The Infected

Just down the hill emerged the first store, a grocery store, its windows boarded up with multiple layers of wood. The town might have housed no more than a hundred people once. The sun had just begun to rise to the left of where I was standing, and in the amber sunlight, the houses seemed almost cheery. As I stared eagerly at the store, not believing my luck, the first rays showed the front door shattered and left hanging slightly lopsided.

There was no movement in any of the streets or houses; the morning hours would have kept any would-be residents asleep for at least another hour. I adjusted the large backpack to lay more comfortably across my back; the thing had been my only companion for the last five months, the only thing that had accompanied me through ‘The disease.'

Everyone called it ‘The disease’ after the mere month in which entire cities were overrun. It had been like any other night, as the 9 pm news had been droning on about the weather next week as I sipped my cold coffee. I had been late from work, arriving just a few minutes before. I was uninterested in the weather and wished it had become engaging. Suddenly, the forecast was interrupted by an image that read 'Breaking News.'

“Now we have sudden breaking news. Our reporter, Jack Kenelm, is reporting from Zimbabwe. So, what is going on there?” asked the host. “Well, we seem to have a mysterious virus that seems to be taking over. Here is a video filmed by an unknown person in the pandemic”. Then a very shaky and blurred video was shown, with the reporter slowly backing away from the scene before him. The disturbing video showed people attacking others in the street, biting, and tearing with their hands, fingers, and teeth, taking chunks of meat from the people they had minutes before called family. I had ignored it that night, thinking it was some movie they were making. How wrong I was. They told us that ‘The disease’ had originated from a bat to a dog, and that dog had bitten his owner, thus beginning the end. It had been five months since then, and I hardly remembered those easy times.

I had no idea what I looked like, especially since it started. The last time I looked in the mirror, I saw a 32-year-old, muscular man with light purple eyes and blonde hair. I was 6’5. I used to be brave, fearless, and strong. At least, I hope I was. That was the day it started. The last time I looked in the mirror. I wore a three-piece suit that day for a party at my office (I worked as an editor). Now I was wearing a ragged, dirty green shirt with brown sweatpants. I had put on my cricket gloves, helmet, pads, and equipment.

I began dawdling down the slight incline towards the store, hoping to salvage a few supplies before the sun was completely up. The backpack thumped comfortingly along my back, which had already begun to sweat with fear; going into towns, no matter how small, was always risky.

The air was dense and quiet except for the slight crunch of grass beneath my boots and the occasional rustle of leaves. I had to decide whether the grocery store would be my only stop or if I would risk wandering further into town to find necessities.

I used my crossbar to pry open the lock. It sprung open. I gazed inside. Empty. I walked around carefully, trying to avoid stepping on the broken glass on the floor. I scanned the shelf. A plastic water bottle. It was worth coming here just for this.

In my haste to get the bottle, I stepped on a piece of glass. I was listening carefully. My ears tried to determine every little sound. No one. I breathed again. I grabbed the bottle and took a large drink. Ah, refreshing. I saved some.

I left the store, looking for something to eat. Something to eat would be nice. The town was small. I could see an intersection further ahead. I stopped. The road in front of me turned left sharply. At the corner, I could make out a slide. Probably a park. But something else caught my attention. On the road, on the walls, on the slide. Blood. And what made me shiver was that it did not look old. I ran back up the incline to the top of the hill and stopped. Coming right towards me were around 80 zombies. Not walking, running. My heart skipped a beat. I ran the opposite way.

''If they were running at around 75% of my speed, it should take them around 1 minute to catch up,'' I yelled in panic. I crossed the first house, trying to find an exit, and saw a path up ahead. I took it. As I ran, I saw a railing up ahead.

"Damn it!" I yelled. I thought it was a dead end. But then I saw an escalator on my right. It wasn't working as I expected, but it was an easy way to get down. I parkoured down.

As I was running, I noticed something. I couldn’t hear the zombies anymore. They had disappeared.