Red Winter Read online

  When I finally found the strength to leave my apartment, I did so slowly. It seemed to take hours to turn each deadbolt, but in reality, it only took seconds. Each one emitted a deafening click as it slid away from the wall. I stared at the knob for a moment before finally reaching out and turning it slowly. The door creaked as it opened and I cringed, hoping no one heard it.

  There I was, the door finally open, holding the bat in my hand loosely and staring into the empty hallway, a bare, cold concrete monstrosity that was made to conserve money. I inhaled deeply to keep myself calm and leaned out, looking both ways. Nothing.

  I ventured out into the hall and shivered, remembering that the hallways were never temperature controlled. Hot as hell in the summer and (sometimes) freezing cold in the winter. I almost returned to grab a jacket, but refusing, knowing that if I returned to the safety of my apartment, I might not have to get up the courage to leave again.

  It was slow moving down the hall, the only noise being the sound of my shoes against the floor and my heavy breathing. I came to the first door and tried it. Locked. I knocked twice, waited, and moved on when there was no answer.

  This went on for a few more doors before I came upon one that was partially opened. I approached it and then stopped, staring down at what could only be smeared blood on the floor right inside. My heart was pounding as I eased the door open slowly.

  For the first time, I noticed the noise, that grotesque sound of something feeding, gorging itself. I wasn't able to put an image to the noise until the door was fully open and I had a view of the sunlit apartment.

  The smeared blood drew a path from the door to a large rug in the middle of the apartment, where one of my neighbors, another 20-something who I had only seen in passing, was being fed on by an infected. His stomach had been ripped open and the thing had buried its face into his organs, chomping greedily. The worst part, however, was his eyes, staring right at me with a glassy look, as though he was still alive and could see me.

  I gagged and turned away slightly, overcome with sickness. The noise alerted the infected, who stopped and turned toward me, her face smeared with blood. She hissed at me and I froze, overcome with panic.

  She moved faster than I would have expected and I barely got my hands on her in time to hold her off. She was stronger than I expected and her teeth snapped mere inches from my neck.

  We struggled briefly, but I was finally able to knock her against the door, causing her to release her grip on me. In the excitement, I had dropped my bat and now searched frantically for it as she regained her feet.

  I finally found it and wrapped my hands around it, bringing it up into a batter's stance as she charged again. I swung as hard as I could and connected, feeling her skull crack as vibrations shot up my arm, numbing it briefly. She collapsed at my feet, bleeding out her nose and ears as I stepped back.

  Just to be safe, I delivered another blow and another and another until I couldn't do it anymore. I backed away, dropping the bat and turning as I fell to my knees and vomited.

  Once I regained myself, I quickly exited the apartment, pushing the body inside and closing the door, making a mental note to not return to it. From there, I decided to return to a locked one, where I beat at the deadbolt with my bat until it finally came loose, allowing me entry.

  There wasn't much in the way of food, but it should last me a week at least.

  I don't want to run into another one of those things, but I fear I won't be able to make it without a run to the corner market or something. Maybe I'll get lucky and get rescued.

  Right now, all I can do is wait.

  Sunday, December 23, 2012

  At the Bottom

  It's been a while since I've been able to post. I've been busy since my last post, and food is starting to run low. Not that I care that much, there's only so much you can do with canned food.

  But the reason for the lull is the power finally went down. My apartment is usually pretty well insulated from noise, but there was a big enough bang that I could hear it even through the thick walls. Not sure if the two are related. Hell, maybe the army is starting to firebomb the bastards.

  It took a while for me to leave my apartment again after the food run. It was just that...well, killing that girl disturbed me. I know she would have infected me, but I've never killed someone before. I mean, I can't even remember the last time I was in a fight. Middle school, maybe?

  It makes me wonder about people who try to blame video games for violence. I've played video games for my entire life, and uber-violent ones since my parents would allow it, but killing a person, even an infected person, is a completely different thing. I keep seeing her in my dreams, her blood covered mouth, her tangled hair, her ear-piercing cries.

  But that fight is in a different time, a different world. None of that matters now, only survival.

  Once I finally got up the courage to leave again, I explored the building pretty thoroughly. I only ran into a couple of infected, but instead of fighting, I locked them in their rooms. They seem to have trouble with doors.

  For the most part, the building is deserted. I'm not sure if everyone evacuated or was just somewhere else, or what, but a lot was left behind. Unfortunately, most of the food was spoiled when the power went out, but I was able to salvage a little bit. More importantly, I found a 3G wireless card that worked and a gas generator in the garage beneath the building and a few cans of gas, enough to power my computer and run a space heater when the weather turns, which it has lately.

  The only problem is, the noise attracts them.

  I've been keeping it on the balcony to keep the exhaust out of my apartment, but just over the noise of the motor, I can hear the collective moan of the horde standing beneath me, shuffling around aimlessly as they search for their next meal. During the day, I sit and watch them beneath me, massed together like a lynch mob that has cornered their victim and is only biding their time to take him to the gallows.

  I can only hope that they don't figure out a way into the building. There's no way I can fight that many off.

  I have never been much on religion, but I have taken up praying, hoping against all else that someone is out there reading this, that there are other survivors clinging to the hope of rescue like I am, that the army is still active, still doing their best to control the situation, and that they haven't given up on finding those left uninfected.

  If you are somehow reading this, know you are not alone.

  Tuesday, December 25, 2012

  Oh Holy Night

  It seems fitting that I'd be spending Christmas alone. The past few years, I've found myself spending less and less time with my family. My parents divorced when I was in college and I took my mom's side, alienating myself from my father. I eventually forgave him, but any time we are together, it's very awkward, such to the point where Christmas and Father's Day are the only times we see each other. My mother married a new guy and I absolutely despise him. Last time we were together, the arguing escalated until I broke his nose.

  And yet, on this day, what would normally be a joyous day, I'm stuck here, feeding myself off canned food and a hot plate plugged into a gas generator. I would give anything to see someone: my cheating father, my pushover mother, even my asshole stepfather and his spoiled kids.

  I treated myself to a little extra tonight, even though it's a waste of gas. I hooked up some Christmas lights, giving my apartment the first artificial light other than my computer screen since the power went out. It really is beautiful, the flashing colors against the dark backdrop of the dead city. I even played some Christmas music on my computer to lighten the mood and drown out the cries of the infected.

  Maybe this night will help me, maybe this glimpse of civilization, though brief, can get me through. It gives me hope, and however artificial, it is still hope.

  Right now, that is all I have left.

  Merry Christmas, everyone. Maybe for just tonight, the survivors can forget their struggles and remember fo
r just a moment what is was like to live in a normal world.

  Saturday, December 29, 2012

  Survivors

  I got an e-mail today. The first in months, hell, even the spam had stopped. I never thought I'd miss junk mail from porno sites and Nigerian princes, but I did.

  There is no describing the feeling I got when the pop up notification appeared. My heart leapt, my stomach turned, and my mind raced. I clicked on it, and there, just a simple message from a woman named Jenny:

  Chase,

  The three of us found your blog a short time ago. We don't have much internet access outside of a blackberry we found, but your blog gives us hope. It lets us know that there is still someone else out there, someone trying to survive just like us. Keep writing as long as you can, it's making a difference.

  Jenny

  I was speechless, unable to move for a while. I can't believe I'm making a difference. Maybe there's a reason I'm still able to get a signal, still able to get the word out...

  Good feelings are shortlived, however. I'm running low on gasoline. I took a trip down to storage this morning, but the apartment is all out. I've shut it down for now, but my battery is already running low. The real question is whether it would be worth it to risk going to a gas station. Of course, even if I could get there, with no electricity, I'd never be able to work the pumps. Perhaps a gas truck?

  I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

  Tuesday, January 1, 2013

  New Start...

  The battery operated digital clock is counting down the moments, the end of another year. But this time, there are no parties, no dancing, no kissing, no champagne, no one to share it with.

  As I type this, there are just a few minutes of 2012 left. It was hardly a month ago that life was normal, that I was just a normal guy working a steady job. This...disease was nothing but a seasonal flu scare, nothing more than anything you hear about any other year.

  But now I'm here, freezing in my small apartment, typing on a laptop powered by a dying gas generator and only able to see by the light of candles stolen from another apartment. But there's still hope, and therefore, still a chance. I've made it this long.

  What's your resolution? Mine is to stop waiting for this thing to blow over, because it won't. I need to make something happen, because waiting for help will not get the job done. It may be too late, but at least I'll have tried.

  It's midnight, 2013 is here.

  Here's hoping it's better than the last.

  Sunday, January 6, 2013

  Once Bitten...

  I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, as if it is threatening to crack the very ribs that contain it. My lungs expand and contract, taking in air and squeezing it back out. Slow and deliberate.

  It eases the pain somewhat with each exhale, but each time I inhale, the pain heightens, leaving me dizzy, my consciousness threatening to leave me. The wound on my side is deep, torn from the love handle I could never quite get rid of. It's just fat, just a flesh wound, except mixed in with the blood is the poison from one of those...things.

  I remove the towel I've been holding to the wound. It's grown heavy with blood, and drips onto the carpet. Oh well, it's not like the deposit on this place matters much anymore.

  I've cleaned the bite and applied pressure, but something in the saliva is preventing it from clotting, preventing any sort of healing. It's turning a strange color, and I'm starting to feel hot.

  I guess I shouldn't be on here. I need...I need to find something to stop this. There has to be something around here, maybe some kind of anti-viral medicine or something...

  Countdown to the End

  I finally managed to stop the bleeding, and some Vicodin from one of my neighbors has eased the pain, but definitely not eliminated it.

  This is my doing, my own fault. I got too bold, thought I was smart, thought I could protect myself. I was wrong.

  The generator ran out of fuel yesterday, which is what started this whole mess. The blog wasn't important, but I somehow convinced myself that it was. Besides, who wants to be without electricity. It was something I could hold onto, that reminded me of a normal life.

  I loaded myself up. Long-sleeve shirts, jeans, worker's gloves. Anything that could protect me from them. I grabbed my bat and a backpack with a gas can inside and departed the safety of my apartment.

  My plan was flawless. There's a fire escape on the side of my building, one that runs along the side and stops on the second story. Adjacent to the building is a gas station, a new Shell that was built last year and parked right along side the pumps was a large gas truck. A quick jump across a narrow alley and I'm on the roof, easily able to get into the store via a convenient trap door on the roof.

  I had it all scouted out and perfectly planned. All I had to do was execute.

  The first part went off without a hitch. Or well, sort of. It was easy enough to get onto the fire escape and move down, but it sure as hell made a lot of noise. And noise is a sure way to attract our hungry friends. By the time I was down on the third story, the alley below was packed.

  It's one thing to look at them from several stories up. It's another thing to be right above a crowd of them. They moved around as if in a mosh pit at a concert, fighting against each other, raising their arms to the sky and staring through with their empty eyes, knowing only one thing: hunger.

  I sat there, watching, mesmerized by the chaotic mass. They stared and I stared back.

  Finally, I stood and looked across the alley at the gas station roof, sitting slightly higher than the second floor of the apartment. I climbed to the railing, crouching and hanging onto the ladder beside me to keep my balance. I primed myself and leaped, flying above their reaching arms, grasping at air.

  The landing was awkward, thanks to a misjudgment on my part. I attempted to tuck, but was too late and instead turned my ankle, feeling pain shoot up as I rolled over, finally coming to a stop with a painful collision with a vent.

  I don't think I was knocked out, but I was definitely dazed, and when I snapped out of it, my hair was matted down with still-wet blood. I stood up, but doubled back over with pain. My ankle throbbed, not broken, but definitely sprained. It took some time before I was able to walk again, but I won't bore you with the details of that.

  I was extra cautious as I slid open the trap door that led down into the back area of the gas station. I shone the light from my flashlight down into the area, scanning thoroughly to make sure there were no unwanted guests. Satisfied that it was empty, I gingerly made my way down the ladder.

  It wasn't until I made my way into the store that I realized what I should have before I got down there: the gas was outside...with them. I collapsed down against a shelf of candy, staring out through the glass windows at the mass of people moving through the streets, aimlessly searching for food.

  I must have stared at the display case for ten minutes before it hit me. I struggled to my feet and hobbled over to the formerly refrigerated cases still filled with various drinks. I pulled open the glass door and removed a twelve pack of Budweiser bottles (I figured if I was going to waste beer, it may as well be crappy beer) and brought it to the front of the store.

  One by one, I popped the cap off each bottle and poured the now-stale beer on the floor. I then pulled a bottle of lighter fluid and began filling each bottle with it. Once that was finished, I used some rags from the office as fuses and grabbed a couple of lighters from the counter.

  A quick glance out the front showed me that the sun was sinking, meaning that time was short. I didn't want to be caught after dark. The lighters were all filled with fluid, but I still held my breath as I flicked it, my hand shaking. It took a few tries, but I finally got it, lighting the first one.

  The door was unlocked (pure luck, would have figured that I would set myself on fire because the damn door was locked), and I heaved the first one out to the street. It smashed against the cement and shattered, spraying the flammable liquid ev
erywhere and setting off a blaze, catching many of the creatures on fire.

  Before the first had landed, I was already lighting the next one. My luck was holding out, none of the ones not on fire had noticed me yet and I tossed the second one out toward another large group.

  The cover seemed sufficient and I decided to take the chance. I grabbed another one without lighting it along with two gas cans and sprinted out, holding my hand up to ward off the heat from the flames. I blocked out their screams of pain, not wanting to feel any empathy toward the mindless creatures.

  I passed the pumps and reached the truck. I pulled the hose from the hole in the ground that led to the tank and prayed that the truck hadn't been emptied. I held it over one of the canisters, not knowing how well it would work and turned toward the valves on the side. I reached out with my hand and turned it and felt my heart leap as I felt the liquid pouring through.