Chapter 1
To say the world fell into chaos would be a complete and total lie. The world was anything but orderly and perfect to begin with, so to say that things are now the opposite is bullshit. People killed people every day for ridiculous reasons. Some killed for money, some for drugs, and some because they just damn well felt like it. People are still killing people. Nothing's changed.
Okay, so maybe some things have changed. People are no longer killing over money, since it's worth absolutely nothing now. People are still killing for drugs, technically, but for better reasons. I'm talking about ibuprofen and antibiotics and things like that. Soccer-mom type drugs. As for fun, I'm sure there are a few psychos out there getting giddy off slicing throats. Nowadays, it's not uncommon for someone to lose their mind. I almost wish I had. Maybe then dealing with everything would be easier. The thing is, though, you have to be willing to kill someone in order to survive. I don't care how good of a person you think you are. If you hesitate, you will die. If you think too much, you will die. Survival leaves no room for morality. You either kill or get killed. That's how things are right now, and that's probably how they'll always be from now on.
It all happened so fast. One minute, you're in a cell at the Newport City Corrections Facility for Minors and the next thing, the alarm goes off and you watch as people eat other people. Later you learn that those people weren't really people. They were corpses. I heard a few people refer to them as Biters. They used to be people because they used to be alive. Then post-mortem they rose and hungered for any living thing they could get their teeth into. But if I've learned anything over the past few years, it's that the real monsters have always been, and always will be, the living.
The first winter was the hardest. It got so cold, and most of the houses and buildings had broken windows and no way of keeping even the faintest feeling of warmth inside. During the first snowstorm, I was somewhere in Connecticut. I was in a small abandoned town when I found an old furniture store. It was tiny, probably owned by one of the locals. The sign on top said "Larry's Furniture Store". The window was dusty, but to my luck, not broken. Before picking the front door lock, I knocked on the glass and ran behind a car. Either the building was locked to keep degenerates like myself out, or keep Biters in. The silence lingered for a few minutes, and then I finally picked the lock and went inside. I always carried my lock picking kit with me, it was as essential to my survival as food or water. I locked the door behind me to prevent anyone else from coming in. I brushed the snow off my shoulders and hair as I walked around. I found an old floral couch in the back with plastic seat covers. While it was the ugliest piece of furniture in the place it was the cleanest and had almost zero traces of dust upon removal of the plastic cover. I was about to sit down when I heard scratching behind a door, followed by the groans of the dead. I slowly pulled out my hunting knife and readied myself for the attack. I slowly turned the doorknob, which surprisingly wasn't locked. I quickly opened the door and stood back. A biter came out and fell face first to the floor. One stab to the head was all it took. I flipped it over to get a look, and there was a nametag that said "Larry". Well, that certainly solved that mystery didn't it?
There were no other doors or hidden rooms in the place, so I finally decided to take a break. I found a vending machine and a cooler of water, so I stocked up and headed to the ugly couch. I filled my backpack with candy, granola bars, and filled up two bottles with water. The place seemed perfect to me, despite the dust and really out of date furniture. I wondered what the date was. I tried to figure out how long the winter would continue to last, but it was useless. Winter was always the longest season, and it would still be cold for another month or two after. I lied down on my back, staring at the ceiling as I tried to figure out the date. It was no longer December, I was sure, but it didn't seem like it was February quite yet. I tried thinking of the amount of snowstorms that could be left, and how I could safely travel in the cold without getting caught outside in one of them. I dozed off before I could really make any progress, with a half-eaten Hershey bar in my hand.
When I woke up the next morning, the snow had stopped. I got up and walked towards the window. Everything was quiet, no Biters or humans anywhere. I went back to my couch and sat down. I took off my jacket for a minute, and rolled up my sleeve. The store was still cold, but it beat the frozen hell that was outside. I took off the bandage that covered the deep cut on my arm, and the bleeding had stopped. However, without stitches, it would probably bleed again and get infected. I had received it a few days before, but couldn't find a moment's peace to stich the sucker up. I had a small box of medical supplies in my backpack. I had the proper thread, the knife to cut the thread, but no needle.
"Damn it," I hissed, rummaging through my backpack in case the little shithead fell out. No luck. It them dawned on me that I was in a furniture store that probably contained such a piece of equipment to fix small tears on the displayed furniture. Except my couch, of course, because I doubt that anyone ever came near the damn thing. I walked towards a desk in the back and, hallelujah, I found a pack of needles.
"You have got to be shitting me right now," I said, picking up the small package. The smallest needle would do the trick, but it was still larger than what I'd prefer. I also found a small piece of sample leather, which I grabbed from the desk as well. I went back to my couch, prepared my arm and the thread, and put the piece of leather in my mouth. I knew that the procedure was going to hurt like a bitch, so I had to prepare myself.
Not gonna lie, I cried a bit. I had to focus on the task at hand through the tears, because one small slip up and I was going to be in some serious shit. During the stitching, I threw out curse words that I didn't even know I knew. I probably made some up too, because the selection of curse words that I already had was not enough. After fixing my arm, I fell back asleep on the couch with the hopes that I would wake up and some magical fairy would come by and make the pain go away. Sad to say, but no fairy came that day. The pain was still there. And then some.