This is how the world ends,
not with a bang, but a whimper
-T.S. Eliott
It was like a dream. Or rather, nightmare. An RNA virus, Flagg's Fever came upon us as a simple shower:
NASAIS File #27137711
Unpredicted meteor shower over the North Atlantic Europe and America. Dubris may also end up as far away as Senegal or Trinidad.
It wasn't uncommon for an unpredicted meteor shower. NASA Investigative Sevice was always legally obligated to conduct a scan of the sky. NASA Investigative Service was frankly, a team of volunteers that scanned the skies for any activity. They saved us innumerable times from large asteroids, but often times, they were called to investigate simple dust that fell from the heavens.
NASAIS File #27137711 cont.
No Alien contaminents. A Novel RNA Virus found. Nicknamed '#612177RF'. Deemed to be a Novel Non-Lethal RNA virus.
Now, that would be a shortcoming one could laugh at, if it were funny.
Flagg's Fever was similar to AIDS and Influenza, as it is a RNA virus. RNA viruses have the disturbing potential to evolve into new strains withindays. Overall, Flagg's fever's symptoms include high fever, necrosis, swelling, sweating, and vomiting. It had the evolutionary potential of Influenza, the lethality of AIDs, and the virulence of bubonic plague.
It was the Disease to end all diseases.
At the side of the pool, amongst the corpses of tanners and swimmers, Mark Lilly squats. He glared into the shimmering water. Between the corpses of children, he could see his reflection, eyes focused back on Mark. His brown bangs were combed over to the left of his head. His red polo shirt was stained with sweat and dust. It had been quite a few days since he left New York City.
Despite the piling bodies in this Pennsylvanian motel, New York City was overflowing with about 7-8 million dead humans. A Good 10,000 committed suicide, or were killed by rogue survivors. Flagg's Fever had a 100% kill rate, but some people reacted differently than others. As it turns out, some that survived the initial infection became insane, almost vampiristic. The disease was abusing the survivors to spread itself. Approximately 10% of all infected would react this way.
"Mark!" a voice hollered from behind Mark. Mark peeked over his shoulder. An elderly chinese man, Luoang Lao Shi, loads a gallon of water into the back of a pick up truck.
"We are leaving, pack up your things, we are heading out in a moment." he added. His grandson, Jake Long, leaped into the back of the pickup truck, with a bag of canned soup. The Two were leading a caravan into Rural Penn. Behind Mark and the Longs, there was a lobster-alien, Zoidberg, Some Rats, a highscooler Bill Hitchcock, and an Arthritic man, Richard Krupse.
As the Red Ford Pick-up exited the motel parking lot, so too followed a golf cart, a '58 Plymouth Fury, and Camouflage Jeep Cherokee.
Mark lifts his suitcase up over his head, standing in Battery Park on top of a crashed bus. Beside him, strung between a lamppost, a banner, which read; SOS! A survivor on Manhattan! He scanned the horizon, but saw absolutely nothing. No birds flying by, no ships in the harbor, not a single sound, save the lapping of waves and buzzing of flies. Mark fell back on his rump, and sighed. Even with the can-do attitude he normally possessed, thoughts of suicide rubbed his temples gently.
'Click clack, squeak squeak' came echoing down the cavernous streets. Mark leaps to his feet, flourishing his arms above his head.
"Hey, I'm here in Battery Park!" Mark shouted.
From behind the burnt skeleton of a skyscraper, an elderly Chinese man, cloaked in blue robes with golden cuffs, and an adolescent Chinese boy in a red jacket with gelled hair appeared. Mark threw himself forward. He landed upon a car hood, and leaped upon charred or decaying corpses. At any other time in his life, he would have cringed at the thought of even touching a dead body. He was too ecstatic to care that the bodies he was hoppig across were the people he knew and loved. He found more survivors.
"Hey, Hey!" Mark shouted. The teenager's face instantly transformed into a surprised one. He took a step back from the stranger, while the old man remained still. He glared at Mark with a stone-cold gaze. Before Mark came any closer, The old man held out a hand.
"Come no closer. Put your hands where I can see them." He commanded. Mark stood confused. Before his eyes, the elder transformed into a blue Chinese dragon. His companion followed suit, morphing into a red dragon. "Are you a friend or foe?" the Blue Dragon asks, assuming an offensive position.
Mark dropped on his knees. "I am a friend. I don't mean harm." The Dragon lowered his arms.
"Where are you heading?" The Blue dragon asked.
Mark got to his feet. "I was planning on staying here until the plague subsides." The Dragon shakes his head disapprovingly.
"That is a most foolish decision. Nobody can survive Flagg's Fever, that I am sure of." he explains in a gravelly voice.
Mark begins to lean back and forth. "Where are you going if the Fever is a Hundred percent lethal?"
The Old Dragon tousles his beard with a claw. "West. If we find a place with no dead, We'll stay there. Besides that we have nothing to do. We'll have to die someday. I'd rather it be somewhere away from all the others."
Mark inches closer. "May I join you. I truly just want to get away from this place."
The younger dragon glares at Mark. "How are you going to help us? You're just another survivor like us. There are already too many mouths to feed." He explodes, finally speaking. The Older Dragon puts an arm out infront of him.
"Hold your tongue, Jake. Be thankful we have another companion in this world." The Elderly dragon barks.
"Mark, as you are coming with us to safer lands, We should introduce ourselves." He puts a hand on the other dragon's shoulder. "This is my grandson, Jake. I am Lauong Lao Shi."
Mark smiles, glad to see another human again.
Zoidberg pulls some rats from the garbage. "Survivors!" shouts the Decapodian. He grabs them with his claws into a great bear hug. The tentacles above his mouth shudder.
The Rats squealed at him, "Let us go, or we will give you bubonic plague."
The alien kept his grip on the rodents. "I love you guys." A deerslug ricocheted off a trashcan next to them. Zoidbergs turns to see an middle-aged man, with short black hair gelled up into spikes. He wore a black tank top with a leather jacket over top and long black suit pants. He had a shotgun aimed right for the crustacean's head.
"Don't make this seem even more desperate by running." The man ordered. He had a thick German accent. Zoidberg and the rats uttered a squeal of fright. The Man edged closer, aiming the gun lower upon the Decapodian. With each move forward, Zoidberg moved back. The Man pumped the gun, when a claw from nowhere slices the barrel in half horizontally.
The Man jerks his head to the side, where Jake stood with his dragon claws unsheathed. "I wouldn't shoot if I were you." he threatens.
"Dis land is my land now. There are no laws to say it isn't." The man barks. Jake smiles.
"D'you wanna know what makes it no-man's-land?" Jake says smiling. He snatches the gun, and tosses it. It hits a man's body, which ripples with maggots.
"Look, I'm hungry. I am noot going to eat another human." He pleads.
"Eat pigeons. They're always better." Zoidberg adds.
"Well, my Grandfather and I are heading West, maybe to the Plains, or Canada. We already have another traveler, and there's protection in numbers." Jake offers. The Man glances at Zoidberg and the Rats.
"Alright." The Man agrees. He smiles, and laughs "My nom is Richard Krupse."
"I'm Zoidberg." Zoidberg chirps.
"We no really have names, but we want to join!" The Rats chime in. Jake begins walking away. The Five quickly puzzle over the Teenager's action. He turns to face them, and mutters, "Follow..."
All on the sides of the road, crashed cars, pulverised bodies, and all over the roadway, black vomit stains. The Rat's noses twitched eagerly at the reak of death. Mark stuck up his nose in disgust. People were allowed to die in these numbers, and remain there. Zoidberg followed each body with his beady little lobster eyes, locking onto one target, and then another, as they went. Billy glared at every body with worried eyes. Richard sat back in his seat, trying his best to ignore the overwhelming rot surrounding him. Jake glared at the corpses with a vigilant nervousness, as if they were going to strike him.
The Landscape was monotonous after a few miles; fence, dead cows, a farmer sprawled out on the road, fence, silo, barnyard, and repeat. A violet blanketed the world in inky darkness, with only a small star shedding light onto the world. Mark leaned back against the back cabin wall of the truck. Jake was asleep on a sack of flour. The Rats seemed unfazed, whilst the Decapodian clacked his claws in his sleep. Richard kept his eyes glued to the road. His old eyes were set back deep in his head, surrounded by deep purple bags. Mark could recognize them from somewhere, although Richard and him never spoke a word to Mark. He was only staring at the long road ahead. Single-mindedly driving.
Getting away from Hell.