Outbreak of the End

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

The year was 2020, and something had gone terribly wrong. It wasn't just the outbreak of a virus—the entire planet felt off. A shift in the solar system had thrown the Earth out of its natural alignment. Days that were once sun-filled in Puerto Rico were now plagued with sudden, violent changes in climate. Blizzards followed by oppressive heat waves. Snow, in a place where it had never fallen, became as much of a threat as the virus that was spreading across the globe.

The outbreak began slowly, creeping into the world's consciousness. At first, it was small clusters of infected individuals, people turning without explanation. The CDC arrived, claiming they were here to help, to give us a vaccine that would protect us. They told us it was the only way to stop the infection from spreading. But even as I stood in line, waiting for my turn, something about it all felt wrong.

I was 16 years old, standing with my girlfriend "Mia"she was 17 years old, I was holding her hand as we shuffled forward in the seemingly endless line. Everyone's faces were pale, their eyes darting nervously as they waited. The CDC workers moved like robots, handing out the injections without emotion.

Finally, it was my turn. I swallowed the lump in my throat as the needle pierced my skin. The liquid burned slightly as it entered my bloodstream, but I shrugged it off. The feeling that followed, though—something deep inside me—it was wrong. I could feel something strange brewing in my body, but I couldn't place it.

And then all hell broke loose.

A scream tore through the crowd. My head whipped around just in time to see a man lunge at one of the CDC workers, his teeth sinking into her neck. Blood sprayed in every direction, and the worker collapsed, her eyes wide in horror. The crowd exploded in panic. People started running, shoving, trampling each other in the rush to escape. But the infection was spreading too fast. More people were turning, their movements twitchy and unnatural. I grabbed my girlfriend's hand, but the surge of people pushed us apart. I lost her in the chaos.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I searched for her, but I couldn't find her. I stumbled through the madness, my mind racing. The exit was blocked, people screaming as infected rushed toward them. Desperate, I turned and ran, my feet carrying me up the stairs to the second floor of the school.

From the rooftop, I looked out over the city, and it was like watching the world end. Cars were burning, smoke rising into the sky. People were running in every direction, their screams echoing through the streets. The infection had spread like wildfire, and Puerto Rico was being consumed by it.

I knew I had to get to my brother Lucas a 6 year old. His school was close by, just a five-minute run from my high school. He was all I had left now, and I wasn't going to let him face this nightmare alone. With a deep breath, I jumped from the roof. Pain shot through my ankle as I hit the ground, but I pushed through it. There was no time for pain. I had to move.

As I sprinted toward my brother's school, the air began to feel different. It was colder—unnaturally cold. I slowed down for a moment and held out my hand. Snowflakes. Actual snowflakes, falling from the sky. I stood there, stunned. Snow in Puerto Rico? It didn't make sense. But there was no time to dwell on it. I shook off the shock and kept running, knowing I had to reach my brother before it was too late.

When I reached the elementary school, chaos was already spreading there too. Parents were screaming for their children, teachers were frantically trying to keep order. I rushed inside, pushing through the panicked crowd until I reached my brother's classroom. His teacher stood in front of the door, trying to block my way.

"You can't just take him," she said, her voice trembling. "We're following protocol."

"I don't care about protocol," I snapped, pulling the gun from the holster I had taken off a fallen police officer. I pointed it at her, my hand shaking. "He's my brother. I'm taking him."

Her face went pale, and after a moment, she stepped aside, letting me into the classroom. My brother looked up at me, tears in his eyes, and I could see how scared he was. I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door.

But just as we were about to leave, I heard a cough. I turned and saw a little boy, no older than six, hacking violently. His skin was pale, his eyes glassy. The infection had reached him.

I couldn't let it spread. I had to make a choice. With my brother in tow, I slammed the door behind us, locking it from the outside. The teacher's protests echoed in my ears, but I ignored them. They were already lost. There was no saving them now.