The Hyper Hour Stage

The first sign of the virus is melancholy.

Sometimes I wonder whether it's the human brain opposing death or the human soul struggling to leave the fragile body when they die. Usually when I am about to kill them, my remaining sense of humanity makes me hesitate in doing the act and an opening glimpse of these people's lives flash on to me as their dead eyes stare deeply into mine. Too deeply in fact, I could almost feel their touch, and their warmth. It all reminds me of one thing - Momma.

I pressed a wet and musty towel along my cheeks. Feeling the fragile press against the fragiler. I looked up from the sink to the mirror and wiped it off with my bare hands and saw what I have not seen in days. My face. Sunken as if I am sucking my cheeks in when I actually am not. Pale and devoid of life just like the others. I am reminded of my first year in high school and how I used to be the "Fat" one. I wished that I was much simpler and thinner like everyone else then. But God Forbid who would have thought that I will just look as horrid as I did then.

But seeing my long straight hair that is just barely kept, my eyebrows that occupy most of the space between themselves and my deep brown eyes that are almost pitch none. It reminds me of one thing - Momma.

The sun is about to go down, I could tell as the sun is shining in the only open window of the house. The very end of the hallway at the west and giving light to the door leading to Momma's locked bedroom. There is only one key for her room. One I had kept away in my bedside drawer and long forgotten. Perhaps it had only been a week but my incompetent sense of time plus the all that is happening - it does not matter, long forgotten still.

I head up to the kitchen, left of the hallway at the end of Momma's. My footsteps sound around the house in polite echoes. I could feel the surround of the lifeless agony of the house begging for life it used to contain and protect.

But no life is left here apart from me, Momma and a piece of meat laying at the kitchen table. A sight of a fresh hunt, too lively for my liking that it might move any second now as I approach closer to the side of the table.

I took the axe that was on the floor. One I had left there yesterday right after the hunt. Momma will not be pleased to see this mess. But these days she has been messier than I ever was.

I swing the axe and cut the meat right down the middle by muscle memory. I usually cut equal parts, one for me and one for Momma. I have never learned how to butcher properly since my dad died before I could even hold a knife myself; I mean it is not like he would teach a girl like me to butcher anyway. Plus hearing stories from Momma - I am very glad he is dead. Nonetheless Momma has taught me three things when it comes to dealing with fresh meat.

1. Make sure it's clean. -No bite marks, no blisters and the blood should be smooth.

2. Wash the meat. - Make sure there is no blood left. Clean as white and dead as God.

3. Cook it till it's tough. - The meat should not be soft and the forks should barely just pierce in it.

The cuts don't matter. As long as there's meat in it, there's food to fill the stomach. Momma will say this all the time while doing food chores.

After washing the life off of the meat with cold rain water that I fetched a few days ago, I turned the stove on to check if it is still working. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. I could not hear a gas hissing out of it. A few more tries and I held my closer to the stove. Close enough for me to smell if there is still any left from the gas tank I had claimed from our old neighbour’s house months ago. I could barely smell any, only the scent of my warm dirty mouth as I breath.

The second is extreme mania.

It doesn't matter. I can live by and since I have not eaten for days, my hunger is not painful anymore. Momma said that even humans go crazy when they are hungry. Perhaps I am an exception. After all, I am special just like Momma said.

But Momma on the other hand. She must be very hungry now. She has not eaten for weeks.

Hmm I sometimes wonder that perhaps being like the others, or being like Momma would really make things much easier. I would not need to sleep, and I would not need to cook my meat. I would not even need to look at their eyes begging for life when I hunt. I’d just eat them, eat them alive, straight in the gut and I would not need to think.

Perhaps I should really just turn into one!

I rushed into my room. Echoes of my footsteps echo the house again, but this time with life. Life that it has been deprived off for years. I ran straight after the closet and opened my drawer with delight . I picked up the locket, the locket that was long forgotten but shall be forever remembered. A heart shaped locket that can only be opened by opening Momma's door. Momma said she designed it like this so I can be reminded of her every time. Seeing what Momma used to look like all before she turned. But don't worry Momma. I’ll soon be with you. I would not need to see how you look now, I am not afraid anymore. We can finally be the same again just like everyone else used to say!

I love you.. Momma.

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Usually those who are infected die from various causes resulting from their actions during these stages. This is what we call the Hyper Hour Stage or the HHS because they only last an hour before the patients initiate into a coma. This is a very crucial stage and patients should be under close supervision with the highest security levels possible. We use to call this process containment but since we found out that the Infected can in fact think? Well, A better word for the process is still under consideration.

Once the patient is under a comatose, please call our Infected Emergency Service using the following phone number of 0118-999-88199-9119-725-3. We will take care of the rest.

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Article by Roby Henkiens - A previous middle grade writer and author turned into a journalist, old tech engineer, back market surgeon and official medical assistant under IES. Please do not judge. Someones got to do it. There's few of us left in here after all! Anyway slide to my dms so we can populate or not, I swing both ways, you got to this time around ;).