Red Winter (2 page)

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Safety?

There! On the TV! Finally the authorities give me something of substance.
I almost missed it, having gone to the restroom for a moment, but I was able to quickly spot the change in the screen and with some difficulty, grab the remote and turn up the volume.
The report went something like this (I'm obviously paraphrasing, don't remember it exactly):
"...no exact reasoning for this phenomena, although it seemed to be brought on by the flu.
"We repeat for all those still alive out there. If you are in a safe place, remain there. Barricade the doors and arm yourself with whatever means available. The authorities will arrive shortly. Do not, repeat, DO NOT approach anyone on the street unless they can give a verbal confirmation of being of sound mind.
"Safe zones are currently being organized by the United States Military, but it is not advised to attempt to travel. The army will be conducting organized sweeps of major cities to rescue any survivors. If you are, however, close to one of the safe zones marked on this map, attempt to devise a signal and help will come.
"We ask that you do not panic. If any of your party is bitten or contracts flu-like symptoms, they should be quarantined immediately. If a person begins to turn, they should be put down quickly with a blow to the brain."
I tuned out the rest, it was very obvious that it was quickly contrived and given by someone with little experience addressing people. Of course, me giving the gist of it didn't help. The map was most important to me, showing that the nearest safe zone was miles away, some base outside the city. Well, guess that means I'm stuck here.
I'm already beginning to run low on food. Sooner or later, I'll have to leave my apartment to search for some. Not sure how I'll be able to do it, but hey, maybe the army will have its act together and I'll be able to get out before I run out.

Friday, December 14, 2012

Venturing Out

I left my apartment today for the first time since Ben's death.
I guess you could say it went well. Or, well as in I'm not dead, and didn't get bitten. I did run into one of them, but I'll get to that.
I used up my last can of food this morning, some canned cherries that were more meant for a pie and not terribly appetizing without being baked in one, but at least they were somewhat filling. Luckily the water and electricity is still working for the moment.
It took a while for me to get up the courage to leave my apartment. That all started with looking for some kind of weapon. I finally decided that the best I could do was an aluminum baseball bat I had from playing in high school. Not quite sure why I've kept it for so long, but I wasn't about to complain.
The next hour or so was me standing by my thick wooden door, splitting the time between my ear pressed against it and my eye looking through the peep hole, hearing and seeing nothing. I probably would have been able to go sooner, except I had made the mistake of looking out my window to the outside world.
Yes, I finally gained enough courage to look outside and what I saw scared me shitless. The streets were covered with people aimlessly walking around, or well, shuffling I guess. They made no noise, at least none that was discernible from the ninth floor, but they were there. I backed away from the window slowly, shutting the blinds and turning away.
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 for 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.