Chapter 1: The Beginning

I created this, a new land. The word employment is now meaningless, without a means to employ, no positions to fill. People scattered and re-grouped in colonies all over the globe, now spending every second of their no longer monotonous business focused lives, trying to survive. I created this, a new world overtaken by a deadly disease that rapidly sprawled across the land pushing the human population close to extinction, punishing anyone who dared not to flee. I didn’t intend on this happening, nor did I purposely force innocent civilians to suffer, but we all make mistakes, right? My name is no longer important, neither is my existence. I have resentfully played my part in this calamity, but the story has only just begun…

A handful of individuals, after fleeing, assembled a camp site hugging the coast of Cassal Cove. Overrun by infection, all businesses and towns collapsed, so the survivors now have no meetings or prior commitments, all they have in their lives is the will to subsist and rebuild. Stocking up on ample amounts of food, collected from the remains of the nearby town, is a vital group task to ensure energy to fuel their wearing perseverance and patience. Without, they will not live for much longer than a week.

Time can be laughable, sometimes. It’s funny how three months can pass you by so quickly, like how mothers always speak miserably but proudly of how quick their children grow. Or when people speak of dying, their life flashing before their eyes in less than five consecutive seconds. It’s been three months since that fateful day, it feels like years… I wish I could forget.

I never grew tiresome of waking up to the smell of fresh, steaming oatmeal in the morning and stimulating, salty ocean breeze tickling my nostrils. My grandmother always prepared breakfast at sparrow fart to catch the sun yawn, rise, and beam like a diamond, reaching its warm rays over the earth like it was giving a hug. It was the same routine every morning, which is how I sensed trouble when the oatmeal was cold, and the sun wasn’t beaming, it was burning with fury. Quickly slipping on my socks and hugging the staircase rail for speed, I stealthily scouted the kitchen: empty. Everyone tries to hope for the best and look on the bright side, so I convinced myself that my grandmother was probably still in bed, although it was odd, it was probably for a comical reason not to sweat over.

Taking advantage of my morning vitality, I hopped one leg over my bicycle and rode into town. I wasn’t surprised that the paths were vacant so early in the morning, living in the age of inactive adolescences, and working mothers and fathers. The air was icy fresh, and blew up my polo shirt making the hairs on my neck stand tall like soldiers in attendance. The further into town I found myself, the eerier the atmosphere felt. Flicking my eyes to my wristwatch, the dial read past 9am, the ritual opening time for shops, yet none seemed to be.

Parking my bike and casually strolling into a nearby bakery, seemingly the only store in a few blocks open for business, I peered around corners for any clues as to the absence of a busy hum of people on a regular day in the markets. The baker seemed to approach cautiously from behind a bread rack, tightly grasping his utensils in both hands, in front of his chest as if he were protecting himself.

“You, you’re not.” The baker stuttered and shuffled his feet nervously.

            “You’re not, sick? Are you?”

Enlightened with the beautiful morning aura, I replied light heartedly,

“Apart from a mild snotty nose and a slight gas issue, nope, I’m all good” and chuckled to myself, but the baker didn’t seem at all amused.

The oven timer rang incessantly in the background as the baker paced between counters, busily preparing food. It became apparent that maybe the lack of roaming morning citizens wasn’t a co-incidence, so I probed the baker with more questions.

“Is there some sort of, uh, town meeting on this morning? A big gathering that could have possibly, you know, called the entire town to one out of sight place?”

The baker discontinued his duties, obviously realizing that I was completely dumfounded as to the absurd emptiness of the town.

“Look, I’m not sure how you’ve missed out on this, buddy, but there ain’t many people healthy these days. Terrible flu or, some sort of terrible disease caught on to everyone… been all over the news and media. My whole family got it, all bar me, touch wood! Not sure what I’m doing here, I guess it’s one of the only places left I know ain’t infected. Don’t you have any family? A television? newspaper maybe? It’s all over, you should go check it.”

The Baker shuffled off lazily, obviously disinterested in explaining more so I shoved my hands deep in my jacket and walked out. It was past midday already, and the streets were still bare. I hopped onto my bike and headed home, hoping grandma had woken or at least returned. I hadn’t heard anything about a deadly flu, and grandma certainly hadn’t mentioned it to me.

Grandma and I never really cared much for TV’s, magazines or newspapers, so I guess it’s no surprise that we’d be the last to know of a town threat. As I steadily rolled into the driveway, I remembered why I relished residing outside of town, hugging the coast. The wind carried a quiet ‘tink’ of a teaspoon caressing the lips of a mug to my attention, the sound my grandma was known for making to calm herself through stress.

 

I hugged the side wall all the way to the back of the house, the wind blowing furiously around my feet as if it were attempting to lift my weight and carry me away. I spotted my grandma in the corner of my eye, sitting silently, tapping her spoon rhythmically in an empty cup. My empty stomach grumbled as I approach my grandmother with warmth.

“Hey! Grandma! Where were you this morning? I left for town in the morning thinking that you had gone out for breakfast! Couldn’t find a single soul, it was weird. Do you know what this baker guy said? He sa…”

“Brandy.”

As softly as my grandmother spoke, I always found it remarkable that with a single word or command, her surroundings froze, awaiting for instruction, or information. I stood, immobile, waiting for a response.

“Please, sit down sweetheart. I was here all morning, I feel this may be the last time my shabby skin may bathe in the warmth of the morning sun. Please, listen Brandy, I am unwell, I do not know any easier way to explain, but, you must leave this place. Something terrible has spread through our land, our home is no longer safe.”

In shock, I stood steadily like an elder tree in the wind, trying not to look distressed. My grandmother looked out to the ocean and took in a painful, deep breath. I had never witnessed her being ill, nor did she show the mildest signs last night when we said goodnight.

“The Baker… grandma has this got something to do with what’s going on in town? Some deadly disease or something strange?”

I looked through the back window so she couldn’t see my eyes. I felt so much emotion running through me I wanted to run, until my body collapsed in exhaustion. There was something horrible happening, and it was fluctuating heavily in my stomach.

My grandmother stared blankly into the distance. Her eyes spoke more than she could ever explain. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to know what was happening. I heard a shuffle directly behind me, like someone shifted their weight from one leg to another. I turned around dramatically to find the local doctor, Weston, standing awkwardly against a wall.

            “Turg. Good morning.”

He smiled the way my father used to when he lied to me, like he thought I was fooled. Although his face portrayed happiness, his eyes sung a dark song I could never comprehend. If a man’s eyes are exposed, truth is inevitable.

“I called Dr Weston this morning when I awoke, for help, and guidance. You two must leave this place, this town. The fate of our race has become inevitable.”

I bit my lip in attempt to hide the water welling behind my eye lids. I couldn’t believe that this was happening; it was like a horror film.

“Death will chase you, my dear boy. But you can both fight it, you MUST fight it. I am already a threat to you, so you must go, now.”

An icy chill crawled up my spine and I clenched my teeth.

“Grandma, I cannot- please- I will not leave you, alone to die…”

She smiled, the way she used to every now and then. When I asked her why she looked so smug, she would reply, ‘because my boy, I am blessed with you. I could not be more proud of the young man you have become.’ A single tear droplet gently rolled down her cheek and only her hand, which reached out for a small, triangular shaped tablet on the table beside her.

I shot a glance at Dr Weston, who was wholly focused on my grandmother. His lip trembled as he spoke softly and calmly.

            “No pain, I can assure you.”

My grandmother smiled again, but her eyes had turned black like a void of sorrow and loss. With her trembling hand, she placed the tablet on the tip of her tongue and turned towards the ocean, her hair blowing wildly behind her.

“I must leave you both, now. I no longer have a place on this earth that I am willing to fill. I am sorry, my boy, please understand. I do not wish to suffer. Do as I say and go, with the Doctor, you will both be safe. I love you dearly, Brandy, I d-“

As she collapsed to the ground I lunged forward to brace her fall. I wept softly as I gazed down at her face. She didn’t resemble the fair grandmother I had once had; she looked frail, helpless and empty. Weston was standing above me, looking down upon us both curled and entwined together in an unbreakable bound.

My grandmother was the only thing I had left, and she was far more worth than money, property and life itself. Good luck if the man who took her away thought I would walk away with him.

I left that place, of death and betrayal. Confusion and pessimism flooded my mind and took control of my actions. Weston was in on it, the death of my beloved grandmother, and she expected me to pair up with him? Had I even had a say in this? Where was my right to have choice where I go, who I see, what I say, who I lose-

“Brandy, please, listen. I am so sorry, I had to follow you here, your grandmother would not have wanted you to be alone at such a grave time. We must act quickly, and we must act now if we are to survive this environment, this deadly disease. Your grandmother was dying, and she asked me to help her. I gave her a pill that would make her sleep, and not feel any more pain or suffering. We kept it from you because she was afraid you wouldn’t let her, but it was her choice Brandy, she had a right to make that choice.”

I stood still and listened intently. Although through the lack of trust and friendship I had with Weston, I could hear a pain in his voice. Human emotions can be so palpable that they are nearly impossible to overlook.

            “I understand, Weston.”

I shifted my feet through the leaves and faced him.

“No, I don’t understand, actually. Nor do I forgive you, or pity you. But I will stay with you, and try to bury this moment in memories of her-

My grandmother obviously trusted you, so I will have to learn to. Where should we turn? How far has it spread? Is there somewhere safe?”

Weston sighed and tangled his fingers through his pockets, the way people do when there are too many coins in their pockets, leaving no room for stick-like limbs to pluck them out. He handed me a torn piece of worn down sandpaper and instructed me to flip it over. On the back, written in red ink pen it read;

(Follow the sun, and you shall see it rise another day)

Reviews

[Post Pen]

I like the first paragraph!

- EDIT- see my version at the bottom of the coment

I never grew tiresome (tired?) of waking up to the smell of (fresh -delete) - oatmeal. (Is oatmeal ever other than fresh?) steaming ( knit-picky but steaming is not a smell) oatmeal (in the morning - most people wake in the morning) (and stimulating,- delete) the salty ocean breeze. (tickling my nostrils. - delete) My grandmother always prepared breakfast at sparrow fart to catch the sun (sun's first yawn? rise?) yawn, rise (we need rise too?), and (delete the rest of this sentence)beam like a diamond, reaching its warm rays over the earth like it was giving a hug. It was the same routine every morning, which is how I sensed trouble when the oatmeal was cold, and the sun wasn’t beaming, it was burning with fury. Quickly slipping on my socks and hugging the staircase rail for speed, I stealthily scouted the kitchen: empty.(He's going down the stairs or still in the kitchen? If he wasn't in the kitchen he couldn't know that the oatmeal was cold - I'm confused) Everyone (hopes) for the best and (look on the bright side- same as hopes), (so- delete) ( new paragraph) I convinced myself that (my- delete / we can guess she she is your grandma) (probably - delete) still in bed, (although - Delete and start a new sentence) It was odd, (and I hoped the reason was comical.) (it was probably for a comical reason not to sweat over.- delete)

Just my edit. Hope it helps.

I never grew tired of waking up to the smell of oatmeal and the stimulating ocean breeze. My grandma always prepared breakfast at sparrow fart to catch the sun's first yawn.
It was the same routine every morning. I sensed trouble because today I didn't smell oatmeal and the sun wasn’t beaming. The sun was burning with fury. I quickly donned my socks. I hugged the staircase rail for speed and made it to the kitchen downstairs in record speed. I stealthily scouted the kitchen: empty. Everyone, including me, hopes for the best. I quickly convinced myself that grandmother was still in bed. It was odd and I hoped the reason was comical.

[DC Patterson]

I wish I could offer you both a drink - first to congratulate you on beginning an interesting journey, that I and other will follow you on. Secondly to soften my purely waffling opinion.

I found the tone a bit heavy in places where a light touch might have found the wind and filled your sails. I found the final words of Grandmother too much, too many words and then she pops off suddenly...it's a bit lumpy for me - but I'd probably chew Shakespeare's ear for something similar out of my ignorance.

I love the note scrawled on sandpaper, and how it fulfills the prophesy of your opening words. We know what they are running from, and where, and we assume you will tell us how - but now I have to read on in the hopes you tell me why.

Good stuff - see you in the next chapter.

[Flower Meadow]

I find this to be intriguing. Even though I do not usually read things that are so long, I find this to be not what I expected. It kept my attention the whole time. Nicely done.

[Rayann]

I'm not too big of a fan of the post-apoc genre, but you have clearly got a ton of talent! I'll be staying tuned to see where it goes from here!

[WeatherTattoo]

Thanks alot! we don't plan on it staying a post-apoc style for the entirety we have lots of ideas for it!

[C.C. Marx]

I really like the concept and the details! Great start, keep it up

[WeatherTattoo]

Thanks! Ill remember to keep an eye out for updates from you!

[C.C. Marx]

I really appreciate that I will be waiting for future chapters!

[Zeph]

A-a-a-a-aAwesomee :))
I always enjoy a well written book in first-person :D

I think you have an interesting storyline going onn
shelved your bookk

[WeatherTattoo]

I'm glad you're enjoying it! Chapter II should be up later tonight!

[Zeph]

Hooraaaay

[Adrian X Fuentess]

I am a fan. Right now. The format that it is written caught my eye, and its content is even more amazing.

[The Fallen]

Very good start

[WeatherTattoo]

We will try to post a chapter at least once a week!