Well, they haven't been the norm for Levi, or Lem, as his old friends had called him, and honestly, he hated it. He was used to having people he knew to talk to, used to a cold bev ready at hand and drinkable in a few moments. Now? Now he was tossed into a world he didn't know, full of guns he didn't know how to shoot save for a shotgun his father left him, and a small knife he had taken from an empty pawn shop, spewing apologies to thin air as he left.
And Jesus, now it was raining.
Lem ducked into the nearest open building and grimaced, eyeing the bodies that littered the linoleum and were bent over the retro counter of the retaurant. He reached for a scarf that he had knacked from a thrift shop a day ago and wrapped it around his his head, tying the ends together at his ear. Gods I hope this doesn't infect me.
-
Thoughts turned to the first time he encountered any sign of the infection was actually on the internet. He had been watching a livestream of the latest E3 convention since he didn't have enough money to travel to America, and not nearly enough talent to get a sponsor for a work visa. Some maniacs had coughed up a lung practically on the broadcast, and Lem remembered himself cringing at the sound of something coming up the man's throat. It turned out to be blood, and soon he was rushed off the stage. The broadcast was cut as his mother dragged Lem's butt to the parlor, where the only television was. "Look at this." Was all she said.
The television showed Lem a pretty news reporter, one he didn't recognize, talking about some sort of virus? He remembered feeling a frown tugging at his lips, not out of anger or sadness, but downright confusion. "The hospital has made reports of red welts showing on patients' skin, and seizure like spasms taking place, with severity growing the longer the patient is infected. If you happen to be coughing or showing any of the known symptoms, please visit the Emergency room as soon as possible." He turned to his mother, unsure of what to say, he had no idea what was happening, until he noticed small, red welts on her forearm and neck. That was his last memory of her, really. His father had left the country to serve in British Army, and Lem had never seen him since the day he had left the shotgun that was held in a tight grip in his left hand, slightly waking him and causing Lem to watch a receding shadowy figure leave his door open just enough to let a sliver of the hallway's light into his room.
His mother never came back to the house, and Lem kept to the indoors, his fear growing day by day, watching the broadcasts of the pretty woman repeating one announcement, and the occasional American, burly outdoorsman shouting tips to the camera, like, "The virus don't go through cloth, so keep that 'round your mouth, and don't let anythin' cough on you. That would kill you." Lem doubted that was true, but hey, he couldn't take the risk of ignoring some advice.
-
Lem sat at a booth that was next to a broken, but hooded window, Broken from the inside, he noted, as just a few shards littered the table and booth. He spared a worried glance at the bodies, thinking of all of the old zombie video games he had played as a child. "Hush up, they aren't zombies. Just dead men." He muttered to himself, sparing a small smirk as he realized he had just told himself to stop out loud. Well hey, at least they aren't any sort of living dead. He mimicked his favorite characters from postapo games and nudged a man to his side, flinching as he jumped back, anticipating a small moan from the freezing corpse. A sigh of relief escaped him mouth as he spared a look outside. The rain was still going strong, and he even heard thunder in the distance.
Well, now's a good time as any. He thought to himself as he glared at the dead bodies and turned his attention to a building across the street. It was a convenience store, and the only thing he could make out through the rain was a pad lock connected to what seemed to be a thick chain. A grimace formed on his lips as he walked over to the retro counter looking for something that seemed to be strong enough to cut thick metal. "Bingo." he muttered as he spotted a pair of bolt cutters, familiarized by the extended use he had with his father, helping out with measuring and cutting chains for something that Lem wasn't too bothered to think about now.
A nearby clap of thunder caused the ground to slightly tremble, and Lem looked up to see a few small china plates fall to the grand a few feet away from him. Jumping back in a sudden fright, he landed on the counter behind him, his heart hammering, as if to get out of his chest and abandon ship. JESUS. Lem almost let out a squeal of unexplained fear, but held the scarf against his mouth, muffling the squeak that came through. Thunder continued to sound nearby, and Lem shook his head free of negative thoughts, and only focused on one,
Run. Cut. Enter. Hide.