Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Prophecy
Raw
GM
Avatar of Prophecy

Prophecy

Member Seen 5 yrs ago



Jackson

A thin beam of dull orange light penetrated the darkness of the apartment as Jackson parted two shutters in the blind, his narrowed eyes watching the streets below intently. Red and blue lights, accompanied by the perpetual noise of sirens, disrupted the often tranquil area while harsh rain beat down upon service personnel. Tree branches swayed in a breeze that Jackson felt faintly upon his skin, and their leaves were caught in a frenzy of nature, littering the roads and turning them into shimmering paths of green. A smell lingered in the air, but what it was could not be defined in a single word. It was the smell of wet pavement and freshly cut grass, intertwined with the overwhelming stench of gasoline and burning wood. It was a sinister combination that made Jackson's stomach turn, yet he could not pull himself from the window. He was so close that the glass fogged over due to the heat of his breath, but nevertheless he wiped it clean and continued to watch.

Below the window that he stood at an ambulance was stationed, it's parking slightly askew, causing one wheel to ride the curb while its back end ventured into the opposite lane. Its lights cycled from red to blue and the back doors were open, but - to Jackson’s relief - no siren could be heard. On the roof leaves had already began to settle and deep puddles at the edges of the road now claimed the rubber of its wheels. If he hadn't known better Jackson may have thought that it had been there for weeks, even months. It looked abandoned in the street, left to be retaken by nature; however soon enough four people emerged from the flats next door. Between them they carried a stretcher, but the face of whoever lay on top of it was obscured by the paramedics and rain from the building storm. After hastily securing the stretched in the back, two of the four paramedics hurried to the front of the vehicle, their clothes soaked through as they hopped inside. Then, as the siren shattered what little silence there had been, it sped up the street and took a sharp right out of sight.

Jackson sighed, pulling away from the window slightly. For a moment he simply watched rain droplets roll down the glass, but soon even that began to irritate him so he stepped back and allowed the blinds to clatter back into place. His hands bawled up into fists and he hammered the wall out of frustration. In the distance another siren blared in to life, but he wasn’t interested in seeing where it came from. He scratched his head irritably and paced back and forth, his toes sinking into the fresh carpet under-foot. To his left Erica sat on the sofa watching television. The news played out, illuminating the otherwise unlit room. A man was talking on-screen, ashen faced and above all else tired looking. He described the overwhelming number of patients being reported at local hospitals, but never went into detail. Whether that was by choice or not remained unclear. Jackson watched for a moment longer, hoping to hear something more than the vague updates being spoon-fed to the Anchor. Yet more numbers were listed, but nothing that helped Jackson understand what was going on.

While he listened something caught his attention on the kitchen counter. His phone. A small red light in the top left of the screen flickered insistently; a signal that he had missed a call. He furrowed his brow, wandering who would call him at such an hour. Possibly a family member who had forgotten the time difference, it wouldn't be the first time. Hoping to distract himself Jackson made his way into the kitchen, his hand intentionally brushing the top of Erica's arm as he did so. The cold tile floor sent a shiver down his spine as he approached the counter and gripped the phone in one hand; the screen lighting up and revealing the missed call. It was from Matthew, a friend who lived only a few blocks away. He went to press on the icon that would allow him to listen to any messages left when a flurry of chilling air raced up the sleeves of his shirt, seizing his body with shock for a moment.

"Bloody window," he muttered, reaching for the window over the sink and pulling it too with force. This window faced a different way to the one in the living area, instead overlooking houses towards the outskirts of town. If anything the storm had become more vicious in the few seconds it had taken Jackson to reach the kitchen. Clotheslines could be seen in distant gardens, the wire pulled taught by the wind and the clothes on them drenched as they flailed about on the brink of coming loose. Even deckchairs and shed roofs were claimed by the gale, tumbling across gardens and splintering the wood of fences. "It's crazy out there," Jackson called to Erica, re-emerging from the kitchen a minute later with a packet of crisps in hand. “Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if that's what all these ambulances are about."

He took a seat next to her, pulling open his packet of crisp and allowing the smell of salt and vinegar to consume the area. Then he placed his feet over on the coffee table and reclined into the soft fabric of the sofa. The same dreary looking man was still reporting on the number of casualties, the screen occasionally changing to a young woman who stood outside of the A&E department doors at a nearby hospital. The storm was obviously causing technical difficulties though, as the sound or display would often cease to work. It wasn't until a few minutes later that the screen cut to black for a moment, plunging the room into complete darkness. Jackson instinctively reached for Erica's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He assumed that there had been a power cut, but almost as soon as the thought had occurred to him a blue screen lit the room one more. Across the top of the screen it read 'EMERGENCY BROADCAST' in bold red letters, and below was more writing; smaller and gradually shifting across the screen to make way for the long string of words.

"What on earth is this all about?" Jackson said, sitting up and leaning in so that he could read what was on the screen. He had trouble though, the words disappearing off the edge before he could make sense of them. Turning to Erica he spoke, perhaps a little too impatiently. "What does it say? What does the writing across the screen say, Erica?"
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Pathas
Raw

Pathas

Member Seen 9 yrs ago

It was a cold night. Rain pattered against the windows as the day slowly evolved into the tint of dusk. All was relatively normal in the small city in Texas — save for the sirens of emergency personnel. Erica had come home earlier than usual tonight. Typically, she’d be heads deep in newly found data concerning the research she was doing. Having come back from the United Kingdom with Jackson, she received a grant to continue her work at the University of Texas — Austin. It was one of the factors that moved the two out here in the first place. Initially, it was difficult due to culture differences and the manner of speech. However, like all things, people adapt. No matter the circumstance, they adapted to fit in.

Leaning against the arm rest of the living room couch, Erica sat with feet tucked underneath her as she watched the television screen. She was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair tied in a neat ponytail. She could imagine the looks on her colleagues faces if they saw her outside of her professional ware. Pure scandalous. The thought was almost too comical to bear.

For the past few months, what had started out as isolated incidents slowly built up to multi-state occurrences. Scientist appeared on the morning and evening news assuring the public that it wasn’t something to be concerned about. Speculation of excessive drug use, mental instability, and many more wild theories flooded the air. There were even talks of governmental conspiracy. Something along the lines of fixing instability to strengthen governmental regulations. How stupid Erica thought. She had witnessed several cases in the past that depicted these traits; however, none of them were like this. This was an entirely different beasts. And definitely not a conspiracy.

The news anchor zoomed into focus as the commercial break ended. His normally spunky energy gone. Fatigued eyes stared out as he straightened his papers. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome back to Channel 7 news,” he said. “More updates coming in concerning the recent string of events of horrific outbreaks of violence across the United States. What the CDC is now labeling as an aggravated gene evolution of the flu has spread through the majority of the Eastern Seaboard as well as the northern part of Texas.

“Authorities have asked all civilians to report any individuals exhibiting the symptoms that include: slurred speech, memory loss, dementia, and any form of sporadic violence. If you encounter said individual, stay indoors and call emergency personnel immediately. Those affected with these symptoms are to be considered dangerous…”

A passing siren drew Erica’s attention away form the television as the apartment window basked in the colors of blue and red. She heard footsteps behind her as she felt Jackson’s passing hand on her shoulder. A slow spread of relief calmed her nerves. She hoped all of this would blow over soon. Their neighborhood returning to its tranquility.

Moments later, she heard Jackson call out from the kitchen.

"It's crazy out there," Jackson called to Erica, re-emerging from the kitchen a minute later with a packet of crisps in hand. “Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if that's what all these ambulances are about."

“I don’t think its the weather that’s got everyone in a fuss, Jackson,” she said. “Remember that crazy flu thing that’s been on the news? They say it’s in the northern part of Texas. I don’t like this one bit. Got a call from mom earlier. She said it’s there too.”

She felt the area next to her depress as Jackson sat down next to her, opening a bag of chips. Vinegar and salt. Definitely not what she would’ve picked, but to each their own. She shifted as she learned against Jackson’s strong shoulders and snuggled in until she was comfortable. “More are going to he hospital everyday,” she said more so to herself. “The CDC said something about this being the flu. Can you believe that? If anything, the symptoms hint more so to hints of psychopathical tendencies mixed in with hints of schizophrenia. Neurotransmitter imbalance? The aggression and lack of the necessity of sleep. Serotonin? Maybe… Sorry. Geek talk.”

A loud rumble shook the room as the power went out. Erica looked around as she felt Jackson squeeze her hand reassuringly. “The storm’s really picking up,” she said. “I’ll go fish out the flashlights. Just in case. Wouldn’t want to stump a toe, if the lights go out, no?”

Before she could get up, the TV screen flickered off then back on. A high pitched alarm came from the speakers. Emergency Broadcast flashed across the screen. Erica stopped cold. Everything else seemed non-important as her attention went straight to those blocky, legible letters.

She squinted her eyes to read the screen. “Um … something about Texas National Guard being deployed. My god…” She sat up straighter as she re-read the reoccurring message. “They’re implementing quarantine around a number of counties. Hold on. Holy crap! Jackson, our county’s on the list. Wha—“

Erica jumped as a loud bang slammed against the apartment door. She stared at the door and then at Jackson. The banging continued as she got to her feet. She mouthed to Jackson: What should we do?

The pounding continued as the hinges of the door began to creak. Every single small hair on Erica’s neck stood on end. A guttural, wrenching scream came moments later. It was a terrible sound, something that was almost too unique to compare to. It sounded like a wounded animal, desperate to tear into its awaiting meal. A cold trickle creeped down her spine. She knew that feeling. Fear churned inside her.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Prophecy
Raw
GM
Avatar of Prophecy

Prophecy

Member Seen 5 yrs ago

Jackson

Jackson didn't care to admit it, but having Erica rest against his chest relieved some angst and worry that resided in the pit of his stomach. He had never been one to share his feelings openly, but he was sure that Erica was aware of how tense he was. His muscles relaxed somewhat as she nestled into him and he reached his arm around to get a handful of crisps. Her voice soothed him. She spoke of the alarming number of people that were turning up at the hospital, and then of her own theories of what was causing so many to fall ill. Jackson listened, and although he may not have quite understood her 'geek talk', he was happy that someone had an idea of what was going on.

Jackson's was thinking of his mother and father - and if they were safe - when the power cut out. Even then he didn't stop thinking about them, but it wasn't long before the emergency broadcast had claimed his interest.

Jesus, National Guard?

That meant the situation had turned sour. As if it hadn't already. Erica pulled away from Jackson to sit up straighter and he quickly followed suit. After taking a handful of crisps and cramming them in his mouth he put the packet down and tried to focus on the words moving across the screen. Erica mentioned the implementation of quarantine, but Jackson was still comprehending the fact that the National Guard had been deployed. The National Guard was only deployed during the outbreak of war, or in the case of a national emergency. He wasn't sure what was worse, but he was more than certain which one was the cause.

His trail of thought was cut short as something slammed into the apartment door. Without thinking Jackson instinctively took hold of Erica as if to shield her, only to realise that she didn't need to be shielded. He allowed her to stand up and saw her mouth to him for advice. In all honestly he wasn't sure what the best course of action was, but if his time in the army had prepared him for anything, it was for situations like this where he needed to think on his toes.

"Get back." Jackson whispered, standing up and moving around the sofa. A sickening wail seemed to vibrate through the walls of the apartment, and the door shook on its hinges. Someone on the other side was trying to get in, but who? There was a peephole in the door, and without skipping a beat Jackson was already moving towards it. The door shook again as he drew closer, and after another shrill cry there was silence. After casting a glance in Erica's direction he ducked slightly to the height of the peephole and slowly moved his eye towards the brass rim.

Nothing was in focus at first. All that could be seen was the hazy blue from the carpets outside, and the plain white of the walls. Jackson squinted, trying to make sense of the colours. There didn't appear to be anything out there. Maybe whoever it was had gone. Nevertheless he stayed a while longer, just so that he could clearly see the hallway. Eventually the walls and the floor became more defined and Jackson had an adequate view.

Nothing, he thought.

Then, before he had a chance to react a dark shape appeared in his line of sight. To begin with it wasn't obvious whether it was moving or not, but it soon became apparent. It grew in size until Jackson could make it out to be the figure of a man. In less than a second the man had covered the distance between the end of the hallway and the door. Then, without even a flicker of hesitation, he threw himself hard against the door, causing Jackosn to stumble backwards until he regained his footing. The guttural crying resumed, only this time it was far more violent; desperate even. Again the door shook, and splintered wood littered the carpet.
"He's trying to break through the door, goddammit!" He shouted, his voice effortlessly audible above the racket. Nevertheless he felt the need to shout. After a moment it occurred to him that Erica had no clue what was on the other side of the door. "There's a man out there, he's... I think he's trying to get inside the apartment."

Jackson took a few steps back and allowed his eyes to skirt over the contents of the room. Without looking towards Erica he simply said, "Get my gun."

Jackson's gun was a SIG Sauer P226 .40 S&W, the service pistol he received shortly after joining the army. It was one of the few memoirs from his time in Afghanistan that he had decided to hold onto. Not only had it saved his life on more than one occasion, but it had also been the only fire-arm that he was legally allowed to bring into Texas without jumping through a great number of hoops. The gun itself was matte black, and held a total of fifteen rounds. It was the ideal weapon for the purpose of self-defence. "It's under my pillow," Jackson said, suddenly remembering that Erica didn't know where the pistol was. "There's a box of ammunition in the bottom drawer next to the bed, grab that as well."

While Erica disappeared into the bedroom Jackson grabbed the wooden chest of drawers in the corner of the room and slid it in front of the door, hastily removing pictures and ornaments from its surface before he did so. The door shook again, and the chest of drawers almost fell over, despite being made of heavy oak. There was another frustrated wail; another thump on the door. The doorframe cracked under the pressure, but didn't give way.

"Erica," Jackson called, edging the sofa towards the door in an attempt to steady the make-shift barricade. "We need to get to the car, we can't stay here."
↑ Top
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet