PiE-Alone-Chapter 1

>Picking up the ham radio receiver you press the button down, shutting out the constant static of the radio signal.

"My name is Anonymous, I am on the shore of the Hillsborough river. My location is the USF Riverfront Park. If anyone out there can hear me, please send aid. I am low on food and medical supplies".

>Letting go of the button the same old static washes over your ears, the sound you have grown to despise yet you feel comforted from it at the same time.

>It's been roughly 13 years since the spread of the disease. At the time it was just regarded as a new form of the common cold, but over time it has grown into a widespread epidemic.

>The victims would start with things like high fevers and dizziness.

>It would then grow a small bump on the back of your neck, itching and burning like wildfire.

>Then, about 2-3 weeks after this happens. The bump will rupture, spreading a hard, sponge like fungus over the victims head. Rupturing their skulls and killing them, it can then take over as host and use the bodies as a source of nutrients, at least until the body decomposes. That event leads to the fungus dying, as it has no more food.

>The worst of it is that they can control the body like it was their own, like some zombie.

>Luckily, the only way it can spread is by mouth or a direct line into the bloodstream. Later on scientists have found out that very heavy inhalation will also spread the disease. But that would take hours of exposure to happen.

>A slight whine in the static makes you jump up out of your chair and grab the receiver again, putting it to your ear, focusing as hard as you can to pick up any scrap of speech that could go through.

>After a good 2 minutes of the same static silence, you press the button down again.

"Hello? Can you hear me? My name is Anonymous, I am at the USF Riverfront Park".

>Letting go of the button a second time renders nothing, just the same old static.

>You sit down and lean back in your chair, joints creaking under your weight.

>What was that? It sounded like a jet engine was coming through the radio. Never heard that happen before.

>Maybe there is someone out there...

>Maybe it's her...

>Can't be Anon, don't be stupid. She's been long gone.

"Might as well go back out and see what I can scavenge up".

>Why you still bother with the damn radio you don't know, for the past 3 years no one has answered.

>Getting back up you walk to the locker by the door to your shoddily reinforced...well you could call it a house.

>Open it up you grab your gas mask and your backpack.

>Putting the backpack on you wrap the gas mask around your neck, for quick access.

>Making sure your boots are tight and nothing is missing from your bag you grab the machete from the side of the door.

Attaching the sheath to your leg straps on your cargo pants you undo both of the heavy bolts and push the steel door open, out into the searing sun.

>Judging by it's position it's about 9am. Good, gives you enough time to get into town and scavenge a bit deeper than usual.

>Your modest garden is doing well but you want something different than a plate of peppers and potatoes.

>It could be worse but you're a man of variety.

>Shielding your eyes from the sun you clamber into your Jeep and start it up.

>It's 4 liter 6 cylinder motor rumbles to life, idling as it warms up.

>Putting the shifter into 1st you depress the clutch and start your daily commute into the downtown area.

>You also turn on the CD player, letting the Gorillaz play the soundtrack to your day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IUjtHf76wM

>Getting on to the road you speed up to about 60 mph and relax.

>No other traffic to stop you so you blow through intersections and stop signs, never slowing down.

>After 9 years of hell you would think that small act wouldn't still bring butterflies to your stomach but you get jittery at every intersection. Every fibre in your being begging you stop.

>You start your routine zone check for any people, infected or alive.

>No one out this way though, you've killed most of the infected here.

>Your machete can attest to that.

>You're numb to it now but the first time had you in shambles for days, couldn't sleep and anything you tried to eat would come back up as bile.

>Dodging around an abandoned car you turn onto another street, heading south.

>It's been quite some time since you've seen anyone alive. You're sure there are still people out there though, that's why you sit at your radio every morning. The range extends out to the Orlando area so anyone in that circle can hear you.

>Looking around you see what's left of humanity, after the breakout. Panic and anarchy had filled your memories of those times, you were just a young teenager then. 14 years old and with a group of survivors that had escaped the city and fled to the countryside. Hoping to get away from the chaos.

>Eventually we were overrun and those that were with us had either killed themselves, each other, or fought until their last breath.

>You and your sister had managed to flee, and came back to a dead Tampa.

>Broken windows, cars upturned or abandoned entirely, rubble from heavier fighting, and even some bones lay around the streets and parking lots.

>Any attempt by government to intervene were met with fierce fighting and casualties. To the point to where they just pulled out and left us to rot.

>That was 10 years ago though, when you were 14. You remember the many nights of bombings and gunfire filling the air.

>Compared to now it seemed so alive, even if we were fighting we had unity in a dark way.

>Damn military had just shot anyone they saw, in fear that the person was infected.

>This itself caused the people that weren't infected to fight back, and before long it looked like Iraq all over again.

>You downshift and slow down, making a right and heading west.

>Getting back up to speed you spot movement to your left, causing you to get on the brakes hard and bring the Jeep to a halt.

>You step out of the Jeep and draw your machete, ready for any infected.

>Straining your ears brings nothing, nothing but the sound of your breath and the steady wind.

>Cautiously, you trek forward. Off the road and into the parking lot of a Publix, looking around all the cars left by people long past.

>You could've swore you saw movement, unless you really are starting to go crazy.

>You spend the next 5 minutes walking in between cars, looking for whatever had moved.

>It's not an infected you can be sure of that. It's would've came and tried to make you its' breakfast by now.

>They can't move very fast and if they try they end up just stumbling, but if they happen to come out in a swarm you're very much screwed.

>Satisfied that there's nothing out here you look to the Publix, wondering if there's anything in there after all these years.

>Worth a try, you haven't scavenged this place but it most likely was ransacked not long after the initial panic.

>Besides, you have nothing but time.

>Approaching what's left of the automatic doors you push one out of the way, freeing up some space to get in.

>Walking into the store was like entering an entirely different realm, whereas the outside air was crisp and clear. The inside of this store was dusty, stale, and had a rough texture to it that was readily apparent in your nostrils.

>The shelves were turned over or broken to the point where they looked like crumpled metal, the floor was covered in dust and grime, and the atmosphere was deathly quiet. Putting tingles on the back of your neck and a ringing in your ear.

>You begin to slowly step into an aisle, walking down between shelves of nothing. Hoping to find something at least a bit useful in here.

>A new spatula would be nice, you accidentally burnt the hell out of the plastic one you had before.

>Poking through the torn boxes and broken shelves you find nothing. Not even a toothpick.

>Ruffling trough some other boxes you find a serving spoon, nothing of much use. So you put it back, and resume your search.

>You make your way to the left side of the store where there was usually general goods such as soaps and medicines.

>Picking through the area you find some Irish Spring liquid soap.

"Sweet, love this stuff".

>Opening up your backpack you place it next to your first aid kit and zip up the pack again.

>Turning the corner you walk into the next aisle.

>Scraps of trash strewn everywhere does little to help your search as you begin to pick through the boxes and rubble again.

>You find a small pack of Hello Kitty Band Aids. Even with your disliking of Hello Kitty you can use any bandages you find, so you stow them away in your bag.

>Getting back up and taking a look around, reveals nothing of any interest. Unless you want dirt and garbage.

>You really want somewhere to scavenge that hasn't been touched, no matter how far gone an idea like that is.

>Searching through the offices find no usable electronics, and there's no use for the small amount of money you found in the back. So you left those on the counter, with a dated note saying "You're not Alone".

>Walking through the food section was all but useless, as you found a spatula!

>And it's metal!

>Trip wasn't so bad after all.

>Picking through further grants you nothing but bloodstains and more rubble.

>Giving up on your search you go back outside and walk to your Jeep.

>Hopping back in you turn it on and start your drive again, heading towards the Downtown area.

>A long, quiet, and uneventful ride awaited you as you cascade around cars and semi trucks. Making your way towards the skyscrapers that signal downtown Tampa.

>You haven't been in much, farthest you've ever gotten was the very edge. Before night time had arrived and you were forced to hurry back home.

>No scientist has ever said this but the infected seem to be very active during night time hours.

>You try your hardest to not be outside during this, no exceptions.

>After a modest half hour drive you arrive at the outskirts of downtown Tampa, buildings towering over you. Hopefully full of some stuff you can use.

>Hopefully.

>You really hate having to scavenge 9 years after everyone else has been here.

>Everything is either gone, broken beyond repair, or rotten when it comes to food.

>Hopefully SOMETHING here can be of use, it's a pretty big part of town.

>Driving into the area you have to go slower in order to dodge around the cars that had been left. A lot more in this part of town, also there's probably some old survivor forts that'll have some useful items. Or if it's good enough you might move into Downtown.

>The outskirts of Tampa are empty of anything and pretty dull.

>That and there's no infected out there. Which, sad to say, is one of the only highlights in your otherwise dreary and boring day.

>Driving up to the Suntrust building it looks...better than the rest of the buildings.

>Wonder why that is.

>Parking the Jeep on the curb, you turn the engine off and clamber out.

The building itself looks relatively unharmed, only some holes from bullets and scratches adorn the walls, making themselves seen in the yellow light of the rising sun.

>Approaching the door you find that they're still attached. An odd sight, as the only other door you've ever seen still standing is the one on your own fort.

>Slowly pulling the door lets out a ear piercing creaking noise, the kind that screams WD40.

>Like the Publix, the air inside the building is stale, and thick. Like this door hasn't been opened in a long time.

>Boots clacking on the linoleum flooring, you make your way around the various rooms.

>Nothing but paper and various books on things that don't matter any more are strewn around, like a hurricane came through and left this as its' trail of destruction.

>Giving up on the first floor you enter the main lobby again, looking for the stairs.

>Looking over what you guessed was the receptionist's desk you spot a piece of clean white paper. With a date from not too long ago, maybe a couple of months.

>Picking it up and angling it to the light, you begin to read.

"If anyone finds this note, please come to the Convention Center. We have about 10 people in dire need of help and we are low on supplies. Everything is already gone and we can't find much here. We have children also".

>Little spots of what you assume are tears adorn the paper, hammering home the emotion behind these words.

>10 people in need of medical help and children? That's a lot to take care of...

>Sad to say but they're most likely gone or died off, or worse became infected.

>Those 10 most likely had caught the disease.

>No hurt in trying though, having someone else around will be a welcome thing compared to your daily solitary life.

>Abandoning the building you hurry to the Jeep and turn it around, heading toward the Convention center.

>Even if you can save one, it'll be alright.

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>Arriving at the Convention Center you jog up the steps and enter the building.

>The air was roughly the same as the outside due to there being no doors, or windows, or anything.

>The only thing left is the frame of the structure and the walls to the rooms on the inside.

>Once again you make your way around the first floor, looking for any signs of life or the presence of it.

>Prowling through the place nothing even so much as gives off a slight implication that someone was here, much less LIVING here.

>Might as well just give up, they probably left al-.

>"OOOOOOOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA. HE FOLLOW NOTE HE DIES! GOTTA EAT THE PEOPLE, DEAD PEOPLE CANT BE CURSED! DEAD PEOPLE CAN'T BE CURSED! GONNA EAT 'EM GOTTA EAT 'EM! HE GONNA DIE!".

>Holy mother of god what was that.

>Quickly drawing your machete from its sheath you have at the ready, scanning the area for the source of the high pitched, psychotic yelling.

>Your heart is beating faster and faster, making it hard to focus and concentrate.

>All you hear is the blood in your ears, pulsing like mad.

>A figure jumps out from one of the rooms to your right.

>It's an older man. Tall, pale, and very skinny. Shaking all over he lifts a very large bloodstained kitchen knife, pointing it directly at you.

>"YOU SAY PRAYER TO GOD?! I'M GONNA CUT YOU UP AND EAT YOU! YOU WON'T BE CURSED THEN! THANK ME!".

>You start to move backwards towards the door, ready to bolt. You're not fighting this crazy bastard, you're getting the hell out.

>The man's face grows even more angry than you thought possible, as he bellows out a primal roar of rage and madness.

>"I SAID THANK MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!".

>He runs full sprint at you, which you take off out of the door and run towards the Jeep.

>"RUNNING MAKE NO SENSE! WHY DO YOU RUN FROM MY NICENESS? WHY DO YOU RUN FROM ME!?".

>Good god this fucker is crazy.

>Skipping steps down the stairs you bring yourself back up to full speed, running like hell to the Jeep.

>Hell no you're not dying to this lunatic, and you're for damn sure not going to be eaten.

>You can hear his footsteps get closer as he screams random garble and obscenities, you don't think you can get inside the Jeep before he plunges that knife into you.

>Guess you have to fight him...

>You really wanted to avoid this.

>Using the ball of your left foot you spin around raise your machete while the man stops, and looks straight into your eyes. His eyes portraying the utmost madness, the very base of human instinct to kill and feed one's own desires above all.

>"YOU GIVE UP?! GOOOOOOD DADDY DOESN'T WANT TO KEEP CHASING PEOPLE THAT NEED TO BE SAVED!".

"Back off you crazy bastard, before I kill you".

>The man lets out a laugh so maniacal that the hair on the back of your necks stand on end, "KILL ME? WHY ARE YOU GOING TO KILL THE MAN THAT'S HELPING YOU? I'M HELPING YOU".

>He lunges at you out of the blue, dodging to the side you barely miss the swinging knife blade. The sound of swishing air rushing past your right ear.

>"WHY", he takes another swing. This time a cross swipe at your face, you pull back and dodge it. "DO. YOU. RUN. AWAY. FROM. MY. CHARITY!".

>Having enough of this you lash out with the machete, taking a shot at his left arm.

>The guy doesn't even bother dodging as the machete cuts into his flesh, you can feel the blade strike bone. The crunch of the splintering bone and his screams fill your ears as he staggers back.

>"W-WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS? YOU ARE THE WORST KIND OF MONSTER! I ONLY TRY TO HELP YOU, DEAD CAN'T BE CURSED!. IT WAS THE ONLY WAY FOR YOU TO BE SAVED! NOW YOU WILL BE CURSED TO OBLIVION!".

>You give him no time as you slash again at his neck, the blade punches through his flesh, hitting an artery. Crimson blood is gushing out form the wound where you struck him.

>He stares wide-eyed at you, as he reaches for you with an arm.

>"B-Beware...of the purple one".

>The man drops to his knees, before slumping to the side and falling to the ground.

>Heart still pounding you inch closer to him and nudge him with your foot, checking to see of he's still alive.

>Stock still...he's dead.

>You slouch your shoulders and sit on the ground, hands clenched together. The bloodied machete laying to your side.

>you breath coming out in ragged bursts you reach for a rag in your pack.

>Taking it out and wiping your face with it you pick up the machete and wipe the blood off the blade.

>You had taken your first life...you had lasted 13 damn years without killing anyone that wasn't infected...

>Happened so quick...always thought it would be more dramatic.

>Blade clean you get back up and sheath the machete, looking at the crazed man that just tried to kill you. Sadly, you can't really be mad at him. You're surprised at yourself for not going insane all this time.

>Beware of the purple one? You don't know what that means but you really don't want to find out. By the time you'll get back home it'll be close to dark, and you REALLY don't want to be out then.

>Grabbing the man's right arm you drag him to the edge of the docks, where you tip him into the river.

>Don't want him to run the chance of becoming an infected. That and you can't just leave him on the ground.

>With that you make your way to the Jeep, get in and turn around, to head home.

>The drive back was once again uneventful, minus the infected you saw trying to cross a road. A quick bump with the Jeep tires and it was taken care of.

>As you drive into your little hidey-hole and cut the engine you notice a strange air about the place.

>It's...more quiet than usual...

>Cautiously exiting the Jeep you slowly make your way to the door.

>It's cracked open...

>Readying your machete you silently slip into the house, but what you find goes against everything you had in mind.

>A small, purple horse is facing away from you. With wings, what looks to be a unicorn's horn, and a red star on it's back leg.

>"Oh Celestia, I don't know where I am...I shouldn't have tested that spell on myself it was nowhere NEAR done and-"

>As it keeps jabbering it hasn't noticed you yet. But you really doubt it's real...

>It has to be a hallucination right? I side effect of everything going on today, or the heat, or...something.

>You slowly approach it from behind, still oblivious to you.

>Reaching out with your right hand you poke it in the rump, sending it straight into the air with a very loud shriek.

>Jumping back yourself you grab onto the wall to keep you from falling.

>As the purple horse thing turns around it's horn glows to match it's coat color, "What in Celestia's name are you"?

>You reply to her in a shock.

"Me!? I should be asking you that question what the fuck are YOU?".