CHAPTER ONE
I like crowds. The thick stream of people, the beautiful chaos; they’re so easy to blend into. I can effortlessly get lost in them and no one would even notice. I’m the kind of person who dislikes standing out. I dislike being the center of attention. I prefer to stay in the middle of the pack. Always away from being the target. Always safe.
That was a year ago. It feels like decades.
Kicking the glass shards on the street, I idly make my way to an old inn five blocks away. I’ve been staying there for a week now. So far, no trouble had sprung up. The war obliterated some parts of this town but outskirts are untouched. And judging by the drawn shutters and closed doors, everyone who used to live here didn’t die here. They left.
Everyday, I go out to scout the area. I don’t know why I should. I don’t even know what to do if ever I find something or someone alive aside from me. Attack it and kill it or ally with it and trust it or run away from it, I have no idea. I just have to keep myself busy or else I’ll go mad. And then, I’ll end up like everyone else. I wish it was that easy. Sometimes, a part of me wants to just let go.
I’m not supposed to be thinking sentimental stuff right now. It’s not like I’m not used on being alone. Heck, I’ve been alone my entire life. I had my mom but she doesn’t hover over me all the time unlike most mothers. Me, I usually try to avoid conflict. I made connections tight enough to have people behind my back but also loose enough to avoid commitments. It worked out. Maybe that’s the only reason why I’m still alive. Because I trusted no one but myself.
The street is strewn with few abandoned vehicles. Unfortunately, most of them are not functional anymore. I could really use a car right now. The last one I drove to get in here lies two miles outside of town with steaming engine and malfunctioning wires. Not an option anymore.
I glance at the west. The sun reads late afternoon, probably five. It’ll be dark soon so I hurry. It’s not wise to stay outdoors when the sun’s already down. I jog.
A shotgun dangles heavily behind my right arm. It slams on my side at every step, bumping on my hip in awkward thumps. A few months back, I found this in one of the houses I passed on my way here. I keep it loaded all the time. I haven’t used it so far but I carry it along anyway. No one can tell when danger comes in a curb. It’s always best to be prepared.
I stop in front of a large building which faces the former municipal hall. This used to be a grocery store but now, the sign that says Corie’s Mart is torn and lying on the street. I almost forgot that I run out of provisions. I suppose I can find something in there like what I did when I first got here. I glance at the bleeding west. I still got a few minutes before the sun sets completely.
I round at the side and find the wooden box I propped under the fire exit ladder. I stand over the box. Reaching for the lowest rung, I pull myself up and climb. It’s a wearing task but I have no other choice since the entrance is blocked by a metal grilled door.
Gasping for breath, I make it to the second floor. It’s dark so I flick the switch of my flashlight and I hoard stuff into my backpack. Canned goods that haven’t reached their expiration dates yet, batteries, lighters, matches, old soaps, oils, toothbrush, and most importantly, water. I also raid the medicine counter where I grab handful of everything that can be put in a first aid kit.
A laugh bubbles in my stomach as I find an unlocked cash register. Lucky day. A wad of Philippine bills and coins swim right before my eyes. I wonder if the grocery owner forgot to clean out the register before leaving.
Shaking my head, I walk away from the counter. Money is useless these days. Even tissue papers precede their use. Oh, right. I have to get some of those, too.
While heading back to the first floor where cottons and tissues are, I scan the rest of the stalls. Most of the foods are way over their expirations which worry me because how am I supposed to stay alive if I can’t get food like these anymore? I can’t raid groceries forever and I have no idea on how to go Katniss Everdeen on a war-torn land such as this.
If I wasn’t running, things would be easier. I could settle down in someplace quiet, live alone, manage on the basics… But no, staying in one place for too long isn’t advisable. Who knows how many armies of crazy fucked up ex-humans are on my tail right now?
My backpack is already full so I have to grab an eco-bag I found under the counter. I fill the bag with tissues, and few clothing items that were hanged on one side. The T-shirts were large and has a huge print of a detergent bar logo—freebies, I think. I take them anyway. After that, I make my way back to the second floor’s fire exit.
I’m halfway through the stairs when I hear a faint noise from the first floor, like a plastic bag rustled under a boot. Squinting, I aim my flashlight on the space where the sound came. Another rustling. I wait. One. Two. Three minutes had passed. Nothing.
My chest pounds wildly. One thing this dehumanized world taught me: Nothing is an understatement. There is always something.
I switch off the flashlight. I swiftly duck behind a stall, gun held with both hands. It could be mere rats but paranoia is my current best friend. I don’t trust to hope that I am safe. I pick up a pack of old macaroni pasta and hurl it hard at the farther side of the store. It lands with a heavy thud, crashing with beer cans and plastic bottles. Whatever it is, the attention will be drawn away from my position.
I ready myself, adjusting my eyes on the dark. A slight squeak against the tiled floor sends me a tremor. I’m shaking so badly, I have to bite the inside of my cheek repeatedly to distract myself. Should I stay here until I’m sure it’s nothing? I curse myself for being such a coward.
My mouth is filled with the sharp taste of blood. I quickly regret chewing my cheek. Taking deep breaths, I calm myself. I mustn’t panic. It’ll only make things worst. I’ll wait for another ten minutes. When the coast is still clear, I’ll run for the exit.
I close my eyes and feel the slowing pace of my heartbeat. Nine minutes. Eight. Seven. Still nothing. Six. Five. Four. Maybe, I’m just really paranoid. Three. Two. One. I relax my hold on the gun’s trigger. Zero.
Holding onto my things, I poise for a sprint to the fire exit which is now illuminated by a faint halo of reddish sunset. I run.
Only four steps away from the door, something—somebody—throws himself at me. I know it’s a man because no woman’s body is that hard. He knocks me off and I land rolling on the tiled floor. A strangled cry breaks out from my throat. Panic surges on me as I try to scramble on my feet. I’m an escapist. I can run away before he can catch up to me.
I push myself up and try again. But I never got the chance to take another step because whoever he is, he’s faster. He slams his body onto mine, successfully pining me down on the floor. I drop facedown, almost fainting from the impact. Blood rushes from my nose. I try to reach out for my shotgun but it’s behind me, clamped between my bag and my back. I struggle but come into a halt when I feel a tip of a dagger on my neck.
“That’s more like it,” says the man when I stop moving. His voice is deep, very manly. My head is turned towards the door and I can see that the light outside’s already fading. This is not good.
“Get off me,” I say as sternly as I can but my voice comes out in nothing but a desperate croak. It’s clear that I am scared.
The man didn’t answer but aims a flashlight on me. I grimace at the light. For a moment, he let it shine on my face.
“Turn that thing off. Are you trying to blind me?” I snap at him.
“You’re just a kid.”
My eyes dart open. I feel my face burn. I jerk away, totally forgetting the dagger on my neck. “Get off!” I snap at him in more callous tone.
I hear the man snort. He stands up and lets me go. My whole body aches and I curse again under my breath as I smooth down my shirt. I saw the man put the small dagger in a holster in his boot. Now that we’re both standing, I realize why he thought I’m a kid. He’s nearly six feet tall, with well-built body and muscles in the right places, which contrasts sharply to my short and slim stature.
Ignoring him, I pick up my things. I’m glad I had the mind of knotting the eco-bag’s handle or else the contents would’ve fallen off. I take a pack of tissue and dabs some on my bleeding nose. It’s not that bad, I think. The blood has already stopped from pouring out.
“’Sorry. ‘You okay?” I hear him ask. I look back at him and through the last wisp of light, I finally see his face. Deep set hazel eyes, brown hair, defined jaws—handsome fellow. He’s wearing worn-out jeans, V-neck shirt under a black hoodie, and a pair of Doc Martens.
“Yeah. I got pinned on the floor with a knife on my neck, and my nose is messed up and you just deliberately called me a kid, so I’m holding up just fine. What the hell was that for?” I ask angrily, ignoring the girlish side of me which fawns over him.
“You got a gun. What d’you expect me to do? Say ‘Hi?’”
I don’t answer him. It feels weird. I haven’t seen a non-infected person for almost six months now, and I honestly don’t know what to say. There’s a longing part in me which made my chest swell with emotion. A non-infected person. A normal human being. I’m not alone.
That almost sounds like close to impossible considering the situation the world is into right now. And my chest hurts. No, I can’t consider on hanging around with him. I’m a danger to everyone. I decide to leave. I head to the exit.
“Where on earth are you going?” he asks.
“None of your business.” I climb down the ladder.
“Touchy.”
I ignore him and hang down on the last rung. I let go and my sneaker make contact with the wooden box. I jump down. It’s already dark so I jog until I reach the main street. At the front of the municipal hall across the road, a black Ducati is parked. That’s not there a while ago so it must belong to that guy.
I was right because behind me, he appears and cross the street. I notice he’s carrying a large mountaineer’s backpack. It’s full of stuff from the store. Like me, he’s looting for provisions. I shake my head and decide that I shouldn’t bother. I jog steadily away from Corie’s. I’m still three blocks away from the inn.
Two blocks. I look back when I hear a faint roar of motorcycle coming at me. I see the man driving it. He slows down and keeps up with my pace.
“Where are you going?”
“Stop following me,” I say curtly.
He blocks me way. I stop. “Seriously, where are you going?” he asks again.
“To do something about my nose,” I answer sarcastically.
He smirks. “I said I was sorry.”
I scoff and ignore him. I don’t need distractions right now and I think escaping is the best option. Old habits die hard. I resume jogging and finally reach the last block. I make a sharp turn when I see the inn. Catching my breath, I walk up to the front door. And something lunges at me.
Pale sagging skin—almost translucent—large bloodshot eyes, foaming mouth, inhuman grunts and growls—the monsters has reached my little safe haven. I knew it was wrong to stay here for too long.
Taken aback, I fell hard on the sidewalk with the thing on me. The backpack lessens the impact but the pain is still undeniable. The monster screams, obviously excited at the sight and smell of the blood on my nose. I grit my teeth, my head pounding with adrenaline. I bring my elbow up and it meets with the monsters jaw. The blow hurts my bone but it loosens the monster’s hold on me. I kick it on the stomach and it stumble backwards.
Still lying on my back, my hand fumbles on the gun behind me. I raise it against the monster’s head level. I can shoot it. I can. If only I stop trembling and my finger find the trigger. The monster screams again and is about to pounce on me. I steady myself. I’ll kill this motherfucker. I’ll blow its head off. But before I could fire a shot, a dagger sticks on the monster neck. It thrashes around but it’s obvious it’s losing its life fast.
The guy from the store comes rushing to my side. He steps on the monster’s chest and pulls the dagger from its neck. He kicks it away from us and pulls me to my feet.
“Why didn’t you just shoot?”
“I got it under control!” I answer furiously, ashamed of my hesitation.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he says crossly.
I dust my jeans off and adjust the bag behind me. I just got my stance when we hear it. Growls. More of them are coming. From the end of the street, I can see them coming. Snarling. Leaping. Running on all fours like a pack of wolves. We can’t fight them all.
The man pushes me towards his motorcycle. Without a second thought I jump on it. As he starts the engine, he mutters under his breath, “Fucking vampires!”