Prohdaz: The Airborne Apocolypse
Cole Spencer
“So, how are we gonna survive this apocalypse?” I asked Shwartz. It had only been 6 months since the outbreak, and almost all of Tokyo had already been wiped out.
“You’ve asked me this a million times, Akihiro. I already told you: I need to work on the cure!” I sighed. The same answer as always. The ventilator hummed softly in the corner of our sealed apartment. “Are you ever worried about our oxygen?” I asked.
“We’ve had this ventilator for a while, and it’s a reliable filter from outside air,” he replied.
“I know, but as soon as you’re exposed to Prohdaz, you become infected in less than a minute.”
“The Prohdaz virus is an airborne virus, yes. But as long as we have a supply of clean oxygen, we’re safe.”
“But what about the infected, Schwartz? Not only can their breath directly kill you, but getting killed by their brute force is really common!”
“Akihiro, calm down. All the infected want is your oxygen. As long as you aren’t exhaling too much CO2 around them, they won’t notice!”
I leaned back in my old swivel chair and turned to look out of our double-paned window. The rusty skeleton of Tokyo Tower loomed above the clusters of abandoned buildings. Schwartz said if we had selected a room above the 3rd floor, the building would have collapsed by now. The empty stairwell still barely holds up. “Akihiro, we need more people here,” Schwarts told me. “If I want to make the cure, or if you want to come anywhere NEAR your infected force, you need to go looking for a person who can help us out. If there are any left here.”
Schwartz always teased me about my “Infected Force.” I have a long-term goal to set up some sort of group of people, including me, that will be able to fend off the infected that are threatening us. If we were able to get a group of people to stick together and help each other out in the apocalypse, our chances of survival will be much better. But Schwartz was right. I needed to find someone first.
“Fine, I’ll go out. I’ll check around the stores,” I groaned. Going out was not an easy task. I pulled on an extra long sleeve shirt and a pair of pants. I trudged over to our disinfectant bin and pulled out my hazmat suit, still soaking with bleach and soap as a disinfectant. I pulled the bright yellow suit over my boots, secured my mask on my face, and tightened the seal. I made sure I had my double-barrel on me and a few rounds in case of an emergency. “I’ll be back,” I called to shwartz.
“Have a good time!” he yelled back sarcastically. One last double-triple safety check, and I was out the door.
I always hate walking around during the Prohdaz cataclysm. It’s just... depressing. Only about a year ago, Akihabara was one of the most popular streets in Tokyo, alongside Harajuku. Each store was flooded with frenzied customers seeking new manga and video games. The restaurants wafted rich smells of fresh food, accompanied by their lines around the corner. I still remember going up the escalators of Yodobashi in search of that one game I wanted, pushing through the dense crowds, and picking up a cold ice tea from the vending machine on my way out. Now, everything was eerily silent. No more neon signs. No more bustling crowds. No more open stores on the street. Everything is just a shell of what it used to be. It’s just a sad punch in the gut to walk around in this dead space where there once was so much liveliness. But I was so lost in thought, I almost completely missed a rare sight.
It was right by the corner of an old shops alleyway, about a few hundred feet away from me. It was a human-like figure; I could barely make out the rough shape from it’s silhouette. I hadn’t seen a human in a damn long time, and I doubted that this was anything like that. I slowly reached around my back, rummaging for my shotgun shells, and I and inched closer to it. “HEY! IF YOU’RE ONE OF US, YOU BETTER SPEAK UP BEFORE I BLOW YOU TO NOTHING!” I screamed. It whipped it’s head around. “Jesus!” it yelled out of surprise. I was astonished. English, sharp movements, recognition of species.. This was definitely a human. “H.. Holy crap..” I wheezed, out of breath from yelling. “Finally..”
I almost wanted to run to him and hug them, but was too dangerous. “C’mon man, I got another person back at my place, we really need you!” I told him as I jogged closer, “Please...” Their figure began to clear up from all of the building’s dust. “First of all, not man, but you can call me that if you want,” it said.
“Oh..” I replied awkwardly.
“I’m onboard.”
“Wait.. So you’re fine with joining us in survival? Even though you just met me two seconds ago?”
“Are you kidding? I’m barely making it with this crappy recycled gas mask. I’ve been wandering on foot since this whole city came down!”
“Well, no time for explanation yet. There’s probably hundreds of infected wandering around here, so the sooner we get back, the better.”
She nodded. I turned around and started to navigate our route home. “We’re pretty close to here. But besides that, what’s your name?” She ran up towards me a bit to maintain solid earshot, but kept a solid distance in between us.
“Charley,” she replied. I turned around, slung my shotgun on my shoulder, and found her eyes. “Well, Charley,” I said, “Welcome to the team.”
By the time we returned to the old apartment, we had already exchanged our goals and background. Besides survival, Charley had been wandering across cities, purging every weak Infected she could find, fully turned or not. She said she wanted to “end any future suffering”. Our conversation had gone quiet after that. We started to approach the third flight of stairs, meaning our apartment room was close. “Here it is,” I said, showing her the makeshift air seal door. It was strange that I felt myself trusting her so much. I had only met her a matter of minutes ago, and yet, I still felt as if I had known her for years. With everyone set on a goal of sheer survival, it’s hard not to find yourself searching for others to survive with. “I just gotta get this unsealed, give me a moment,” I explained. I gripped the knob and braced myself, getting ready to pull as hard as I could. I was used to opening our door at this point. It was a pretty strong seal, so it needed a sizable amount of force. So, with all of my strength in one motion, I pulled back. Instead of the door fighting back, it just swung open, and I fell from the lack of balance. How? I thought to myself in disbelief.
I couldn’t believe it. The door wasn’t sealed. A cold sweat started to trickle down my forehead. My head pounded. You see, the oxygen filter needs some support. It can’t cleanse a room while contaminated air flows in; the filtered air it makes will just become contaminated again. The air… it was all contaminated. I didn’t even know how long it was open, but what I did know is that it was going to be lethal regardless. “Oh, no, no, no..” I stuttered under my breath.
“What happened?” Charley asked. I swallowed hard, and regained my footing. “The door wasn’t sealed,” I explained.
“It’s okay,” she replied, “you can just filter the room out again.”
“No..” I said. “There was someone in there.”
Before I could even say anything else, Charley kicked down the door and sprinted in. “WE CAN SAVE HIM! WE CAN SAVE HIM!” I screamed, but it was no use. I couldn’t lose Schwartz. We’ve been in this together since day one. Without even bothering to close the door behind me, I dashed in after her. “SCHWARTZ!” I called, even though I knew there wouldn’t be an answer. I ran into his room where his desk was. I was struck with utter despair. I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t look away.
Charley had her gun pointed straight at his head. It was disgusting. His skin had turned a rotten pale white, his flesh was barely hanging onto his rotting body. His eyes completely lost their pupils and his teeth were fighting a disgusting decay. My heart dropped to my stomach. This wasn’t Schwartz anymore.
Suddenly, it came to life. Charley was surprised, too. But she wasn’t gonna give it any mercy. She quickly cocked her pistol and grasped her finger around the trigger. All I could do was stand and watch her shoot my friend. my feet were like the oxygen tanks we stored in the cabinets, heavy as dumbells. And in a split second, everything happened. She pulled the trigger. The dim room ignited with a muzzle flare as the bullet shot straight through the zombie. It stumbled and shook, but it didn’t collapse. The zombie was already too close in range.
Charley was pinned against the wall, unable to process how close it got. Even if she moved the slightest, the zombie would inhale the carbon dioxide and immediately find, and kill, the source. I reached behind me for my shotgun. But, to my realization, the shells had fallen out when I fell backwards at the door. I frantically made the motion of covering my mouth, and as she looked away from the zombie, her eyes told me she knew that all she could do was hold her breath.
It was dead silent. Not even the oxygen vent could fill up the empty stillness in the air. If I ran to get the shells, the zombie would hear a noise and instinctually slash whatever was in front of them, which was Charley. I always imagined saving someone’s life like an action scene in a movie: rolling them out of the way of an explosion, shooting a robber, or maybe even jumping out of a car. But this was the exact opposite. I couldn’t even say I could save her. All I could do was stand.
She looked at me with a frantic stare, signaling to me that she couldn’t breathe. I moved my hands up and down slowly, signalling for her to relax. She closed her eyes, and let herself get a bit less tense. It was working, somewhat. She looked a bit more calm. She started to relax her head, then her neck, then her hands. And then I realized: her hands. She was so focused on relaxing, she forgot she had a heavy, metal pistol in her hand. If that dropped, it would make a noise. And not a little noise. It all went in slow motion: I could see her muscles relax in her wrists, then her palms, and then... The only thing holding the gun, the fingers. Her eyes bolted open, and she realized what she had done. The smooth butt of the pistol slipped from her grip, and the barrel headed straight from the ground. And finally, the impact.
It was a jarring metal clang, and it stabbed through the air like an arrow to a sack of potatoes. The zombie jolted, and in a split second, it slashed straight across her ribcage. His arm abruptly stopped as it finished it’s swing, as if someone paused a TV. They both stood there, silent, in the dim room where Schwartz was once human. Charley’s eyes were stuck in an eerie stare, and her mouth was slightly agape. A small trickle of blood seeped from her lip. She was dead.
“GOD DAMMIT!” I screamed in rage. I was all alone. In one swift swing, I now had lost the only person to trust. I gripped my shotgun so hard my knuckles started turning white. It would work well enough. As the zombie swiveled towards the loud noise I just made, I lifted it high above my head, and with every single vessel of rage in my body, I slammed it onto the zombie’s withered skull. A gruesome crack echoed across the room. It didn’t move, but I brought my shotgun up again. “DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT!” I roared, whacking my shotgun into its head. And I did it again. And again. And again. I was breathing heavily, and my once yellow suit was splattered with rotten blood.
I was solo for the long run.
In one last fit of rage, I smashed my foot into its deformed skull. But I wasn’t alone.
In my rage, I had no time to think straight, and I didn’t even consider the door was left open. The dying oxygen filter was like a giant red flare among dense trees, a direct beacon for more zombies. I really screwed up now. There were three of ‘em already in the house, and I was cornered into the back of the work room, so I had no hope of closing the door. I knelt down to Charley and rummaged through her blood soaked bag. I pulled out another pistol, a small cleaver, a few bandages, and a Swiss army knife. The zombies were already blocking the entrance to the room. I shoved as many bullets into the magazine as it could fit, grabbed the knife, and pressed my back against the wall. So, how do you survive an apocalypse? Well, frankly, I learned the answer the hard way.
You don't.
