It started as the typical outbreak. Science goes wrong, it leaks out, it spreads. The typical overdone outbreak. By outbreak, I mean, national pandemic, George Romero zombie apocalypse. However, I think what separates this from any Day of the Dead situation is that they aren’t dead. Anyone affected is alive. They’re vicious, in control, and they’re well aware of what they are doing.
I should probably give complete and total backstory.
It began, as the news told, as a new strand of rabies found in some remote, off the map, foreign country. Of course, one person got bit, incubated it, then went batshit and started tearing apart everyone within reach, yadda yadda. They aren’t undead either, they still talk to you, trying to convince you to leave wherever you’re held up. Before the news completely blinked out days ago, you could hear them whispering to the news reporters, begging for help then just…tore into them.
They’re smart. Eerily smart. They know just exactly where to find people. I could hear them making rounds along my apartment complex, banging hard on doors, and begging for people to give them water, some scraps of food, anything to get people to open the doors. Whenever some unsuspecting idiot would grant them access, I’d hear nothing but screams. They laugh, too. Horse, throaty laughs. Rather unsettling.
I don’t know why my apartment hasn’t been touched yet. I know they’re a few floors below. I can still hear screaming.
I haven’t heard from them for about a day. Slept a little while without interruption. I haven’t fully slept since this whole thing started…last month? I forget. The complex’s backup generator is still running, so I was able to at least make coffee using spare water bottles to keep myself up. There’s still no sound of them and it’s roughly 8 am, maybe 8:30. This has been the longest I’ve gone without hearing the screams or the laughter, or their begging for help. Maybe they left. It’s weird to finally have a quiet home where the only sound is the clock on the wall ticking the seconds. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The laughter is back.
Sounds like they’re on the floor below me.
It’s been three days and they’re still below me. It only sounds like two, I can only make out a male and a female voice. I’ve only heard one scream from the apartment directly under mine. It was grotesque and short, died out (no pun) with a wet gurgle. It twisted my stomach and I had to force down the need to retch. I’ve made sure to keep extremely quiet in the hopes it wouldn’t alarm them and hasten their venture up here. I know they’ll be at my door soon.
June 22 (evening)
They’re here. I can hear them right outside my door, in the hallway. I’m keeping myself in the bathroom, the door is sturdy and my own weight should be enough. I’m not sure exactly how strong they are, but I don’t want to risk being caught in the open for when they break down the door. I’m hoping they see there’s no one in the living room and become content with that.
They’re in my apartment. I can hear them rooting around, opening drawers and throwing things on the floor. I think they’re in the kitchen because I can hear the rattling of dishes. They keep crashing around and laughing. Just laughing. I think they finally left the kitchen. I can’t tell where they are in my apartment now. Probably the bedroom The rummaging sounds have gotten quieter. The laughing has grown quieter as well.
June 23 (Afternoon)
They’ve gone in and out of my apartment all day. I’ve heard the door slam shut every time they left. They’ve been gone from my apartment for about 2 hours. I considered leaving the bathroom to grab a few bottles of water, but I thought against it. They were smart and were probably just waiting for me to make myself known. I tried the sink for water but nothing came out. Great.
June 23 (Night)
They found me. I had snuck out to snag a water bottle from the kitchen when I ran face to face with one of those beasts. He had been bent over in my fridge, quietly rummaging through what I had left in there. He turned toward me with a dirt-caked face and bloodshot eyes. His mouth twisted up in this smiling snarl to reveal chipped dirty teeth. I ran back to the bathroom, leaving him to chase after me and slip on the kitchen tile like Bambi on ice. I scampered into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I locked it quickly and climbed into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain shut to create a fake second barrier between me and the thing outside. He slammed his weight into the door, twisting at the handle. Each slam left the small room shaking. This lasted for about five minutes and just suddenly stopped.
June 24 (Early morning)
He’s still outside. He’s been laughing for about 20 minutes now. It started out as slow and drawn out, now it’s like a high pitched and fast cackle. He’s started fumbling with the knob again. He would reach his fingers under the crack of the door and claw at the floor, too. He just won’t stop that fucking laughing.
It’s been a few minutes. He’s stopped laughing. He’s now begging me for water. Saying please, please help me, I need water. I’m clutching at the near empty bottle I stole from the kitchen. He just won’t stop begging me. I don’t know what to do.
The door suddenly came unlocked. He’s inside, his footsteps thundering in the small, quiet bathroom. I can’t write any m