The end of the world began with a child who'd been bitten by the closet monster. The parents only saw that the bite was small enough for their son to have done it themself and blamed the cartoons they let him watch.
Meanwhile a few dozen miles away, a military base scoured the countryside for their own child.
School passed in a warm haze for the bitten boy, all he was aware of was how his arm ached and how everywhere felt warmer than midsummer. By the time he'd gotten home, half-stumbling and half-dragged by his friends, he was well into the fever stage.
The troops were told to avoid direct contact with the child or anything it touched to minimise infection.
His parents found him in the back garden trying to cut his arm off with a trowel, completely unaware of what he was doing. His speech was garbled and sounded like he was talking through water as pus began to seep into his little lungs. The drive to the hospital had never felt longer.
A trail of tiny footprints led them to a neighbouring farmhouse, all occupants infected and sharply disposed of.
Unbeknownst to the parents, the nurses and the entirety of the waiting room, an apocalypse was brewing among them, asleep in his parent's arms. Every exhale, every bead of sweat mopped away, every fitful little cough forced the contagion out into a world that would never be told where it all started.
The footsteps carried onwards into a small town where they merged with general traffic.
As the waiting room began to feel a gradual rise in temperature, several miles away a closet door opened.
Meanwhile a few dozen miles away, a military base scoured the countryside for their own child.
School passed in a warm haze for the bitten boy, all he was aware of was how his arm ached and how everywhere felt warmer than midsummer. By the time he'd gotten home, half-stumbling and half-dragged by his friends, he was well into the fever stage.
The troops were told to avoid direct contact with the child or anything it touched to minimise infection.
His parents found him in the back garden trying to cut his arm off with a trowel, completely unaware of what he was doing. His speech was garbled and sounded like he was talking through water as pus began to seep into his little lungs. The drive to the hospital had never felt longer.
A trail of tiny footprints led them to a neighbouring farmhouse, all occupants infected and sharply disposed of.
Unbeknownst to the parents, the nurses and the entirety of the waiting room, an apocalypse was brewing among them, asleep in his parent's arms. Every exhale, every bead of sweat mopped away, every fitful little cough forced the contagion out into a world that would never be told where it all started.
The footsteps carried onwards into a small town where they merged with general traffic.
As the waiting room began to feel a gradual rise in temperature, several miles away a closet door opened.
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