It was late night, About 11:55. I was watching a re-run of the Local News when a breaking report came about. A meteor was seen over the skies on Panama City Beach. It was only about the size of a gumball, but was emitting enough smoke that it was noticed. People gathered around the crater, she said, and looked at the crater it made on the beach. The crater was about 20 feet long and about 30 feet deep. The actual meteorite was lodged somewhere in the sand, As the Scientists from the Naval Base gathered around and started to search for the meteorite. As most people left, I and 2 others stayed with the scientists until the meteorite was found. Satisfied with a nice story, I was able to crawl into my bed and fall asleep, unconcerned…
I woke up the next morning with a shock. I had cuts and scars all over my body. My windows were broken and my apartment was trashed. My T.V. looked like it was struck by a baseball-bat, And by this point I was willing to believe that. The only things remaining were glass shards, ripped up paper, my tipped-over fridge, (about 2/3s of the food that was in it, stolen) And my Emergency F.M. /A.M. Radio. I looked out my broken window to find that the city looked like my room.
Trashed. Broken. I turned on the radio and tried to find Titan 13 news channel. The only thing that I found was what sounded like a tired scared man who said; “The meteor. It was the meteor. It released air-spread toxins... It doesn’t kill people. It… It drives them insane… They went on a rampage. The- *Howls of pain and Crashing* -static-
There were no more channels.
Only more static…
I got on my trench coat and pants, and grabbed my pocketknife. I knew my situation was already bad… but the whole meaning of “bad” seemed irrelevant when I saw what was downstairs… My nice next-door neighbor, Mr. Smith, Was curled up in a ball at the bottom of the stairs. His skin was white and was flaky… It fell off his body. His pupils were gone- only blackness remained. His feet were scarred and cut up, and he mumbled incomprehensible words. His 2 five-year-old twin boys just kept trying to help him and hug him, but he only mumbled louder and jerked around. After a while they just sat next to each other, holding on to their father’s leg, crying. They kept saying to me “Please please *sniffle* please fix daddy…” And just more sobbing… It broke my heart to leave them.
I opened up the door- It was like the yellow fever all over again. About 4 people from the navy base were in hazmat suits, trying to rid the disease. The “Changed” people jumped on their bodies and ripped off the hazmat suits and bit them- a new way of transporting the disease. They turned into the “Changed” People also. The people that survived the disease’s rampage overnight was either being bitten, killed, on getting in their car and flooring it. I was trying to find my car, when I blacked out.
I woke up in the corner of a parking garage with a non-changed person. He said that changed person had hit me in the head, and he took me here. Everyone was either dead, changed, or had left. They were closing in on us. There was no escape. One changed person charged at me- It was one of Mr. Smith’s twins. He had an un-human like smile. He slashed my face open with an old, rusty dagger. Two other started to gut and bite my legs; and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. One sliced out my tongue. I started to puke, and then blood started pooling in my mouth. I looked up and started to cry. The last thing I saw before I black out was what looked like the S.W.A.T Team, and I heard the faint sounds of an ambulance and gunshots.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital. My left arm was gone, and I had mechanical legs on. There were about 30 other people in the room with me, all having some kind of amputation. A nurse came in and greeted me, and said “That the S.W.AT Team saved you and the ambulance brung you here”. I was going to stay here for another week, and It was going to take 2 years for me to fully recover. Panama City Beach is illegal to go into now. The U.S. Military has closed up the area and they are working on cleaning out the disease. I was actually in Ft. Walton.
I was released 1 week after. I’m still recovering; I have about 6 more months. But I still have nightmares about it- About Mr. Smith’s children, about the people in the hazmat suits, the blood pooling in my mouth-
I constantly think about something like it happening again.