The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire (2 page)

I don't get what they were
thinking,
making it public
like that. Of course everyone would
panic. Maybe they thought the people needed to know what was happening, to help
stop an epidemic or something. All I know is that they put trust in us, but we
were afraid. Really afraid. Like I said, fear makes people act
rashly
, makes them do things they aren't proud of. We turned on each
other, and before it could get back under control, the virus changed.

Just like that, on the
six-month anniversary of the very first outbreak
, the virus got even worse. It started
killing people who were still in decent health, they got up faster after dying,
and they weren't slow or easy to handle when they came back. For all of our
preparations, nobody was really ready. Not for something that severe. A lot of
people died, which meant a lot of zombies happened, and the problem kind of
escalated from there.

I don't want to pitch this
like the whole world is dead. It isn't. There are strongholds out there, more
than a few, communities that are well fortified and prepared. The
rotters
might be fast and strong, but they're not superhuman.
They're only bones
and flesh
. You put up a metal door, they stay
out.

In fact, and I'm doing my
best to keep my hope in check here, the reality is we'll probably have a cure
before too long. The labs are supposed to be under heavy security, and the guys
inside are pretty well-motivated to end this. You just have to be able to k
e
ep your head down and stay safe until it all blows over.

The problem is getting to
any of these places. People were paranoid, and again, we all knew how things
happened in the movies. "Get out of the city, the city is the worst place
to be!" So that's what everybody did. They crammed everything into their
cars, all tried to leave at the same time, fucked every road around every city,
and then wound up hearing that the safest place to be was the one they just
left behind.

As it turns out, the
military had responded to the whole outbreak pretty quickly, establishing huge
outposts in a lot of major cities, and they were generally doing a pretty good
job of keeping people inside safe.

I guess despite the usual
story stereotype, the military wasn't all that incompetent after all. Figures.

T
he end result was a lot of people were
caught outside these militarized safe zones with no fast or safe way to get
back in, myself included. They weren't just going to leave the gates open for
people (or zombies) to walk in at their leisure, and supposedly they didn't
have the extra hands to keep the surrounding areas cleared. Every resource was
dedicated to keeping the camps and hospital areas safe, and that meant a lot of
other places were left dangerous.

Thinking about it now,
that might be why the military has gotten such a bad rap through all of this.
They should have had enough people, right? I mean, they had all these safe
zones, but we all know how large they are, how much money is spent on them, all
of that. How did they run out of hands? How did so many people get killed under
their watch? It doesn't make any sense, but it doesn't really make a difference
either,
I guess
. It happened how it happened
. Can't change that.

At any rate, the closer
you get to an outpost, the more danger you're in, all thanks to the number of
people trying to make it inside. More bodies means more noise, and noise means
zombies. It's like a feeding frenzy just waiting to happen, and I don't want
any part of it. I'm not exactly a specialist when it comes to surviving, but
I'm smart enough that I can hold my own.

Probably.

I guess I don't really
know what else there is to say. I told you what/
where/
when/how,
but, that's all I've got.

"Who" is anybody's guess, and the same goes for "why." All
these people dead, and if the reports were right, it isn't like there's one
country that's just fine while the rest of us burned. The whole world got hit,
from the rich to the poor. We didn't even have a group claiming credit for it
all, which was strange in itself. You'd think this was a terrorist's wet dream,
if they were really responsible. Even if, or when, when we recover... there's
no guarantee we'll ever get a real answer.

It's too much to think
about sometimes. For now, it's about time for me to find something to eat. I'm
going to leave this journal behind, just in case. Wish me luck? God it feels
weird writing to myself like this. Whatever. I'll wish myself luck. It'll
probably make about as much of a difference anyway.

- Natalie

    slap
scratch slap scratch slap scratch

    It
was just like that, back and forth, a perfect rhythm that never stopped. One
hand, barely more than tattered muscle and shredded skin, splatting dully
against the boarded door. The other, now only a rasp of jagged bone at the
wrist, slowly gouging a way inside. It might take an eternity, but it would dig
through the barricade eventually, filing away one thin sliver of wood at a
time.

    slap
scratch slap scratch slap scratch

    Natalie
let out a low sigh. Her writing had been a minor reprieve, but the reality of
what waited for her outside hadn't changed. In some part of her mind, she had
hoped that someone would come by and take care of the problem for her while she
was distracted. She wasn't surprised that it didn't happen. As much as she
might hope, she knew there was nobody coming to help. She was alone. Setting
her journal aside, she paused a moment to let her hand linger over its cover.

    "No
food, monsters abound, and I'm worried about what's going to happen to my book...
that sounds about right, though calling you a book might be a little
generous." She chuckled weakly, her fingers slowly tracing the raised
lettering that marked its front.

    It
was a common spiral notebook, sporting the crest of some community college
she'd never heard of. Hardly something you'd glance at twice, but one of her
most important possessions, regardless. It was one of the only items she had
that reminded her of how things used to be. At the very least, it gave her
something normal she could do, and "normal" was hard to come by these
days.

    slap
scratch slap scratch slap scratch

    A
quick peek from her window revealed the scene outside hadn't changed much since
the zombies' arrival. Natalie had been holed up in some little off-the-road
neighborhood, making an impromptu hideout in one of the abandoned houses there.
The place hadn't been scavenged, so food and water had been in decent supply.
It was two stories, like most of the homes around, and she had a good view of
the area from upstairs.

    More
importantly, there was a tree with a branch big enough to hold her weight that
came close to her window, if she needed to make a quick escape. She'd even had
company for a little while, though he turned out to be more trouble than he was
worth.

    Natalie
never knew his name. They'd never actually talked, but he had been in the house
across from hers. There was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance, both
preferring to take their chances separately, but it felt friendly. They used to
wave to each other, and while it wasn't much, it felt good to know there was
somebody alive nearby.

    He
had nailed thick boards across his downstairs doors and windows, and he looked
like he would be able to hold his own in a fight. The upper floor was
unfortified, and sometimes they'd just watch the street together from their
perches. There had never been any zombies nearby, but that was bound to change
eventually.

    It
turned out to be sooner rather than later, and Natalie was the first to spot
them. There were only two, and if he had just kept calm they would have passed
by without incident.

    slap
scratch slap scratch slap scratch

    
Natalie had come to hate that man. It
was his fault those monsters were still out there. He could have at least tried
to fight them before taking the easy way out. She hated him, but it was the
memory in her head that bothered her the most. The way he had just sat there,
howling at her from his open window, his eyes wide and panicked.

    She
wanted him to shut up, to stop begging for her help, but when he stopped... it
was worse. She watched his body sag, saw him slump down to his knees. She had
seen a lot of terrible things since the outbreak, but that empty look on his
face cut into her.

    She
didn't realize he had a gun in his hand until he raised it to his head. Out of
instinct, she had closed her eyes. The gunshot split the air, and when she
opened her eyes again, the only indicator that he had ever existed was a red
mist draped delicately over the window frame.

    Now
she saw it whenever she blinked. Seared on the inside of her eyelids, the last
expression of a broken man, his blood vibrant against the white paint of his
home. The zombies that had been trying to get into his house
responded to the noise even more violently. One managed to get halfway through
a window on his lower deck before getting caught on something. The other was at
his door,
slap scratch
, slowly working its way through.

    Natalie
swallowed the growl in her throat, spinning away from the window. She'd just
have to be quiet, and careful. She could go out through the back door and make
her way through some of the other homes. With the amount of stockpiling
everyone had done in light of the crisis, she was bound to find something she
could eat. Plus, thanks to that idiot firing a gun, any
creep
s that might have been waiting inside the houses would be making
plenty of noise trying to get out. This might be a blessing.

    It
took her a minute to do a once-over of her supplies. She had a knife, used more
for cutting through obstacles and opening cans rather than flesh. A
small
crowbar, hefty but light enough to use and perfectly suited for
zombie-related troubleshooting. Swim goggles for keeping various body fluids at
bay while the crowbar was "solving problems," a backpack for bringing
back any hard-earned spoils, and heavy gloves to keep her hands safe and clean.

    It
should be enough to get her into the neighboring houses safely. As a last
minute thought, she grabbed an empty can of peaches. An empty food can is light
and makes a fair amount of noise when thrown. It could make for a good
distraction if she was in a pinch.

    Feeling
as prepared as she ever did, Natalie stepped out of her room and started toward
the stairs. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and despite her best efforts
to reassure herself, she couldn't deny that she was afraid.

    Those
things would tear apart people who were actually trained at keeping their cool
during a fight, let alone somebody like her. She'd never cared about fighting,
and she wasn't exceptionally strong or fast. Virtually no advantages against a
walker
if she got backed into a corner. The thought of being
face-to-face with one of them was putting her even more on edge, and so when
she rounded the corner and saw movement, her heart jumped clean into her mouth.