anything could be. My hatred boiled inside me and made my eyes blaze as I glared at the pieces of evil that were strewn about the room. Some were sizzling under the rays of sunlight, crackling and bubbling as they disintegrated. I wanted them all to burn; I wanted them all to suffer like I had.
Gasping, I realized that tears were streaming down my face and plopping down onto my shirt. I spun around, feeling as though the room was collapsing inward, even though it wasn’t. The air seemed to thin out, small fires burned from the explosions and were growing in intensity as the bodies and trash fueled its fury even more. My eyes glanced about wildly as I felt the horror of what I had done creep into my chest and arrest in my throat. I grasped my blades and ran for the haven that only the outside air could give. Jumping over debris, bodies and rocks, I flew down the hall and spilled out onto the sidewalk.
Finally coming to a stop, my machetes clanked to the floor as I knelt over, breathing hard and closing my eyes, trying to calm the overwhelming anxiety that pulsated in my head. A bit dizzy and coming down from the adrenaline, I paused there for a moment, waiting for my heartbeat to slow and settle into a calmer pace. Standing slowly, I turned toward the double doors, seeing the beams of light cutting the darkness within like knives. Nothing came after me; they were all dead. Only I was left, standing alone. This feeling of fear and power twisted inside me like two piranhas circling each other, ready to rip into each other. I wanted to feel glad that I had killed the hive with little effort. I tried to shake the guilt off, telling myself it was okay, that I had done them a favor. They were no longer people–they were animals, unnatural and cursed. Putting them down was the only thing I could do for them now.
I reached down, grabbed my blades and slowly dragged myself to the van. Opening the side door and grabbing a rag that sat on the floor, I wiped the dark, sticky blood off my blades. I would have to wash them later but right now the fatigue was settling into my bones like a syrupy draught. I was feeling incredibly worn out and exhausted. It wrapped around me like a sedative. I slammed the door shut, leaving my blades on the floor of the van.
I looked around–the street’s silence was almost too much for me. I wanted so badly to see another person, to have someone say my name again. The feelings that swirled inside me were overwhelming, almost making me want to hurl. I swung up into the seat of the driver’s side of the van and cranked the engine. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers felt a tingle of numbness as I continued to sob. Drying blood streaked up and down my arms in intricate patterns. I wanted to scrub it off my skin and feel brand new again. Their blood was tainted and full of viral disease.
I wondered if I would turn this time, turn into one of them. I often wondered why I hadn’t turned when the vampiric virus had vanquished everyone else. My mother, brother and I had fled the city when the nights were beginning to get a little too scary and deadly in our house. It had been centrally located near the sound wall built around the US-95 highway. It was an older neighborhood, meaning that the houses there had large yards and strong construction. Unlike the newer housing tracks, they were built to last forever. We’d had a nice huge spiked gate surrounding the property which had served as our protection from the outside, where the dead had increased and feral vampires had begun roaming freely.
We had boarded up the windows to the point that no light escaped when we lit our lamps at night. Keeping to the living room, we would take shifts sleeping and guarding, never making a noise during the long dark hours of night. The dead would make the noise for us. Outside I could hear the not-so-distant screeches of the feral vampires, hunting their prey. At first it was human screams that accompanied
Gasping, I realized that tears were streaming down my face and plopping down onto my shirt. I spun around, feeling as though the room was collapsing inward, even though it wasn’t. The air seemed to thin out, small fires burned from the explosions and were growing in intensity as the bodies and trash fueled its fury even more. My eyes glanced about wildly as I felt the horror of what I had done creep into my chest and arrest in my throat. I grasped my blades and ran for the haven that only the outside air could give. Jumping over debris, bodies and rocks, I flew down the hall and spilled out onto the sidewalk.
Finally coming to a stop, my machetes clanked to the floor as I knelt over, breathing hard and closing my eyes, trying to calm the overwhelming anxiety that pulsated in my head. A bit dizzy and coming down from the adrenaline, I paused there for a moment, waiting for my heartbeat to slow and settle into a calmer pace. Standing slowly, I turned toward the double doors, seeing the beams of light cutting the darkness within like knives. Nothing came after me; they were all dead. Only I was left, standing alone. This feeling of fear and power twisted inside me like two piranhas circling each other, ready to rip into each other. I wanted to feel glad that I had killed the hive with little effort. I tried to shake the guilt off, telling myself it was okay, that I had done them a favor. They were no longer people–they were animals, unnatural and cursed. Putting them down was the only thing I could do for them now.
I reached down, grabbed my blades and slowly dragged myself to the van. Opening the side door and grabbing a rag that sat on the floor, I wiped the dark, sticky blood off my blades. I would have to wash them later but right now the fatigue was settling into my bones like a syrupy draught. I was feeling incredibly worn out and exhausted. It wrapped around me like a sedative. I slammed the door shut, leaving my blades on the floor of the van.
I looked around–the street’s silence was almost too much for me. I wanted so badly to see another person, to have someone say my name again. The feelings that swirled inside me were overwhelming, almost making me want to hurl. I swung up into the seat of the driver’s side of the van and cranked the engine. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers felt a tingle of numbness as I continued to sob. Drying blood streaked up and down my arms in intricate patterns. I wanted to scrub it off my skin and feel brand new again. Their blood was tainted and full of viral disease.
I wondered if I would turn this time, turn into one of them. I often wondered why I hadn’t turned when the vampiric virus had vanquished everyone else. My mother, brother and I had fled the city when the nights were beginning to get a little too scary and deadly in our house. It had been centrally located near the sound wall built around the US-95 highway. It was an older neighborhood, meaning that the houses there had large yards and strong construction. Unlike the newer housing tracks, they were built to last forever. We’d had a nice huge spiked gate surrounding the property which had served as our protection from the outside, where the dead had increased and feral vampires had begun roaming freely.
We had boarded up the windows to the point that no light escaped when we lit our lamps at night. Keeping to the living room, we would take shifts sleeping and guarding, never making a noise during the long dark hours of night. The dead would make the noise for us. Outside I could hear the not-so-distant screeches of the feral vampires, hunting their prey. At first it was human screams that accompanied
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