Enter scene: Detroit 2019

I remember the day the world changed, when the infected took over. It was a sunny day, yet another spent sitting in traffic.

*sirens speed by, screaching can be heard in the distance*

“I wonder what the problem is?”

“I don’t know, seems like everyone is pretty on edge today.”

Flash forward: 2021

I ran faster than I ever had in my life back to that sanctuary, if that were the best way to describe it, nothing but a boxed off fire station in the middle of a war torn city. We make for the front doors, three or for sick people chasing after us, we knew they wanted shelter but we couldn’t risk infecting the rest of the group.

We slam home the doors, fumbling for their locks. I remember seeing the look on their faces, a sad yet twisted look, disease had obviously taken hold in all of them, they weren’t quite feral yet, but given another few days we would see the full change, the insanity that follows the sickness.

We catch our breath as they slam into the double doors, pounding and screaming against the safety glass. I check my weapon for ammo, a commodity which was at best, rare these days. We make or way back through the twisting and winding halls of the complex- which was about two city blocks long. Finally reaching our destination, we pull off our protective garments, soaked in sweat. We continued through our decontamination process in what used to be a locker room of sorts for the firefighters who had previously occupied the station, all of which were either long gone or dead now, nothing but their dusty turnout gear left behind as a ghostly reminder of what the old world used to be like.

We finally make our way into the sanctuary, everyone huddled in silence, nothing but the light from candles to show their haggard faces, everyone struggled to survive now, men who were only in their late twenties now looked as if they’d lived a hundred years.

We’d lost another group member to sickness, the body of which was promptly placed in a body bag and thrown over the front gate with the rest of the people who had once been human.

The body bags jerked and prodded, they had finally turned completely.
I never knew the woman’s name, but her husband and two children sobbed over a picture of her at the memorial wall, where everyone else had gathered.

I gave a long sigh, as funerals like this were now becoming more and more common.

The entry teams, the ones who left our sanctuary were immune to the disease, that’s why we were sent out into what now looked like one of the nine rings of hell. There were few of us, but we were trained well, we called ourselves Pathfinders, a term which we held dearly. We were the one’s who snaked through the underground and open city blocks, with shield and sword- as if we were fighting a uniformed enemy in some Old World war.

I left my team member to grieve with the rest of our flock, choosing to drink my pain away instead, deciding that numbing the pain with whiskey was a far better alternative than sobbing like everyone else. Besides, we had another run to make the next day, and I needed to be focused in order to navigate the maze of our city once again.