It was silent. Not the kind of silence that you hear when everything is still. It was the kind of silence you hear when everything's dead. I was getting concerned, not just for my own sake, but for humanity's. I hadn't seen a human in days, and that was including zombies. It had gone beyond the point where I was afraid that I would die. It had gotten to the point that I was afraid the world would die. I smiled inwardly. Before the outbreak, I cowered away from deep thoughts. Anything that made me contemplate things I didn't understand I pushed out of my mind. But it was different now. Now, you either thought... or you died.
I wasn't sure where we were in Charston, and I didn't even know where the community center was. We rolled along the road, each bump rocking us in our seats. I looked back at Max, who was cleaning his double barreled shotgun. He was pretty attatched to that thing. Once I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him cradling it in his sleep and murmuring to himself. I would have asked him about it, but he had a bad temper and plenty of ammunition. A sudden crash behind me jolted me out of my thoughts. I looked behing the seat I was in, and saw that the back right window had been shot- no, smashed open. On the floor lay a brick. I peered out my window, and mouth gaping said, "Son of a..." That's as far as I got, because by then the tidal wave of bricks came crashing down on the car. Dents were made in the top of the car. Que swerved. "We got survivors!" "Angry survivors!" We made what would have been an illegal U-turn on a street. And that was when they started throwing molotovs. At that moment, I could have said a word relating to excrement, but I didn't. Because there was no room for words in what was about to happen next. I heard the crashing of the thick glass on our car, and then I saw the brilliant show of colors flare up in front of me. Que came to a screeching halt, and we all rolled out of the car inhumanly fast. "Run for cover!" Que shouted over the sound of gunfire. We all ran towards a huge building with faded letters over it. We bursted through the doors, and were greeted with an old song. Over the crackling loudspeakers above, we heard The Turtle's 'Happy Together' "you and me..." we walked with a slow pace into the building. "no matter how they toss the dice..." We walked down a long faded hallway with flickering flourescent lights above it. "we're made to be..." We entered a huge room that could have been a cafeteria. And above it we saw the words: 'Charston mental hospital.' "We're in an insane asylum?" Que muttered as we walked down the rows of tables. "Serves us right. Most of us are a little insane anyway." I laughed. I stopped laughing, but only because I heard a gun cock behind my head. "Keep laughing." Said the voice of a woman behind me. "You'll have no reason to laugh pretty soon." She snickered at what she thought was a joke. But I didn't think it was very funny at all. "So happy together..." I stood stock still. Que, Max and Grey stood with their guns pointed to her head. "You're outnumbered," Max said with a bitterness in his voice that was usually reserved for someone who had just punched you in the face. She laughed but didn't smile. "You? Think I'M outnumbered? I happen to know you were just ambushed by a rogue group of survivors. And guess what?..." She pressed her gun closer to my head. "They trust me." As if on cue, dozens of ratty torn people swarmed the room. For every one of us there was five of them. "So go ahead," She said with a sour-sweet note in her voice, "Shoot me." Realizing the frightening logic of her insanity, my friends put down their guns and slid them towards her. "Take them away." She said with disgust in her voice. As an old man started towards me, she blocked him. "EXCEPT.. him." The old man looked at me, then looked at her, shrugged, and walked away with the receding crowd. "Let's go for a walk." We walked down a dimly lit corridor with dried blood on the floor. "Do you know?" "What?" She stopped walking and looked at me. "The truth." "The truth about what?" She slapped me then and I tasted blood. Fed up with my ignorance, she began talking: "You may have heard on the radio that in nine days Charston will be carpet bombed to remove infected. And if you are uninfected, you should come to the Charston community center for evacuation." I nodded my head with acknowledgement. "LIES!" She screamed. Her talking got angrier and more frantic. "You see, our government is timid. The thought of a reinfection is too much for our fragile civilization to withstand. And so, all people who come to Charston for 'evacuation' will be slaughtered to prevent reinfection." It sounded far fetched, but I wouldn't put it past the officials. Generally they were willing to do anything to maintain order in society. "I happen to know that in two day's time we will be swarmed with a SWAT team to remove all supposedly infected. I will pick You and your friends to be saved from this. You're welcome." She turned and walked off without another word. I wondered if she was telling the truth. But it didn't matter. All I wanted to do was get out of there.
I wasn't sure where we were in Charston, and I didn't even know where the community center was. We rolled along the road, each bump rocking us in our seats. I looked back at Max, who was cleaning his double barreled shotgun. He was pretty attatched to that thing. Once I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him cradling it in his sleep and murmuring to himself. I would have asked him about it, but he had a bad temper and plenty of ammunition. A sudden crash behind me jolted me out of my thoughts. I looked behing the seat I was in, and saw that the back right window had been shot- no, smashed open. On the floor lay a brick. I peered out my window, and mouth gaping said, "Son of a..." That's as far as I got, because by then the tidal wave of bricks came crashing down on the car. Dents were made in the top of the car. Que swerved. "We got survivors!" "Angry survivors!" We made what would have been an illegal U-turn on a street. And that was when they started throwing molotovs. At that moment, I could have said a word relating to excrement, but I didn't. Because there was no room for words in what was about to happen next. I heard the crashing of the thick glass on our car, and then I saw the brilliant show of colors flare up in front of me. Que came to a screeching halt, and we all rolled out of the car inhumanly fast. "Run for cover!" Que shouted over the sound of gunfire. We all ran towards a huge building with faded letters over it. We bursted through the doors, and were greeted with an old song. Over the crackling loudspeakers above, we heard The Turtle's 'Happy Together' "you and me..." we walked with a slow pace into the building. "no matter how they toss the dice..." We walked down a long faded hallway with flickering flourescent lights above it. "we're made to be..." We entered a huge room that could have been a cafeteria. And above it we saw the words: 'Charston mental hospital.' "We're in an insane asylum?" Que muttered as we walked down the rows of tables. "Serves us right. Most of us are a little insane anyway." I laughed. I stopped laughing, but only because I heard a gun cock behind my head. "Keep laughing." Said the voice of a woman behind me. "You'll have no reason to laugh pretty soon." She snickered at what she thought was a joke. But I didn't think it was very funny at all. "So happy together..." I stood stock still. Que, Max and Grey stood with their guns pointed to her head. "You're outnumbered," Max said with a bitterness in his voice that was usually reserved for someone who had just punched you in the face. She laughed but didn't smile. "You? Think I'M outnumbered? I happen to know you were just ambushed by a rogue group of survivors. And guess what?..." She pressed her gun closer to my head. "They trust me." As if on cue, dozens of ratty torn people swarmed the room. For every one of us there was five of them. "So go ahead," She said with a sour-sweet note in her voice, "Shoot me." Realizing the frightening logic of her insanity, my friends put down their guns and slid them towards her. "Take them away." She said with disgust in her voice. As an old man started towards me, she blocked him. "EXCEPT.. him." The old man looked at me, then looked at her, shrugged, and walked away with the receding crowd. "Let's go for a walk." We walked down a dimly lit corridor with dried blood on the floor. "Do you know?" "What?" She stopped walking and looked at me. "The truth." "The truth about what?" She slapped me then and I tasted blood. Fed up with my ignorance, she began talking: "You may have heard on the radio that in nine days Charston will be carpet bombed to remove infected. And if you are uninfected, you should come to the Charston community center for evacuation." I nodded my head with acknowledgement. "LIES!" She screamed. Her talking got angrier and more frantic. "You see, our government is timid. The thought of a reinfection is too much for our fragile civilization to withstand. And so, all people who come to Charston for 'evacuation' will be slaughtered to prevent reinfection." It sounded far fetched, but I wouldn't put it past the officials. Generally they were willing to do anything to maintain order in society. "I happen to know that in two day's time we will be swarmed with a SWAT team to remove all supposedly infected. I will pick You and your friends to be saved from this. You're welcome." She turned and walked off without another word. I wondered if she was telling the truth. But it didn't matter. All I wanted to do was get out of there.