Black Blood
"Are you okay?"
I ask quietly while staring down at Balkin.
He's crouched over the toilet seat in the bathroom. a Thick, black tar like liquid coats the surface, some splattered on the wall, an iridescent sheen to it as the light catches on it.
"I'll be fine." he says meekly.
This often happened after receiving certain injections. They made us violently sick.
Everyone had the same symptoms, nausea and then vomiting this black liquid. It didn't look like it, but it tasted like blood. Thick and irony.
We would stay sick for days on end, unable to eat, unable to sleep.
It was horrible, disgusting.
We were never told why this happened but when it did, the doctors always seemed disappointed.
Like they were expecting something ... different.
What finally wakes me up is not the sound of the siren but rather the absence of it. There's a deathly silence that drifts through the room like a cold breeze. A fuzziness coats my mind as my consciousness floats back. I realize just how dark it is as I open my eyes yet still see nothing. With great effort, I sit up, head still slightly spinning. Giving myself a moment to adjust, I reach for the shelves of canned foods. I can somewhat make out the outlines of the cans. I feel around me for my bag and pull it closer onto my lap. I reach for the foods and start packing as much as I can fit into the bag.
The darkness makes me even more anxious than before, coupled with the silence, it makes my skin crawl. I have to get out of here.
My plan is straightforward, leave this facility and get to the nearest town. It will definitely take a while to get there as the facility is almost an hour's drive out of town. All while avoiding flesh tearing zombies. I just have to get away from here.
A thought that has been gnawing on me since I initially woke up in that hospital room, finally forces itself to the forefront of my mind. Is anyone out there still alive? Would I be walking into a ghost town? The idea of having to tread this world alone until I also eventually meet my end has me almost hyperventilating. Despite my fragmented memory, I know I was never really alone. The facility was always full of people, whether it was other subjects or nurses or researchers, there was always movement. Always people talking, asking us questions, ordering us to do things, experimenting on us. The image I hold in my mind is a busy hallway, subjects on their way to the cafeteria or the courtyard, but for some reason my mind can't place a single recognizable face on these bodies. It makes my head hurt.
I get up, making my way to where I first came into the cafeteria. The whole way there, I am pressed against the wall, trying to feel my way to the entrance. With this, I take slow, cautious steps while also straining my ears for any stray sounds. Fighting a zombie in the dark is a definite death sentence.
I make my way out, the hallway is at least somewhat 'brighter' than a closed room. Still, I walk down the hallway with my hand following along the wall. The surface rough under my finger pads.
As I reach the reception area, I breath out a sigh of relieve. At least inside this building, I have successfully avoided any undead. Although I don't believe there was any more inside this building judging by the lack of encounters and the silence. So I am relieved, the stress and anxiety of everything that has happened so far has my body feeling like jelly.
The reception is surprisingly well lit. The moonlight streaming in from the glass doors and windows. I push against the door, opening it and freeing myself from this hospital. With this action, my eyes catch the bloody bandages on my arm. It is completely soaked through and in the light of the moon I can clearly see just how dark it is. A deep, almost black, liquid that shines like a kaleidoscope in the light rays. Oddly, it's familiar. If there is any memory in my mind that I can remember vividly, it will be blood. This blood in particular. It was a regular occurrence with us, the subjects. To vomit blood or have black blood bleed from puncture wounds. Usually, after a few days after we had received injections, our blood would return back to normal. It was unsettling back then.
The howling wind pulls me from my thoughts, the scene before me is bathed in subtle light. Decaying bodies everywhere. There is no movement besides the trees rustling in the breeze. I stand there a while just to see if any zombies make themselves present. When I detect nothing, I make my way to the gravel path that leads to the main gate. From where I stand, I can see the gate is mangled and open. That must be where the zombies initially came in.
There are two small fields on either side of the path that separates the tall, steel fence from the front of the main building. Most of the fence is still intact, just the gate and some weak places that broke, presumably from the pressure of the undead trying to get inside.
Making my way down the path and nearing the fallen gate, I constantly survey my surroundings. I really don't want any more surprises. As I reach the gate, I can see shreds of clothing and flesh stuck on the sharp edges of the broken steel. It smells sour and rotten. I scoot past, trying my best not to touch anything. On the other side of the gate there is nothing but grass fields and trees. The first field stretches for a while before dense pine trees begin.
Looking upon the scene, I sigh exasperatedly. I have to walk all the way into town with a body that is desperately tired and fatigued. I glance back through the gate at the building. There's no turning back now. Forcing myself, I start walking down the road.