Chapter 2: PART I – Anamnesis [Memorial Sacrifice] - CHAPTER 1
June 28th, 2018
Athens, Ohio, Lancaster Ave
The worst time of the year is when all the bugs come out. Tiny specks of insignificant life that only exist to piss me off. Summer isn't my favorite season as it is, but when you introduce the scourge of humankind as a daily obstacle...you can be sure I try my hardest to be away from them as much as possible. Of course, not having a roof over my head makes that a touch more difficult than it does for most people. Those of us that remain, at least.
The world is a much different place nowadays. Fighting, starving, dying. It's all equal parts suffering round these parts. It's hard enough to find your next meal without having to worry if the place you rest your head is oft to be your last. Of course, now the flies were competition for the available food out there.
Summers were always the worst, and while I've had some easier summers where I was able to camp out at broken down businesses that had larger food reserves than normal, out here this summer I was all on my own.
There was a temptation to raid the campus nearby. It'd be familiar. It was where I was going to undergrad before…
Well, before. It was heartily tempting...I still had a lot of my old stuff there. We all had to evacuate once the boiler in the science building blew. Some people thought it was a terrorist attack—those had been increasing in the public eye. It's almost laughable now, thinking about the situation that snowballed the complete evacuation of the school—I learned about it a few weeks later from a source who was live on the scene.
Apparently, a pair of stoners snuck into the science lab because they knew it was going to be empty at that point of the day. Turns out, it wasn't, and there was a bit of conflict between them. My source—a guy named Issac who had been working late on a project was a bit of a stickler for places being used for intended purposes.
Turns out the two fine gentlemen were sticklers for places being used as smoking spots. Arguments erupted and...I can't confirm who touched who first, but I wouldn't be surprised if one of the other guys shoved first. Now, if that had been that, nothing further from some hurt egos would have left that building.
Unfortunately, one of those shoves led Issac falling backward against his table. I don't know quite what the mixture he was working with, but I guess that isn't wholly important. I don't have to paint the whole picture here, yeah? Building went boom. Of course, it was more like the room went boom, but it was just the start of what went bad. Y'see, whatever was in those containers wasn't healthy for the rest of us when they combined. And air travel on a college campus is...very troublesome indeed.
Few of the people who hung around the area after cleanup started...well, they started getting sick. If that was it, would have only called for a quarantine and a lockdown. Things progressed when the first murder came about.
Those people...they became...feral. Sounds like the start of a post apocalyptic zombie story, right? Well, things progressed from there. All in all there were about twenty people that were seriously affected, and when the second case went feral the entire campus shut down and everyone was evacuated out. There wasn't much of a police force to take down the creatures those people became—so they just remained and haunted the halls, surviving on whatever they could get their hands on.
I caught up with Issac a while back near a bar a few towns over. He was a poor sight—felt guilty as all hell for picking a fight that day. Drowning himself in all the warm booze he could find. I don't know if he recognized me—hell, I don't even know if he knew I was there, but he sure as hell regretted a lot.
That's when I learned to avoid carrying regret as much as I could. Never regret so your burden never gets heavier than what you carry. My proverbial pack on my back only allows what I can hold and no more. Others may find that...coarse. They may use rougher words for that, and to that, I say, fuck that. When you're out here in the summer heat, getting sucked alive by the mosquitoes and fighting for your next meal from the flies, you can carry whatever the fuck you think you need to carry.
And yet...I cannot deny that carrying some of my old shit from my room like some new clothes or some of the snacks I squirreled away that haven't spoiled was still heavily tempting.
And it really is quite muggy outside.
I must apologize for that, you see, I've got this thing with me. There was this doctor at the orphanage I used to visit, this was before I went to the college, and they did all sorts of tests and such. I can't remember the name of it off of the top of my head. I was around that age, you know, where anything adults say goes in one ear and out the other.
Anyway, they said I had a high rate of survival, so it wasn't anything like...bad I guess. I guess that's why I didn't stick to remembering what they said it was. I just know what it does to me. Sometimes my mind likes to create side-tangents of thought that run alongside my main one. That's the best I can really explain it, I'm not used to telling other people it, really. I've pretty much got it under control anyway to the point where it isn't running multiple conversations simultaneously. That was a real headache-inducer.
-nice shower
You know...I think I might head to the campus after all. If I'm quick enough I can snag enough for a good meal. I could use some time away from smelling like a plumber's handkerchief, anyway.
Huh...did I read that somewhere? That's odd...not the kind of metaphor I'd normally think of on my own. Might have been a King novel or something, He tends to write those kinds of physical grotesqueries.
Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself, my bad. My name's Gavin and I absolutely love long walks on the beach. That should be enough for you to know, right? I'm not too good at this, I know. But then again, I guess if I was then I'd be in a much different spot than I am now. Might be dead. People who care too much about presentation often miss the small things that end up biting them in the ass in the end.
People aren't really my thing. I guess that's another deciding factor on why I was going to the school, because my last ditch effort here in the street was stopped because of people. Remember that bar I told you about? Well, I was going to hide out there for a bit. Raid the stash that someone else had prepared but not gotten the chance to take opportunity of, but a real rough gang of pricks showed up. Came in, I managed to just get away before they shot Issac. Put him out of his misery I guess.
Getting away and surviving's always been a skill of mine. I don't tend to rely on others, so I'm not slowed down. Shit starts to go down and I'm gone. I'm rather thin and relatively fast on my feet. Definitely helps in the new environment.
They've since gone and locked themselves in, most likely drinking themselves away. I'm not a fan of alcoholics either, by the way. So you can check that off on my eHarmony profile.
But a nice drink wouldn't be terrible right now-
Sadly, I have to accept this loss of the bar, I'm much too little of one man to take on five brutes who are more aggressive if they're drunk. It is quite the shame, though.
I hike up the straps on my backpack and begin the walk down the street. I keep very little with me...well, of course because I have very little, but that should be changing real soon if things go my way.
Across the street from the bar is when the air begins to change. It seems to become heavier, pungent in taste. If I had anything in my stomach I'm sure I'd hurl it up. So it's good I don't, I guess. It doesn't stop the dry heaving, but I'd rather that then burning my throat out. Life's all about thinking about the positives, you see?
-nice shower, it would certainly be nice to have a nice shower, it would-
I reach the fence. It is almost three times my height. You might think it is a normal fence, but then again, you aren't native to these parts, not like the few around here.
Not like me.
Everybody around here knows to stay away. This is what separates us normies from the Vultures. It's almost a blessing that they haven't figured out how to climb yet, it must have not clicked yet, to be able to grasp solid objects and pull up. Well, whatever is keeping them on that side doesn't really matter now, I'm going over. I toss the backpack over the side of the fence, it lands doubled over itself.
I grasp the wires of the fence and stick my feet through the holes, letting my toes wrap themselves around as I reach up and grab at a higher point. I'm up halfway and grip into the metal, reaching my hand now over the top of the bar, and then my elbow, and then using that to balance my weight as I pull myself over the fence.
I used to be so much better looking. I don't mean to brag, but now I feel like any stray gust of wind could pick me up and blow me away, far away from this place, from this life.
Once I'm clear I drop down and tumble right next to my bag. The landing hurts my feet a bit, I think I may have landed on a rock or something, but I stand up and grab my pack and sling it across my back and begin walking. It's going to be a lot more quiet as I continue. I'm not going to be seeing that creepy kid whose been killing rats or the woman who digs through the garbage to keep her and her enlarged stomach satisfied. They were sights of what the area around here does to people.
I'm betting absolutely everything right now on the levels of contamination are low enough around my dorm. I'm sure I'm the first to come through here, since nobody really wants to be the guinea pig to throw their life away. I guess I don't care either way—that's why I'm even entertaining the thought of your presence.
I see the library first, I recognize it even now after the top floors were scarred by fires. That happened a while back before the evacuation. I don't think that one was the stoners' faults, as almost humorous as that would be. As far as I can remember that happened as an intentional act that spread far out of control. Med student named Jamie Throuton broke down and freaked. Her grades weren't up to what she needed. Instead of taking responsibility for her failures she wanted to torch the place she hated the most—the place she'd spent so much of her time and actively looked to squeeze as much out of her as possible.
Top floor was destroyed, but the building survived. Jamie was burned pretty bad in the event. She was quickly enveloped in the blaze that spiraled out of control. Not only was she expelled for the action, but she was also brought on federal charges of arson. I can't say I don't know the stresses that could push someone to that point, but to so fruitlessly kill any chance of survival or recovery...I couldn't imagine being locked up in a place as shitty as that.
I have my own frustrations with the expectations others place on me, but instead of going up in flames, I choose to rebuke any and all that come my way. Anything that doesn't push me forward—that doesn't lead to my next meal gets shucked and tossed aside.
Looking at the scars that formed so short a time ago on the library, I do feel a certain sadness for the knowledge that is lost, though. People come and they go—they don't really have much to offer that another, similar person cannot provide. But the books, though, those are priceless. Sounds awful? Just the times we live in. No easy replacement for knowledge. And knowledge is what keeps the dead from the dying. We're all dying, but we're not all dead.
Maybe I could stop by and see if I can find anything that survived the blaze. Although, that would add to the number of buildings I had to visit, and unlike the dorm I was heading to, it wasn't secured. So I'd be a target for as long as I was out in the open.
I walk past the library, deciding against going in. I duck around the back, walking on the tiled walkway leading through the perimeter of the campus. I peek through the slits of the alleys into the quad, a large open field where the students would have sat and studied. It was an odd sight seeing it so...empty. This place was one of the most popular when things were close to normal. Nothing to be gained from here as even the trees have been picked clean. Skeletal fingers that stretched to the sky. It was a horrible thought to think how the Vultures managed to get their fix from the leaves.
They definitely didn't climb—that much was clear from their inability to make it over the fence. They must have knocked all the leaves down by throwing themselves against the trees. And suddenly, my body had a phantom ache inside.
I remember on the large tree in the center we would all gang up on Halloween and completely cover the branches of the tree with toilet paper. It was some tradition that was started eons ago that continued up until the very end, but it seems all of the excess toilet paper has been recycled for some other use. It was definitely odd that the Vultures ate their way through the leaves but left the toilet paper well enough alone. I guess some human tendencies remained after turning feral.
Things seem to be okay so far. I'm quite a ways from the science building, and I haven't started retching from the air as much as I thought I would be, so I have high hopes for the chances of me stocking up. Maybe I might be able to spend the night if I can lock up the dorms enough. God...imagine sleeping in a bed I once considered comfortable. The thought is too tantalizing to pass up.
Then thinking of how nice that would be, I think of how long I had been without it. It really kind of sucks, you know? Like, I worked tons of summer jobs since I was sixteen, all so I could make it to college and do something with my life. I don't think I'm going to be getting a refund on any of it. All that wasted time, effort and money.
I find my old dorm after my deliberations. The building itself is rather unassuming. The exterior had no defining features that distinguished it from any other building. I only know its purpose because of my extended experience here.
My stuff, or what remains of it should still be in my room. Of course, that's with extremely positive thinking and assuming no Vultures have made it into the building yet. This dorm specifically was outfitted with fiberglass windows and can only be opened from the outside with a student or faculty ID. The other buildings were going to get the upgrade soon enough, but it just wasn't in the cards it seemed.
They wanted to instill a sense of security in the freshman so they'd stay and continue to pay tuition. They didn't give a shit about upperclassmen, those were hollow promises. I race to the front door, sliding my backpack to my front as I open up the front zipper. I grab at the plastic card with my face plastered across the front, my eyes staring back at me with the stupidest smile I'd ever seen.
"God I need a haircut," I say, looking at the blond bush on my head. And when I get one I want to grow it out. It almost makes me want a drink.
I'm broken out of my thoughts by a terrifying scream behind me. I turned quick on my heels to see the naked, bruised body of one of the Vultures. She's got a crooked jaunt in her stride. Open sores and welts covered the surface of her body, and bruises discolored the entire surface. Dirt, grime, and what looks like blood cakes her wicked form, she looks at me with an obsessive glare, she begins drooling as she walks closer.
No no no no no! This is so not going down this way! Hurry just have to scan the card-
I turn and practically smash the card against the scanner. The light goes green and I make a mad dash inside, turning to pull the door shut as quickly as I can. The Vulture slams her body against the door frame and I'm almost pushed off my feet by the force of it. These monsters...just what could have set them off? What was in that explosion that turned them from normal people into these absolute feral creatures? Something's happened, something big and nobody wants to talk about it. Well, not nobody, I hear whispers that it isn't happening just here. There are people that come here from other cities that have it way worse, like Buffalo or San Diego. Those places have it real rough.
I dig my heels in and shove the door back against its latches. The Vulture's fingers slide in between the cracked opening. The door shuts over on top of them and the Vulture emits a nasty scream that shakes my stomach something uncomfortable. I finally push it closed as the Vulture pulls its fingers free. The door shuts and the lock re-engages.
I slide down against the door, catching my breath, looking out onto the lounge I'd been so used to just a year ago, a place I called home if not just for a while.
And now it has gone to shit.
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