No More Anything

Chapter One: The Beginning

Blake hesitated, and replied with "J-just going to class, s-sir. But there was tape on t-the door and--"

"There is a 'stay-at-home' order in effect. You shouldn't be outside. Return to your home immediately," the officer growled. He seemed very frustrated at Blake, which made him very nervous. Blake had never handled confrontation well, especially when dealing with tall, scary men with weapons on them.

"Oh, y-yes sir. H-have a nice day," Blake said, his voice cracking out of fear. The officer said nothing as he continued to glare at Blake until he obeyed his command. Turning around slowly, Blake started walking back to his apartment, unsure of what was going on. With a slow pace, he crept down the sidewalk, observing his surroundings. It was eerily quiet outside; there were no cars driving around, and no people walking and talking like there usually were. Everyone must be obeying the "stay-at-home" order that I totally knew about, Blake thought. He rolled his eyes. Come to think of it, that police officer was the only person he saw on his way to and from class so far.

That thought didn't last very long, though. He had nearly returned to his apartment building when he noticed a person standing in the middle of the street. Not walking anywhere, not doing anything in particular. No, they were just standing there, which was very odd. Charlotte's always had its fair share of weird people, from hippies to homeless people who were usually high on whatever drug they were on, but this was definitely a first for Blake. He'd never seen anyone just stand in one spot like that. He stopped for a bit and watched them, trying to figure out their intention. They were too far for Blake to make out any features; all he could see was a silhouette standing perfectly still, almost like a statue. He stood there for a few more seconds before the person turned their head a little. They stopped moving once more, opened their arms wide, and made a very loud, unnerving noise that sent chills down Blake's spine. He swore it sounded like they roared. Not like a playful, "I'm just trying to scare someone" kind of roar. This seemed more like a "wild animal that's hungry and filled with rage" kind of roar. Taken aback by the sudden display of aggression from this mystery person, he slowly made another step toward the stairs of the apartment building. This was obviously the wrong decision, however, because that seemed to enrage the person even farther. They leaned forward and started running, no sprinting, down the road in Blake's direction. Bewildered, he watched them quickly close the distance between himself and them. They were roaring and snarling as they sprinted towards him, becoming closer and closer by the second. Blake's body twitched as he realized the screaming person wasn't slowing down, so he ran up the stairs, flung the door open, and threw himself inside, pressing his back against the door and breathing heavily. Did this person actually have blood on their chin and shirt, or was Blake imagining things? His imagination had the tendency to go a bit wild at times, so that's probably what it was. 

That's definitely not what it was. Maybe half a second after he shut the door, the strange man ran up the stairs after him, and started roaring and beating his fists against the door. Blake quickly turned to lock the deadbolt, and finally got a good look at his assailant ... and what he saw made his stomach turn. This man looked to be maybe in his mid-forties, balding, and very very sick. His eyes were completely white, and it looked as though he'd vomited up quite a bit of blood, as it was all over his chin and shirt. His skin looked incredibly pale, and the bags around his eyes were very dark. As he banged and clawed at the door, he was leaving bloody handprints and smears all over the windows, as his hands were covered in blood as well. Blake's observation was cut short as the sound of a gunshot filled the air. Simultaneously, the man's head was jerked to the right, as his body fell to the ground. Not waiting around to see the source of the gunshot, he booked it up the stairs to his apartment, unlocked the door, and ran inside. 

The first thing he did was lock the door back. The second thing he did was get hit by a truckload of emotions. All at once, his heart started working overtime, his lungs felt like they weren't fully functional, and his eyes started watering up, creating droplets and sending them down his cheeks. What on Earth was going on? What had he been missing by not bothering to watch the news? And more importantly, what the hell was that thing outside? It was obviously a person, but what was wrong with him? The white eyes, the blood on his chin, shirt, and hands... It was, in a very watered-down way to put it, fucked up. Blake frantically reached in his pocket for his phone, not feeling it in there. In a panic, he looked around for a second and saw it lying on the counter in the kitchen. He must've forgotten to take it with him when he left for class. He'd always been forgetful like that. He unlocked the screen to find three missed calls and one voicemail, all from his mother, back in Portman. With a very shaky hand, he opened the voicemail and heard his mother's voice, crying into the phone. "Please answer me, Blake. I've been trying to call you all morning, and you haven't answered me. We just need to know you're safe. Please, baby, just send a text, at least. We're all worried. Me, your dad, Emma. Call me back as soon as you get this. Please. I love you."