OTHERS (Formerly The Scarlet Effect)

1 - R E A L I T Y / C H E C K

As the ransacked city fades behind me, wind rushes my sunburned face as I race through new surroundings. The buildings have transformed into trees, the sidewalks into dead yellow grass, and the black pavement into dusty grey gravel. High in the sky, the sun beats down on my back as I run, causing sweat to soak my jeans and cotton T-shirt. It's been miles since I've walked—even slowed down—and there's still no end in sight.

"Get away from me!" I scream at the man on my tail, my raw vocal cords grinding against each other. What do I call him? Infected? I hadn't whittled down a label yet. Neither had society.

All I know is that I need to get as far away as possible; physical contact is enough for the virus to spread. One poke, one prod, a single nudge, swipe, bump, skin-to-skin and it's game over.

I blink and focus on my staggered breathing. In, out, I tell myself. Just a little further.

Peering over my shoulder, I check if the man has slowed down—his speed has doubled. Dark, hollow eyes are locked on me as a starving lion would its prey. As much as I wish to deny it, I know it's only a matter of time before he catches up and claims me as his prize.

Push on, Aurora. Endure and survive.

Up ahead, I spot a busted water tower drowning in ivy and a wooden shack beside it equally engulfed by invasive plant life. I can try to break inside, find a way to lock the man in, and escape out the back. That will get him off my trail. For now.

I hope.

Just as I spring into action with my new strategy, he shoves me down and I tumble onto the ground, the displacement of gravel loud in my ears as I skid to a stop. Dust flares up and into my lungs, and upon inhaling a breathful, the man pounces on top of me, crushing my stomach. Touching me.

Fuck!

I break into a coughing fit as I push my hands out to block him from me. "Ugh!" I grunt, and knee him in the abdomen with all my might. The blow distracts him momentarily, giving me just enough time to unsheathe my knife from my belt loop. I then start slashing away, striking nothing but air until—

The blade meets the man's olive skin and slices across his slimy forehead. His enlarged freckle-like pores ooze the clear, contagious liquid like a thick sweat. With a scrunched face, I watch as his blood and poison dribbles out and splats onto my clothing. My neck. My cheeks. I clench my teeth and press my lips tightly together to avoid any seepage into my mouth. The wound only seems to intensify his rage and his slippery fingers clutch onto my throat and crush inward like a constricting cobra.

"Get off me!" I gurgle as his nails burrow deeper.

Squirming beneath him, I lift my trembling hand equipped with my only defense, but he notices the knife this time before I can strike, and forces me to pause in mid air, using his forearm as a shield. With my opposite hand, I slam my fist into his side, hoping for the slightest release of pressure. Just enough for another breath. He winces from the blow and I gasp for oxygen. My brain tells me to go for the killshot, to end this man's life as he intends to end mine, but I hesitate.

Endure and survive, echoes in my mind as I wiggle out of his hold and jam my knife into his shoulder to get him off me. The blade pierces the fabric of his shirt and lodges straight into muscle. He yowls short and high-pitched like a kicked dog and clamps his hand over it. With his focus now geared to yanking out the knife, I stumble to my feet, circulate air through my lungs once again—half-shocked, half-relieved—and dash.

Freedom doesn't last. Clumsy, quick footsteps are at my heels once more. The man knocks into me and I collapse, face-first into the sharp rocks. "Please!" I beg, desperately trying to flip over. I squeeze my watering eyes shut and cringe into the road beneath me, preparing for the pain when an earsplitting BANG! explodes in the air.