An Anti-Hero's Tale
'Let's make a fast plan, watch it burn to the ground
I try to whisper, so no one figures it out
I'm not a bad man, I'm just overwhelmed
It's 'cause of these things, because of these things'
"These Things" by She Wants Revenge
Morgan Stone stared at the unconscious woman he cared for so deeply, pondering how he had reached the strange position he was in of waiting to kill her. He sat numbly across from her on the far wall of the darkened ten by fifteen bedroom, the loaded automatic handgun weighing heavily in his hand. Watching the dancing lights of the dozen or so candles that had been placed in a surrounding circle flicker across her beautiful still face, Morgan could hardly believe that she was infected and would soon rise. Rise from the dead and try to devour him, if he didn't execute her first. He remembered how the end of the world as he knew it began that day with one dark thought;
'Why not just off myself and be done with it all?'
This was, after a little internal debate and a lot of substance abuse, followed by an even darker and more disturbing thought;
'Why not take a few others with me when I get off?'
Thinking back, Morgan admitted he probably should have seen the trouble coming. Problem is no one ever thinks they're going to be "that guy" until its too late with your friends and families telling reporters how "quiet you were", plus confirming that he was really a "loner". In reality, the problems began in the eighth grade when he came to live in the states with his former SAS dad and new American step-mom from his birthplace of Manchester, England. Unfortunately, the transition was anything but smooth as he didn't quite managed to fit in with many Americans his age, a couple of friends and his girlfriend being the rare exception.
Morgan managed to deal with and survive the trials and tribulations of being the new kid at school, regardless of how bumpy the process was over the next few years. Being eighteen and a senior about to graduate, he is normally a quiet, unassuming guy who recently had to deal with a lot of pressure in his social life at school and at work. He got dumped by his girlfriend of four years a couple of weeks ago, and he hates the place where he works and the people there with an undying passion. Normally he'd just smile and brush things off, quietly taking it all and keeping his emotions to himself. And he would never think of resorting to violence.
Until earlier that day.
Morgan had finally snapped. His hold on sanity was, at best, lax to begin with. Add to that slight problem the fact that he had consumed quite a few shots of vodka, done several generous lines of cocaine and there was the recipe for disaster. Negative emotions he had kept buried for so long had finally broken free to the surface of his psyche. He was mad as hell at the world, especially the people at work, and he was really not going to take it any more. Armed with liquid and chemical courage, he had grabbed a couple of his dad's weapons from his gun collection plus a few other odds and ends, packed them in a gym bag and drove to the mall where he was fired from. On the way there, Morgan noticed a gang of people running down and mugging some poor sucker, but it wasn't his problem so he drove on. It was kind of strange, though, as he could swear that the gang of men and women also included a couple of kids. Even stranger still, he could also swear that they weren't beating their victim, but rather biting them.
He almost laughed when he reflected back about how naive he had been then, thinking that he couldn't possibly have seen what he thought he saw.
He then remembered when he pulled up to the mall entrance and saw a large group of people moving towards the other entrance of the super-sized shopping center. He noticed that the unusual looking group moved rather oddly, more of a shambling, shuffling movement more then normal walking. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite remember what at that time, so he disregarded it then. Taking one more rather substantial hit of coke, Morgan then stuffed the .45 in the back of his pants, grabbed the gym bag and marched towards the building and destiny.
A/N: This is the start of my first serial story, so stick around and hopefully you'll have as much fun reading it as I am writing it. Enjoy! Uh, and I also did a little tinkering with this part. Hopefully it reads better and draws in some more readers...- VM