Since the disease outbreak life in our quiet little town has quickly diminished into a war zone. There was no signs, no steady descent into madness. It was an unexpected bomb that dropped at our feet.
In the early days I watched a neighbour of mine panic from a cough he feared was a sign he was joining the undead. Instead he became exactly what he feared. A mindless virus of decay and rot, letting their senses and greed control their actions. His screams and hysteria attracted a large herd. Unable to do anything I took the chance to escape myself with my son. I can still remember his screams turning into shrieks as they surrounded and pushed towards him like a beacon. So many of them. I am not ashamed to say my only thought was to run.
Now here we are hiding together in our own churches and schools. Every day that passes the air stinks of death and panic. I can’t tell you what’s more frightening the virus or how quickly fear can contaminate the mind. Accusations of who has been infected has made us weary of each other. I have seen people I know, people I trusted throw an old lady out for space and provisions. I blocked the animalistic shuffles and moans of what happens to these people outside. I can’t help them all. My first thought has to be my son. Without me his five years won’t be enough to help him survive from either the dead or living so I keep myself quiet.
Why this is happening? I have heard theories of climate change and to Gods punishment for our sins. None of it matters if it can’t lead to a cure. As the days drag I find it possible that we’re just being hopeful and that there is no remedy. However, that seems to be the only hope that we cling to these days so I keep myself quiet.
It’s not enough as time is running shorter. The undead are quickly outnumbering us. The military fenced them into our town where they woke up from their graves. No one can leave in a desperate attempt to stop the disease from spreading. One thing we learned quickly was that the infected cannot be contained and I assume the dead can’t be killed again. Slowing and discreetly the military got smaller… turned or abandoned us… either way they seem to have gone completely.
My child’s skin is burning hot and his breathing is hitched. My group aren’t saying anything but they’re starting to notice. I also spied a nasty bite mark on the man that has taken charge of us all. It’s only a matter of time before this community we’ve shaped all falls apart. I’m taking my son out to the fence. One way or another I’m getting him out where he can be properly taken care of. I won’t let them put him down like some dog.
He will live. I promise.