A boy who looked younger than I, stood up when he noticed me. His orange-red hair was hidden under a black cap. His face was rather discolored by purple bruises.
"You just turned, didn't you?" The boy asked me. He quickly stood up when I nodded my head yes.
He stood in front of me and slid his hand around my throat. The memory of that man caused me to pull back briskly.
"Easy there. I was just looking at that bruise.... it's pretty bad." He said as he looked toward the window. His face was of pure hate, sorrow, and sympathy. " It's gonna stay there for a long time." He finished.
"Yeah, Until she decays completely." A dark haired, fair skinned girl said rhetorically as she walked up to check the tag on my wrist, "Don't try to be so nice to her, all she is is a rich brat who must've been foolin'around with some gang member..." her voice trailed off when she read the name.
She stared in disbelief at my tag and then looked up at me, backed up quickly, and bowed. She then quickly walked away and sat down on the long sofa that was running along two of the walls.
I began to think of a question to ask when a soft female voice came through the intercom.
"Please report to the garden, please report to the garden. Go through the hall, turn left, go up the stairs, and through the door on the right." She says and then the intercom went to a soft subtle static before turning off completely.
All of the people filed out of the room through the door in a neat, little line, like they have done this before. The red-head boy grabbed my arm and made me walk next to him as we went up the stairs to enter the garden.
When we went through the door, I realized that this 'garden', wasn't actually a garden but a gross roof with grass growing on it. There was a few flowers here and there but most of it was dead weeds. I turned my head to see that there was a helicopter pad on a higher platform.
"This way, please." A group of nurses said to us as we walked past, there smiles forced.
We were motioned through a line of tables to pick up a bag and a few things. First table was the bag, the second was our personal belongings that were on us when we were murdered or died. The peolpe at the third table gave us three cards; a credit card, and ID card, and an access card to our 'house'. All twelve of us who recently turned will be in the same house.
YOU ARE READING
Ruttnande virus: Life of a D-proppar
Science FictionThe Ruttnande virus has taken the world's dead and turns them into D-proppar. The government has acknowledged the new race and has decided to give them their own states. The world was a calm and peaceful place... but the horrific past is scratching...
