MicroHorror

It’s been three weeks since the infection began spreading throughout the city. It wasn’t like the movies, where the infection takes over in hours. This takes days, long, agonizing days. You can see the signs start to show very slowly. It sometimes starts with the eyes, sometimes in the veins near a wound. It doesn’t just spread through saliva. It can be breathed, rubbed, left on items like staph or just mysteriously contracted through no contact at all. That’s why it spread so fast; there was no way to tell how to protect from it or who might be carrying.

My wife contracted it earlier this week and she’s already starting to act strangely. I can see the first discolored spots in her left eye and the veins in her hands are starting to darken and swell. It looks like it must have entered through her cuticles by a hangnail. We’ve been stuck in an office building since we were turned away from the Quarantine border. They still think they can stop it but infected must have gotten out before they shut everything down. It doesn’t matter much now. We’ve been living off of snack food for more than a week and while there were ten of us originally holding up here after the riots, there are only five of us now.

The first to turn was a woman who was showing signs within the first day. Her eyes went pale and then took on a kaleidoscopic pattern. She started becoming easily agitated and angry with no provocation. We all agreed to use other floors for self quarantine. Once the veins start to swell, it’s pretty much a forgone conclusion. And as my wife has been clinging to my side since this started I can only assume I’ll be next. She’s been getting angry with me and knows what’s coming. I haven’t seen any signs in my own eyes yet or I would volunteer to go with her. Every time I pass the stairwell I can hear the others shrieking and clawing behind the security-locked fire doors. No one has said anything yet but we both know it’s coming. They are keeping their distance from us and eyeing me suspiciously.

The sun is setting now and I see helicopters in the distance evacuating what’s left of the border guards. Looks like they’ve given up. There is a television babbling about protocols and contingencies in the break room where we’ve set up a makeshift kitchen. And I hear the outraged voices of the others yelling “They can’t do that! What are we going to do!?” I am not much interested as my wife lies in my arms, asleep for now. I can almost watch the color of her skin changing. When she wakes she’ll be even less of the person I love. The word “nuclear” comes to my ears and I suddenly feel a little better. I think I will carry her up to the roof and watch the show.