The Infected

I breathed heavily from the folds of my mask, the last thing the guards had given me. It wouldn't provide much protection but worked for now. The infection had spread like wildfire, and I was the only survivor. Being in jail has its perks, once in a while. But when I saw how the infection took over my guards, I knew that it was time to act. Any surface in the jail cell could be contaminated, and I needed to get out of there. There was an air vent which I loosened and after some time, I got it open.

Strangely, a piece of paper fell out of the vent as I opened it. I read the paper which said 'WE NEED YOUR HELP. CURE FOR INFECTION IN HOSPITAL. DELIVER TO THE MOUNTAINSIDE HIDEOUT. -THE CONTROL AGENCY'

Who, or what was this 'control agency'? And why did they want me to get the cure? Why couldn't they do it? I didn't even know that there was a cure to this madness. Shaking my head, I tore up the paper. It was a prank from a while ago, most likely. I leapt up and grabbed onto my escape route. All those pull-ups were worth it and I managed to clamber into the vent.

I crawled along until the vent opened up onto the side of the building. Instead of jumping down onto the road, I gripped the wall and climbed up onto the roof.

A light breeze swept my way and I stared out at what used to be a pulsating city, a home now was a ghost town with zombie-like creatures roaming around at night.

Where was I to go now? Out of the city? I couldn't go back home, especially after what I had done. And my family was probably infected by now.

I looked over at the horizon, wondering what lay there. I had never been beyond the city, so would this be the time that I would finally see what lay past our borders?

A building blocked my view of the setting sun. I looked down at it and saw that it was the hospital. Of course, it was.

The place where the infection started. The place where I made my biggest mistake. The place where I got arrested.

The place where the note was telling me to go.

I sighed and jumped off the roof, landing on the pavement with cat-like grace. I walked towards the entrance, the weight of what I had done heavily on my shoulders. I tried to forget about it in jail, and blame other people, but now I knew that I had to face what I had done. It was my fault, and my fault only.

As night fell, I slipped into the hospital. Those creatures would come out at night, and I didn't want to be around to meet them. They may not be brain-eating zombies, but they were terrifying, all the same.

The hospital was deserted, the beds lay in a mess, sheets in disarray and pillows flung about. I wandered around, careful not to touch anything as it could be contaminated.

I heard groans coming from the ER and veered around it. After taking a whole circuit of the hospital and not finding anything useful, I was back at the entrance.

I bit my lip and began pacing. What was I to do now? Where could I go?

Something fell onto my shoulder, bouncing off immediately. I looked up–it must have been a small chunk of the plaster that had fallen.

And that was when I knew what to do.

I hurried back to the police station, praying that the monsters wouldn't get me.

I made it a few steps before I saw the first of the Infected appearing from across the block.

He slouched towards me, almost like a real zombie. As he came closer, I recognised him. Mr Bartleby, my third-grade teacher. He used to be super fun (mind you, not funny, just fun) and would joke most of the time, always with a ready smile. But now his face was expressionless.