God is Dead

*When I wrote this story in word, it had 3985 words. For some reason, the word counter on the site seems to display this incorrectly.

Beep Beep Beep.

Click.

I look at the time. 7:30 a.m. Ugh. English class starts in an hour. I have been sleeping through my alarm for at least 10 minutes. I sigh. I’ll only have 20 minutes to get ready.

I get out of bed, groaning with exhaustion. I sit down at the kitchen counter, making myself some cereal. I see Cynthia walk in, wearing a nightgown. She looks even angrier than usual.

Cynthia is my stepmother. And boy do I hate her. My father has been sick for several months now, and his medication has made him an entirely different person. It seems like he’s barely even there, just an empty shell of a man. Cynthia basically has authority over me, since my father certainly is in no condition to. She now has the house and the car, which is why I have to commute to College every day since she won't let me use it.

Cynthia stands still and stares at me. She has brown, curly hair and a large face. Her brown eyes stare at me piercingly.

“Don’t eat in my presence, you little shit. Get out of my face.”

“Excuse me?” I say, shocked. She’s usually rude, but not at this level.

“Get out!”

I get up and throw my bowl into the sink, cursing her under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

She starts marching towards me.

“Nothing!” I shout. “I said nothing!”

She grabs me by the collar.

“Listen here you bastard, if I ever hear you disrespect me like that again, you will regret it!”

“...”

“Answer!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She lets go of me. I walk into my room and continue getting ready for school.

I go to Champlain College in Middlebury, Vermont. My father and I moved here only five years ago after my mother went missing. Things were great until he met that woman. She was rude to me but always hid it from my father. But when he got sick, it became much much worse. I’m not exactly sure what he has, but his treatment requires a lot of delirious medication.

Cynthia then went completely ballistic. She beats me and bosses me around, all while my father is incapable of doing anything. The only thing that keeps me going was the hope of my father becoming better since I know he would never allow this if he was completely there.

I glance at my watch. Only 10 minutes until the bus reaches the stop a few houses away from mine. I brush my teeth, get dressed, and head out, ready to spend another day suffering in class.

The bus ride is… odd. Usually, it is silent, filled with fellow students who are suffering from lack of sleep, but today it’s… much more talkative. After eavesdropping on a few conversations, I realize what the chatter is about. Zerkon-X. Zerkon-X is a disease similar to rabies which has been spreading in the Eastern Hemisphere, with a few cases appearing in the US. It causes people to become aggressive and attack others, usually with their teeth. And apparently, there are a few cases that have surfaced in Middlebury, near the College and High School.

I shrug it off. It was probably just some stupid town or internet rumour. I highly doubt the schools and stores would still be open if Zerkon was such a huge problem. I have more important things to focus on, like my History test later that day. I grab my notes and read for the rest of the bus ride.

I get off the bus, looking at the castle-like structure in front of me. I enter through the building’s front gates, realizing how serious things are. There are dozens of soldiers standing in the main entrance, all armed with machine guns. One of them, standing at the front, is passing a scanner to people’s heads, checking them for disease. I walk up to the soldier, standing still in front of him. As he’s scanning my head, he asks me a few questions.

“Name?”

“Jackson Jennings.”

“Have you been outside of the state of Virginia in the past 30 days?”

“No.”

“Do you have any of the following symptoms: coughing, sneezing, fever, headaches, or unusual hunger?”

Unusual what? Okay, this is serious.

“No.”

“Very well,” he says as he removes the scanner. “You’re good to go. Make sure to let us know if ever you or someone around you may be suffering from said symptoms.”

“Shouldn’t school be closed under these circumstances?”

He pats my shoulder as I read his nametag. Officer George Peterson.

“Everything is under control. Move along, kid.”

I sigh and walk through the school’s hallways, in deep thought. Are things really “in control”?

My thoughts are cut short by Tom, my best friend, walking up to and startling me.

“What’s up? I scared you a little?”

I chuckle.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about this Zerkon thing.”

“It’ll be fine,” he reassures me. “The government has got this under control, they always do.”

I look down.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Suddenly, a familiar figure walks by. She is short, has long brown hair and blue eyes. She holds Tom’s hand and he kisses her. I watch in disgust. She turns to me.

“Hey, Jackson.”

“Hey, Jen.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, just heading to class. Gotta study for a test later.”

“Well, I hope it goes well!” She smiles.

“Thanks,” I smile back.

We stare at each other awkwardly before Tom steps in.

“Well, we better get going,” he says as he pulls her towards him, starting to walk down the hallway. “I’ll see you around, man.”

“See ya.”

Jen turns around and waves at me before disappearing out of my sight. I sigh. I’ve had a crush on her for the longest time, and seeing my best friend with her still hurts. I look at my watch. 8:28. Better get to class.

9:15 a.m.

My mind is drifting away. I have been listening to Mr. Nichols ranting about Shakespeare for about 20 minutes, and I think I’m about to pass out.

“And here we have Sonnet 18.”

Please. I can’t take this anymore. I glance at my watch. Just another 45-

POW!

What was that?

Mr. Nichols stops talking. Everyone in the room looks around in panic. The intercom goes off.

“We are in an active shooter situation. This is not a drill. Please follow the procedures and stay calm.”

Stay calm?! In a situation like this?!

Mr Nichols’ eyes are wide with shock. He points to a few students.

“You! Help me barricade the door! Grab some chairs and tables! The rest of you sit in the corner quietly! Help will arrive soon enough!”

My classmates and I sit in the corner of the room in complete silence. A few kids call their parents. I glance at my phone, thinking about calling Cynthia. I decide I’d rather not. She’s the last person who would try and help the situation. Amidst the panic, most people don’t notice one girl sitting in the corner coughing.

Her coughs start to get louder. Some people start to whisper among each other. Mr. Nichols goes up to her. Although I don’t hear what they say, I see a worrying look on his face. But it’s not like he can exactly kick her out.

Her coughs get worse and worse. People move away from her. She starts to cough up blood. The students begin riling up. One guy speaks up.

“Sir, we can’t stay in the same room as her! She’s infected with that virus for sure!”

“Now now Justin, don’t-”

“I’m not dying in here, sir! Not from the shooter, not from whatever she has!”

Some students stand up, agreeing with him. Mr. Nichols panics.

“What do you want me to do? There’s a shooter in the school for Christ’s sake!”

“Throw her out!”

“What?”

“I said: throw her out!”

“Yeah!” another student says. “She’s dangerous!”

The girl stands up.

“This is insane! You’re going to throw me out like an animal?! Mr. Nichols, do something!”

Mr. Nichols walks back.

“I-”

POW POW! More gunshots ring through the school, coming from the hallway. More students start coughing.

Hysteria breaks out. Some people think fighting is the only answer, and so grab desks and chairs. Others try to escape, hopping out of the window, despite the fact that we’re on the third floor. Then, the girl collapses. She starts violently coughing up blood. Mr. Nichols runs to her side. The professor pulls out his phone.

“Hello, Principal Edith? Send a medic and an ambulance to my classroom immediately once the shooter has been taken care of! It’s urgent!”

He pats her back.

“It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay…”

I open my phone once again. I start writing a message for my father.

Hey, dad.

There’s a situation at school. I might not survive today. I just want you to know that, whenever you’ll be well enough to fully comprehend this, I love you. Also, you need to leave Cynthia. Amidst your horrible condition, she has-

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!”

I look up. Mr. Nichols’ throat has been ripped out. Blood is everywhere. The girl is on top of him, chewing on his flesh. My classmates and I stare in shock. Chaos ensues. Other sick students collapse to the floor and start violently coughing up blood. The girl gets up and starts walking towards the group of terrified students.

One tries to speak to her.

“Step back! We’ll hurt you if we have to!”

But she doesn’t. She bites into the student’s arm, making him scream in pain.

“Help me!”

No one comes to his aid. We’re all terrified, standing in the corner of the room. The girl continues attacking students, who are unable to hold her back. Other sick students start getting up and attacking people just like her. They all share the same traits: sunken eyes surrounded by dark circles and aggressive chewing. Oh yeah, and eating people.

Armed students start trying to hit them, but only topple them back slightly. I run to the front door.

“Someone help me take away this barricade!”

Students start rushing to my aid while others try and hold back the infected. We throw the chairs and desks out of the way just as the main group starts getting pushed closer to the wall. I open the classroom door and look out into the hallway, greeted by the sound of gunshots. My god.

There was no school shooter. It was the military. Bodies are everywhere. Soldiers march through the hallway shooting at dozens of students, many of whom aren’t even infected. A student behind me speaks up.

“Why aren’t you going? Let me-” he begins stepping out of the classroom.

POW! He is immediately shot by a soldier.

“Stay inside!” he shouts. “The infected are dangerous to be close to!”

I stare at him in shock.

“You… you... Just killed him… He wasn’t even infected!”

The man lifts his gun at me.

“I’ll shoot you too if you don’t go back inside!”

“You’re… you’re a monster!”

“Go. Back. Inside!”

I turn around and look back at the classroom where the crowd of students is getting smaller and smaller as many continue to get picked off.

“I can’t! They’re inside too!”

“What?!” the soldier shouts as he runs towards me. He looks inside the classroom. The group of students is now minuscule, backing closer towards us and the door as the dozens of infected push them back.

“My god… you’re all infected!” He lifts his gun.

“No!” a student shouts as he bashes a chair over the soldier’s head. He falls to the ground. The remaining half a dozen students and I rush out the door as the soldier gets eaten by the infected. I slam the door.

“Why did you do that?!” another student yells at the chair-basher. “You just killed that guy!”

“He was going to kill us!” he replies. “Look!”

He points further down the hallway, where soldiers continue shooting all students, infected or not.

“They were going to kill us no matter what! It needed to be done!”

“Then we need to get the hell out of here!” I yell as soldiers down the hallway turn to look at us.

“Follow me!” the other student yells.

As we’re running down the hallway and the main stairwell, I talk to our saviour.

“Thanks. You saved us.”

“I saved myself. You just happened to be there.”

My face winces.

“What’s your name?”

“Devon.”

“Jackson.”

“Nice to meet you. Hopefully, I won’t have to put you down later.”

I don’t answer. I already know that guy is weird since I have a few classes with him. His long black hair covers his eyes, making him look almost emo. Despite the bizarre behaviour, I’m staying by his side. It seems like he knows what he was doing.

We continue going down the stairwell and reach the first floor, greeted by bodies and blood. We luckily don’t come across any infected until we reach the main entrance. There are at least 30 of them, all wandering around and eating corpses off the ground. We stand still in shock. We grab chairs, books, and even phones, ready to fight.

Suddenly, gunshots ring from our left. Two soldiers fire their machine guns into the pack of infected, killing around 10 instantly. I realize who one of them is: Officer Peterson, the man who originally greeted me here today. The infected turn their attention away from us and start marching towards Peterson and his partner. They pick them off one by one, killing them all within only a few seconds. We just stare in shock.

Peterson’s partner draws a pistol and stares at us. We suddenly remember what other soldiers were doing earlier. Devon draws a knife from his pocket (I knew he was crazy) and points it at them.

“Don’t you dare!” he shouts.

“I’m sorry,” Peterson’s partner begins. “I’m just following orders.”

He cocks his pistol. We take a step back, shocked.

“Please!” I shout. “Don’t-”

POW! A gunshot fills the air. The soldier crumbles to the ground with a bullet in his head. Peterson stares at us.

“Go!” he shouts. “What my fellow soldiers have done is inhumane. I cannot participate in it.”

He drops his gun to the floor.

“Thank you,” I say. “We owe you.”

“I heard they’re organizing a camp west of Middlebury. It should be safe there. I, however, cannot go there. Deserters aren’t treated very well.”

I nod.

“I understand.”

“One final thing: aim for the head. The infected are deadly and resistant. Only a blow to the head will truly kill them. Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

We walk out the front door and look outside. Many of the cars parked nearest to the school

- those who belong to teachers or staff - are on fire. Bodies are everywhere. Small groups of infected people wander around in the distance. My phone starts ringing. I look at the caller. It’s Tom.

“Thank god you’re okay!” he shouts. “Listen, Jen and I are in the parking lot! Come meet us there, we have my car and hers!”

“On my way!”

We reach the parking lot, located a few hundred metres from the school. Due to its distance, there aren’t any infected in it. I see Tom and Jen waiting by a car. She runs towards me and gives me a hug.

“Jackson! You’re okay. Thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks to him.” I point at Devon.

He glares at me and doesn’t answer. Jen looks at me in confusion.

“Just forget it,” I say. “Where are we going?”

Tom walks up to me and answers.

“Jen and I are going back to our neighbourhood to find our parents. Then we’re planning on going to that camp out west. You should come with us.”

“I have to go back home too,” I answer. “My dad needs me.”

“Take my car,” Jen says, pointing to her oh-so-familiar black Tesla. I always wanted to drive it. “We’ll meet up later.”

I look at the rest of my new group.

“Everyone else is welcome to join us. If not, good luck. I wish you all the best. Hopefully, we’ll see each other again in that military camp..”

Everyone nods in agreement. They head to their cars and leave. Everyone, except Devon.

“I don’t have a car,” he declares.

“Alright, you can come with me.” I look at Jen and Tom. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Jen throws me her keys.

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

The drive home is bizarre. We pass through kilometres of road, going through fields and passing by the occasional small wooden home. It's just so… empty. Empty of cars, that is, because there’s the infected walking along it occasionally. But the weirdest thing I see is a group of people dressed in all-black cloaks, walking by the side of the road. As I approach them, I realize who they are: nuns, who are led by a priest. After seeing that they have three kids with them, I stop the car and roll down the window.

“Are you alright? Do you need-”

“Tell me, son,” the priest begins. “Do you believe in God?”

Devon and I look at each other.

“Well, I-”

“Because we don’t.”

I stare in shock.

“Excuse me? I mean, you’re a priest.”

“Not anymore,” he declares as he takes off his robes, revealing a blood-stained military jacket. The nuns do the same.

“Today, a new age begins. God is dead. He can no longer be trusted to protect humankind. We are entering the age of the infected. The age of Zerkon-X. Those who oppose us,” he declares, drawing a pistol, “shall be terminated. Now tell me, son, which side do you stand on?”

I can’t think. Or speak. I’m just so shocked.

“I... “ I look at the kids. Two little boys and a girl. “Are you guys alright? Are these people holding you against your will?”

They stare at me silently.

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!” the priest shouts, bringing the gun closer. “WHAT SIDE DO YOU STAND ON?”

“I DON’T-”

Devon slams my leg onto the gas, making us breeze past the priest and the nuns. Gunshots go off from behind, hitting the left mirror and back window.

“Jesus Christ!” I shout as we speed through the streets. Jen’s gonna be pissed about this.

“Be more careful, next time,” Devon mutters.

“Be more careful? I was trying to help people! They had kids!”

“Exactly.”

I glare at him.

“Other people are dangerous or a waste of time. We should only look after ourselves,” he adds.

Needless to say, I did not stop the car after that.

We arrive at my house, still shocked by what we had just gone through. Sorry, I should rephrase: I’M still shocked by what happened. Devon seems exactly the same, lacking any emotion like this is what he did every day. I look around the neighbourhood and see that it’s exactly like it was this morning: empty and peaceful. It seems like the people here have listened to government orders or just don’t know what’s going on. I put the car in “park”.

“Stay here while I go inside. You don’t wanna speak to my stepmother any more than you have to. You feel safe here?”

He nods. I take the key out of the ignition (I still don’t trust him) and walk towards the front door.

I unlock the front door and I step inside the house. It’s an absolute mess. Bags are everywhere. The contents of the fridge have been emptied onto the kitchen counter. Cynthia must have packed for us, I tell myself.

“Hello?” I yell into the seemingly empty house. “Cynthia? We need to leave. The government has-”

She steps out into the kitchen. She stands still, staring at me. The counter sits between us. Her face is clenched and angry. I can’t see her hands, which are hidden by the counter. I speak up, creeped out.

“What’s wrong?”

“Leave.”

“What?”

“Leave! Get out of my house!”

“YOUR house?! This is mine and my fathers, you have no place here!”

She reveals what she’s been hiding behind the counter. My dad’s shotgun.

“GET OUT!”

My jaw drops.

“You cannot be serious!” I shout. “The world has gone mad! People are eating each other! I need to save my father!”

“I’ve heard. Which is why I’m doing this. Get out, or I’ll shoot.”

“My father will die if he stays here! Don’t you realize that?! He needs help! I need to get him to this camp out west!”

“I don’t give two shits about your damn father.”

“But-“

“No. I dated him for his money, and when he got sick, I seized the opportunity. I began adding more drugs to his medication, killing him slowly. He doesn’t have much longer.”

I look in shock. My surprise soon turns to anger.

“You murderer! You deserve to burn in he-”

The cocks the shotgun.

“Shut the fuck up! He’ll be dead soon. Now leave, before I kill you too.”

Just then, we hear a knock at the door. Devon.

Cynthia takes a few steps towards the door to get a better look. I take my opportunity. I jump right at her, tackling her to the ground. I hear a gunshot fly through the air.

I start punching her face over and over. She barely fights back. After a few swings, she’s completely collapsed to the floor, unable to do much. I grab the shotgun and stand up, pointing it at her. I look down at my sides. The bullet barely grazed me.

“It’s over,” I begin, breathing heavily. “My father is finally free from your grasp!”

She mutters a few incomprehensible things. I laugh at her.

“Not so strong now, huh?! You realized it’s harder to kill someone when they’re not drugged several times over?”

“What are you gonna do, shoot me?” she says in a raspy voice.

I stare at her. I realize I don’t really know what to do. If I leave her alive, she may recover and snap again. But if I kill her…

No! I’m not doing that! She’s a monster, sure, but I can’t just end someone’s life! That is not who I am! I’m better than her! I need to be good, for my father. He’ll be proud of me once he’s back, and this is all over. We’ll just go to that military camp, and everything will be okay. As for Cynthia, I still don’t know...

Devon continues knocking on the door.

“Jackson! Are you okay?! I heard a gunshot!”

“I’m fine! The bullet just grazed me! I just need to figure out what to do...”

Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming from down the hall. Dad.

“Father?” I shout, tears rushing down my face. “You’re okay… you’re free now…”

The footsteps continue, getting louder and faster. I continue staring at Cynthia with the gun pointed at her, in case she tries anything.

“Father? Talk to me. I need to know if you’re okay.”

“Euh….” I hear him moan.

“What?”

I turn my head to look at him, still pointing the gun at Cynthia. I see him walking slowly towards me, wearing a long bathrobe. Dark circles are under his eyes. His mouth is open, biting his teeth together, all while staring at me. The moaning continues.

“No… he- he can’t be...” Tears continue dripping down from my face.

I look down at Cynthia. I turn to look at Devon, who’s peeking through the window. I look back at my father, his mouth widening. He was now just a few feet away.

“Don’t do it, Jackson!” Devon shouts.

I close my eyes. All I see is black.

Click.

POW!

…

…

Click.

POW!