Love is Dead

In Which the World is on Fire

The world has long been burning since the dawn of humankind, but nowadays it seems more literal as I gaze at what once was a great city. The rats seemed to crawl more frantically than before and the streets were lined with the leftover turmoil and rubble from the looting. Yes, it was the apocalypse. And with any apocalypse, there were the undead. You know, the humans who couldn't make it. The skin on their faces seemed to be melting, and they gave off such terrible screeches I dare not have a pair of earplugs in. The sound of rotting corpses haunting every corner of each alley and every street of New Jersey seemed to echo. And for a girl who'd long since given up the thought of ever being a "survivalist". It was my own personal hell.

"Who the hell looted all the chef boyardee cans?!" I grumbled as I sorted through the overrun grocery store.

It's been a few months now since the Ophio-aspergillus unilateralis virus broke out. (Fancy name, I know.) And as far as I can tell, there haven't been many survivors. Which is a bit ironic in my opinion, considering it was an experiment for a longer-lasting life. But every deal has its catch. A small group of filthy rich people had supposedly used the viral vaccine before its approved use. The viral itself was intended to force the brain to continue the prolonged regeneration of cells. But It didn't last for long until it caused all sorts of mutations. The brains of the few celebrities grew sluggish and aggressive, the fungal spores burst from their brains in the crowds and spread like wildfire. Although if I'm being honest, I wasn't aware of this until it had spread across the globe. I was abismally bliss to the matters of the world as a fresh highschool student. The news was covered in it though. It was the last thing I saw air on television.

Now, the streets were a hellscape of broken glass, twisted metal, and the occasional flicker of what used to be neon lights, casting a sickly glow on the carnage below. I rummaged through the debris, desperately hoping for anything edible—any last remnant of normalcy in this nightmare. But all I found were empty cans, shattered dreams, and the stench of decay.

"I just want a good taco, man," I grumbled as my mouth watered at the thought of fresh food. I've started feeling sick from all the old cans.

Suddenly, a shrill screech pierced the air, and I froze, my heart racing. A figure emerged from the shadows, its face a grotesque mask of twisted flesh and spored guts. A large purplish shroom was burst from its head and the remnants of its brain were scattered down what remained of its face grotesquely. The undead were drawn to the sound of a call, just like moths to a flame. I had to move, but my legs felt like lead. I was so tired.

"Get a grip, Carmen!" I muttered to myself, forcing my feet to shift despite wanting nothing more than to be able to relax. I ducked behind a toppled and overgrown shelf, praying it would provide some cover. The creature stumbled closer, its movements jerky and erratic, fueled by some unnatural hunger. I heard its jagged steps near my location and the gurgling of it choking on its own drool was horrendous. I held my breath as I put on my mask from my quarantine suit. The only thing that had kept me from breathing in bursted spores.

As it turned the corner, I caught a glimpse of its sunken and soulless eyes—an echo of the person it once was. A brief Guilt washed over me. These were once human beings, victims of an unfathomable disaster. I felt my hand reach for a rusted pipe nonetheless and I gripped it anxiously. I've killed enough to not give a damn at this point.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my makeshift weapon—a rusted pipe—clutched in my hands. My stomach churned, This was my new reality. I was no longer just a girl trying to make it in the big city after graduating high school. I was a scavenger in a world that wanted to eat me. But just as I went to swing the creature ran off as a loud clatter of objects shot from behind.

A sudden noise drew my attention; a loud crash from the back of the store. My heart raced as I peered around the shelf. Another survivor? Or worse—more undead? I had to know.

Cautiously, I edged toward the sound, trying to stay silent. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, to hide, but curiosity tugged at me like a stubborn weed. What if there was someone else? Someone who could help me navigate this hell?

With one final breath, I turned the corner, ready for whatever lay ahead.