Quiet Streets

Survival of the Lucky

Chapter 1 by brevdravis brevdravis

For some reason, you kept thinking about "The Stand."

It happened so fast, after all. The news stations playing the same old, same old, totally ignoring the true disease spreading across the face of the world. Then people started dying.

Everyone, died. It was fast, incredibly fast. First they were fine, then a day of the sniffles, then a incredible burning fever that literally cooked them from the inside out after only three hours. A wiseass on channel 5 started calling it the "Black Tuesday virus". The name stuck, and so did the disease.

It ravaged cities, towns, any place there were people. They just died, with no cure, no chance to look for one. Society broke down. Looting, pilliaging, murder, death. All of them were characteristics of the final few days, when those that realized they had the disease just gave up and gave in to their base animal instincts.

You were lucky. You didn't get the sniffles. You have no idea why, or how, but as everyone died around you, you walked alone, immune. You hid of course, how could you do anything else with the chaos around you. You took shelter in the cellar of a local mall, with a handgun liberated from the sporting goods store and a shopping cart full of food from the supermarket outside.

You've had to kill once already. A maniac decided that you would be a nice toy to torture for a few hours before he died himself. You shot him as he finished up with the victim before you. Then you ran. It's not pleasant to think about, and you still have trouble sleeping at night.

It's been several days since you barricaded yourself in here. It's pretty quiet out there, and you were finally ready to take a look outside.

Who are you? Were you alone or with a Group

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