D. M. Bingham

D. M. Bingham

  • D. M. Bingham
    Published 2 years ago
    Independence (Part 1)

    Independence (Part 1)

    Distant thunder and the gentle tapping of rain on the abandoned cars that littered the streets of Independence, Missouri echoed through the once busy city. The only other sounds are that of the infected. Wild, vicious shrieking can be heard 24 hours a day, however unseen in daylight hours, most likely wandering beneath the streets. Though at night, we try our hardest not to listen. At night, they roam freely, in stumbling herds of at least 20. Their senses somehow much stronger than ours, they can hear the slightest of noises, smell the weakest of odors. Sleeping at night, or at all, is an activity of the past. The infected smear their bodies on every surface, searching for another host to pass the virus onto. We live in constant worry that our basement fortifications won't be enough, though we've lived through these last two months down here since the initial outbreak. In the stairwell leading into the basement where we reside is piles and piles of boxes, miscellaneous furniture, and anything we could find in the basement to clog up the way down to us, which has worked thus far. All windows have been painted black and boarded up, the only way in or out is through our steel basement door that we lock down as tight as we possibly can anytime I leave or come back from my weekly supply run.