2015-The Plague Years

Prologue

If there's anything I've learned from this, it's that people are stupid. The person is calm, rational, smart. But the people are panicky, irrational, and stupid. Governments, either overreacting to the threat of the plague, or pretending it didn't exist, were no help. "Stay calm," they told us,"We've got this under control." And at first they did. But the infections, they rose to the surface, slowly, until one day there were a mob of corpses at your front door and the "Containment Squads" nowhere to be found. The media was all one big clusterfuck of misinformation and "Specialists" that resulted in nothing but conflicting information and a nation ignorant to the apocalypse bubbling up in it's back yard. People tried to talk to the infected, reason with them. I wonder if they knew just how stupid they were. They'd restrain em', tie their loved ones up and lock them in a room. They really didn't know what was happening to their families.

Things might not of kicked off so fast had it not been for the swarms from Mexico. They say the plague started in South America, Brazil or Argentina I think. It slowly worked it's way up, until it reached the U.S. border. Immigration between the two countries had almost ground to a halt, and so the plague just took it's sweet time getting nice and saturated in the population. Next thing you know, huge swarms, hundreds, thousands, were just trampling past the fence and right up into Texas, California, Arizona and New Mexico.

And so began the plague years.

Chapter 1: Invasion

I was sitting on the couch, watching TV, when the apocalypse walked right into my house. My little brother, Caleb, was in the game room playing Xbox while I procrastinated on my English assignment.

"Drake! Come in here!" Caleb shouted at me from across the house. Reluctantly I got off the couch and headed to the game room. I walked into the room. Caleb was standing, staring wide eyed at the window. "What are you look..." I said as I turned and saw, in the window, my English teacher. Mr.Gabriel, wearing a shredded tie and a stained white shirt, looked intensely at Caleb through the glass. He slowly reeled his head backwards, looked straight up, and smashed his head against the glass. The glass bulged, fracturing slightly. I had no idea what to think. He repeated the attack. A sparse web of cracks spread across the glass. "Caleb," I said as Mr.Gabriel prepared for another concussion,"We should leave." He swung his head against the glass. The window was barely still in place. I grabbed Caleb by the arm, and I quickly took him from the room. As I shut the door I heard glass shatter. I was terrified, but I tried not to show it. I heard him from behind the door, stumbling into the game room. I took Caleb to the kitchen and grabbed the first weapon I could find, a 6-inch butcher knife. The news reports echoed through my head. So this was the plague, this was what it looked like, I thought to myself. I remembered the government warning, saying to "Contact your local law enforcement to request a Containment Squad in case of attack by a plague victim." I quickly dialed 911, to no avail. I received an automated message. Sorry, but this line appears to be down. Try again later. I was beginning to panic. The infected were, or at least I had been told they were, like rabid beasts. I couldn't fight one, not in my physical condition anyways. I heard the thump of the infected man on the door. Caleb was scared, I could see it on his face. "Don't worry," I said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "The police will come and take care of this." Caleb seemed relieved, but not by much. I was still trying to appear like the brave older brother I was supposed to be when gunfire erupted outside.

I went out my front door and saw chaos. The police, alongside some soldiers who I assumed to be the Containment Squad were trying to keep order as people ran, or shambled, through the neighborhood. People were on the ground, mauling others, while the cops shot at the growing crowd of infected civilians. The Containment Squad were in black padded armor, carrying assault rifles that they used with deadly efficiency. Lawns and houses were on fire, cars sped through the street and ran over others trying to escape. But behind my panicked neighborhood, through the carnage, I saw something that scares me shitless even today. A whole swarm, slack jawed and dull eyed, shambled toward the gunmen, toward our house. There must of been one hundred, two hundred... That was all it took. I grabbed Caleb, and we ran.

We sprinted across the lawn, towards the Containment Squad and, unfortunately, a melee of bullets, fists, and teeth. We were several houses away from our possible salvation, with nothing but carnage at our backs. We sprinted past a woman, arms outstretched and mouth wide open. A deep guttural moan escaped from her lips, along with a spray of blood and bile. She lunged at Caleb, missed, and fell flat on her face over the asphalt. One of the cops was on the ground being mauled by four of the things. They ripped out his intestines, feasting on them. Just a little farther until I reach the police, I thought. A black pickup sped past, nearly hitting us. It swerved into a dense cluster of them. A few crashed through the windshield. Blood spattered across the window as the truck swerved off the road, crashing into a house. I kept running, hoping that Caleb could keep going, willing myself to make it. As we came near a black-clad soldier he centered his sights on us. We stopped. He lowered his weapon.

"Have they bit you? Scratched you? Touched you?" He shouted at us, glancing over his shoulder at the oncoming hoard. "No!" I shouted over the gunfire. He gestured to a black armored van with several people sitting inside. We ran in. I sat down and tried to help Caleb. He was crying, and I couldn't blame him. "It's okay, everything will be alright." I said in a weak attempt at comfort. But I knew, deep down inside, that nothing would ever be okay again.