Oblivion Dream - Chapter 2

She ran into the morning sun. Its tangerine glow illuminated the grass, as the dew became thousands of tiny prisms, each a dream of yesterday. Behind her, came the nightmare of today. Every muscle in her body was burning, strained beyond the point of collapse. The meadow was a scene of pristine beauty, but there was no time to consider the butterfly, or taste the honeysuckle. Her brunette hair flew behind her as she ran, and splashed its almond hue over the double-edged machete on her back, resting in a green Vietnam-era sheath.

Behind her, were five assailants, full of gore and violence. Calling to them to stop, negotiating, even surrender - none of these would be of any affect to these attackers. They were unable to speak any intelligible word or phrase, and did not cry or laugh. They did not even eat or drink, though their bodies cried out for sustenance. Unfortunately for Katie, that sustenance for which they hungered was human flesh.

They were getting closer. She tried to quicken her pace, but she could not. Her poor diet and constant flight had sapped her energy, and her muscles simply could not stand it for much longer. She could hear their breathing now. Their faces were covered with grime of every sort - but especially dried blood. For this to be the last thing I hear, the last thing I see....could this be the end? No, not like this. Please. She thought. As if that had been Death's cue, her foot caught an exposed tree root, and she fell rolling and tumbling down a small, oddly shaped hill. When she came to rest at the bottom, she watched in horror as the monsters came running down after her. As if he sensed the meal to come, the closest madman moaned. It was a low-pitched guttural sound, and it could be heard for miles if you were listening for it.

A gunshot rang out over the meadow, and the moaner's head erupted. He stumbled forward, reaching blindly for Katie. She was on her feet now, machete in hand. More gunshots, but some missed their mark. Weaving to one side, her machete sliced into the spine of the headless horror. With that, he crumbled to the ground, but his hands and arms still flailed about, apparently unaware that he could neither walk nor any longer consume its prey. Two other walking corpses lurched in her direction. Her blade cut through the air, rending flesh and bone. The first fell, and Katie turned her blade towards the last. When she raised her blade to hack his small body, she hesitated. He might have been eight or nine years old, before everything changed. She raised her blade to hack his small body, but felt cold, and shuddered. How has it all come to this? The boy had no such reservations. He sank his tiny, blackened teeth into her leg, and she screamed. Without pity, she smashed the hilt of her machete into his skull, and followed through with a downward slice that ensured he'd go to bed without supper.

She staggered and fell, her body drained from fatigue. In the corner of her vision, she saw two men, running towards her at full speed. She started to raise her blade, but realized that the two that approached were survivors, like her. When they neared the spot where she fell, they stopped. "I'm sorry we didn't help sooner. I really am. But this is the end of the line for you. I've never seen someone last longer than 2 minutes after being bitten, and he was a fat man with circulation problems." Said the tall man with the cowboy hat. Her heart almost stopped beating when she heard the man's words. She knew they were true.

The Plague had started in some South American rain forest, or so said the rumors. It had made its way through to the Mississippi Valley over the course of three months, slowly but surely, and largely unaddressed. The industrialized nations considered it a "third-world" problem, the sort of thing you find in those dangerous and uncivilized parts of the world. It wasn't until it hit Mexico that the politicians became concerned. Once the Plague was in Mexico, it spread with unnatural swiftness. The steady stream of immigrants to the border became a highway that the Plague traveled, life by life, all the way to the doorsteps of the United States. And now, it had taken her too.

"I understand." she said. "It is the only thing left to do." She hung her head, and began to cry. Her tears were tears of loss, not the loss of her life but the lives of all the ones she loved. She had made it her only goal to find them, if she could. Now that quest was over. "Please," she said, "please promise me one thing, before I'm gone."

"Alright, fine. Name it." said the shorter man.

"IRemember me. There is no one left to remember that I ever was. They'll be no records or pictures left, and no one else to remember. Except you."

"I..", he began, "will do my best. What name should I remember?"

"Katie."

He looked at her silently for a moment, locking the image of her pretty face in his mind. "It's time." said the tall cowboy. She nodded her head silently. He aimed his revolver at her heart, and shot. Agonizing pain ripped through her body, and she prayed a silent prayer as her life faded, and Death closed his fingers around her eyes.