The 'CDC'

I don’t think the ‘CDC’ is really the CDC. I don’t know who they are, but I don’t trust them.

They finally did something – that ‘something’ being, they blew down the door to Kyle’s house. They’d been clearing the streets, killing the Wasted Ones. At first, we thought that meant they were on our side.

When they arrived, they were in hazmat suits and pointed right at me. One of them grabbed me, moved my bangs out of the way – Anthony threatened to shoot him, if he didn’t let me go, but the bastard just kept manhandling me. He was turning me around, pointing at where I’d cut the sickness out.

I’d carved it in, and bled it out. A line through a serpent-curve. I bled it out of my head, and I’ve been perfectly fine since.

They knocked me out; I’m not sure what happened to the others. I started yelling since I woke up, screaming at this fake-CDC to let me out, or at least tell me what happened. Anthony, Kyle, Melissa. They could have done anything to them.

Finally, someone came in – maybe to shut me up with a sedative, maybe to kill me. He had a syringe. That’s all I know.

I bit him, spat on him, and told him to Waste. I don’t know if he is, now; I took his syringe, and bolted.

Currently, I’m hiding in this place – it’s bizarre, and doesn’t look like a government building. I’m positive they’re here somewhere, though, and if my little brother has taught me anything, it’s this: It may be dangerous to try to save someone, but if you can, you’ve got to stick together.

My mom and my dad are dead. My entire hometown is dead, I think. They’re all I’ve got left, and I think – for some reason – something tells me I’ve got an edge on these bastards. Or, I can give myself an edge. I beat the sickness. I can beat these people.

I’ll lay Waste to ‘em all.

Mind over matter.