---~---~---~---~---Part I---~---~---~---~---
Yesterday. All my troubles seemed so far away...
“Put the knife down, Blaine,” said the woman, an edge of fear to her voice. They were in their 42nd story apartment, high above the dead city below.
The man simply stared at her, a blank look in his eyes. In his hand a long, wicked blade was held, its edge a dull crimson color. The knife was a standard kitchen knife, typically used for meats and bones. As such, it was extremely sharp and dangerous.
“I have no intention of putting the knife down, Mel. Not until we’re finished here tonight will I put the knife down.” His normal talking voice seemed slightly different.
Blaine was standing in the spacious kitchen, several feet from the crouched Melissa, but still dominating the apartment. The couple had been married for only a month and then it happened. One morning they woke up to find the city in panic. Newscasters reported for one day, calling it a massive outbreak of hysteria or an infection from bioterrorism or a plague from God. No one knew exactly what happened, but the news anchors would report more later, and later never came. All broadcasting—television, radio, Internet, and phone—ceased to function.
He started toward Melissa. “Blaine, please. Put down the knife. You’re scaring me.”
He turned his head at an angle, the way a dog does when it doesn’t understand something. He paused, smiling his dazzling smile. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t. You’ve been infected and I have to help you get better.”
Melissa was a cornered animal, literally trapped by two walls and a man with a bloody knife. Her husband walked slowly, and Melissa began thinking about a movie she saw as a child. In it, the dead had returned to life, walking slowly and hungering for flesh. He walks just like one of them, she thought.
And then he was upon her. Unable to flee, Melissa fought against her husband. She tried to swipe away his arms, and succeeded for a moment, but he was too powerful for her. Eventually his blade found its way into her ribs and she screamed in agony and anger. Fueled with adrenaline and something else deeper inside of her, she grabbed for a makeshift weapon. Grasping something, she pummeled her husband in the temple, dropping him to the ground.
The knife, now bright red, fell from his hand. Melissa was surprised to see in her hand a broken coffee mug. Hesitantly, she picked up the knife and took a step back. Her side was bleeding and there were several gashes on her arms.
And then it hit her. The smell was overpowering and her stomach was aching. How long had it been since she had eaten? She looked around for the source of the aroma and then her eyes fell upon Blaine. Slightly repulsed, she cautiously approached her fallen husband.
He was still alive! And he smelled fantastic.
“Poor Blainey. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t remember much afterwards, only that her hunger was slightly satiated. Only slightly. She walked slowly, ever so slowly, to the balcony and stared out at the dead city. It was dark, but full of noises. As the wind blew, Melissa caught a whiff of food in the air. She smiled, already hungry again.
The man simply stared at her, a blank look in his eyes. In his hand a long, wicked blade was held, its edge a dull crimson color. The knife was a standard kitchen knife, typically used for meats and bones. As such, it was extremely sharp and dangerous.
“I have no intention of putting the knife down, Mel. Not until we’re finished here tonight will I put the knife down.” His normal talking voice seemed slightly different.
Blaine was standing in the spacious kitchen, several feet from the crouched Melissa, but still dominating the apartment. The couple had been married for only a month and then it happened. One morning they woke up to find the city in panic. Newscasters reported for one day, calling it a massive outbreak of hysteria or an infection from bioterrorism or a plague from God. No one knew exactly what happened, but the news anchors would report more later, and later never came. All broadcasting—television, radio, Internet, and phone—ceased to function.
He started toward Melissa. “Blaine, please. Put down the knife. You’re scaring me.”
He turned his head at an angle, the way a dog does when it doesn’t understand something. He paused, smiling his dazzling smile. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t. You’ve been infected and I have to help you get better.”
Melissa was a cornered animal, literally trapped by two walls and a man with a bloody knife. Her husband walked slowly, and Melissa began thinking about a movie she saw as a child. In it, the dead had returned to life, walking slowly and hungering for flesh. He walks just like one of them, she thought.
And then he was upon her. Unable to flee, Melissa fought against her husband. She tried to swipe away his arms, and succeeded for a moment, but he was too powerful for her. Eventually his blade found its way into her ribs and she screamed in agony and anger. Fueled with adrenaline and something else deeper inside of her, she grabbed for a makeshift weapon. Grasping something, she pummeled her husband in the temple, dropping him to the ground.
The knife, now bright red, fell from his hand. Melissa was surprised to see in her hand a broken coffee mug. Hesitantly, she picked up the knife and took a step back. Her side was bleeding and there were several gashes on her arms.
And then it hit her. The smell was overpowering and her stomach was aching. How long had it been since she had eaten? She looked around for the source of the aroma and then her eyes fell upon Blaine. Slightly repulsed, she cautiously approached her fallen husband.
He was still alive! And he smelled fantastic.
“Poor Blainey. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t remember much afterwards, only that her hunger was slightly satiated. Only slightly. She walked slowly, ever so slowly, to the balcony and stared out at the dead city. It was dark, but full of noises. As the wind blew, Melissa caught a whiff of food in the air. She smiled, already hungry again.
