Alright, this is part one of a very long post. I had to basically fabricate an entire story to explain why the world save got deleted, but not my character. He didn’t die! Huzzah!
I don’t remember the last time I woke up with my head in a fog. Living in the apocalypse didn’t allow me that luxury, even when my safehouse was pretty extravagant in these trying times, being full to the brim with food and guns. I woke up to find myself in bed in a sterile room with bright lighting; a place I had never seen before. How did I get here? What happened last night? And why does my chest and head hurt?
I went to sit up, but I felt a strong resistance in my torso and arms. I looked down and saw that my extremities and body were fastened to the bed with thick leather straps. What the hell?! I tried to twist my limbs to free them from the shackles, when I heard a voice echo through the room from a PA system.
“Stay calm. Someone will be down to meet with you shortly.” a calm but stern voice said. I stopped fighting against the straps and laid back on the bed, waiting for my guest. At that moment, what happened the previous day came running back to me. I was shot! Several times! Did I die? Was this Heaven? Or Hell? Or was it Purgatory? Or something else altogether?
The silent hiss of a door across the room alerted me to the world again. A middle-aged man wearing army fatigues came in. He had a crew cut and wore an army cap, indicating that he was in the military, and not a looting charlatan like me. He was at ease, but he also had a gun holstered at his side. I tried to keep calm in my helpless state. If his intention was to murder me, I wouldn’t be here right now.
“You’re a lucky man.” he said. “You weren’t wearing body armor and took a full burst to the chest, and still here you are. A lesser man would be dead. Can you, uhhh… can you understand me?”
“Y-yes.” I said. The words kind of tripped coming out of my mouth, so unaccustomed I was to talking to people after a year of isolation. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Camp Epsilon in Texas, a military bunker designed to withstand a nuclear war, and one of the last safe havens in the world.” He sat down on a nearby chair and took out a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Sorry if you’re uncomfortable. We’re trying to test your blood, see if you’re infected.”
“I’m pretty sure I would have turned a long time ago if I was infected.” I said. He asked me about my story, so I explained to him that two days after the first outbreak, FEMA picked me up and threw me into a stasis pod, and when it ejected me, I was in an unfamiliar land with my only companion being some blathering idiot who got himself killed during a zombie attack early on. In my lengthy story, I omitted my trips to the two science labs where I learned about the heinous experiments that probably led to the outbreak, just in case this was a ruse and he would execute me for knowing too much, and I explained away that I drank a few flasks of mutagen in an effort to strengthen myself to fight the horde. Of course, what he said afterwards put me at the edge of my seat, had I been sitting in one and not strapped to the table.
“If what you told me is correct, you were only in stasis for a few days at least, or a few weeks at most.” he explained. “As for where we found you… you were dropped off in Mississippi.”
Mississippi?! That’s halfway on the other side of the country from where FEMA picked me up!
“I don’t know the circumstances that caused you to be left behind, but if you weren’t, you would likely have been subjected to a far worse fate. After the outbreak, my team located and stormed a research facility in the middle of a forest that wasn’t registered in any government database. Inside, we found the byproducts of horrible science experiments and documentation about creating different breeds of zombies and mutation of surrounding wildlife. It was probably for military purposes, but I wasn’t aware of such a project, and if it wasn’t on a government database, then it meant a foreign power was at play here.”
I obfuscated stupidity, despite him telling me what I already knew. I was still not taking chances. After all, either him or one of his men shot me.
“If that’s the case, then maybe an accidental breach in containment led to the outbreak?” I suggested. Immediately the man shook his head.
“No, the outbreaks were intentional. Searching through their security logs, we managed to find a record where all containment protocols were suddenly and immediately rescinded and deactivated, leading to the breach. A raid on another “ghost lab” led us to the same rescind order, identical down to the second. Our investigation led us to believe that it was premeditated in some way, but who gave the order and where, and who carried it out is all still a mystery to us. One thing’s for sure, though, is that they intend to cripple the world government and replace it with their own system.”
“How do you know all this? Does the President know about this conspiracy?”
The man’s face darkened.
“My name is Jack Schneider; I’m a general of the US Army, and the President… he has been assassinated. Two weeks after the outbreak, one of the Project Thor satellites was hijacked and aimed at Washington DC. Before the President could be sent into the underground bunker, the White House, and half of the surrounding city block had been blasted off the face of the map. All communication has since then stopped working, so I gathered whatever army personnel I could find and now we’re making regular excursions into towns and cities, trying to round up whatever survivors we can find and then ship them to one of our military bases out west in California. Some volunteers stay here to assist in the relief effort. Of course we don’t expect you to, if you don’t want to.”
“No no, I can help. I just can’t… I can’t help you like this.” I said, wriggling in my binds. I knew they’d need my help. I had more experience killing zombies than anyone he could bring forth.
“Oh right, sorry, lemme get that for you.” Jack loosened the straps on my body, and I sat up, stretching my sore limbs, back and neck. I looked down and saw that my chest was bare, and I mean literally bare. The feathers had been plucked, revealing the pale green skin underneath. I could see the fading scars of where I had been shot.
“Our medic did his best to extract as much of the shrapnel as he could, but there might be a few fragments still inside you.” he explained. “You might find it hard to exert yourself for a while, so try to take it slowly at first. It’ll probably be a little too early to send you out on a search and rescue mission, but I’m sure there are other things you can help with around the base. For now, though, you should try to rest and recover your strength. A fresh set of civvies will be brought shortly.”
“Thanks.” and with that, he stood up and walked out of the room. I laid back on the bed, trying to rest and not think about the gap in the feathers. As fruity as they looked, I grew used to my developing bird persona, and having them plucked was a little embarrassing and just plain looked unsightly. Thankfully they didn’t stuff me full of the antigen stem cells and revert the mutations. Maybe they assume some of them will come in handy?
Whatever the case was, I was not in any condition to investigate further or even worry about it. I was still recovering from being shot, and I was more than confident in my mutated body’s ability to heal after I was impaled by the tree branch. For some reason, though, I was actually quite tired. I wonder long I’ve been out? He said I was in Mississippi, and now Texas. I must have been out for a few days, at least, but that didn’t seem to account for anything. I rolled over on my side and allowed myself to go back to sleep, which came minutes later.
