Infected

chapter 1

Buildings echoed in silence. A light crisp breeze signaling winter is on its way, brown and red leaves fall on the ground, pairing with dark red stains decorating pavements, walls, floors, windows, cars...anything with a surface had swarms of flies and every room in this building had a rotting body. The smell of decay appears to be the latest edition of Calvin Kleins' new range of perfumes or colognes.
My footsteps were the only live sound that could be heard in these halls, except for the annoying bugs that flew around my head.

"Ah, piss off."
Swatting at the small buzzing insect was no use. Too slick and agile, dodging my every attempt to squash it. If there is one thing I hate more than the idea of wasting seventeen years of my life at school, crying over math problems at the dinner table with my dad, is bugs.

"Oh my god, I'm going to throttle myself." Groaning in annoyance, I wave my arms and clap my hands in hopes of killing this pesty insect. Splat.
"Thank God."
Wiping my hands down from the residue of the insect onto my already filthy jeans. A breeze tickles my neck, sending a cold shiver down my spine. It was quiet, too quiet, but that's probably because this is the apocalypse all movies described. Although they never mentioned how lonely it felt. Lonely, lonely. That's right, I'm alone. I killed my brother.
"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry." Inhaling sharply, my eyes felt a pang of pain once more. Itching to tear up again as my brain sent flashing images of his disfigured body on the ground. The indents and marks on his body and head that I caused protecting myself.

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry." That's my matra. Is it working? No. More images flash in my head. His eye was popped out of its socket, chipped out teeth and yellow, yellow gorging eyes resembling like the fish we used to catch. His grey complexion and black veins coursed through his body from the open wound he gotten when he was attacked by one of those creatures.

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. God, you sound insane. Pull yourself towards yourself. It's bad enough that you're talking to yourself in an abandoned hospital."
How ironic. A mad person talking to themselves in a hospital where they are supposed to be cured, more rather, fixed. Or what they once used to do.

"Bloody hell, I gotta get out of here. Where are the medical aid boxes?" Ranting to myself to make it seem as if I'm not entirely by myself and have somewhat company. Just me and the voices, and I only meant it as a joke in high school. Looks like jokes came into reality. Feet still echoed in deathly silent halls, the smell is growing on me as I grow accustomed to all this death and blood. Maybe I should've taken biology like Alex. I would actually know what I'm doing in this hellhole. Alex, I wonder how he's doing. Haven't seen him after the argument we had about Charlotte's disappearance.

"Nothing in here."
Another unsuccessful search in the wards room. I'm currently on the fifth floor and still have no luck.
God, I'm hungry. Does this place have any food? I wouldn't mind a McDonalds fries right about now. Even a milkshake. Anything that isn't expired would be great.

Lights further down the hallway flickered as specks of dust float in the air. Causing this place to look surreal. The dusk sunlight shining through broken glass of window cills along with the crunch underneath my trainers. I have to move quickly. No time to ponder. Find the medical aid box, get out of here, and survive.
Sliding my hand over the cold door handle, I opened it to reveal a scattered mess with bed sheets tangled and tossed around. Blood spots on them from long ago due to the coloring of the blood, which turned from red to brown. My eyes fell onto a cabinet door, which looked as if it were to fall off any minute. Striding, bending, leaning into the counter, letting my hands rummage through files, papers, medical slips, and...

"Found it."

I reassure myself pulling out a massive medical aid box. It looked like a treasure chest. At this point, it is because you don't know whether you're gonna live or not? Especially not having the right equipment. I pull my backpack open, shoving as many useful supplies inside. Along with snacks, flashlights, and a portable solar panel power bank. It was definitely useful when I had to charge my phone. Although it's useless because there is no wifi network or anything running in the area anymore.

"Hrrggg."

A high-pitched scream sounded from the lower floor. What was that?
I froze, my head turning around to the door I walked in. Listening intently. Quietly. No movement. No sound, or I'm toast. I'm not alone.

"Hhrrggg."

There is something here, and it's close. Too close. I stand up slowling leaving the rest of the expired medication behind along with empty ointment tubes. This high-pitched clicking sound is definitely setting my nerves off. My senses are at an all-time high now. Zipping ny bag up slowly slinging it over my shoulder; walking closer to the door to listen closely. Footsteps, heavy footsteps , and crunching noises stalked closer to the room.

Deep breathes Ry. Deep breathes. I tell myself, looking around the room for a weapon. I need to find the cover. I shuffle quickly back to where the massive wooden table, rummaging through the drawers for something sharp. Scissors, perfect. A few pencils that can work. Holding stationary in hand as my newfound weapons. My breathing is a bit shaky as I make an attempt to calm my nerves by counting from one to a hundred. One, two, three, four, five. A grumble was heard. Ten, eleven, twelve. Loud stomps of some creature. The sound seems to be something that walks on all fours. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. Breathing, heavy breathing. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine. A door creeks. It's in the room. Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest. I swear that it could be heard from a few meters away. My head spinning as I counted faster to myself. Sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight. A low gurgle sounded in the room, close to the table. Too close for comfort. Without wanting to make a single sound, I try move back, back into the desk. I wish I could be mended into the wood and stay there for the rest of eternity rather than having to keep running. Eighty-eight. Nails were dragged above my head on the wood. Fear, anxiety, and the drive to scream were all too much. I stopped counting ages ago, focusing more on the fact that Salvia was dripping on the ground profusely. It's on the table. It's right above me. Oh god, I'm gonna die. This is the end. This is officially the end. Lord have mercy.

"HAARGGG!"

"AHHHHHHH!"

The thump of a head rolling across the floor of what I think is the creature. Considering the black disturbing veins and yellow eyes that just seem to bore into my soul. Whimpering like a child, i crawl as far away from the head. Just want to look away from the horrendous sight. Wait, its head is off. How did I even miss that part? I shoot my head back, seeing the head was cut off clean, extremely clean. What cut its head off?
The next thing I know I'm knocked on the head with a blunt object, Blacking out the moment my head hit the ground.