Outbreak

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Marlowe

I'm concrete, frozen with fear at the sights around me. I look down at the ground around me. It's covered in bodies, dead bodies. One sheet is so sloppily wrapped that I can see the woman's upper body. There is a bite near where her shoulder meets her neck, and black lines have already begun spreading from it.

Once, before everything went black, they told us a little about the virus on the news.

They said it was a little like blood poisoning, if the red lines reach your heart, you're dead. But with the infection, it was too late if the angry, black lines reach your brain, your gone. Gone like your soul and everything that made you you, just gone.

The woman is pretty. She has fair skin, although unnaturally pale, and long blonde hair, spread around her like a halo on an angel. If it weren't for a bullet hole, no longer bleeding, just above her brow, she could have easily been asleep. I try to tell myself that they are all asleep.

Her arm hangs freely from the sheet. She holds a picture of a little boy, maybe seven, between her thumb and first finger. I try to pull it from her grip to look closer, but instead I rip the corner off. Even in death, she holds onto the one she loves so tightly.

I hear a gasp and turn to Avi. She has fallen on the ground, and one of the infected has her by the arm. Unlike the sleeping angel, this man is ugly. He could have been different before, but the black lines are spread all around his body. His eyes are a horrifying milky blue color. Blood is smeared across his face, and his fingernails are filthy. His stringy hair clings to his sore-covered face. Another is headed her way, this one's gender undistinguishable. There comes a point when the infected are covered in so many sores and black lines that they no longer look human. Yellow saliva drips from its foaming mouth as it stumbles her way.

I react quickly, kicking the first off her and pulling her up by her arm. He snarls and reaches toward me, but by then we have already taken off.

We charge through the long grass and into a cornfield. Stalks strike my face, stinging it. I still hold her hand in mine, giving it the occasional reassuring squeeze. I pant, out of breath. "I---I think--- I think we lost them. Are you okay?"

She nods, breathless. I let go of her hand and continue walking, this time taking care to push the stalks out of the way. I worry about her. Ever since the outbreak, her eyes have been dimmer, a little less blue than before. She never had an easy life, but as tear before she didn't have to only think about survival.

I turn to her, taking my eyes off of what's ahead for a moment. "You know, you can---."

I run smack into what feels like a brick wall, and jump back, thinking it to be one of them. A man towers above me. He has shaggy hair and a short, but dirty looking beard. He has deep, dark eyes, the color hard to see in the fading light. He holds a rifle in front of him, casually pointed diagonally at the ground. He studies us, then his brow furrows. "Now, what are two young ladies like you doing all the way out here?"