Alone

I wake up in a car...

The seats are hard. My rifle is pressed against my chest. I sigh. Eventually I muster the strength to open the door and check the traps. A rabbit is trapped in my cage. Dinner, I think. I hit it on the head with a rock. I then return back to the highway. Cars are pressed into thick traffic exiting Redbury. I grab my rucksack and get moving towards the town. I pass a lot of cars, but one catches my eye. It has a figure inside. It's dead, or worse. I move in for a closer look anyway, rifle in hand.

The man, or what was a man, Is pressed against the window. Gaping at me. He isn't dead, not really. I look through the window. I don't dare to open the window. Infection is too risky. I walk away.

When someone gets infected, they aren't themselves anymore. They no longer cower in front of a gun, or run away from danger. They are overwhelmed with one urge. To infect, to propagate, to spread, whatever you call it, it isn't good. They hunger for flesh of any kind. The virus is in the blood, so whatever water they drink is contaminated. This virus infected almost everybody in the United States of America, and I don't know about the rest of the world.

* * *

As I walk into the house the smell of death whooshes out at me. I counter the urge to vomit. A dead person is laying on the ground, ripped open. A kitchen knife is nearby. Whoever this was, they put up a fight. I make my way to the living room, then the dining room, then the kitchen. The refrigerator is full of rotting food. The cupboards are almost empty except for some creamed corn and sardines.

I go upstairs. The bathroom has some antibiotics, always useful; some clean towels, good for cleaning; and a bar of soap. A bedroom is to the right of the bathroom, it contains a suitcase with essentials: clothes, a lighter, a laptop, a lot of canned food, and a lot of money. The suitcase is haphazardly thrown together, indicating that whoever made it was leaving in a hurry. I make my way to the room to the left of the bathroom. It has a bow-tie over the doorknob, and a card. The card reads:

Jean,

Don't open until Christmas...!

-Bob

I push open the room. I slam the door. I saw a crib and a mobile, and, I don't want to think about what else.

Eventually I muster the courage to walk in. A man, possibly 'Bob', lies with a gun in his hand. He took the only easy way out. He also has a radio...

* * *

After fiddling with the radio for a few minutes I start to cook a can of beans. I then count my resources: 12 Rifle bullets, a rifle, 6 revolver bullets, a diplomat revolver, 12 cans of food, 5 bottles of water, a radio, a lighter, a backpack, a gas mask, and two Molotov Cocktails. I eat my beans, and go to sleep.

The next morning I scavenge a few cars. I also manage to find a tank. It has been looted before, but whoever did it didn't take everything. I find a grenade, a set of military riot gear, and a rifle flash-light. In the security of the tank I flip through frequencies on the radio, and I hear, could it be, a faint voice...?

I can't really understand what the voice says. I walk down the highway and try again. The signal is definitely stronger. I try to make out the words. “This is m......adio, brodcas......ll fr....quencies. If anyb.......ere, anyo......” I can barely understand, but I know what I have to do. I have to find a broadcasting antennae...

* * *

2 DAYS LATER...

Muppetfield is a nice town, aside from all the dead bodies. A roadside flower shop has gone wild. There are flowers EVERYWHERE. But dead bodies litter the streets, and that overrides the smell of lilacs. The Muppetfield church has makeshift watchtowers and wood spike and barbed wire barricades. Someone was holed up here.

Inside the church I see a figure, no, two, no, three. It takes me a moment to realize what is about to happen.

The events that follow are hard to recollect. One of the figures turns towards me. Then the others start to run at me. I shoot. One goes down. Did it die? I don't think so. The first one lunges at me. My rifle goes up. I shoot it a few times before it is dead. I try to reload my rifle but it jams. I run as fast as I can. Once I am outside I manage to throw a Molotov and light one on fire. There is a gas station to my left. Before I entirely think it through, I am opening the gas valves. Then I take cover behind a nearby brick building. The creatures, Infected some called them, get near the gas station. I hear silence, and then a deafening roar. A wave of heat washes over me as the entire gas station explodes. Others will hear, I have to get out of here...

* * *

The creatures are swarming all over the area of the explosion. Many are trying to stay away, but some are walking or falling into the fire. I am watching from the roof of a house on a hill. It is a beautiful view. The sun is setting so I will need candles, but light attracts them. After looking thoroughly through the house I find many heavy rugs, enough to cover all the windows of nearly half the house. I light a few candles. The house has a gas stove, so I manage to light it. I cook a box of macaroni and cheese. I eat ravenously, I haven't eaten since this morning. And with all the running and shooting and blowing things up, I am extremely hungry. After I eat I read a book. Some cheesy feel-good book about a dog lost in the woods, but I need to take my mind off things. I later listen to the radio hoping for the message I heard 2 days ago. It is still there. Stronger signal, but scrambled. The voice says:

“...plosion in downt... ...uppetfiel.... ...could it... ...be the... ….ilitary?”

I definitely made out one word...

… Muppetfield.