The world turned into a lifeless grave. The minute the disease escaped the mental facilities, starting with New York City, figures occupied the roads fast as each individual tried their best to get-away.
It started with a cure, one remedy to cure emotionally ill youths, but the inventor that created this cure was a lunatic.
His younger was part of the mentally ill kids and because of this, he could not bear to see his child torment, so he made it upon himself to find any remedy possible, but the side effects were more severe than the cure itself.
Starvation, bloodshed, transformation to the fleshly form, everything that comes from a dreadful film happened before his lunacy eyes, and might I add, this might have been his plan all along, but who can say…
The decease made themselves upon the streets and New York Capital, as we all know a lifeless place with wrestling feet and howling jaws.
***My skin slides against the wooden floor, leaving pieces of splinter stuck inside “Issabella, get.”
Fresh blood enters my nostrils; mom’s grim view frightens me “Why are you covered in blood mom? Where is dad?”
Her weight does not leave the door, “Something attacked your father…” Her red polish digs into the wooden door, causing my trembling legs to force upward.
“Mom... what hit?” Her knotted bloody brown hair does not fit her, one moment she hesitates to answer, only her green eyes demands… and the next, her palms throw me toward the restroom entrance.
“Bunny, hide p-please.” “Why mommy, what happened? What is happening?” I focus on her fists, shivering against the wood, afraid to let go of the handle.
Her lips parch with each breath, “Issabella!”
I slam the restroom door close, and crawl into the corner, I do not know what is going on, but by the sounds of the growling and scuffling, it must have something to do with the virus reports.
Why would she hide me when I also fight? I can help her, but she denies me every time I call her.
I poke around the room for any practical exit. Since the news started spreading about 2 weeks, my parents have been closing and stocking like maniacs.
I pull my courage together and stand; I am yet alive, and I even make it in this world. “What is that? What is making that noise?” A split appears on the wooden door, and a scream accompanies.
My tail hits the sink in a puff “Mom,” Her screaming echoes behind the brain forcing through the break.
“Issabella, get out of there,” How, where do I go? I grip onto an arrow whilst the head continues to force it, and mom yelling at it.
“No,” Gray circles, pale trim, red liquid drains from the corners of his sickening grin.
I close my watering pedals, and the arrow slips through his scrape, blood boils from his shredded crust, sliding over my hide…
I yank my hand back as soon as a loud piercing sound echoes, and my knees cave in, I hesitate to touch his skin, his used to know face. He used to know blue eyes…
To scratch his black messy hair, hold it, like any daughter would, but I do not, instead, I find myself rocking endlessly.
“Issabella,” “M-mom, coming,” I force my feet and yank the door open, ignoring the used to know the body.
My wobbles do not want to, “Bell, no, go back,” I ignore the pain in her voice, and follow it instead, I can save her, I can save myself,
“Issabella, I am giving you an order,” I can hear her clicking bolting away from me, why is she running?
I twist the handle of my door and pin my nose… “What happened? Did she kill all of them?”
I trample over them, holding tightly onto my crossbow, in case one of them becomes my nightmare.
However, no sound, I stroll further down the hallway, passing the large staircase toward their room, slowly scanning the area.
“Mom,” My fingers shiver against my lips, hesitating to open the door, hesitating to know if mom is still mom… I reach for the handle, and twist the cold metal slowly…
Cracking with each push, I jump over the pile of red liquid, and continue…
“Mom,” Her pale skin enters my view, red substance sliding off every part of her skin. “Mom, no,”
My watering pedals wobbles the view before me, her red polish grip onto my shoulders, I cannot move, I cannot defend myself against her demanding green’s.
She yanks me down, and cause a puff to escape, as soon as she lands on me,
“No,” Trying her best to go savage on me, I battle against her grip, “NO, mom, don’t,” I bump her off, and scramble onto my feet, almost losing my balance in the process.
I sprint toward the wide window in her room, her red polish pulls me back, and in a puff, I slam against the wall…
“Mom, p-p-please…” She turns slowly, bend head, lifting her left side shoulder, she bolts for me again, I jump out of the way, her head slams into the wall, and her growl echo through the room…
I force my stand, ignoring the pain, and sprint toward the window once more, I jump through, without thinking twice, and land on the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Small pieces of glass slide into my skin, I shrink as I brush them off.
I do not have the energy t stand, or even move forward, despite the glass burning in my hide, I cannot deal with them now.
Why did this happen? Why my parents, an echo crashing next to me, forces my wobbles upward, her moaning roars through the yard, causing other scuffling to my position, “Shit,”
I sprint toward the garage, still ignoring the burn, and slam the door shut…
I swipe my wet cheekbones, and climb into the jeep.
What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to survive a world like this on my own? I may be in my 20’s, but as a hunter, I still need their guidance, I still need their learning from my culture…
I inhale deeply, and exhale puffing whilst I brush the glass further off me.
How is this possible? I mean yes, frankly, I remember the virus spreading the news, and I also remember my parents warning me about leaving the house, but this… this is something mother nature, have no control over.
I twist the key in the ignition, and the old jeep roars to life, I change the gears to reverse and step on the pedals, growling fills the air as soon as I reverse, into the open, dead road, I change the gears, and ref the old jeep into the open.***
Mom and dad were hunters…
I particularly am good in bows, crossbows, learning to be an elite hunter is all I dream about, and for generations, our families have walked the path of hunting…
I have experienced many things in my life, but never something like this before and this life, are going to be one heck of a fight.
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