It... it... it started several weeks ago. You see, I live in Washington D.C. Pretty close to the White House, actually. Rent can get expensive, but I love it here. It's the right place for me to be, I think. Or... it was.
It was a couple months ago. The news was huge, it hit stands everywhere and was all over the newspapers. The president and his family all died. I won't get into how quite yet. But they died a very peculiar and unusual death. The guys who killed them were drug dealers, not that they dealt anything you've heard of though. I mean, you probably haven't. They called the stuff Rock Soap. An all new drug made fresh for this generation.
Well anyway, the side effects are insane, like nothing I've ever heard. The guys themselves were the ones who created it. The first ones to test it, too. They just loaded the stuff into a pipe and smoked it up. I heard they hallucinated for days, they couldn't even begin to tell you the most basic things. No idea what their names were or where they were or anything.
I don't think they intended to come here, they were just so out of it from the drugs. Then in the newspaper, they talked about the drug itself. Turns out Rock Soap had some pretty severe effects. The worst of them being cannibalistic. Yeah, those guys who produced it, they ate the president. I know, I know, it sounds pretty crazy. But they did. Somehow they got past security, I think the guards could just tell they were insane and kinda let them get through. Or maybe there were more guys than we knew. Anyhow, they did get past. They kidnapped the family and got them loaded inside this big white van. And then they took them away, and the only reason they know that they were eaten is the guys admitted to it. Both of them committed suicide in the days to follow, they couldn't live knowing they'd eaten one of their own.
You're probably like, 'dude they were probably just so high they think they ate them, doubtful.' But no, I mean I thought the same thing at first, but in days to follow I'd be proven wrong. Because next thing I know, Rock Soap is everywhere. Everybody's heard about it. It was the only thing anyone ever talked about anymore. It was inside the lakes, oceans, rivers, and swamps. No lake that they sampled was pure. All of it, contaminated. But they began bottling it up and selling it as drinking water anyways. After I heard that, you can bet I rushed to the store to stock up on the water that was untouched. The water that was still pure. I drove... to eight... eight different stores. Not a single one had water in stock. They said that customers had already bought up the last of it. That I was too late.
I had only six bottles of water left inside my house. I figured I could drink one each week and by the time I ran out things might be okay again. I'd just take sips here and there throughout my day. On Tuesday of the second week, millions of cases of cannibalism had been reported. Then on Thursday, I saw it with my own eyes. I'd been looking out the window, preparing to board it up so none of those... things... could get into my house. He just tore the guy apart and bit into his flesh. He looked so satisfied with the taste. It was horrible.
The next day was when they tried to get in. Now, I'm a really heavy sleeper, so I was one of the few people who was actually able to sleep through the traumatic situation. Actually, people had reportedly been dying from sleep deprivation, too. Anyway, when I woke up, I saw that some of the boards I had put up had been broken into pieces. You could see out the corner of the window.
I peeked through it and I came face to face with one of them. Just a thin piece of glass separated me from him. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair oily. His skin looked bad, he was pale. Kind of a light gray tone, if you ask me. The next few days were okay enough, considering there was probably an apocalypse occurring.
Then on Monday in the paper, it announced that thousands of businesses were shutting down. And that on Wednesday electricity would be cut off. Then on Thursday, the plumbing would be cut. That was when I really began to consider that this might be the end. I bathed every day, I sat in the tub for hours. So that I could remember that relaxing feeling when I would not feel it anymore.
Friday. That was when things managed to get even messier. The streets were ugly, a horrifying sight. I wouldn't have ever wished for my worst enemy to see that. Homes were on fire, and tons were already burnt down to the ground. Car windows had been smashed and the cars set on fire. The only thing that really looked alive was the grass. It remained green. The streets themselves were filled with waste. Since the plumbing no longer worked, people began to... um... relieve themselves in the streets. And then there was the garbage. Litter filled the roads. So did bodies. Dead bodies.
It was like that for a week, not much to report about week number four. Other than that on Wednesday, I discovered a crate of water bottles on my front porch. I thought it was a trap, but brought it into my kitchen after searching it. It was probably poisoned, though.
On Thursday of week five, there was only a bottle of water left...and I was parched. I chugged it down in three large gulps. Nothing seemed to be getting better so what was the point of making it last another week?
I lasted a couple days without water after chugging the bottle. I was dehydrated, sure, but I was surviving. Until day three. Then, I couldn't take it. I would just sit on the floor staring at the crate of water that had been sitting on my porch. What if it was safe? But then again, what if it wasn't? I'd never tested it. I never would in a normal situation. But I'm so thirsty.