- Jun 18, 2019
Whether it was some kind of prion, virus, fungus, whatever. A person would die, and then just get right back up, and start eating another people. One bite, then a day later, they would do the same thing. Rinse Repeat. Despite the guns, despite the tanks, the aircraft, the bombs. You couldn't contain this thing. It was everywhere. Society collapsed in a few days. Morality in a few weeks. A month later, the dead outnumbered the living.
Entire cities silent, save for the moans.
Hiroki Sakimoto at the time of the outbreak was 17. Thankfully, he was the athletic outdoorsy type. His father gave him a gun before getting himself killed keeping the peace. His mother and sister died fleeing the city. He managed to get back home, back to his apartment. He lost touch with his girlfriend. Grandparents. The TV went out, then the internet, and finally the power. He was alone in a new dark world. But Hiroki was nothing, if not a survivor, and luck of his situation rendered him the perfect hide out. An entire mostly empty apartment complex with big heavy fire doors. He could clear out one floor for supplies to last him a week, then move onto the next. Then secure a whole wing of the building. Then move onto the others. Bit by bit, floor by floor, thinning the numbers on the apartment grounds until he managed to get to the gate. Thick bars and concrete walls. He fought to make the complex his fortress, his haven.
Solar panels provided power... Tarps and buckets caught rainwater. He'd need the occasional supply run into the city, and ward off the occasional raider and looter. He was a survivor, and as the years passed, it only cemented that fact.
Hiroki had rolled a T-shirt down his chest and abs inside of his dank apartment room. He was going to go out today. He needed more copper wire the panel. Plant food for his little rooftop garden. Maybe a replacement radio. He had gotten a signal, an SOS before but it was so muddled and scratchy he couldn't get them back. The signal is still there, he wondered if there was actual survivors still in the city. He'd also hit some of the convenience stores three blocks over. Probably expired candy bars, but they were still good despite being discolored.
He dipped a toothbrush into a glass of water and began to brush, his long messy red hair almost completely covering his eyes as he looked back at himself in the mirror. He didn't know why he still shaved, waste of water, but it was part of the ritual, part of looking like he had his shit together. He took his brush to the balcony, sliding the door and looking out into the courtyard below.
Same cars. Same parking lot. Same wall and same gate, most of it covered to keep the undead from looking inside. Avoiding hordes had been his key to his peaceful little mundane life. He took a set of binoculars off of the nearby table and scanned the street outside of the wall from his room on the 10th floor. There he caught a familiar sight.
There was one of them, a girl. Probably his age, a little younger maybe when she was bitten. He'd seen her out there, on the street on occasion. He swore she was looking up at him sometimes. It was... strange.