, DHS, and FBI) is ongoing, and has no end in sight.
The Government has issued a communications blackout around the city, and is restricting humanitarian access to the war zone.
Kurdizov Industries has stepped up to provide medical care for citizens stuck within the city, which has led to an outcry of opposition. Many think that the administration is using this is tragedy to further privatization Federal services like FEMA.
Some (unconfirmed) reports claim that there is a mysterious illness spreading through the city. The government has categorically denied this, claiming that the quarantine is a safeguard against contaminants released by the ”Flash.”
We are still trying to verify much of this information, but communication within the city is sparse and travels slowly. We will release more comprehensive news as we have it. If you’d like to stay informed about the situation within the Palmyra Exclusion Zone, please sign up below.
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"This has been declared an unlawful assembly. You're in violation of Federal law, and subject to detention or arrest. This is your final order to depart the area. Authorized agents may use chemical agents to remove you from the restricted area."
The crowd erupted into jeers. We were packed like sardines at the border- a hastily constructed wall of shipping containers, and concrete barricades. A wall of national guardsmen, and police officers in riot gear stood between the crowd and the checkpoint.
The barricade had been put up overnight, in the hours between when they ceased the evacuation, and quarantined the city. I'd taken my car that morning, drove it until I hit gridlock on the highway. When people got out of their cars and started walking to the checkpoint, I got out too. Now we were crammed like sardines on a small highway, maybe two or three hundred people. I wondered if the other checkpoints were as backed up as this one.
"We have no where to go! There's no way to get out!" Someone in the crowd yelled. Someone else threw something- A bottle maybe. Then a shot rang out. Everyone around me ducked, so I ducked too. In my haste to get down someone elbowed me in the lip. For a moment, the crowd hushed, the shot still echoing in the early morning air. It was cold, so goddamn cold. The tips of my fingers had gone numb, I hadn't expected to walk, or be stopped at the border. None of this made any sense. Just last night I'd gotten my notice to evacuate in the morning, by the same national guards that stood between me, and the exit.
The people around me slowly stood up- we looked around, praying no one had been struck by the shot. There was murmuring, I heard someone near me whisper something. I turned to ask what they said- There was a young woman behind me, maybe 19, or 20. Her hair was tussled, a crocheted pink scarf was wrapped tightly around her face. She was looking off to the right. I followed her gaze, and saw a circle of people crowded around a point. Someone had been hit.
Then, the jeers returned. More bottles, backpacks, and random items flew out over the crowd. From somewhere behind me I felt a push, people at the back were moving forward. I tripped over myself, and the young woman behind me pulled me back up. I tried to turn back to look at her, maybe to say thanks, or ask what was happening, but someone else behind me grabbed my shoulder and pushed me forward. I lurched forward, packed tightly into the crowd around me. Then, from somewhere ahead, the crowd was pushed back. And then we pushed forward again. Like I was part of a wave crashing into some shore I couldn't see. Forward, then back, forward, back. But each time, we went a little further forward.
The crowd was growing more agitated with each motion, growing louder with each push. I heard that tinny megaphone voice ring out again, but I couldn't make out the words. There were more gunshots, and then more pushing. But this time, we didn't pull back, we kept pushing forward. The people behind me pushed me forward until I couldn't walk anymore. I was losing my balance, falling forward, I knocked down someone else in front of me.
Then, I fell to the ground. I skinned my palms on the concrete, and I felt someone foot stamp on me. There wasn't enough room to turn. I tried reaching up, to grab someone or something to lift myself back up, but they just kept pushing forward. I was squished by a dozen different pairs of legs, smothered by the strangers around me. Overhead, I heard more gunshots, like cracks of lightning. I wondered who they struck.
Then, the front of the crowd broke through whatever wall had been keeping us back, and suddenly everyone moved forward. I found enough space to scramble to my feet, and I ran forward too. I didn't dare to stop, to look around, to do anything but move forward. It was a stampede.
I couldn't make out the people around me. They were all screaming and shouting, moving too quickly. I think I screamed, too. Because I was mad, because I was scared, and confused. I stared out over the crowd, looking at the makeshift cargo containers. We were growing closer every second.
I stepped over someone. I don't think they were moving anymore. I wasn't sure if they'd been shot, or trampled. I didn't want to walk over them, but I also didn't have anywhere else to plant my feet. I saw a thick cloud of green smoke ahead, and we were charging right into it. I saw people disappearing into the smoke, and I knew I would too. I pulled my shirt up over my nose, hoping it might help, but knowing it probably wouldn't.
My eyes burned, my nostrils stung, I shuddered and choked on each breath, and I kept pushing forward. On the other side of the smoke, past the cargo containers, the crowd thinned. People made it past the choke point and then made a mad dash in every direction. I saw some people fall as they were shot in the back. Others rushed at the guardsmen and tried to wrestle their weapons from them.
But I was supposed to be here. I was supposed to be leaving today. Why were they shooting at us?
Editor's Note: Though some rough deduction, we think we've figured out who wrote each of these notes. We've taken the liberty of assigning names to the transcription below.
This voicemail was recovered on an abandoned phone found in the suburbs in Palmyra. It's dated April 12, 10:48pm, and was received just hours before the citywide communication blackout.
Transcript Begins
Hey Vern,
I'm not doing too hot, eh? I think I-
[Sighs]
I think I inhaled something nasty in that store. I'm giving you a call because all that stuff we got? You gotta dump it. It's no good. I know you're gonna be tempted to eat it, I mean we picked up some good shit. But I'm serious, dump it.
Do you remember when we was little? Used to go down to the docks and get ice cream at... Oh what's that shop called? The one with the creepy mascot?
Y'know, the one we always made all the funny voices for.
[In deep cartoonish baritone]
I'm Mr. Squeezy or whatever, and the flavor of the day is grasshopper!
[Chuckles]
I was thinking about how we's use to flick icecream at the cutout on the window, and it had those real nasty stains, just layers and layers of melted icecream.
[Chuckles]
I remember once, you were probably too young to remember- I dared this kid, Antonio, dared him to lick up those ice cream splatter. Think I even said I'd give him a fiver if he did. He did it, fuckin' funny guy. But he came down with a nasty flu- Which I always thought was kinda weird because it was the middle of the summer. And I thought, "Damn, that's a real shame. Nothing worse than being sick in the summer." Well, let you me tell you this, Vern. I'm sick.
And it's hot. It's real hot in my shitbox apartment. And the AC sure as fuck ain't working. But it's one of those hots where I don't think it's so much outside, as it is me. But it's making everything miserable.
[Pause]
It was an accident. I didn't mean to do it, y'know? But when we were in the back, loading up those boxes full of cans and shit, I was getting really tired from picking them up, and putting them down, then picking them back up again. And my glove kept slipping, I couldn't get a good grip with it. So I took it off, and I was carrying a box around the corner- And I brushed one of those cobweb things. At first, I thought it was just a hair, or some dust. I try and wipe it off, but then my knuckles start burning. Like they'd been stung by something.
And a second later, the fingers on my other hand started to burn too, like I'd spread the fire by touching it. It fuckin' hurts, but I'm a big boy. So I put my glove back on, making sure I didn't touch my face or nothin' else, and I pick my box up again- After dropping the fucking thing like five fucking times. And I'm heading back to the truck, when I turn the corner, and I see one of them. I know you told me about them, Vern. Said you saw one on a run a couple weeks back. But fuck. I was picturing something like a block of tofu, but this- This was...
[Haggared breathing, pause.]
It was just floating there, kinda bobbing in the air. I took a step back, and it jerks towards me. It didn't have eyes- I mean it's a fucking chunk of meat, but I could tell- It was looking at me. So, I take another step back, a little slower this time. Thinking, surely, it musta heard me or something. But I'm still holding this box, and my glove is slipping, and my fingers are really fucking burning. And now, to make matters worse, I'm getting sweaty! Even though it's cold! I can't fucking take it anymore, so I throw the box of cans towards the fucking thing.
Well, I guess I still got my good throwing arm, 'cos the box hits the square mother fucker right in it's center, and the thing goes flying, and it hits the wall. It sticks there for a second, then just fucking falls to the floor, with this sick wet thud. I'm standing there thinking, "Maybe I killed the thing, right?"
Nope. Just my fucking luck. It's laying "face down" on the ground, but it's... Moving. Just a little. Kinda like it's breathing, or maybe trembling? The thing about these meat cubes, right? They're not smooth like your tofus. They got... I dunno, folds? Just like layers and layers of skin all pressed in and pushed together.
Like you put a person through a trash compactor, right? Well, it's doing this shuddering thing, and I take a step closer to get a better look. I notice this awful fucking arm thing hanging off it, like an unformed limb, and it's kinda wiggling at me? Well, the things fucking nasty, so I give it a kick. And it just slides across the floor, like it's an empty box! No weight to it. But right as I kick it, it fuckin' sprays me, like a skunk. This thick, nasty-smelling cloud.
Vern, it was so thick, I could fucking see it. Well, I opened my mouth like an idiot. And yeah. I think it gave me the sick. I'm hoping this isn't anything bad. I'm trying to work up the courage to go to Rosie's, but I really don't know if I can make it anymore. I'm tired. And that stinging feeling on my knuckles? It's up my armpit now. It comes and goes- but I can always feel it, just below the skin. That tofu mother fucker stung me with it's web, and then sprayed me.
[Sighs]
I'm an idiot. I wasn't being careful. But hey, you were always a lot smarter than me. Don't go back to that supermarket. It's bunk, a bust, no good.
[Coughs]
You stay safe out there, Vern. Imma try to get some help. Hopefully I see you soon... Call me back.
Subject: Request for Additional Funds Disbursement & Staffing (REQ-871-94J)
Date: █████████
To: Roger A. Poole, Acting Special Agent in Charge, Detroit Division
From: Andrew Milgrim, Chief of Field Operations
Body: We recieved your request for additional fund dispersement in the amount of $███████ on August 22, 2025. Assistant Administrator (AA) Dillion B. Doty has dentied your request for additional funds at this time.
Additionally, your request for the reallocation of Special Reponse Teams to the Detroit Division's area has been denied. Please refer to Bureau of Alchohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosie's (BATFE) External Security Forces (ESF) Program. We encourage you to work with local private security contractors to bridge any staffing problems. Please refer to your employee handbook, Section 18.E.iii for the procedures to request funds to work with recognized contractors.
Something foul grew within our city, it poisoned the water in the well. Out of the festering growth, a homegrown militia with stockpiled weapons emerged. The Federal government rushed in to contain the tendrils of insurrection, but they failed. The rot went deeper than they realized. A botched raid turned into an all out civil war. As explosions and fighting rocked the city, the National Guard was summoned to facilitate an evacuation. Endless fighting engulfed the streets, and you and I were caught in the crossfire.
Then, one night, "The Flash." Stars cascaded out of the sky, leaving behind streaks that burned bright and brighter. Until the entire city was subsumed in light. As quickly as it came, the light vanished, leaving behind only uncertainty. Chaos followed. No one knew if this was some new horrible weapon, or an unseen phenomenon. That night was one of the longest of our lives.
In the morning, we woke up, expecting evacuation, only to find that the city was cordoned, quarantined, cut off. Communities were ripped apart as the border wall fell between them. You ventured out, with the noble pursuit to protect our neighbors. I asked you to stay. I don't know if you heard me. And then the power went out. I tried to find some comfort in the silence. The momentary ceasefire.
But in the darkness, I only found your empty shape. I ventured out into the night to return you to me- But I left too late. I searched. And I searched. But you were always out of reach. And I was so scared, and so tired. I returned home, and hoped that soon you would too.
You didn't.
Instead, I heard the echo of your voice, over an impossible distance. The voice you're about to hear belongs to a dead man.
