a thousand lives away

Jack Abbot first heard about it on the police scanner.

The static, then the voices growing louder as communication went hazy with numerous officers frantically reporting for duty, an undercurrent of anxiety lacing their voices. A strange virus spreading alarmingly fast among the people, they said, before their voices were cut off by screaming – either their own, or others’.

Jack hastily ripped the comforter off his body, old reflexes washing the tiredness away completely. He stumbled to put on the prosthetic, then dressed in the clothes that still laid discarded on the floor from after his latest shift. His phone didn’t have any new notifications, yet, he noted as he checked it, but there wasn’t any reason to worry. Half his friends were asleep, the other half too busy working in the Pitt. The news had probably not even reached the television channels, or any other that sane and normal people frequented.

Two bags, full of necessities waited for him when he yanked the closet door open. He’d never been more thankful to always be over-prepared. Granola bars, flashlights, batteries, a gun, a few switchblades and more medical equipment than strictly necessary. His go-bags.