EVERYONE WILL SUFFER Two percent of a year. One week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. So much can happen in that time. You can change the world. The world can change you. You can die. The world can die. The undead thing that used to be Russell Bailey was walking around; a now, nameless member of a worldwide crowd with a growing population of a little under 6,000,000,000 with no sign of stopping until humanity reaches its zero point of existence. Mankind had ceased to continue through procreation and now only gave birth to aborted death. Of those that were still alive, only about half a billion existed; the rest had either ended their misery by their own hand, were murdered and were never revived, or had so much tissue removed from their corpses that reanimation was impossible. Very few were lucky enough to die from natural causes. He was bitten on the fifth day of his curse. Russell held out in his penthouse apartment for as long as he could. The closed gates out front and the key needed to get to his floor prevented any of those things from coming inside, but there were too many of them outside to try and risk fleeing. He didnt try to panic in his apartment but the curse kept taunting him; showing him signs. It was when he started vomiting water and insects that he couldnt take it anymore. Some would consider it suicide but he lost it, ran out of his apartment and got in the elevator. Russell got to the first floor and slowly edged his way to the front door. Thats when he got bit by the building super, who was roaming the first floor. After fighting him off he crawled back into the elevator, holding tightly to his throat and pushed for the top floor. He fumbled with the key, the blood made his fingers slippery, and switched the lock to the penthouse. The blood loss was massive and he died on the way out of the elevator. He fell on the threshold. After a few minutes, he arose and started roaming the hallway himself. The elevator, now fully functioning, brought up from time to time more undead. Still, little be little more signs, supernatural threats, presented themselves to him; but he was no longer afraid. He ignored them in search of flesh. All this meant nothing at 7:19:57 p.m. local time. It had been seven days since the curse that was personally placed on Russell began; two days before the world became damned. It was now exactly 604,800 seconds since the phone call that started him on his descent into hell. Russell was outside his apartment in the hallway, shuffling aimlessly, waiting for prey along with four others when the television in his apartment came on. The static broke through the silence. He lumbered back into his apartment, ignoring the pool of water that was spreading through the floor. He looked around, his primordial brain trying to locate the source of the noise, ignoring the screen that showed a well, and the figure that climbed out of it. The girl, with her jerky movements, edged to the front of the screen and then slipped out of the television. Russell noticed the person in the room with him, and in a frenzy, attacked the evil that was embodied in a girl named Samara Morgan. Before she could open her eyes to scare them to death he attacked. Russell fell to the floor when he slipped through the fleshless ghost figure. He turned and repeated his attack, with the same result. Samara looked at him, puzzled. Something wasnt working. Her evil was powerless. There was no one to enact her vengeance on. Worse than that, there never would be; the world was gone. She needed to bring someone back with her but now, there was no one to understand her pain, only her hunger to feed. She materialized for a moment to try and bring Russell back with her. Thats when he tore into her. The noise attracted the others in the hallway and soon they were converging upon her. For the first time in a long time, the girl, as her flesh tore apart, screamed in pain, and fear.
Posted on: Fri, 25 Oct 2013 01:57:22 +0000
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