The Dystopian Perception

2

It was 10am when Gerard began driving, or thereabouts. He hasn't looked at the clock yet, because that's adjacent to the icon that exhibits the amount of gas that the car possesses, and he just hopes there's enough to last even a little longer. He won't check in fear that it's at an uncomfortably low level. He's only seen about a dozen of the creatures since this morning's events, and so he gathers he's a fair distance away and out into rurality, but he has to be sure. It's ill-lighted now though, and his arms ache, and his eyes sting, and his stomach growls and churns in hunger, and the skin upon his face is stiff with that of dried tears, although he daren't stop - in spite of struggling to even believe that this is his reality now, and not some sick, sick joke. Not until he finds a gas station or a store, at least.

It's been quiet for too long, he realises. Gerard doesn't like loud noises, but he does like a little bit of noise. He sighs then, as he recalls his iPod's battery died hours ago. He eventually resorts to switching on the car's radio, turning it up before attempting to locate a station that isn't only plain static due to the fact that there's no signal out here. That and the fact that most everyone - yes, even and including radio hosts and technicians along with them - has most likely stopped working and are now fending for themselves, as Gerard infers. Fighting for their lives, just as he is.

To his utmost astonishment, he finds one in operation. Muffled though it may be, and cutting off every few seconds, it is one all the same. He leaves it on and listens as he continues on in his journey, to an unspecified aimless location from wherever he is right now.

"Real life zombie virus outbreak-" it cuts off, but Gerard listens still, intently.

"-plague-"

"Spread through open wounds, eyes and mouths once they've made contact with any of their bodily fluids, as well as being bitten or-"

"Avoid towns and cities-"

"Camps are currently under construction for any survivors of the epidemi-"

"-emove head or destroy the brain."

The radio cuts out completely then, and the car itself grinds to a halt. Just as Gerard had dreaded in an aforementioned fashion, he's run out of gas. And power, brilliantly and concurrently. Now is a time that Gerard wishes his own exclusive willing could save him. Or that this is all in his head; that he is daydreaming, as per usual. Or that he'll wake up from it in the knowledge that it was merely a nightmare. But he won't.

Cautiously, Gerard exits his stolen vehicle as he sniffles and exhales a breath he hadn't been cognisant that he's been holding in. It isn't until now that he sees that it's tyres are painted in dried blood. There's no escape from palpability - even out here, where none of them are situated as of current. Every time he so much as blinks, he sees his mother's pupils constrict as she takes her dying breath. Every time he so much as blinks, he hears his father's torment-filled cries as he's changed. Every time he so much as blinks, he recalls his brother's persistence in staying with his family even if it means his own life comes to an end along with theirs. For a few moments, Gerard deliberates whether he should've done as Mikey did, although these thoughts quickly diminish. He knows he's going to die, but he doesn't want to in vain. He wants to be fighting. He doesn't want to give in. He knows other people would view this as an act of indefinite selfishness, or as being heartless in nature. Gerard doesn't mind.

Gerard analyses the area. It's difficult in the eeriness and the dark and the fogginess of the night, but it's just about manageable for him. He decides upon heading straight ahead on the road in front of him, and then the opposite way if he cannot find anything of use to him within a close range, however not before briefly revisiting the car and rooting through the trunk for anything he can potentially use as a weapon - just in case.  He settles on some sort of metallic bar in the direction of his desired trajectory.

The gravel on the roadside crunches upon every occasion that Gerard places his feet down, and he cringes at the sound. Gerard doesn't like this noise. It's harsh. It's... red.  If he wasn't willing before, he's willing now to find what he's looking for - discriminatively so he doesn't have to listen to his shoes on the gravel.

A minute passes.

Another.

And then, a red bar of neon light.

Gerard tries to make out what it is. He squints through the mist. His mouth agape, he sharply indraws his breath.

A gas station! An empty gas station with a small convenience store alongside it! In spite of being slight and with its structure barely even standing due to what Gerard assumes is age or lack of maintenance, Gerard can still see it's been recently used and in conveyance. He feels around in his jacket pocket and then in his jeans' for any change so that he'll be able to make purchases from here, nevertheless as he recollects, he'll not need that. The lights may still be working, but there is nobody inside of the building. Gerard deducts it's employees fled earlier on.

Dropping the bar, he grins widely at his sudden burst of luck and rushes back to the car. Gerard isn't very physically strong, and though his arms ache and he aches, he knows he can succeed in hauling it to the station. He pushes with every ounce of jaded strength he has left, and with a grunt and as the muscles in his limbs threaten to burn, the car begins to roll. It gets easier from here, and Gerard embarks to candidly run with it. The gravel beneath him resists and hits him in his face, his eyes, such at an alarming velocity, and it's noise turns from red to blue, but Gerard doesn't mind as much as before. He just knows he needs gas and food, and he is going to get it.

A industrious long five minutes of apprehension and exhaustion pass, and Gerard arrives again. He steers the vehicle towards the residence of a pump. Gerard stops for a minute to regain the steadiness of his breathing pattern. With a shaking hand cursed from his tiresome feat, he wipes the beads of cold sweat that have started to collect upon his head away from his brow with his shirt, and watches as his own chest rises and falls. It calms him, for some nonsensical reason. The motion is continual, like his jacket, and will be until the time comes that he leaves the earth. Gerard likes constant things.

It isn't long before Gerard advances once more and starts moving again. He fills up the vehicle's engine with gas, tapping his foot impatiently and still catching his breath, and then places the pump back into it's holder. Now, he makes his alacritous way over to the store.

Gerard pushes down on the handle and attempts to open the door in front of him, but his fatigued brain allows not for him to process that it is locked. After a few moments, he comes to the realisation that his endeavour is in vain, and almost starts to turn back towards the car with an exasperated sigh, but then he registers the shattered glass beneath him and the off-key noise it creates. Like the gravel, hindmost a visit to Satan himself. The store has been broken into before now. There's a way in. Tactfully, Gerard tilts his head to peer through the glass and into the store. He listens keenly for any noise; any sign of others whatsoever. It'd be catastrophic if he were to come into contact with one of them here - especially due to his knowledge of only one exit. There is none, and forthwith he decides upon worming in through the place in the door that the fragments of glass had once been; still cautious to make any reverberation.

As soon as he's found his way inside, he heads for the cans section; opening his arms and hugging the entirety of a shelf's contents to his chest as he locates the counter and searches for bags. He's seen post apocalyptic movies before - read through his comics hundreds of times over. He knows to take these over foods that expire quickly. He fills the bags with the food he's picked up and then goes back and does the same with any remaining tins. He doesn't know how long it'll be until all of this is over, after all. But this ordeal, of course, has been far too easy...

Just as he's about to leave, he hears a noise. Footsteps against the glass outside. They're quick. Oh God, they've found Gerard. They've found him. Not now, please please not now. His stomach drops rapidly. He gulps. He instantaneously lets go of the heavy bags that would only burden him in his escape; immediately regretting it as he reasons them to be masterly makeshift weapons, but he can't go back for them now. He scrambles seeking another way out, but his eyes won't stop moving. They've somehow forgotten how to. He becomes disorientated. His vision is dizzied. He's desperate. It's getting closer. He sees it's shadow on the floor. His brain is loud. This is it. This really is it. He squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation. He tries to imagine himself elsewhere in his final moments. Oh, if only he kept that stupid bar with him. At the least then he might stand a chance against-

"Hey!"