The Last Legends: A Novella

Alec

Once again, I read the alert on my phone before it died for the last time:

Emergency Alert!

Critical outbreak of an unknown disease!

Remain indoors save for emergencies only! 

The EDOCC will come for you when the outbreak is under control. 

Shortly after the outbreak, the Emergency Disease Outbreak Control Center had been established in hopes of finding a "cure". Cures are stupid. You can't cure something that's already dead. And, within the short while it took for the power to shut off, that was proven.

Screaming, I threw my phone against the wall in a mixture of irritation and boredom. The screen went black, either from being broken or the battery having died, I didn't bother to find out. Being couped up in a house for several months would tend to drive a person to at least the brink of insanity. Especially when the last two were spent with only the dead as company.

393 million guns were privately owned in the United States and about 10 billion rounds of ammunition are made for those guns every year. Yet America fell in no time. Because people are idiots. They panic. They fight and kill each other in desperation even though there is a terrifying enemy closing in on them from all sides.

As Dad had been an avid gun collector, the family had stockpiled plenty of ammunition and weapons before the outbreak, but he had also taken much of that with him when he left for resources three months ago. Then Mom had taken pretty much everything else in search of him when he didn't come back.

All of that was more than two months ago now. I had no siblings with me, nor a pet that I could protect. I was alone in an infected world. Unlike Mom, I wasn't an idiot. I knew Dad wasn't coming back. And I knew she wasn't either. So all I could do was survive for now.

I waited on the couch a few minutes before growing impatient and deciding it was bright enough for me to partake in my normal routine. I traveled up to my parents' closet and swung it open; since they weren't coming back, I saw no reason to lock it. I grabbed one of Dad's rifles and a box of ammunition before leaving. In my room I grabbed my bow and every arrow I had; the gun was for emergencies only.

I swung my quiver over my back, as well as my rifle sling and made my way to the door. After looking through a peephole Dad had made through the boarded-up glass, I swung the door open, quietly closing it behind me, and made my way to the house that used to belong to my neighbor, Jim Something-Rather. He had actually left well before the Outbreak got really bad, leaving a boarded-up house. The boards hadn't been much worse than my house, but it was too much work for my Dad to maintain them to keep the Infected out, so it quickly fell into ruin.

Once I was sure no one was coming for me, I had taken it upon myself to begin clearing the nearby houses, which met fewer assailants on my own every night. Clearing them out never lasted long; there would always be at least two or three the next morning, but two or three in each house was undoubtedly better than ten in each house like when I had first started. It also meant less damage to my house, and I could thusly save myself from performing unnecessary maintenance.

Without a sound, I entered through where a door used to be. As I had gradually grown accustomed to this and many other houses, I knew exactly where to step to avoid the countless creaky boards.  The only problem was upstairs, as just about every step creaked or groaned. Fortunately, Infected tended to favor the basement for reasons unknown to me and I saved ascending the stairs for last.

And that was exactly what I did: entered the basement first. As usual, there was one taking the place of the last one I killed on the disgusting, blood-soaked couch which rested against one wall. After a glance around, I noticed two more, each huddled in a corner against the walls. There was nothing abnormal.

I walked over to the one on the couch, knocked an arrow, and sent it right through the head. His ragged, animalistic panting ceased almost instantly and, with a grunt, I pulled the arrow out, cleaning it of blood and brain by wiping it on the tattered shirt of the infected man. I repeated with the two in the corners. Then, it was time for the worst and most time-consuming part: clearing the bodies.

Beginning with one of the ones in the corners, the only woman of the group, I began dragging her out of the basement, her head repeatedly whacking against the stairs until we were on a flat surface. Instead of dragging her out the front door, I dragged her through the back door wall and threw her into the shallow pit which housed roughly two dozen of those like her.

If I hadn't known the house so well, it would have been easiest to find my way back to the basement by the thick trail of brownish blood she had left behind. Or by following the trail that had been stained into the wood from the many former-humans which had suffered the same fate.

Then I repeated for the last two before checking the rest of the house just to make sure. I probably should have checked the entire house before dragging them out, but I knew from experience they were pretty heavy sleepers. Especially the longer they had been infected.

As usual, they had only been in the basement. 

The rest of the houses were almost exactly the same. The most Infected I encountered at a single time was six, none of which woke up. All of them were in the same area, usually the basement except for the two houses that didn't have basements.

By the time I made it home, I had begun to realize something: I had grown efficient at killing Infected, creatures that almost perfectly resembled humans. It had taken me less than five hours to clear a dozen houses. When I had begun, it had taken me all day, which meant I had to alternate between exterminating and repairs.

If anyone were left, what would they think? Humans are stupid after all. Would they think my killing them is wrong? They always think but they never know. What was I supposed to do? Let their numbers grow until they can eventually break through my barriers in a single night? Let them kill me? Say "oh, it's okay because someone will find a cure"? Yeah, right. No matter what people think, I will live. And I will kill every one of them if need be.