Author: KilgourTrout PM
Another man named James is left alone...Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Horror - Words: 855 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 09-28-08 - id: 4564660
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It was dark and the only light came from the faint glow of Jame s's cigarette. He puffed it in and out of his mouth and blew the soft smoke threw his nose. A light breeze came and blew the light brown ruffles of Jame s's hair. The rage infection had come only 28 days ago. James had been awoken to the sound of loud screams in the distance. When he had run down to the lobby of his apartment the city was deserted.
Now he has been sitting alone in his apartment for the last 28 days. He was up on the 37th floor and had the doors and windows barracked. The room was drafty but warm enough so he could wear a light amount of clothing. The cold had come two months ago and James had to resort to burning his favorite classic books.
James was a young man of only twenty-eight. He had lived alone in London for a year before the rage virus had broken out. He had long ragged brown hair and a bony face. Patches off thick black facial hair were growing all over it. His nose was long and seemed to curve just a bit.
He was just sitting there now, alone in the middle of his living room, puffing on his shortening cigarette. The city had been quiet for a couple days now and James was beginning to think he was the last one left in the whole country. The electricity had been off for two weeks and the only light was now from sun and candles. James reached down into his pocket and took out his book of matches. He slid the match across the back of the book and the flame ignited. He then lit three candles around him, picking up a book he began to read. Reading became his only escape, an escape from terror and the utter and terrible loneliness that he felt each and every day. James thought about maybe leaving this place someday to find someone...anyone. Leaving could be a terrible idea if there were anymore infected left in the city. Once the blood from the infected went into his blood stream he would have the virus. It took you over almost instantly. You would begin to loose your mind, attacking and destroying any human you see. Blinded by the sickness you would no longer feel love or compassion for anything ever again. James thought this to be very sad.
The sun began to make its way over the horizon and light spread into the living room. The light brought him comfort. The light also brought him hope, hope that someday things will be better. He has lost all contact with his family. The lived back home in the states. He did not know if the virus had reached there and he hoped that it had not.
Suddenly a sharp scream came from the street below. James shot his head up from the book and grab the gun that was resting behind his door. He moved the couch away from in front of the window and looked down to the street below. He held his shot gun in front oh him and was prepared to use it. He saw nothing but but the streets and building, he was alone. From no where a loud bang came from outside his door. He was shaking and so afraid. His gun was held up and ready to fire.
"Come on!" James yelled. "Go ahead and come in!"
The door bust open and tall man in a suit came running in. He was obviously infected and ready to attack and kill James. He ran at James so fast that he had no time to shoot. James ducked away behind the fallen couch and shot his gun. He missed and cursed at his bad aim. He looked up again and unloaded three shots into the mans chest. The man fell back threw the door making a loud crash. James lifted his head from behind the couch. He walked over to the man and bent down by his side. He did not know this man but he felt great sadness for him. Somewhere out there was this mans family. They would never see or here from him again. James began to cry and dropped his gun. He knew that if there were more of them out there then they would have heard the commotion of his last battle. The time had come. He could no longer stay here. He had to leave and fast.
James ran into his bedroom and began to furiously through clothes into his backpack. He put on his sweatshirt and hood, grabbed his gun and ran out his door.
James was bolting down his stairs and out the front door into the cool city air. It was the first time he had been outside in twenty nine days. The light bothered his eyes and he pulled his hood more over his head as began to run down the street, searching for a car to hot wire.