Short Story : Outbreak Or Breakout?
The darkness enveloped the room like some sort of a tomb, in spite of the fact that the room Simon found himself in was brightly illuminated with halogen bulbs. It was a darkness of the soul rather than an actual physical darkness, and the fear that rattled round inside Simon’s head had almost taken full hold of him.
It wasn’t as if he were alone either. There were others in the room, all of them in varying stages of decay caused by the virus that had slowly but surely begun to destroy their bodies and their minds. Simon stared at the woman closest to him; a woman who was probably pretty attractive before the infection had taken hold of her, but now she just stared blankly across the room at the bars on the windows, a trickle of drool running down her pouty lips and onto her scabby chin. She may have once been the prom queen of whatever the English equivalent might have been, but it was doubtful that anyone would want to put their crown on her head ever again, if you get my meaning.
Simon looked down into his lap, staring at his hands that were resting there. A slight crustiness had started to form on his palms and in the webbing of his fingers, but nothing compared to the other people on his ward. His hands just looked like he had a slight case of eczema, whereas the majority of the rest of the people on his ward looked like they had it on a Biblical scale; eczema by way of leprosy.
He thought back on how he’d ended up in the ward, a place he was starting to think of with full leading capital letters, as in ‘The Ward’. He’d been grabbed by a team of soldiers who had seemed to come from nowhere as he’d been heading home from school on his bicycle. The bike hadn’t made it through the attack, but somehow Simon had managed to survive.
He had no idea what might have become of his family, but he hadn’t seen any of them on The Ward. That could be considered either a good or a bad thing, depending on how you looked at it. So far Simon had considered it a good thing; even if they were dead, at least they weren’t infected.
Simon had seen one other person he’d known on The Ward; a girl from his class, Cassandra. In spite of her name, Simon guessed she hadn’t seen this day coming. He chuckled, the sound echoing throughout The Ward, but only a handful of patients so much as glanced up as the sound reverberated off the walls.
Cassandra had been a pretty girl, had being the operative word. Her hair, which had once been shiny and glossy, was now matted and layered, plastered to her skull in places where grease had accumulated over the period she’d been kept on The Ward, however long that might have been. Her eyes, which he remembered used to sparkle when she laughed, were now dull and flat, barely any life showing in them now that they had started to sink into her skull. Her lips were still full, but were now cracked and blistered from lack of water. Simon licked his own lips, which had started to feel dry since yesterday afternoon. No-one had been in to give them food or water since the previous morning, and Simon was starting to worry that no-one was going to come back for him and that he’d die of dehydration.
Deciding that sitting around doing nothing wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Simon placed his bum on the edge of his bed and scooched off the side until his bare feet were touching the cold floor. His legs felt wobbly as he used them for the first time that day, but after flexing his toes a number of times he was finally ready to walk.
It was slow going as Simon crossed The Ward to the main doors. He passed a number of patients that were a little more alert than he’d gotten used to, some of them sniffing expectantly as he passed them by. He thought back to all the horror movies he’d ever seen that involved this sort of thing, shuddering as he thought about what could have happened to him if he hadn’t been infected. It seemed that the others on The Ward could smell the infection on him, and as a result they ignored his presence, assuming he was one of them. If only they ignored him entirely and didn’t sniff for him first, Simon thought to himself, then the whole scenario wouldn’t have been quite so unnerving.
On reaching the doors to The Ward, Simon peered through the frosted glass of the wire-meshed window. There was no activity beyond the doors, literally nothing happening outside of The Ward.
So where had all the doctors and nurses gone? Why had the occupants of The Ward been left on their own, with no-one to ensure their well-being?
Simon’s heart sank.
Clearly whoever was in charge had decided they were passed caring for. Someone high up had made the decision to leave the hospital unattended and to worry about the uninfected instead of those beyond true redemption. His eyes twitched a little as he felt tears pricking their corners.
He was alone.
Alone and isolated with no-one for company other than the rest of the infected, all of whom were far further gone than he was.
Simon reached for the handle of the door, expecting to feel the resistance of a firm lock but, to his surprise, the door swung easily open as he pulled it towards him. His brow furrowed, he glanced back over his shoulder at the other patients in The Ward, but only one or two of them had even noticed what Simon was doing, while others hadn’t even realised he so much as existed. Simon took a deep breath, easing the door slightly further open, then slipped quietly into the corridor.
In all the scary movies Simon had ever seen, the hospital corridors would have been damaged, the lights would be flickering from lack of repair, but this was in many ways more terrifying. The lights were bright and steady, the corridor neat and tidy, which made its emptiness all the more nerve racking. Simon swallowed nervously before continuing down the corridor, heading to the nearest lift. It was like that scene at the beginning of Resident Evil, where you think the main woman is going to be okay, but then the inevitable happens...
Simon pressed the button to call the carriage, waiting patiently and glancing over his shoulder at The Ward he’d just vacated. He could see quite clearly through the frosted windows, where the other patients hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid at his absence. Turning back to the lift, he stared at the floor light, waiting for it to hit his floor.
Ping!
Simon’s nostrils flared as he jumped slightly at the sudden sound of the lift arriving and, as the doors opened, he stopped inside and turned to face the buttons, pressing the one for the ground floor. As the doors eased shut, Simon looked towards The Ward through the closing doorway, noticing that some of the patients had turned their heads towards the door.
Had they heard the lift arrive?
Simon didn’t have time to worry about that as the doors closed firmly shut and the lift started to descend to the ground floor.
As the pinging sound of the lift arriving at its destination echoed through Simon’s head, he cautiously watched the lift doors open onto the main reception area.
He walked into the empty reception area, the only sign of people having been there was the odd wheelchair positioned slightly out of place from where they should normally have been kept. Simon glanced from left to right, checking the coast for any sign of life, or something resembling life in any case.
There was nothing.
Taking another deep breath, fearing that the sound of his heavy sighs might attract unwanted attention, Simon continued shambling towards the main doors and headed out onto the street.
Like the hospital he’d just vacated, the streets were largely deserted. It seemed ridiculous to Simon that a practically empty hospital would keep all of its patients in a single ward, but now that he looked at the car park his fears grew even more so. Aside from three ambulances parked near the front of the building, the entire car park was deserted.
Simon shook his head, mumbling softly to himself. He was passed caring if anyone heard him, seeing as there didn’t appear to be anyone else about. The fact that it seemed that the entire population of West London had upped sticks in the night and headed who-knows where was enough to almost permanently unhinge him. What if there had been a mass exodus of the city, like during World War II? Or what if everyone was dead?
No, he told himself, if everyone was dead there’d be bodies.
Wouldn’t there?
Unless the infected had already gotten to them.
And what? Eaten them?
He’d heard rumours before he’d been quarantined about the infected attacking animals and picking them clean, but never anything about them attacking other people. Yet wouldn’t that be the next logical step? Simon chuckled; only with recent events circling in your mind could you consider cannibalism to be the next logical step for humankind.
As these thoughts ran through his mind, he heard a noise coming from the sky. He glanced up into the clouds, holding his scabby hand up to shield his eyes, and saw a number of black planes flying in formation overhead.
Was this an invasion?
Or was it a mass culling? Would the planes just start dropping bombs, carpet bombing the entire city until everything was levelled to the ground?
As he pondered what was going to happen to him, he noticed a strange silhouette floating down from the sky, a silhouette that was distinctly person shaped and entirely un-plane shaped.
As Simon saw the figure land in the car park just a few feet away from him, he decided that his mind had finally snapped. The winged figure tipped its head at him, as if doffing a hat in greeting, then started walking towards him.
“Good afternoon,” the winged figure smiled as it walked into the light and Simon could finally see its face. Oddly, though the figure was humanoid, he couldn’t tell if it was male or female as its features appeared to flicker in and out. Finally they settled, and Simon’s jaw dropped when he saw who the figure looked like.
“I know,” the figure said dryly when he saw Simon’s expression, “it’s a lot to take on board at such short notice, isn’t it?”
“What’s going on?” Simon shook his head, “Who... what are you? Why do you look like... that?”
“This face is supposed to calm people down,” the figure told him, “clearly it’s not working.”
“What’s going on?” Simon asked again.
The figure smiled, flexing its wings, “It’s a long story,” the figure told Simon, “but we have plenty of time to explain. You were part of the Zombie Apocalypse Explanation, correct?”
“Zombie Apocalypse Explanation?” Simon repeated, thinking it sounded like an episode title from ‘The Big Bang Theory’, “What are you talking about?”
“Well, we’ve tried a number of methods to explain what’s happening,” the figure explained, pointing into the sky, “that’s the Invading Hoards Explanation. That works reasonably well on small parties. For larger unrelated numbers we used the old Zombie Apocalypse routine to get you all together, but it seems to have... broken most of the others. I’m not sure if we can fix that.”
“So... what is this?” Simon asked, “What is actually happening here.”
“Come,” the figure smiled, holding out a hand to Simon, “I’ll show you.”
Simon took the figures hand and, as they touched, the two of them disappeared into a bolt of purple light and disappeared into the sky.
Originally Posted 23/11/2015
Result - 2nd Place
It wasn’t as if he were alone either. There were others in the room, all of them in varying stages of decay caused by the virus that had slowly but surely begun to destroy their bodies and their minds. Simon stared at the woman closest to him; a woman who was probably pretty attractive before the infection had taken hold of her, but now she just stared blankly across the room at the bars on the windows, a trickle of drool running down her pouty lips and onto her scabby chin. She may have once been the prom queen of whatever the English equivalent might have been, but it was doubtful that anyone would want to put their crown on her head ever again, if you get my meaning.
Simon looked down into his lap, staring at his hands that were resting there. A slight crustiness had started to form on his palms and in the webbing of his fingers, but nothing compared to the other people on his ward. His hands just looked like he had a slight case of eczema, whereas the majority of the rest of the people on his ward looked like they had it on a Biblical scale; eczema by way of leprosy.
He thought back on how he’d ended up in the ward, a place he was starting to think of with full leading capital letters, as in ‘The Ward’. He’d been grabbed by a team of soldiers who had seemed to come from nowhere as he’d been heading home from school on his bicycle. The bike hadn’t made it through the attack, but somehow Simon had managed to survive.
He had no idea what might have become of his family, but he hadn’t seen any of them on The Ward. That could be considered either a good or a bad thing, depending on how you looked at it. So far Simon had considered it a good thing; even if they were dead, at least they weren’t infected.
Simon had seen one other person he’d known on The Ward; a girl from his class, Cassandra. In spite of her name, Simon guessed she hadn’t seen this day coming. He chuckled, the sound echoing throughout The Ward, but only a handful of patients so much as glanced up as the sound reverberated off the walls.
Cassandra had been a pretty girl, had being the operative word. Her hair, which had once been shiny and glossy, was now matted and layered, plastered to her skull in places where grease had accumulated over the period she’d been kept on The Ward, however long that might have been. Her eyes, which he remembered used to sparkle when she laughed, were now dull and flat, barely any life showing in them now that they had started to sink into her skull. Her lips were still full, but were now cracked and blistered from lack of water. Simon licked his own lips, which had started to feel dry since yesterday afternoon. No-one had been in to give them food or water since the previous morning, and Simon was starting to worry that no-one was going to come back for him and that he’d die of dehydration.
Deciding that sitting around doing nothing wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Simon placed his bum on the edge of his bed and scooched off the side until his bare feet were touching the cold floor. His legs felt wobbly as he used them for the first time that day, but after flexing his toes a number of times he was finally ready to walk.
It was slow going as Simon crossed The Ward to the main doors. He passed a number of patients that were a little more alert than he’d gotten used to, some of them sniffing expectantly as he passed them by. He thought back to all the horror movies he’d ever seen that involved this sort of thing, shuddering as he thought about what could have happened to him if he hadn’t been infected. It seemed that the others on The Ward could smell the infection on him, and as a result they ignored his presence, assuming he was one of them. If only they ignored him entirely and didn’t sniff for him first, Simon thought to himself, then the whole scenario wouldn’t have been quite so unnerving.
On reaching the doors to The Ward, Simon peered through the frosted glass of the wire-meshed window. There was no activity beyond the doors, literally nothing happening outside of The Ward.
So where had all the doctors and nurses gone? Why had the occupants of The Ward been left on their own, with no-one to ensure their well-being?
Simon’s heart sank.
Clearly whoever was in charge had decided they were passed caring for. Someone high up had made the decision to leave the hospital unattended and to worry about the uninfected instead of those beyond true redemption. His eyes twitched a little as he felt tears pricking their corners.
He was alone.
Alone and isolated with no-one for company other than the rest of the infected, all of whom were far further gone than he was.
Simon reached for the handle of the door, expecting to feel the resistance of a firm lock but, to his surprise, the door swung easily open as he pulled it towards him. His brow furrowed, he glanced back over his shoulder at the other patients in The Ward, but only one or two of them had even noticed what Simon was doing, while others hadn’t even realised he so much as existed. Simon took a deep breath, easing the door slightly further open, then slipped quietly into the corridor.
In all the scary movies Simon had ever seen, the hospital corridors would have been damaged, the lights would be flickering from lack of repair, but this was in many ways more terrifying. The lights were bright and steady, the corridor neat and tidy, which made its emptiness all the more nerve racking. Simon swallowed nervously before continuing down the corridor, heading to the nearest lift. It was like that scene at the beginning of Resident Evil, where you think the main woman is going to be okay, but then the inevitable happens...
Simon pressed the button to call the carriage, waiting patiently and glancing over his shoulder at The Ward he’d just vacated. He could see quite clearly through the frosted windows, where the other patients hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid at his absence. Turning back to the lift, he stared at the floor light, waiting for it to hit his floor.
Ping!
Simon’s nostrils flared as he jumped slightly at the sudden sound of the lift arriving and, as the doors opened, he stopped inside and turned to face the buttons, pressing the one for the ground floor. As the doors eased shut, Simon looked towards The Ward through the closing doorway, noticing that some of the patients had turned their heads towards the door.
Had they heard the lift arrive?
Simon didn’t have time to worry about that as the doors closed firmly shut and the lift started to descend to the ground floor.
As the pinging sound of the lift arriving at its destination echoed through Simon’s head, he cautiously watched the lift doors open onto the main reception area.
He walked into the empty reception area, the only sign of people having been there was the odd wheelchair positioned slightly out of place from where they should normally have been kept. Simon glanced from left to right, checking the coast for any sign of life, or something resembling life in any case.
There was nothing.
Taking another deep breath, fearing that the sound of his heavy sighs might attract unwanted attention, Simon continued shambling towards the main doors and headed out onto the street.
Like the hospital he’d just vacated, the streets were largely deserted. It seemed ridiculous to Simon that a practically empty hospital would keep all of its patients in a single ward, but now that he looked at the car park his fears grew even more so. Aside from three ambulances parked near the front of the building, the entire car park was deserted.
Simon shook his head, mumbling softly to himself. He was passed caring if anyone heard him, seeing as there didn’t appear to be anyone else about. The fact that it seemed that the entire population of West London had upped sticks in the night and headed who-knows where was enough to almost permanently unhinge him. What if there had been a mass exodus of the city, like during World War II? Or what if everyone was dead?
No, he told himself, if everyone was dead there’d be bodies.
Wouldn’t there?
Unless the infected had already gotten to them.
And what? Eaten them?
He’d heard rumours before he’d been quarantined about the infected attacking animals and picking them clean, but never anything about them attacking other people. Yet wouldn’t that be the next logical step? Simon chuckled; only with recent events circling in your mind could you consider cannibalism to be the next logical step for humankind.
As these thoughts ran through his mind, he heard a noise coming from the sky. He glanced up into the clouds, holding his scabby hand up to shield his eyes, and saw a number of black planes flying in formation overhead.
Was this an invasion?
Or was it a mass culling? Would the planes just start dropping bombs, carpet bombing the entire city until everything was levelled to the ground?
As he pondered what was going to happen to him, he noticed a strange silhouette floating down from the sky, a silhouette that was distinctly person shaped and entirely un-plane shaped.
As Simon saw the figure land in the car park just a few feet away from him, he decided that his mind had finally snapped. The winged figure tipped its head at him, as if doffing a hat in greeting, then started walking towards him.
“Good afternoon,” the winged figure smiled as it walked into the light and Simon could finally see its face. Oddly, though the figure was humanoid, he couldn’t tell if it was male or female as its features appeared to flicker in and out. Finally they settled, and Simon’s jaw dropped when he saw who the figure looked like.
“I know,” the figure said dryly when he saw Simon’s expression, “it’s a lot to take on board at such short notice, isn’t it?”
“What’s going on?” Simon shook his head, “Who... what are you? Why do you look like... that?”
“This face is supposed to calm people down,” the figure told him, “clearly it’s not working.”
“What’s going on?” Simon asked again.
The figure smiled, flexing its wings, “It’s a long story,” the figure told Simon, “but we have plenty of time to explain. You were part of the Zombie Apocalypse Explanation, correct?”
“Zombie Apocalypse Explanation?” Simon repeated, thinking it sounded like an episode title from ‘The Big Bang Theory’, “What are you talking about?”
“Well, we’ve tried a number of methods to explain what’s happening,” the figure explained, pointing into the sky, “that’s the Invading Hoards Explanation. That works reasonably well on small parties. For larger unrelated numbers we used the old Zombie Apocalypse routine to get you all together, but it seems to have... broken most of the others. I’m not sure if we can fix that.”
“So... what is this?” Simon asked, “What is actually happening here.”
“Come,” the figure smiled, holding out a hand to Simon, “I’ll show you.”
Simon took the figures hand and, as they touched, the two of them disappeared into a bolt of purple light and disappeared into the sky.
Originally Posted 23/11/2015
Result - 2nd Place
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