The Infection

The Blonde Boy

As I walk down the street I start to notice little sounds, probably an infected scurrying around like an overgrown rat on all fours just waiting to get the opportunity to pounce on me, but this won’t be like last time! Now I have my pistol with me, six shots of pure, screaming death for whatever get’s in my way towards living another day. I stop, something has got to be behind me now, i’m sure of it. I turn into the abandoned H&R Block, and wait for whatever is coming...

It has been at least an hour since I’ve hidden myself, whatever is out there must really want to find me, and when it does, I hope it likes what it see’s, because it’ll be the last thing it see’s too. They must be right outside the window now, I hope it didn’t see me move when I pulled out my pistol. Oh No! It did! The door opens, slowly and surprisingly cautious for an infected, I guess they must just be getting smarter as time progresses, not unusual if you used to follow all those old movies about zombies. How ironic that is now too. Wait, there’s still something in the store, why are they so quiet?! The only noise was from the wind blowing through the broken building. Well they won’t get me! I pull up and shoot as fast as I can, aiming more off of sound than sight because i’ve learned to be able to rely on individual senses instead of them as a whole. Then it occurs to me, as I ducked back down, I saw blonde hair, not the pasty, bald head of an infected. That means.. Oh no, did I just shoot a human? But why didn’t they shout? I better go check on them.

I crouch slowly and begin to draw closer to where the body would be. Nothing in the store has moved for at least three minutes. I see an object start to move in the corner. I immediately shoot my gun where I saw the movement. A scream escapes from the shadows and a young boy falls into the dim rays of light breaking through the shattered windows. “Why!? Why did you do that!? Oh god my arm!” I slammed down on top of him and put my hand over his mouth. He continued to scream and kick, trying to get out of my grip. I slapped him and he became quiet.

“Shut the hell up!” I whispered, “They’re going to kill you if you don’t shut your mouth.” He looked at me with brown eyes that have been lost. He opened his mouth to talk with sweat running down his face. I cut him off, “No. Don’t say a word.” I hear a scratching from the ceiling and the creaking of the weak walls. I quickly pull him up, “We have to go. Now!” I grabbed him and pulled him out of the abandoned store.

He pulls a gun from his hip and holds it up to me, “Who are you!?” I stay quiet. “Answer me!” he shouts. The earth starts to shake below our feet. He looks up at the broken building and lowers his gun, “Well, shit.” The building starts to crumble. As bigger chunks fall off he looks at me with despair. He turns around and starts to run, “What are you doing? Come on!” he yells at me. I begin to run after him, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I turn to see a dark figure bounding towards us. I quickly grab my pistol from its holster and shoot the Infected. My aim never really has been that great, but today I hit it. I hit it in the leg. It tripped and fell face first into the pavement. The rest of H&R Block tumbled on top of the evil beast.

He stops running and turns towards me. His face is pale and white now. Probably from the loss of blood. His eyes are glazed over and he begins to stumble. I catch him and help him to continue standing. We start to walk in silence towards my shelter. Who is this guy? I thought I was the only one left. Where did he come from? Are there others there? Don’t be stupid, Sonja! There is nobody else. They’re all dead....or worse. My eyes start to water as I think about what just happened. I’ve been alone in this world for almost ten years, thinking that there was nobody else alive. Only to have a young boy stumble into my city, unannounced. Why? Why now?

We arrive at my house and I lay him down onto the couch. His face is ghostlike. The blood from the shot in his arm had stopped bleeding after about 30 minutes. He had passed out ten minutes later, leaving me to carry him the last four blocks. I walk into my kitchen and Spyro pokes up his head, then gets up to greet me. I kneel down to pet him, “Hey bud. How was it while I was gone? Anything exciting happen?” Spyro wags his tail and looks over to the torn up carcass of a deer he had killed earlier today. “Well, at least one of us got food.” He tilts his head in confusion, “Go look for yourself.” I say and he walks into the living room. I grab a bowl of water and a wash cloth to clean the kid’s wound. He’ll probably need stitches too. I head into the bathroom and grab the sewing kit. As I head back into the livingroom I hear a noise coming from Jeremy’s room. I put down the supplies by the passed out teenager and grab my gun.

I slowly walk up the stairs into the hallway. As I turn to go into the room I hear the same noise again. What could it be? Has an infected somehow gotten into my makeshift fortress? I draw my pistol and stop outside his door, listening quietly for the noise. I only hear the wind blowing, slamming the shutters against the wall. I turn into the doorway, hand at the ready. Nothing. Nobody was there. No Infected freak. Just the old bedroom with the toys still spread out on the floor from the night we left. I haven’t come up here since. Seeing the empty room where my child used to play. It’s been ten years since he died. My eyes start to water as I stare at the empty room. I didn’t cry until now. I’m a horrible person. My son, Jeremy Ryan Smith, seven years old, died. I didn’t shed a tear until now. When I saw his deserted room, exactly how he left it. You can’t cry in a world where everyone is dead. Nothing would make that change.