Alright so I started a bit of a story a while ago and I expanded on it a little. I got the first chapter done and think I'll post it. If you read it the first time then you'll see a lot of changes I made. I'll still probably be making a lot of changes as I go and adding and taking out things. But here is the first draft and I'll add to it by chapter. Hope to have the next chapter up in a week or so. Anyways please tell me what you think and anything you can think of to make it better! Input is always welcome. And I want criticism, good or bad!
Recounting The Last Days
A manmade apocalypse
Where to start? I guess I should start with why I am writing this. A while ago I began a story (my first story) based on characters from one of my favorite works. I got four chapters into it before my computer crashed and I lost all of it. Since then I thought about rewriting what I had but decided it would be best if I made my own characters and put them in my own world. Of course that world would be our own, but I would put my own flavor to it. It wouldn’t be a comedy, but it would be humorous. It wouldn’t be a horror, but it would be frightful. It wouldn’t be serious, but it would have a core plot that challenges current issues. What would it be? Well all I knew is it would be as entertaining as I could make it. My last story happened to take place in present day and in the near future. This story will take us to the near future as well, and hopefully to one that’s a little more perfected. It probably won’t read like anything else you’ve ever set your eyes to. So please, go on and give this a shot. I’ll do my best to entertain you.
I’ve been alive now for 62 days.
Most of it seems like a blur, just wandering in search of food, struggling to survive. My name is Zane. The date is August 22nd. The year is 2036.
Two years ago a widespread virus swept throughout the world. It started in some small country in South America. People would develop a cough, then start shaking, and then finally their skin would start to deteriorate. I saw pictures of it on the news.
Eventually it started spreading. It covered all of South America. Finally reaching up through Central America and into North America. Within a year and a half Europe, Asia, and Africa were infected. They didn’t know how to stop it. Scientists worked around the clock looking for a cure.
By the time they thought they had a fix the entire world was infected. Thirty five percent of our population was dead. The hospitals were all quarantined. Every city had their own stations for administering the cure and people rushed to them. It didn’t reverse effects of the virus, but it was supposed to prevent people from catching it.
The people that were given the cure did not catch the virus. They caught something else.
The virus was no longer a threat.
It took a while though. Everyone thought it was ok. The cure was a success.
It wasn’t until three months later that things started to change yet again. Everyone who received the cure started to transform. They began to appear sick. Their skin color changed to a light green. They had trouble making complete sentences. Their diets are what changed most though…
A month after their first symptoms, the world was in a panicked state. People were urged to get supplies and stay in their homes. To board up their windows and stay put until told differently.
The cure, you see, did not just affect those who received it. It spread so fast. The cured people started to hunger for flesh. Turned into cannibals. It was horrifying. I cannot get the images out of my head. Of seeing my neighbors attack each other. Seeing them turn.
I guess I should tell you about my family. My wife Rosalin. My two daughters, Sarah and Kate. Sarah was twelve and Kate only seven. We lived in a big city and I didn’t think it was safe. I packed them suitcases full of clothes and supplies and sent them to her parents house in the country. It was a long drive, about two hundred miles. But it was the only place I felt they were safe.
I stayed behind to keep our house safe. They were gone for forty five minutes.I was sitting in the living room and staring blankly at the wall, just hoping they would make it there safely when my cell phone rang. I jumped from the unexpected intrusion.
* * *
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Flipping open the screen I saw her name. Figured she was just scared and wanted to talk to me to make her feel safe.
“Hey honey,” I said into the phone.
“Zane…” came her voice. Whispering between her sobs.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Zane. They’re all around us. We’re trapped inside the car.”
“Trapped?” I was getting worried. The room getting very warm.
“We ran into a group of them. They’re everywhere. We can’t go any farther. They’re, they’re clawing at the windows”
“Lock the doors,” I told her. “Don’t let them in.”
I heard glass shattering from the other side of the phone.
“What was that?!” I shouted.
“They broke the window at Sarah’s door!” She screamed.
“Rosalin! Get out of there!”
Screaming. All I could hear was screaming and shouting. Then, nothing.
That’s all I kept yelling into the phone, tears leaving my eyes.
* * *
It took me an hour to let go of that phone. I never heard from my wife or daughters again. Oh how I miss them.
When I was eight years old Santa got me a Golden Retriever. A lot of people called him Dog but I preferred Oliver.
We played together everyday. He was smart, energetic, and never bit anyone. Oliver was my best friend for three short years. When I was eleven I had a bad case of the flu. My mom kept me home from school and made me stay in bed. My room was on the front side of the house and faced the road. I was too ill to take Oliver out so mom just let him out the front door for a while so he could play alone.
I sat up in my bed and watched him through my window, wishing I was able to go out and play with him. He saw something across the street. What it was I don’t know. All I know is he could run fast, but apparently not fast enough. I saw the truck. Poor Oliver didn’t. I shrieked as loud as my eleven year old voice could but it was helpless. I watched as a truck ran over my best friend. The driver never stopped and I still don’t know who it was. I never got to say goodbye to Oliver. Up until that point it was the saddest day in my life.
It’s funny how priorities change. Mine changed. When I watched my family drive away from me. When I heard their screams and listened to them die while I sat there and could do nothing. That became the saddest day of my life. Oliver was the last thing on my mind.
Now I am alone in my survival. I was lucky enough to find a small sailboat in the harbor. At night I go to it and sail out in the water and drop anchor for the night. Night is the most dangerous time now. In fact it’s almost that time now. I should start heading there.
With a heave I grab my duffel bag off the ground and sling it over my back.
I look down at my shotgun leaning on the fence.
“Time to get moving.” I grab it and head toward the harbor.
Every now and then I come across other people who seem to have not been cured. Just like me. Of course I take no chances. I am still alone.
Ahh there it is. The harbor. I see the tall mast of my home.
Walking across the dock it feels too empty here. I can see no one else. Just the sun setting over the water.
I hop across the gap onto Bright Side II.
I laughed the first time I read the name. Now I scowl. It’s a Ketch. I saw it my first trip here to the harbor and it seemed to be perfect for me.
I push off from the dock and head out. The cured can’t swim. It’s safe here.
Once I reach the middle of the harbor I drop the anchor and head into the cabin, shutting and locking the steel door behind me. I know I said they can’t swim so a steel door seems pointless. But it isn’t. There is something else here I have to worry about. The military. I’ll get into that later.
I drop my gun and duffel bag onto the table. Opening my duffel bag I empty its contents. Shotgun shells, a knife, canned foods, and a children’s book. I like to read and these children’s books add a little happiness around here.
I haven’t done much with the place. The kitchen cabinets are full of canned goods and candles. There’s a television mounted in the corner. I barely turn it on because it’s full of those videos of the government offering hope. The bunk beds are littered with guns, ammo, and knives. The tiny bathroom is full of medical kits.
I grab one of the cans off the table and read the label.
“Lasagna sounds good I guess,” I say aloud.
I start up the propane grill and open the can with my knife.
“Glad this never gets old…”
I set the can on the grill and walk over to one of the covered portholes. I slide the steel plate aside and peer out towards the city.
“Seems like another smooth night ahead.”
I walk over to the grill and turn it off. I pull a fork out of my pocket and dig in to the lasagna. I hadn’t eaten since morning and I had been searching the city all day. It takes a lot out of you.
I finish and wash my fork, stick it back in my pocket. I throw the can into the garbage. Taking my shotgun I crawl into the booth at the kitchen table, facing the door, and slowly, slowly, drift asleep.
Nightmares ensue. I miss you Rosalin.
That's it for now. I'll be adding more detail and hopefully making it more fun to read. I hope you liked what's here so far and please give me criticism!
EDIT: How come my indentions aren't indenting?