Dark Days: Infected

By Greg Nilchavee

This man's story brings to light not only the monsters outside, but also the monsters within. At each turn, he is pushed closer to the edge of desolation, with the rising number of infected ready to send him plummeting over it. Each survivor he meets along his journey remains as nameless as the man himself, but each one represents different hopes that seek to preserve the light that he believes has been smothered by the darkness that rages around him. But the question remains: can he stay vigilant long enough to keep from turning into the monster he so fears to become?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Nilchavee
• Release date: Jul 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311133564

Greg Nilchavee

What is most important about writing is the art of storytelling. I hope that my writing does what a great story should do: make you feel, think, and see something so vividly that it impacts your interactions with the world around you after you've read it. That's because writing is a world all of its own. I write horror, flash fiction, and literary stories that take what we see--even what we want to see--and make it something entirely different. What is most important to this kind of experience is that you leave it saying, "Yep. That was it. And now my world is made anew." I am a writer living in San Dimas, California, and I know that the stories I bring to Smashwords are worth the small contribution I ask. If not, tell me; I want to be a better writer, and I can't do it without feedback. Tell me your thoughts, and show me your stories. Let's share what our imaginations hold together.

Book preview

Dark Days: Infected

By Greg Wilburn

Copyright 2014 Greg Wilburn

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Tape #1

Tape #2

Tape #3

Tape #4

Tape #5

Tape #6

Tape #7

Tape #8

Tape #9

Tape #10

Tape #11

Tape #12

Tape #13

Tape #14

Acknowledgments

About the Author

To Scraps; the best puppy I never had.

Tape #1

It all began on a sunny day in March; so close to my birthday too. Why did such a bad thing have to start on a day with good weather? I thought it was supposed to be the other way around. I remember it like it was yesterday, although it was around four years ago since the world went to hell.

Why am I even doing this? Who would want to remember this tragedy or collect these memories? All I want to do is destroy them and forget them forever. But she says I need to do this; that way, all those we’ve loved and lost won’t be forgotten.

Since that’s the case, let me tell you how this hell came to be four years ago.

I used to work as a janitor before the whole world went down in flames. Not that I’d always wanted to be one, but when the economy was as bad as it was then, and you’ve lost your job on top of it, your only option is to take what you can get. Before my days of vomit cleaning and inglorious toilet plunging, I was a lawyer. I had a firm with three other men I knew in college, and we were decently successful. But that all changed when the economy declined and our practice went under.

Even though I was scraping by as a janitor, I had the life. I had a car, a wife, a kid on the way, and a dog named Scraps. We named him Scraps because he wouldn’t start begging for food at the table until the meal was done, and only the scraps were left. Scraps was an amazing dog. Even though he was only a year and a half old, he tried to act as maturely as the older dogs our neighbor had.

I could always depend on him to brighten my day. He took quickly to doggy training, the usual, you know; not to pee on the couch or to poop in my bed at three in the morning because he was afraid of raccoons. I can remember one incident that occurred just a few weeks before the outbreak.

I walked into the house we’d foreclosed the week before to the sound of running water. That was weird because no one had been home all day. My wife was at the doctor to check on the baby and I’d just come back from work. The only person who could’ve turned on that water was Scraps. I walked into the kitchen expecting him to have simply turned a faucet or spilled a water bottle over, but to my surprise I turned the corner to find good ol’ Scraps peeing into my favorite cookie jar. That set back our training a couple of years for sure. I guess it was my fault in the end because it was shaped like a fire hydrant.

I’ll always remember that, not only because Scraps was such a great dog, but mostly because it was one of the few moments of happiness I felt before I lost absolutely everything.

Sorry for taking so much time to talk about a dog, but he means so much to me when I reflect on him now. Now I feel that I have to introduce the rest of my family. This may take a moment.

I can’t express with words how much I loved them, and now how much I miss them, but I’ll do my best to paint a picture of the most beautiful woman in the world, and the child that would’ve been ours if all of this hadn’t happened.

She was, and still is, the love of my life. I met her in high school. I was a hard working student who happened to be the captain of the wrestling team. I was well-liked by those around me because not only was I smart, but I actually had a personality.

However, that doesn’t compare to her. I think I was in love from the first moment I saw her. She was new to the school my senior year, and to this day I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature. I was walking to my Principles of Physical Science class when I looked over my shoulder and saw her.

She had sandy blonde hair and the face of an angel. Her body had an athletic build that was shaped by all the gymnastics and cross country running she did. It was tempered beneath her more conservative clothes. I never once saw her wear anything too revealing, and I respect her for treating herself with such care and dignity.

She wore deep blue jeans that made her red shoes bud as roses do in early Spring. She had a slate gray shirt on that fit her snugly, but not like a glove. She didn’t reveal too much like other girls I always saw around school. But those things didn’t catch my attention as much as her eyes did.

When I saw those blue-green eyes twinkle in the sunlight, all I could imagine was the meeting between the earth and sea that you find in landscape pictures of faraway places. The way the rocks covered in vegetation meet the crashing sea shows how such natural majesty meets such undiscovered beauty. I can never forget how those eyes pierced my soul and told me of a beauty I’d never experienced in this world.

At first, I’d just glance up at her and keep my distance so I wouldn’t seem too interested. Only once did our eyes meet. I remember it clearly; It was a Tuesday morning when I happened to catch her eyes.

It seemed surreal as we gazed into each other’s eyes, but as the moment continued, her expression changed. The warm glow of interest turned to a contortion of surprise with a hint of disgust. I looked away, and from then on I convinced myself not to look at her anymore; I was afraid of having a restraining order put on me.

As luck would have it, she ended up in my class because her schedule had been messed up at the beginning of the year. I think her being placed in my class was what started our relationship.

Maybe not that; when I really think about it, our relationship started when I went up to her and said hello, and she immediately blurted out in the middle of class, Hey! You’re that guy who kept staring at me across the quad! Nice to meet you! That kept me at bay for a few weeks.

After my embarrassment subsided, I got to know her through our discussion group in class. We became friends instantly; and when I say we became friends, that’s all that I mean. At least from her side of things.

I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but she thought I was a dorky guy who wrestled with sweaty men on a mat because I still didn’t want to admit I was a flamboyant homosexual. We became great friends and spent a lot of time with each other. Then we graduated from high school and kept in touch all summer. I’d drive out to her house at least three times a week to visit her and her family. I took her on multiple outings, which I would consider dates, but she considered them to be friendly outings.

After summer, college is where our relationship began to change. I went to the local university while she took her first year off in order to travel around the country as an intern for a national women’s organization. She told me that it helped empower women to be all that they could be in the world around them.

We kept in touch all that year and were as close as ever when she returned home and attended the same university I was at. I was studying pre-law as she began to study for a career as a first grade teacher; that had always been her dream.

During our junior year of college, our relationship changed even more. One night, as we sat on the porch of her house, she confessed her feelings for me. I confessed mine, and to her surprise, I’d liked her from the beginning. That was the beginning of our life together, and little did I know, it would be the beginning of the end.

Tape #2

We continued to date through the last two years of college. After that, I had the unbelievable privilege of making her my wife. We had the wedding in the local chapel five months after my proposal. It was a simple wedding; she always said the simple things are what mattered most to her.

Soon after, my wife received her teaching credential and started teaching first graders. I continued with my education in law and began to attend law school. It was rough for the first two years, but with her as my foundation and support, combined with my desire to succeed and reach my dreams, we made it through.

During my final year of law school, we found out we were gonna have a baby. We were so excited, and my wife was the most excited of all. This is where Scraps comes into the picture.

Before our dreams of parenthood were fulfilled, I bought my wife a puppy because her baby fever was so intense. Not that I minded though; I was excited at the notion as well. We treated Scraps like our very own child. He made a good replacement, especially when he caused trouble at home.

At this point, the baby was only a fetus and still growing day by day. We were on the verge of discovering if we were going to have a boy or girl when it started happening.

I’m sorry, just give me a moment. This is where the hard part comes in…………

Around the same time I had the idea of a child introduced into my life, the nation was swept with news talking about a new disease that had recently been discovered in remote areas of Tanzania. I only caught a glimpse of a few of these reports, but from what I saw, it was pretty serious.

People were dying at alarming rates, and there were various reports of people eating one another. I remember seeing a picture of the guy behind it all: He was a man, about thirty years of age, and all of his pictures featured him in a lab coat. He had well kept grey hair and a trimmed beard. His face held a smile of pure insanity that spread from ear to ear.

The reports said he adapted this new disease from animal testing and began illegal human testing with it. He captured a group of locals and underwent experimentation. That wasn’t where the danger truly lied; it became a hazard to society, and later to the world, when one of the test subjects escaped into a large city nearby.

The disease spread like wildfire. Over the next few weeks, more and more reports were coming out about the disease and what it did to people once it got ahold of them.

One night, as my wife was putting Scraps to sleep in his doggy bed, I saw the most disturbing report up to that point. Tanzania, along with all of its surrounding countries, were being evacuated. Various videos showed empty streets full of chaos and destruction, with occasional infected people running about. The infected featured in the videos were far from view as the crews kept their distance from the roaming beasts. I couldn’t really see them clearly; it just seemed like a bunch of blurry, specter thin ghosts were running to and fro, flying angrily at any moving object that crossed their paths.

It wasn’t real to me until I saw a close-up of an infected. There were before and after pictures of a little girl that looked to be ten years of age. Her before picture showed a lovely looking girl with nice brown hair and green eyes. She was wearing a blue sundress and had a smile of pure joy on her face. I almost want to vomit thinking about how the disease ravaged her body, transforming her into a hideous creation beyond comprehension.

The after picture still haunts my dreams to this day. It serves as a reminder of my ignorance, the damage the disease caused to my life and the lives of others, and the hopelessness that I still feel in my heart. It’s as if a fresh dagger is plunged into my chest every single day.

Her skin was solid white, making her a walking ghost. Her skin was broken in various places where pus and blood were seeping out. Her brown hair had turned white in a void of color and was falling out of her head. Saliva wasn’t dripping from her mouth, or if it was, it was a green slime that seemed to cover everything it touched in its filth. She could no longer stand up straight; her posture forced her into a contorted position that gave her a demonic presence in the photo. What scared me the most were her eyes; they had no pupils and were white with an insatiable desire to feed.

I would go on, but I don’t think my stomach could handle it. I think I’m used to it now, but at that time I could imagine no greater evil.

A few weeks later was when the real fear, and my horrible present, came to be. My wife had just gone to our doctor to find out the sex of our baby. It was almost like a birthday to us; we had a cake and a full course meal prepared for when she would return with the good news. We were gonna to find out first, and then proceed to tell all of our loved ones of the new joy soon to enter the world. I’d taken work off that day because absolutely nothing would interfere with the relaying of the fact that I would either have a pretty princess of a girl, or a manly brat of a boy.

Clearly, I wanted a girl first. I’d always wanted to have a girl first, mostly because I liked to take care of girls. It always made me feel important and needed. I had years of practice caring for a wife whose beauty shone brighter than any diamond I could put on her finger.

I miss the moment of that day, when joy and excitement had completely taken over my senses. I felt numb in the best way possible. I’d need to feel that numbness for what would happen that day.

About fifteen minutes after she’d left, I was sitting on the couch, dwelling on the fact that I would soon be a father. I flipped on the television and began to skip through the channels. To my surprise, every channel I went to was broadcasting a news report about the continuing infection. It didn’t really catch my attention at first, but after getting to channel three hundred and forty seven, I figured I might as well see what was going on. I think It’s very interesting how a person’s life can be turned completely upside down with a simple news report.

The local anchorman didn’t look his usual professional self. He looked as if he hadn’t bothered to dress up at all that day. Then the report began. I don’t really remember much of the report, but I do remember two specific details: an outbreak had begun in my own hometown not twenty minutes ago. What’s worse is the fact that the sentence that followed stated it began near the office my wife had gone to see our doctor at.

I panicked. I threw on my coat and jumped into my car. I could only think one thing: I had to reach my wife and child at all costs. I told myself she would never become the abomination I had seen on the news a few weeks ago.

I sped down the streets. I don’t recall how many red lights I blasted through on the way to the hospital entrance. I only remember smacking the side of the car against a street dumpster as I took a sharp turn onto a main street.

However, I never made it to that hospital entrance. Upon entering the parking lot, I was stopped by a large barricade of police cars surrounded by various officers holding shotguns. I got out of the car and made a run for the side entrance covered by less police. I was stopped short by a sharp pain against the side of my head.

Next thing I knew, I was being pulled out of a bush by two large officers. My head was pounding audibly as sounds of wailing sirens filled the air. When I was on my feet, the officers told me that I couldn’t go in because the infection had spread rapidly inside, and there was little chance of survivors.

I’ve never begged so much in my life. I threw myself to my knees and begged them to step in and find my wife. They eyed me with unfeeling stares and said they’d never be stupid enough to send in any forces to save a lost cause, let alone a citizen that was likely monster feed. Still, I begged; I bribed, I cursed, and I threatened until I choked on my words.

I couldn’t believe that they’d let the people I loved sit in that monster den and die like innocent sheep given over to the slaughter. Then the officers said they couldn’t help me because they hadn’t received word from the captain to go in yet.

Upon seeing how useless those guys were, I turned to my right and saw a broken window a few feet away. I jumped to my feet and made a run for it. I guess I still had some youth left in me from my days in sports; I looked back and saw the officers at least seven steps behind me as I crashed through the window and landed on the hospital floor. I was in.

I never expected to land in a pool of blood. I never even knew a person could bleed so much. Through the fractured light the room, I could see the blood before and upon me, as well as the silhouette of the hospital receiving room I landed in. I picked myself up and walked into the hallway. The echoes of the officer’s voices chased me, warning me not to tread any further. It was pitch black; I felt along the wall, trying to feel my way through the dark. The stench of death was everywhere; its noxious toxins seeped into my nose and mouth, almost making me vomit at every step.

I made my way down the main hall, going the opposite way of the lighted exit signs at each turn. I knew where to go, even in that dark, cold prison. I‘d been there plenty of times with my wife; we frequently visited her doctor to keep an eye on her precious cargo. I reconstructed the floor plan in my head: Three hallways, two flights of stairs, and one door at the end of the hallway.

I made it through two of the pitch