The Mutatio Disease

Sector One

 - - - - Sector One - - - -
- - - - Part One - - - -
A Girl's Personal Space

     I always knew I'd go to hell.

     Everything felt like I'd been chucked into a wood chipper, sewn back together, freeze-dried, and smashed with a hammer. Every inch of my skin ached, my brain felt like it had eaten itself and spat it back out, and my bones felt like they'd been stuffed with concrete and glass.

     What else could this be other than hell? I mean, come on. Maybe I shouldn't have put that dye in Lyra's shampoo.

     Okay, let me back up. Three days ago. When I thought the world was still as happy as it had been, and the zombie apocalypse hadn't hit. When everything was fine.

~

     The truck rumbled down the road. I hummed along to the beat, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel as I sang a horrible version of the song playing through the speakers. Luckily, no one was around to hear my tone-dead attempt. My spirits were high as I turned my truck onto the freeway, clicking on the blinker.

    I was heading home after close to ten months in a secluded cabin up north. After deciding to take a gap year after high school, I went to explore some Montana forests and see the snow. It had been nearly nine months, and I was more than ready to see my family again.

    Oddly, the freeway was close to empty as I drove along. I shot glances around curiously, wondering why some buildings were boarded up. Had I missed the zombie apocalypse or something? I didn't see a single living thing in sight. Weird.

    I twirled a strand of my curly, bright red hair as I drove along, excited to see my brother again. Felix was two years older than me and I loved him dearly. Being without him had been the hardest part of staying in Montana. And I couldn't wait to see Lyra! Man, I hadn't seen her since high school. I missed my best friend's wicked streak.

     The gauge for the gas caught my attention. Humming, I slowed down and pulled the truck to a gas station. The engine rumbled to a stop as I popped the door, pulling out the key and stepping onto concrete. The station itself was boarded up, but the pumps still had to be working. There was no sign that they wouldn't be.

     I was wrong. They weren't functioning. I frowned, pulling the truck to another pump. Five minutes later, and none of the pumps in the large gas station were working. The hell was this? If a zombie didn't come stumbling out in the next few seconds, then I was going to be pissed. What was going on?

    Half an hour later and my truck was running on fumes. Finally, I found a sketchy-looking station, but there was gas in the pump. I filled the tank and pulled out my wallet, heading to the building to pay.

     The door wasn't locked, or the windows boarded up. Though the shelves looked raided for any possible food or useful item, further convincing me I had arrived in the middle of an apocalypse. Where are the zombies, people?

     There wasn't anyone working the station, but I set a wad of cash on the table anyway. Looking around, I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise uneasily. My shoulders tensed up and I realized how stupid I was being.

     I was alone in a sketchy gas station. I was obviously not carrying a gun or any mace, and even though I was considered tall for a woman, I was thin. Damn Irish background made me all skin and bones, and not an ounce of fat. I was helpless if someone decided to ambush me.

    And my story would be lousy if I wasn't ambushed, wouldn't it?

     I quickly headed for the door, wanting out of there. This was too dangerous. Instead, a shape stepped between me and it. My heart hammered in my chest as I took a step back, eyes wide at the massive man. He had to be close to seven feet. He was covered in muscle, and foggy eyes stared down at me. They were an unnatural white color, and I swallowed as I took another step back. How did I not see him when I walked in?! He's frickin' massive!