Living in a cramped studio apartment on campus had its ups and downs. On one hand, Blake Walker's parents weren't there to tell him not to play Xbox with his friend until five in the morning. On the other hand, they weren't there to enforce any rules, so he oftentimes made the mistake of playing Xbox until five in the morning ... when he had a class at eight. As a result of this habit (Blake refused to call gaming an addiction), he was late to his classes more than he probably should be, due to oversleeping and missing his alarm.
Blake had always been a heavy sleeper anyway. Back when he lived at home, his younger sister, Emma, would occasionally complain about the fact that she'd have to go in his room, shut his stupid clock up, and wake him up herself. This usually resulted in him repeatedly getting beaten in the face with a pillow until he yelled at her and told her to get out. He loved his sister to death, but she could annoy the piss out of him sometimes. That's life with a thirteen year old sister, though.
He had moved from the small, boring town of Portman, South Carolina to the bustling city of Charlotte in North Carolina to get a degree in media. He had wanted to be a graphic designer his whole life, and he learned about a university in Charlotte with an amazing program in graphic design, so he packed his bags and moved the second he had enough money in his bank account. He had a really strong bond with his parents and sister, so it was a little hard for them all when he moved. They had thrown him a little going away party, complete with streamers, cake, and an ungodly amount of soda.
Aside from his small, close-knit family, he's never really had anyone to talk to. His parents were in their fifties, and his sister was ten years younger than him. He was a complete introvert, never really bothering to talk to people and make friends. The only friend he had went by the name "Ghost." They had met in an online game one night and hit it off really well. Now they play together nearly every night, just casually murdering people in Call of Duty and talking about their lives. Blake's, however, was quite boring. During the day, he was in class and working part time at a grocery store. At night, he was busy telling Ghost about it all. That was the extent of his social life; one friend that he'd never even met in real life. Yeah, he had his "work friends" that he never talked to outside of work, but he couldn't care less about any of them. He saw them at work, and that was enough for him.
Blake didn't have much money, however. He had been saving up for an Xbox for a while, and he finally got his dream TV: a sixty inch, 4K television for the sole purpose of playing video games. He had Netflix and YouTube as well, just no satellite TV or cable. That's how he wasn't able to see the impending doom that was lurking right outside his studio apartment door. Of course, he'd seen about this bacteria or virus or whatever it was on Twitter, and he'd heard his professors talk about it, but he never got on social media that much, and honestly, he'd just drown out his professors. He was in school to get his degree, not make friends.
Nothing really seemed off at first. Blake noticed the increased security at school, but hadn't really questioned anything. There were actual police officers at school, in addition to the usual resource officers. Blake would see them stopping students at doors, taking their temperature, shining flashlights into their eyes, and giving them small bottles of hand sanitizer with the university's logo on it. Over the past couple of days, Blake had gotten so many of those bottles, he didn't know what to do with himself. The weirdest thing was when everything had gotten exponentially worse overnight, and he didn't know about it until the next morning.
That day was Thursday, which was one of his slow days. He only had two classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and usually had to go to work a few hours later. His alarm had actually woken him up for once, and he was definitely going to be on time for class. He took a shower, put on fresh clothes, grabbed his bag, and walked out into the hallway. Thankfully, it wasn't too far of a walk from his apartment building to Wilson Hall, the building where his classes were held, so he could leave about ten minutes before class started and be there with a few minutes to spare ... which is exactly what he intended to do. He walked down the stairs and opened the main door, letting the sunlight hit his face, smelling the rain on the ground from the night before. He stepped onto the wet sidewalk and started on his way. He was stopped in his tracks at the sight of caution tape over the door of Wilson Hall, though. The stupid door must be broken again, he thought to himself, so he made his way around the building to the East Entrance. Once more, he was greeted with caution tape strung around the handles of the double doors, and taped to the large glass windows. He turned and looked around a bit, trying to find a hidden camera. Had he been on one of those prank shows where they have camera guys hiding in bushes, waiting to capture the reaction of whoever happen to become their latest victim? Not finding one, he changed his destination to the main office, to ask someone where he was supposed to go for class. After a two to three minute walk, he reached the stairs that led to the office, and from the bottom, he could see the yellow and black tape that was wrapped around those doors as well. He jumped as a hand grasped his shoulder and a deep voice said "excuse me, sir." Turning around, Blake's heart sunk to his stomach as he saw himself face-to-face with a police officer, wearing a very stern expression on his face. This man was a good six inches taller than Blake, and his biceps were the size of Blake's head. "Can I ask what you're doing out of your house, son?"
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."