Surviving the Apocalypse: The story of the boy (part 3)

for Part 4, click here.
You are on Part 3.
for Part 2, click here.
for Part 1, click here.


Dawn was breaking over the city, bringing a lovely golden glow to the harbour and illuminating the buildings on the skyline. However, nobody seemed to notice. At first sight, the city looked relatively normal- a bit messy, broken glass here and there, total gridlock all throughout the major roads, and people ambling along. However, as you took a better look, you might notice the lifelessness in people’s eyes, and the slow lumbering gait they walked with. You could notice the blood spurts on the cars- and the hands, always the hands, smearing it around.
There were survivors. Some boarded up in buildings, others who sensed the gravity of the situation early and made it out on time. However, it was only the beginning. The beginning of the end.

The boy usually woke around 11 a.m., after dozing for a few hours. However, on this day he was up at 6:45. He was not sure why. Something must have woken him up, he reasoned.
He took out his headphones, and walked over to his computer, still wondering why he was up this early. He tried to check his email. The internet was still down. He turned on his TV. No picture. He decided he would pop downstairs and reset the wireless router, which usually did the trick when this sort of thing happened.
As he turned towards the door, he froze. He remembered why he had woken so early. It was the smell. That horrible, ungodly smell. His feet felt moist. Looking down, he saw why.
Blood. It had seeped under the door, and he had stepped in it on his way out of bed. Then he noticed the moans. The moans coming from outside the door. The Boy felt a trickle going down the inside of his leg. He only burned with shame for a second. There was no more time for shame.