Hello, if anyone out there can hear this, my name is Dr. Alan Boult. My last known location was roughly: 89 degrees North by 10 west. I was part of the Ox-Tech Arctic Science and Research team here in the North Pole. Phil is dead. Mitchell and Victoria are presumably dead. If they are alive it will only be a matter of time. I don't know if anyone can hear this transmission. Only a few days ago everything was fine. We had completed our training and the team was in good spirits. To the average person it probably looked like another boring venture to research climate change. But in retrospect, maybe the fundamental theme of our studies, are what could have saved us.

Phil Cunningham, my good friend and team leader, was the first casualty to feel the brunt of this madness. As usual we had a dog flown out with us, a Canadian Inuit sometimes known as an Eskimo Dog. We used them as a deterrent to Polar Bears. Despite putting up fencing around our camp every night and with the knowledge that bears usually kept further south, I've always felt comfortable taking a dog with us. Sure they wouldn't last in fight with a bear, but their bark is usually enough to ward off their curiosity. Yet it was this very animal, brought along for our own safety, that would soon come to endanger our lives.

On the third night as we made camp the mood was good, and the team were in high spirits. We were an odd mix of individuals but as a team we blended together well. Phil was a jovial person most of the time, which was great as this had a tendency to rub off on the rest of us. Mitchell was the reserved type and a bit of a disciplinarian. Sometimes he seemed more into the physical adventure than the research, but nevertheless his enthusiasm was infectious. Victoria looked more street than scientist, with her bleach blond mo-hawk and shaved sides. She was youngest member of the team, and fresh out of university. Her youthful inexperience gave the team a different perspective and she posed the questions that made us think outside of our normal constraints. Then there was me... the man who wanted to save the world. The man who still believed he could make a difference. That he could contribute in some way to finally getting the planet to stand up and take responsibility before it was too late. Maybe I was naive. But I was optimistic despite those who constantly disparaged our work, and the ones who said it was already too late.

Our cheerful mood soon changed for the worse. As I packed away my equipment for the night I heard a sonorous growl from behind me, like something I imagine to bellow from a beast in the prehistoric era. As I turned my head to check the source of this guttural sound, I watched in horror as without warning the Dog lunged at Phil. Phil turned away and tried to shield himself as best as he could, but the Dog was savage and relentless bit into him, tearing shreds out of his clothing and piercing deep into his flesh. Now some people will compare the Canadian Inuit Dog to a Wolf. But what I witnessed - the way this beast attacked... it looked like neither.

Mitchell was the quickest to act and lunged into the fray without hesitation. He grappled the animal and managed to drag him off Phil, but then by doing this he became the focus of the Dog's attack. As Mitchell wrestled the dog to the ground, I picked up my ski pole and smacked the dog on his hind legs as hard as I could, but it was like the dog was possessed and didn't feel pain. Mitchell screamed out as the dog fangs sank deep into his arm. Dropping the ski pole I reached around the Dog's neck in a choke hold, and he started thrashing around like some rodeo bronco. I was hoping to cling on long enough to make him pass out, but my thick jacket and gloves would not let me get a proper grip and I was thrown loose. The Dog now had eyes for me. I found myself on my backside staring down the gaping jaws of the beast and his bloodstained fangs. I reached out instinctively, grabbed my ski stick and as the Dog leapt upon me I managed to turn the pointed end in time to skewer the dog through the neck. As the beast lay there with thick ichor spilling from the wound and the flickering embers of his soul fading away, there was still a danger in his eyes… a hatred towards me that remained until his last rasping breath.

In a matter of seconds our peaceful camp was in pandemonium. The angelic white beneath our feet was now mottled with blood. I felt little consolation that, had I not been able to stop the Dog, Jessica who was unharmed, had unpacked her rifle and was ready to fire. Mitchell had some deep lacerations but nothing too serious we couldn't patch up ourselves. Phil on the other hand was in pretty bad shape. We treated his wounds as best as we could but despite our efforts he needed proper medical care. Our expedition was over.

I radioed Barneo Base for an emergency extraction, Erik our Russian colleague picked up the call. There was a chill in his voice, not from the cold, but from that which unnerves the soul. I explained that Phil had been badly wounded and would need to be flown to Longyearbyen for proper medical care. Erik asked what had happened and as soon as I said "The dog, he went mad ". Erik replied, "Oh my god, it's happening there too". At first I didn't know if Erik had taken me seriously, then he told me of the disturbing news.

Apparently the first reported incidents came from the South. Argentina, Brazil, South Africa, New Zealand, Australia. As if a contagious whisper infected the minds of animals across the southern hemisphere and forced them to turn on mankind. Erik had told me of the reports that had come through as the northern hemisphere braced itself for this wave of madness. Animals all across the world were abandoning their natural habitat and disregarding their evolutionary behaviour, invading the nearest populated area where they sought to murder man, woman, and child. Cats and dogs were the first to be reported in this wave of insanity, as people's beloved household pets turned on them without warning. Birds of all species gathered in ravenous swarms, and rained down from the sky attacking crowds of people, stripping them of their flesh right down to the bone. Even the might of technology bore the animals with no fear. Aircraft were taken down - military and airliners, as birds flew purposefully into their engines or relentlessly pummelled into the glass of their cockpits.

In South Africa, predators and their prey ran side by side. Herds of Buffalo and Lions trampled through the cities crushing thousands under their hoof and claws. Those who tried escape the stampede by hiding indoors were not ignored, as animals built with more agility continued the hunt.

Now before I came to the North Pole, I never had much reason to fear the wild. Back in England, the most we had to contend with was a some obnoxious owner's ill tempered dog. So you can forgive me for being a bit naive when it came to respecting nature. I remember my first ever expedition into the Arctic and the first time I got a close up look of a Polar Bear. Laying my eyes on that giant white beast only meters away, with his long snout and obsidian eyes - I remember feeling small and insignificant. Natuarlly I felt a great fear towards this beast as I did not understand him or know the rules of his behaviour. Over time the feeling subsided as my experience in the wild grew. Yet when Erik explained to me of what had was happening across the world... that feeling of insignificance returned. I didn't understand any of it. Nature was not conforming to the rules, every living creature was lost in madness, and I felt much worse than my encounter with that bear all those years ago.

Even at sea, people fell victim to the unseen aquatic life below. Sharks were the obvious threat, but even dolphins who you might say were mans best friend - in sea life terms, proved to be vicious predators too. There was stories of boats and yachts being overturned from creatures beneath them. Larger ships came under attack too, though the sea creatures where no match for the industrious hulls of a modern vessel. But where sea life failed, airborne animals would swoop in.

I couldn't believe what Erik was telling me. Had we not been set upon by our own dog I might not have believed him. He said he would try his best, but everyone around base was on edge. They were too scared to fly and they were preparing themselves for the worst. "Be prepared to ride this where you are," he said to me. "It might even be safer for you." Phil needed help urgently and I pleaded with him. He promised he would do his best. That was the last I heard from Erik.

I can only assume Erik and everyone at base are all dead now as my repeated attempts to reach Barneo go unanswered.

After speaking to Erik, I used the Iridium satellite phone to call back home. Mum answered. I was so glad she was okay, her voice was like a bit of warmth amongst my freezing surroundings. Like the caring mother she was, she seemed more concerned for my safety than her own. I convinced her I was alright but neglected to tell her about our encounter with the dog. Mum tried her best to hold it together, but I could hear it in her voice, the cracks were there in every sentence until she finally broke down. "Why?" She sobbed. "Why is this happening? What's wrong with them?" She sounded emotionally drained and I gathered this was not first time she had cried today. It was quite disturbing to hear your rock in life crumble, the one who had always comforted you as a child, who held it all together. The one person who at my grandfather's funeral held back her tears as much as she could so I would not get more upset at witnessing my mothers sadness.

"Maybe it was a disease," I told her. "Keep safe and barricade the house up until we figure out what to do. It will pass." I felt guilty, my last words to her were lies. Before I could speak to Dad, I lost the signal. Maybe I could have made it easier on my parents, had I told them what I really thought. Maybe they could have prepared for the end, allowed them to embrace each other one last time, say I love you before death came knocking at their door. This wasn't going to pass, Erik had also told me about the reports from the south, shortly after the animals attacked, of a second wave of carnage that was sweeping across the planet in the form of Insects. The final wave of cleansing Earth's pores of all human life. My Mum had asked me, why? And at the time I really had no idea. But now as I sit alone in the Arctic I ask myself the same question. The only answer I can come up with is we brought this on ourselves... And it will only end when we are all dead.

We had little expectation of being airlifted out. We made Phil as comfortable as we could, and created room on our sled as a makeshift stretcher. I decided it would be best for us to head back in the direction of Barneo by foot. We had enough supplies to last us four weeks but I figured we shouldn't waste time out here waiting to be rescued in-case they never came. We were better off to keep moving and check in on the radio each day until we could be airlifted out. That was the plan. I was even lying to myself.

On the second night after the attack we made camp and set up our perimeter fencing. Not long after struggling to fall asleep, I was worken as I heard a commotion outside our tent. All of us were up in an instant. An aggravated growl from outside made me tremor. Mitchell jumped up and went to exit the tent to check if the perimeter fence had held. Victoria hissed for Mitchell to stop. It didn't matter, whatever was out there knew we were inside. As Mitchell unzipped the tent the long muzzle of a Polar Bear poked through the slit and his ungainly body came charging through. Mitchell was knocked to ground and trampled on as the Bear went straight for Phil. Clamping his jaws into Phil's neck, the Bear shook his head violently from side to side and tore his throat out. Phil's gurgled screams faded to the sound of dripping blood. Seconds later a gunshot erupted and almost burst my ear drums.

Victoria had downed the Bear with a single bullet to the head. It laid there sprawled on it's side with blood stained around it's head and claws, like some sick prize to be won at the fairground. Phil looked worse, his jaw and neck were so mutilated I was forced to look away. I helped Mitchell to his feet and checked him over, he was badly bruised but nothing more.

A moment later a second Bear burst inside, tangled up in the remains of our perimeter fencing. Victoria managed a shot before being clawed across the face. Her shot hit the Bear but only wounded it. In the melee the tent collapsed. Amongst the muffled screams and panic, I could hear the bears guttural roar but I could not see him. I struggled to find my way out of the collapsed tent and as I clambered through the sheets towards an opening, something struck me on the head. As I emerged and struggled to remain conscious, I could hear the screams of Victoria in the distance. I caught sight of Mitchell calling after her as the wounded bear chased them over a mound and out of sight. That was the last I saw of them.

When I woke I was alone with only Phil's lifeless body, mummified in the fallen tent for company. I found Victoria's rifle, grabbed as much kit and supplies as I could and set off. I didn't know where to go, I had no plan, I just kept walking until my legs gave in.

It's only a matter of time before I die from the elements or nature catches up with me. With Victoria's rifle in my possession I've even contemplated on ending it myself. But for some stupid reason I can't. I'm not a religious person, never have been, but as the end nears, I find myself wondering what it there is an afterlife. I'm sure I read that people who commit suicide are not granted passage into heaven. So I better not take my own life just in-case. Who knows? Maybe this was all gods work? Maybe our judgement day has come? Maybe it was the Earth's natural defence, a switch that has always been there in the animals mind's, ready to turn on if we done too much damage… and like an abused wife pushed over the edge - mother nature was lashing out at her husband - mankind - for so many years of ill treatment towards her.

I may be the last person alive on this sea of ice. I may even be the last person alive in the world right now, and this might be the last recording of a human voice ever. But if I'm not and you are listening to this, it is only a matter of time.

…the end.