Sophie. I always thought the name was pretty. My mother gave it to me. My father had chosen either Jessica or Rose. Rose was my grandmother, and thankfully I wasn’t cursed with that name. Jessica was more of a whim, but it sounds too prissy. I’m glad I’m named Sophie. My mother made a good choice. It’ll look beautiful carved in a headstone of marble and a difference of sixteen years over a eulogy along the lines of “She fought for her beliefs,” or, “Beloved and Admired in her time.” But who am I kidding? There’s not going to be anyone left to carve the tombstone anyway.

The scary thing about the virus is that it doesn’t require you to make contact with an infected person. You don’t need to be bitten or scratched like in the movies. And it’s not airborne, so you can’t seal yourself off from it. It’s already in us. All of us. It’s a sleeper virus with a whole species for a carrier. All mammals are susceptible except aquatic and hoofed animals. Revenge for foot-and-mouth I suppose. And no one knows why or how it’s triggered.

Right now I’m hiding in a wooden crate in an old storage warehouse sucking quietly on a juice box. Someone is out there right now, but for the time being they aren’t actively searching for me. I’m famished but all I have is a fruit punch. What can you do? Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’m the last human being alive that’s not one of them. Kind of sobering. Ironically, I wish I could be drunk now.

There are-I mean were-a lot of theories. Some of the scientists proposed that this sickness was inherent in the cells of all humans and susceptible mammals and had been so for quite sometime. Something had only needed to set it off. A geologic event or something. On the other hand, many believed that some type of space borne life form had landed on earth, only it was microscopic. It would have slowly infected the entire population over a period of decades. We would all have it before symptoms started to appear. Some of us would turn faster than others but eventually we would all go.

The first I heard of it was a year ago. People in third world countries were exhibiting signs of an as-yet-unheard-of sickness. That’s something you write off as common occurrence though. Sick people in Ethiopia. Then the first signs of it in France and Germany. And the first pictures. It starts with normal flu-like symptoms and stiffness in the neck, followed by loss of consciousness and eventually brain death. This was misdiagnosed in many cases as meningitis. But soon the unique symptoms began to surface. The outer layer of skin rots, but the remainder of the body’s flesh remains intact. The eye sockets run blood like faucets and the brain reactivates with a new purpose. To eat raw flesh off of anything. Muscular strength increases rapidly after each new body is consumed. Signs of higher level intelligence are apparent through pack-hunting tendencies and indirect attacking habits. But they aren’t beyond cannibalism in some cases. The virus reached epidemic proportions in no time. Cases sprang up across the continental US without any connection. Finally we realized the truth. We all already had it. It was just a matter of time before we turned.

Justin is back. He runs through the room just by the front of my crate. His clothes are ripped and barely cling to his body. And he’s incredibly fast. I tense up hoping he doesn’t notice me. The empty juice box is sitting by my foot. Through a hole in the side of my hiding home I can see that Justin has passed me by without suspicion. He and a few strangers crowd around a corpse, ravaging it. I’m so hungry that I almost lick my lips at the sight. Pain down my back distracts me though. The confined space of the box is getting to my muscles.

Mom, dad, Justin, and I had all packed up our things. We made way for Puerto Rico. Once there, the plan was to go to the small island of Vieques. It had been a favorite vacationing spot and we hoped that somehow we could avoid this plague there. But if we didn’t, we all agreed that it was a good place to die.

Mom and dad tried to keep cheery for us. Even as we passed entire fields of bloody reanimated humans and animals, they acted like it was a normal day. Then dad started acting funny, and rubbing his neck. When we asked, he just said he was tired, but the next thing we knew, he was unconscious. I was terrified. Justin kept saying we should bury him but mom wouldn’t let him go. I knew we needed to leave him but there was nothing I could say to her. We pulled over at an abandoned motel. Mom just sat there with dad in a bed while Justin went to dig a hole behind the building. I took the opportunity to shower. After drying off, I threw on a tee-shirt. Then I heard strange noises from outside. Wet, squishy noises. Dad was chewing on mom’s throat. His eyes were flowing out of his head and his exposed muscles bulged further with every bite. I tip-toed for the door and somehow, he didn’t notice me. I managed to get to the car, where I ran into Justin. One look at me almost naked and he knew what had happened. The car keys were in the room though. Luckily a set of keys for a truck was left in the main office. We escaped and left our parents behind forever.

For some reason I’m feeling shy being so exposed. There’s not even anyone left to stare at me. All the guys are running around with their insides exposed. They are the ones who should be embarrassed! But its human nature I suppose. I curl up tighter and scratch at my feet. The skin itches for some reason. And I’m stifling sneezes, hoping that no one notices.

This warehouse is in the middle of Florida. I’m not exactly sure where. I just know that when I woke up from my nap, the car was stopped and Justin was lying on the ground about twenty feet away from the open driver’s side door. The keys were still in the ignition but the car was out of gas. He had tried to get away to save me but he hadn’t gotten far. There was a pool of blood forming around his head. I had little time.

I jumped out of the truck and ran for the nearest building. Once I got inside, I calmed down a bit and looked around. I had wanted to find some clothing, but all I found was a fridge with a single juice box left. I noticed a nice empty crate and I took my drink and curled up inside to rest until I could decide what to do.

So here I am, sore neck and tired as hell. I don’t even really feel sad, but tears are welling up in my eyes. I go to wipe them away and my fingers come away red. It’s kind of a dejected feeling, really. I’m just so hungry. Justin is right outside the box. I climb out because I miss him. I think about it and I realize that I must have been sleeping for a few hours or so. I feel different. Anyway, I want to hug my brother. I love him. I want to hang out with Justin again, like old times. And I can’t wait to tear his face off and eat it.