Death was once something I feared, an illusion that brought darkness with it, but now I plead for its mercy in this time that survivors have come to call, The New Order.
•••
It was only a cough to began with, something so simple, it had happened a t...
The high pitched scream that had bounced off the spray painted, alleyways walls, slowly morphs into a thick gurgling plead between spattered breaths.
My steps shuffle against the pavement littered with dust as their twitching limbs gripped within the pale hands of the creature, its teeth ripping a chuck of bright red flesh from the victim below it. Her head tilts back, her eyes vast as they lock onto mine, a horror to be witnessed within the grasp of them, as a stream of her own thick, crimson blood runs down her cheek and into the dark locks of her fiery hair, blending together.
A burning takes hold of my own body, consuming me as I stand there, eyes unmoving from the scene unfolding before, as the girl with the pleading eyes flickers between her and the image of Eliana dying right before me.
As though a prediction. A warning.
The gun gripped beneath the whites of my knuckles is heavy, a strain to lift up and point at the two figures before me. I don't do what the movies play out, both my eyes are wide as they gaze down the end of the short barrel of the hand gun, lining up the creature as it dives downward to the girl's shoulder, the sickening rip of flesh being torn from bone consume my thoughts as I let my finger pull against the cold trigger.
My body is violently jolted backward, a sharp, stinging pain shooting up through the nerves of my back as the creatures head shoots upward from where it was once feasting, its dark eyes now connecting with mine, a new prey.
Within a brief moment it closes the space between us, its flailing limbs reaching out for me but before its cold, blooded hands can touch the warmth of my skin, it falls to the ground with a heavy thud, the side of its skull smacking against the cement, unmoving as it simply lays before my feet, black ooze pouring from its upper back.
One eye can be seen from where it lays. The clouds part as bright, piercing blue stares bleakly ahead, now unseeing of what the world holds around them.
"Were you bitten?" Through the fog of my own thoughts, I hear a gruff tone.
"Civillian, I asked you a question, now answer." It's closer this time, deeper.
Slowly, my head rises as a pair of black, combat boots come into view as they stand over the girl lying on the floor in a fountain of her own blood, now unbreathing. My eyes trail upwards over the black cargo pants, the thick puffy vests that seem as though they would weigh a ton. It shields their chests and low stomachs as a thick jacket is worn beneath it.
Something on their uniform catches my attention, a small dark red symbol on the upper corner of their vests, two V's, side by side, slightly overlapping eachother, making the shape of a W.
I've never seen anything like it before.
"I said answer," his voice is blunt, like cement being ground against cement.
The steps thud against the ground, his boots heavy with each stomp as he comes closer, the long barrel of his gun being lifted with a singular hand up toward me.
"Now answer me."
I can't see his eyes, or even his face, only my stagnant features as it stares back at me through the reflection of his raven hamlet.
"No...I-I wasn't bitten," my voice comes out munted.
With a gloved hand, he reaches out and grabs the side of my waist, twisting my limbs around, as though searching for the lie that was held within my words. His fingers raffle over the items of clothing clinging to my body, his gun still pointed at me. At some moments it jabs into the sides of me, as though unaware of what lies in his hand. Of the destruction he holds.
He swings me back around, now facing him once again as both of his hands now grip the weapon that is still pointed in my direction.
"Is anyone accompanying you out here?" His voice is muffled through the helmet.
I shake my head.
"Have you been sick?"
Again, I shake my head.
"Has anyone you known been sick?"
I hesitate, but after a brief moment I shake my head.
I'm not sure why I didn't reply with yes, that my nana had been sick, violently for a few weeks now. That she's at the hospital as we speak, but something in my gut is churning at the question.
I don't know what happens behind the mask he wears, but for a moment he just stands there. And I'm left in the unknown as the seconds slip by, only our breaths being heard.
After what feels like an entirety, he reaches for his back pocket, pulling a thin white object that is the shape of a short ruler. He brings it up to my face, the bright red dot flashing its light over my features, a moment passes, but it simply lets out a small noise.
Thrusting the small tool into his back pocket, he twists around abruptly, his figure growing smaller the further he gets. His heavy boots lift over the lying women, specks of dust falling over her as he shifts the gun toward her. The sudden bang fills her chest with the pircing bullet that was shot from his chamber, her lifless figure glitching with the impact.
In my back pocket, my phone vibrates, I pull it from the safety of the jeans and flick it on. Two messages pop up.
One with the two v symbols, reading;
Unknown - Not infected.
And another from Nana.
Nan-nan - I'm safe.
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