Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Nine: The First Prince ~1 John

~John~

            I was blown away.

            Hitting my head on a slab of concrete, my head buzzed with pain. There was weight upon me. It was Bridge; he found the leather case containing the antidote—named C-961. He was unconscious on my side, and my own pain made me crazy.

            I tried to rise on my feet; massive smoke made my eyes tear, and I hear muffled screams.

            A tall man wearing a long white lab cloak was amidst the bomb crater that was as big a hotdog stall. He was weaponless; and I hear Mr. Riggins struggle.

            “It’s a trap!” he yells. The smoke subsides, and I almost gasped.

            There were three evil-looking men wearing identical long lab gowns. The other two next to the first one had long, jet-black bayonets. All of them wore shades, and that added to the evillish impression. Judging their face lines, I reckon they’re more than thirty years old.

            Bridge gained consciousness. He groans.

            “Get…Sophie…the cure…” he said, then his eyes closed.

            I was sure the three evil men didn’t see me, but I heard their guns being cocked to firing mode. There were my classmates everywhere—strewn around because of the explosion. I can’t carry everyone alone in about the ten seconds of my quick escape, but at least I was assured they were still alive.

            “Get out of here now, whoever you are!” yelled one man behind the smog. His voice was scary and deranged, and I can tell he was a bit angry.

            A terrorist’s terror voice.

            My feet felt so limp and weak; I hung the Scythe on my belt, and its glow weakened. I skip-walked, and reached a behind of a house. I check myself—no wound so far, but potential sprain, there is. My lung breathed with difficulty, like all of the oxygen in this place got combusted for fire.

            Will I die here?

            A gunshot was fired on the morning air, and was followed by a chuckle.

            Thirty-eight of us now, with two other grown-ups, were making us forty in all. More lives are much harder to maintain. I hope no one got shot, but I hear footsteps coming closer. To my right, I hear distant murmurs of some kind of creatures. The Mutated ones.

            I see Sophie lying motionless on one corner with a girl I recognized as Anee. Her straightjacket was drenched with blood and grime, and I crept to them, the smoke concealing my movements.

            I held the case tightly on my hand. It was branded in gold with the characters C-961, and felt rough to my touch. Once I was seated with Sophie, I managed to get upright and I opened the case.

            Inside, I found an empty syringe with a mark of the biohazards. Laid on a material as soft as Styrofoam, the syringe wasn’t the only thing inside. There were two other slim corked bottles, with the size smaller than of my index finger. There was a chemical inside of them,

            I opened the one labeled CLEANSER, and there was a small seal inside the case. I pulled it off, and a handful of cotton popped out. I pulled it all out, and dabbed seven drops of the first bottle. I’m not that stupid, so I wiped Sophie’s infected wound first. She twitched in surprise, but just snored.

            The voices are nearer; I threw the dirty cotton somewhere on my back, and got to the second bottle with a label CONCOCTION. It was stingy to the eyes, and I was squinting as I poked the needle into the rubber lid of the bottle. Bridge was right—the dose was one syringe, and the bottle has three available doses. With shaking hands, I inject the antidote into Sophie.

            She didn’t react, much to my relief. I was about to close the case when a pack of syringe needles fell from the seal where I got the cotton. Yes, I need to change needles for injections. Sophie’s face was terrible—green veins and sinews fill her face, and blood incessantly dripped from her mouth, like she was regularly biting her tongue.

            She groaned inhumanely.

            Her eyes flew open, and her leg suddenly swatted Anee away from her side. Her eyes were so red, and her irises were redder than anything I saw. Anee got her senses, and she pressed her hand on her bleeding head.

            Sophie was baring her teeth at me. Her straightjacket was restraining her from moving her upper self, but she attempted to bite me.

            Attempted to bite me.

            It irritated my ears, but I got more when she wailed, and somebody nudged me from behind.

            I was ready to elbow, but it was James. We backed away from Sophie, and she was chewing on her restrains. It got loose, and eventually, she freed her left arm.

            “What did you do to her?” whispered James.

            I shrugged. “I-I-I used the antidote on her,” I reply.

            “Then why is she looking much scarier?”

            “I don’t know,” I said hopelessly.

            My classmate finally freed herself. She kept on trashing, and leaped to attack me.