Forums » General Roleplay » Epidemic [Semi-Closed]

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"Please proceed in an orderly fashion. Side-by-side, all the way to the check point; remember that any nonessential items may be confiscated. Have all of your identification and vaccination paperwork ready. We thank you for your cooperation."

It was a gloomy, muggy day in Los Angeles. The humid air was a choking prison amidst the sea of panicked human bodies, a blistering warmth rising from the proximity of far too many individuals in one place. They were herded like cattle, prodded from both fronts with the threat of armed soldiers as they were marched through a claustrophobically tight corridor — tall fences of barbed wire rose on either side, reinforced with dull sheets of scrap metal.

The monotonous buzz of broadcasting systems rose over the ambiance of wistful cries and pleas for a God that would not come, irking the young woman's ears and only adding to her swiftly mounting impatience. They repeated the same messages to ad nauseam, a pointless reminder of 'how the government was here to protect them' and 'your safety is ensured.' From a distance afar, those that claimed to have their well-being as their priority operated this migration to so-called sanctuary.

For the past week, Los Angeles had been placed under a CDC quarantine order; no entry or departure was allowed.

This had sparked riots, at first — then, a widespread panic, stampedes and hysterical displays of desperation to find the answers that they would never be provided with. The city ordinance had never given an explanation for the quarantine, only that the matter was out of their control and would be escalated to a national level of security. As helicopters and army aircraft became more common, so too did the inexplicable reports of mass homicide and suicide.

Rumors had started to spread. They varied in credibility: an incurable disease; the rapture brought down by God himself; biological warfare; a chemical leak into the city's water supply. Each new one was more absurd and ridiculous than the last, but mankind could not function without an explanation for the unexplained. Their lives were at severe danger, they knew that much — the rest would soon follow, and they had only their own reasoning to satiate that multiplying dread in the depths of their mind.

Two days ago, a news station had leaked the partial truth behind this nightmare.

Mariana glanced over to one of the precarious fences, her chest tightening as she observed the frenzied screams and jutting hands that clawed through the openings in the structure. The media hadn't revealed what had caused their condition, but it had announced that there was no saving them. Something similar to rabies, if she could recall correctly; a frothing fury, one that irreversibly sickened the mind and plagued one's ability to perform even the most basic cognitive functions. No cure, and even a second's swap of bodily fluids would result in infection. They were calling it an epidemic.

The harsh butt of a rifle being jabbed into her back was enough to knock Mariana out of her trance, and she bitterly glared back at the masked soldier as she rubbed at what would surely be a significant bruise in the morning. It was enough to get her moving again, a slow crawl through the sweaty mass of bodies and limbs and hopeless souls. More than once, she saw someone get forcefully removed from the crowd, disappearing off into the sides without so much as a hoarse whisper of protest.

An unsteady murmur rippled through the crowd; another chokehold had been reached, and the process of moving forward had been halted almost completely. Mariana rose to her tiptoes, scowling as she tried and failed to see what was going on ahead of them — the only thing that she could make out was another confrontation between a soldier and some sickly looking man. She should have been sympathetic for him, but the only thought on her mind upon seeing him was that he should have known better than to attempt to make it through the checkpoint. They weren't even accepting anyone that showed signs of the common cold, let alone someone who appeared as though they had the plague.

It should have gone as easily as every other neutralization that day; a quick shot to the head, the body bagged up and extracted before any contamination could occur.

But it didn't.

The fitful man wailed, thrashing against the gloved hand that was outreached towards him — another series of wild protests, now with some rebellion from the crowd to accentuate it. A group surged forward, the individual disappearing into their ranks; a surrounding unit of soldiers threatened to open fire upon them, but their warnings fell upon deaf ears. In the midst of the short-lived revolt, no one could have seen or heard the way the infectious man turned upon his comrades, wildly flailing with tooth and nail against them, rending flesh and bone into a spray of gore.

"You said that infection takes only thirty seconds to fully occur — what does that mean, professor?"

"Well, I'd say it means you have about thirty seconds to get out of there."

Five seconds.

Mariana stood in tense shock, her shoulder jostled by a few sprinting personnel that soared past her. The piercing roar of bullets firing through the air barely registered to her ears. Around her, the crowd had yet to notice the sudden turn in events, and consequently, the threat that was now put against their lives. She heard someone complain about how long this blockade was taking.

Fifteen seconds.

A soldier went down, his screams muffled by his mask as an old man tore into his thoracic cavity. Her peripheral vision made out the distinct shape of a human body going soaring through the air, the sight of a fence buckling under the pressure of a mass far too extensive for its feeble integrity to hold up to. Those around her had finally started to take note of what was happening, and small pockets of the horde began to take part in a mad stampede to rush forward. Her legs moved without her mind consciously being aware.

Thirty seconds.

The fence to Mariana's right fell, crashing down on top of an unfortunate group of bystanders that were trapped underneath its weight; they were the first to go, torn apart by the vicious mob that had stood on the other side of it. From there, a flood of ravenous creatures burst inside the makeshift corridor, their greedy, bloodthirsty hands gripping and pulling apart anything in their path. The world she knew went crumbling down in a matter of seconds, that false facade of safety and security fleeting as swiftly as the lives of those who could not escape. Mariana could do nothing but flee as far as her legs could take her.

There was no turning back. Going back meant delving into that massacre, and even if she could make it out of there alive, there was a solid two miles between here and the only exit for the checkpoint. No — the only chance that she had was to make it to that supposed safe house ahead of her.