Vial #127

Chapter 1: The World of Yesterday

I enter the school, the cloudy lighting from outside creeps inside casting an eerie shadow down the hallway. It's been a week since I've seen another human being. All I've witnessed are the undead, stumbling soullessly down the streets.

A whirring sound sneaks in through open windows, crashed open by people trying to escape from the danger. Hospitals and schools have been converted into safe houses after neighborhoods became infected. Only they've run out of food and later been over run. No one is left. I once attended this school. It used to be artsy and homey. Now the walls have splatters of blood and smell of corpses.

I creep down the empty hallway, down towards the cafeteria. I push open the door. It cracks as it swings back. Inside, there are burnt bodies and skeletons scattered about. I wretch at the un-human stench. I sidestep to the back where food used to be served. As I step into the kitchen, there is a loud clatter, then strangled gurgles. I gasp. It wandered towards me. I draw out my knife. I know what I have to do, though I've never actually done it.

I remember my father telling me, 'Always in the brain, always.' I feel my heart fill with emotion.

I was separated from him, my Dad and brother both, a week ago in an attack. My Mother was bit and my Dad shot her in the head before she was turned. Ever since I've been hungry, dehydrated and on my own.

I raise my arm and swing it down. An intense crunch pierces the skull, then slides dully further into the brain tissue. Blood squirts out, splattering my knotted hair. With the bottom of my jacket, I wipe off the crimson liquid. Stepping over the corpse, I locate the cabinets that store the food. I haul out my duffel bag and start loading in canned goods, granola bars and anything else left that will last long enough.

Inside another storage container, I find two crates of bottled water; each one with 15 bottles. With the supplies that I have now, I'll last for two weeks. In the corner I see a decaying body, wrapped up in blankets, in its arm is a gun, fully loaded. I take both and journey back outside, relieved to be away from the smell. The hallway seems a million times longer when I'm carrying the load.

I pass by the main office. It's strange to see what was once a bustling place, so desolate and abandoned. The windows are boarded up, papers strewn about the room, covering the ground. On the floor there's empty canned food and water bottles. A decaying body sits in a chair, a gunshot in its head.

I step into the destroyed office, horrified by the chaotic scene. The world that I grew up in has gone, been gone for some time. A clatter comes from down the hallway. I spin around. An awful feeling of dread enters my system. I crouch down low, gun in hand. I hear the sound of footsteps drag along the hallway. Silently, I load my gun, ready to shoot. In my other hand is my knife. I step out from behind to door.

No one is there. I scan down the hallway. It's empty. Slowly, I step towards the exit. As I reach the door, a hand grips my shoulder. I let out a terrified yelp. Turning around, I draw up my weapon, ready to strike. Instead there's a girl.

"Please help me, please!" she gasps. Her throat is dry from dehydration. Dried blood flakes on her face. She looks only about ten years old.

"What's your name?" I ask. I have no idea what to do. I'll get caught out and slowed down with her.

"Greta," she murmurs. "Water, please" she manages to say, her breathing shallow and forced. Just as I'm about to turn around to grab a bottle, I notice a splotch of blood soaking her jacket sleeve.

"You know what Greta? Let's just sit down for a minute and rest. That looks bad," I point to the wound, "your arm. Is it ok if I look at it?" She squirms away. "It's ok, I won't hurt you."

She finally lets me pull up her sleeve. Blood cracks free and falls to the floor like red snowflakes. It's a bite. Dread fills my body, but I quickly force a smile onto my face.

"Greta, why don't you lie down? I'm just gonna grab some medicine for that wound." She nods her head and shuts her eyes. I know what I have to do, but will I have the will to do it; to murder a girl?

'You're doing her a favor," I tell myself. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my gun. I'll have to do it fast. The noise will attract attention from the undead.

I lean in close to her. "It'll be okay, I promise." I soothe. Then I pull up the gun and quickly load and shoot. At the last second her eyes fling open in fear. Then she is gone. My heart rate quickens. I just murdered a girl. I reach down and give her body a hug, then quickly wish her onto the next life. I look around the room. From down the hallway there is at least five biters coming towards me. Sprinting to the door, I reload. Then I push it open. The sunlight pours in, momentarily blinding my sight. Then it refocuses.

Where to go? Where to go? I spot a truck parked next to the curb. I've rarely driven before. I got my learner's license just this year but the law doesn't apply now. I break the back window and unlock the car. I fling the supplies into the backseat and slide into the front. Flinging down the shade, I find the key. Our family always put it there, too. Quickly, I force it into the ignition. The engine roars to life. My foot presses down against the pedal and the truck shoots forwards. Half a tank of gas left; that will get me pretty far. Turning onto the main road, I head for the outskirts. There will be less biters there and more of a chance for survival.