Leon

I reverse my path after the message appears.  'Not enough information to panic just yet.' I think, 'But enough to sit down and think about possible next moves.'  On the way home, I think I see strange looking rats in the gutters and under the garbage, but have no time or desire to investigate. Nothing is different about the side streets, but the main roads are a mess.  The very air seems filled with confusion and anger.  The number of people and cars camped on the side of the road is disconcerting.  Once home I run up to my room and locked the door.  

My foster guardian Mr. 'You don't need to know my first name, just call me 'Sir', Smith', didn't even look up from the TV when I burst through the door.  No surprise there, he was passed out drunk before 3 in the afternoon.   

He took in as many foster kids as the government allowed for the checks.  Not that I minded really, he kept his hands to himself and fed the kids under his care.  That was more than most did in my experience.   

Once in my room, a short session with the clock radio lets me know that blue box message had indeed been sent to everyone in the world, apparently.  I had assumed so already, having no reason to doubt my sanity.  The arguments over whether or not it was a hoax, have already begun.  Hoax, Aliens, Government experiment gone wrong, Lizard people and cell phone radiation are the leading contenders for the message.

Online, I learned that along with the numerous people killed when the message appeared, there were already videos of strange animals and... things.  People in their infinite wisdom had already been killed poking some of them with sticks, both figuratively and literally.   

Balls of ooze that melted the flesh right off were the worst to see.  The highest kill count, however, went to the cute rabbit looking hairballs with a single horn and no feet .  The things had appeared EVERYWHERE and promptly attacked everything else they saw.   Bouncing, furry, little balls of death.  They were apparently weak, but because they looked so cute... well people are nothing if not predictable.

Note to self, 'Cute is the new deadly.'

My personality doesn't allow me to assume this is a hoax or game first.  If I'm wrong then fine, but I always start with the assumption that things are as they appear first.  With a sinking feeling, I take stock of my possessions in case of a worse case scenario.   

Bed, blankets, sheets, pillows and case, clothing, shoes, socks, school supplies, desktop computer, chair, dresser, case of water, bag of chips and a box of granola bars.

I empty my school bag and put socks, underwear, and extra shirts into it, along with the food, just in case I have to leave in a hurry.  Not that I plan on it, outside seems like it's getting more dangerous by the minute.  I don't eat much, but the food I have just wont last long.  All the food in the house won't last everyone here more than 4 days or so.  assuming everyone makes it home safe.   

The various schools could decide to lock down rather than send everyone home.  Not really my problem though, I don't really get along with anyone else here.  There are four other boys that live here and we all have chips on our shoulders from growing up in the system.  The problem is, theirs, as far as I can tell, comes coupled with a generous dose of stupidity.  The one thing I can't stand.

I sigh, if I plan to hold up here at home until the world knows where it stands, I'm going to need more food, period.  Before I can think about it too much, I head downstairs and take Mr. Smith car keys from the kitchen counter. I can't drive really well, but I do know how at least.  He's still out, good for me. I doubt he was awake when the message hit, and like most people, I don't think he would take it seriously if he had been.

The roads are a mess, with a ridiculous number of people standing besides their cars exchanging insurance information.  Are they serious? Are they hiding from the strange message in routines they know?  Doesn't matter. I head to the supermarket, which is more crowded than expected, but nowhere near as crowded as it should be.  Not if everyone was taking this day as seriously as I think they should.

The air of the store has fear in it, you can tell the people are afraid, but most don't know of what.  I'm afraid of running into one of those strange rabbit killers or ooze monsters or any of the other numerous things out there now.  Still, given this city's crime rate, the chances of death aren't significantly higher than this morning. Not yet, at least.

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I sweep through the store grabbing a variety of canned goods, more bottled water, rice, and pastas, plus whatever limited medical supplies I can find. I fill the cart to the brim, things are tense and checkout takes a while, but nothing happens.  It's only been a few hours but the more cautious inhabitants of this planet are probably quietly doing the same as I am, just in case.    

But I imagine most people are just sitting at home hoping this all blows over while they laugh at the people running around in a near panic.  I hope they get the last laugh, but somehow I don't think the dice are gonna roll that way.

I was about to head home, but stop at a sporting goods store, to grab two baseball bats.  I think about getting a gun, but there is no way in hell the store is gonna let a 16-year-old buy a firearm.  Oh well, I probably really am just overreacting anyway.  I hope so at least.   

I get a better look at the rats I thought I saw earlier on the drive home.  They are HUGE, the smallest the size of small dogs, and at first I think they are black, but they're purple, a deep dark purple.  Extra long hairy tails and a hairless body is enough to convince me something about them ain't right.  I don't consider myself to be all that stubborn so I'm extra convinced.  

Most the people that were on the streets earlier are gone, and those that remain are locked in their cars.  Everyone I can see is on their cell, overloading the networks.  I don't know if I'm happy or sad I have no one to call.  The lumps on and off the road swarmed by the rats, are what I assume happened to those who didn't make it to the shelter of their cars.

I run over quite a few of the little monsters on the way home, at least 20 of the things, but who's counting.  Are they attacking the car because it's moving, maybe?  I'm thankful the automatic garage means I don't have to step out of the car to park, but I don't even pause to check when I park.  I'm afraid if I check under the car one will jump out at my face like a bad horror plot. 

"Boy! What the fucking hell!? you stole my car!? You know I'm on the phone with the police, right now? I'm a call your caseworker next and have you thrown out of my house! What the fuck is wrong with you? You ain't never been no trouble, but now this!?"  Mr. Smith is awake and furious when I get back. 

"Sorry sir," I say, "it seemed like a good idea at the time, since I don't know how long the stores will be open."

"What the hell are you talking about?"  He yells, getting right up in my face.  I think about punching him in the throat.  I'm stronger than I look, but probably not strong enough to drop him with one shot. He's fat, but it's the kind that hides muscle.  Plus I'm not really a violent person unless it's a practical solution to a problem.  I just hate having to speak so much and I can tell this may be a long conversation if I don't handle it right.  Plus, y'know, personal space.

"Did you see the message earlier, the one that popped up in the air in front of everyone?" I ask.

"What message!?"  He demanded, while managing to get further into my personal space.  Now I'm wondering if I should give him a kiss, just to be random.

"It's probably still on the news, you should probably try to see if any new information came up.  Basically a blue message jump out the air at everyone, there's been a bunch of wild animals coming out of nowhere and people are getting killed left and right!"   

I'm purposely less than exact so his mind can fill in the blanks.   I want him curious enough to go watch the news which I'm sure is speculating the shit out of the situation.

"What!? some kinda terrorist attack!?" He yells, looking around the kitchen like he expects Johnny Jihad to jump out of the oven.   

"Something like that." I say, "That's why I took the car to get food, now, while the stores are still open."  I reach into my pocket and hand him a ten dollar bill, "This is for the gas."

Mr. Smith looks at me for a moment then snatches the money out of my hand and goes into the living room.  In moments, I hear a news station talking about pretty much the same thing I saw online earlier.   I keep an ear open, but, they don't seem to be saying anything I didn't already know, or expect.  Well, on to more immeadiate matters.

So long as we don't burn the place down, everyone usually just handles their own food situation.  The very fact that no one cares what I do, makes me want to be a little more responsible than most kids I guess, since I normally try to eat a more or less balanced diet.   

I want to cook as much food as possible and store it away, but I can't hog the kitchen all evening.  So I make dinner for everyone, and keep cooking while they eat.  Three of the four other boys in the house come down at some point and I give them a better dinner than they usually make for themselves.  The fourth boy, Adam, I'm told is missing and hasn't come home yet.  Almost 18 and scarcely seen, I  have no way of knowing where he would be, if he's alright or what I could do if he wasn't.  All things involving 'outside' being fairly low on my list of things to tackle at the moment.

After a few hours of the news, it's 9 PM, the fridge is full and the cabinets have enough can goods to last a while. Mr. Smith decided it's imperative to make a supply run of his own, to the liquor store, of course.   

It's the last time we see him.

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At first other than the message, nothing much seemed to change.  But change did come.  While television and the internet lasted, the world was beset with reports of strange aggressive animals and life forms appearing out of nowhere.  As the days went on the strange animals got bigger and more dangerous, but it wasn't until handguns stopped working on day 3 that everything went to hell.  Long guns stopped functioning on day four, explosives on day 5.  On days 6 and 7 electricity and machinery in general just started dying. flights were grounded, trains stopped running, and the roads became automotive grave yards.