Alone

For years I have wandered amidst them, but never have they noticed me. Why me? Why did all the others succumb to the disease or hunted down by them. What have I done to deserve such a fate? I stand in the middle of the street, surrounded by them, screaming in their faces, yet they are completely unaware of my presence. I fire upon them, yet they do not see that one of their “fellows” has fallen.

In the beginning, I dared not go onto the streets, but after my neighbors perished while I did not, I began to wonder why they had passed my door without coming for me. At the same time my food reserves were running low, and I knew I had to find some. The streets were still crammed, and I could still hear the feigning cries of the last survivors in the distance. Therefore I decided to go across the roofs by using, what I thought, an elaborate plan. From wood I acquired from my neighbor’s doors I built a gangway of sorts, and, as the buildings in this part of town aren’t placed too far from each other, I managed to slide it between the roof of my building and the neighboring one. Halfway across it the wood cracked and I fell. I prayed that the impact would kill me instantly. I heard something brake underneath, and hit the ground with a loud slam. When I woke up, I saw that I had hit one of them, and that it had cushioned my fall. Its limbs were still moving and it seemed as if it was trying to get up. I got to my feet with some trouble, when I noticed that they surrounded me, but were completely oblivious to my existence. Constantly fearing that they would suddenly notice me and pursue me, I limped inside my building, crawled up the stairs until reaching my apartment. As soon as I was inside, I locked the door. I sat down, resting my back against the door. As I sat there, thinking about what had just happened, I heard a scream. I ran to the windows, and on the street where I had been just a few minutes ago, a young woman was being devoured by them. Since then, I have not seen another human being.

I still try to avoid the streets, but I have to so occasionally, as certain amenities I cannot grow in my rooftop garden. Especially books, films and music are things I look for, as they are the only things keeping me sane nowadays. Some days I will go to one of the lesser infested shops with my shopping cart and fill it with things. The power for my apartment and my electronic devices is generated partially from the exercise bike I found in the apartment above mine, and partially from a gasoline-powered generator. I’ve also tried writing stories. They always have the same themes. A place where all is quiet and beautiful, the birds are chirping happily, the sun always shines, and everyone treats each other well and with respect. A paradise, I guess. This same theme repeats itself in what I read, watch and listen to. Always perfect and predictable.
I have also built a network of solid “bridges” between the buildings around here, allowing me to interact as little as possible with them. But they are always there. As much as I try to ignore them and create a world of my own, they fill every second of my life. But why have I been left unharmed? Am I one of them? Have I just maintained my sanity, while they have degraded into savagery?

They are changing. From the human-like appearance to something else. Their faces are becoming more hollow and their skin shows sign of rot. Are they dying? Sometimes I see them collapse in the streets, never to rise again. The streets are already littered with their bodies. The stench emanating from their maggot-ridden corpses fills my nostrils every time I go outside, so for the moment I observe them from the safe confines of my apartment. But what happens when they are gone? Then I will be alone. I will have nothing to do, but continue this life in an abandoned city. This has to end.

I sit here tonight, perhaps the last of my kind, with a pistol in my right hand. I aim it at my temple, ready. Do I pull the trigger?