It was between November and December of last year when the chaos took full hold of reality. There had been various warnings prior to the intense, dramatic end. As far as anyone knew in this large chunk of the Earth, the end of days came and finally harvested civilization. Most of mankind fell, and in truth they were their own harbingers of destruction. All this could have, and should've been, prevented with a simple vaccine.
Men of power would dismiss it, and men of science were not allowed the funds. Thus the vaccine never came.
It was nearly a full year afterwards. A full year after the infection rocked and shocked the world, the country. The signs were all subtle at first. A man eating another man's face, and at first it was thrown around as man-turned-zombie savagely eating his first victim. Reports that followed after claimed, after checking the supposed zombie, that he was a man who had merely gone crazy after ingesting drugs.
It must've been roughly eight or nine months after that incident, the climax of infection violently ruined families, buildings, towns, cities--eventually countries. It escalated and grew, only getting worse when civilization began to manically scratch at the swollen spider bite that was already incurable at this point, and the irritation was only making it worse.
Worse it became, destroying even the most isolated of towns. Eventually quarantine was made. Countries across the seas closed their boarders to avoid the pandemic in hopes of saving themselves. Maybe they did, but as far as anyone knew in this cut-off country, no survivors knew of the foreigner's fates.
The infection has taken all of mankind, or so it is believed by the various survivors scattered everywhere in what was once known as the United States. Empty living rooms, loveless bedrooms and vacant yards, with cluttered streets and roads. That's all that was left. It was doubly hard to find food that wasn't expired than it was hunting down game.
The land became wild within a full year, as did those who lost grip of sanity and reality. It's hard to decipher if there's anyone around who's sane anymore. However, there is Anne. As far as she knows, she's the only one alive and balanced, apart from the Crazies and the stereotypical zombie, which are very active and energetic.
Anne's only a girl with a dog, both equally physically healthy. Before the pandemic, it was only her, alone in a dorm room far from home. The trips back home were long and confusing with several turns on the road. There are a lot of things that she firmly believes are mentally wrong with her, but being a woman was always challenging in society. Prior to the viral infection, she was made of complete self-doubt in everything. To this day, she still is. A sick cynic, who fears unknown variables in what normal people would encounter in the normal world.
However, decades of self doubt, no matter how many, will never snuff out the instinct of survival. Only the fittest survive, which was always and will always be true.
When it finally caught up to the big city she dwelled within, there were no warnings. No lights were flashing, no sirens blaring. Just mayhem screaming throughout the city. It hurt everyone. Only the lucky ones died. The physically able victims joined them after decomposing for a while. Few got out, and it was all by chance if you made it out alive.
Running was smarter than driving, and her feet didn't fail her. They carried her out of the flames of the dying city. All she had were the clothes on her back and a pack of essentials she gathered in haste, which truly wasn't much. How can you not forget a few things when you're packing up in panic?
And so she ran. Anne would run, with no sense of direction and sometimes with no reason to. It took sometime to decide where to go. It took a lot of weeping and sobbing, screaming and kicking and rage. So the idea to go back home, to where her parents would be, came to mind.
With the possibility of her parents already dead, she pressed on either way. If possible, she might reunite with them. Then again, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out what happened. If she could, she'd get a hold of them by phone. It's not simple to call anyone by cell phone anymore. When the country crashed, it took nearly everything with it, including the cell phone towers.
Anne walked through the cold winds that burned her skin every so often during the night. She broke down and broke in to stores and homes that were already ransacked by others before her. Taking what was left over, she salvaged as much ammunition as she could at gun stores, taking only pistols for the sake of staying light. The only heavy thing she carried was a thick wooden bat. The only trouble was that she didn't know if her fleeting strength would stay with her in her time of need. She already had dangerous encounters. In every single encounter, her arms trembled with terror, and even the lightest improvised weapons were heavy in her small hands.
It was hard sleeping at night in the beginning. Your mind stays in shock, stays alert. It only becomes more wary the darker it gets. Scavengers have to travel light, and find the most secure places for sleep. Trees are more promising than houses, but she can't honestly sleep in the wilderness. Too much noise and things that go bump in the night. Being in the presence of the walking dead was terrifying. Anne didn't think she'd ever get over seeing them, even from afar.
So she settled for a shed made of some metal material. She kept an eye out for those. Every town had one, and during her travels she would stop once a week and settle down for a few days in a safe spot before going on another long journey.
Along the way, she encountered a few strays. Most wildlife wasn't infected at this point early in the collapse, and thank God because she didn't think she could fight off a pack of rabid dogs, all sickly and vicious looking…
Days went by and gradually became forgotten. Eventually she forgot about dates, and only recognised seasons. Spring came, summer followed. You could really feel the heat then, and the rotting bodies of her enemies served as a warning to all.
Anxiety was always present, but as she went days surviving on her own, her mind began to crumble. Anne was alone. Anne was alive and alone, and the more she realized it the more it pained her. Sleeping was the only thing that helped, but when she woke up it would all start to fall apart again. The world may as well be dead.
There would be no more weddings. Though it might be terribly cheesy, everyone thinks about marriage, or at least weddings. Young girls all thought about it at one point or another. What their "special day" would be like, what their dress would be. Where, what time of day, and the man they'd imagine, whose features would be made from some mixture of handsome celebrities.
In all honesty Anne never gave it thought. Well, never gave it too much thought. People always change their mind about one thing or another. Although she never decided on the critical details, or rather any details, she did want to get married. However she wouldn't rush, because she would only want to do it once. Never again. The idea was that special to her.
It came to her that she'd never get married. It was a terrible realization. This wasn't a movie. There would be no great, handsome figure of masculinity. There is no brave, sane man out there who could provide safety. There is no safety anymore, and everyone is filled with insanity, if not cowardice.
It hurt to be without companionship… Anyone would slowly go crazy without socialization. A lone wolf will eventually die on it's own. Packs had social structures and order. Provided a sense of family. Even the omega was looked after, despite being at the bottom of the social ladder.
The days bled together and everything was a daze, sprinkled with occasional panic when confronted with conflict… She thought she was alone for the most part. Her follower became apparent after a while. Looking back, she'd see a ratty ball of fur, black and white. It was someone's pet once. Anne felt sorry for the poor dog. Most of them were lucky, dying earlier during the beginning and staying dead most of the time. Having a dog now would be too much responsibility.
One day Anne was looking through a store for food that wasn't expired. Expiration dates were set pretty far, but she didn't know what month it was anymore. Her diet was now snack foods, or whatever wasn't moldy or smelly.
There it was again, at the end of the aisle. It's body posture was low to the ground, like always. She had to avoid looking at it. She didn't want to encourage it to get closer… Anne was already rationing the food. Even so, she could manage carrying a little more. Her pack wasn't as heavy as it could be, and there was room for extra.
It seemed like a bad idea, but eventually she slowly sat down and opened a bag of jerky chunks, the kind that wasn't legitimate beef jerky and came in resealable packages. The dog pulled on her heart strings when it came for the offered snack. The way it moved, it acted as though it has never seen an act of kindness in it's entire life. Then her stone expression broke at the sound of small whines and whimpers. It stayed submissive and licked her palm afterwards, getting closer and nuzzling, as it pleading for her to pet and scratch the tuffs of fur, which there was a lot of.
Reluctantly she complied, and looked for a tag on it's collar for a name. It didn't have a tag, but that was okay.
A heavy sigh heaved from her chest as the dog rolled on it's side, tail wagging in a skittish fashion as Anne scratched the exposed belly. You wouldn't be able to tell how thin the dog actually was with the thick coat, but feeling it now as apparent. Anne wasn't able to tell for certain if it was a girl or a boy, but it didn't have any obvious male genitalia between it's hind legs.
"I'm going to guess you're a girl." She would say as she pulled out another chunk of fake jerky. Her heart was crippled by the sweet look that was given in return. She didn't think dogs had eye brows, but she could almost tell what expression it had…
Maybe if she started listing off names, she'd eventually say the right one and the dog would answer to it, but it seemed so much simpler to just rename her and hope she picks up on it.
Anne stood up after going through a whole back of meat, and immediately the dog stood on all fours, tail wagging. She snapped her fingers and commanded the dog to sit. Attention was given and her command was obeyed. It stopped panting and stared up at her, waiting quietly for something else. Anne leaned over and removed the collar, thinking it'd be nothing but a pain later on.
"Good girl, Vega." She always liked that name. Maybe it wasn't feminine, but it was short and easy to say, easy for a dog to understand. Anne took as many bags of jerky chunks as she could and patted the back of her leg, a quiet gesture for her new friend, who followed closely.
Anne wasn't alone anymore, and it was nice. Even if Vega couldn't converse, at least she could give companionship. There are worse things than death, or so Anne would like to believe...
No comments:
Post a Comment