Infection

Sometimes you don't realize you're infected.

Until you start to die. That is. Until the fever consumes you and you start hallucinating, seeing things that couldn't possibly be real. Like the family down the street, who burned to dust during The First Wave, though that was their crazy father's plan. Or that childhood puppy you know has been in dog heaven for at least ten years.

Or your own family. You know they're gone, but the dehydration-induced haze makes it all so...fuzzy. Distant.

All you do is look at the moldy ceiling and wonder how the hell the entire world fell apart so damn fast.

Because it was only a month, ago that I was here, in this same town having the most normal day anyone could.

Or maybe. Maybe none of this has even happened. I don't know anymore. I don't know. And frankly, there's no way for me to be sure. Either way, everyone is dead. Because of me.

After all, I designed the virus that killed them.