1The_Trooper1

The first bomb hit on June 5^th. I can’t remember what year it was. I’ve lost track of how many days it’s been. I don’t know what month it is, what day it is, where I am, or how much longer I can last. I just know it was June 5^th. It was all over the news, “Washington bombed. A possible chemical or biological attack was made against the American city of Washington today. Unconfirmed death count. More on this story as it unfolds.” The “story” unfolded a bit too quickly for there to be much more news coverage. As the U.S. government scrambled to send in aid to its crippled capital, and to try and find out who had launched the bomb, three more bombs hit. One in Tokyo, one in Ottawa, and one in Berlin. Shortly after these attacks the Middle East and Africa were hit. I can’t remember the names of the cities that were hit, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. The initial news reporters were right in their assumptions… they were, in fact, biological attacks. About a week after the bombs hit, with the international community trying to help its civilians and trying to figure out who was attacking who, the survivors of the attacked cities began attacking… strange. It began with the shut down of communication between people, and then moved on to increased food consumption. As rescue workers continued to sort through the wreckage of the explosions, the survivors began attacking them. The survivors never killed any of the rescue workers; rather they just bit and scratched at them. Rescue efforts were eventually terminated, as it became too dangerous for people to enter the cities. The surviving populations of the attacked cities were quarantined as the UN began calling the shots. But the quarantines didn’t hold. After the survivors had cleared the cities of consumables, they just left. They left their homes and just began walking. Any confrontations with the “hordes” were met with violence. More scratches and bites, never any killings. It was around the time that the survivors began to leave their cities that the rescue workers that were bitten began to act strangely. They too ceased to talk to or acknowledge anyone, and began eating everything they could get their hands on. Things just snowballed from there. The news reports, before the television networks were taken off the air, began saying that the bombs had contained parasitic spores that had gotten into the bloodstreams of the surviving populations. The parasites had then taken control of the hosts brain and nervous system, causing the host to consume at an increased rate, to feed the parasite. The parasites eventually began to breed inside their hosts, and the “offspring” of the parasites floated through the host’s blood and in their saliva. The host would then be forced to bite non-infected, potential hosts to spread the parasite population.

After the TV and radio stations had fallen silent we began to realize what was happening. It was just like the movies. We had zombies. The hordes began to get increasingly violent, and were known to chase people down and infect them. Soon, the “zombies” began killing and eating people, as the parasites, we assume, couldn’t handle the processed food anymore. When humans weren’t readily available, the “zombies” began eating animals. Cats, dogs, chickens, cows, whatever they came across. It wasn’t long before there were more of them than of us, and the remaining humans began hiding. I don’t know if it’s like this in other countries, but if it wasn’t, wouldn’t they send help? I’m assuming that the whole world is like this. I haven’t seen a human being, infected or clean, in days. It’s just been me. Me, and this dark, soul-less lake on which I sit. I managed to get away from the infected by casting out into this lake with my canoe. I’ve been sitting in what I assume is the middle for a few days now.

I’m going to take stock of today’s inventory:

-One canoe paddle.

-9mm.

-17 bullets.

-Seven apples.

-Three bottles of water, 500ml.

-Swiss Army Knife

-Knapsack

-Journal

That’s about it for now. I’ll write again tomorrow, or when something happens.

-Chris

He closed the small blue book and tucked it carefully into the front pouch of the knapsack, which he carefully set under the front seat of the canoe. “Just another day in paradise,” He muttered. His stomach growled, and he glanced at the knapsack. Inside was the bag of apples. He wanted one more than he’d wanted anything else before, but he pulled his eyes away from the knapsack. “The longer you keep those apples, the longer you can stay out here, away from the infection.” He said this out loud, startling himself somewhat. His words shattered the dull silence around him, and his voice sounded foreign to his ears. He hadn’t had the need to speak in days, as he had been alone in the canoe.

            He kept his eyes off the knapsack. Scanning the horizon, he thought he could make out a shape looming in front of the canoe. He squinted. It was a tree. A tall, green leafed tree that seemed to sore above the horizon. It stood alone on the shore, surrounded only by grass.

            He was intrigued by it, but he couldn’t understand why. It was still a ways away from his position, and there was about 100 feet of water between the tree and the canoe. Reaching down to the floor of the canoe, Chris grabbed the paddle that lay there. The paddle plunged into the water noiselessly, and the canoe lurched forward. He still wasn’t sure why, but the tree seemed to draw him in, like it was calling for him. He paddled quickly through the silent waters, moving ever closer to his goal. As the canoe hit the soft shore, Chris became aware of what he had done. His eyes widened, but he did not push the canoe back into the water. Instead, he reached for the knapsack and opened the largest pouch. He pulled the 9mm pistol from the bottom, and checked the magazine. 13 rounds he counted. He slid the magazine back into the gun and pulled back the slide. Slowly, he rose and placed his right foot down on the grass. He stopped, and listened. There was nothing, however. He lifted his left foot out of the canoe and set it down a little ways in front of his right. “Ok… you’re out of the canoe. Why. Why are you doing this?” He whispered to himself.