1 White Mist

War is an experience unique to each man. Some relish the idea of battle and bloodshed, others despise it. It takes a special human to be able to kill others without feeling anything. Some would declare these people as "mentally ill" or "unstable" I, on the other hand, consider these people to be true warriors. They are unlike the cowards who are unable to stomach the flames of war and the darkness that follows. I have always held onto the idea that the strong survive and the weak die. This idea, I admit, fuels my lack of emotion towards death. Some might say, "Yeah, who would care about the death of others when you believe them to be inherently weak or useless?" In most ways, I agree with this statement. Who would care about the lives of the useless? Does one feel regret or sympathy for killing insects? The answer for most is "No". So the question remains how are we any different than insects? People give a plethora of answers but are unable to sway the argument held by this comment. How is the death of an insect different than a human? Is it because we care for one another: our compassion and love? What happens when you remove compassion and love, what is left then? Now, I'm not saying I'm heartless, or unable to experience emotion, instead, I have just become numb. Numb to the life of others, numb to death and destruction. After all, when these things are the norm there is no escaping change.

White mist escaped my mouth, curling upwards around my lips, traveling toward the cracked concrete roof. The shuffling of feet and the crisp sound of glass shards echoed through the dark space. The vague shape of humans could be seen in the distance stumbling as they moved. Another breath escaped upwards as I searched for something, anything, that would aid my desperate struggle for survival. Rock debris littered the ground along with a few abandoned cars spread throughout the tunnel. The idea of hiding inside one of the cars came to me but was quickly dismissed under the possibility that it could be days before the horde passed. By that time, I would have long since died from dehydration or starvation. I continued to run further into the tunnel. Darkness crept inwards as I distanced myself from the tunnel opening. With darkness came desperation, the only thing I could see was a metal service door located on the side of the tunnel. Trying the door, I discovered just like the many service doors I had previously passed this one too was locked. Although there was something different about this location: the stench. The smell of rotting meat filled the air. Since the plagues beginning, I had grown used to the putrid smell. At first, I completely ignored it, thinking the smell had little to do with my search for sheltered. It then occurred to me, the smell indicated the presence of a body. A body could mean a few things but most likely symbolized the closeness of an infected. My eyes and nose searched for the source of the smell, wishing to discover that the area was safe. My hopes were dashed by the quiet noise of chewing.

"Fear is an eternal factor, especially when facing death. During these trying times when death is everywhere fear also permeates the soul, there is no escaping this emotion."

My mind focused on the disturbing sound. I knew what it meant, and I knew what I had to do. I had to confront this enemy of mankind. I had to fight it, not for someone else, but instead for my own survival. This moment changed me. My mentality shifted from being a scared, wandering individual to someone who would determine his own future. It was at this moment I made a conscious choice to confront my fears. My ears led me to the heart-wrenching scene. The smell of iron floated in the air around the location. There was no question: I would have to fight. The sound of feet marching behind me egged me forward toward my future, whether good or bad. I snuck forward until the infected entered my vision. He was half hidden behind an abandoned car feasting on his catch. I rushed forward, planting my foot on the side of his head. My kick knocked his head onto the concrete ground causing black blood to ooze outward. The infected lifted his head back upward and sounded a roar towards my location. Sweat rolled down my forehead thinking about the approaching horde. They had certainly heard the roar and would be approaching in an even greater frenzy. My thoughts turned back to the present for I had a larger problem at hand. The zombie stumbled upward as it rushed toward me. It's vicious face covered in black blood. The zombie's wrists were colored a bright red up to the wrist from dismembering the human body. I swung my fist quickly, connecting with the zombie's forehead. My hand radiated pain as I had punched solid bone but I continued to hit and punch, finally alternating to kicking. Under my adrenaline induced hysteria, I did not realize the zombie had long since been dead until the pounding of metal brought me back to reality, only then did I realize that my foot had completely destroyed the zombies head. It resembled a watermelon that had fallen and burst open upon the ground. My stomach reeled at the image causing acid to burn the back of my throat. I quickly scampered away from the site towards what I hoped would be a better future or at least a safe place I could spend the night at. I reached the end of the car tunnel after dodging abandoned cars and lone zombies scattered about. They were eager for raw food, but I was just as eager to stay alive. The fresh, clean air and the bright sunlight relieved some tension that I had held inside. I had escaped, at least temporarily, from death. Another moment of reprieve, a period of rest in which to determine my next step forward.

"Run, onward toward the future, to see what awaits you on the other side, never looking back to instead see what you have missed. Forward is the journey; neverending is the walk of life."

The city of Marietta Georgia was once a beautiful place just North of Atlanta. Now, it had instead turned into a hellhole. The bright sun and its hot rays only strengthened the horrid stench that permeated the air. The rancid smell of rotting meat: human meat to be exact. The ironic thing happened to be that the majority of the infected were centered around the Georgian National Guard and the Air Reserve base located in South Eastern Marietta. The soldiers there had fought bravely and in doing so had attracted the majority of the infected. The entire base had been silent since late last night, which had marked Day 2 of the epidemic. Smoke rose from specific sections surrounding the base, a testament to the destruction and the hard fought battle that took place. It was impossible to approach Dobbins Air Reserve Base because of the concentration of infected. This made hope for rescue by the military a far-off probability. When they can't even hold out themselves how would they be able to send support to others? The situation had deteriorated into an apocalyptic-sized event. With the hordes of infected attracted to places that generate lots of noise Atlanta Power, a subsidiary of Southern Company had halted all production of electricity. With the largest power plant in Georgia non-operational, the entirety of Atlanta and all surrounding cities and towns turned dark. The lack of power and the threat of infection fueled the fear of humanity.

"Civilization is a thin string held together by even smaller threads called hope: hope for a better future and for a better world for our children. Without hope, civilization will collapse and as it falls it will bring about a dark age that will seem to blot out the sun's light."