I take a good look at my face and I'm arrested by the sight of my eyes. They’re purple. As in indigo purple. What the…

Considering my eyes are normally dark brown, this is strange. I toss my head from side to side, checking out the new color. Not going to lie, it does contrast amazingly with my dyed white hair but seriously, am I going to die or something? Will my eyes eventually turn white and I’ll turn into one of them? Why haven’t I turned into one already? 

Now that I have time to think about it, I kind of feel like I just partied a little too hard and have a raging hangover. Maybe this is all a drunken delusion?

 Okay get it together, H. I decide it doesn’t matter if I’m delusional. As of right now I’m still me, albeit a purple-eyed me, and I need to get out of here. There’s no time for monster theories or picking out outfits to go with my new eyes.

I take out my cell phone to call my dad which, silly me, I was actually expecting to work, and it has no service. I’m stuck in this tiny bathroom with whatever the heck that is out there and no service? I’m about to start acting like a brat and cry about it when I hear a familiar growling right outside the door. Great, more stinky creatures have decided to seek me out. 

I look around and find the window just to the left of the last stall. I silently thank Saint Margherita, the patron saint of pizza. Not wanting to make much noise I crack it open, jump through it, and hit the ground running.

The streets are pretty clear, not much around except random bodies on the floor. It’s like a post-massacre ghost town and I wonder how long I was unconscious for. I check my phone for the time. I figure I’ve been out for about two and a half hours. I kind of want to start freaking out but I know I have to hold it together until I’m safe. I ignore the bodies.

Then from the corner of my eye, I see a beauty, a 1969 Mustang Fastback, all black. It’s a car I would only dream of touching, and if there’s anything I love besides kicking butt, hot guys, and pizza, it’s definitely cars.

I can't take my eyes off it. There’s no one alive around that I can see or sense. Besides it wouldn’t be stealing. I would just be borrowing it to get to safety. I think the owner would be proud. I put the steak knife under my belt and sprint towards the classic beauty.

It’s still daylight, but from the looks of it and the time on my phone, the sun is fading fast. I should try to get to a safe place to stay the night. I don’t know what those things are and I don’t have the time to find out right now. I get close enough to the car to see a body in the passenger seat. It’s definitely moving and is looking worse for wear. Could it be another person? I check the eyes.

Nope. It’s a stinker. I make noises to see if it will get out but all it does is move its head. Is it stupid, I wonder. Probably.

I walk up to the Mustang, trying to hold my breath, and the thing just stares at me. At least it isn’t trying to chase me like Plastic Chick.

 “Hey, want to let me get a ride?” I ask with a smirk on my face as I open the door. Hopefully this thing doesn’t kill me for being an idiot. 

“Is that a yes?” Still no answer. I guess it isn’t much of a talker or its brain isn’t working. 

I spy keys idling in the ignition. Jackpot. Looks like this guy tried to get away before he turned into whatever he is now.

He leans forward and tries to bite my hand. I move it back just in time. 

“I guess so, but sadly you can’t come with me, Mr. Stinks.”

I grab the creature by the hair to pull him out but he begins struggling like a madman. His limbs are flailing and one hand manages to claw at me, striking hard across my neck. It begins stinging in the way that I know it's bleeding. I take a second to hope the scratch is shallow. Suddenly the stinker finds its footing and uses its body weight to lunge at me. 

I try to avoid him but I know I can’t so I slit its throat as we both tumble onto the hard asphalt. I roll out from under his limp form and stand up, ripping off my jacket as I do to frantically wipe off the gunk his neck spewed at me.  

“Damn,” I mumble as I stare down at the thing. I’m not opposed to destroying before I’m destroyed, and I definitely don't feel right letting these things walk around my city, but it seems like a waste. 

I look around at the eerily quiet streets and the urge to get off them hits me hard. The stinker isn’t moving but the car is free and clear. I throw my now gunk-covered jacket over the body and hop in. 

I get in and turn on the ignition to hear the beautiful purr of the engine. Smiling, I hit the road. As I speed along, I rummage through the glove compartment searching for something to wipe up the dried blood on my neck but it’s a no go. I do however find some fast food napkins in the middle console. I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror and I’m grateful to find nothing but a thin scratch underneath the blood. 

The only places I can think to go are home, a shelter, or Costco but I’m better off going home. That’s where my dad would bring Mom and Justin. It helps that we have our own underground bunker at our house. 

As I pass the familiar streets, I notice that they’re also empty. This scares me too but I still don’t care. I was knocked out for a while so I don’t know what I expected. I just need to find my family. 

I speed because hell, I want to see a police officer give me a ticket. In fact, the police would be ideal right now, so of course, they're nowhere to be seen. I watch with exhilaration as the dial ticks past 110 mph. I mean if they honestly care about my speeding at this point, I might as well feed them to a stinker. Nobody gets in the way of me finding out what the fuck is going on.

I finally get home and decide to at least be civil and park the beauty in the driveway. I take my keychain that’s thankfully still in my pocket and unlock the front door to my house.

“Mom? Dad? Justin?” I call out, hoping to get a response. I get nothing in reply. Absolutely nothing. I silently walk around and make sure the house is clear. When I find that it is, I lock the front door and make sure every exit is closed so nothing gets in.

I run to my dad's room and find a couple of his guns with enough ammo to last me a couple of weeks but I don’t feel relief. All the weapons are still here. The house is just like we left it. I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t find any of this because this would’ve meant that my parents would’ve made it home at some point. 

At the same time, I know Dad wouldn’t have risked putting Mom and Justin in danger. I didn't think they would leave me behind either but I can't think about that. I trust they’re safe. That will have to be enough for now.

I grab some clothes and toiletries I’ll need from my room and stuff it all into my black backpack. Then I stash the weapons in my navy, oversized duffel. From there I make a run for it to the secret door to the bunker. I know I’m alone but I can’t shake the feeling that fact can change at any minute. I want to be locked up in the bunker. It's secure and equipped with enough food to last me a couple of years. I can take on whatever comes my way but I need time to think and plan, and I need to be safe to do it.  

I finally manage to open the intricate safety locks on the bunker and walk down into the tunnels. 

“Mom? Dad? Justin?” I yell into the darkness. I sigh in relief as the lights turn on, thankful there’s still electricity but bummed all the same as my last hope that my family might be here dies. No answer and no sign of them.

Sulking, I put the duffel with the guns I got from my dad's room on the bed. Then I turn on the TV to see if there's any news about what’s going on. I mentally thank my dad for the wonderful idea of an antenna TV now that the WIFI is out. I’m surprised that it picks up a signal. Thankfully it shows a few news channels. I choose Channel 5 News at random and a fancy looking woman in a business suit is midway through her sentence. 

“... The president and his family are safe and in an undisclosed location. They took off in Air Force One as of yesterday, officially closing the borders behind them. I will be speaking in his place.” A bunch of shouting emerges from the crowd around her.

The politician looks up from her notes at the podium with a staying hand. 

“All questions will be taken at the end of the announcement,” she says with a raise of her eyebrow. The name Senator Milano, Virginia, U.S., flashes on the bottom of the screen.

She looks so serious as she pauses dramatically then dives back in.

 “We, the United States, are in a state of emergency. According to the Center for Disease Control, our nation's capital is officially under quarantine. Three days ago, what appears to be a virus began spreading through the area. The virus is said to be extremely contagious. The cause is still unknown. While details are still emerging, the severity of the issue is clear. Still, it was with great relief that all of the riots we have been reporting on have stopped and the fires have been put out. The area has been evacuated. The quarantine walls have been put in place and the government is confident they’ve gotten everyone to safety.” 

Multiple clips show on the screen of tanks rolling through the streets of my city. People in hazmat suits are collecting people to bring them to safety. Behind them the streets are burning. Above them there are helicopters everywhere circling the area. The bomb sirens are a constant sound adding to the havoc around the scene. Bomb shelters are lit up and men, women, and children, many holding house pets, are walking toward them in droves.  

My first thought is of course that this woman is insane. I’m still alive and so she’s a big fat liar about everyone being safe. Then something else strikes me. 

“Three days?” I shout out to the TV. “What the hell?” I don’t believe this. I don’t understand how it’s possible. I passed out three days ago and am somehow alive? I missed this, the craziness, the panic of humanity. How could I have missed it all? 

I stare at the screen for the millionth time and notice that yes, it does say Monday. I clench and unclench my hands rhythmically to keep calm. I went to Georgia’s for pizza on Friday. Even with the reality of the situation staring me in the face, I still can’t quite grasp it.  

A male reporter’s nasally voice comes from somewhere in the crowd. 

“What about the people who aren’t in shelters? Are they safe? There are reports that thousands of people are unaccounted for.”

The senator narrows her eyes at the reporter but then she straightens to her full height. 

“As I’ve stated all questions will have to wait until the end. However, the authorities are confident that any person who is unaffected by the virus is safe and inside a shelter. We’ve been doing everything within our power to make it so. Even with a population over 600,000 and the commuters and tourists, we are still certain that those who could have been taken to safety, have been. 

“We ask that you keep in mind that the census is still being counted everyday with the amount of people in each shelter. In addition, it’s difficult to know just how many people were unfortunately infected. 

“As a caring senator to this great nation, I personally will be staying in and overseeing the border walls. We’ll make sure every citizen is in a shelter. Hypothetically? If someone were still out there, I’d warn,” the senator continues with a purposeful deepening of voice, “that they must seek shelter immediately. For those listening from their shelters, if you know anyone who’s still out there, there are military personnel in your building that you can notify. Do not try to leave your shelter. For those on the outside the borders, you have nothing to fear. Luckily, we, your government, have contained the threat. As of 5 o’clock this morning, nobody has been or will be able to get in or out of the posted area until the threat is terminated. For safety reasons, in addition to a physical block from the outside world, all cell towers have been blocked for the time being in these areas.”

A map appears on the screen of Washington D.C. There are red lines right over the diamond shape that completely encompass the capitol. These lines indicate where the border walls are located. Hell, it even blocked off the Potomac.  

I live in the Northwest quadrant, in a neighborhood called Chevy Chase right within the border walls. Whatever was happening it was happening here and only here. How they managed to barricade us and this so-called virus within the 68 or so square miles of D.C. I couldn’t begin to guess, but it was happening.  

The politician comes back on the screen once more and she looks right into the camera. 

“May God be with all the survivors and may this all end soon,” she says with a serious, sad look on her face.

I hit the power button on the remote and throw the thing across the room. 

“Bullshit, Senator Cookie. This is no virus,” I yell at the monitor. 

“This can’t be happening...but that explains the no service on my phone,” I say, a little annoyed. 

“And I didn’t see any damn tanks when I was outside.”  In fact, I was the only living thing for miles besides the stinkers, if they counted. I decided they really didn’t. 

“I bet those authorities inside the shelters aren’t doing shit to help any of us who are left out here,” I mutter. Great, now I’m talking to myself. Alone. Underground. 

My mind starts racing with the news. They probably don't want us calling out for help because no one can do anything anyway. I’m sure they’ve given up on us. I have my theories about what’s happening but they aren't thoughts I can even think to myself without feeling completely insane.

I sit on the bed and immediately realize I smell like garbage. I need to shower now. I run to the small bathroom and turn on the faucet.

Finally, I put my head under the running hot water and enjoy the peacefulness of the moment and take a breather. It doesn't last long though. I still need to find my parents, my brother, and get the hell out of Washington D.C. somehow. The senator said there are borders and I saw the pictures but I don’t care. With my dad’s authority, we can get out of here. Heck, maybe they’ve already gotten out. I don’t know if I want that to be true or not. 

This may seem like a negative situation and all but I have to think positive. Rule number one in combat training: You can't win a fight if you don't believe you can. I remember I’m a badass chick and guess what? I’m going to make shit happen. I reach out to get my towel and pull on my Transformers Pjs. I walk over to the bed and literally knock out from exhaustion