Chapter -1

Nathon opened his eyes to the familiar pitch-blackness he had fallen asleep to. Sleepily turning his head to his left, his blurry vision focused on the red digital numbers that glowed faintly in the dark. 6:50. He had a habit of waking up at that exact time every morning. Those precious semi-conscious ten minutes were the highlight of his day. They were the time he could imagine that the past year or so of his life, or more importantly the past month, was just a dream he was finally awakening from.

Sighing he turned on his side away from the numbers and drifted into a half sleep he could more appropriately day dream in. He had gotten to the point where he had not dropped out of college after only two months, when, with a loud bang, the door behind him opened and light flooded in to the small space he was curled up in. Squinting his eyes closed desperately, he tried to make himself believe it wasn't happening, that he was having the same nightmare over again, but her voice interrupted his state of desperate denial.

"Get up. It's seven o' clock." The same words she greeted him with every morning.

He craned his neck around himself to squint into the fluorescent lights that invaded his sanctuary. Silhouetted with shining dust particles was Sarah. Standing imposingly, both hands on either side of the door frame, sneering at him, stood the woman who had made his life hell in a single month. He honestly wondered what he had done to deserve her.

"Get. Up." she repeated in an far more menacing tone. She was wearing a lightly ruffled light grey blouse, a black jacket, and matching black knee length skirt, and black Mary Janes. Her dark brown hair was lightly curled and hung down to her shoulders. If it wasn't for the look of malice and hate that filled her deep brown eyes, and lit up the golden flecks in them, he might have thought she was heading off to the office. He assumed that's what everyone else in the building thought.

"I have a job for you today, Nathon." She waited for him to sit up before continuing. "Here are your instructions." She took the one step needed to reach his vicinity and handed Nathon a piece of legal paper. "Now," she continued, "I've got places to be." What those places were Nathon had no idea, and for that he was probably glad. She then turned and quickly strode out of the space and down the hall, her clicking heels reveling she was headed for the stairs.

He waited for the clicking to disappear before rubbing standing and pulling the string by his head. A bare bulb illuminated the shelves around him, along with the sink, the tiny cot, and all the cleaning supplies an apartment building would ever need.

A janitor's closet may seem like a horrible place to sleep, but Nathon found that faint chemical smell, so familiar to him by now, somewhat comforting.

Sighing, he reached over and swung the door closed. He brushed his neck-length almost-black hair back with his fingers. After splashing his face and brushing his teeth by the sink, he crouched down and opened a cabinet to his left and pulled out a mostly clean grey shirt, his dark jacket, and dark jeans. Changing quickly, he stuffed his old clothes back into the cabinet and kicked it closed before venturing out into the hallway. He turned left, the opposite direction Sarah had when she left, and entered the room directly next door, using a key he had grabbed, along with his watch and the directions given to him before, as he left.

He always felt a strong feeling of apprehension whenever he entered this apartment, as he did every morning. Stealing the same look at the life of his tormentor he did every day, he took in the sparsely furnished living room and kitchenette. Just a used TV, small uncomfortable looking couch, a coffee table, and only a fridge, microwave, oven, and dishwasher in the kitchen.

The only thing on the dark walls was a single photo of a cat, a gnarled, beaten looking cat with lots of scars and cuts in its ears. this picture was the thing that disturbed him the most of the entire room, mostly because the little girl holding the cat for dear life looked to be about twelve, but the expression on her face was so deep and intense that it looked like she had seen enough horrible things to last a lifetime. But the most disturbing part about it was the fact that the girl, who wore a pink skirt and white top, with her curled brown hair and gold-flecked eyes, bore a shocking resemblance to the Sarah.

Shuddering, he turned his gaze to the table to his right and grabbed the half sandwich that he knew had only a scrape of peanut butter on it, and quickly left the apartment, locking the door behind him. He quickly ate the sandwich trying not to remember what Sarah had put in his room the last time he had tried getting something extra to eat from her kitchen. Breakfast was the only thing she ever fed him, and she gave him twenty dollars a week, so he mostly survived on a pack of chips and a soda every day.

He finished his meager meal and walked back down the hallway and to the elevator, where he exited on the ground floor and walked out to the busy street. Blending in with the crowd of comforting strangers, he walked through the brisk April air until he had gone a few blocks West. finding a bench, he sat down and unfolded the directions Sarah had give him. He read them once. And then again. And then another time, just to make sure he had not finally succumbed to insanity.

Stoking out the entire city. For some stupid common cold symptoms? glancing down at the last note on the sheet, he knew that Sarah was either insane, or that the world was probably coming to an and. Or maybe both.

And remember. If you find anyone with the symptom of being bitten by another human being, you are to leave the scene, because that person has most likely been infected with the Zombie Virus. Contact me immediately.