Brandon Nation
The Infection
Chapter one, Don't Forget
I woke up to the sound of panic and chaos in the streets. Screaming echoed and bounced off of the multitude of buildings in the urban city scape. I shook myself awake to become more alert, and then headed toward the window. As I looked out into the streets of New York City, I saw that everyone was running in panic from something that I could not make out. It looked to be from other people. Squinting my eyes to see, they were running from other people. My first impression was that we were under attack, but as I looked closer, these people were biting them. Some were even eating. There was someone at the door of the apartment I was in. He was beating on it, trying to get in, probably to get away from those things.
I stepped back in horror and quickly got dressed in confusion and started downstairs for the door of my apartment complex. Before I reached the door, I noticed that the loud panic I had heard previously was suddenly silent, and instead, was replaced with a scratching at the door. I retrieved my pocket knife from my jeans, and I very carefully and slowly reached for the door knob. The scratching seemed to grow louder and there was some moans coming from the other side of the door. I twisted the door knob and as soon as I did, a person came bursting through the door, gnashing his teeth at me. It knocked me to the floor and was viciously scratching and appeared to be trying to bite me. I rolled it over, kicking the door closed with my foot, and holding my knife to its neck.
"What are you doing, you deranged madman?!" I yelled to him, still having the knife to his neck. He still just kept gnashing at me with bloodlust eyes, and his fighting against my knife caused my knife to draw blood from his neck. He didn't even seem fazed though. I picked him up and dragged him, well rather, avoiding his biting, and locked him in the broom closet.
Bewildered at what I just witnessed, I was all that more confused at the current situation I was in. Again hearing scratching at the door, now more than before, as well as from the closet, I went back upstairs. I locked my door and went back to my window. Looking outside, I saw the city seemed to be filled with these crazed people.
Wondering what to do next, I took the remote and turned it on to the news. All the channels were off, and were instead replaced with a black screen and a message on it. It read, "This is an emergency bulletin. A plague has spread throughout several areas of the world. If you are in an affected area, do not attempt to help the infected. Stay inside and make sure you have enough food and rations for two to three weeks..."
So that's it then. It was the apocalypse. I took a deep sigh and just sat for a minute, staring at the T.V. These... things... were infected. I had to get to a safer place. That door downstairs and my apartment door could only hold them for so long.
I went back to the window to see again just how real this was. I saw someone across the street in the condo. He was moving everything in his condo against the door. They had obviously made it into his complex. I thought of yelling to him, but that would only attract more of those things to my complex. I just sat next to the window and watched, helplessly. He was trying to slide his bed over against the door when his door began to shake. He ran over and threw himself at the door. He managed to hold the door for a short time, but he was soon overrun. I turned my head to avoid the sight. I had to leave if I were to survive. I thought it would be better to be on the move until some of this stuff settled down. Unfortunately, how was I supposed to escape in the first place? I was trapped by at least fifty of those things by now. Then I remembered that my building was close enough to the building next to mine that I could jump across and escape through that one.
I quickly grabbed a duffle bag and filled it with a few bottles of water, dehydrated foods from my pantry, and ammunition. I kneeled down and pulled out a guitar case from under my bed. When I opened it, I found my old revolver from when I was a sheriff in Arizona ten years ago. I checked to see if it was still loaded and preceded to my door. When I opened it, I looked down my staircase to see that the infected person was still in the closet, helplessly clawing at the door, and the main access door was being beaten on harshly by the horde of infected behind it. Checking that it was safe, knife in hand, I went to the top floor and climbed up the maintenance latter to the roof. Walking up to the edge, I looked down. Well, that was stupid. All that did was make me doubt what I was about to do. I threw my duffle bag across to the neighboring roof and stepped back. Taking three breaths, I sprinted for the edge and jumped. The fear and thrill I felt were so immense that I could barely keep from screaming. I had to bite my tongue to stay silent, else I alert the infected below. It must have been a good three seconds I was in the air. Soon my first foot touched the other side. My second foot didn't. I slipped and quickly grabbed the side with my fingertips. I was hanging on with a leg and fingertips grasping over the lip of the edge.
