45th Apartments

(Apologies in advance for the poor writing. Was studying for a test I've got tomorrow when I was struck with a bit of inspiration, and decided to whip something up. Feedback's appreciated. Might continue if anyone likes it.)

1.

"Seth." I said, loudly and sternly, attempting to get my roommate's attention. I glanced across the room at his bed, but he remained motionless beneath the covers. I sat up, awkwardly twisting my lower body to get a look at the clock radio on his nightstand. It was a few minutes past six, and I'd watched the sun rise waiting for this guy to come to; he'd stumbled back into the room at about three in the morning, mumbling something about a fight at the bar downtown before collapsing in his bed.

At first, I figured he was just hung over, but how the hell could anyone just sleep through that damn tornado siren?

"Seth." I repeated, louder this time, then stood and walked over to the window, hoping I'd see the source of the droning noise that had persisted for the past four hours or so. It was dark outside, and too foggy to see more than five feet out of the building; it didn't help at all that our unit was three floors off the ground. I couldn't think of a reason why the sirens would be going off; the weather hadn't been all that great as of late, but there were never any major storms here. At first I thought they had just picked a bad time to test the outdoor warning system, but when it kept up for more than a few minutes, I figured there might be a problem.

I turned away from the window and slipped out of the door into the unit's diminutive living room, glancing back at Seth as I left. The television remote was on the coffee table behind the couch; if something really was wrong, chances were I could find out what on the news. I grabbed it and hit the power button, taking broad steps around the table and falling back onto the sofa. The old TV hummed briefly; a fuzzy picture appeared and slowly stabilized, and I turned to the local news channel, then turned up the volume.

I had tuned in to the middle of a conversation, accompanied by blurry helicopter footage of downtown, apparently from a few hours ago. I could make out only one major detail; traffic was backed up, apparently for miles.

“...are still completely dumbfounded as to how this disease spreads, but with its reaching epidemic proportions, the governor has declared a state of emergency, and with all hospitals in the area literally crammed with people demanding medical assistance or to see sick family members and friends, strict quarantines enforced by the local police force have been authorized...”

To say the least, the report was a bit unnerving.

“Seth! Wake up, dammit!” I yelled as loud as I could.

My eyes remained glued to the tube, but I heard him groan from the other room, followed by the sound of his feet hitting the floor.

“Bro, there's some really screwed up shit on the news.” I said. “Take a look at this.”

He made another glottal sound, this time from closer; I stood, and began speaking as I turned to face him.

“They're talking about some kind o--”

I stopped mid-sentence; the bottom dropped out of my stomach at the sight of him. He stood with his neck twisted at a sickening angle, like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to look at me or the ceiling; his eyes were white, and hollowed, and had evidently sunk about half an inch back into his head. His skin had taken on a moldy gray color, and it appeared stretched, like it had shrunk in size and now scarcely fit over his frame; the collar of his t-shirt was stained with sweat or blood. He stood still in the middle of the room; the table and couch stood between the two of us.

I didn't have a damn thing to say. I started backing away, heading for the door without taking eyes off Seth. He watched me the entire time, making guttural noises and working his lower jaw around. I was standing next to the TV, and he reared back and tried to lurch forward at me; instead, he racked himself on the coffee table and fell bent over it. Quickly, he recovered and bolted around the obstacles, and I felt something on top of the television; as he came within proximity, I stepped back and slammed it into his face.

This was, of course, after I screamed like a girl.

I wasn't sure what happened in the following seconds; he'd come at me with a hell of a lot of momentum, and though I'd tried to stop him, he collided with me and we hit the ground hard and tumbled several feet in the same direction.

I ended up sitting slumped with my back against the wall, with Seth draped on top of me in a crumpled, motionless heap; his face was pressed into the wood next to my shoulder, and he was bleeding out of his forehead. I realized I'd nailed him in the head with just an old videotape, and I wasn't sure if it was that, the fall, or a combination that did the damage, but somewhere along the line he'd apparently split his skull, and wasn't in any condition to continue.

I shoved him off of me, and stood, shaking from adrenaline and fear both. I looked at Seth, who lay supine on the floor, dripping blood out of his face. I was afraid, and I wasn't sure what was going on.

I had to handle this like any real American would.

I made my way back over to the couch with disjointed, stumbling steps, collapsed in front of that television, and waited.

Felt the "Shaun of the Dead" Inspiration, very good writing none-the less.

You should continue!

You should continue![/quote]

I agree

Continue, I am pretty excited to see the next installment!

you should continue

2.

“Once again, be advised that this disease has reached epidemic proportions; all citizens in the greater metropolitan area are urged to stay inside. It is important to remember that, despite early speculation, this virus may not even be related to the flu, and does not seem to spread through water or air; nonetheless, we remind you to lock your doors, hide your belongings, and avoid all contact with anyone you suspect may be infected. Apparent signs to watch out for are fever, disorientation or delirium, and in acute cases, heightened levels of aggression, catatonia, or coma. The death toll is rising every minute, but cases seem to have slowed down as a result of the National Guard-enforced quarantine, and physicians have denounced recent reports of departed victims 'coming back to life' as false. Stay tuned for further information; this is Channel Two evening news, bringing you hour-by-hour coverage of this event.”

The so-called “hour-by-hour coverage” never came. That little bit of tape looped on Channel Two for a while, and listening to it over and over again was starting to get to me; I'd since dragged Seth's body into the closet because of that thing about “coming back to life”, and was, for once in my life, concerned enough with my own safety to lock the apartment door. I was close-to paralyzed with fear, too much to worry about Seth, or even do anything more than sit on the couch and keep watching that same broadcast.

The cable went out after about five hours of tape loop, and the channel turned to static; I watched it until it stopped, fired up the 360 and tried unsuccessfully to get rid of some stress until the power went out, then sat in the dark until the emergency sirens stopped. It wasn't dark outside yet, and there was still a little light from the windows, but with nothing else left to work my senses, I sank back into the chair, overwhelmed by an incredible feeling of dread.

That lasted for about a minute before I heard a bang against the closet door.

At this point, I'd like to take a moment to tell you a little bit about myself; chances are, I'm not a protagonist in the sense you're used to. I'm not one of those guys from Left 4 Dead, or whatever “psychological action-thriller” is currently flying off store shelves. I'm not some military hero with a Blackhawk and two shotguns, and I'm certainly not some dumb-ass JRPG protagonist with a big sword and a Sonic the Hedgehog haircut.

I'm... sort of just a guy. I have a crappy job in retail, and I don't like people that much. I'm not “in shape” by any means; I'm also not really fast, strong, or good at anything at all, for that matter.

In short words, I'm a pussy. One can only hope that a man is worth more than the sum of his parts.

There was another, louder slam from the inside of the closet door. The severity of the whole situation was only beginning to set in; the news made it sound like the goddamn apocalypse was going on right outside. I'd listened to that same vague description for a few hours; now, the news was inside my closet, and either I wasn't sure or wasn't willing to believe the status quo.

I recalled that part of the news loop about reports of victims 'coming back from the dead' or something. It couldn't be true; there was no way in hell, but such an explanation provided insight into what could be happening to Seth.

Another slam from inside the closet threatened to completely unhinge the door. It was becoming evident that I wouldn't be able to stay inside forever. I would have to find a safer place to weather the storm. I had been idly milling around the apartment this whole time, and decided to make my pacing somewhat useful. In my rounds about the unit, I gathered a couple questionably-clean changes of clothes, a couple bags of chips, and some bottled water from the fridge; I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in for the long haul. Everything went into a large, black, duffel bag, which I haphazardly slung over my shoulder.

A slam from inside the closet resonated throughout the apartment, shaking the table, sofa, and the inert television. I thought about Seth, and wondered if he could be helped; he'd never done anything all that great for me, but he was, in any case, my friend, and I felt that he was still himself somewhere deep in the ego. There was certainly something wrong with him; were he in any condition to think and reason, he'd simply say something, or perhaps open the closet door and walk out. Still, even though I'd acted simply out of fear and self-defense, I wondered if I was in the wrong; I'd split his skull wide open against the apartment wall, and was about to consign him to his death by leaving him alone in a closet.

I unlocked the apartment door, still debating whether to leave or wait.

Seth struck the inside of the door again, and it buckled. He must have known where I was beforehand, as he headed straight for me when the door broke open, throwing himself across the greater of the apartment's length almost instantly. A quick glimpse at his blood-coated face was the deal-breaker; I swung the apartment door open, jumped into the hallway outside, and slammed it shut just as he came within arm's reach.

I mentioned Left 4 Dead earlier, right? Well, I didn't get a chance to look before I leaped, and half-expected six more of them to jump me the moment I set foot in the hallway, in perfect horror movie fashion.

I lucked out. The route to the stairs was clear, and I'd already sat around and waited for long enough.

is that the end

Negative. I simply have yet to continue. Rest assured more chapters will follow.