The Newborn Apocalypse

The Beginning of the Middle

Chapter One

The Beginning of the Middle

Everyone always says they get it. That they understand. But 95% of the time, they don't have a clue. This applies to a lot of different things, you know. Not just me, or the story I'm about to tell you. It applies to just about everything that's ever happened to us in our entire lives. No matter how long, or how short it might be. Why don't we start right, smack in the middle of this...

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I'm running. As fast as i possibly can. I'm trying to keep up with the rest of us. I can't, I'm in too much pain. There's not enough adrenaline in the world to make the pain of this injury bearable. It's not a bite or any infection of some sort like in any other apocalyptic bull that movie producers come up with. That's just too used. The real apocalypse is just a little hard to explain. It's unlike anything we've ever seen before. I'm slowly being paralyzed. I'm in so much pain that it's unbearable to stand still, but then we move, and it only hurts worse. I've fallen..

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I'm not entirely sure what happened next. All i know is, I woke up the next morning. Pain free, and in my bed at home.

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I woke up with a start and jolted up. Feeling the softness of the sheets around me, I forced myself to calm down. My eyes slowly cleared of the fear that was clouding them and I looked around. I soon realized I was back home. As I realize thus, I'm up and running as fast as I can towards the door. It's locked! I've been trapped.

What the hell is going on!! Think Samantha... Just take a minute to gather...

Then I realize, I'm locked from the inside. I've been spending so much time freaking out that I didn't realize this before.

Slowly, I unlock the door as quiet as I possibly can. I hear a click. A little too loud for my taste. But it got the job done, seemingly not disturbing anything else. I think I've done it. Now, slowly and quietly like before, (not so quiet), I open the door a few centimeters. I peek around a bit with what little I could see of my surroundings. Nothing but my normal house is there. So I listen.

Focus Samantha. This could be key to my survival.

Nothing. Dead silence.

Now, slightly more relaxed, I open the door wider, but not quite as slow as before. I can see better now. I can see the extremely cliche painting of a fruit bowl directly across from my bedroom door. It's almost wide enough for me to slip through.

Almost there! Be very careful....

Now, without making a sound, I open the door just wide enough for me to squeeze through.

I'm out! I'm safe!

I walk slowly and quietly down the hallway of my neat, clean white house. I'm trying not to act alarmed. Just in case I'm still being watched. It seems like an eternity until I reach the staircase that leads down in my perfect, too good to be true house.

Be calm Samantha. Breathe in. Now breathe out. You're gonna be fine. Just keep thinking strategically.

I take my first step down the stairs.

*Creek* No!!

I stop dead in my tracks. I wait. I listen. Nothing. I carefully take another step down the stairs, trying to be a little more silent this time. It works. I take two more steps, as silently as I possibly can.

Wait!

I stop. I listen again. Silence. Nothing but silence. I do the same every step of the way down. It's always nothing but silence. The only sounds being made are the pounding heart in my chest, and my shaky breathing. The anticipation and fear building in my chest is almost suffocating me. It's sending uncontrollable chills down my spine.

I've made it down the stairs at last!

Remember Samantha. Strategic thinking!

I crouch down, trying to come up with my next move. Looking around, I see my dining room to my right. I see the living room to my left. I slowly crawl to get under the dining room table for cover. I begin to look around a little more.

What the hell?

The house grows to be more and more unfamiliar looking. All of the stains, scratches, and cracks from growing up seem to have disappeared. I'm dumbfounded.

Suddenly, I hear a noise. It's coming from upstairs. I slow my breathing, and stay as still as I possibly can. A woman whom I've never met walks down the stairs. She spots me at once.

"Samantha?" She asks. "What the hell are you doing under the dining room table?"

I'm petrified.

Back away Samantha. Find a weapon. Run.