Its Finally Here!! An Intro For A New Infection

It’s finally here!! An intro for A New Infection

I’ve been dying to introduce this for so long, but my procrastinating ways always trip me up. I hope you enjoy finally having context for my characters

It’s finally here!! An intro for A New Infection

I’ve been dying to introduce this for so long, but my procrastinating ways always trip me up. I hope you enjoy finally having context for my characters

@flashfictionfridayofficial This weeks prompt was fun! It reminded me of the beginning of A New Infection, so enjoy this not so creepy, angst with a fluffy ending, exposition type piece

WC: 988

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Freddie emerged alone. He’d hidden in the storage closet as the world changed irreparably outside. He’d come out of the bunker to save the world, to finally get the credit his intellect deserved. It may have been a selfish act, but he still left safety to help. Those studying the gases before they were released were surely missing something he could add to the conversation. But his plans fell through as he ran out of time.

Now he had to survive alone. He didn’t have the first clue as to how to do so. His expertise lay in the lab, in the classroom; he could master any equation, concoct any solution, solve any mathematical or scientific problem -  within reason, of course. After all, he was only nine years old. 

Since he was young, Freddie didn’t have the first clue as to how to survive. He couldn’t build a reliable shelter. He couldn’t even find more food, let alone make it edible.

By some miracle, he found shelter within the first two days. An abandoned bunker underneath a vacated home of some likely sickly sweet and domestic family. There were, unfortunately, no can openers that Freddie could find, though he didn’t look very hard in the trashed kitchen. His supply of granola bars was running low, and, though he wasn’t as actively fighting for survival anymore, he was now likely going to die a slow death of starvation. 

Hope was not found in the bunker but was instead found elsewhere. 

The spark of hope lit tentatively when he heard movement echoing upstairs. From his own brief, half-hearted surveillance, Freddie knew the doors upstairs were closed. Though not much sound reached the underground bunker, he’d heard crashes at the front door that sent his heart racing with panic before. A person was upstairs. He was not alone anymore. 

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Bella left people behind. She made a lonely figure as she walked away toward a city she didn’t know the situation of. Lying to her sisters made her feel bad - she’d told them she was going to look for their mother, though she didn’t think she’d be successful. The twins had food to last them, a place to stay, a door to lock.

They would be okay. They had to be. 

When she returned, Bella could bring them help, or a solution, or more supplies. If she returned. 

But any hopes of finding survivors or of finding a livable city were dashed as soon as she walked past the suburban areas. The city was in shambles, buildings crumbling, streets cracked, lamp posts knocked over. Her parents told her it would be bad, but it was worse than Bella could ever imagine. 

She was alone on these streets, in this city. The flashes of news she had caught over her mother’s shoulder left little room for hope of many surviving beyond her sisters.

Bella crisscrossed the city, going from dilapidated shops to closets in highly populated buildings, trying in vain to find any good shelter. She was lucky to find what she could. 

But luck didn’t begin to cover what happened next. Against logic, she held onto some hope that there were survivors. And then she found a bunker, and a small boy who had survived somehow. She was not alone.

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Zach found himself alone when he burst out of the cupboard. His father was gone. On some level, he knew that was how it would turn out, but it didn’t make the confirmation any less devastating. He began wandering the streets, searching desperately for company.

Minutes turned into hours, and those hours turned to days. Zach’s legs were covered in scratches and bruises, the cut in his hand not improving. He wasn’t a good judge of wounds, but it didn’t look infected, although it sure wasn’t healthy. Knowing he could last longer didn’t make him feel any better. He picked up basic skills at boy scouts, though they were hard to apply in the city. He could even pick locks, a skill his father found questionable but useful. 

He hid from the people he passed, slipping into nooks and crannies of the city. It hurt to see them hurting; they were driven out of their minds by the gases. Zach was helpless to watch, out of his depth, lost in the world. Physically, he had very few limits, but when it came to what seemed to be biology, it was far beyond his expertise.

Zach did so much alone, for so long. Running alone, hiding alone, hurting alone, fixing himself back up alone. He began talking to himself, just to hear another voice. It had been ages since he heard someone else talk. Sometimes displays in shops flashed enticingly, a somehow intact recording promising company. Somehow, it felt like cheating. He knew he’d cave at some point, but he’d hold out for now, his waxing candle of hope flickering.

On a particularly dire evening, as his thoughts took a turn for the worse, Zach bleakly wondered what it would be like if he had help. In his experience, beyond a select few individuals, people were selfish and coldhearted. They shunned those they perceived as weak, cutting them down, ridiculing softer individuals until they were nothing or they grew a tough outer shell. So it was probably better that he was alone, not having to morally curb anyone else into staying focused on a goal that was more achievable with help. It was better to just survive, leaving the responsibility to find or make normalcy in the world to someone else.

Zach never learned to stop sticking his hands in places, whether accidental or on purpose, despite the advice and many hard lessons learned. He’d gotten stuck bending down and panicked. Movement echoed upstairs and around the kitchen, as it had before when no-longer-people stormed the school. This time it was different. This time he was freed. This time, Zach was not alone.

i use she/her pronouns and they’re comfortable and i’m fine with them, but i love when people use “they” for me. it gives me happy chemicals

Teach boys about periods

My mother also talked about periods to my brothers.

When I first got mine I had terrible cramps. Crippling cramps. I once was camping with my family and a few of my big brother’s friends when my period came. My cramps were so bad that my mom gave me a full pain killer ( I was 13 and before that she only gave me pills cut in half).

I literally laid down on my parents’ air mattress and cried in pain for an hour before the pill kicked in.

My brothers friend came in to the big tent and I was just curled up and sobbing. Now, I was quite the tomboy and was known to rough house with my brothers and their friends and made sure I wasnt seen as just “a little girl.” So my brother’s friend was confused to see me openly weeping in the fetal position (seriously, these were the worst cramps I have had in my life. My vision went white). He asked what was wrong with me.

My big brother stood up immediately and suggested a nice long hike. During this hike I am sure he had a pretty awkward conversation with his friend explaining menstrual cramps, because when they got back the pain pill had (mostly) kicked in and I was sitting up at a table when my brother’s friend sheepishly asked me if I was feeling better. I said I was better, and he said good.

When we made s'mores that night my brother and his friend kept me well supplied with chocolate.

Making sure sons know as much about periods and menstruation as daughters makes them better brothers, better sons better fathers, and better men. A man that understands a period will not lightly accuse a woman of “being on her period” if the woman is in an argument.

Raise better sons Teach them about normal bodily functions.

It’s finally here!! An intro for A New Infection

I’ve been dying to introduce this for so long, but my procrastinating ways always trip me up. I hope you enjoy finally having context for my characters