Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Bold sunlight crashes through the frayed curtains of your bedroom window.
The window pane paint, peeling from the summer sun, and winter frosts. You turn. Greeted by that familiar sound. You turn off your alarm, before it disturbs Calaii, who’s sleeping peacefully, on the other side. You blink, blinded by the suns soft rays. Cautiously, you creep out of bed. Avoiding the creaking wooden slabs as you do so.
...Eight
Nine
Ten...
As you reach the last step, you let out a soft sigh.
With a faint laugh, you proceed into the kitchen.
The morning sun, battering through the shutters.
As you open the minuet sleeve, dust dances off in the light. Curving its way around you through the small burst of air due the movement of the shutters.
The fridge, grey, and old, stands tall in between the oven and the dishwasher. Your place wasn’t big, but it was enough.
Gently, you fumble through the cupboards, searching for the frying pans and bowls.
Mushrooms.
Sausages.
Tomatoes.
Beans.
Bacon.
And eggs.
“Perfect.” You mumbled, with a smile, as you cracked the delicate eggs into a pan.
Turning up the stove, you heat up a following pan, containing the sausages, and bacon.
Twenty minutes later, you plate up the classical meal. Steam, levitating off the food, and filling the house with a pleasant aroma. You place the plate into a tray, and make your fiancé’s morning cup of coffee. “Can’t function without it..” You chuckle, still half asleep from your early start.
Picking everything up, you clamber up the staircase, and into your bedroom.
Calaii, sitting upright in bed, smiles as you enter. You smile back, placing the tray onto the bedside table.
“Good morning, baby.” You say, soothingly. Your throat still rough. “Morning, love.” She laughs, and reaches up to your heard. You sit down beside her. She runs her soft fingers through your knotted hair, before laying a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you, for the food.” She smiles once more before turning to the plate. “You’re too kind, you know?” You laugh. “Maybe.”
“You didn’t forget the coffee this time!” She said, shocked. You roll your eyes, “Yeah yeah, don’t keep bringing that up.” You reply, jokingly.
Nothing could ruin this moment.
Being with the one you love.
Under the morning sunrise.
The definition, of bliss.
After returning the remains from Calaii’s breakfast, you return to bed, and find the remote for the TV. You sit, fingers crossed.
The screen flashed on.
Channel One.
“Viewers discretion is advised.” The news anchor stated. Determination in his voice.
The scene laid before you was, intense. Videos and images of civilians stumbling, and running around. Faces painted with marks, and mouths dripping with crimson red, blood. Many appeared to have had mutilations, just as stated yesterday in the news reports.
The videos cut out, and the screen flashed to a interview with a man, who’s working alongside the government. As well as internal scientists and investigators.
“All we can stay about these, beings. Is they’re exhibiting unearthly, and incredibly dangerous acts. My colleagues have compared it to the actions of ‘zombies’ in movies and video games. However, unlike those myths, we do not have the knowledge through people that they did. We have absolutely no idea exactly why this is happening, or how. But please, do not be alarmed. Top end scientists are working every hour, day in, day out, to figure out exactly, what has happened to these poor people.”
You immediately turn the TV off.
Sweat drips off of your body, like you’re in a sauna. Your head, running once again, with questions, without explanations.
“S-Shit...” You murmur.
Calaii sits cross legged, panicking just the same.
You reach for your cellphone.
“I-I’m gonna call some people... hang on.” You stammer. Gripping the phone, you punch in the number for your daughter, Ashley. Without missing a beat, she picks up. “It’s about the pandemic... I need you to get here as quickly and as safely as you can, do you understand?” You bite your thumb, afraid of her answer. As she agrees, you jump out of bed, and stumble down to the basement.
There, you find your old uniform from the Royal Marines.
You sigh heavily. Your sigh is broken by your fears. Your head begins to spiral as you glare at the suit, on it’s plain mannequin. Memories flood in from your past, but you stop them. “I need to protect them...” you assert through gritted teeth.
Ripping the uniform off the stand, you cloth yourself, put on your chest rig, helmet and boots, and head upstairs.
As you reach the bedroom, Calaii is sitting with a phone in her hand, and a slip of paper beside her. “I called them all.” She smiles through tsunamis of tears.
Your heart sinks.
Gently, you comfort her.
Until, she falls back to sleep...
