Basically just a post apocalyptic future  where much of the world population was wiped out by a disease. The intro is pretty self explanatory.

The end of the world began with a cough.

Just a little cough that was dismissed as a cold. But it was not a cold. It was the start of a plague that’d take lives like candy from a baby. Plucking souls like it wasn’t difficult at all.

It spread rapidly, within five years, it had taken almost everyone. The authorities tried to contain it. They tried their best, quarantining areas. Doctors tried drug after drug. People tried to hide, but it was useless. 

One cough led to days of hacking blood up as this horrible disease rotted everything it touched. People nicknamed it the ‘Red Current’ for the bloody death its victims suffered. Survivors were unheard of.

Those who eluded it were lucky. 

I am one of them. One of the “lucky”. Even luckier to have survived a year in this hell. 

Which is bullshit, by the way. Being lucky. Sure, I didn’t rot from the inside out, my death will be much more unpleasant. Maybe I’ll starve to death or be slaughtered by one of the many factions roaming the city streets. I mean, I’m not a person to them anymore. I’m a meal. They do anything for food. Anything. 

Food is everything nowadays, and it’s almost impossible to find. All buildings have been looted by now. Plants stripped of anything edible. Most animals are long gone- dead or otherwise hiding.

I miss the days of cereal and frozen waffles. When my biggest worry was my student debt, and not whether I’d be able to find food the next day. When I could eat something other than bugs and whatever else I scrounged up from the streets.

Just the thought of cereal sends my stomach into a furious grumble. I let out a groan and leaned back, head pressing into the cold concrete behind me. I would kill for normal food. Kill for it. Even just a shitty store bought muffins would be fine. I sighed and wobbled to my feet. The blood rushed to my head as I stood, making me feel weaker than usual.

“Ugh.” I rubbed my temples with my grimy fingers, almost falling down. I needed food, and soon. I didn’t want to end up like some of them. Some of the people so ridden with hunger they couldn’t move. So hungry I just lay there and died from starvation. Or the less merciful way to go- the rats feeding on you. The rats would feed on anything nowadays.

It would be more disgusting if I hadn’t seen the same from humans.

Images flashed behind my eyelids. Memories full of blood and dust and tears cutting through ashy faces.

I shivered and rubbed at my eyes as if to rub away the memories. No use. Just get moving. I told myself. Work always cleared my mind, at least for a little.

Legs heavy, I shuffled from the little one-room apartment I had claimed as my own. It was shitty and smelled horrible, but no one ever came this far out anymore. It was the safest place to be. Survival was the only thing that mattered anymore, comfort was useless.

I wouldn’t say no to the comfort of a bed, though. Concrete and beaten up mattresses did not agree with my spine, judging by the near constant pain I was in nowadays. Just add it to the list of things I miss. I thought, creeping down the deserted apartment hall. Time to go hunting for now, though.

o o o

By the time I got back to my apartment, it had been dark for hours. A risky move, being out so late, but worth it. Sweat covered my face, I probably reeked. But I had food. More food than I’d had in a while, so however bad I smelled, however awful I felt, however late I was out, it was worth it.

Which was another thing you apparently get used to in the apocalypse. The smell. I can’t remember the last time I wrinkled my nose. Thought ‘that reeks’. It’s just a fact now, everything stinks. 

All things considered, the catch had been good. Four rats. The happiness I felt almost made me feel bad for whatever dead body I had used as bait. Keyword being almost. Remorse was hard, especially if it was for something that kept you going one day more.

I set the rats by my makeshift fire pit, a pile of wood, bark, and paper I had scrounged up. I pulled the beaten canvas bag from back and thrust my hand inside, searching for my box of matches. My fingers closed around the small cardboard box and I pulled it out. I opened it and the sight of five matches greeted me. Damn. I thought, pulling one out and looking at the remaining four. Four, goddamn. I’d need to get more, tomorrow, maybe.

I struck the match on the side of the box and tossed it into the pile. The mound went up in flames, red and orange and burning through my fuel fast. I speared the first rat with a small stake and propped it up over the fire. I wasn’t too concerned with burning those filthy animals, they tasted awful either way. 

As the rat cooked, I collected wood from the pile I had stocked up. Most of it was just twigs, branches, anything I could find. Not nearly enough for a real fire. I was about to toss some more on the fire when a loud creak sounded down the hall.

My entire body stiffened. My senses prickled, waiting.

Then the creak came again, closer this time.

Faster than I knew possible, I dropped the wood and pulled my knife from my bag. Feet light as I could muster, I crept across the apartment and opened the door ever-so-slowly. I stayed behind it though, trying to listen for another creak.

What came next was not a creak. 

It was the distinct sound of footsteps slapping on wood. Cautionless steps rushing to my door. I didn’t have time to be incredulous before I was slamming the door open, a loud clunk sounded as the door collided with a skull.

The body fell to the floor with a thump and within seconds I had lifted the person from the ground and slammed them against the wall. I was blinded by panic, fear. What if this person had been intending to kill me? I had no time to take them in, just time to press my blade to their throat, to lean in real close. Threaten them.

“Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now.” I hissed, knife at the base of their neck.