The Phenomenon

The world has changed. A lot. In a good way, you might ask? Well, that, I’m not entirely sure. I suppose that’s for you to decide. I also suppose that this is partially my doing.

Flying cars, buildings that tower thousands of miles in the clouds, hovering above the ground, robots carrying out duties like cooking and cleaning, mutations guarding civilization. This is what modern human cities look like in 2094.

My father works in a lab. He’s especially fond of animals so the government sorted him into the “mutations” category. The government classifies anyone interested in being a scientist into specific groups. Some to make buildings more secure. Some venturing farther into space, to see if we can extend our community, get rid of trash or find more mutations. And of course, the actual mutating class.

So how is this my fault, you might ask? Well, I decided that having more humanoid mutts would increase the chance of them understanding orders. My father liked the idea and started work immediately. You may predict a rebellion was brewing. No. Something went wrong in the breeding. Someone misunderstood instructions; and all our progress was thrown out the window.

They weren’t wiped out, oh no. Quite the opposite. They multiplied. Again. And again. And again. They’d infected everyone. I’m not exaggerating; everyone. Except two. Well, four, I suppose, if you count my dogs, Koda and Roscoe. Five, I guess, counting Laura’s, Cliff. But that’s beside the point!

The point is, it’s day 23 of The Apocalypse, Laura and I are the only human survivors. We’ve been hiding in a hospital for the past three weeks. People are dying every day, there’s nothing we can do, and we’ve been sleeping with one eye open, hardly surviving.

I close my eyes, leaning back into the wall. I drift in and out of sleep, despite my best efforts. I was supposed to be on night watch tonight, just like last night. Laura and I hadn’t fully rid our hideout of zombies (as we’d nicknames the mutts since they reminded us of the undead creatures). So until it’s secure, we’re still varying night watches.

I gasp, suddenly wide awake. I check my watch; 2:37 AM. I’d only slept for ten minutes.  I take a deep breath, my heart pounding. I slowly turn towards the door, falling silent. The all too familiar snarling echoes through the halls. A dark shadow is cast over the crack under the door, blocking out what little light shone in.

I shuffle back carefully from the entryway, trembling. I gently nudge Laura’s shoulder, shaking her awake.

“What…?” She mumbles groggily.

I swallow hard, pointing towards the door. She was suddenly wide awake, her ice-blue eyes practically glowing in the darkness. The mutts began to bang on the door repeatedly. After a moment, they were gone. Those few seconds had felt like eternities yet were over rather quickly.

We sit back down, silently deciding that we both desperately needed rest. We lay awake for a while, probably 30 minutes or so, before both slipping into uneasy sleep. My dreams, if you could even call them that, are filled with blood and horror, reminding me of the first day of the Apocalypse, when everyone was attacked. I wake with a start at about 8 AM. I nudge Laura once again, who, unlike last time, is alert and up in an instant. Her eyes soften as she sees me.

“We should go eat,” I whisper.

She simply nods, and we make out way down to the dimly lit cafeteria. The place almost feels like a hotel, where you can serve yourself. It was designed for visitors, of course. The food for the patients is said to be terrible, so we’re waiting until we genuinely need it.

The hospital we’re staying in is connected to a veterinarian clinic, so we have all the dog food we need. After “breakfast” we both go back to our base and get more much needed sleep. I wish we hadn’t.

Laura and I had set up a safe room in case any mutts ever made it to headquarters. And this was the moment to use it. I wake up to a horrible scratching and snarling at the door. I rub my eyes, and when my vision focuses, I see the door’s about to burst open.

“LAURA!” I scream.

She wakes up with a start, her head snapping to stare at the door. She grabs Koda’s collar, since he was closest to her, and tugs him along to the Safe Room. Roscoe is already there; he likes hiding in its tight corners.

I turn tail and run, expecting Cliff to follow me. But he doesn’t. I turn back, my eyes wide. He was just sitting there, snapping at the snarling, drooling, gory mutts.

“CLIFF!” I yell. “NO!” The room falls silent. The zombies pause, along with Laura’s dog. I draw in a quick breath. Did they just…listen to me…? No, it was impossible. The dog, maybe, but those mindless mutts wouldn’t stop for anyone. And yet here we were.

Cliff comes trotting over to me, panting proudly, assuming he’d been the one to stop the mutts. He makes his way to Laura, who immediately wraps her arms around his shoulders. The mutts follow.

“Stop,” I order sternly. They listen. We sit in silence for another moment. The only sound is Laura’s hushed cooing.

“AKIRA!” shouts a voice from behind them. The mutts turn their heads but stay where they are. A smile splits my face. There he was, perfectly safe, besides a few minor scratches.

“Dad!” I cry, flinging myself into his extended arms. I couldn’t stop the tears streaming down my face, and I didn’t bother trying. A few minutes pass before the silence is broken yet again by Laura.

“Mr. Sinclair?” Her voice is confused.

He simply gives her a curt nod, then turns back to me. He gently wipes my tears as I smile disbelievingly. “We did it,” he whispers.

“Did what?”

“You survived the Apocalypse. I found a cure.” It took me a moment before I really processed what he’d said. He found a cure; we could save the world, stop all this madness. Twenty-four days, and it was all finally over.

But this is not where my story ends, oh no. We learn to live with mutts. The world isn’t always a very innovating place. Not many people are open to suggestion; I know that. But I suppose when you’re alone for over three weeks, with psychotic mutations running through the streets, you learn to accept help from anybody. You’ve seen just what those mutts can do, and now, maybe, just maybe, you’ll be willing to wait and see what they can do to help.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be ready to accept them, to like them, to trust them.