Random Writing

Short Fiction - Claritin

Another piece for my creative writing class; this time a short story. I like this one, and I'm hoping to expand on this concept more in the future. Enjoy :)

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Claritin

"Oliver!" A voice entered the medical building as the front doors were flung open. "Oliver, where are you? I need'a talk to you."

The man in question glanced up from the paper he was writing on, pushing himself to his feet just as another man burst into his small office. "Charlie? What are you running in here like that for? Are you hurt?" Oliver looked the other male up and down, trying to assess him for any signs of injury- a simple scratch could prove to be fatal nowadays. "You weren't bit were yo-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Charlie was slamming his hands down on the wooden desk between them, the noise causing Oliver to flinch. "No, I wasn't bit! I figured it out. I think I finally figured it out."

A beat passed as Oliver blankly stared at his friend. He was used to Charlie being, well, a mess, but even this was a bit much. "... Figured out what?" He asked as he moved around his desk, still concerned that Charlie was hurt; maybe he hit his head or something because he sure as hell was acting like he did.

"HOW TO END THE APOCALYPSE!" Charlie shouted as he grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, shaking him. "I have an idea, and I need you to help me!"

When people think of zombie movies, the first thing that comes to mind is groups banding together, fighting against the apocalypse and being total badasses. However, these films fail to consider that there is any other option aside from putting yourself at risk every day. It's quite funny to see what people thought doomsday would be like in comparison to its reality. None of them ever touched on a world disaster decades into the future; somehow, the world was either blown up or saved within just a few months. How unrealistic.

Unfortunately, that was not how the real apocalypse was going. The population numbers had significantly dwindled, and it seemed that people had given up on finding a cure for the most part, instead deciding to embrace the dystopian lifestyle. After all, the start of the apocalypse was nearly thirty years ago; it made sense that people would give up after that long. Sure, there were still zombie fighting heroes, but new jobs had arisen- farmers were crucial, and so were town guards. However, Charlie was not a farmer, nor was he a town guard; he was an apocalypse historian.

Now, what could possibly lead someone to becoming a zombie historian of the Old World? Simple, finding a copy of The Walking Dead comics under the remnants of an old comic book store. Comic books and, really, any fun media at all had been practically forgotten; all of that publishing had ceased the second doomsday began. The only books left were ones that were just laying around. It wasn't completely rare to find a comic, but they were still scarce enough that the discovery of that comic was quite exciting. It was a completely random chance that Charlie had found it- and he was damn lucky that he did- but from the second he opened to the first page, he was hooked. The difference between fiction and reality was fascinating- the way the apocalypse had started wasn't from some nuclear fallout or even some government testing. Rather, the real apocalypse was still a mystery, even after all this time. Charlie had decided to dedicate his life to indulging in the variety of media that depicted the end of the world; he could tell you every character in every movie along with a complete analysis of their personality and development over time. To him, these fictional characters were hope. They got out of their dire situations, and Charlie hoped that he, too, could find a way out of this hell.

"Don't start with that again, Charlie. What could we possibly do?" In contrast to Charlie's hope, Oliver had just about given up on finding a cure to the virus that had plagued the world. He used to have that same spark, but it had long since faded.