Snippet #1345216

Ethan Wong glanced from the clock on the wall to the bulging garbage bag in the corner, then back to the clock. It was about fifteen minutes past the curfew at seven o'clock - surely that wasn't too far past. He glanced towards the stairs that led to the housing area above the restaurant. His mother, if she came downstairs, would no doubt tell him it was too dangerous to go outside, and at the same time lecture him about not taking out the garbage sooner.

Noticing he'd wasted some time debating on what to do, he made up his mind and picked up the bag, hefting it over his shoulder and grimacing as the smell of rubbish wafted towards him. After all, he thought, I haven't seen any infected in this part of London yet. In my opinion the curfew is far too early. Moreover, he was certain his mother would ground him, lecture him and ban him from the internet if she discovered that he'd left the rubbish until the next morning. Despite him being almost twenty-two, the woman was still a strict influence in his life.

"My mother, the dragon lady," he muttered to himself as he opened the back door and headed out towards the rubbish skip at the end of the side street. He swore as he almost tripped over a crack in the paving, and stumbled a few paces before blundering over to the skip. He continued muttering to himself as he yanked the lid open and roughly emptied the garbage, dusting his hands off upon completion.

He took a moment to stretch, wincing as his back made an ominous creaking sound. A slight groan caught his attention, and he glanced around the street. Something stirred in a shadowy corner behind the skip, and he wandered closer, noticing a huddled form in the darkness. Probably a drunkard or something... He prodded the body with his foot.

There was an instant reaction. The person leaped up, hissing and spitting, and lunged towards him. He staggered backwards, raising his hands, his eyes widening as he noticed that this was no drunk - their eyes were wild and crazed, blood seeping from their ears and nose. He uttered a particularly choice word as he backed quickly towards the restaurant door. The infected seemed weak, emaciated almost, and he was able to pull himself inside and slam the door behind him, locking and bolting it. There were a few half hearted thumps from outside, which quickly faded away.

Ethan brushed himself down and let out a huff of breath. "Duuude..." he breathed. In hindsight, that was a rather stupid thing for me to do... lucky for me I was able to get away. He shook his head, clearing it. "Ah well! I'm still alive, aren't I?" He grinned to himself, but the smile faded as his mother's heavily accented voice drifted down from upstairs.

"Ethaaan! What's all that noise?"

"Uhh..." he had a sudden vision of his mother opening the door in the morning to be confronted with a rabid, infected person. With a sigh, he slipped his shoes off and began to trudge upstairs, trying to think of a way to explain the situation. Time to face the dragon...