Scourge

Chapter 1

No!

I sit up and clench my shirt. Another nightmare. They've been happening more frequently. Ever since the world fell. Word Falling. It's a clever name, because that's what it felt like when everything went to shit. Everything quite literally fell.

Get it together, Ghost.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and straighten myself out. I have to stay on the move or else they'll catch me. My belongings were strewn all over the tunnel. What the hell happened last night?

They were on your tail.

I got lucky, only escaping their grasp because it was nighttime. The day the government decides to invest in night vision goggles for their agents will be my last day. I grab my duffel bag and put my rifle and medical supplies back in it. I need to get water somewhere. I peek my head outside the tunnel. Dawn had just begun to break. Have to leave now if I want to get out of here.

It's now or never.

I heave the strap over my shoulder and crawl out. It was particularly windy and humid, unlike anything I've experienced before. I don't even think I'm in the same district as the one I escaped from. I near a small park with plenty of trees to use as cover.

Clink.

Something is here. I quickly whip out my rifle and scan my surroundings. Whatever it is has plenty of cover, but the sun is rising. I'll stake out here as long as I have to. Is it the agents? No, if they saw me, they would be all over me already. But why am I not dead yet? Any person with half a conscience would've killed me already if they'd been here before me. People stopped trusting each other when the virus took over.

Scratch.

I take the safety off.

"I know you're there, come out."

I cock the gun and scope out the park. They're close, but not close enough.

Cough.

I lower my weapon slightly. I know that sound. Well not just the cough, anyone knows that sound. But the cough of someone who's trying to force something out of their lungs or get some air in. Lots of wheezing and gasping.

An infected person. I put my gun on the ground.

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

There is a shuffling sound above me, followed by dead leaves falling. I tilt my head back, peering between the branches. All I see is a shoe.

"You can trust me."

"How do I know you won't kill me once I get down there?"

A second shoe, then dangling legs. Finally, their face came into view. A girl.

"I'm Ghost."

She tilts her head before slipping off the branch.

"Do you need help?"

She huffs at my question but looses her footing. She comes down quickly, hitting the ground with a hard thud. And that's when I notice it: sores. I knew it.

"You're sick."

"So what?"

I crouch over her. She's definitely of Latin descent, but her skin is so pale that from a distance, she looks caucasian. Some of her sores are crusty, but new ones replace them. I offer her my hand.

"Here, let me help."

She eyes me suspiciously but eventually takes it. Jet black hair in a tangled mess and green eyes that were, well, kind of boring. Her jeans are torn and dirty, but I doubt I look any better. She looks like she's been on the streets for a while, but surprisingly her shirt is in relatively good condition. Maybe recently stolen.

"How long have you been up there?"

She shrugs and points to my supplies.

"What's in the bag? Drugs?"

She's interesting.

"You gotta stock up when you're on the run. I'm not from around here."

She nods and picks a rock loose from the dirt with her foot.

"What's your name?"

"Frostbite."

"Frostbite?"

She rubs her hands together and starts walking away from me. She has a slight limp, so I'm able to catch up.

"I couldn't think of anything better."

When the world first fell, those who were immune started traveling in groups. Those who were infected lived in The Shelters, the government's attempt at containing the virus. But this virus makes people go crazy. People can't sit still in a building with other strangers for that long, and some are lucky enough to escape. Those who are asymptomatic sometimes get away with it and join the immune groups. By the time the signs start showing, they go psycho. Group members were slowly killing each other and exposing themselves to the government. Now, people travel alone and use code names to make themselves identifiable only to those who are also on the run. Hence, Ghost.

"It's cooler than my name."

She scratches her arm and picks at the skin. I reach into my duffel bag.

"I have something for that," I say, handing her the anti-itch cream.

She smiles and snatches it from my hand, lathering her arms in it.

"Is it okay if I call you Frost?"