Viron

———-Part one———-

In the beginning

It all started on June 9th, 2029. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a clear day. My wife, Michelle, and I were celebrating our one-year anniversary. I had joked about what was to come for a couple years, but never really thought it would happen. At least, not like this.

My name is John. I'm twenty-seven years old, with brown curly hair, green eyes and a dark complexion, and as far as I know, I'm one of the last survivors who isn't infected with Saltz. No one knows quite how it happened. I guess one thing led to another and eventually, hell just fuckin’ broke loose.

Michelle and I were celebrating our first anniversary when I heard the first reports on TV of a medical outbreak.  At least, that's what the government called it. Fuckin’ idiots couldn't run shit even if it had autopilot. All they cared about was being rich and popular, even if it ruined everyone else's lives. I hate those bastards now. They could have prevented this. They knew months ahead of time what was happening. Bastards!  All it would have taken was to let the public know; to tell everyone what was happening. Instead, they just covered it up. The CDC even went to special trouble to calm everyone down with announcements that everything was fine.

What's worse, a little panic followed by preparedness, or being unprepared and getting caught with your pants down and a little dick?  They deserved what they got, every bit of it. Too bad we suffered too.

Soon, this medical outbreak turned into a full-out epidemic and within two days, a pandemic. The whole world was fucking on fire with infection. It’s burning itself to death in a big pit of people killing people, infected killing people and everything in between. The world had literally gone to shit.

I hadn't seen someone who wasn’t trying to kill me all day. I thought about ending my misery every second. Why was I torturing myself?  It would be so easy, a bullet straight through the base of my brain. It would be quick and easy, but most of all, it would be over.

Was it all really worth fighting to live?  My hope was the only thing that kept me going. Maybe there was a real reason for hope out there. Maybe she's alive? Maybe my friends are all alive and with her. But, what if she's not?  What if they're not? What's the point of living then? I can't be alone for that long and stay alive. I hated being alone before this shit. I couldn't take it.

Chapter 1 – Out of Touch

It's not even been a full day since the world fell apart, since I lost my wife, since I lost everything that meant anything to me. Two days ago, my plane landed from Saudi Arabia. I had just completed three separate sales that gave me more than enough reason to celebrate big on my anniversary. I sold heavy equipment, terraforming things of all kinds, backhoes, excavators, the works. If it moved dirt, I sold it. And, I was damn good at it too. I never really met a stranger and had made some contacts through my past jobs. Small crappy jobs led to bigger better jobs and eventually, I decided to make the leap into something huge, and huge it was. I was a salesman by birth. In fact, I'm pretty sure if I could have talked, I would have cut the umbilical cord off myself and tried to sell it to my mother as a keepsake. I couldn't help it. It was me.

––––––––

My plane landed at Greenville-Spartanburg International Airport around 5:00 pm. Everything seemed normal in the world. The sky was bright blue and the sun was bright on my face. Life was good.

I quickly hopped a cab and made it home to Michelle, who met me at the door with a loving smile, and nothing else. She was blonde, a few years younger than me, with green piercing eyes and a body that wouldn't quit.

I hated leaving her for even a few days. She kept me sane and I kept her happy. We were the perfect couple.

That night, we made love for what seemed like days. She was always perfect, confident, and passionate. That was our last night together. If I had known I might never see her again, I wouldn't have gone to sleep. I would give anything to see her again.

The morning of our anniversary, we planned to have lunch with friends and then go out to Falls Park and walk around the city. Greenville had a great downtown and we couldn't imagine a more perfect day.

It was what seemed to be a great day to wake up to. It was early, just past 8:00 am.  I woke up to the smell of bacon cooking downstairs.  Michelle was making the best breakfast a guy could ask for; bacon, scrambled eggs, gravy and biscuits.  When I got downstairs, I kissed her good morning and grabbed her amazing ass with both hands. She giggled slightly with a big smile.

––––––––

Michelle looked deeply into my eyes like she always did and I felt how much she loved me.

I have a surprise for you, she told me.

I smiled. Oh? And what would that be?

I have to go pick it up, she answered with a playful wink. I made breakfast, eat it before it gets cold. I'll be back in a bit.

I laughed, we kissed goodbye and she left.

I grabbed a plate, piled up some food and headed for the living room. I turned on the TV and started flipping channels. The news seemed to be the only thing on, so that's where I left it.

As I dug into Michelle’s delicious biscuits, I focused on the screen. At first, it seemed like the normal boring news, but something was different. The news crew kept talking about some health and safety emergency committee the CDC was getting together and there was a possibility of some military quarantines.

Apparently, during our festivities the night before, a hospital in Atlanta had some sort of outbreak. It started with some sort of flesh-eating bacteria, so they said, but it was more than that, much more. The concern was enough that they had quarantined the hospital just before midnight, no one in and no one out. But that wasn't enough. It was too late.

Later, I found out that an ambulance had picked up a couple of homeless people they thought were on drugs. They seemed to be in a state of delirium and weren't responding to the police and medical crews. Both men had bite marks all over them. They were taken to the hospital to be treated, but they had to be restrained for biting and scratching multiple patients. The shit really started to hit the fan when those wounds became infected faster than anyone had ever imagined. In a matter of hours, the bitten and scratched patients were in the ICU, due to extreme drops in blood pressure and intense fevers.

That ER in Atlanta had become ground zero, the beginning of the end.

By the time I had turned on the news that morning, the entire Atlanta area had been quarantined and fears loomed that it might continue to spread.

My first thought was to find Michelle.  I had to know that she was safe. It had been about an hour since she left, so I immediately grabbed my phone and tried to call her. She didn't answer her cell, and my stomach clenched with fear.

I had no idea where she had gone to pick up my gift, and I became frantic. She had to be home soon. I tried calling some friends to see if they had talked to her or knew where she was going. No one was answering. I tried to call a dozen other numbers, but couldn't find anyone. What was happening?

After fifteen minutes of agony, I couldn't wait any longer. I had to find Michelle. I scribbled a quick note on the notepad in the kitchen, asking Michelle to call me if she got home before I returned. I then jumped in my SUV and started to drive. I didn't know where I was going, but I had to try.

No matter where I went, no one was to be found. Woodruff Road would usually be packed this time of day, but not a single car was there. Greenville was a ghost town. Where had everyone gone?  Was this real? 

I must have driven around for an hour and didn't see a single person. All of the shops were empty and there was no sign of any pedestrian traffic. How could this be?  A city as big as Greenville and everyone was just gone.

As disturbing as it was, my only thought was to find my wife. I headed home hoping and praying she was there. When I got there, I was relieved to see her car parked in the driveway. As I got closer though, I saw something was wrong.

The driver’s side door was still open, and the car was parked slightly sideways. She had definitely been in a hurry when she came home. I slammed the car in park, jumped out and ran inside, screaming her name in every room I ran into, expecting her to be there. But, she wasn't. My note sat undisturbed on the counter, my plate of half-eaten breakfast on the TV tray in the living room.

What happened?  Nothing was making sense. What the fuck was happening around me?  I couldn't help but panic, running out into the street, screaming for my Michelle. I should have stayed home and waited for her. Now, she was gone, but where?  Was she okay? I had so many questions.

I sat in the house alone, partially in a state of shock and panic, for over an hour. I didn't know what to do, what to think. Where’s my wife? And then, suddenly, a noise blared outside, the sound like nothing I had ever heard.

Every hair on my body stood on end. The noise was like a fat guy who had smoked his entire life and just climbed 10 flights of stairs, but as if he was trying to breathe normally.  It was loud, raspy and it sent chills down my spine. I didn't know why this sound was so alarming, but everything in me told me to run. I had left the door open when I first came in to the house, and the sound was coming from the street next to my front yard.

I ran to the front window and peeked out. It was a man, walking funny, stepping as if his balance was off. It wasn't just his balance though. Something else about him just didn’t seem right.

I ran upstairs and got my rifle, strapped my pistol to my belt, and slid on a pack full of ammo that I kept handy. I didn't know what was happening, but I was surely going to be ready for anything.

I crept downstairs and towards the front door, looking around cautiously the whole time. I walked outside. The man was about twenty yards past my front yard, in the street. I yelled out to him, Sir, excuse me. Are you okay?

The man turned slowly, like an eighty-year-old man with arthritis from head to toe.

Are you okay? I repeated. Do you need some help? 

His head cocked to the side slightly and he started to walk towards me. His walk turned in to a funny jog that reminded me of a young pony, just learning to gallop. As he got closer, I could make out his features. He looked younger, maybe early twenties, but when I saw his face, I knew he was on something.

His skin was pale, and his eyes had a look of anger in them that chilled my bones. I stepped back and pulled out my pistol, pointed at him and yelled sternly, "Stop,