Beyond What We Know [COMPLETED]

CHAPTER 1 - The Outbreak

The outbreak was undoubtedly one of the most terrifying experiences of our lives. It was horrible in ways I can't even begin describing. Everything was calm and ordinary one second, and in the next chaos took over. It did come with a warning; we just couldn't wrap our heads around it. And before we knew it, it started spreading; we still don't know how, though.

My name is Ella Nicholas, and this is our story.

It all started about 4 years ago. From what I heard, there was this... patient, at the psych ward of the local hospital. Doctors thought he showed signs of some kind of psychosis, but in the course of about 72 hours, he began losing the ability to speak, and became extremely violent. His eyes were bloodshot and slightly darker all around, his strength spiked, he was no longer capable of rational thought, and started attacking everyone he could lay his hands on. The staff tried to contain him, but it was too late. He murdered two doctors, two nurses, injured another one, and then stormed out of the hospital. He managed to make his way to the center of the city, clawing at whoever crossed his path – or his field of vision, rather - until later that day, when authorities put him down. Everyone thought it was over, until more people started turning into those... things the following week. My mom was one of them.

I was peacefully watching the news on the TV in the living room, as I had been for a considerable chunk of the day, lying comfortably on the couch while devouring the chocolate chip cookies she had made the day before. I was shocked as I watched a live transmission which showed a bunch of those people erratically running around in the main streets. Two of them overpowered a cop, threw him on the ground and ripped him to pieces, seemingly out of the blue; another one attacked his own small child, right there in the middle of the street; a fourth and fifth ones started fighting, with the latter easily killing the former and jumping on another cop himself. I was honestly scared, and reasonably so, but I never thought I would have to deal with it firsthand. I stood up and walked to the kitchen to throw the napkins I'd used in the trash; as I was turning around, I felt something heavy tackle me, and I face-planted on the kitchen floor. It was my mom, and her turning process had begun. I managed to turn around, though still trapped by her, and that's when I saw her face. Although not as severe as the guy they called "patient 0", I could see the bloodshot in her eyes, and the madness that transpired through her empty gaze. I froze for a few moments out of fear, but I knew I couldn't give up: maybe if I didn't let her kill me she could still be saved. Maybe if I was quick enough. Maybe...

I managed to slip a leg between our bodies and shoved her away, making her land flat on her ass. Luckily, that dazed her long enough for me to reach the cutlery drawer and grab a knife, which I immediately pointed towards her as she got to her feet.

"Mom, stop! Listen! Look at me, it's me, Ella! Your daughter! I know you can hear me, c'mon let's get you help, I know you're still in there!"

But she wasn't. Maybe it was too late. I was alone with her, and in this condition there was no way I could possibly stuff her in the car in a way she couldn't hurt me and drive all the way to the hospital. Suddenly, the sound of three gunshots echoed throughout the house. I had left the TV on, and they had just killed someone on live national television. I didn't know if I should feel sorry for them, or glad that the sound was enough to divert my mother's attention. As she looked away in the direction of the sound and turned her back to me, I grabbed the kitchen cloth she uses when cooking, quickly – and, honestly, poorly – twisted it and threw it over her head to act as a gag so she wouldn't bite me. I forced the two ends together with my free hand, and then forced into myself the courage to stab into her skull. She was becoming stronger with every passing minute. This wasn't my mom anymore, but for her sake, I needed to put this thing to sleep; I needed to put my mom out of this misery. My left arm started burning, so I looked over to see her scratching at it with all her might, managing to cause small tears in my skin. It was the kick my brain needed to shove the knife into the side of her head and immediately pull it out, leaving her to fall to the floor still alive, but barely.

She wouldn't make it. They become progressively more resistant as the turning process goes on, so in the beginning they're just as fragile as any other human. I tumbled back a few steps, using my hands to help myself lean against the counter as I watched her squirm for a moment, then die. The tears were cold against the warmth of my eyes and face, and my arm hurt and burned like hell. My hands were shaking; I couldn't bring myself to believe what had just happened. It took me a very long while to actually try to process everything, and I still couldn't. From the living room, a couple more shots. So this really was the way to stop them, huh? I would say it's inhuman, but they don't really feel human to me. Whatever it was that started causing this, it could get to me at any moment. I needed to be very careful and stay away from anything even slightly suspicious.

I went up to the med cabinet and used the small first aid kit we had laying around for emergencies to take care of my arm. After bandaging the wounds, I took another kit, a bigger one, we kept in the cabinet for worse cases, and two bottles of pain killers. I made my way to the closet in the hallway, picked up an old camping backpack, shoved the med stuff in it and brought it to the kitchen. The mere sight of my mom's lifeless body on the floor, eyes red beyond what could be considered normal, and dark too, wide opened but blank, hit me like a truck and made me gag. But now the only thing left to do was leave. I cleaned the knife I'd used and put it in the bag; I filled up a big bottle of water and put it in as well. Then, from the pantry I chose every type of food I could take with me: chips, cookies, canned food, and threw it inside. As soon as I found my phone and power bank, my backpack was ready. I sincerely didn't think I would ever return to that house. If this situation was anything like the movies and series, which real life never is, it would only get worse. So I needed to get moving. Besides, I didn't have the stomach to stay home after what happened. As I walked to the door and grabbed the flashlight from the shelf, one last look around the house drove me out of it.

I became somewhat of a scavenger, I would say. Then again, everyone who wished to survive did too. The core and base of human interaction became trading, alliances and the rule of "you don't kill me, I don't kill you". It worked pretty well for the most part. You just had to be extra careful not to run into groups. Numbers and weapon possession were the biggest advantages they had. However, if you really wanted to survive, you couldn't remain alone forever. They would eventually catch you, and you'd be done for. Therefore, I set out to form a group of my own. I never had many friends besides Connor Khalil, my best friend since we were tiny babies. So, that's where I was headed.