CreepyPasta's Stories

Plague

You aren't going to understand what you're reading. It's a lot to grasp with such little explanation. It will all come to you soon, though. Just give it time. Bombs burst outside. Gunshots echoed throughout the city.

I looked down at my wound, a cranberry-color staining my white shirt. Another gash adorned my arm. I reached out for the hot iron, my Hawaiian shirt could wait. I slammed the hot metal surface onto my wound, cauterizing the cut.

On second thought, I really don't think anyone is going to give a shit if my Hawaiian shirt is wrinkled. Thumping and moans rang through the halls outside my door. I should have know it would reach the city. I knew there was no such thing as a safe zone. My bags were packed, I was ready to get out of there.

The radio on my nightstand blared.

"Daniel, we're going to have to get the fuck out of the city. I'm waiting outside but you're gonna have to get here fast."

The British bastard on the other end of that radio was Jon. Real good guy, I met him some time before the war, and we hit it off, working together as a unit during the war.

We were a good team, Jon and I. We still are.

I rushed down the hallway, shoving everyone out of my way, infected or not. I was headed for the glass window at the end of the hall.

The glass around me shattered into a million pieces as I dove through it.

One of those things latched onto my foot, pulling me down as my hand grasped the ladder leading up to Jon's helicopter. I struggled for a second trying to wiggle it off. Finally I jerked myself free, resulting in my newfound infected friend plummeting downward toward the streets, now overflowing with panickers, rioters, anarchists, and infected. It was pure madness.

People liked to take advantage of the apocalypse. They used it to spread chaos. Now was a good example. Fire bombs erupted, taking multiple lives.

We were headed to an area of the wasteland, outside the walls of the city.

Once I was in the helicopter, I closed my eyes, and I rested. The faces of men I'd killed raced through my mind. My wrong-doing had long since been burned into my eyelids.