"Let's go," Mitch declared as Ian cocked the rifle, "You know how to use that?" he asked.

"Of course," replied Ian, "I'm good at this."

"Be careful," Deanna said concerned. They stood up and crept towards the doors as the three stood at the top of the steps with their weapons drawn. They gasped aloud and cringed as a shadow passed by in the light by the window below. The living room was visible from the top of the steps, as was the shadow which stopped in front of the window and quickly disappeared into the night.

"Fuck," Mike replied with a sigh of relief, "I nearly shit my pants." He looked over at Sara who held up her hammer panting and sweating nervously as she looked down the dark steps in fright.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied nodding quickly, "I-I-I'm scared."

"Relax," replied Deanna. Mitch and Ian began to open the eight doors in the halls one by one. Minutes passed as they stumbled upon empty room after empty room discovering nothing but darkness and dust. They finally reached the last room and opened it looking out onto a large window that gazed onto the neighborhood.

By the window, a little girl laid along the floor cuddled in her blanket her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. They looked around at nothing but emptiness and Mitch rushed over to her feeling her pulse and sighed in sadness,

"Well?" asked Ian.

"She's dead," replied Mitch, "Probably starved to death… looks like she's been here for a month or so."

"That's sick," declared Ian as he covered his nose in disgust from the smell of rot. He looked over to Ian who watched in horror, "Tell them it's clear," he replied, "don't tell them about the girl."

He nodded and walked towards the group who stood in attack mode looking down, "Psst!" he called in a gentle whisper, "It's okay." They quickly rushed to Ian's side as Mitch emerged from the room. "Where do we go?" asked Ian.

"I don't know," he replied, "We can either stay here hide in the attic or something, or we can keep driving until we find someplace better."

"Who knows how long that truck will hold out," replied Mike, "We can't take a chance the truck breaking down in the middle of a crowd of ragers, I think we should hide up in the attic."

Mitch walked over to the center of the hallway and looked up at a string hanging down from a door that led up to the attic. He jumped up and grabbed the string dropping the door down as the ladder unfolded onto the floor.

"Can we hurry up?" Sara asked pacing nervously.

"I'm trying," replied Mitch. He unfolded the ladder and looked up to the blinding darkness that awaited them. "Can I get the gun?" he asked as Ian passed it to him. He slowly crept up the ladder and stopped at the top pointing his gun around.

"It's okay," he said, "There's a lot of stuff up here."

He walked down to the last step as everyone began to rush up into the attic; as they emerged into the large space; all the clutter was blanketed with dust; the trinkets and furniture of decades settled along the crowds of timeless photos and instruments.

"Wow," Sara said looking onto everything, "There's a lot of stuff here."

"The owners probably forgot to move it out," replied Mike.

"Or maybe they left in a hurry and left it here," said Mitch. He bent down folding the ladder and closed the attic as everyone sat.

"Well," Ian said brushing dust off a bench, "This isn't what I imagined but it will do."

Sara stood by a small window calmly that looked out onto the front of the house as things curiously died down among the neighborhood but houses continued to burn into ruins; shadows of the ragers could be seen running along allies and streets stalking victims.

"Are you okay?" asked Deanna as she comforted Sara who began to cry.

"I wanna go home," she replied.

"I know," she replied, "But we have to stay here… there's nothing for us out there anymore." Ian looked around the walls at the old heirlooms and pictures, "Funny," Ian said, "Last week, all I worried about was making money and whether I'd ever fuck a girl again… today I'm worrying if I'll live to see tomorrow. One moment can change your entire life… so odd, isn't it?"

"I found a radio," Mike said putting a small old radio atop a chest.

"I hope it has batteries," Mitch said as Mike fiddled with its knobs, "There's no electricity." Mike began turning the knobs quickly as the feedback whistled aloud finally becoming clear.

"This is London," a voice over the radio said, "We're survivors."

"For those of you who have already heard, London is under siege from raging lunatics with red eyes," explained the distressed Deejay, "A mass infection from an unknown source has broken loose faster than any infection on record and those who do become infected become murderous lunatics."

"Scientist has stumbled upon new research and have now determined what the disease is. The medical term they've assigned it is called it "Rage", a rapid fire infection spread through the blood that is spread through the mouth or eyes and through vomit which the infected release due to, what is speculate as the bodies reaction to the infection, scientists are baffled as to its source of the diseases origin, but I think it's safe to assume that it's all too little too late," the deejay said as his voice shook with fear and sadness, "It's been three days since me and Jeff barricaded ourselves in the booth bringing you the details on this worldwide sickness and as I speak, there are many of the infected banging along the doors."

Another Deejay continued talking as banging sounds could be heard in the background, "Many of the religious enthusiasts in London have swarmed to churches and synagogues declaring this as doomsday and judgment day," he explained, "People have barricaded themselves in their houses and are literally fighting each other as the disease continues its devastation."

"One of the biggest riots in world history broke out yesterday," a reporter continued, "as literally thousands of people clinging for some sort of escape rushed the bridges and roadways desperate for an escape from the madness, but many have been either killed beneath the people or infected very, very quickly. People in hospitals have been moved to other hospitals by helicopter or abandoned by staff desperate for escape."

"Abandoned?" a deejay asked in disgust, "There must be millions of people in comas getting torn apart back there."

"What are you going to do?" asked a reporter, "It's hopeless, it's all hopeless."

"This is serious, listeners," a deejay continued, "The pope, the president and every government official is baffled and has raised the terror alert to red. Many of the denizens in cities and countries have been left to fend for themselves against these fiends. There are reports that the disease has broken out slowly in American cities including New York, Detroit, and L.A., but those have been deemed unconfirmed and simply rumors."

"This is the end, people," a deejay said surprisingly calm, "I wish you all nothing but luck and hope you manage to survive the next week or so. We here at WRTS will hold out in the booth as long as possible, but as the days pass we might not live to see you." He began to whimper and broke into normal talk, "Mom, dad, if you're alive, I love you." Mike shut the radio off as they all peered into the speaker, breathless and unable to speak any words, there was nothing to say, there was nothing to do.

"Well," Ian said leaning back, "There it is."

"There's nowhere to go," Sara said as she whimpered.

"I have an idea," declared Ian.

"What?" asked Mitch.

"I have plenty of bullets left," he replied, "I say we pass it around and pull the trigger."

"I'm not doing it," replied Mike, "I still have a lot to live for."

"Me too," replied Deanna.

"Then we stop complaining," replied Mitch, "And we fight to survive. Okay?"

"Screw you, Mitch," replied Mike, "Stop being so fucking demanding."

"Fuck you Mike," he replied, "At least someone is taking control."

"What the fuck does that mean?" asked Ian, "I thought we were all in on this."

"Oh no," replied Mike, "Mitch is always the leader, he's always in control, no one else matters as far as he's concerned."

"You sound like a moron talking like that," replied Deanna.

"Shut up, you little bitch," replied Mike.

"Hey!" Mitch argued, "don't talk to her like that, you fucking prick."

"Quiet down," replied Ian.

"Fuck those freaks, I hope they all break in here," replied Mike, "Look, we're this close to dying and I plan on getting all the dirty laundry out."

"Fine," replied Mitch, "Go ahead Mike, get it all out. What the fuck, huh? You said it, we're all going to die so if you have anything to get off your chest, do it."

"Look at this, he's even controlling an argument," replied Mike, "You're such a fucking control freak. You ever wonder why you never got married or had kids it's because you're a low down dirty abusive prick."

"Abusive?" asked Deanna.

"Damn right, abusive," replied Mike, "This pigfucker beat his girlfriend."

"Oh, that's such a fucking boldfaced lie, and you know it," argued Mitch, "The slut cheated on me and I hit her out of anger, I didn't dog her for four years."

"Meaning?"

"Oh please, look at this," Mitch said, "The world ends and now you ask Sara to marry you?"

"Will you shut up, god damnit?" asked Sara, "None of this matters, anymore."

"You guys are something else," replied Ian with a scoff, "We're sitting on a landmine and you fight." The attic was silent that night as they all settled in and prepared to weather the night ahead of them still unaware of what the morning would bring. Mitch sat along the corner of the attic as Deanna laid her head along his lap sleeping, the dust soon becoming a natural element among the silence.

"What time is it?" asked Mike.

"I dunno," he replied, "Feels like eleven."

"This night is never going to end," he complained.

"Yeah," he replied, "I got an appointment to get a haircut tomorrow." Mike laughed and looked out the window as the moon floated along the dark London landscape, "I'm going to a movie," joked Mike, "Wanna come with?"

"Sure," he replied, "What are we going to see?"

"Whatever," he said, "We'll have lunch afterwards, Whaddya say?"

"Excellent."

Day Three…

The sun arose onto the neighborhood as the noise settled and the sounds of chirping birds echoed in the distance. Sara awoke from a corner looking onto the others who slept tucked together, the sounds of their breathing echoing throughout the space. She stood up looking out onto the street and stepped over the doorway. For an instant, she'd forgotten what was happening and dropped the door as the ladder fell unfolding. She slowly began to make her way down the steps finally stopping at the bottom. She looked around as the sunlight seeped into the windows, not a sound could be heard. A rustling could be heard from within the living room which instantly drew her attention.

Mitch instantly awoke with a frightened gasp and instantly came to a realization as he quickly stood up, "What's going on?" asked Deanna.

"Something's wrong," Mitch said looking around.

"Oh, no," Mike said sitting up, "Sara!" They instantly rushed down the steps as Sara descended into the stairwell, slowly making her way into the living room. She stopped at the entrance and watched a small teenage boy stood in the center of the living room with his back turned looking around, the window smashed. "H-Hello?" she asked curiously. The boy turned growling in anger within an instant and before she could react he leapt onto her, her cries of pain echoed throughout the house as Mike rushed down the steps watching the boy attacking her.

"No!" he screamed aloud as the young boy stood atop her, "God, help me!" she cried out with a desperate whimper as she reached to him, "Help me!" The boy gagged and a pool of red vomit splattered from his mouth all over her face. Her arm dropped to the floor, her body twitching as the boy leapt off her turning to Mike and rushed to him, "No, Sara!" Deanna cried out in horror as Mitch pulled her back. Mike lurched back dodging his attack but within an instant a group of ragers burst through the doors ambushing him as he cried out in terror. They jumped atop him tearing him apart, his hands waving among the group as he let out ear-shattering screams of pain and horror.

The boy turned towards the steps, his eyes bright red, blood seeping from his mouth, his body twisted and bolted up the stairwell as Mitch and Deanna rushed up, his hands grabbing at them quickly as they swiftly climbed the steps screaming in horror. They turned and within an instant Ian appeared from the corner smacking him over the head with his gun knocking him off the steps, his body tumbling down the stairs. Mike's cries could still be heard as Ian watched the boy fall down the stairs. Ian staggered back slamming against the wall as he groaned in panic rubbing his face in fright.

"Ian?" Deanna said in tears.

"Run," he muttered as he rubbed his face. He turned to her, blood all over his face and with a deafening cry replied, "Run!" Mitch yanked her by the arm and pulled her into a room. They ran into a closet and stood hidden in the darkness he stood behind her covering her mouth, muffling her whimpers. "Shh!" Mitch whispered, "Quiet." Ian knelt down on the floor grunting and screaming as he banged his fists onto the floor as blood seeped from his mouth. His eyes instantly began to form a burning red.

Sara lay on the floor near consciousness, her body twitching and convulsing and within seconds she sat up with a hiss and a growl turned towards the stairs and rushed up. Ian let out a thunderous cry and stood up running up the steps. Mitch stood in the closet behind Deanna covering her mouth as the sounds of running echoed through the house. Numerous hisses and growls could be heard as Deanna and Mitch watched through the blinds on the closet door and heard the rustling in fright. All the doors slammed in the distance until the door to their room burst open; Sara and Ian looked around frantically, growling in rage as their eyes peered with a piercing red stare. Deanna nodded in utter disbelief, tears rolling down her eyes as Sara and Ian growled, looking around and twitching, almost communicating with one another.

Sara knelt down and vomited all over the floor, a red pool of blood forming as Ian ran into the hallway; a loud thumping could be heard as he ran across the attic looking for them everywhere. Mitch continued watching Sara vomit and rushed out the door after Ian. The door slammed behind her as she and the groups of ragers rushed around the house up and down the stairs storming rooms.

"Sara," Deanna whispered in tears, "No."

"We have to go," Mitch said panting heavily.

"We're trapped," she replied.

"Any minute they're going to break in this room again and then we're dead," he warned her, "While they're distracted up there we'll climb out the window and get into the car."

"What makes you think they're not in the garage?" asked Deanna.

"We have to take that chance," he replied. He slowly opened the closet and looked out as he heard their footsteps run by. He rushed over to the window and slowly slid it open. Deanna rushed from the closet and climbed over the window sill onto the ledge as he followed. He closed the windows and began walking the ledge for as that moment they burst through the door nearly catching his escape as he walked out of sight. Mitch stood against the wall, Deanna holding onto his arm as the ragers burst through the closet growling aloud in anger as the door exploded with their relentless search for them.

Mitch grabbed onto a pipe shaking it for stability and grabbed Deanna, "Grab onto my neck," he instructed. She looped her arms around his neck and held on as he grabbed the pipe sliding down onto the ground. They dropped violently and crawled under the garage door as the noise could still be heard within the house. They quickly ran to the car and got behind the wheels; Mitch revved up the engine and with a surge of courage exploded through the garage doors driving off into the road. Sara and Ian burst from the windows and ran out into the middle of the road screaming and howling in utter rage as they disappeared into the city. They stood watching as they screamed over and over, no longer coherent, no longer their friend, just ragers now.

Mitch drove looking back at the two fiends that were once his friends and sighed loudly in relief, leaning back. Deanna cried out in sadness whimpering and breaking down emotionally as she lay on the seat. Mitch didn't tend to her or comfort her, because regardless of what he said, it all seemed so futile.

28 Days Later…

He stood looking out the window at the dark city streets as slowly, people ran by, their eyes blood red as they howled in their blood soaked bodies. Everything had died down but they were still trapped in an apartment somewhere across the city of London. It had been a month since that faithful day took their closest friends from them to the ragers and they'd managed to survive together. They no longer listened to the radio, but instead only stood in the darkness of their apartment waiting for the days to go by. Deanna lay on the couch as the candlelight hit her face and looked over at Mitch who was simply glaring into the red eyes of the monsters.

"Quiet," he remarked.

"Yeah," she replied with a scoff, "For once."

"How long has it been?" he asked closing the curtains.

"Oh," she said with a groan lying back, "Feels like months... but it's only been a few weeks or so."

"It's basically over," he declared as he looked out onto the street, "Isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied, "Just us now, no one else."

"I'm going to miss New York," he declared with a smile, "I'm really going to miss it."

Deanna held the cup of water on her belly and lay against the brown couch looking up at the shadowy ceiling as the light flickered and danced among the many trinkets scattered along the room. Her face was pale and scoffed with dirt as her hair had grown over her eyes. Up above them in the apartment; there stood a scattered and basically wrecked room where the ragers had been. A heavyset man's rotted corpse lay against the wall, a gun in his hand, blood splattered from the back of his head against the wall. On the other side of the living room there lay a rager, a young man with messy blonde hair whose body spread out among the floor.

His mouth leaked into a pool of blood among the floor from what appeared to be a fatal shot to the mouth. Deanna sighed and looked over to the candle which nearly went out; the blood from the rager soon formed a puddle along the wooden floors and began to creep into the cracks of the floor. Slowly it seeped through the old wooden panels and into a crack in the floor. Like a wrecking ball, a drop of blood trickled along the ceiling hanging down and dripped down below. Deanna let out a loud gasp and quickly rose from her couch as she began to wipe her eyes; it was so fast, so lightning fast that it struck her like a truck. She gave a light whimper and rubbed her eyes frantically. She shakily grabbed her glass of water, dipped her hand into the glass and rapidly rubbed it.

Mitch turned to her and she lurched back hiding her eyes and rushed to the bathroom. None the wiser he sat on the couch and peered into the candle. "New York," he muttered softly, "New York." Deanna looked into the mirror and grasped her hands onto the rimming of the sink, grasping tightly and softly growling and panting as she peered into the reflection of herself in the mirror, "Oh my god," she whispered, "Oh...my... god." She grasped the rim of the sink ever so tightly and suddenly began to pound her fist onto the sink angrily, "No!" Mitch looked back into the bathroom and walked to the window, "Hey," he called to her, "I was thinking pea soup, tonight... it was always your favorite." Behind him Deanna arose from the bathroom, panting heavily and lunged furiously...

... It was quiet that night, it'd been four weeks since the carnage had ensued and for once he'd walked the streets of London. He staggered quietly along the ghettos watching the ragers run by growling; he furrowed his brow in confusion as they rushed past him. He was weak from hunger but still had enough power to walk along the street of London; he stopped at the middle of the street and looked around at the destruction that had been inflicted. There were many dead bodies, so much innocent people strewn about on the stores. He couldn't understand why the ragers never attacked him. He turned as a young black woman stood across the street peering at him from afar in fright.

"It's one of them," she said to her partner.

"We have to run, Selena," Mark ordered. He yanked her arm and pulled her as they rushed through the streets and ran as Mitch stood there watching them in confusion. Suddenly, he held his blood soaked hands out to his face and gasped remembering.

She was so fast; he didn't see her coming from behind. She tore at him, growling and screaming as she tore at his face, he let out a loud cry of pain calling out her name and knocked her to the ground as she let out a howl, her eyes blood red, her hands soaked with his blood. He stared at her in sheer shock, grabbed a candlestick and smacked it across her head knocking her down. He knelt down over her and began pounding it onto her head over and over for what seemed like hours. She was no longer alive, her head smashed in, and the blood was everywhere. Finally, he stopped and threw the candlestick through the window in horror as he let out an ear-piercing cry.

It was so quick, all but a blur as he ran out into the streets, running faster and faster. He turned slowly and peered at himself in the store mirror; his face was torn, his eyes blood red peering back at him with its blinding cherry glow as blood stains covered patches of his face. He turned to the two survivors who ran down the street and with one last breath let out a horrible howl that echoed through the streets, he hopped up and down screaming frantically, his eyes as red as blood. It wasn't a howl for sadness, nor was it a howl for pain, it was a howl for anger, and for rage... he was one of them now... it really was over ... It was all over.

- END