[WP] Write a story, any story, that does not begin with someone waking up and going through their morning routine.

The sun rose over the dusty dunes of these Badlands. I sighed and got up, "Hmph." I said to myself, realizing nobody returned my texts or calls. I turned on the TV as I ate some cereal and other breakfast delights drowsily, something about a bacteria in a far off nation that nobody cares about. After forcing myself out of the warm water of the shower, I dressed in slacks and a white collared shirt for work. Shit, 7:26, with traffic, I'll be late.

I walked into the garage and got into my red Toyota Civic. It roared to life as the garage door opened and I backed out into the blazing sun. Something was off outside, very off. Ms. Patterson's house across the street was burning and it was humid, smokey outside. The sun was orange and the sky red, rather than blue. I heard a zzzshhooosh and I looked up as an army jet flew over. "That's, new." I said, backing out and closing my garage door. Thump. Shit.

I got out and turned, looking at what I just hit, oh my god, Ms Patterson! "Jesus, are you okay?!" I asked, going to dial 911. "You have reached the Emergency 911 Line. Please hold." I stood for five, ten, twelve minutes. I hung up as a screech rang out down the street. I squinted and looked up the road to see the old African man, Eli, getting chased on his lawn by Tom, a coworker. In a frenzy, I got into the Civic and lurched forward back into the garage. ''Not good, not good!" I repeated to myself, busting down some old wooden furniture and pieces for barricades on my front door and small sliding windows.

Two hours and a million callouses later, I finally felt safe. But the power shut off minutes after, and already I could feel the difference without AC. It began to feel like I were melting in this heat, I stripped down to my boxers and shirt, running upstairs and putting on some shorts and a underarmor T-Shirt. Then, I remembered. The gun. In my nightstand, I had a .357 magnum in a locked metal box. So, like any reasonable man in a crisis, I grabbed it and sat in my basement, peering out of a small window to the street. God it was hot, I just need a few minutes of rel- DEAR GOD! A man with no teeth and multiple bruises and lacerations over his face slammed his head against my window "IN!" He began screaming, I saw more of.. Them, perk up and begin sprinting down the burning black pavement. Fuck. This is it.

I ran upstairs and they were pounding on my barricades, the chant of ''IN!'' pumped more fear and adrenaline into my veins. Getting in my civic, I barely bothered with the garage door and smashed through. I nearly totaled the rear of my car but I didnt give a damn. Speeding down the road, I caught glimpses of people being chased, fires, car accidents, it looked like the goddamn apocalypse. And so it was.

I flicked on the local radio station 92.7 The Desert FM. "Reports of random attacks and arson are coming in from all over the county. We suggest you go to designated evacuation centers, Fort Hudson, Wilamete International, or Ramsay Bus Station.. Oh, this just in, Ramsay Bus Station has been overrun. I repeat, Ramsay Bus Station is overrun. Please, enjoy some fine music from the Rolling Stones to hopefully calm you down." 'We Gotta Get Outta this Place' by the Animals came on. That dumbass Frank got the bandname wrong again.

Traffic was hell, people abandoning their cars or getting attacked in the wait. "Fuck this." I said, pulling onto the empty sidewalk and speeding down it. Little did I know, some bastard in rags would step out, then, I blacked out.

I woke in the smoking wreck, the sun was almost down and I heard moans, groans, and snapping of twigs all around me. The confusion of traffic was still going on, I tried to move, god no, I'm paralyzed! I tried to run, move, hit, anything as they converged. Hour after hour, I endured agony. Such is the pain of being immune.

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