Memento Mori

Centerpoint Tower; standing two hundred and fifty metres above ground. A masterpiece of human engineering and labour and one of the great sights and love of the city of Sydney. From the top platform the buildings were like large anthills, busting with what would have once been a hive of human activity; the trees were blades of grass and the cars looked like small rocks. Up here I was a giant, so far removed from the rest of the world and so powerful it seemed I could crush the land beneath me with a single footfall. Looking over the land I felt like a god. Staring down at my “children”, I could influence their lives.

But that’s how all this shit happened, right? Other people playing god – mere mortals thinking they could take over the role of our saviour, scientists whose sick abominations of nature had doomed us all. You could see the devastation of their mistakes all around. Rubble littering the road, a mixture of glass, brick, cement and bodies – human remains left to decompose in the open where flies had a feast on their open wounds and magpies selectively ripped out their eyes. Paper rose and fell lazily in the sky like man made butterflies, dry and splattered with red. Red was everywhere; spattered across the streets, the buildings, and the sky – the red even lingered in our eyes.

My hands tightened on the window frame, where the broken panes of glass jutted out in sharp angles next to me. My eyes were sore, having stared at the afternoon sun for far too long. But why should I look away? In this moment I felt more alive than I had in twenty-three years. Here, high in the sky, I was an animal. Stripped of everything that made me human, my thoughts boiled down to mere human instinct and survival. And yet, despite this, I was ready to die.

For just a moment I glanced down, the hand gun resting amongst the glittering shards like a sadistic piece of art. I reached for it, embracing it in my arms like a baby. I cradled it as I considered my options and gathered my thoughts. I never thought I’d consider suicide, not in a million years. I was stronger than that; I was better than that.

My throat coughed out a strangled sob, as in the back of my mind I could see the reaper. He cackled at me from beyond the inky blackness of his hood, his scythe posed to lop my head off at any moment. He opened his hand for me, his cold bony fingers beckoning with me with only the slightest of twitches.

I began to reach for him.

~

They called it the G-Virus. Or so they did until the TV ran out. Then you knew you were in trouble. The cause? No one truly knows. Some say it was the Muslims, that instead of nuclear war they were engaging in a taboo much more sinister. Others say it was the Chinese promoting communism as an ultimatum; join us or die. Some say it was a secret American project gone horribly wrong. Whatever the reason, it happened in the space of six days. First day was infection. It lived in your blood and your saliva, in your urine and faeces, in your semen and vaginal fluid. If it was bodily fluid, it lived. People came into contact with it if the fluids managed to get inside of you. Kissing, sex, syringes, fluid meeting open sores – anything.

Second day the symptoms began. You ran a fever, with constant shaking, sweats and chills. You vomited almost constantly, and if that wasn’t enough to make you want to die, diarrhoea and pain were always there to keep you company. A woman I ran with in the underground before the attack said it her husband described it as if his whole body was burning from the inside. He felt as if his insides were being eaten away by tiny fire ants. No pain killer could stop it. People would just scream and scream and scream, until their voice could no longer force the sound and they would convolute and shriek with their wide, dilated eyes.

Third day a person would go into shock. Hospitals filled with patients infected with the G-Virus could not stop it as a person would lose more fluid then they could gain. They would die. So many people died. It seemed like everyone had a friend or family member that had passed on. Panic was rife all over the world. I remember, cuddled in my fiancée’s arms, watching the fanatics on TV call it “the end of days”, with words like Rapture and Armageddon thrown about like they were everyday language. Funeral services were packed, with some bodies having to lie in the open, degraded simply because there was no room for them.

Sixth day was reanimation. Three days it took – and like a mutant version of Jesus these people rose again. Their bodies kick started, filled with the virus they were the carriers who in turn would infect the next generation of people until eventually those who survived were loners or small groups that only cared for their only well being.

It wasn’t hard to tell who was infected. Most people just called them zombies. Hell, they had died and come back, so how could they not be? There was a general lack of self-preservation among them. Their clothes were ripped and torn, some even completely naked, with caked blood, faeces and dirt clinging to their skin. They did not speak English, or any language for that matter. They screamed in gibberish and muttered to themselves like crazed schizophrenics. The G-Virus had caused not only a mutation of their minds but of their bodies. Huge tumours sprouted from them, leaking puss and blood. Many saw an increase in their muscle mass and size. The G-Virus made them a super human, capable of surviving almost anything but stripping them clean of their humanity. But scariest of all were their eyes. Imagine it – red as blood, red as a butcher’s knife – your irises no longer contained their colour, but had been remade in this sick, twisted red. They would frantically dart left and right, like a caged animal looking for an escape.

I was a generation E carrier, or so I believe. By this time the world had already fallen to hell. There was shooting in the streets, people being torn apart right in front of your eyes, rape and pillaging. If you were not a true infected, day six, even if you carried the virus, you ran the risk of being killed by the zombies.

“Faye… babe… you got to… keep running… come on, girl…” In the underground of Sydney’s railroad we ran, and even with the light that would normally guide the trains, this was squashed out by the amount of bodies pressed around us. Still light did dance around us in strange patterns, carried in flashlights, glow sticks and lighters that others held. They ran like us - men, woman and children all fleeing for their lives. They tried to leave the city.

I had been in the city for work like I always had. My fiancé James and I had been stranded after the initial wave of the G-Virus hit. I was filling in as a news reader for 7’s six o’clock news and James was on hand as the camera man. I certainly didn’t look like any kind of TV personality by now. It must have been funny, my floral summer dress and neat leather jacket paired off with tight pinching farmer boots. I had to leave my high heels behind when we ran; picking the quickest thing off the shelves that would fit me. By now everyone knew the virus was carried through liquid, so no chances were taken.

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse, my breath coming in laboured and coughing gasps. If not for the fact sheer adrenalin pulled me forward, I would have collapsed. My feet were blistered and bleeding within my shoes, my hands shook and sweat. I was terrified, but James and I never parted.

“I-I can’t! I can’t… go... stop, please,” I tried to beg of him. I couldn’t take it. You know what the worst thing of all was? It wasn’t that I felt like I was about to pass out and it wasn’t the feeling of claustrophobia as I was pressed against hundreds of bodies. No… it was much worse than that. I had to keep going and you want to know why? Zombies were not the worst thing here.

What I was stepping on was soft and squishy – not the crunch of gravel or the tapping of metal against my shoes. They were bodies; remains of those who believed themselves fine only to fall ill with the G-Virus or people who had been trampled as they fell. Dead or dying, I paid no effort to check. The smell was the worst, however. Its stench rose from the floor - bile, vomit and the aroma of rotting flesh.

“C’mon babe… not too… far now. Be brave... for me, okay? I love you…”

“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die,” I moaned in between my gasps.

“You won’t,” James responded. I don’t know how he managed it at the time. He must have known like me we were doomed. This place was a death trap – the city itself was a death trap. Yet he stayed calm. It almost seemed like he believed we were running a marathon. He kept me going like a personal trainer, telling me how much he loved me and how amazing I was and how he couldn’t lose me. Even now I think he was the only thing that kept me from dying then.

However, from a few people ahead of us came an ear piercing scream. A woman had been forced down to the ground by a grime covered hand that had hooked itself around her ankle. The source was an infected. Suddenly everyone around me stopped, as if watching her demise like a freak show. I couldn’t see, but it’s not that hard to know what happened. The infected clawed its way out from the other bodies, a worm from a hole, and seizing its prize bit into the woman’s leg. She shrieked and tried to kick it away, but it lunged for her again. This time it hit her throat.

There was a gargling choking noise, and then her cries stopped. Silence…
Suddenly everyone was alive. More people screamed and turned, trying to push themselves away from the infected. It lunged towards them, shrieking in fury and clawing at them with its dirty nails. I only caught a glimpse of its face as it terrorized us. Blood red eyes with mattered brown hair and almost naked – a teenage girl, I could tell, because her large breasts bounced as she leapt towards the people and quick shot of her body revealed she had been wearing a pair of frayed short-shorts. Her screams echoed over the rest of us, animalistic and feral. When I would come to days later, I would call her a screeched. She alerted the horde.

Did I mention that zombies travel in packs? It’s kind of like the movies when you think about it. But packs are good if you’re an infected. Like lions they worked together, ambushing their panicked prey until it wears out or they can get a hit on it. When that happens, they devour it. Her shrieks echoed into the terminals and above. She was to join her family.

That’s when more shrieks and gibberish could be heard. People fell over each other as the horde descended down into the tunnels. James tried to pull me to him, to try and shelter me so we could escape. But it was no use. In vain a falling body severed our link and sent me flailing to the ground. My head connected with the metal of the train track.

I blacked out, but not before I could hear James’ cries for me before his own strangled screams. He was being torn apart by the infected that had killed the woman only moments ago.

~

Was I dead now?

I thought I was. Over the course of what seemed both minutes and days I slipped in and out of consciousness. Dull, throbbing pain ripped through my body, but I was too far within my mind to scream. I saw faces: my parents and their little cottage in Bondi, my brother studying in Europe, my various friends…. I suspect they died, much like everyone else.

It was dark when I woke up and deathly quiet. My head hurt and the chill of the liquids that had not yet been carried away clung to my skin. I moaned and reached my hand to grip my head where I found a deep gash had been carved into my temple. I was still disorientated, not quite knowing what had happened. But slowly the thoughts returned to me.
James.

Suddenly my whole body seemed to shoot up, making lights dance in front of my eyes. In the entire time I was passed out, his face never crossed my mind. I think it was because I knew he was gone. I heard his screams and that of the infected; I could feel the blood as it hit me. As much as I knew he was gone… until I saw him I refused to believe it.

The underground lights flickered around me as I attempted to get to my feet. My hands entered the liquid down below, and I could feel the chunks of flesh and vomit on my fingertips and palms. I didn’t know how long I had been out for. It must have been a while, because there was not a figure in the underground. Regardless, I squinted into the distance, trying to pick up anything usual in the area. Aside from, you know, the littering of mangled, rotting corpses.

That’s when I saw him. Or more like I saw what was left of him – and there wasn’t much. I cried out, but the noise that escaped my lips was more of a strangled gasp as I tried to reach him.

He stared at me, squished between two other bodies - his head… that was all that remained of him – his beautiful, beautiful head and beautiful face watching me from glassy eyes. Already decomposition had embraced him with her choking hands. His cheeks were black and rotting away, his eyes full of a white liquid that had dripped down onto the legs of the body below him, his hair fanned around him and falling out to the ground below. Already some of his skin was missing. Where his body was I didn’t know. But his corpse ended at his neck, where the beginning of his spinal cord shot out from his black flesh like a knife.

“N-No!” I moaned. But it was no use. He wasn’t going to come back. With weak legs I attempted to pull myself to my feet, but only succeeded in a few attempts that left me throwing myself at his remains. When I was close, I tried to wedge him free. But even that was futile. Pushing the bodies away only tore the fragile skin from his face, and in vain his skin clung to my own and wrenched away from his skull. When I was done I was left with an even worse form of him. I held his rotting face in my hands and I spoke to him.

“Please come back, James. Please. Please.” I repeated to him, as if hoping the reaper would appear and restore him to me. I must have looked like I was out of my mind. When I thought about it, it was probably the only time I was sane up until I decided to die. The thought of that amused me.

I didn’t know how long I held him, just willing him to come back to me. But finally I had to accept that I couldn’t bring him back. But that didn’t mean I was going to leave him.
He was light in my arms; an awkward carry, but I managed. I wasn’t going to drop him at the very least. I needed to leave the underground. If another infected was to come down here I was done. With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, I would end up a sitting duck to their screams and attacks.

I must have become desensitised to the smell, because I didn’t even notice it. The squishing and sloshing of my shoes didn’t trouble me either. I walked for a while in complete silence until I spotted a light in the distance. Then I picked up my pace and ran to it.

~

St. James station – so I was still within the city. It seemed like we had been running for so much longer than where I had arrived at. As I got closer, however, I slowed my pace and began to creep towards the platform. I was still on the outlook for infected, but all I saw were torn limbs from other bodies. Finding a free space, I gently placed James’ head on the platform before hoisting myself up.

I wanted to find something that I could carry James in. At least until I… buried him. A bag would do, or a shopping trolley. Carefully I made my way out into the city, but there was still no sign of life. No mindless infected running towards me and not even the single hint of anything bad that was about to happen.

Sydney was just… dead. There was, however, damage everywhere. Broken windows and smashed plaster, and in the distance I could see a torrent of water flooding the street below from a broken water main. I looked up and sheltered my eyes from the sun, trying to work out the time. It must have been midday, maybe a little later. It was hot.

My plan was to find a trolley and get down to the water main. There I could wash and find clothes from one of the abandoned stores. I could take my pick – it wasn’t like I needed to be fashionable. Once dressed I hoped to find survivors, praying they too were planning to leave the city and praying to myself I wasn’t the only one still alive.

~

I was walking through a chemist when I first came across another infected. James had been placed in a trolley I had found outside and I was planning to secure some basic first aid items for myself. Some Panadol for my head as well as band-aids, bandages and anything I felt would come in handy later on in my journey. I even planned on checking the back area, not because I knew what most of the medicines were, but because if there was anything I identified, like penicillin and other antibiotics, I could take them.

I didn’t even hear it until there was a crash.

I gasped and suddenly pressed myself against the wall, my eyes wide as I stared at the closed door. From beyond I could hear scratching and moaning, the signs of an infected. It sounded like the voice of a male, deep but horse.

“Nygadda! Essshaaaaaz… Scrrresssie nadie do… IRAT!” Suddenly the door burst open and he appeared. Just like the others, he was a hulking figure with huge tumours across his arms and face. His clothes, no longer fitting his frame, now hung in rags across his body. He stared at me and I stared back. For a second, neither of us moved. The infected slowly opened his mouth as his blood red eyes darted up and down across my body.

“Rasiiiiiia?” He crooned. He edged towards me, but unlike the other infected almost looked unsure. It was strange. I could feel myself hyperventilating and this did not seem to excite him at all. When he was finally in front of me, I got a taste of just how huge he was. He had to crouch in order to meet my gaze, and his back touched the roof like a hunch-back. He leaned towards me and I held my breath.

…He sniffed me.

That was it. No attack, no having my insides ripped out or my body torn to shreds. Laughable, really, he sniffed me!

“Issi scratas nigii?” He seemed to ask me. Not knowing how to reply, I just continued to hyperventilate, my breath coming out in laboured gasps.

“Issi scratas nigii?” The infected repeated. When I did not reply this time he tilted his head as if he was nothing more than a huge, overgrown puppy. His eyes narrowed, still never finding an exact place to rest on my body. I just watched them, the eyes of a beast, those eyes that could not meet mine.

Slowly the infected backed off. He moved slowly, dragging his great mass across the linoleum. He was making his way outside, until he noticed my trolley sitting in an isle close by. He began to walk towards it.

“NO!” I suddenly screamed. James was in there. James, my lifeline and my love – I lost him once, I would not lose him again.

Of course I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I tried to cut off my scream, but I just didn’t think to react in time. The infected looked up at me, surprised just as much as I was about my reaction. He looked to the trolley and looked to me.

“Imma lara le?” He questioned. I didn’t know what to do. He turned back to the trolley.
“Don’t you dare!” I screeched again, “Imma lara le! Imma lara lee!”

That seemed to do the trick. The infected turned to me for the last time. Whatever he had said that I repeated seemed to have gotten into his infected brain, and he turned away from the trolley and began to amble out the door. I was silent again until he exited. Then I rushed to James’ side.

“I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay,” I whispered to his head, gently patting his hair, “I won’t let them take you again. I promise.”

Though I was confused – I hadn’t been attacked by the infected. It was like he looked at me like I was an equal. How?

In my confusion, I scanned the chemist again for any signs of more infected. It was in that moment my eyes rested on a mirror, broken but still useful. It was contained in a broken vanity that would have once been a display for makeup and brushes. I screamed.

~

Dull red eyes bore back at me from the mirror, as my own red hair sat in a mattered clump around my shoulders. My dress was ripped and torn, and I hadn’t even noticed that one entire shoulder was missing. I reached up to touch my skin, cold and blue, as I continued to scream and scream.

I couldn’t even hear myself, but I knew I was infected. Why else would that infected pass me by and treat me as an equal? Why else would my once green eyes be replaced with this foul, murky red? My stomach began to tighten, like someone had wound tight bands around my intestines. I was sick, I was sick, I was dead – these were the thoughts that vibrated through my brain over and over until they were just a blur. But I couldn’t understand it. How was I infected yet still maintaining my mind? I looked almost human. Despite my eye colour and obvious, unnatural blue skin, I could have passed. In fact, I looked as if I was cold instead of dead. It didn’t help that in my fear I was shaking. My frightened figure with my fiancée’s head in a trolley – gosh I was a sight.

“H-How? It can’t be… I can’t be infected!” My hands rested on the trolley and tightened around the metal. I could feel myself slowly sinking to the ground. But it all made sense the more I thought about it.

The underground… There was a cut on my head – that’s why I wanted Panadol. My face must have been lying in the grime for days. The constant pain, though mild because of my concussion, must have been my body shutting down. The long periods of dreaming would have been my death.

I wish I had died. Some may look at my situation and think me lucky. Perhaps they saw me as a way to cure the disease. Or maybe I was just a carrier. I had the virus, but I could not pass it on. I couldn’t help but think that I was probably more like a Typhoid Mary. Someone with little to no side effects, but capable of infecting everyone around me. I was scared, my hopes dashed of finding survivors. What would they think of me?

I looked to James, whose eyes stared blankly at me. “What do I do?” I asked him.

~

The water was cold, but refreshing. Despite being from a water main, and knowing not where it came from or what it could contain, I assumed that given my current health I might as well have been indestructible. I drank from it and I bathed from it. I was surprisingly thirsty, given the fact I was… well… dead, and upon inspection I found numerous, smaller cuts across my body that only furthered my proof that there was no way I could have just been “lucky”. My old clothes I let wash away with the torrent of water, and I emerged from the street-river completely naked. The trolley I had tied to the door of a nearby shop, which I had placed a towel and clean clothes. Needless to say, though, the water hurt, especially on my feet. I thought they should have become infected, if not already, and I took great efforts to clean the blisters and dress them with antiseptic cream and bandages, as well as finding the comfiest looking pair of shoes to contain them in.

It took me a long time to get dressed. It just seemed… wrong. I had no money to buy these clothes, and even though the world had gone to hell I honestly still expected someone to run and scream that I had done wrong. The whole time I talked to James, attempting to splash him with water and remarking about how odd the whole thing was. I bought him a hat as well… to protect him from the sun. Being out in the heat had caused his flesh to begin to expand and blister further, but at least it wasn’t so moist. But the flies had begun to gather, that annoyed me, and I spent most of my time as I got dressed fanning them away from him.

“I don’t get it,” I spoke to him. “They have so many other people to annoy, why us?” He didn’t reply, obviously, but I could hear him in my head just laughing. “They must love us,” he said to me. I just smiled.

“I guess so,”

~

There wasn’t all that much to say after that. Seeing no people in the area, James and I walked along the street until we found a series of fancy apartment blocks. A lot of the room appeared untouched, and the old security had been broken and smashed. It made me think that James and I could go anywhere. What stopped us from finding a car that worked, filling it with fuel and driving all the way to Canberra? I’d like to go to Parliament House. How interesting would it be to find documents that dealt with the virus? We could have worked out just where it started from. That would have been nice.

The apartment was just as fancy as the outside. We chucked out the rotting fruit and a fly screen prevented any more damage from hurting James. I fed myself for the first time in days and managed to find a small selection of books to read. What was the best of all, however, was the bed. I managed to kill my headache with pain killers and fall asleep in the luxury of a king sized bed and crisp white sheets. James and I stayed there for days.

~

But I found my new life wasn’t as simple as me being acknowledged by the infected. Once they knew of my presence they began to follow me. It wasn’t discreet, either. About a week after I awoke, James and I went shopping in a Woolworths down the end of the block –

…Yeah; I know what you’re thinking: “Why didn’t you bury him, Faye?” I just… couldn’t. I need him and he needed me. I needed someone to talk too, just to vent my emotions and to know that I wasn’t alone. He did that in life, so why not in death? But by this time his face was more of a skull. It was an effort to make sure his jaw didn’t fall from his face and only ragged remains of skin lined his bone. A good portion of the spinal cord had already fallen away. I had saved it. One piece in the pocket of my jeans, the other in my new jacket and one other I had at home. I wanted to make it into a necklace.

I was going through the canned fruit isle, picking out peaches and pineapple to eat after dinner. My diet now consisted of canned foods. I wasn’t too sure what I planned to do when these ran out, but for now I tried not to worry. I had a series of chocolate bars and lollies; some canned salmon and chicken, as well as a whole lot of pasta and sauces. I tried only to buy for a week. That way I could sit on the balcony of my home and overlook the street, watching the infected. I still hadn’t seen any signs of survivors.

One infected always seemed to like to follow me. I called her Mary. She was a small infected, a child of seven or eight in life, whose only remaining clothes were a pair of soiled underwear and two bracelets across her left wrist. She had a large tumour over her nose, almost covering her entire face and seemed to dislike eating the rotted remains of the people around her. Sometimes I’d hack off some of the flesh from the dead that were inside rooms or cool areas and cook them for her – it’d keep her off my back for a few days. Like the first infected I met in the chemist, when she attempted to touch James I yelled out imma lara lee, which made sure she never went close again.

“You’re back again?” I asked her. She moaned and whined and jumped around me, trying her best not to slip on the sloppy remains of fruit around her. Funnily enough, plants were beginning to sprout from the decay. I considered filling them with dirt so I could convert the place into one giant garden once the food here had run out. The infected didn’t like fruits, nuts or vegetables. Maybe they’d starve – unlike me – and all die out.

“Can’t you just eat what you’re given? You must have been so fussy in life.” I remarked, chuckling to myself. I tolerated Mary because she didn’t scream at me. The other infected liked to. I think they wanted me to join the cause? They had terrible propaganda, in any case.

“We don’t have anything for you, do we, James? I’m not cooking any more leg meat for you. If you keep whining you can have dog food. That has meat. It’ll work.” I pat the top of James’ skull, my hands drifting over the cracks in his bone. Only a few brown hairs clung to him, of which I threaded through my fingers. Mary whined again and raised her hands to her head and tried to claw at her hair. It came out in clumps.

“You can whine all you like but that’s not going to change my mind. Not at least until isle thirteen.” I said, my eyes narrowing as I observed her actions. From then on I ignored her until isle thirteen where I fed her canned chicken and lamb dog food. She gobbled it up hungrily.

And to think in life you would have rejected this outright. I thought to myself as I spooned out another can for her. My, my have the times changed. I almost tested the dog food myself, just to see if tasted any good, but I decided against it. I wasn’t that mad yet.

~

Survivors I found half a week after that, but not without consequence.

I had decided to go for a walk around the city, hoping that I had entered a stage where seeing my beloved home destroyed would not affect me as much. As a precaution, just in case I did find a survivor, I had found green contact lenses that I slipped over my eyes. They were lighter than my natural colour, but still passable. James’ jaw was missing now, and I had placed it under the mantelpiece of the apartment. I had the major part of the skull, so I wasn’t complaining.

Because of this, it wasn’t hard to carry him. I had him tucked under my arm, and I would mumble to him occasionally and marvel at the changes that the city had undertaken.

“Oh my god… James, look,” I breathed. We arrived at Sydney Harbour at about ten and what we found was even more of a wasteland than anywhere else in the city. The Harbour didn’t even look like the Harbour. The harbour bridge was gone, all that was left was shrapnel and the rush of the sea as it claimed its victims. A lot of the boats had been blown away, scattered across the ocean like toys in a bathtub. I set James down gently as I walked toward the ocean.

I didn’t dare put any part of my body in there. I didn’t want to risk the sharks or fish that may have found my body an extra tasty snack. The G-Virus didn’t infect animals. As far as I know, it was humans and perhaps close primates to us who became zombies. It was a disease for humans - or more an enhancement for humans if you wanted to go with them being “super human”, lucky animal bastards.

“You never expect this to happen in real life, do you, James?” I asked, turning back to face him. I could feel a sad little smile creep up onto my face. “It always happens in movies. Everything goes to hell but there’s always someone who lives. But that person who lives always seems to have someone who helps them. And most of the time everyone ends up okay and happy. I don’t think we’ve had that luck yet.”

"Not really," his voice echoed in my mind. I nodded my head.

“Don’t worry. Things should look up. I bet… I bet they went to the outback. Imagine the aboriginals out near Bourke? I bet they haven’t even realised what happened and are still hunting witchetty grubs and lizards.” The thought made me sad. All those people in remote areas of Australia; the farmers who lived so isolated from the rest of the world – did they know? I envied them. I would have liked to know nothing, and when I returned from my mustering I could simply live off the land until peace had been restored.

My voice must have attracted an infected, as when I attempted to speak again I heard a crash from behind me and screaming. I turned my head to spot a large, bulky female infected and her comrades – two smaller, more flexible infected. They began to run towards me, before noticing there was something usual about my eyes. My irises were fakes. They stopped in their tracks like stunned deer, watching me and muttering to each other.

“Oh don’t stare,” I said to them, irritated. “My name is Faye. I’m like you. What are your names? You know what – don’t tell me. I’ll call you Bertha,” I began, addressing the bulky female. “And you two can be Bob and Bruce. Don’t thank me.” Like the first infected I ever came across, they acted more like lost puppies than mutated man killers. They whined at me, the infected I had named Bob stamping his foot impatiently. I planned on bypassing them, slowly backing up to grab James in case they went for him. I had my Imma lara lee at the ready just to be on the safe side.

But suddenly there came a large bang. Bob stumbled and then fell like a giant tree, thudding to my feet. I didn’t even realise I had screamed. Blood seeped from Bob, drenching the ground. From beyond, I could hear a female voice. I tried to trace its source. There were two people… survivors.

“Don’t move!” The woman ordered. She was small, with mouse brown hair. Her companion was male, about James’ size, with blonde hair. The infected turned to them.

“Come at me, bro!” The male yelled. The infected seemed to take his words for what they were worth. They ran to him. But like Bob they fell. They were shot in the head. When they were downed, I stood there. My eyes were wide, surrounded by the bodies of the infected.

I realised how we die.

~

Their names were Suzie and Daniel - a couple who had managed to survive by bunking down in a cellar for two weeks until the initial infection cleared. They were on the hunt for food when they found me, remarking with delight that they never thought they’d see another live human but criticising me for my lack of weapons. My contacts seemed to have worked – they never did suspect what I was. They ushered me through the streets, both their hands on my back as I held James in my arms. I was stunned, thinking myself the only sane being left in the entire world. For weeks and weeks I waited, my thoughts seemed to repeat. Why now?

They were staying in a bottle shop. It didn’t worry Daniel much. He tried to joke with me, but I could only nod. What I quickly found out, however, was just how locked up this place was. I guess it made sense. Back when everyone was normal, alcohol was a sought after product so shops had to be fortified. All it did was make me feel like a skittish lion in a cage.

“Why the hell do you always extenuate your I’s or S’? You sound like a fucking infected.” Daniel asked me. It was in the evening now. We were sitting on the concrete floor of the shop, old mats spread out around our bodies to make the stay more comfortable. Daniel was drunk, a can of Tooheys New in his hand. His words struck a cord with me. I shrunk back from them.

“And you carry around that creepy skull everywhere. What are you, some creepy voodoo chick? Thinkin’ you can take on the infected with a head?”

“Lay off, Daniel. She’s probably been through a lot.” Suzie warned him. Daniel leaned back against the boxes of bottles, taking another large swig of his drink.

“I’m just saying it’s messed up, that’s all. We get some freaky warped chick with a head who can’t speak frikin’ English properly without sounding infected.”

“S-Stop it…” I tried to tell him. Daniel just pointed at me, his face turning into a leer.

“See Suz? She did it again!” he said. He pushed himself off the boxes and crawled over to me, discarding his beer can to the floor. I was scared - I won’t lie. He edged to my face, his putrid breath filling my nose and lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

“Wonder if we could beat it out of her. If you want to come with us I don’t want to think you’re any kind of infected, get my drift?”

“Daniel, get off her!” Suzie tried to order him. The young man just laughed, grabbing my neck and wrenching the skull from my fingers. I screamed.

“NO! James, James! My love - give him back! No, no, no!” My screams seemed not to make him retreat but excite him. He cackled manically as he threw the skull behind him to Suzie and used his other hand to push my body against the wall. He tried to kiss me -

I bit him. With all my might my teeth found his bottom lip and I bit down hard. So hard that I could feel the skin break and hear his strangled cry. I was manic. I didn’t know what had come over me. I hissed and thrashed and beat him. His blood filled my mouth and I spat it away as he forced himself away from me. I was shrieking.

“You bitch!” Daniel roared, his lip hanging limply from his face. My teeth marks were evident in his skin. I only laughed.

“Infected, infected iiiiiinfected!” I crooned. My eyes darted to the window, where I saw a familiar shape. Naked bar a pair of soiled underwear and two bracelets across her left wrist - my little infected. She stared at me, my mouth dripping with Daniel’s blood
.
“What?” Suzie cried in shock. She looked to the window and looked to me. “What did you do?”

There was a crash. The super human strength of the infected broke through the fortifications of the door and the metal. I think that because Suzie and Daniel had not been found by the infected they were safe. My arrival had caused the infected to follow me, staying back until I found more. I was a screeched. I alerted them.

The first infected in was a behemoth, towering over the others, a large man with giant muscle. He regarded me, smiling with black teeth. Mary stood behind him, whining and jumping, waiting for his opening attack. I was laughing at it - it was all just so hilarious! Daniel looked on in horror; Suzie tried to get her gun.

“See ya,” I waved my hand at Daniel as the horde descended on him. His animalistic scream tore through the night. I felt his face hit me - The skin of it, laced with brain matter, slapping my cheek. I glanced to the floor where James lay and quickly scooped him up. I looked on as they stalked towards Suzie. She tried to shoot, but there was too many. They lunged.

I turned and ran, not wanting to see her body be torn to shreds. I fled onwards to home.

~

They were not the last. Suzie, Daniel… names flashed by for weeks afterwards, a stream of survivors that seemed to thin in frequency each time I came into contact with them. The infected knew. They knew I was their lead to food. They stalked me, using my apparent innocence as a tasty worm to feed desperate fish. I tried so hard…

Food was running out for them. So they began to scream at me. At first I ignored it. Over time it got louder and louder – some days they would grab me by my arm and fling me so far across the room my body would break furniture or walls. I never noticed if I had broken bones. It never hurt. It must have been part of the virus. I was lucky that my pain wasn’t physical. Mentally I had enough to make up for it…

I cracked soon enough. It happened so suddenly. What I never realised was just how close to James I had become. I thought having him beside me – to carry him everywhere – it would help me. He was my drug. With him I was damaging myself; without I was suffering the same amount of pain. The infected knew this. They used it against me.

I had tried to move from house to house, but they always followed. Always did they scream. I had to clap my hands over my head and scream just as loudly in order to lull them to a state of calm. “I don’t know! I don’t know!” I would repeat over and over. They never understood.

That afternoon I slept under a bridge, hoping that would confuse them. I had a sleeping bag spread across the concrete with my arm as a pillow. The main part of James had been tucked under my arm and the rest of his remains lay in a plastic bag tied to a bike holder.
The Behemoth came. That’s what I called him; the one that had killed Daniel and Suzie. Mary followed him sometimes. I think he was the true leader. I didn’t hear him come. Only when his large mass blocked out the sun drenching my face in warmth did I notice. My eyes crinkled before opening.

“What… do you want?” I moaned. The Behemoth grabbed me by my arm, jerking me awake. My fingers reached out frantically to grab James and I used my finger as a hook to latch to the top of his mouth to catch him. Luckily I did. He was brittle now.

Behemoth began to scream at me, his mouth foaming with bile and decay. Bits of it were spat onto my face. I tried to push away from him.

“Get away from me!” I exclaimed. Behemoth screamed again and threw me back. My body connected with the bridge and I fell forward onto the concrete with a dull thud. James rolled out of my hand and close to Behemoth. The infected had been screaming, but seeing the skull he silenced. He looked to it and to me. My eyes widened.

Infected were never stupid. He knew what it was - what James meant to me. You could see it reflected in his tumour filled face, the vile smile that crossed it. He stepped forward.
“NO! Imma lara lee!” I cried. But it was no use. Behemoth was ruthless. In one step, his large foot slammed down on the skull.

It shattered. I shrieked.

knew now. As if I knew all along. In that moment Jame’s shattered, my destiny suddenly appeared to me. What was I doing? Behemoth had killed my sanity and yet set me free. He thought this would snap some sense into me. My, my; he was wrong.
I realised. I was a murderer. I was an infected. Yet I wasn’t. I couldn’t live like this, I knew. While I lived, the infected had a weapon. I…I could stop that.

I blacked out.

~

A gun… I need a gun. Die, die and die. James - my love - rotting, decay - fly away from me. I am dead; I am alive. Pain. But a gun, a gun, yes - Embrace the devil and Satan you bastards! GOD IS DEAD. A tower, yes, a tower - true death - Yes, yes - How far… fall? Haha!
I run and I climb. Centerpoint Tower; I have come full circle.

~

His hand closed around my own, cold and unnatural, but before my eyes came the most marvellous sight. There was no more Sydney, as from behind the hood and the empty blackness came a bright light. The reaper was no longer an evil, but an angel – a warped Gabrielle come to take me home. He pulled me to my feet, helping to calm my hands.

“Please…” I begged of him, “I’m scared.”

“Faye?” My head shot up, as before me appeared faces; thousands of them - blinking, laughing, living. They were all the people I knew; my girlfriends gathering in a giant group, all smiling and beckoning for me, my parents holding their walking sticks, smiling and tranquil, my brother with his arms around his girlfriend taunting me with his smirk…

“James!” I cried. For at the front of all of them, standing just behind the reaper was my true angel. He smiled at me, an expression I loved so much. I tried to run to him, but it was like a pane of glass had been placed between us. I could not move past the place where the reaper stood.

“You’ve been so brave, babe,” He said, “Now it’s time to come home to us.”

“Will it hurt?” I asked him, tears collecting in my eyes. It was like my words reached out to everyone in the room. They all shook their heads.

“It’s just like falling asleep,” James replied. His form began to flicker as the reaper cast his scythe across him. He was sending him on and away from me. He was the temptation – to trade my life to join him
.
“Wait!” I exclaimed, “Don’t go!” But he was gone and I was alone again… I had always been alone. The reaper continued to stare, before he gestured for me to open my hand, where gently set my gun in my palm.

“It is time?” I asked him. He just nodded. I tried to breathe, feeling the gentle thump of my own heart. My death would mean that I could no longer be used; the infected wouldn’t have a weapon. It was one small win for humanity. I could achieve that. It would be my legacy.
The reaper left me now, too. The light of a ruined city returned. With the gun in my hand, I pressed it to my lips. Loaded and ready, I placed my finger on the trigger.

“Goodbye,” I whispered. I opened my mouth to accept the barrel.

I squeezed the trigger…

bang.