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The Virus - 1

Elinor · 2009-08-25T15:31:34Z

The falling snow was beautiful, crystallized white. It came down quite peaceful, blanketing the metal rooftops of the city skyscrapers. Any other Christmas, this would have been beautiful. But the fact that the city was deserted when people realized what was going on, left a mark. There had once been a day when the virus wasn’t a problem. That day was about two years ago, but to Cara Thompson; it seemed light years in the past. The city – which was once called New York – was one of the last victims of the Virus, one of the last cities to be destroyed. Nobody knew why it happened – New York had been immune to the virus for quite some time. That was the reason that Cara was looking to come here – she wanted to be safe, after her town was affected. She originally lived in Rosewood, a small town in California, where the virus originated. Cara had the opportunity of being taken in by a wonderful family, who activity participated in trying to find cure for the virus. Sadly, six weeks after Cara came, the thing happened that everyone dreaded. The Virus began to spread through New York City. She and her adoptive family were planning on escaping the city, as many others were doing. But soon, her adoptive mother, father and brother ended up dead. Cara didn’t understand why she wasn’t affected. Perhaps she was immune, but why was she immune, when everyone else wasn’t? Cara didn’t like to think about it – it never turned out well when she did. As soon as the members of her family died, Cara got a backpack, and filled it with a bottle of water, three large Hershey bars, a loaf of bread, sleeping bag, and her favorite novel, Tarzan of the Apes, which had belonged to her biological parents. She opened it up quickly, where she saw an inscription. To Cara, on her thirteenth birthday Congratulations to our little teenager! We love you, and we hope you enjoy this book. Love, Mom and Dad Cara smiled weakly. Reading it made her remember what her life was like back then. She remembered the book being wrapped in red package tied with green bow. She remembered ripping the package open, and crying with delight, as she had always wanted to book. She had hugged her Mom. Cara sighed, wiping away a tear. She missed her family. If there had been people who escaped the city, they must have set up a sort of encampment. Cara needed to find them, if she was going to hope to survive, because the city was too dangerous. It would soon be a smoking ruin. Cara had no maps. She had no idea where she was going. Maybe, hopefully, she would be lucky and find survivors. Or, they would come find her. When Cara was younger, she was a girl scout – so she had some basic knowledge of survival tactics. Boil contaminated water. She figured that that one was going to turn out to be extremely useful. As Cara said a last goodbye to the small apartment which she had known for a very short time – the sleek, wooden bar, the glass refrigerator, the red carpet, and the LCD TV and long, brown couch, she flung open the door. She was in a long, gray room of doors with silver plaques indicating apartment number. Cara’s had been 302. Cara knew that all of the rooms were either abandoned, or their owners were dead, so there was no use trying to get help. She was nineteen, but she had not gone to school since junior year, when she lived in Rosewood. The Virus had that spring, and by July everyone in Rosewood was dead. After that, she camped out in the forest for a very long time, hoping that she would be safe. She learned about New York . . . and how it was safe. Making it her goal to travel there, she stayed in towns and cities all across the US for periods of time, as they slowly became infected, she made her way eastward. This was December . . . If the Virus had not occurred; Cara would be a freshman in college. Cara had always hoped to study Drama. Everything in the apartment still worked – she made her way down to elevator area. It wasn’t much, but it did have a long, glass coffee table with a few magazines, and a pale green love seat. Cara sat down – she couldn’t bring herself to look at any of the Magazines. Doing so would be too odd. She pushed the down button on the elevator – her thin, pale hand almost slammed it. Cara zipped up her metallic brown coat and put her hood up; because she had a feeling it was going to be cold outside. She knew she probably wouldn’t get far today, because she was still in a sort of trauma about what was actually happening. Cara sort of felt like Robert Neville, Will Smith’s character from the film I am Legend. Even though he did have a companion, he had an underlying faith that there were other people out there. Cara did too, and she was going to keep it, no matter what happened. Cara got into the elevator, which had a metal floor and dull brown walls. There were a few buttons – 1, 2, open, close. Cara pushed 1, and waited for the elevator to bring her down. She made a mental note for herself, a goal that she would make camp in safe place where it was not too cold and she could read Tarzan of the Apes. The elevator used the digital counter to show that they were on level one, so the doors came open, revealing a rather luxurious lobby. There was a long wall of metal lock boxes – where apartment residents had once gotten their mail. Beyond that, there was a lounge with glass walls, revealing the amount of snow outside. There was a long, wooden coffee table with a lot of magazines, two beige chairs and a long, beige couch. There were large, potted plants making the scene seem exotic. To the left of that, three brown marble stairs led to the doors. Cara sighed. She was beginning to like her home. But like all the others, it had to get destroyed. She slowly descended the stairs. She began to think about the consequences of what she was doing – how was she going to escape the city? How was she going to the find the people who she was sure existed? One week later, Cara awoke slowly. From the salmon-pink colors in the sky, she could see that it was early morning. Cara knew that she would had would have to eat her breakfast – which was a thinly sliced piece of bread broken in half, and a swig of water - and get going. She was running low on food. However, she didn’t feel like getting up. After all, every day that she walked, it didn’t seem like she was getting any closer to the Brooklyn Bridge, her ticket out of Manhattan. In addition, Cara was oddly warm inside her sleeping bag – she had camped out on the doorstep of an Old Italian restaurant. – And with each day, the weather was getting excessively colder. And, she was tired. Since she didn’t go to school, she wasn’t used to getting up early. Cara closed her eyes and opened them again. She got out of her sleeping bag, a wave of coldness swirling around her body. She got a piece of chocolate out of her knapsack, which she decided to eat instead of bread. Taking a drink of water, she looked at the sky again, realizing that it was probably only around five or six and it probably wouldn’t hurt if she spent an hour or so reading Tarzan of the Apes. In the end, that’s what Cara decided to do. However, it didn’t last long, as she soon found herself drifting back into her pillow.

Tadeusz

Gender

Points 1579

Reviews 4

Wed Oct 28, 2009 2:58 am

Tadeusz says... · Wed Oct 28, 2009 2:58 am

This was an interesting story. I always love a good virus/apocalypse story. Through I couldn't find really any problems with it, I'm only a newbie to reviewing.

This story will have alot of depth in the way you write and you write well. I don't want to rush the story or any thing but what exactly is the virus?. I mean obviously it kills but that's all we know. So I would put more charistics in the virus itself like how it kills or what causes it.
I hope this will be some help to you.

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Calmal

Gender

Points 2049

Reviews 9

Thu Nov 05, 2009 7:16 pm

Calmal says... · Thu Nov 05, 2009 7:16 pm

This story has great potential which you have shown through your attention to detail. You have carfully though about the 5 W's (Who, Where, When, Why and What) essential to written and theatrical work. I congratulate you and wish you the best of luck.

Calmal

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Every first draft is perfect, because all a first draft has to do is exist.
— Jane Smiley

The Virus - 1

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