Starting Again

1. Before

     It was calm before everything went to hell. No one knew what was going on, only that it was "being handled".
T

he government said it'd be fine and that we shouldn't worry.

     Some lab in the Midwest was testing experimental vaccines. They were attempting to create a vaccine for Zika, by radiating the already infected cells. The hope was to make it as any other vaccine, a weakened or ideal version of the original.

     But that's not what happened at all. The radiation mutated the cells into some new, super disease. They kept it contained until it mutated further and evolved into the perfect bioweapon that no one was safe from. No one.

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     The panic didn't really start until the president ordered a nationwide quarantine. All airports, train stations, and harbors were closed infinitively. My mother, father, brother, and I were stuck at our home in Illinois. Our large farm looming above the town on a hill, overlooking hill after hill and field after field. From the front yard I could see the downtown below, the sky blue water tower, the small gray post office, the moderate string of schools.

    Our town was very secluded, we rarely got visitors, so the disease took a while to get to us. It was spread like the normal movie zombie infection, but it was anything but normal. Movie zombies are the walking dead, but our zombies were still alive and suffering.

    When you are first infected you start the dangerous downwards spiral into insanity. It would consume a fully grown human brain within a few days, a week tops. Then your blood would start to thicken like cold chocolate syrup, thin enough to keep pumping but slow enough for the person to have hindered movement. After that was finished it moved back into the brain, taking the old commands and thoughts and spewing them through every orifice. That was plan A in spreading the disease. Then, when that was all gone, it released a few general commands, like eat or kill, which meant any living thing in sight was already dead.

    Animals were somehow excluded from the disease, though not its cruel aftereffects. The infected, if they carried the right gene, would further evolve into what I like to call the special cases.

    There were the common Shiners, who started lightly glowing as they neared a target and exploded with the force if a grenade when they were close enough. Then there were the not-so-common Soldiers, who somehow adapted around the syrup-blood could run better than most normal people, and could take a beating before finally falling. And finally, there were the rare human-like ones, the Zephyrs. They were the most dangerous, because they, when close to their target, would superheat until their blood boiled, then projectile vomited it all at you. They were also the ones that still looked normal, they would even talk to you for a minute.

    The most common would roam the country, without a purpose than to kill everything they see, but the specials had other plans. They formed hoards, usually grouping in large dark areas like subways and closed football domes, so it was best to avoid big cities. It wasn't easy in the country either, they could rely on their smell and know where you are long before they ever see you, so in short, no one was safe.

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    As I sat next to my mother at the table my little brother, Marceous, rounded the corner yelling ,"There's people outside, Mommy, Daddy!". I figured it was a Jehovah's witness or a girlscout, so I stood up and peeked through the window. What I saw through that window wasn't a Jehovah's witness or girlscout though, it was our local priest, father McCloud.

     As a well-known member of the community, he was welcomed into most if not all houses. But he didn't look right. His eyes were dialated and red, and I could see most of his dark veins under his skin. This isn't right, I thought to myself. As I backed away, heart pounding, I heard my mother ask who was at the door. "Mom, its Father McCloud, but he doesn't look like himself."

     "What do you mean, ladybug?" Gosh I hated that nickname. "Mom, go to the basement, grab Marceous, I'll go get Dad." She didn't even question me, she knew I wouldn't have said something that strange if I hadn't meant it.

     I was rounding the corner into my dads office when I heard glass shattering. "What the fuck was that?", we said simultaneously. I looked at my father, waiting to get scolded for cursing, but instead he looked back at me with the same large bright green eyes and said, "Maven, get your mom and brother into the basement, I'll be right behind you."

     I ran down there, spotting my mother by her bright ginger locks, and sat next to her. "Sissy, where's daddy?", Marceous asked me with deep blue eyes, just like mom's. "He'll be right down Marky". Sitting still next to my mother and brother, we waited and waited, until we heard thumps from upstairs.

     "I'll be right back, lock the door behind me and don't move.", my mother whispered to me as she got up to leave. All I could do was nod my head, knowing that she wanted us to keep as quiet as possible.