No one could have ever seen this coming.
It was June 25th the day the world ended. Kids were out for vacation from school, the swimming pools were open, and barbeques were finally dusted off and placed outside like ornaments for the season. And suddenly, all the planning, all the gathering, all of the petty materialistic plans were for naught. There was no fire raining from the skies, there was no rapture, there were no horsemen. There was chaos, and then there was silence.
It began swiftly and without notice in the beginning. It presented itself as an illness that struck the lungs – pneumonia of sorts. But within hours of the epidemic, the lungs of the infected deteriorated, causing death widespread throughout the world. Doctors and scientists struggled to diagnose but by this time, it was far too late – the virus was incubating in the corpses of the infected and becoming airborne. Religionists claimed Judgment Day, conspiracy theorists swore that this was the beginning of a zombie apocalypse, but the living, whether righteous or evil, would fall and the dead would remain dead.
On the 27th of June, the streets were still. Survivors were few and far between, more dropping off everyday because to survive, a person had to have several rare characteristics. Intelligence – to know how to create safe air using the domes named Safe Spaces that one brilliant scientist had created and manufactured for such a situation. Diligence – to close their Safe Spaces completely, and every time to secure that no infected air could leak in. And determination – the basic will to survive longer than the virus could house within the dead.
Janine had never thought herself to be the "survivor type". She couldn't make a fire using sticks, she didn't know how to skin a rabbit, or what berries and leaves are safe to eat. But Janine prided herself in being able to follow orders to the letter. When evacuation voiced over the radio, she left her books, her bottle collection, and her prized plasma screen TV to head north. When gas masks were being handed out at every hospital, gas station, and stop sign, she stayed to hand them out. Now, in a world deserted since the last of her dome-mates left and never came back, Janine no longer had orders to follow, only a series of survival repetitions.
It was late evening when the sky got dark and the air got cooler. Cooler weather was a safer atmosphere to travel in because the heat and the sun made the infected corpses more potent, Janine distinctly remembered being reported. Traveling in the heat also made survivors more likely to remove their gas mask. A rubber lining tightly secured against the jawbone and two belt-like straps buckled behind the head were the only things keeping Janine alive when she traveled to the local grocery store that evening to collect more canned goods.
Since Robert left, Janine had seen no signs of life and on her way to the store and the silence was beginning to prod an anxiety into her that she hadn't experienced before. Even inside the store, she began to hear things she knew could logically not be there, like loud footsteps and whispering. Shaking this disillusion from her mind, she shoved can after can into a plastic bag and carried on down the aisle. Suddenly a new sound entered her mental orchestra of phantom noises – a creaking of the large shelf to her left. Instinctively, she turned to assure herself that there was nothing there, just in time to witness the last back-forth sway before the seven foot shelf lunged in her direction.
Janine tried to scream, as if it made any difference, and she closed her eyes as to shield herself from the atrocity she couldn't avoid. In her blindness, she felt something solid and cold hit her body. Or the other way around, she couldn't be sure. She paused for a moment, waiting for some amount of pain to strike her but it never did. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see another gas mask looming just inches from her face. The gas mask connected to a neck, which connected to a body, which connected to legs that were presently propped up on her thighs, forming an uncomfortably sensual position between her and this new person.
In a panic, Janine tore her legs from beneath the person and shoved upward, a defensive move she'd learned in a martial arts class she'd attended so many years ago, sending the person crashing back into the now horizontal shelf. She scrambled to get up and run, reconciling herself to abandon her groceries in return for her safety, when she heard a pained groan come from inside the other mask. Against her instincts, a wave of sympathy fell over her, sending her back to try to help this fellow survivor up. She took the person's hand and pulled them up, beginning her interrogation,
"What in God's name were you doing? You could've been k-"
A low chuckle in a male voice came from inside the mask, interrupting Janine when he spoke,
"I think both you and I know well enough that God isn't here."
Upon closer inspection, Janine realized that the voice belonged to a man about five inches taller than her dressed in a surprisingly clean dress shirt and slacks. It was difficult to tell the man's age without a face, but by his physical appearance and dress, Janine may have guessed him to be in his late thirties. But it wasn't only his cleanliness that struck her as odd – his gas mask looked somewhat different too. Along the jaw-line on either side was a neat line of three screw-heads protruding from the rubber. Janine then realized how long the silence between them had gone on and disregarded the man's oddities altogether.
She shook her head and reached for her bag, making an attempt to end this meeting swiftly,
"Thank you for helping me, but I have to go. I have things to do."
She only got a few steps to the door before he spoke again, causing an intimidating booming echo throughout the store with his volume,
"You're staying at the Safe Space just south of Main St , aren't you?"
Janine stopped at the doors and looked back.
"How do you know that?"
The man brushed himself off, clasped his wrist casually behind his back and walked toward her.
"I've seen you around. Quite a bit, actually. Very little goes on these days… It gets dull, so I watch. But what I do is unimportant – I find you much more intriguing. Janine, right?"
A red flash showed behind Janine's eyes for half a second, an animal instinct of hers that said "run". She turned to glance at the man one last time before gripping the grocery store door, giving just enough time for him to stride forward and grip her opposite wrist. Janine immediately let go of the door, balled up her fist and struck him in the jaw. He let out a beast-like howl and stumbled backward, cradling his face in both hands. Her feet began to shuffle in terror toward the door, her hands looking frantically for the handle as she watched him come toward her again. One hand landed on glass door behind her, sending a small crack to slither through the glass from the impact. His other hand gripped her throat.
"Fucking bitch, I'll-"
Suddenly, his grip loosened and he pushed away, holding his jaw in his palm as he began to chuckle again.
"But nevermind that. It's really not me you should fear, Janine."
He then pointed with his free hand to the back of the store where two tall shadows crept across the floor.
"It's them."