First Steps | A Zombie Apocalypse Story (Completed)

Day 11

Jerry

I'm not sure about how much longer the man, who I know now as Winson, will last. He was bitten, and we removed his arm with the saw in the truck we stole, but he's lost a lot of blood since then. We made it to Virginia, although we had to walk in the countryside to avoid DC like the plague. I can only imagine how chaotic it is there. It's such a well-populated area that I'm positive that it is overrun. So, so, so many people work there, unarmed and not in clothing that's good to fight in. If the President made it out of there, he is probably safe in his bunker, chowing down on caviar and truffles in his underground jacuzzi. The car got us the hell out of Dodge, but other troubles still lurked in every corner. If the car hadn't had run out of gas, we'd be at Montpelier already.

I hear a loud thud, resulting in me turning around. Winson collapsed, most likely unconscious. I run over to him, elevating his head with my bag.

"Hey, brother, stay with me," I say urgently, hovering over him as I slap him in the face. I put my head to his chest, not detecting a heartbeat. "Come on, man." I begin to indulge in chest compressions, huffing as I begin to get tired.

"Stay with me, brother."

Day 8.

"We've gotta remove his arm," I say calmly, looking at the lady beside me. "If that infection spreads, he's done for." Her eyes are wide, looking at me in disbelief. I pull into a parking lot of a small gas station. I make my way to the bed of the truck, the lady joining me.

"Okay, uh-"

"Amelia."

"Amelia, steady his arm and give him something to bite into. I pull off my button-up shirt, tying the sleeve of it above the wound tightly. She scrambles through the toolbox before coming across a dirty hand towel. "That'll work." She nods, putting the rag in his mouth.

"Okay, brother. Amelia is gonna hold you down. Try not to scream too much." His eyes widen in fear, a frown obvious on his face. He whimpers as the saw grows near him. "Ready?" All she manages to do is nod. "Okay, here goes nothing." I take a deep breath before pressing the saw against his clammy skin. I close my eyes as I saw his arm off. His screams shake me, far worse than what the other guy sounded like. Tears begin to run down my cheeks as I continue to saw through.

"We're almost done, man. Hang in there," I shout, opening my eyes. Blood is everywhere, pooling into the truck bed. Blood gushes out of his wound. I ball up the rest of my shirt, pressing it against the wound with as much pressure I could. I can't imagine what these people would do if they had been bitten without me there to help. They don't know what I know. They don't know that once you're bitten, your done for unless you can prevent the live version of the virus from spreading. We all have a dormant version of the virus already, but it doesn't really activate until you are bitten.

I only know this information because when these cases first started showing up a couple of months ago, mainly in drug houses, we were told to keep quiet about it. Being myself, that didn't sit nicely, so I hacked into some files and found out more information about the virus. Only headshots work, everyone has the virus, there is no cure, the government has been failing to contain the virus for months, etc. Oh, it is also a global pandemic now.

My dress-shirt bleeds through at a steadfast pace. Tears stained both our faces. His face is red with heat. His eyes flutter closed, going into a heavy sleep. My hand continues to press against his stump firmly.

"Here, you continue to put pressure on his wound. I gotta get something, or this thing will get infected." Amelia nods, her hands transferring to the wound. My red-stained fingers rummage through the toolbox in search of a hunting knife. Surely the dude who drove this rig had to have something like it. Fortunately, I find a hunting knife with a camo green handle on it. I take it and swing the AR over my shoulder and make my way into the store of the gas station. I enter the gas station to find it void of anything living, or dead for that matter.