Red Eye

Part Four

All of that happened just a few weeks ago. 

Now... cut to me stumbling on what looks like a community page entitled ZASurvivors.

ZA? Fuck, really? Has the world collectively decided this is a "zombie apocalypse"? 

Based on a quick once-over, it's obvious someone's created this page as a means to make contact with whoever might still be out there. There are users from across the globe who have found shelter at their local convenience stores, abandoned warehouses, even basements. There are people from California, Texas, New York and even outside of the states like China, Germany and the UK. There are dozens of pictures of family members and friends, people they're desperately hoping to find or have tragically lost. Some have posted links to social media accounts sharing attack videos and tutorials for creating make-shift weapons. There's even a whole comment thread full of theories about what's caused all of this to happen.

Getting lost down that rabbit hole, many users agree this is all part of a secret government experiment to create "super-soldiers" that went horribly wrong. Some think it might be drug-related, posting links to articles about the "bath-salt attacks" in Florida. A scattered few believe it's connected to the food industry, spreading rumors of heightened steroid use in certain meat products. So-called "medical experts" are trying to determine if this is a new virus, comparing images of some of the infected's symptoms to known diseases. Attempts to find and blame a Patient Zero has fueled racist rants from conservative groups. All the religious fanatics simply blame "the end times" and quote various Bible verses from Revelations. 

Removing my glasses and massaging my eyes, seeking momentary relief from the harsh glare of the screen, I try to sort my thoughts. 

What the hell is going on out there? How are we supposed to defend ourselves? How long do we have to ride this out? Can we cure this? Do we stand a chance?

Seeing those images of everyone's loved ones, my thoughts drift to my own family. To be honest, I had almost forgotten about them. We used to be very close, almost inseparable. Until recently. I got older, made changes to my life that they didn't approve of. We fought, shouted horrible things at each other, muffled our cries behind closed doors. We drifted apart. Though I still have their number in my phone, I can't remember the last time I called. I can't remember the last letter I received from them, even the last Christmas card they sent. I wonder if they're still out there, if they're trying to survive all this. Are they dead? And if they are, do I miss them? 

I fear in the madness of everything that has happened, in the attempt to find a way to deal with all of this terror and tragedy, that I've numbed myself too much. I shut myself off, tuned everything out that would distract me from simply moving forward, continuing onward. I did it when I had to remove those bodies, when I cleaned their blood off the floor, when I laid them out on the street and covered them in the tarp. I had treated it like it had been part of my regular job -- trash that needed to be taken out, product that needed to be put away. There was something that needed to be done and I dealt with it. Nothing more. In that moment,  I had become less-than human, unemotional, no thoughts or feelings. 

Was this how it started? Had all of the infected started off this way? Had they become so detached from the rest of the world, from everyone around them that they had fallen prey to the despair, to the loneliness? Had everything they had ever bottled up inside turned into this bottomless pit of anger and resentment? Had all the hatred boiled over and suddenly begin to leak out of them? Those rage-filled red eyes!

Overcome by my own emotions, I couldn't help myself from beginning to feel...  dare I say.. sympathetic... toward the infected. 

I've always been different. I knew I didn't fit in quite as well compared to everyone else. Then I became a target- something to be pulled out, beaten, and tossed aside until next time. I had gotten used to many things- the abuse, the name-calling, the confused stares. I had gotten used to the uncertainty from others on how to deal with me, how to interact with someone like me. I scared them. I threatened them. I was someone, something to be avoided at all costs, to be shunned, to be cast out. 

The question popped into my mind... An easy one to answer but still terrifying to ask. 

Is it that easy to become a monster?