Press Play

I leaned my head against the window of the passenger seat. Of all days, my mom decided to go clothes shopping today. The inevitable and dreaded upcoming year of school was slowly creeping its way towards me; I would be a 12th grader soon. The only positive thought that caressed my mind was how this would be my last year doing stuff like this—but then I'd remember college.

I pointed to a thrift shop nearby. There were usually things in there that you wouldn't normally find elsewhere, and I liked that.

"So, do you think you can go inside yourself?" My mom combatively asked me as soon as we parked.

I knew she was testing me for my "adulthood skills", and with that in mind, I wordlessly opened the car door and marched my way inside the shop, proving my assertiveness.

The first thing I recognized was the citrus-scented freshener the store owner always used. It was my preferential choice years ago, and since then, things have never changed. I used to be friends with her daughter, but spite led us to part two years ago. However, that didn't end the close relationship her mom still had with me. It was always a booming greeting followed up with some small talk every time I'd show up, which made walking into this shop feel like a home. I used to get scorned for calling her Ms. Jones—she prefers her first name, Nancy. Surprisingly, as a rather anti-social person, it never bothered me. I could tell she genuinely admired me as though I was her second daughter. Our relationship didn't feel manufactured, and it's easy to show how much one could care for another, but only a special few can sustain it. Plus, we had lots of similar interests other people would generally deem weird, which surprisingly was heavily unlike her real daughter.

I already finished eyeing half of the store, now moving on to the second half. There didn't seem to be any cute outfits this time around. I felt kind of bad; I mean, I wasn't hoping to leave the store empty-handed. I eventually gave myself a quick break on clothes and headed towards the section of the store filled with appealing items. Nancy told me that she didn't have anyone she could hand down her old gadgets and books to, so she decided to sell some of them here. One time, we had a little guessing game on which ones were hers, and if I guessed one right, I'd get to keep it for free.

Nancy was such a delightful person to be with; I never wanted to change that.

I waved my hands away from the books, as I already have enough of those at home. What caught my attention were the new DVDs and VHSs sitting on a table that was propped in front of the shelf of older ones. Each of them had little drawstring bags attached to their cases. Strangely, there was one VHS that had no label. I picked it up and examined every spot to make sure I wasn't just blind. Curiosity speared through my brain to buy it, regardless if that would have been a worthy decision for my wallet.

My fingers twitched from the enthusiasm that coursed through my body, now heading towards the checkout counter.

I buckled up my seatbelt in the car and told my mom to drive to some other place. She rolled her eyes, seething on how much time we'd eventually consume for a single errand.

"Did Aunt Nancy miss you again?"

I glanced at my mom's icy eyes from the rearview mirror. She knew of my relationship with Nancy, but in many moments I can sense the apparent envy.

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Although I missed out on lunch, my mind was too excited to be focusing on food at the moment. I rushed into my room and made sure no one was around before taking my newly bought VHS out of the plastic bag. I quickly and carefully untied the small, grey silk drawstring bag, unveiling a golden heart-shaped locket. Inside was a picture of an ashy, run-down building. Next to it had the words "press play". I smiled and assumed this was a fun little theme the creator purposely did.

Unknown to whether it came from nervousness or adrenaline, my hands were still cold and trembling from before while I placed the VHS inside of my converter box. Something about these ancient-like things always released an uncanny feeling inside me, maybe because they had an aura of being so secret and hidden away from all of the recent modern technology in this world today. Each film taped inside is like a world that exists entirely of its own.

The room was surrounded by silence as I patiently waited for the screen on my tv to load. Immediately, I was confronted with loud shrieking noises, causing me to frantically turn down the volume.

There was a bloodied woman behind a running man, and she had just given birth, but the man never stops running. Every once in a while, he would turn the camera around to reveal the crying woman in pain. He also zoomed in on smoke emitted from far away, as though a part of the city had just been knocked down. Some of the squeals would belong to him as it was apparent he was terrified. The next several frames showed a bizarre transition of the woman shrieking—but now differently—while she bent backward, resembling a possessed person.

The following minutes that proceeded to play on my tv, I practically had to force my eyes to stay focused on the screen; it was very tough to watch. Never in my life have I witnessed a monstrous human eating their newborn in the middle of an alleyway.

As he was losing his breath, the man dove straight into a hotel and attempted his best efforts to scream for attention. Most of the people there stared at him with furrowed eyebrows and a judgemental expression. Of course, that was only a natural reaction towards a randomly panicked man with patches of blood stained onto his clothes. The fear in his voice only grew when he had noticed no one was completely paying attention to his words, and with that, he fled to another building—one after another, all with nothing but the same results.

Success at receiving help began to sink as the previously quiet city eventually turned into a hellbound jungle, with people attacking each other left and right. Soon enough, it was like an army of creatures swarming the streets and buildings. Having enough time to escape, the man managed to hide in a balcony of his apartment, panning the camera down to the people racing their hearts out for as long as they desired to stay alive—some not being so fortunate. Ferocious knocking was coming from the door, accompanied by a man endlessly pleading. The man recording hesitated to open it until he was stunned to hear a baby crying. He was welcomed with the baby in hand and examined the assumed father, who had scratches and visible bite marks on his arms and neck.

"Take my baby girl, please! Please, make sure she's safe! I need to trust you."

Without further confrontation, the man kicked the father out the door. Upon doing so, three infected people aggressively rushed to him. One of them noticed the man recording and dashed towards the room from the door that was still open. Courageously, the father dragged him away just in time, garnering all attention towards himself.

Now that I was heavily engaged, my eyes darted across the screen, witnessing every detail. The recording was a seemingly authentic depiction of a real-life situation, but the concept was very movie-like.

The camera spun towards the squirming baby crying on the bed, and the man's heavy breathing turned into short, disheartened gasps as he caressed the single bite mark on her cheek.

The tape abruptly cut to an entirely different location, this time in what can only be described as a secret lab. A woman's composed voice can be heard as the camera guides the viewer to hundreds, possibly thousands, of bodies strapped in hospital beds. The woman, who revealed was working for the government, gave a brief explanation about the entire experiment they were tasked with—how it was coined as the method for a stronger army. She picked up a bottle filled with a murky-colored solution and swung it in front of the camera.

"This is what makes the magic happen. But a single tablespoon is enough to cause immense effect."

A nearby nurse was seen injecting that amount of the liquid inside a fully conscious woman's arm. She was jerking her body around out of reluctance to the wicked experiment that she was evidently forced into. Merely a minute after injection, the woman violently pulsed her body upwards. The amount of strength she now possessed allowed her wrists and ankles to easily break free from the constraints and rapidly aimed for a body next to hers. Endless screaming echoed throughout the open space, and the camera fell to the ground.

I paused the videotape, catching my breath in the process. I didn't know how long the recording was, so I planned to finish the rest this night. I wasn't traumatized, but it definitely didn't leave a good feeling in my stomach, perhaps the cause of my recently lost appetite.

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I galloped my way to the toaster with two parts of a bagel in each hand. Unfortunately, there was only pineapple spread; strawberry's my consistent go-to.

"Oh my goodness."

My mom distressingly chanted. I walked over to the living room to see what all the commotion was about. She was watching tv and had the channel on one of the news stations.

"Are you seeing this, too, Christa? Something happened inside there. They won't say what, though."

My eyes widened as I felt a choking amount of air leave my body. I sprinted to my room and searched for the locket that I had just bought the other day. I came back out and compared the picture of the crashed building in the locket to the totally destroyed mess of the United States Capitol.

From every detail within that single shot, unbelievably no difference.