Chapter One:
Breathe.
I tried to. It was a lame attempt at getting air into my lungs. It was more of a shaky gasp if anything at all. I was pretty pathetic if you thought about it.
My back was pressed up against the thick wood of a desk in a crowded office building. I was crouched in a fetal position under the table of a probably dead employee. A picture of a small toddler had fallen onto the floor and now stared at me from the cracked glass of the frame. The child has small teeth growing in as it gazed happily towards the camera, drool slipping down its chubby chin. Once upon a time, I would've made a noise to indicate how cute it was. Now I just stare and wish that I could believe that kid was still alive.
The ozone layer had been punctured, leaving the air thin and toxic. Those who survived became one of two people; creatures, delirious from the lack of oxygen and transformed into vicious killers and stragglers, humans.
Honestly, the only people capable of making it out here had to be old enough and self sufficient. Children were loud, and attracted the hordes faster than the mothers could quiet them. I remembered the child who got everyone in my group killed, more than I'd like to.
I ran my fingers delicately over the scarred skin on my wrist. The teeth of the creatures had left indentations on my flesh. The odd thing was; I wasn't infected with the pathogen like I should've been. Instead, something had changed.
Snapped.
My humanity had evaporated like water on the sidewalk in a drought. I became colder, harder. Within those five, fragile seconds of lying on the ground, the toxins had pumped all the way through my body and left me in a mere shell of what once was human.
Now here I was, the complete opposite of a normal person.
The creatures move quickly, their senses sharpened. They crave us, humans. Give them time, and they'll eat every inch of flesh and strip every organ from your dead, lifeless body.
I wasn't human anymore, but I wasn't one of them either.
That day, I killed every creature in the building with my semi-automatic. My group members received the standard shots to the head, dead or alive. I had taken my bag of supplies and left the scene without a single speck of remorse.
My brain wanted to bury the ones lost. But the new me had ordered to keep going.
And there I was, crouched under a desk with the soldiers searching the place for the creatures. I should've become a creature, the poison was inside of me. Instead I was like them in the sense that I could kill- and I did that all too well- and not feel anything. That sucked because I kind of missed feeling things, you know?
Blood had stained the linoleum next to my hiding spot, covering the ground and tainting the air with the metallic smell.
It probably came from the creature I shot on my way in.
The only things left in this world were the soldiers, stragglers, and the living dead.
I covered my mouth and nose to block out the smell of blood threatening to make me vomit the meager meal I'd devoured. I couldn't afford to make any noise. Not with the soldiers in here.
They'd kill me for being what I was. Half human. Half undead.
Hybrid.
One year ago. One hour before the DC went dark.
"Screw the apocalypse!" I muttered under my breath while my best friend went on and on about the latest episode of The Walking Dead. I had my nose in Maximum Ride and I was wondering when she'd notice that I was completely not paying attention to a word she was saying. I did that a lot- zoned out while reading, I mean.
"Rick Grimes is swoon worthy!" Layla raved.
"I guess," I shrugged, ducking behind my book again. I'd only read the graphic novels, and I didn't like Rick honestly. I was more for his son, Carl.
"You guess?" She sputtered. Layla proceeded to launch into a rant about why Rick was so amazing while I ignored her. Max and Fang were my OTP and currently having a moment, which even Layla couldn't pull me out of.
I smiled and nodded as she spoke, not bothering to look at her. I just had to pretend I was listening because anyone who knew me knew that I sucked at eye contact. At some point, the conversation took a turn into the category of the boys at our high school.
I wasn't one for talking about boys, even if that particular boy happened to be one I wasn't utterly repulsed by. But the only boy I remotely tolerated was our friend, Tristan who was completely off limits because he didn't exactly like girls.
My motto? All boys have cooties.
At this time, if the air slowly poisoning the ozone layer got too toxic, we'd hear a citywide alarm and head to the cafeteria for the day. Today was the third time this week, so I calmly tucked my hardcover into my messenger bag and stood up.
But this alarm was different.
"RUN!" Someone screamed.
We all took our sweet time to decide what we were exactly going to do. Some yanked out their cell phones and filmed the kids dropping like flies onto the pavement. They'd clutch at their throats and cough before going still. By the time they'd suffocated, their faces had time to turn purple.
I whipped around to where Layla was standing.
She was on the ground.
Her body was shaking like she was seizuring while her hands gripped at her own neck like someone was choking her. She was struggling to breathe, to do something other than lie in this heap on the ground. She looked at me expectantly. But I didn't know what to do.
It took her about a minute to die.
One painful minute. Those aggravating sixty seconds in the depths of your own personal nightmare. I watched my best friend die.
But the worst part was when she came back to life.
Layla- no It, launched itself off of the ground and stared at me with cold eyes. They were rimmed with crimson, bloodshot and murderous. Her pupils had dilated in a way that made me want to pee my pants.
All I could do was run before It got me.
I shot up so fast my head hit the desk. The room was quiet now, meaning the soldiers had gone on their merry way from the scene. Now I was alone, and able to move on to my destination. I was trying to find my old house.
Stepping over a dead body- a dismembered dead body-, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the small mirror. Same brown eyes and blonde hair hanging limp on my shoulders. Same freckles and dried blood on my cheeks. The blood was from the last Creature I shot. It splattered warm and sickly every time.
I blinked once, twice, three times to make sure I was real. The only difference was the slight quickness in my pace and the fact that I seemed to know everything around me. From the smell of the blood on the windows and floor to the maggots buzzing around as they devoured the dead bodies.
I left as soon as I could.
The world was never sunny anymore; it all just took on this grey color from the perpetual overcast covering the once blue sky. But I never liked sunny days anyway, clouds helped me think. Now I would give anything to stop thinking just for one minute.
Let me tell you something; no apocalypse we've already imagined came close to the one that came true. The same toxins that ruined and thinned the air are the same one's that create the Creatures. The Creatures aren't mindless; I believe that they just have an intense blood lust. Almost everyone does now.
Driving the bullet into the head of a Creature does give that satisfaction.
My ankle hurts with every step, mostly because I twisted it on my way into hiding last night. Soldiers don't treat the women too well. They only want men among their ranks because women can get pregnant and that means loud, treacherous babies.
I'm only fifteen and I know exactly how this terrible world works.
There's no power, so I had to get over my fear of the dark.
There's almost no food, so I got over the fear of going hungry.
There's danger literally everywhere, so I got over my fear of guns.
I'm dying, so I got over the fear of death.
In this world, fear will be the end of everything. I learned that the minute I found out I was on my own. By now the only thing I secretly worry about is the fact I don't feel human anymore. Good thing my introverted nature means I hardly get lonely. Being alone 24-7 does make me miss Layla's mini rants about TV shows and boys.
Sometimes I wished I had suffocated like everyone else.
"This sucks!" I exclaim to no one in particular. It makes me feel better though. Then I speak to myself. "Imogen Logan, you are losing it."
I sit down on a bench at a bus stop for five minutes to eat a cracker or two. The sky is darkening, and I know that nightfall is soon to come. Daylight post apocalypse only lasts a few hours. The soldiers hunt at night.
Taking deep breaths, I evaluate the empty streets and imagine what it would be like if people were still around. It would probably be nice to see life unraveling all around you. Now everything was a hollow impression of what used to be. What a funny thought: what used to be...
On this day a year ago, I was at school. I was at my locker and secretly watching Layla flirt with Declan Blaze, her crush and my bully. Had I been less- well, me and been more Layla I would've walked right up to him and slapped him across the face for all the times he used Layla and tormented me.
But of course, I sat back and read a book like I always did.
I climbed up into the rafters of a ceiling at nightfall. Unfortunately for me, I'd chosen a building with live occupants. I think I would've preferred Creatures to be quite honest.
I looked down to see a group of stragglers down below me, quietly conversing about the group of Creatures outside. There hadn't been any when I got here, so they brought them.
"Crap," I hissed through gritted teeth, looking down at the people below. There were four, all armed and clearly well fed. No girls, all guys. All my age and a few years older at most. What made it worse was the fact that there was another one somewhere; his backpack lay discarded on the floor below. I bit my lip and wanted to die.
I'd have to help them if I wanted to get out of here.
I stayed in my alcove in the ceiling watching them raid the kitchen and bathrooms for any supplied they could find. One of the guys found unused pads and tampons, carelessly tossing them over his shoulder. Those actually happened to be a rare commodity now, and I became very familiar with using a rag to- well you get the jist. Blood attracts Creatures, simple fact.
"Almost no food, lots of other supplies though," One of the guys reported back.
"Excellent," The leader sounded incredibly irritated. "We can try to wait out those things outside the doors. We are outmanned."
"Don't give up, Blaze, we still can try a back door."
"And step into an ambush? Looters hang out by the back doors." Blaze ran a hand through his hair. My bones chilled at the gesture. Declan Blaze was notorious for running his hands through his always messy hair; he did that when flirting or stressed.
"Declan, we've made it this long. We'll be fine," Another boy assured him. Funny, he sounded just like-
"Tristan, your optimism will get you killed!" Declan roared, moving away from the group to think.
I nearly fell from my spot when I realized they were all alive. Knowing people I once went to school with weren't dead gave me hope. I tried to squash the hope only to find it refueled like an infinite supply. The human part of me was always hopeful, but the rest? Not so much.
I recognized two of Declan's crownies right away. Jason Wes, basketball star and the one athlete smarter than me. Tucker James, notorious for pick pocketing and planting false evidence. I hated both of them for letting Declan torment me without a second thought. Though it was incredibly sexist of me to observe this, I thought every guy on Earth was a stupid meathead (excluding Tristan).
They were all congregated in the center of the room, all watching over a selected portion; smart. That way they could survey the surroundings and make sure they were alone. The only place they didn't look was up, lucky for me.
I felt tired by the minute, watching the boys take watches while the others slept. They slept undisturbed, something I'd never been capable of doing. It felt like the last time I'd had a good night's sleep was in another life. Now, the exhaustion hung over me perpetually- slightly less with whatever was happening with the whole half-Creature thing.
I was just glad to not have killed anyone yet.
I watched Declan as he sat on the floor, watching the empty spaces of the room. He seemed a lot less cruel when everyone else wasn't watching. Well, I was grateful he wasn't scratching you-know-where or anything.
He didn't look any different from the last time I saw him; he was still wearing his varsity jacket and stuff. The apocalypse had left his face scruffy and his hair ridiculously unkempt. His eyes were sad, not lit up like they used to be. For a minute, I wanted to feel bad for him- until I remembered all the awful things he'd said and done to me.
"Get a grip, Imogen," I hissed to myself.
Declan shook his friends awake. "Guys! We aren't alone..."
Oh crap. They heard me! The boys loaded their guns and fanned out, looking in every door and corner. I held my breath and worried that the beating of my heart was too loud.
My breath hitched in my throat.
"Did you hear that?" Jason asked.
Dang. They don't miss anything.
The boys regrouped and scratched their heads in confusion. "Where is it coming from?" Slowly but surely, all of their eyes shifted upwards. All of them pulled out their guns and loaded them.
I tried to scuttle away, but somehow my footing was lost and I was falling from the rafters in the ceiling and right into the armed crowd of boys who wouldn't hesitate to kill me.
Falling.
Falling from the ceiling....