Abigail "Abby" Sinclair is a brilliant, idealistic political science student deeply engrossed in a debate about societal contracts and human nature. As news alerts and a chilling video paint a picture of societal breakdown, her intellectual world and the real one collide violently.
ABIGAIL'S POV
Chaos barely contained behind the studio's bright lights. The anchorwoman sits rigid at the news desk, her professionalism faltering with each forced swallow. Her co-anchor, Jim paces off-camera, voice low and urgent into a phone. Producers scramble, their frantic whispers a dissonant hum against the polished newsroom facade.
"We apologize for the interruption, folks," the anchorwoman begins, her voice tight. "We're getting unconfirmed reports of escalating violence in several rural communities stretching across the Midwest. Authorities are advising citizens to stay indoors..."
Jim cuts in, taking his seat with grim determination. "We've managed to secure a live feed from a local affiliate near one of the affected areas. Yna, are you on the line?"
The screen flickers, resolving into a harried reporter amidst debris. Burnt-out vehicles smolder behind her, a plume of smoke rising in the distance like a grotesque finger pointing at the sky.
"Jim, the situation here is deteriorating rapidly," Yna reports. "Just hours ago, this was a sleepy farming town. Now, it looks like a warzone. Locals are fleeing in droves."
A wave of panicked refugees surges into the frame. A farmer, his overalls stained with blood, grabs the mic, his voice raw with terror. "It's like...something outta the movies. Folks turning on each other, like they was rabid. The hospital couldn't handle it-"
He's shoved aside by a distraught woman, tears carving streaks through the grime on her face. "My Billy...they bit him, right in front of me. We got out, but Lord knows if he's..." Her voice breaks into ragged sobs.
The reporter tries to restore order, but her questions are drowned out by the growing cries of the refugees, a discordant chorus of "...saw them tearin' people apart...", "...ain't no sickness, it's evil...", "...gotta get to the city, they'll help us there."
"Yna, can you confirm what these people are describing?" The anchorwoman's voice holds a tremor now. "Are local authorities-"
The satellite feed cuts out abruptly, replaced by static. Jim and the anchorwoman exchange a worried look.
"We're working to re-establish contact," Jim addresses the camera, his usual composure cracking. "But as you can see, the situation is fluid and frankly terrifying. What we don't have are clear answers. But one thing is certain, something deeply unsettling is happening in the heartland. Stay tuned, stay safe, and we'll update you as we know more."
FADE TO BLACK
My stomach rebels, the half-eaten bagel now a lead weight threatening to join the churn of images seared into my brain - burning cars, bloodied faces, screams about...the unthinkable. The newscasters use words like "outbreaks" and "containment", their practiced calm failing to mask the fear shimmering just beneath the surface.
"This can't be real," I whisper, as if saying it aloud will break the nightmare. But the sinking dread in my gut tells me otherwise. Isn't that how it always starts? You hear whispers of distant disaster until suddenly, it's at your doorstep.
YOU ARE READING
Death by Blood
Science FictionA single mistake unleashed a nightmare. From the secretive halls of Briarwood Research Complex, a bioweapon meant to cripple enemies has devolved into a horrifying plague, transforming humans into ravenous, decaying monsters. As cities crumble and s...
