He sat in the dark building in the middle of the destroyed city. Dust danced in a weak shaft of sunlight that shone through the window. The light was tempting, he hadn't been out in the sun in a long time, and he longed to feel its warmth on his back. But he knew he couldn't go out, because the daytime was when the crazies came out.
He didn't go by a name anymore, he didn't need one. The only people he saw were the crazies, people affected by the disease. He had first heard about the disease on the news, back then, it had only caused hallucinations and aggression. The disease mutated quickly, however, and soon, it could be caught and transmitted by most mammals. It caused the poor beings to lose all of their hair, and for their eyes to lose pigment, rendering them pink eyed, bald monsters.
He encountered the crazies much more often than he would like to, which would be never. It didn't matter what you did, if a crazy spotted, or noticed any sign of your existence, they would pursue you until you, or they, were dead. With this in mind, he would kill them as quickly as possible. He always felt bad, but he knew that it was him or them, and he preferred himself to some mindless killing machine.
It was soon night. He was running low on water. He picked out a backpack, three large water water bottles, crackers, and a knife from the pile of supplies that he had collected throughout the time that he had been in the building, and put them in his backpack. He grabbed his rifle, and without further ceremony, he left.
As he walked down the dilapidated road towards the nearest creek, he saw a flash of motion, a crazy. He pulled his gun out, cautiously walking to the alley where he saw it. He walked further in. He heard a sound behind him and spun around. Before he could react the monsters jumped on him, immobilizing him. This is death, he thought, looking into the monsters blue eyes. He blacked out.
He woke up in a dimly lit room with padded walls. It smelled like disinfectant. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a white sweatshirt and sweatpants. He scanned the room suspiciously, his eye catching on the surveillance camera in one of the corners of the room. His gaze moved to the soft carpet floor. There, sitting on the floor, was a piece of paper. It read:
You were one of the many infected in the XCY-289 epidemic. This disease affects each person uniquely, causing some to go entirely insane, while others experience aggression-inducing hallucinations. You are one of the lucky ones.
He didn't feel lucky.
You were given the cure for XCY-289 on July 9th, 2025. You were kept in a medically induced sleep to help your body fight off the disease. It is now August 5th. You will be kept in this room for three days to ensure that you have made a full recovery. After that period of time, you will begin therapy. It is recommended you start trying to remember simple things that you may have forgotten, such as your name.
Thank you for your cooperation.