Novid Shaid

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Part One: The Miracle

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One of the strangest things I have ever seen, during these years of the infected, is as follows.

It was in the second year of the virus, when they, basically, dominated everything and everywhere. Escaping to another country was pointless. Hoping for a safe haven was fruitless. All there was to do was to survive. So you could only move around in the daylight because at night, hundreds, if not thousands, roamed the streets, with their blazing eyes, raging fists and pounding feet. But daylight didn’t give much respite. When the infected retreated for their daily nap when the sun shone high, you had to be in constant watch for the gangs, the psychos and also the blood suckers. Those who were still kind of rational, but had developed a taste for human blood. Sick times beget sick desires.  But you could fight off the blood-suckers, psychos and the gangs. At least they were still human. A punch to the head. A metal pole to the groin. And they screamed out in pain just like the rest of us.

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