I should probably stop starting new fanfictions, but what the hell? I am going to do it. I hope you like this story. Science is not my best subject, just for future reference. Please read and review!
There is no truly selfless deed. There is always gratification that correlates with an action. Rather, when people don't consciously realize the effect of an act that they committed, then it is selfless. I always believed that people who said that they are selfless are very selfish. It is not like it's a bad thing. It's just that people associate selfishness with a negative trait. I think that is not the whole truth to the subject. For example, a fireman or policeman risk their lives in order to save lives. People automatically draw a conclusion that they a selfless because they put other people before themselves. I argue that they are full of selfishness. It is because they want to save other lives that makes them selfish. They gain some form of happiness from their job when rescuing someone. They thrive on it and that makes them selfish. Like I said earlier, it is not a bad thing. Not everything is black and white. There is always gray. This is my opinion. This is how I view the world. Now, this is another thing that I think. People are only selfless when they don't know what they did. It is only when they obtain the knowledge that they helped someone and feel joy from it when everything changes. If you are following, then you must have figured out that in some way, everyone is a little selfless and that is correct. Then the first thing I said must be wrong, but like I mentioned, shades of gray exist.
I am alone. I have been ever since the "Deceased". That's the term that was invented and spread when the electricity still worked. When there were still titles in the world. I don't know how it began. All I know is that it started aggressively. One day, it was all fine. People did what they did every day. Jobs, schools, and other things. Everything was normal. The next day, things altered drastically. I woke up from the screams. They were coming from outside until they came from the inside of my house. I remember that I scrambled for the lights. I knocked over my lamp, shattering it. I didn't care though because the yelling was coming closer. I was going to turn on the light switch but my door had swung open. A figure loomed over the threshold. It was too dark to recognize who it was, but I still pushed myself father away from the person. I felt scared. Then the person turned on the lights.
"Ciel, get your clothes on! We have to leave right now! Come on!" My mother howled at me. She raced toward my closet, tossing whatever was closer to her in my direction. I fumbled for a second but got my bearings straight and slipped a t-shirt and some pants on. I quickly put my sneakers on, standing up and walking to my mom. She was panicking, whispering things to herself, as if she was trying to figure things out.
"Mom? What's going on?" I asked. She turned to me, her eyes crazy and filled with unshed tears. She blinked and returned to normal.
"Something is wrong outside. We have to get out of here before they come in here." She took my hand, leading me down the stairs into the living room. The lights in the house were off, which only added more anxiety.
"Where's dad?" I looked around, trying to see if he was sitting down or hiding. The screeches outside were becoming louder.
"He went to go find out what's -" She said until the door broke down. I jumped back in fright. My dad was under something. He was struggling, and he was losing his ground. I reacted quickly, grabbing my guitar that laid against the wall and hit the thing. It faltered, and it was enough time for my dad to get away. He stood up, pushing me back as he guarded me and my mother from the thing, which had erected itself, revealing what it actually was. My neighbor. Mr. Evans. Except, it wasn't him. He looked weird, awful, inhumane. His eyes weren't just red. They were overflowing with blood. The cornea and iris were completely covered in blood. His jaw seemed unhinged but that could have happened from the teeth in his mouth. They were bigger, grotesque. His skin was pasty. He looked like a monster.
My attention was ripped from his appearance as he lunged forward. My dad held his ground, trying to push Mr. Evans. My mom grabbed onto me, pulling both me and her away from the two. I broke free from her grip. I couldn't just stand there and watch my dad fight without helping. I scanned the room for anything and settled for my fencing gear. I broke the flimsy part, keeping the now more sturdy weapon. I ran to my dad, shouting for him to move. He turned to look at me, and that's when he bit him. I stopped in my tracks. My dad's eyes were shocked and he weakly tried to shove it away from him. In return, Mr. Evans bit his wrist, tearing the flesh apart. My dad was in so much pain, yet he released no sound. He met my eyes and mouthed, "Guns. Get the guns. In basement. Save...yourself. Protect..." Then he became limp. Blood started to seep out from his mouth, ears, and eyes. Mr. Evans dropped my now convulsing dad, facing me and my mom. I reached for her hand that was behind me. I gripped it, stepping backwards. We slowly moved to the door that led to the basement. We were making some headway until he turned to us. A terrible noise escaped his mangled lips and jumped forward. I held up my sword. It wasn't a good enough weapon. It caved in, deflecting against him. He tried to grab me but I moved out of the way causing him to collapse. I grit my teeth, stealing the idea I had in mind. I switched my grip to holding the sword part. I slammed the hilt to Mr. Evans' head before he got up. Over and over again, I did it till it broke his scalp. He stopped twitching and laid motionless. I glanced up, my mom not in view. She reappeared with all of our weaponry in bags and one in her hand. We hunted regularly and guns were not foreign to us. I was breathing hard as I stood up. I walked over to my mom, transferring the guns to my shoulder rather than hers.
"Mom, we have to go. You can drive first. We will switch off when you get tired. Maybe the radio will tell us what's going on," I said, moving to the garage. I sounded calm, but I wasn't. I was petrified and in grief. My father... That's when I heard my mother's cry. I dropped the bags, spinning around to find my dad up. His arms were wrapped around mom, and his teeth sheathed in her shoulders. He looked exactly like Mr. Evans.
"Ciel! Go!" She sobs. "Be safe!" Her life was coming to an end. Dad kept ripping her skin. I turn and locate the keys and get in the car. I had pressed the button to the garage and as I wait for it to come up, I take out a hand-gun. I load up the bullets, taking the safety off. Finally, the door reaches the top and I pull out. I take in my surroundings and I feel the will to live wilt. People are running. There is blood everywhere. Cars have crashed into one another. Bodies cover the ground. I peel away and start to drive. They are coming after me, and I press the gas petal even more. The radio goes off and on, but I do get the gist of what is happening. Something went wrong. It infected the blood bags that was used for transfusions. When the hospital started to use the bags, the people began to change. What the infection did was speed up the red blood cells, causing them to reproduce at an alarming rate. Like cancer in a sense. That is why the infected people were gushing out blood. It was because the body couldn't hold all the new blood. It began to flow out through every open wound or any body part that would allow it to, hence the eyes and mouth. The blood filled up all the organs. The brain was the last to go. But, technically, it didn't. The infection didn't just speed the process, it morphed the nucleus of the cell. The DNA was rewritten. As it reached the upper cavity of the body, the cells latched on to the brain. Then something happened. It shuts down the system. Then it reboots. In terms for a human, it killed them but brought them back to life. Yet they weren't humans anymore. They were like zombies. They were infected. They were called the "Decease".
I was seventeen when the epidemic broke out. A teenager when I lost everything. A boy when I became alone.