by Kypers, Ryan
Chapter 1
She’d been bit. The start of the problem was mere weeks ago and my girlfriend of three weeks and two days was primed and ready to begin her flesh eating career.
Some psycho freak bit her, but the worst part was that she knew exactly what she was doing when she contaminated Chelsea. Right on the shoulder, in almost an affectionate way. It was something that could have been hot in some strange porn straight out of Japan. Unfortunately for millions of horny pinched eyed teenagers, Chelsea was near guaranteed dead.
The crazy psycho bitch snuck into my backyard and took a chunk out of my girl. Needless to say, my full aluminum thirty-two ounce Rawlings baseball bat connected with her skull to create the second ‘shot heard ‘round the world.’ The bitch’s head splattered, her weakened cells exploding at the force of my swing, dying the silvery aluminum fifty shades of crimson blood.
I would say that her remaining body fell, but it didn’t. It dropped, or flopped, whichever gives the better image. The bitch was no longer any part of the living or the dead, and the remaining human race was better for it. Any person who became purposely contaminated do not deserve to walk amongst people.
It’s not as if it mattered anymore. Chelsea was just the next person on the killing block, and she knew it.
The plague had already taken any of her family living within five hundred miles of Peckon Fields of North ‘Jersey, and there had been no contact with anyone on the Pacific coast since the initial contamination took place over three weeks ago.
I was all that she had left, her boyfriend of three weeks and two days. Yet, she was all that I had too.
My whole family had safely made it to secure centers, but I was still in what was considered a contaminated zone. My mother and two younger brothers were in school when the contamination happened. Since schools and hospitals were the first to get to secure centers, they were fine. My father was able to directly leave the architectural job he was working on and, after numerous times of telling him that I would be okay, he was able to reach a secure center as well.
It was at this point that I was left with my grandmother and Chelsea at my home, as the governor had warned all people to wait in their locked homes until military help arrived. It finally did, a week after the announcement. Chelsea and I elected to stay behind in order to let others have their chance at leaving the town. Besides, we had not seen any of the contaminated since the announcement, and we had the entire house to ourselves. The military truck that arrived also said two weeks ago that it would be back in three days for those that remained. They lied.
And Chelsea stood in front of me, her dirty blonde hair blowing in the light fall breeze. Her bright and innocent twenty year young eyes gazed from fear into my own, a desperate tear struggling down her cheek.
Her slender arms wrapped around my neck in full embrace. I slid my arms around her gentle waist in response, my fingers brushing against the curves of her body. As we hugged, I realized that it was probably the last time that we would be together. I also became suspiciously aware of her now contaminated mouth buried in the crease of my neck, and its position in relation to my jugular.
Alas, for Chelsea’s last moments, I held myself together, managing not to flinch at the thought of her ripping out the flesh surrounding my neck with her teeth pulling away muscle and tendon gushing with warm and sticky blood. I was glad that she kept the biting to the bedroom.
It was consoling, at the moment, when the hug ended and she took a step back from where I stood. I could not tell if she knew what I had to do. Her small hands lowered to her sides, sliding the thumbs into her pockets.
She finally looked up to me, “So, what now, Daryl?”
I stared into her eyes. She was damn cute, especially when sad. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I knew where this had to go. “I think we know what has to happen,” I barely choked out.
Her face flinched. She was holding back a complete breakdown. Chelsea’s normally bright pink lips had turned a darker shade of pale blue. Whether it was part of the transformation or her fear of the upcoming event, I don’t know. “Chels,” I started but couldn’t finish.
I had slain a few of the contaminated before, and only a few of the partially contaminated, such as the crazy bitch who bit my girlfriend. Killing these things had been nothing new to me since the contamination had started, and after it had gotten worse about a week ago. I tallied three contaminated and two crazy bitches killed by my hands, all to protect a dying person standing before me. Killing the contaminated and threatening was one thing, but killing a person who drew the shit straw at the end of someone’s cruel joke was another. The bitch knew that she was contaminated. The bitch knew that she was carrying a deadly infecting disease. The bitch was trying to spread it for her cruel game.
I clutched the Rawlings bat as tightly as my numb hands would allow. I knew what I had to do, and it was right in front of me. Killing Chelsea with a baseball bat seemed inhumane, though these were inhumane times.
There had been no word from the government since the military convoy had left my small town. Communication had been cut in order to save energy and keep strict contact intact for military personnel and emergency police. I hadn’t heard from any of my family in weeks. The last thing that the military convoy told us was to defend ourselves with any means necessary. We tried, and were successful for a period of time, but now was not that time.
“Daryl, I don’t-“
“I know,” I replied. “You don’t want to die, but-“
“No, it isn’t that, well yeah that is part of it, but,” she let out a long breath, “but I don’t want to become one of them, the freaks.” I had never seen more fear in her eyes than when she said freaks. That’s what they were, freaks. The mindless murdering machines that marched without an end or care. They kept going without hesitation in order to achieve their goal: to feed.
When the convoy came, they told us about what caused the contamination, though they were not sure of the entire details themselves. It was an extremely resistant parasite virus. It was not one or the other, but an actual parasite virus. It lived as an actual creature, but infected its host as a virus would. They lived off of moisture, but not any moisture. The one thing that they needed was blood, enough blood to operate the main functions of the spinal nervous system, or the brain. The reason that the parasite virus was so successful was because it duplicated off of the oxygen in the blood of humans. It fed off of blood, and was able to duplicate itself endless times in order to gain full control of the body. Once in control of the nervous system, it could do whatever it wanted with the body. Due to the need of moisture, it is hypothesized that the parasite virus spread from a water supply.
This is how the contaminated body moved when under extreme duress. If you shot off an arm, the parasites in the body were still alive to move the rest of the body as if it was unharmed. The parasite virus did not feel the pain of the body, but instead it felt the lack of blood being given to it. Under normal conditions, just this was not enough to give an actual scare to any government. The problem would normally be quarantined while a cure for the disease was found. But this was nothing close to normal conditions.
Once in control, the parasite virus released a toxin into the bloodstream. This toxin created a huge amount of testosterone and other chemicals, giving the body extreme strength and abilities not normally found in a human. Given the situation of knowing who was and was not contaminated proved an interesting dilemma when a family awoke to screams of a loved one tearing into the chest of another, and not how you are thinking.
Overall, this kind of shit su
cked big time. Unfortunately, that was not the worst of it. This faction of people emerged once the contamination broke out. I don’t’ know what else to call them, but I jokingly named them the CRU, or Contaminated ‘R’ Us. Okay, it’s not proper grammar, but people are barely alive, I think they’ll forgive me.
The CRU would go around and give everyone nervous fits. They started off as a small group of strange nerdy people, but many eventually grew into their own organized faction with a good number of members. The CRU encompassed people from all types, religious, nerdy, stupid, and more! The CRU is the single reason that the military could not stop the contamination from spreading around the world.
They are devious people, and quite frankly, assholes. The CRU would purposely get infected, believing that they were contributing to a higher purpose or betterment of people. Once infected, they would roam around the military quarantines and essentially suicide bomb military personnel by making attempts at contaminating them. They used different tools to contaminate them: bloody knives, blood bombs, syringes, it was nuts. There were also those who would sneak past the military guarded areas, aka the safe zones, through an unguarded wood or sewer pipes just to get into the uninfected areas. Once inside they would try to contaminate whoever was within reach and move to the next person in line.
This was Chelsea’s fate as of now. Someone had broken through the military guard, assuming there still was one, and contaminated Chelsea. She now had the parasite virus flowing through her veins. The only positive was that it could not be contaminated through saliva. This is why the CRU was also referred to as the ‘Red Mouth.’ They would cut apart the insides of their mouth with a blade so that they were bleeding from the gums. This allowed them to break the skin of their target quite easily and transfer some of their blood, as if they were the opposite of a vampire.
“What if,” she began before catching her voice. Chelsea wanted to live, and I couldn’t blame her for it. Being bitten by a random person was such a shitty way to death’s door. What was worse was that I would have to smash her face in with a baseball bat in order to do it, not a very pleasant or painless way to go.
I looked down on her. I didn’t want to beat her face in with a baseball bat. Besides, it felt like I was murdering an innocent girl, not something that I am morally okay with. “Maybe you aren’t contaminated,” I began, and then looked to her shoulder where she was bit. Blood had begun to crust over the wound. It was not a deep break of the skin, but it was too risky to allow. “I have some rubbing alcohol under the sink-“
“Don’t be stupid, Daryl,” I could hear the shakiness in her voice now. “If all it took was rubbing alcohol, then I don’t think this would be a national crisis.”
“We can still try!” I do not know why I did not give up. It was a hopeless situation and I thought I knew it from the bottom of my stomach. My cowardice was showing through, lest it was foolish hope, but that was all that we had in such a situation.
“We promised each other,” Chelsea said. “We promised-“
“That in the given situation-“
“We would put-“
“The other-“
“Down,” she finished. “The military convoy warned us of the dangers of leaving a contaminated alive, especially when our town hasn’t been hit very hard. For all that we know, I’m the only current person contaminated!”
I shook my head, “If you were, then we wouldn’t be in what is considered a contaminated zone! They would isolate you and we would be a secure community once again.”
“But that isn’t happening, Daryl!” she exclaimed. “This isn’t a story book or a video game where you can just wish away the dangers. They are here!” She pointed at her chest. “They are here and waiting to kill you too!”
“I’d rather take my chances with the rubbing alcohol,” I said defiantly.
“That’s not fair!” She yelled at me.
I wanted no more of it. “Fine,” I held out the bat. “I’m not going to murder you, but you sure as hell can try your hardest to do yourself in with this bat.”
She scowled at me, her face dark. Still cute. She smacked away my hand, brushing the bat to the side and giving me another hug. “For now, then, we can try the alcohol,” She said in quiet defeat. “But on the first sign-“
“I’ll smack a hoe,” I replied. I could not help but smile at her now calm voice. I rubbed her back a little as we hugged and kissed once, twice, three times, four, “We should go inside,” I said. “Just be sure not to bleed on me.”
Her scowl returned.
“And I may have to tie you up, for safety, of course.”
Chapter 2
It became an interesting night, to say the least. Chelsea and I created a contraption out of pots and pans that, if she was to wake in a contaminated state while I was sleeping, would be sure that I not sleep forever.
We also decided on loosely tying her hand to the bed for two reasons. This way, if she was to turn overnight, then her movements would be very restricted. It was also somewhat kinky, her idea, I swear. Safe sex everyone.
Neither of us knew a considerable amount about the parasite virus, a common trend throughout the world. This meant that we had no idea when she would turn, or what signs Chelsea’s body would give to hint at the changes. I’d seen the contaminated before: bright yellow eyes, pale skin, red mouths, murderous, but I have never seen the change occur in front of me. In other words, I had no freaking clue what was going on and was taking precautions deemed necessary.
Fortunately for the health of my blood, Chelsea slept like a baby. She had been fighting off some disease over the last week. There were semi constant streams of coughing fits and the occasional vomiting, yet she had the appetite of a whale. Oh gosh, I hope she isn’t pregnant. How would that look? Maury and the contaminated: who’s the father? No thanks. I hope it’s a cold.
Either way, she took the last of the Nyquil to the face and was out in mere minutes. Once she was k/o’ed, I set up the pots and pans and whatever would hopefully make enough noise to rouse me from my slumber should she wake with fits of hunger for brains.
I tended to her wound from earlier today. I dipped a piece of cotton swab into the rubbing alcohol and rubbed it all over the bite wound. We did it before, shortly after Chelsea had been bitten, but I figured I better keep the wound from becoming infected by anything else either way. I also replaced the old wrappings with fresh new ones from the first aid kit. They covered her entire shoulder and were held together very tightly. Those wrappings were the last that I had in the house.
Even though Chelsea had dozed into a deep sleep, it was still early in the night, and I wasn’t yet tired. The only good thing about our situation was that we remained in a powered zone. This meant that we were in an area hooked up to one of the few power plants still running. These plants were heavily guarded by the military, somewhat excessively so. I don’t care who you are, or what stories you have heard in the past, no mindless creature with a bit of an extra bite can get through a tank, not counting the other nine alongside it. I had always wondered how the military establishments had been taken down in movies and games and such by walking fools. Hollywood.
Thought broadcasting television consisted of a standard warning loop featuring the president of the United States telling people to stay in their homes or to get to a secure area and wait out the crisis, the internet was still working, but it wasn’t the same. Formerly flowing forums and online hangouts were empty and the lack of website traffic was making advertisement companies crying their money away, assuming they were still around to use said money. Gone were the days of overpopulated creeper forums and role players worldwide, replaced by the lonely searching of adorable kitten videos and “Best of Whose Line” montages.
Though the bareness of the internet was astounding to see, there were still those who were able to remain active. After long hours of googling various combinations of “the end of the world forums,” I finally stumbled upon quite possibly the last activ
e forum: The Last Uncontaminated Forum. I know, points for originality to the name, emphasis on the literal. It hosted an overwhelming number of members, eight to be exact, two of which were Chelsea and myself.
They all confirmed to be located in sections similar to my own, powered zones, but contaminated. Such zones spanned all over the United States, but never out in the far west. The farthest we knew was still alive was from ZmB1EbtR, who lived on a hill just outside Denver, Colorado. He was able to tell us that he was living with ample supplies since his mother loved to stock up on canned goods, and that we should meet up if ever possible. If only it was that easy to travel nearly two thousand miles…
Other members lived north to south, Buffalo, St. Petersburg, Miami, Northern Maine, and Indianapolis. While we played with the idea for mere entertainment, the thought of us coming together and living as a small forum society piped our interests. Everyone had already agreed that if this crisis was ever to be resolved, that we would meet in Kansas. Why Kansas? Well, quite honestly, I don’t know, but it was what we agreed on. I guess the thought of us ever being able to meet each other was enough of a fairy tale to keep us going.
RRWRDRAGN99: You’re up late
DR. YLSRUS3390: Yeah, no. Eight isn’t my bedtime.
RRRDRAGN99: Well the contmin8td don’t care bout bdtme.
DR. YLSRUS3390: C’mon, we can still type, can’t we? There’s no reason for your shorthand.
DR. YLSRUS3390: lest a contaminated took off your hand.
DR. YLSRUS3390: that is the only exception.
RRDRAGN99: oh please. I haven’t seen anyone roaming in St. Pete in over a week, other than bums.
RRDRAGN99: besides, how am I supposed to tell a hobo from the contaminated?
DR. YLSRUS3390: poke it with a bottle of whiskey.
RRDRAGN99: I’m not giving up my whiskey!