Sepia to Darkness
“I am infected,” the woman whispered, her hand dangling out the truck's window. The city outside the open window was bathed in fire, the sun’s rays baking everything. Shriveled newspapers and flyers lay crumbled on the ground like broken bodies. But she knew that the actual rotting carcasses were inside the buildings. It all looked like part of a sepia tone photo.
The woman gazed at a drug store, its windows stared back with vacant, grime covered glass eyes. The world had grown so quiet that if she listened closely, she could almost hear the voices of inanimate objects. But perhaps, that was just her dwindling sanity. Either way, she knew that this was not madness. The world had truly become fire.
“Think it’s safe enough to get out and look for supplies?” the man driving said.
“I don’t know,” a boy in the back said. “It’s always quiet when we get to a new town.”
“Like the calm before a storm,” the woman said.
"You're really beginning to creep me out with your riddle talk," the boy said.
The woman couldn't help but smile. "I wouldn't hurt a bug..." she said.
"Are roaches bugs or insects?" the boy asked.
"Insects, I think," the driver said. "Either way, I hate the bastards." He winced as brown dots scurried across the road.
"There's so many," the woman said, watching the roaches climb up the curb and disappear into a store.
"Think those are the kinds that bite?" the boy said.
"I don't know, kid," the driver said. "They all look the same to me."
"They probably are. The other kind is prey to them, after all," the woman said.
The driver looked at her, studying her from bottom to top. “Listen, um… Karen, you were bitten three hours ago, and for some reason, we were foolish and didn’t kill you right then. But we’re a group, and we trust each other, so we all believed you when you said you were immune.”
“If you are having second thoughts, please, don't keep me waiting.”
“No. I wasn't talking about getting rid of you. in fact, I’m glad we didn’t kill you. Because, I really think you’re special. You may even have something in your blood that can end this.”
Karen shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think things are that simple.”
“I see what you mean. No one expected any of this horror movie stuff to ever happen,” the boy said. “I mean really, roaches evolving some kind of toxin that makes people go crazy. Zombies.”
The driver maneuvered around a trailer flipped over on its side, like a beached whale. The street beyond it was in no better shape. Glass shards were littered all over the place, shining under the harsh rays of the sun.
“We should stop by a market for some canned goods,” the driver said, pulling into a street called Dover.
Business and convenience stores surrounded them on both sides, like canyon walls. Buzzards were perched on roofs, watching them drive by. This part of town, she noticed, had been the scene of a violent struggle with them. Windows were spider-webbed, doors hung from their hinges, and cars were jammed together.
“Still think we should stop here?” the boy asked.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” the driver said. “This all happened at the beginning. Time has gone by.”
“Not much."
“Yes, but-“
“Shh!” Karen rasped, putting a finger over her lips. “I think I can-“
Rabid howls shattered the stillness and echoed from every direction. They were coming.
“We’re right in the middle of it,” the driver said, frantically surveying the area like a cornered cat. In a sense, they all were. Cats cornered by vicious dogs.
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“What are we going to do, man?” the boy said, pounding on the back of the front seat.
“We get out before the feeding frenzy gets here,” the driver said, turning to Karen. “Karen! Roll up your window!”
She stared back at him with blood-shot eyes, gums pulled back, spittle slithering down her cheeks.
“No!” he said, lashing out with his elbow as Karen slashed at him. “She’s turned!”
“Oh shit!” the boy said, unbuckling his seat belt and backing up to the drivers end. He shut his eyes when he caught sight of the infected stampeding out from alleyways and inside stores. Their bodies were red under the sun. They were running forward with the speed of track stars, madly flailing their arms.
“Get the gun!” the driver said, stomping on the accelerator. He heard the boy groan as his head scraped against the window, not expecting the sudden jolt in speed.
Karen snarled as she was pressed back in her seat. She thrashed violently, the seat belt ripping from the buckle.
The driver opened his mouth to scream. Karen wrapped her mouth over his throat, silencing him.
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The boy whimpered as he dug under the seat for the gun. When he found it he yanked it out and without checking to see if it as loaded, took off the safety. He raised his trembling arms and aimed at the side of Karen’s blood splattered face. He pulled the trigger just as the truck collided with a traffic jam. The windshield exploded and him and Karen flew out.
The fiery world faded to black.
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