Death on My Front Porch

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
When a bio-weapon went wrong in India, it's creator-- Dr. Tapa became patient zero and began a epidemic that turns humans into crazed creatures called the "infected".
In Houston Texas, Brooklyn and her small family must learn to survive and thrive in a world of chaos and death and every corner to try and make a cure.
Will Brooklyn decide that mere existence is not a enough or will she and her family be the world's salvation?

Submitted: June 27, 2014

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Submitted: June 27, 2014

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DEATH ON MY FRONT PORCH

I had a dream that I was my old self. I had my beautiful wavy blonde locks and my bright eyes looked decked out in the best mascara. I was wearing a beautiful lace crop top and high waisted ombre demin jean shorts. I looked like one of those instagram famous girls that I used to envy. In this dream I was laughing with my friends Kelsey Michaels and Aria Brown. My two best friends and I were walking into my room talking about boys until my dream ended and I woke up sweaty.

Back to reality.

I woke up sweaty and confused on my cot and rubbed the back of my short greasy blonde head. I rubbed my eyes with my dirty hands and realized then that I could definitely use a bath, or even a bucket of water. I wish I could relive my wonderful dream, but reality had already slapped me in the face and was leaving me spinning.

The world wasn’t the same as it used to be, and I wasn’t the same as I used to be. I no longer envied those beautiful instagram girls—well they were probably dead too, and I no longer cared about the new mascara or my cute clothes that I left behind. I missed my beautiful hair on some occasions but when the infection first broke out, my neighbor Luanne (a friend of my mom’s) chased after me while I frantically ran to my car and yanked a chunk of hair out of my head in attempt to grab me. I didn’t like reminiscing on what she would’ve done if she got her hands on me.

The infection began two years ago and spread from India to Houston Texas in a matter of three short weeks. While people died and turned in India, my parents watched the News from our couches—worried of course. We came up with a plan to bunker up in the house—it was a smart move compared to many, who decided to flee just a few days before the infection took full effect. While everyone was leaving we were staying. Those three weeks were weeks of stress and anxiety. It’s like when someone pretends to slap you in the face and you blink rapidly. It was one of those situations. We had bought cases of water, Dad went to Lowes to buy thick metal sheets and screwed them over the windows, Mom and I went to the grocery store and got as many canned foods as we could, and my sister Mackenzi continued to whine about not being allowed to play outside with her friends like she used to. Mackenzi was only eight and she didn’t really understand. My parents didn’t want to scare her but I disagreed—I told her anyway so she could understand. Just like I thought she would react, Mackenzi shrugged her shoulders and asked a bunch of questions. Naïve ones too—like, “Are they zombies?” and “Well zombies are slow! I know because in Plants vs. Zombies the zombies are pretty slow, right?”

While dad reinforced the house I made sure Mackenzi was okay after what I told her. I love Mackenzi, she was just like me as a kid. She was a tomboy in her prime—the typical busted knees and cap on the head type of tomboy. Mackenzi was a tough little thing, and declared she wasn’t scared. In those short weeks Mackenzi complained and whined about the curfew that the city put in effect.

I should’ve known that the media was a bad source to trust. The news reported that the infection spread overseas and was spread by bite or bodily fluids like spit and all that lovely stuff. It had reached the coast of New York and once New York was “dark” that’s when things got serious. New York was quarantined but that didn’t stop Mrs. Luanne from charging at me when I was going to drive to the Toys R US one day to buy Mackenzi a toy and try to cheer her up. Shaking and scared I barely made it in my car without getting bit and I managed to make a bloody mess out of Mrs. Luanne—and her whole family. Mrs. Luanne—well I shouldn’t even call her by that anymore—it just makes it harder to deal with. Once you change who you used to be no longer existed. She behaved like a wild animal that had rabies. She shouldn’t even be associated as a she—more like an IT.

IT happened all fast.

IT was UGLY. Blood shot eyes replaced Luanne’s green ones and blood was spurting out of her mouth and nose and the corners of her eyes like tears. IT tried to spit at me and twitched when she missed her target.

I almost slammed the car door when IT ripped my hair out and I screamed bloody murder.

IT wouldn’t give up and when I slammed the door IT’s hand was caught inside with me. I broke Luanne’s hand.

I shrieked and put the car into reverse and yanked IT along with me. IT was dragging on the driveway and I think I busted IT’s knee caps when IT hit the curb.

IT was yanked loose with IT’s hand still in my car. I put the car in drive and ran Luanne over. Not once but a few times.

“Die bitch! Die!”

Once IT lay on the floor dead I wept until I saw IT’s husband and their kids run out in the same twitching crazed manner. The husband threw himself on my windshield and successfully cracked the hell out of it and managed to get a chunk of it stuck in his chest. I put my car in reverse again and ran over their son named Todd. I always hated him. Todd screeched in pain and I ran over him again killing him instantly. Luanne’s husband and younger daughter Mary were harder to kill. Mary jumped on top of my car trying to find a way to get to me and the husband jumped on my hood. I knew in that moment that if I didn’t kill him he would break my windshield and I would be their main course.

I reversed and jumped the curb of the house behind me and then putting it in drive I slammed on the gas and closed my eyes once I made contact with the husband. It was bloody and gross. Mary lost interest in me and ran off to a dog that barked at the commotion from down the street.

Dad, Mom, and Mackenzi rushed outside to me but Dad ordered Mackenzi to stay inside. I got out the car with caution and looked at the dead bodies I slaughtered. It was a blood bath from the driveway to the street.

I looked at Mom and Dad and I began to cry. They hugged me and embraced me but Dad said, “Get inside,” and by the tone of his voice we all knew what he was thinking.

IT was here. The infection was here—and all too soon than anyone expected.

 

Everything happened very fast after I recovered from my nerves from being attacked. My father patted me on the back then proceeded to lock the house up. I watched him lock the windows, door, and the garage. Dad had said that the garage might be a problem. It was such a wide door and he could only reinforce it so much.

“Those things may eventually get in,” he told Mom and I once Mackenzi left dinner a week ago.

Dad found a way though.

 

 

The only sounds that we heard after the incident and hours later into the night was a horrible combination of screaming, guns shooting, ambulances, and the crazed sounds of the infected that would run by our house.

All our lights were out and dad ordered me to turn on the bath tub water for the restrooms upstairs and down stairs before the water was cut off. Just when the water was going to overflow in both tubs I stopped the water and Dad, Mom, and Mackenzi helped me fill big Ozarka canisters and we carried them into the living room. Mom wasn’t convinced that the tub water was safe and I watched my parents argue about it in very hush tones.

“What if the infection is in the water Steve? What will we do now? We have about twenty cases of water! Why do we need the tap,” argued Mom.

“Fine Stephanie, we won’t use the damn tub water,” he whispered sharply.

Mackenzi and I cuddled on the couch and I never took my eyes away from the windows and doors. I was afraid and Mackenzi stayed silent in what I presumed was shock.

Dinner was bearable but none of us finished our food. Everyone was too shaken up.

“I want you all to listen to me right now,” said Dad sternly.

We all dropped our plastic forks and stopped to look at him.

“Let me discuss to you what I do know.”

We waited anxiously.

“What I do know is that this is a virus, it spreads through blood and bodily fluids like spit and through sexual organs. I also know that when you are infected with the virus it attacks you immediately. I did research and this virus was bred in a lab in India to use as a bio weapon against any future enemies. The person that made the virus is Dr. Tapa—Dr. Tapa infected himself by what I assume would be an accident and begun attacking people in the workplace. He bit them and would beat them up badly. Dr. Tapa was patient zero. Weeks before Dr. Tapa was infected the News broadcasted that India was in the process of making bio weapons. The government in the U.S. wanted to shut this down but it was already too late. The president decided to keep his nose in America’s business and—well, look what that did for us. Anyway, Dr. Tapa declared that this virus would have the effect of arsenic and would kill any person who was exposed to it in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately in a matter of a week or so the virus mutated and when Dr. Tapa discovered this he was fascinated in what he created and ended up pricking his own damn finger in the lab. How surprising right? I know that Houston will be quarantined by tomorrow morning and nobody will ever be able to get in or out. ”

I shuddered when he said “in or out,” I felt entrapped. Well, we all were entrapped and there was nothing we could do about it. Stay safe and don’t flee, or get shot down and attacked by the monsters outside. My mind wandered about Dr. Tapa—how could someone so smart be so stupid. His stupidity was killing everyone—literally! I knew that if Dr. Tapa was still alive he would be guilty to a homicide of millions of people. He was lucky that he died before he could be prosecuted.

“One more thing—and this is important. When Dr. Tapa and thousands of others in India grew sick they eventually grew hungry and fed on humans after they attacked them.”

I thought I would be sick. If Mr. and Mrs. Luanne were to get their hands on me they would’ve eaten me? What in the actual FUCK. I shivered when I realized that I let Mary Luanne get away. She probably ate that poor dog and torn others apart.

“Daddy, that’s called cannibalism. My friend Christopher said his Uncle was a cannibal. Are they cannibals Dad?” Mackenzi asked with wide eyes.

“Sort of sweetie, now listen.”

I saw Mom tear up and put her hand over her mouth in utter shock.

“Here are some ground rules. The water is still running—but we aren’t going to use it. It could be contaminated and we don’t know how good these things can hear. The toilet can be flushed after everyone has used it once. At night we will stay in the basement on some cots that I bought at the store a few weeks ago. We are all sleeping down there because in case of an emergency we can all be together. Keep your cell phones on you and we will look at the news and news on the phones until it goes off air. India is dead right now—literally everyone in India is either dead, dying, or turning into the infected. It won’t take long before Houston is dark too. We never go anywhere alone and no food is to be wasted.”

Everyone nodded and Mom got out of her chair to get food that would spoil and laid it on the table.

“You heard your father. We need to eat this food before it spoils.”

I rolled up some cheese and ham and ate it, Mackenzi ate her cold mac and cheese, Mom drank a glass of milk with dad and ate some meat from the fridge.

We all sat in silence and listened to the noises from outside then went down the basement.

What could we do now? Well I couldn’t do anything. I had nobody to text or call to check on and I was scared. I had Aria and Kelsey but when I called their phones went straight to voicemail. I shuddered at the thought that they were probably dead by now. Aria mentioned that her parents wanted to evacuate and live out on the oil rigs—as good as that idea sounded it didn’t sound to hopeful in this moment. I hoped she made it. Kelsey worried me—she talked about killing herself but then told me that was nonsense and that after this whole thing blew over she would come back from California. I highly doubt she got there before everything was shut down. I was still hopeful.

Mackenzi and I lay on one bigger cot. I put ear plugs in her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear the horrible sounds of guns firing and those freaks lurking in the night. Dad said that we all had to sleep without them to hear our surroundings.

I felt a tear roll out my left eye once I realized how bad of a situation we were in and what was going on. We were existing as pawns to this virus, rolling with the hits and punches. I understood Kelsey when she told me that she wanted to die before shit went down. We were EXISTING, not living. We were ten feet underground listening to death come up to our front porch.

 

 

The morning began when I shimmied out of bed thinking I had a bad nightmare and nothing bad was going on. I was halfway up the basement stairs to get cereal once I realized why we were all down here in the first place. I walked down the stairs in the same shock and disbelief as yesterday and wondered how I even slept at all. I remembered Dad declared that we do nothing alone so I lay back in my cot and yanked the covers off to discover that Mackenzi wasn’t next to me and the basement door was cracked open.

I swallowed my nerves and grabbed a bat that lay beside my Dad’s cot. Nothing could be inside the house anyway—not with everything locked up and we certainly would have heard it. Right?

“Easy girl. It’s okay Brooklyn,” I whispered to myself even though I hated being called Brooklyn.

I opened the door with caution and saw Mackenzi climbing on the counters trying to reach a box of cereal. A sigh of relief left my mouth and Mackenzi spun around and gave me a soft smile.

“There’s only Fruity Pebbles. Want to split the last of the milk with me?” Mackenzi asked while she shook the box of Fruity Pebbles to see what was left of it.

“Just enough,” she said while grabbing two bowls and handed me one.

“You know you weren’t supposed to go up here by yourself. If dad were to find out—“

“Dad won’t find out because I love you and you wouldn’t snitch on me because I’m cute.” Mackenzi smirked.

“Fine, hand over the cereal.”

Mackenzi and I sat and ate our cereal in silence. The only noise that I heard outside was a dog barking and it sounded close.

I heard a few gunshots in the distance—but no more screams.

I nearly peed myself when Dad barged through the basement door with his old crossbow and a trash bag.

“I need to kill that dog!” He hissed.

“What? You can’t kill an innocent animal!” Mackenzi shrieked and I covered her mouth with my hand while she squirmed.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well isn’t it obvious enough Brooklyn?” He snapped and I frowned.

“Look I’m sorry but that dog needs to die, he is causing a lot of noise and he is going to draw those things straight for us.”

“Daddy! You can’t do that! Let him come in, please!” Mackenzi begged but it wasn’t good enough this time. Usually Mackenzi had Dad wrapped around her finger but he wouldn’t be convinced this time.

Dad looked out the backyard window and slowly walked outside closing the door behind him softly.

I watched from the window. The dog was barking and growling and faced the trees in our backyard. The dog was an Italian Greyhound from down the street. Abby I think.

My father was just about to launch the arrow when Mackenzi barged out the door past me and grabbed my dad’s arm causing him to drop the cross bow.

The door was wide open now and what happened, happened really fast.

I ran out the door and yanked Mackenzi away from my Dad. She kicked and squirmed and kicked me in the stomach and I gasped.

The dog turned around and was foaming at the mouth and looked wild. Abby charged at my father and Dad shot her before she could reach the door.

The dog was infected.

Mackenzi cried in my arms and shook and I realized at that point how scared she had been this whole time.

“Move!” Dad yelled and shut the door hard.

“What the hell were you thinking Kenz!! You could’ve gotten me killed!” Dad snapped.

“I-I didn’t know it was bad daddy,” Mackenzi stammered.

I let her go and looked out the window.

“Dad!!”

The noise we made attracted a crowd of crazed infected. They sprinted in the backyard screaming and spitting their blood all around the yard as if they were marking their territory. I screamed when one rammed it’s face against the fiber glass window.

“Basement now!” Dad screamed and I carried Mackenzi in my arms and ran down the basement.

Dad pulled a thick sheet of metal and locked the windows and door down.

“What’s going on?” Mom said with fear in her eyes.

Dad once told me that Mom had special eyes. They were brown and reminded me of soft chocolate chip cookies. Dad told me that her eyes were like heaven to look at, but in this very moment they only spread more fear.

I gave her Mackenzi and Mom tried to comfort her.

“The infected—they’re here and we are all going to die!” I shook and ran to my cot.

Dad brushed shook his head in anger and slammed the basement door behind him and locked it shut.

Dad and Mom held Mackenzi and I sat next to them. We were all terrified and with every nasty thump and bump we heard we cringed. The screams of the infected persisted until late that night keeping everyone on edge.

If Dad wouldn’t have changed the windows to fiber glass, reinforced the door with thick metal sheets and locks I was convinced we would all be dead right now.

Hunger came over us eventually and we all ate canned fruit in silence until pulled out some scissors from a drawer.

“Brooklyn, your hair has to go.” He said

I looked at him dumbfound and confused. I clutched my hair.

“No.” I said with attitude. I needed my hair.

“Enough of this bullshit! You all need to listen to me!” Dad bellowed.

“Now Steven—“

“No Stephanie! Do I have to explain everything to you Steph? Do I have to Brook?”

I shook my head.

“These things grab and if they have anything to grab onto it’ll be either your hair or your clothes.”

I thought about this.

“Now Brooklyn, you don’t want to die do you?”

“No sir.” I spat.

“Drop the attitude and get your ass in this chair.”

“Steven!” Mom growled.

“You too Steph, the hair has to go.”

I have never seen my Dad In this state and he was scaring me.

I sat in the chair and cried like a baby while Dad chopped off my pony tail. It took him a few tries and I knew it would be all fucked up and jagged. Once my twelve inch pony tail was gone I felt bald. More hot tears ran down my cheeks when Dad snipped more off.

Once he was done I jumped off the chair and laid on my cot next to Mackenzi. Her eyes were glued onto her Ipod while she played Hungry Shark.

“Kenzi, we need that to find out news,” I mumbled.

“Whatever,” said Mackenzi and turned her Ipod off.

“Kenz, you’re next.” Dad said.

Mackenzi walked to the chair without a word.

Mackenzi didn’t mind, she was a tomboy at heart and all she ever did with her hair was part it in the middle and tucked it behind her ears or put it into a bumpy low pony. She always said she hated her long hair because it made her neck super hot in the summer when she would play outside.

Once Mackenzi’s hair was chopped, it was Moms turn in the hot seat. She didn’t cry like I did but she complained.

“You didn’t have to talk to Brook like that Steve.”

“Well we almost got attacked! I was frustrated.

Mom rubbed Dad’s beefy shoulder with her smooth slender hands.

I entertained Mackenzi and let her play on her Ipod before Dad saw.

I rubbed the jagged clumps of hair on my head and stared at my blonde hair that was once attached to me but was now dying on the concrete floor.

I lie next to my mother and let her hold me like she used to when I was Mackenzi’s age. I was 18 at that time and touch of her cool palms against my forehead calmed me down.

Dad apologized before to me before I fell asleep and I nodded.

The world was ending right before my eyes. I couldn’t hold a grudge.

It had been two long miserable years since my hair was cut that night.  My hatred for Dr. Tapa continued and I stunk.

I was by myself in the basement and Mackenzi was on the roof shooting any stray infected she could spot—it was like a wicked game of I Spy. At the ripe age of ten years old, Mackenzi was comfortable with killing the infected. She’s a tough girl with a sweet heart.

Dad was out on a run. He was getting more water and canned foods.

Mom was dead.

She died two weeks after dad cut her hair. The day our hair was cut marked two years ago, I remember it easily and I knew two weeks after my hair was chopped off Mom died. I missed her so much, the pain went away though. Now it was just a dull pain in my heart.

Mom died while out on a run with Dad while I watched Mackenzi. Mackenzi and I were in hysterics when he walked through door with blood all over his hands and shirt and tears running down his face.

“Mom didn’t make it,” I shook like a leaf and Mackenzi burst into tears.

I did too.

We all did.

Dad was never the same since that day, but he was getting better and our relationship was stronger than ever.

Every time I ask how she died he never told me.

I assume it was the worst death possible.

I should check on Mackenzi.

I jogged upstairs to the attic to get to her but stopped in my room. I hadn’t slept in it since the day I was attacked by Mrs. Luanne. My bed was still neatly made like it had been two years ago, and my clothes were splayed out on the floor as if it was just yesterday that I threw them there.

I stopped in front of the mirror. My curves were gone and I was skin and bones. I looked disgusting—and even though I used to always complain about my body I never have hated it this much.

My elbow bones were sharp and jutted out, along with my chin and strong jaw. I looked older than just twenty years old—I looked twenty eight on a good day and thirty on most days. I was rail thin and my mind was full of nightmares.

I was no longer scared to die. I wanted to die. Death would be my salvation. It would be my justice that I deserved. The only thing I cared about was Mackenzi and my father. They were all I had left.

I had no boyfriend in my old life, my mother was gone, and both my grandparents were dead before the apocalypse.

I thought I was once beautiful—because I was.

I stared at my own photos that I took with Kelsey and Aria months before shit went down.

Photography used to be my thing. I took pictures of Kelsey and Aria like they were models. We would have photo shoots all the time. The best photo I took was of Aria. The photo was blown up on my wall. She was surrounded by sunflowers in a field by her house and the sun was hitting her face in the most perfect way. She laid on the ground with her red hair fanned out. Her hair resembled fire because the sunlight made it look like embers. Her pale freckled skin and green eyes added more beauty to the shot.

I had a smaller portrait of Kelsey wearing her mother’s old wedding dress. It looked vintage so we thought it would look good in the picture. It did. Kelsey was stunning in her own way. She was unique looking and her personality was too—that made her beautiful. Her wheat colored hair was curled softly and she just stared back at the camera in the beautiful fitted lace gown.

I stared at another picture of myself, it was when I had long hair and it was down my back. I smiled.

Kelsey and Aria were dead.

I remember Kelsey said she was committing suicide because she didn’t want to live in a world like this. She died a week after my mother did by overdose. She lived a block away and Dad couldn’t stop me from running to her house.
 

I used my machete and sliced through the diseased IT’s that once used to be humans. They were animals. I made it to Kelsey’s just in time to see her dead in her bed and almost got killed by a crowd of infected myself. Angry and scared I cursed at Kelsey’s dead body and called her a coward. I ran out the door and home, regretting my harsh words to Kelsey.

Aria tried to stay alive but she just wasn’t fit to survive in a place like this. Aria died the day the infection got here. She was at the mall when it hit instead of evacuating because Houston squashed those plans. Nobody was allowed to leave the state and the people that did either barely made it or died trying. I assumed she gave up and went to go on her last shopping spree without inviting me I guess, and never made it out. I never got to say goodbye and found out she had died a month after it happened when I killed her with my own blade. She became infected and with rotten luck I ran into her on my first run. It was ugly and a brutal fight. Aria was a bigger girl—she wasn’t fat but she was 5’11’’ and weighed in at 180 pounds. She was tough to kill—physically and emotionally.

I thought it couldn’t get worse but with my luck it surely did get much worse. I raided Kelsey’s house days after she died to get pictures of her and food from her kitchen if she had any left. I went to Kelsey’s room to grab an album or two when I noticed she wasn’t in her bed. Where she had once laid was replaced by a pool of dry blood.

As if on cue I heard growling and hissing—then thumping up the stairs. I ran into her closet and noticed I was weaponless. My machete was on her bed and whatever was coming up the stairs was already in the room. I peeked through the slim cracks of the closet and got a nasty view of Kelsey with half her face eaten off. This meant only one thing. We all carried Dr. Tapa’s virus in our blood and it would stay dormant until you died, then the virus would activate itself and cause reanimation.

Kelsey behaved different than any of those things. She was more calm and collective. She was obviously still a threat and dangerous but she showed more humanly behavior. I told myself that I would need to let Dad know.

Kelsey stood still in front of her vanity and stared at herself twitching occasionally for some time then picked up a photo of us.

No fucking way. Does she remember her old life??

Maybe this was good. Maybe she could be trained to not be aggressive. I was about to come out the closet when I saw her go batshit crazy like all the other typical infectants. She threw herself on the ground and spit up nasty fluid everywhere. She was having a fit. I watched her in disgust—this was gross.

After a few minutes Kelsey lay very still. I thought she had chocked on her own vomit until she was up again. She moaned and moved her body in very odd ways but made her way to the window. From behind she looked normal and pretty clean—but the front was a different story.

I slipped out fast and grabbed my machete.

Kelsey whirled around and barred her teeth at me. Some of them were missing and others looked animal like. I guess her gums were deteriorating making her canines look unusually long and beastly.

I couldn’t kill her. We needed to make a cure. She was different than the others so the virus recently evolved. I knew it was in all of our bodies lying dormant. I had no idea how to begin with getting Kelsey back to the house with both of us in one piece. The thought of killing Kelsey like I killed Aria made shudder all over again, but the thought of putting my family at risk made me shake like a leaf. I knew what I had to do.

I charged towards her before she could attack and using the butt of my sword, I hit her in the middle of her forehead—knocking her out cold instantly.

I needed to work fast. I was going to open her vein and collect some blood to bring with me. I didn’t know how long Kelsey would be out so cut her vein with the tip of my machete. Her skin was as thin as toilet paper and blood flowed out like lava. I grabbed an empty cup and cleaned it with some dusty germ-X that  I had spotted on her vanity and cleaned out the cup to the best of my abilities. I tilted her gray colored arm and let the blood flow into the cup. Just when I gotten a fourth of its full Kelsey woke up and I hit her back to her unconscious state.

When I was finished I knew what I had to do. I knew Kelsey didn’t want to be one of them. That’s why she killed herself. I said a quick prayer and turned my head, then sliced her throat. I didn’t turn my head because I was scared to see the bloodiness—I turned my head because I knew these things had a tendency to squirt their blood out. If any got in my eye, mouth, ears, or an open wound I would be like her within an hour.

 

The trek home was unusually quiet and relaxing. I carried the cup of Kelsey’s blood in one hand and my machete in the other. I was careful though—one thing that was bad about this virus was that if an infectant approached you and looked slow and rotting it could still be as fast as a fresh one. Some were wicked fast and other were crazy slow. It was odd but more often than not all the fat, elderly, and weak infected were the fast ones and the ones who turned as a child, young adult, or infant (yes infant)were the slow ones. Easiest to kill but hardest mentally because who would want to live their life putting blades through child heads and baby brains? Twisted. This made me hate Dr. Tapa even more.

Looking out for animals was hard because even the smallest of animals could carry the virus—anything as small as a roach and as big as a bear had the same threat level. Both were super dangerous but one was easier to kill.

I saw two infected lions roam my street last week. The infection made them look wild as they should so their behavior was more confusing—wild animal or infected? They behaved the same way.

Shit, I could use a drink. It amused me how bottled alcohol was probably the safest beverage to drink nowadays. Who the hell cared about their liver in a time like this? Surely not me.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED.. MORE SOON

 

 

 


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