Omega Virus (Book 1): Surviving the Horror

by Mendonca, D. Manuel

  “Well this is just shit,” She complains.

  “Sorry about your glasses,” I say closing my journal, my finger holding my place.

  “Its fine,” She sighs, her hands slowly rubbing her forehead.

  “I can put my journal away if you’d like to talk,” I say, trying to relieve some of her stress.

  “No, its fine,” She huffs again, “no need for you to suffer just because my eyes are bad.”

  I tuck my journal back into the front pouch of my bag and position myself so that I can look at Penelope better. I have no idea what I can talk to her about, we’ve spent the last couple of months together fighting for our lives, and it’s not like we can talk about the last movie we saw. But I don’t want her to be upset either, so I just shut down my mind and open my mouth, “So what were you planning on doing with your life before, well, before all this.” My goodness I’m stupid.

  Penelope looks at me dead in the eyes, almost like she is trying to figure out how I could ask such a stupid question. She pulls her eyes away for a moment, her normally pale cheeks become flush, a small grin forms on her lips as she slowly looks me in the eyes again, “Honestly? Ever since I was three years old I wanted to be a singer.”

  “Really!?” I ask with a slight chuckle.

  “Yeah, why is that so funny?” she asks, slapping me playfully for laughing at her.

  “I don’t think it’s funny,” I respond still chuckling, “actually I think it’s kind of cute. Were you any good?”

  The smile fades away from her face, as her eyes lower to the ground, “there was a time,” she begins slowly, “I sang in the shower, at church, in school, anywhere that would allow me to.” Her words stop short as she wipes away a stray tear from her eye socket.

  “What happened?” I asked softly.

  “I haven’t really talked to anyone about this before,” She says, a lump caught in her throat as she speaks.

  “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want,” I assure her.

  “No its fine,” she says, “I mean it was another life. A time before I had ever even pulled a trigger on a gun. A time when I went to sleep and didn’t have to worry that I either wouldn’t wake up, or would be woken up to some zombie trying to kill me,” she trails off. She turns her head to the side not wanting to see the tears welling up in her eyes. She rubs her eye sockets thoroughly with the palms of her hands.

  I place my hand softly on her shoulder, I don’t know what to say to her even though I’ve had the same thoughts in my head. “I’m sorry if I said anything that upset you.”

  “It wasn’t anything you said,” she replies turning her head back to me. It’s dark in the room, our only real source of light coming from the fireplace but I can see the redness surrounding her eyes, “I just feel like I’m cursed sometimes.”

  “I get that, honestly I do,” I say thinking of everything that had happened in my life.

  “It’s not just this whole apocalypse thing,” Penelope sighs, “it’s like I was saying, when I was younger I did everything I could to make my dream come true. I practiced and practiced until my sophomore year at high school. I can still remember that day like it just happened to me. I was so excited, I had gotten the solo in the winter concert. The music teacher even told me I had amazing talent. She was going to talk to her friend, who was a talent agent, into coming to the show to see me. I rushed home after school and found my mother sitting on the couch crying. My heart sank when she called for me to join her on the couch. Her voice alone told me it was bad news. My father worked for Meditrust, it was a company that created new medicines. He was away on business that week, as always, but this time something went wrong with the plane. The police had said it was a mechanical problem, something to do with the engine. They never found all of his body, the wreck was so massive. I lost my mother that day as well, not psychically but mentally. She just stayed on that couch muttering that dad was coming home soon. The company paid us well, but eventually the bills began to pile up. It wasn’t long before they shut off our lights and gas. I dropped out of school picking up as much work as I could, just so we could keep the house.”

  “Wow,” the only words I could mutter after hearing her story.

  “I know,” She says breathing heavily. Her chest rising and falling slowly as she tries to open her mouth to speak. “You know what, that actually felt pretty good. I’ve never told anyone that before.”

  “Well I’m glad I could be here to help you,” I say as I watch her run her fingers slowly through her hair.

  I can hear the wind chimes ringing softly outside. I turn my attention back to Penelope who also heard the wind chimes.

  “Maybe it was just the wind?” She says hopefully.

  “When are we ever that lucky?” I say getting back to my feet.

  Penelope stands up beside me, wiping away any stray tears that remain on her face. I cock my gun, I can hear Penelope doing the same as we look around the room. Connor and Kennedy are still passed out in their respected positions as we make our way through the room. I make my way over to the window, it’s eerie outside. Clouds cover the moon, leaving the outside blacker than I could ever remember.

  “Do you see anything?” Penelope whispers to me.

  “No. The street lights are shit and there is no moonlight,” I reply, “stay here and watch over Connor and Kennedy. I’m going to check out the rest of the house.”

  “Are you sure that’s safe?” she asks grabbing ahold of my arm, stopping me in their tracks.

  “No,” I answer honestly, “but it’s the best option we have. No point in waking them up early until we know what we have, but still I don’t think it’s wise to leave them alone.”

  “But what if something attacks you?” she asks panicked.

  I lift her hand off of my arm, cupping it firmly in my hands as I smile at her, “We can’t always be pessimistic. I can handle myself if the need arises.”

  “I know, I just…” he words trail off. Her eyes give her away as she searches for the words, “just promise me you’ll be safe.”

  “I promise,” I say as I release her hand from mine.

  I can feel her eyes following me as I leave the living room. The dining room is eerie, we had barricaded the window with the table and a hutch, leaving the dining room in complete darkness. I reach around in my left pocket, shuffling through the mild mess I keep in there until I feel the cold metal shaft of the flashlight I keep in my pocket. We don’t normally use them, not because of the zombies, they might as well be blind instead we try to avoid them because of marauders. The tiny light creates a path for me through the darkness. Drawers are removed from the cabinets, random items sit casually on the floor. We didn’t care originally when we found this place, we just rummaged through taking the few meager items we thought would be useful. I point the light at the swinging door that leads to the kitchen. It takes me a moment, I try to act brave when the others are involved but when I’m alone I turn into a coward. I finally build up the courage I need to kick open the swinging door and burst into the kitchen. I shine my light around the kitchen, which like the dining room is a mess with things tossed onto the floor, the refrigerator planted firmly in front of the window. I feel a cool breeze crawling across my back and I use the light to search for the source.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mumble as I stop the light on the back door. The door has been kicked in, a hole in the middle of the door lets the breeze in.

  I slowly back up, my back pressed against the wall. I lower the light beam stopping when I see a trail of blood. I slowly step away from the wall, my light focused on the blood trail, following it from the back door all the way to the pantry closet. I hold my breath as I make my way over to the pantry door. I notice blood on the brass door knob as well as a small pool of blood in front of it. I exhale slowly as I turn the knob. I can hear slight sounds behind the door as I throw it open and take a few steps backward. The beam of light shines brightly on a scared boy. He can’t be more than s
ixteen or seventeen, scratches and bite marks ravage his body as he sits huddled in the pantry scared. I lower my gun and drop to my knees.

  “Are you ok?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head no.

  “Do you want to come out from there? I have a friend in the next room that can help, fix up your wounds,” I say trying to coax the kid out of the pantry.

  “You can’t help me,” he says, his voice barely audible.

  I shake my head in agreement, “Your right, I can’t. But my friend, she went to medical school. She can patch you up and stop all that bleeding.”

  The kid lifts his head up, “are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I trust her with my life,” I reply, reaching out my hand.

  Slowly he responds, his hand trembles as he reaches for mine. It takes me a moment but I eventually get him back on to his feet.

  “What’s your name?” I ask him, as I help carry him out of the pantry.

  “Nathanial. But everyone calls me Nate,” he responds, his face wincing with every step he takes.

  “Nice to meet you Nate, my name’s Damian,” I say trying to take his mind off the pain.

  I manage to get him through the dining room, although there is some trouble evading all the objects on the floor. I get him back to the living room where we are greeted by Penelope pointing her gun at us.

  “We need to get Kennedy up,” I say, “NOW!”

  Penelope holsters her gun and runs for Kennedy, shaking her wildly. Kennedy and Connor both open their eyes and sit straight up.

  “What’s going on?” Kennedy asks confused.

  “We’ve got a live one,” I call out as I lay Nate down on the floor.

  “You let in a complete stranger?” Connor asks angrily.

  “No. I found him hiding in the kitchen,” I say walking over to him as Kennedy begins to check on Nate.

  “You know our rule about survivors. We don’t take anyone into our group that badly hurt,” Connor argues getting right up in my face.

  “Than what was I supposed to do? Kill him? Let him bleed to death?” I say in my deepest voice. I can feel my blood pressure rising as I argue with him.

  “Would his life be worth it if we find out he is infected? What if he is leading a group of marauders toward us right now?” Connor grabs my shirt, pulling me close to him.

  “Every life is worth it,” I growl at him as I force his hands off me, “I don’t know how you can have the balls to stand there and tell me I should have let him die when we have the means to help him.”

  “What if he is playing us? What if he tries to kill us?” Connor asks.

  “Then I’ll kill him myself,” I say softly to him, “but it won’t come to that.” I turn away from him and head over to Nate and Kennedy.

  “It had better not,” Connor’s voice travels across the room and into my head. I try to ignore him as I watch Kennedy slowly begin to patch up Nate’s wounds.

  “Is he going to be OK?” I ask.

  “From these wounds, yeah. They are just minor flesh wounds, there’s just a lot of them,” Kennedy answers, never looking up from working on Nate’s abrasions.

  “What about infection? Is he carrying the Omega Virus?” I ask.

  “There is no way of knowing,” Kennedy responds, “we are just going to have to wait and see what happens.”

  Chapter 3

  August 25th,

  2037

  It’s been over a week since I found Nate hiding in the pantry. Physically he seems to be responding well to Kennedy’s treatments. Kennedy has informed us that his wounds are healing nicely. Luckily for us he was strong enough to move on the day after we found him. Connor worried that his dried blood would give our location away to the zombies. I hate to admit it, but he was right. We didn’t make it as far as we were hoping, but we still made it to the other side of the city. Nate hasn’t spoken since he was found in the pantry. I can’t really blame him, his body showed multiple signs of being attacked and then hearing Connor call him a threat, it’s a lot to take in for someone his age. Or any age really. Hell, I can still remember not wanting to talk to anyone, or even want to be around anyone when my family died.

  Our new safe house looks almost like the last one, except there is no fireplace in the living room. There isn’t much in the way of furniture anywhere in this house, or food. We are leaving here in a few hours when the others wake up, which is a good thing because our provisions are running low. Kennedy and Nate are also up with me. Actually Nate has been up with me every night since I found him, Connor has made sure of that.

  Kennedy is looking over Nate’s wounds. She wants to make sure he is at his best when we leave later. Penelope is sprawled out on her stomach, half of her body is hidden under the couch. Connor is asleep beside her, his back against the wall, a book grasped firmly in his hands, his chin resting firmly on his chest.

  “How’s it going?” I ask walking over to Kennedy.

  “Excellent,” Kennedy replies, “Nate’s as healthy as any of us.”

  “That’s a plus,” I say smiling at Nate.

  Nate doesn’t say anything to either of us, he just puts his shirt back on and heads off to a secluded corner of the room where he usually goes. He has a few sheets of blank printer paper and a pencil that he found when we first arrived at this empty house. He might not be saying much, but he has really enjoyed drawing.

  “Any sign of infection yet?” I ask Kennedy in a whisper as I help her gather up her supplies.

  “Not yet,” She replies.

  “Connor still thinks he’s a threat to us,” I say looking back at Nate.

  “I know. He keeps asking me about him daily,” Kennedy admits slightly annoyed.

  “I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t leave him to die,” I say defensively.

  Kennedy looks at me, I can feel her eyes sizing me up “You did the right thing. This world is new to us, and we are all scared. It’s hard to trust anything when everything around us is trying to kill us. But you, you went beyond the fear and risked everything to save a life.”

  I couldn’t help by smile, “Thanks. But I wish Connor could see that too.”

  “He will, in time,” Kennedy reassured me, “remember, he’s just as scared as the rest of us.”

  I can’t think of anything to say. It’s hard to picture Connor as scared. He has never shown any kind of fear, not since he saved me anyway.

  The night is almost over, I can see the sun rising off in the distance. Kennedy has taken to reading one of her old medical books, while Nate has fallen asleep, his drawing resting on his lap. I can’t really make out what he has drawn from where I am sitting, but everything else I’ve seen him draw has been spectacular.

  “It looks like it is going to be a beautiful day,” Kennedy says looking up from her book.

  “Yes. A good day for us to find another safe house,” I reply putting my journal away.

  “We should start waking the others,” She says ignoring my cynicism.

  I nod in agreement, “I’ll wake up Penelope and Nate if you get Connor.”

  Kennedy turns her head, looking at Connor’s sleeping body, “fine.”

  None of us like waking Connor up. He always wakes angry, swinging violently. I rush over and wake Penelope up and urge her to join me over in the corner next to Nate. Penelope nudges Nate awake as I watch Kennedy poke Connor steadily. Connor’s body jerks, his closed eyes twitching as Kennedy shakes him by the shoulder. Connor’s eyes shoot open as both of his fists start swinging. Kennedy barely avoids both of his fist as she falls backward onto the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” Connor says, helping her back to her feet.

  “Its fine,” Kennedy says angrily as she dusts herself off.

  “You have really got to stop doing that,” I say from the corner.

  “I don’t mean it,” Connor says defensively, “I just don’t want to die in my sleep.”

  “You’re right, because zombies are going to wake you up before the start to munch on
you,” Penelope says sarcastically.

  Connor waves us off before walking over to his bag. He shuffles through the contents, pulling out a half empty bottle of water and a dented metal can, the label ripped off. Kennedy, Penelope, and I follow suit. I shuffle through my bag, there isn’t much left in my bag. I pull out two small bottles of water and hand one to Nate. I find a can of chicken and rice, and half a package of crackers. I hold both items in my hand, the last of my rations. I hand Nate the can of soup. He looks at me with wide eyes. I’ve been sharing my food with him all week.

  “I’m out of rations,” I admit sheepishly.

  “I have an extra can,” Kennedy offers, shaking a can at me, “it’s only spaghetti and meatballs, but it’s yours if you want it.”

  I hesitantly take the can from her, a half-smile on my face, “Thanks.” I catch her smiling at me as I as I eat the cold spaghetti.

  We finish our breakfast and pack up. Kennedy, Penelope, and Nate meet us out front as Connor and I take one last look around the house before lighting a single match and setting the house on fire. We meet up with the others outside where we watch the fire slowly start to engulf the entire house.

  “Do you guys do this a lot?” Nate’s soft voice asks.

  We all turn around and look at Nate, startled that he spoke.

  “Actually we do,” Connor answers rudely.

  “Why?” He asks.

  “Just seems like a good idea,” Connor responds mockingly.

  “We do it as a cleansing ritual,” Penelope says pushing Connor away.

  “Oh,” Nate says, still slightly confused.

  We start off down the street, the warmth of the fire can be felt on our backs the rest of the way down the road. The day continues on, by noon the sun starts to feel hotter on our bodies than the fire. There isn’t much around to protect us from the sun, most awnings around town have been torn down. There are blood stains and stray body parts randomly lying around the streets and sidewalks. The most disturbing sight comes when we come across a small park. The grass is long and unkempt, blood splattered along the top. I shudder as I think about what could be hidden inside the grass. The playground equipment is all destroyed, the swing set is rusted with both swings snapped in half. A blood trail marks the slide, a small child’s body lays in the wood chips, its head cracked open and scratch marks along the shoulders and arms.