Ark

My eyes shot open, aching from being closed for so long. The room around me reeked, but was shrouded in a cloud of black, my eyes unable to adjust enough to see anything more than myself and a small portion of the floor around me. The floor, tile, apparently, was cold; at least, enough to form ice on my face.
I lifted myself off the floor, legs almost buckling from the sudden movement, but I steadied myself from the nearby wall.
My eyes finally adjusted, allowing me to almost clearly see the small box I was in; a desk in one corner, strewn papers on the floor, with a busted desktop lying near the door. Also present were several slides and a large microscope, which was tossed into a vat of water. At least, it looked like it used to be water.
I fell to my knees, a sharp pain burrowing into my head. I let out a scream of agony, body shaking in sync with the blasts of pain. Images entered my head; people down a hallway, a vault-like door, the desktop showing images of microbes, the microscope; everything in this room was present, even the individual papers.
The pain subsided, and with it, the memories. To fill these, a sense of emptiness and loneliness took over my body, draining my energy profusely. I felt an ache in my throat, and soon I was huddled over, vomiting. I only stayed like this for a few minutes; my previous lunch must have been small.
The floor under me violently swayed, knocking me into the wall, and inadvertently, in the way of a large, metal bed. I pushed myself up the almost-sideways wall, avoiding the heavy death-bed by a mere foot, and crashed down as the room straightened itself before leaning over to the opposite side, sliding both myself and the bed towards the opposite wall.
After the room righted itself again, the rocking motion ceased to a slow cradle, making it hard to stand, but bearable. I walked to the door, but something in my head made me turn towards a lone, bolted-down table. I opened the drawer, recoiling slightly from the large handgun inside. Looking towards the door cautiously, I quickly pocketed the weapon, rushing back over to the door.
Hesitantly, I threw it open.
The light from the hall in front of me was dim, but welcomed warmly by my eyes. The hall, on the other hand, looked like it was from a horror movie. All of it was made from metal, spider webs and garbage littering the length of it. Several doors lined it, all closed, their ship-styled handles lying discarded on the floor.
I slowly moved down the hall, carefully avoiding the doors as much as possible. A crackle emitted from down the hall, intercom slowly coming to life. I felt my skin crawl at the sick mind of the person who was on the other end. Whoever it was decided it would be funny to play music through the intercom system, and it was honestly disturbing how it sounded.
I kept walking, trying my best to tune out the horrid sound echoing down the hall, reaching a door with its handle still attached. I slowly turned it, hesitantly pushing it open just enough to see in the room, and I felt my knees buckle.
The room- hall, being the better word- was the size of a hotel. In the middle, following the hall was a slim, rusty walkway, leading to the gigantic wall across from me. I shifted through the crack in the door, curiosity overtaking caution. I slid the door farther open, the eerie music from before filtering out into the gigantic room, echoing into my very being.
They sweep the walls, they crawl and crawl, to kiss the light
I felt my stomach churning, the mere tone of the voice singing making me want to vomit; monotone, yet ominous. I started across the walk, sticking near the railing.
They creep and crawl
I wanted to find the sick minded guy who was playing this; what I would give to put him in his place, I thought to myself. I was halfway across the walk, and the music was even louder than in the hallway, echoing everywhere; in the room, in my ears, even in my head.
In the dark, as she walks, they creep and crawl
I looked up, smirking slightly when I saw an intercom, and kept walking. Let him play it, I don’t care anymore, I thought cockily.
Reaching the large wall, there was a rusty ladder bolted to it, reaching up to the roof of the giant room. Shrugging, I took hold of the first rung, pulling myself up slowly, looking over my shoulder when a scream echoed.
From the hallway I had just come, there were people; three of them, skin boiling with what looked like tiny explosions in their veins. The sight made my already churning stomach light on fire, my pace quickening, memories hitting my brain painfully all the while: My name is Thom McKinley, I am a microbiologist from a medical school in Maryland, I have a deceased wife and single daughter, the world was hit by a deadly viral disease five months ago.
Viral disease? Wait- that microscope in my room, and that water, it couldn’t be, could it? I wasn’t taking a chance. I quickened my pace even more, doing the equivalent of a sprint up the ladder as the individuals writhed in agony below me.
As I reached the top, I threw open a corroded hatch, the handle coming off after it was halfway open. The air smelled of salt and death, and as I scanned the horizon, I could see where the salt came in. Those passengers and I were on a gigantic ship headed straight for an island that looked uninhabited.
I felt slight relief from this, hoisting myself up onto the deck. This relief lasted mere seconds, my shoulders dropping from the sight on the lower deck of the ship. Bodies of other passengers, their skin burst in several places, boils formed on the rest of their skin. Despair hit me in a wave, crashing over my head and all the happiness in my body. I sank to my knees, tears of defeat stinging my eyes, hand gently brushing against the handgun stuck in my belt.
My eyes shot open, and I firmly grabbed the handle of the large-barreled pistol, lifting it into my view. Ensuring the clip was loaded, I swallowed, moving the instrument of death to the side of my head, closing my eyes once more.
Before my finger could even tense on the trigger, I heard a ship horn, and turned my attention around me, disbelief mixing in with despair. This wasn’t the only ship. There were several ships, possibly two dozen, all headed for the same island.
All headed for the same fate as this one.
I shook my head, cursing myself and the virus, raising the gun once more to the side of my head.
The bullet never came. I shook the pistol in my hand, wanting to scream but unable to as I felt my arms boil in pain. I lifted my sleeves, revolted by the sight of my arms; blotchy and burst in several places.
I pushed the gun against my head again, pulling the trigger multiple times before I felt a hand connect with my face.
I looked to see a nurse in front of me, taking my pistol and scolding me for “leaving my room.” Next to her was a large man holding a tray. She tossed the pistol onto the tray, picking me up by the arm, and started hauling me back towards the hatch.