Average or Worse

Chapter One

Part I

The candle was burning too quickly. Hot wax was oozing slowly down the light-source and boiling my hand. But I couldn’t stay in the attic for much longer, a spirt was in there. I could sense it. 

As I tripped down the stairs like a drunken fool I dropped the candle, causing the flame to die out and the top to be smashed in. Luckily, mom collects candles, or she used it, so there is a surplus around the house. The only concern was getting infected, but I had done everything the articles had said to get rid of the bacteria. So why was I so afraid to go into my own home?

I found another candle on a side table next to the abandoned couch before picking it up I sprayed some more cleaning supplies on it, which was right next to the table, I managed to keep it everywhere at this point.

Pulling at the damp sweater I had on, I heard it, the familiar sound of gunshots. My head throbbed as I sunk into the wall area where the china cabinet used to be; I had to sell it for money. But there was a sound, an odd one I had probably never noticed because the china cabinet was there. Last month I sold it and since then the sound of gunshots has been driving mad, along with constant disinfecting.

Until I found my sanctuary, the attic, where nobody ever went, hence no infectious things. Plus in the attic you can’t hear the guns, the screams, and the people who move dead bodies.

Even the aware sound of cars engine igniting made me want to curl up in a ball.

So when I heard an unknown suspicious sound behind the wall of the house I have lived in my entire life, you can imagine my terror.

I had a quick spasm of fright, tugging at my sweater sleeve like I was angry, then toppling of over from my sitting position, sending my six foot two frame almost to the kitchen floor.

After rolling both ankles and slapping myself lightly on both sides of my face, I accomplished to get back up.  I looked in the fridge, it was all probably contaminated. I was starving; I hadn’t eaten for three days now. And I was really getting sick of the canned olives (cans can’t get contaminated) the house for some reason has a surplus of.

Then I realized there was no more canned goods.

What does that mean?

Traveling into the world where I can’t even handle the sound of a car start?

Now, I can’t even imagine what you all think of me? A wus, right? I’m a man, I am supposed to be part of the solution, not be cramped in a house too scared to go to a market and buy myself a can of corn.

 I am a wus, though; I am scared to go outside. I’ll admit it; I can’t stand the letters my sister sends, I can’t succeed in staying still when I hear gunshots, a sound I really should be used to.

But when I hear people outside shouting about a cure I want to go all the off the handle. I know this information is fabricated so why give false hope? And then I think if it is true they made a cure for Redden why couldn’t they have made a cure earlier? Before, before everything?

The area from the kitchen to the front door was one of the difficult walks of my life. I couldn’t quite seem to make myself open the door. I wish somebody, anybody, was here to push me to go outside. But nobody was…

Literally forcing myself to walk out the door I stumbled out. My body was so fragile now, but at the same time so unbreakable. Or at least I hope.

                                                                                 ~

The convenient store, the only one opened for three blocks, was dirty. But I got enough corn and carrots to last a month.

When I heard the sound of another gunshot my whole body involuntarily jumped. I ended up, I’ve said about how tall I am, or at least my head did, near an ally. Just enough so I could see a peak of what was happening.

It looked like some random kids I may have known from school, those trying to be a gangster, want to be hard types.

But now they looked serious. With guns in their pockets and it looked like they were unlocking some chamber. It was probably going underground because the place they were unlocking it from was on the ground. Then there was a girl, it looked like they were pushing her in the chamber.

Suddenly one of the members, I wouldn’t call them a gang, approached me.

He looked at me with a malevolent glare.

“Did you see anything?” He said through his teeth.

I was horrified, what should I say? If I say no he will say he just saw me looking. If I say yes he might throw me down the chamber and torture me like his group did with the girl.

“Yes, but I won’t say anything.”

“You sure about that?”

I looked up, or at least I attempted, at the gun that was now pointed at my head. It seemed like a cold breeze went by abruptly. Then I started to sweat.

“Y-y-ou can trust me, I promise.”

“I better. Now if I hear that somebody finds out you is in big trouble lil’ boy.”

With that he let me crawl away in shame. I was sure why he called me “lil boy”; I was probably two years older and a foot taller. It doesn’t matter though, he had a gun, he had a crew. What do I have? My ferocious army of canned corn? Oh, intimidating. I don’t know how I could be so senseless and not even bring some sort of weapon out here.

Another weird thing about that was why he was making such a big deal out of it. People, especially women, get kidnaped all the time. And worse…

Thing again what do I know? I have been hidden inside an attic for the last month.