Grey Matter; Prologue
Grey asphalt. Miles and miles of the substance used to connect human settlements to one another for faster transit with internal combustion driven vehicles, or alternatively electric ones. Now they only sat as a sad testament to human engineering as they lay barren and empty, covered in a thick layer of snow. I stopped for but a moment on my endless trek to adjust my black sunglasses slightly to alleviate the sun's burning rays reflecting off the bright snow against my tired eyes, intensified by the global warming that had stripped the U.V protection from the atmosphere and set the climate into the extremes, warm areas becoming deserts and cold areas becoming but dead tundras. I had just started winter break in high school as the 'Green flu' hit America, the media mirroring exactly what they had done for the 'Swine flu' a few years prior. I personally just blew it off as yet another giant over reaction to yet another almost harmless sickness, but stocking up on instant noodle packages and water just in case the market crashed as a result of the swarming mass of idiots panicking over absolutely nothing. I changed my outlook quickly when people started to 'vanish' or 'disappear' in my neighbourhood, acts of violence being blown off as rioting by the media. Oddly reminiscent of a 'Class 2 outbreak' in Max Brook's zombie survival guideBut that was fiction. Right?
Three days into the first week of the apocalypse my mother had gotten sick with it, her skin assuming a sickly grey tone as she lay in bed, in pain. The doctor announced my father and I were immune from the effects and should just keep her comfortable while it passed. It was then I knew the 'Green flu' was nothing to be discounted. It was then I knew the 'Green flu' had reached my front door. Looking online in the large search engines told of nothing, everything looking to be filtered by the U.S organization called 'CETA'. So I dug deeper. Asking my friend in Washington over STEAM about what was going on, he replied quickly and rushed, completely unlike him. He told me the army was setting up barricades everywhere, the president apparently haven been taken to an underground bunker of some sort. He told me that I should get out of Canada quickly and head for Washington D.C as fast as I could with the largest group of people I could muster with the largest amount of weapons we could find. I told him he was insane, that he was over reacting just like everyone else. He quit out of the program after that, and I never heard from him again. I had gathered a few essential objects such as a knife, a crowbar, a medical kit, water, a small amount of non perishable food and some navigational equipment all gathered in my small profile backpack, in the unlikely case that he was not insane. It was four days in when everything else went that way.
OoO
It was an normal enough morning, beginning with my father walking into my room at around 7:00am and whipping a spare pillow at my face before informing me that my coffee would be read in two minutes. Groaning and rubbing my eyes, I got dressed in my usual garb which included A grey zip up sweater with a bio-hazard insignia on the front embroidered in yellow with a dark blue t-shirt underneath and worn black jeans. Grumbling to myself about not going to bed at 3:00am, I made the arduous trek all the way to the wash-room just down the hall. Flipping on the dim lights brought my reflection into view. Looking back at me was a teenager at around five foot eight with medium length black messy hair and violet eyes. The colour being extremely rare in humans and I was often asked how or why I had them, or if I had colored contacts.
Running my hands through the mop currently situated on top of my head I rummaged around in the cabinet under the sink for my ever missing brush. "Well, looks like today I get to do absolutely nothing...again." I sighed, finding the brush and running it through my hair a few times slowly while whistling loudly, nearly making it look presentable. Deciding my mediocre job was satisfactory for my activities for the day, I quickly brushed my teeth and splashed a fair bit of water on my face before drying off to wake myself up. After my morning ritual was complete I approached the staircase that led to the first floor of my two story house, my stomach notifying me of the fact that I needed a meal of some sort. Reaching the said apparatus, I looked down and found a absolutely terrifying sight.
My father was laying on the stairs with a large gash in his stomach, which rose and fell slightly showing that he was alive. Running downstairs quickly I stared in horror at the carcase that was my mother, laying a few feet away from my father at the bottom with a knife stuck through her skull with blood and bile nearly coating her, a sickly white had clouded her eyes. "Holy fuck!" I yelled loudly, waking my father from his imposed unconscious state."Hey Reynt..." He muttered quietly, obviously fighting to stay awake now, most likely exhausted from blood loss. "What happened?" I nearly yelled as I sat down beside him and lifted his head off the stairs, now stained in his blood. "She...changed...attacked me...killed her..." He explained between hacking coughs, blood now dribbling out of the side of his mouth.
Chuckling slightly he sighed, now looking me directly in the eyes. "Looks like...your zombie apocalypse finally happened, huh?" He joked with a smile, he always knew how to change the worst situations into a joke. "Heh...yeah..." I choked, forcing a smile. It was obvious he was just hanging on now, and that there was nothing I could do for him as his blood stained my hands. "Listen...before she changed...we were watching the news..." He paused to turn his head away from me and give out a hacking cough, more blood spraying from his mouth onto the white carpet of the stairs, further staining them. "...and they said that they were setting up a safe zone in Washington D.C down in the states, something about immunes only being allowed in." He finished, letting out another wet cough to the side. "What are you talking about, I don't have anyway to get there!" I yelled back at him in desperation.
"Walk. Keep the sun in your eyes in the morning, right cheek at noon and at your back at sunset along the trans-Canada highway..." He stopped, eyes going wide for a second before drooping, a gurgling sound coming from his throat. He had drowned in his own blood. Sighing deeply, I slipped my fingers over his eyelids to close them. Getting up and walking into the kitchen showed where the coffee pot sat, still full of the last bit of humanity I was expecting to receive for a long time. I had a long day ahead of me. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet I filled it with the liquid caffeine and placed the cover over it, ensuring freshness and heat for a little while longer. After I had secured my drink I picked up the zombie survival guide sitting on the kitchen table from last night and flipped to the desired chapter: 'On the move.'
OoOoO
Screams filled the air for most of the day, sometimes even the occasional small and large calibre gunshot going off, indicating that some of the hunters in the area were attempting to ward off their changed loved ones with their rifles. The screaming died down after a while, only the odd breaking window could be heard off in the distance through the walls of my house as I prepared to move, running a check-list in my head of what I had acquired for my trek; A crowbar for getting doors and skulls open alike, a old combat knife for any miscellaneous purpose I needed it for, a two litre water bottle, my iPhone with a solar charger, a few sets of high quality ear-buds, a 'flint and steel' as my father called it, a extra change of clothing, a wind-up radio/flashlight in the case that anyone still alive wanted to send a signal or something and a small grey backpack to put it all into.
After going over everything in my head, I quickly packed up and turned to give my home one last look. The walls still showed signs of a struggle with dents lining most of them, My parents still lay where they fell, covered in blood like the stairwell and floor around them. Mirrors on the walls lay untouched, reflecting everything neatly. Suddenly an idea struck me. I went over to the desk that still sat in the living room and acquired a black paint marker, then turned to the wall nearest to the door. Stepping forward, I started writing.
OoOoOoO
Around five minutes later, I backed away from the wall and admired my handy work. On the wall I had written my name, age, what happened, where I was going and open permission to use the house for anything that anyone may want to. Placing the marker into my backpack that sat on the floor and going towards the wall closet near the door, I quickly donned my hiking boots and thin grey wind breaker over my thick sweater that was warm enough to be comfortable down to -45 degree Celsius weather, but was weak to wind, then moved on to pulling on my grey winter hiking pants. Then I took the balaclava off the hook next to the closet and slipped it on after placing a set of ear-buds into my ears, the smooth fabric barely noticeable against my skin, after which I put my sunglasses on before pulling on my grey snowboarding gloves, a very grippy surface on the bottom of each finger and on the palm area.
Satisfied with my work I took one last look around. This time my eyes fell onto the mirror attached to the wall nearest to me. Looking back at me was an all grey clad figure with no skin showing. Nodding to myself for luck, I pulled on my backpack and picked up my crowbar. Stopping before I opened the door, I pulled out my iPhone and plugged the free hanging black wire from my balaclava and activated the shuffle music feature before slipping the device into my jean's pocket under my outer pants. Finished with the deed, Rise Against's prayer of the refugee started playing through the small speakers at one quarter volume. Smiling inwardly, I opened the door and looked around. My neighbourhood lay barren with bodies frozen in various positions as the snow fell softly, slowly covering the blood stains that lay around them. Grimacing at the sight, I locked the door and turned towards the broken city that was Airdrie and started walking.
"Warm yourself by the fire, son, And the morning will come soon... " The music started as I stepped off the front porch, my boots emitting a soft crunch as I set foot into the fresh snow, indicating the sub zero weather would most likely give anyone unprepared frostbite. The guide had said zombies freeze, right? Nodding to myself at the revelation, I slipped the crowbar through the slot meant for skate or snowboards and set off further down the driveway onto the road and started at a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "...And the morning will come soon. I'll tell you stories of a better time, In a place that we once knew. Before we packed our bags And left all this behind us in the dust, We had a place that we could call home, And a life no one could touch..."
End of prologue
And that, dear children is how you successfully make a L4D fic with no zombies in the first chapter.
Anyway, like my other fic, I'll only work on a second chapter when this gets at least one or two positive reviews.
Even if its not positive, flame away and tell me how much I suck at these kinds of things.
