Chapter 1: When Shit Hits the Fan
A cool breeze swept through the house, stirring papers and curtains. The only sound heard throughout the house was that of television broadcasting the local news. The news anchor's voice was so monotonous and low. Another cool breeze ran through the house and this time it brought along a weird smell, a smell that Greg knew quite well of. It smelt like that of death and rotting flesh. The news anchor's voice no longer was monotonous, but sounded as if the depths of hell had presented itself to him. His face was pale and he stumbled to get the words out.
"At 12:55pm on July 20th, 2013, the CDC announced that a new yet rare virus was discovered in a lab that was located in Southern Africa. At 1:15pm on July 20th, 2013, the CDC announced that the workers inside of the lab in Southern Africa had come in contact with the virus. Four of those workers had ridden a plane over to the U.S. and had come in contact with many U.S. citizens. The CDC has now come out with a new announcement stating that the effects of this virus are…. sudden flu- like symptoms, sweating…. sudden death and……… reanimation. The CDC has stated that anyone who comes in contact with an infected human will only become infected themselves if they are bitten, exchange bodily fluids, scratched, or by blood transfer. The CDC has announced for everyone to stay in their homes."
Greg was confused, a virus that basically turned people into zombies? He quickly ran to the phone to call his wife. After punching the numbers in the phone rang and soon was answered.
"Alice where are you right now?"
"I'm on the highway right now coming home, why?
"They just announced on the news that there's some virus spreading rapidly that's, well, killing people and reanimating them into cannibalistic corpses. Get home now!"
"The radio just announced it too; I thought it was just some prank though."
"It's not a prank."
"The radio said that there was chaos in the cities, people killing and dying. I heard they brought in the National Guard too."
"Just get home."
"Alright I'll tr….. shit some asshole's blocking everybody from passing by. Listen I'm in a traffic jam of some sort. I'll be home in…"
"Alice? Alice? Alice!?"
The only response was that of a recorded message. "Hello, the current customer you are trying to call has been disconnected or has been given a new number, we're sorry for the mild inconvenience. Have a good day."
Greg slammed the phone down and ran over to his room. He opened the blinds that were on his window, he had a clear view of the highway from his room. Greg couldn't see Alice's car anywhere, so he grabbed his binoculars from his trunk located at the foot of his bed. He brought them up to his eyes and looked towards the highway. He spotted Alice's car. She was pretty much punching the wheel in order to honk the car horn. A plume of smoke was appearing from the front of the traffic jam. Greg moved his gaze towards the front of the traffic jam to find a man being ripped from his car by two deranged bloodied men. Greg stared in horror at the sight of the man being ripped in pieces by these men. One of the men turned its head towards somebody running from their car. The man started to jog towards the woman who tried to escape. She was tackled to the ground and was trying to fight the man off. She did not succeed. Greg looked away for a second, trying hard to keep himself from vomiting. But he brought himself to look back into the binoculars to find Alice. However, Alice was no longer in her car. The passenger side window was broken and the door was open.
"Alice! Son of a bitch!"
Greg sprinted over to his trunk. The opened trunk housed his uniform, backpack, plate carrier, and his weapons and ammo. He grabbed his M4A1 and a spare mag and headed to the highway. Running, that's all Greg could do. He ran and ran until reached the lowest part of the highway wall. After pulling himself over the wall all Greg could see was bloodied pavement, broken glass, dead bodies, and damaged cars. Only the sound of crunching came about when he cautiously stepped between the cars. The crunching came from the broken glass and shards of bones breaking underneath his shoes. Alice's car came within Greg's sight, he ran to it. He hoped that she was still near her car safe and sound. All he wanted right now was to see her big, green eyes. Only disappointment apparently had an appointment with him due to the fact that there was no sign that Alice was near or in the car. Greg searched everywhere just for a sign of her existence. Disappointment's appointment had been cancelled though because he found her shoe prints leading away from her car. Greg carefully followed them; they stopped near a pair of tire marks left by someone who was getting the hell out of dodge.
Greg quickly returned to his home. He grabbed his army digital uniform, OD green plate carrier, boots, and his green beret. Greg continued to stuff his backpack full of supplies including food, hydration bladder, extra water, road flares, ammunition, blankets, and any other survival gear. The plate carrier wrapped around him perfectly. The magazine pouches housed his six M4/M16 mags. On his plate carrier he also carried a med kit, an admin pouch with his patch on it, and a black M1911 holster. His M1911 slid snuggly into the holster; he clipped his strap onto his M4A1 and slid on his backpack. Greg gently laid his beret on the top of his shaven head. Ready, no one but Greg fit this description and now his journey into hell had begun.