I'm surrounded by thick, soupy darkness. I blink several times, wondering if I've gone blind. Yet, shapes clutter the space in front of me. Hazy forms sway back and forth where they stand, resembling stalks of grass pushed by a gentle breeze.

The smells assault my nose. It's a mixture of rotting meat and spoiled milk and the familiar blend of salt and sweat. There are two new, unmistakable smells: urine and feces. Goosebumps spread across my bare arms, standing the hair on the back of my neck up.

The air feels damp, and moisture clings to my brow.

The longer I stand there, the clearer the shapes around me become.

What I thought were bodiless forms are infected, or rather what's left of them.

Directly in front of me, two infected lean against one another, staring at me. One is missing a leg that was broken off at the kneecap. His patella dangles uselessly from a gray string of tendons. Dried blood creates burgundy rivers down his other leg, gluing the remains of his pants to his ashen skin.

His friend, a female, has no eyes. Two empty sockets gape back at me, filled with what looks like a mixture of chewed skin and dirt. The skin of her face pulls down, giving her a weighed appearance. Her mouth hangs open, showing a row of teeth that are worn down to the gumline.

I turn away from them, gasping for breath. The hot air doesn't quench my burning lungs, but instead sends my stomach into somersaults. When I look up again, the numbers of infected have only increased, all staring in my direction, like I've just crashed their party.

I scan for familiar faces, eyes falling on several.

One of my father's old friends has a gaping open wound across his chest, teeming with maggots. A female classmate of mine bears a broken arm, crystal white bone protruding from her forearm. Her wrist bends down at an unnatural angle; patches of her golden hair are missing.

None of them move towards me. Instead, they just stare, emitting moans of pain, growls of madness, or groans of hunger. I never knew there was a difference in those three sounds, but the tangle of sounds and smells around me require that I pick them apart.

The moans are loud and short, climaxing into a scream before the wave comes crashing back down. Opposite of this, the growls tumble out in long, low volumes, stretching endlessly around me like ribbons. Groans blend the two together, filling my chest with loud, long terror.

When my eyes adjust completely, I push away from the door, stumbling and crashing to the floor at the feet of the first two infected. My right hand catches me before I fall flat on my face, but my left arm slips in something wet, twisting my body like a see-saw. The smell down by the ground is worse, until I taste it on the back of my tongue.

I look up to see what I slipped in and am greeted by a sea of body parts. My left hand disappears into a pile of arms, legs, and other unrecognizable extremities. Flies gather on the blue skin, feasting on the raw tissue and bone.

I jerk my arm back, pushing myself up in enough time to turn away before I vomit. The bile adds yet another smell to the menu, but I can't tear my eyes away from the chunky liquid.

Blood peppers the fluid. The virus has reached my stomach.

That means I need to hurry.

I stand myself upright, pushing past the two infected that greeted me. Each step I take requires careful thought, repositioning and wiggling my feet until they find flat ground. None of the other infected try to bother me, instead deciding to go back to their own business. They've figured out I'm not food.

I belong here, they think.

Along the ceiling of the building, black pipes twist, joined by red painted sprinkler heads. I follow them as I walk, pushing bodies aside. My clothes become drenched in sweat; my hair glues itself to my forehead. When I wipe it away, my hand returns black. The darkness sticks to me. My heart pounds in my chest, making my good hand tremble.

I find the source of the pipes in the back of the room.

A giant, rusted drum sits in the corner, standing to my waist, and a single black pipe stems out the side. A black handle protrudes out of the top. An infected slouches beside the tub, moaning in bursts, clawing at his cheeks which are covered in yellow, seeping boils.

I knock on the side of the drum, and a dampened echo answers me. Reaching the handle proves to be the easy part. It's lifting it off that challenges me.

Bracing myself by pressing my knees into the side of the  drum, I grasp the handle and lift, ignoring the searing pain that spreads through my ribcage. My elbows pop, and for a minute, I think they might snap. Instead, I shift the pressure to my upper arms, scooting the lid off inch by inch. It falls to the ground with a sickening crunch as it splits the infected's head down the middle.

I look away, holding my breath at the sight.

This makes me feel better about Mom. If she had ended up like these, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself during the few short hours I kept my sanity.

The water in the drum rocks back and forth, sloshing against the side. I dig through my pockets for the test tube, wrapping shaking fingers around it. Lifting the vile up to my face, I watch the red liquid inside for a minute.

It's idiotic how important this substance is. It can't be more than a few teaspoons of liquid, but it has the potential to destroy every infected inside these four walls. It could save half the compound.

I hold the future between two fingers.

Holding the tube tightly, I pull the plastic lid off with my teeth, spitting it onto the bloody ground. Slowly, I empty the contents into the water below, watching the vaccine spread like silk ribbon through it.

Now, all that's left is to set off the sprinklers.

Fighting the nausea that builds up in my stomach, I pile up some of the limbs that are scattered across the filthy floor. When I pick them up, my fingers struggle to grip them. The surface of the skin is firm, and they weigh more than I would have expected. When I've gathered a knee-height pile, I dig the lighter out of my pocket.

Using a ripped off piece of my uniform as kindling, I kneel down, lighting the fabric and tossing it under the pile of limbs.

The fire burns slow at first, dancing along the outer layer of the skin. It melts the hair and outer layer easily, giving the air another smell to play with. Then, they start to shrink, revealing the fatty, yellow second layer. By then, the smoke rolls in billows away from the sizable fire.

A loud pop echoes around the room, and the sprinklers sputter to life, showering warm water down on the bodies around me.

Nothing happens.

I glance around the room, watching the water gather on the infected. What remains of their hair sticks to their skull; clothes mold into the curves of their bodies. Is it even working? I thought for sure that the vaccine could enter their bloodstream through the wounds. I run a hand through my hair, sighing.

Then, the hissing finds me. It's like water meeting a hot skillet, sizzling almost. All around me, smoke rises from the infected, blending with the deafening new sound. The infected go quiet, heads tilting up towards the sky.

Dripping from the water, I head for the door.

A hand wraps around my ankle, jerking me to the ground. My chin hits the concrete, clamping my mouth shut with blinding force. I taste blood on my tongue, and a warm liquid pours down the front of my shirt. Rolling over on my back requires immense effort, due to the infected that has latched onto me. As I scoot away from her, my eyes fall on her face.

Dark eyes meet mine, framed with kinked black curls. Freckles are scattered across her cratered face, dripping with pus and blood.

Naomi.

She opens her mouth and begins to scream, yellowed eyes rolling back in her head. She claws at her face, scrambling away from me on her knees. I fight the urge to go after her, heart wrenching out my my chest. She isn't the girl I had a crush on anymore. That girl is lost, forever.

Looking around reveals that the infected are all screaming. Mouths gape open; chins tilt towards the ceilings. I cover my ears, clenching my eyes shut against the noise. Infected fall to the floor all around me, crashing against me as they thrash around.

My breath catches in my throat as I open my eyes, trying to crawl through towards the door. I can't believe it actually worked.

When I reach for the door knob, I notice the wound on my shoulder.

Like all the other infected in the room, the raw skin is steaming. Droplets of water run over it as they follow the path of gravity. The skin tingles, like it was asleep and is waking up. I lean back on my legs, watching the vapor curl towards the ceiling.

I had forgotten how the vaccine would affect me.

A vicious warmth spreads up my shoulder, and the tingling turns into a million bee stings. It takes my breath away, engulfing my body. I'm covered in fire ants, taking a bath in acid, rolling over hot coals.

I find the edges of my shirt, lifting it up and over my head, swatting the searing parts of my body. Moving only accelerates the pain, though, and soon, I'm laying on my back on the blood soaked floor. My body jerks violently, muscles tensing in bursts of desperation.

Was I too late? Is this dying?

I call out Lexi's name, praying for the pain to stop, unsure if my voice even works.

I never got to say goodbye to her. Her lips will never call me an idiot again. Her eyes won't roll when we talk about school work. I'll never touch her silk hair, hold her cashmere hands, or stare into her chocolate eyes again. No one will help her get places on time or make sure she doesn't get in trouble.

I don't want to die.

Not alone. Not like this.

I take a deep breath, inhaling a mouth full of water from the ceiling. It sends my body into more convulsions, until everything stops. My eyes slip closed, and I fall into the blackness that edges out of the corners of the room.

A/N: I'm sorry. That's all I have to say.