I can't hold on to this fucking steering wheel. My hands keep slipping off. There's some sort of foamy substance splattered on my hands, mixed with blood, yes, a coagulation of foamy saliva and warm blood.

"Drive faster!"

"Don't' fucking rush me! Just apply more pressure to his neck!"

Don't these assholes understand that I'm basically on the verge of panic? I don't like to be rushed. At all.

"It's gonna be a long night." I exclaim in my head.

There is a little boy on David's lap. He's coughing up the same foamy substance that's on my hands. We found this little boy on the side of the road. He was crawling, and Annie, my sister, was the first to notice him. We thought maybe he ran away from home or something and he was tired. That isn't the case at all.

"Marcus, you gotta drive faster, man!"

I swear to Christ, David. Scream in my ear one more time and I'm going to break your nose when we get home.

"Just stop the bleeding. We'll get there soon!"

Annie is sobbing in the back. Jackson, her boyfriend, is holding on to her for comfort. After moments of silence, David begins to talk to the ill boy.

"Everything's gonna be alright. Remember that. If you can hear me, I want you to say that. I want you say that everything's gonna be alright."

The little boy attempts to utter out those exact words, he coughs excessively. He assures David by nodding his head with positive attitude.

"What's your name?"

The boy sniffles and he wheezes.


David smiles with a single tear forming in his right eye.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Shawn."

I skid into the driveway of our residence. We live out in a rural area. This kid is lucky we found him.

While David and myself are rushing the young boy into the house, Jackson stays in the car with Annie. Giving her words of comfort.

"Alright, Annie. You're going to go in there, you're going to be strong. Look at me. Stop crying. This kid just had a little accident, it'll be alright. He's going to live. There's no reason to be worried."

I throw the door open as David trails behind me, cradling the young boy.

I call out for my Dad at the top of my lungs. I order David to set the boy in the guest room.

"Set him down on the bed, grab the cloth from the shelf, and apply pressure on his neck. Tuck him in, and don't leave that room."

David dashes for the family room. I run up the stairs to meet my Dad halfway.

"What's with all the damn racket?"

"D- Dad. There was this- this kid, and we were driving and this kid was on the- the side of the road. He looked hungry, or homeless, or SOMETHING. I pulled o- over to check up on him and everything-"

"Wh- where is he?"

I am literally on the verge of tears. I don't understand how my Dad understood a single word that flew out of my mouth.

"Guest room."

My Dad pushes me aside, on his way to guest room. I follow his path, and halfway down the hallway, I hear screaming. Struggling, actually. They were adolescent shouts.

I look over my Dad's shoulder to the see the boy having some sort of violent struggle with his own body. Blood was flying from his nose and ears, I couldn't even decipher the placement of his lips, they were covered in white foam.

"MARCUS. PLEASE. DO SOMETHING." David is bawling in the corner of the bedroom. Howling like a sorrowful animal.

I run over to the young boy, hoping to restrain him somehow. I can't get a firm grasp of his shoulders, my hands are shaking. I'm too nervous to even comprehend the predicament we're in right now. The young boy's face begins to flail side to side with extreme force. His face is nothing but a bloody blur. He's speaking, some sort of language. It's not some sort of demonic language or anything like that, he's talking backwards. English words. He's backmasking English words.

I hear footsteps rush towards the guest room. It's more than likely Jackson and Annie. The footsteps stop, and I hear a high pitched scream of fear. I was right, It's Annie. Jackson runs to my side to try and restrain the flailing boy, as soon as Jackson lays his hands on his arm, the boy instantly stops. As if he was freezing in time. Motionless. There's blood running down his eyes and nose. I can't see his eyes at all. They're just, drowning in blood.

The lights shut out. David screams, louder than Annie, I'm pretty sure. There's a loud noise of scurrying flowing all throughout the room. And I mean EVERYWHERE. The walls, the ceiling, everywhere.

David pulls out the flashlight sitting in the drawer, considering the fact that he was sitting right next to it. The bright beam of blinding light hits my eyes, I cover it with my hands.

"David. Get that thing out of my face, dammit. I can't see anyth-"

A loud banging noise occurs. As if someone just got checked by a large hockey player. And I'm somewhat right, David was tackled violently by something. And then I thought about the little boy, and his little episode. The beam of light flies away from David's hands, hits the wall, and rolls onto the floor, shining on his body. And what I saw, was scarring. Everyone scurried out of the room but me.

The boy was on top of David. Sinking his hand into David's body. One hand was on his face, and the other was inside his stomach. Digging for gold. David was screaming. His bloodcurdling, gurgled yelps pierced my ears. It took me quite a while to process what was happening to my brother. I slowly began to walk backwards, just staring at David getting ripped apart by this, thing.

The boy looked back and shrieked at me, it was at this moment that I snapped back into reality. A wave of panic flew up my spine. I ran out of the room, locked the door, and slammed it shut.

I can hear my father calling for me.


I dash down the hallway, following my father's desperate cries. A loud boom blasts throughout the radius behind me. I look over my shoulder. The little shit broke the door open. He's pouncing from wall to wall, ceiling to wall, wall to floor, floor to wall. Chasing after me. He executed David. And he wants me next. I turn the corner at the end of the hallway, just as the boy pounces, I evade his deathly attack.

I manage to get back on my feet, as soon as I stand, Jackson runs into me.



The boy can't see. None of the lights are on. He can't see, I can tell. He can't see, and neither can we. The boy is flying around the house. Searching for us. Shrieking in nonsensical manner.

Jackson leads me into the den. Annie's naive fear proceeds her.


Jackson claps a hand over her mouth, shushing her.

My Dad puts his hand on my shoulder and whispers.

"Don't. Say. A word."

We're all crouched underneath the bar in the den. Annie is sobbing over Jackson's cupped hand over her mouth. My heart is beating. Ready to burst out of my chest and dance around the house.

I hear sobbing. Not Annie, another cry of pain. A cry of fear. More powerful than Annie's.


Jackson rushes up on his feet, Annie tugs at his pant leg, whispering at him. Begging him not to go.

"Annie. I'll be alright. I promise. The boy is in pain. I'm going to go help him."

I slowly glare at Jackson.

"Are you fucking stupid? You're not going out there."

"Marcus, he needs help."


I sigh and lower my voice.

"He's going to kill you if you go out there."

Jackson stares at me for several moments. Breathes out slowly, then dashes out of the den. I look down the ground in disappointment.

I can hear Jackson whispering. The boy is still sobbing, Jackson is trying his best to comfort him.

"He- hey. Don't worry. Just- just grab my hand. We're gonna help you out, kid. Alright? Just grab my hand and we'll fix you up. We'll make you feel better."

I can hear the kid purring. Unnatural purring. I already know Jackson is dead. Jackson continues to whisper to him. And the closer he gets, purring begins to turn into growling.

"Hey. Come on now. Just grab my hand."

A loud demonic, low pitched giggle filled my head. No one else heard it. Only me. The demonic giggle startled me stiff.



I hear a loud screech, and Jackson is tackled to the ground. The wind is knocked out of him, he can't scream, but the boy sure can. Oh, man. The boy was enjoying it. I can hear Jackson's gurgling. I can hear his intestines being grinded into individual slices.

Annie was panting. She wasn't panicking anymore. Jackson's death set her off. She was slowly falling into a vast wasteland of insanity.

"An- Annie. Listen to me. Just look into my eyes. I'm going to take your hand. Okay? OKAY?"

I grab Annie's hand and bring it up close to my face.

"Annie. You're going to take Dad's hand now. Do it. DO IT. Okay, good. Now, when I tell you to stand up, you're going to stand up, alright? ALRIGHT? And when I say run, YOU RUN. Okay. Ready? Stand up, SLOWLY."

This was our chance. The boy was tearing Jackson apart, this was our chance to reach the front door.

"Stand up. Now."

Everyone slowly gets on their feet.

"Okay. Ready? Okay. Just breathe, and follow my movements."

I sigh.

"Run. Go. GO. NOW. GO."

As soon as we run out of the den, a flash of light hits my eyes. As the white flash dims, I notice something horrid. All of the lights in my house flashed on automatically. It was the boy. He manipulated the technology. I look to my right, and I see a decapitated Jackson. His face sliced into three individual pieces. Almost like three slices of bread. His legs are smashed and flattened into nothing. One arm is hanging on a thread of flesh, and the other is hanging inside the gaping void of the boy's mouth. The arm slips out of his mouth. Annie vomits.

My Dad backs up against the wall as the boy slowly begins to approach us on all fours. I can see the anger in his eyes, slowly building. He grins. And Annie faints.

"Annie. No. ANNIE...GET UP!"

I slap Annie in the face multiple times to try and wake her up. The boy shrieks, he then pounces in our direction. I dash backwards to evade its attack. Instead of the boy targeting me, it slams into an unconscious Annie violently. I slowly begin to crawl backwards up my staircase. Watching the boy dig into her stomach. Watching his fingers push into her eyes, piercing her skull. As I reach the corner of the stairs, my Dad slowly backs up into the pantry. The last glimpse I see of the downstairs area is the boy glancing at my Dad.

The boy shrieks and my Dad screams my name. Followed by bloodcurdling howls and the sound of flowing blood. Almost like a calm river.

I am in my bedroom. Sobbing. Pushing my hand over my own mouth to keep from screaming. There is a twisting in my stomach. Grumbling. My eyes open wide, and I let it all out. I vomit. Attempting to breath between the heaves.

All is silent now. Nothing but the sound of hasty scurrying from the boy. It's only a matter of time before he makes his way upstairs. I slowly stand up, accepting my fate. I climb up on my bed, waiting. Waiting for it to claim me. I can hear it dashing upstairs. The lights are still on. I can see its shadow. It's almost up the stairs.

"Come on you fucking piece of shit."

The boy's head peeks over the corner. Spotting my presence. I sigh nervously, and stay still. In the blink of an eye, the boy pounces from one wall to the other, slowly approaching the door to my room. He pounces onto the wall in front of my door. A chill rushes up my spine, and then he pounces at me.

The force was so great that it flung me backward in midair. We were both flying, we were weightless. I feel his claws sink into my back, and I feel his teeth dig into my neck. And then, we blast through a sheet of clear glass. The shattering glass surrounding my body.

A blast of cool, fresh air hits my face. I'm relieved. It feels nice. I open my eyes. The boy is still on me, flailing all over the place. I am flying. Awaiting to hit the ground. Die, hopefully. I twirl around in every direction, and with the boy below me, we hit the ground. Hard.

I wake up. My head hurts. I roll to the side. I can't breathe, I hit pretty hard. I look to my left, and I see the boy. Dead. He broke my fall, and he died from impact.

He bit me. I don't know what this means. Should I be worried? Am I infected? Well, obviously. He was bitten. And what happened? He killed my entire fucking family. I begin to crawl towards the open dirt road. Pain shoots throughout my neck. And boy, does it hurt. The pain is unbearable. The cool air feels nice against my wound. It really does.

I begin to cough up foam. A lot of it. It burns my throat as it makes its way up. So, this is it. I'm going to turn into what that boy turned into. I'm what starts the next chapter in the book of this terrible virus. This epidemic.

I hear the rumbling of car tires slowly approach me. I look over my shoulder to see car headlights.

It's time to start the next chapter. And the people in that car are the next several pages.

Written by NevetS lletxA
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