Red Eye

Part Fourteen

Shit... Shit... Shit.... I'm spiraling.... 

I think I'm starting to lose it. You can only keep the madness away for so long before it creeps its way inside, settles itself within you. 

Fuck... only a couple months in and I'm already half-way gone.

That encounter at the window, that figure standing so still, the lurker... part of me is now wondering if it was all in my head, simply an illusion brought on by dehydration and poor sleep. What if I'm the only one left... not only here... but in the entire world? What if everything, even the ZASurvivors account, has been nothing more than a fever-dream? Nothing more than a sad attempt to pretend that I'm not utterly alone and entirely screwed?! 

None of that.... We are NOT doing that!!! 

Or worse... what if I didn't survive the attack? What if I'm dead, lying on the floor with my neck broken or sprawled out with my head caved in and this is me trapped in some sort of limbo... a hell that isn't fire and brimstone but instead, cold and empty? 

FUUUUUUUUUUUCK.... No.... No.... NO!

Sorry... Sorry.... 

The pessimist in me is having a field day right now and I hate it! One of the downfalls of being alone is how easily you can become your worst enemy and having no one to pull you away from the edge. The voices in my head are pulling me in all different directions and none of them know how to read a map.

Breathe.... remember to breathe... Take some air in, slowly push it out... 

Maybe that's another part of this whole Red-Eye thing. All the anxiety people try to reign in, try to get a grip on. The infected are simply just lashing out at the world, trying to seize hold of something, trying to cling to a fleeting sense of normalcy. This isn't an act of violence, it's an act of desperation. The tormented just want others to feel their pain, to know what it's like to have to pretend everything is ok. They want people to know this is something you can't simply snap out of. 

Me again, trying to find a philosophical reason behind this giant mess. 

At this point, do we even need a reason anymore? Do we need to point a finger at some cause? Rarely is such an apocalyptic event ever explained.... And we just go along for the ride in the name of the unknown. So many things in life can't be explained by anything scientific or rational. 

But why us? Why now? Why out of everything- plague, invasion, the constant threat of nuclear war- did this have to be the way the world comes to an end? And the way in which it came, somewhat slowly without any real cause for alarm in the beginning before turning into a full-fledged horror.... There was no rhyme or reason to it...  You're either the predator or the prey and it's just a matter of time before you see which one you become. How many have simply become a casualty by their own hand? A sad thought, I know, but can't help but wonder... 

Shit... focus... FOCUS...

I close my eyes and try to mentally push everything away, all these dark and intrusive thoughts, and instead focus on my breathing. If it's not the monster that brings the hero down, it's the person's own mind that takes them out. 

I need to concentrate.

I need to breathe.

I need to...

I need...

My phone. 

It's buzzing. The vibration causing it to move, shaking on the floor in some crazed, spastic dance. This is the first time it's made any noise. I've kept it charged this entire time, kept it on just in case. In all this time, nothing. Not even a status update or news ping. It's been silent until now.

It's still buzzing. This isn't some robocall or wrong number. Whoever this is, they're trying to get a hold of me, talk to me right now. It's urgent, persistent. The buzz drones on, the phone continuing to glide across the floor, trying to escape the charging cord tethering it to the wall. 

I walk over to it, unsure if my mind is continuing to play tricks on me. Who would be calling, and why now, after all this time? Why me of all people? 

As I reach for the phone, severing it from the outlet, my knees immediately buckle and I feel myself tumble to the ground at the recognition of the Caller ID. 

 It's Mom.