Emergent

Chapter 1

I never thought of myself as a hero… Hell, I still don’t. So when I heard the police had

quarantined off a city block due to the suspicion of an outbreak in our town, I didn’t think

too much of it. I mean how was I supposed to know that it was going to be the end of the

world? It all just seemed like something that was going to blow over.

It was still the first days of the outbreak, and everyone was jumping at shadows… I

guess they were right in hindsight. I was living in my first place. It was small for a studio-

apartment, and a s**t hole at that. But still, I was happy to be there, living on my own for the

first time in my life. I remember I was taking out the trash when I first saw one of those…

things. It was early in the evening, but still dark. I moseyed out my front door and had to

shut it behind me with my foot because the garbage bag was so overfilled. I wasn’t in any

kind of a hurry when I walked around the corner of the complex and into the alleyway.

At the end of the dark little street, I could see someone walking towards me. I thought

he was drunk by the way that he was stumbling. I lived right next to a bar so s**t like that

wasn’t uncommon in my neighborhood, and as a result I didn’t pay any mind. Fighting to

get the dumpster open when both hands are just trying to keep the garbage from spilling is

always a trick, which is why I was taking so long to get it in there. I managed to get the lid

of the dumpster open only to have the bag snag on something and tear wide open spilling

half of it on the ground. I was so disappointed at the mess I wasn’t even paying attention to

the dark figure approaching me.

I was hunched over trying to pick up the pile of trash when I peeked up to see the face

of the advancing zombie for the first time. Its face had just come into the light which peered

through the neighbor’s fence slats. I held my gaze on it trying to get a clear picture when it

finally passed into the light of the alley. There was blood running down from its torn up

mouth, it looked as if it had been mashing its face into what… or, I guess who it was eating,

so hard that it had accidentally taken a few bites of its own lips. When my brain finally

caught on to what was happening I felt my chest tense. I stood up from the pile of garbage

and took a step backward. I was breathing heavily, and my heart was racing. It was panic,

and that’s never a good reaction in a life and death situation. I realized it and started asking

myself What are you doing standing there? I was trembling as it continued to shuffle

towards me. Run… the voice inside called out, but I was still frozen. Run! It was only six

feet away when I finally took another step back.

That’s when things went bad. I stumbled on a piece of garbage that had spilled out

from the bag and fell backward on my ass. It would have been embarrassing had it not

nearly killed me. The zombie lunged… or maybe I should say fell on me. It pinned me to the

ground with its weight. I was just a skinny 18 year old at the time, hardly a man at all, and

the monster bearing down on me could have been twice my weight. I grabbed its throat with

both hands to keep it from biting. But that didn’t stop it from trying. It kept snapping its

teeth at me and clawing at me with its hands. Blood was dripping from the torn lip and

painting my face red.

I struggled with it for nearly half a minute before my muscles were burning. I

desperately started to look around for something, anything that could help. And that’s when

I caught a glimpse of what had tripped me, it was a plastic bottle. I gave as strong a shove as

I could muster, and reached for the bottle in desperation. I just barely grabbed it from the

back end, when the zombie pushed back. I jammed the bottle straight down its throat, which was surprisingly effective at neutralizing a zombie’s mouth. It kept biting down on the bottle

making a crinkling plastic noise, but it couldn’t bite through it, which had given me the

opportunity to force us to roll over. With me on top, I started to punch it in the side of the

head. After about five or six I got the impression that it didn’t care, as it just kept on trying

to grab at me. So instead of fighting it, I ripped myself from its clutches and clamored to my

feet.

I ran this time, as fast as I could back to my apartment. I didn’t even try to look back. I

was just so focused on getting inside. I slammed the door behind me with enough force to

shake and rattled the windows, and I collapsed with my back to it. I was gasping for air,

trying to calm down and collect myself. I rubbed my face with my hands and stared down at

the blood I had just wiped off. My hand was shaking from the adrenaline. I reeled my head

back against the door and aimlessly cast my eyes at the ceiling. I shut them and tried to

regain my composure. It took a moment before I could think clearly enough to decide what

to do. As far as I was concerned, I was just attacked by a strange man who was injured, we

were still in denial at those times. I pulled my phone from my pocket and called the cops.

The phone rang, for longer than I would have liked it to, but someone eventually

answered. “911 what’s your emergency?”

“Someone… just attacked me outside my apartment. I made it inside, but… something

isn’t right with the guy who grabbed me.”

“Sir are you ok?” There was urgency in her voice, but I could tell there was some

underlying fear shaking her just a little.

“Yeah, I think. Listen though the man who grabbed me, he was injured.”

“How was he injured sir?”

“He was… I mean… Look half his face was torn off!” The phone fell silent. I asked

“Hello?”

“I’m here, stay on the line sir.” It took a few more seconds for her to get back to me

and ask for my information. I told her who I was and where I lived. She was adamant about

me staying inside, and not answering the door for anyone but the officer they were sending

out. I agreed wholeheartedly and hung up the phone.

The waiting was miserable. I took the few minutes I had to go into the kitchen and

wash my face and hands clean of the blood. I noticed that my shirt had been stained from the

attack when I could see the police cruiser pull up through my kitchen window. The officer

who got out was about six feet tall with black hair. He seemed very nervous about what was

going on. He kept his hand on his gun ready to use it at a moment’s notice. He walked over

to the side of the apartment where I had been attacked and pulled out his flashlight. I could

see him shining it, looking for anything that could be a threat. When he was satisfied that

whatever had done this was gone he seemed to relax a bit. He took his hand off his gun and

finally came to knock on my door.

I answered, and when he saw the blood on my shirt he stepped back. “Sir, you haven’t

been bitten have you?” He wouldn’t look me in the eyes. He was too focused on the blood

stained shirt I was wearing.

“I don’t think so.“ I responded, but I still didn’t really understand the weight of the

situation. I took a small step forward.

“Sir!” He had become more forceful in his words, and it was obvious he didn’t

appreciate my actions. He reached for the grip of his gun. “Have you been bitten?”I stopped for a second to give a careful response. “No, I wasn’t bitten. The man who

attacked me tried to bite me, but this blood-“ I pinched at the soaked collar of my shirt

before I continued “was his… His face was really shredded.”

“You’re sure?” He was still hesitant.

“Yes, I shoved a bottle in his mouth and got away.” His tension melted slowly, and he

pulled his hand off his gun. He took a deep breath. “Why… does it matter?”

“I think that’s a question best answered at the station. It’s Mark right? Mark

Williams?” I nodded in agreement. “I have orders to bring you in.”

“Why I didn’t do anything?”

“It’s not about…” He was frustrated. “Look, you didn’t do anything wrong, we’re just

getting a lot of reports… Just come with me please.”

“Alright, I guess that’s ok.” I grabbed my keys and wallet off the end table and locked

the door as we left.

He opened the back of the squad car and said, “Get in.”

“Do I have to get in the back?”

The officer rolled his eyes and spoke under his breath. “Why do people always ask

that?” It was then that I started to notice his unprofessionalism. It’s not that he struck me as

someone who was impersonating an officer, it was more that he seemed distressed. He

returned his voice to normal before continuing. “Yes, don’t worry about it. It’s just standard

procedure.” I got in the car and he closed the door behind me. After he walked around the

car and got into the driver’s seat we drove off.