The Day The Mothership Went Down…

My memories of this time are hazy at best, and return to me now and again like fleeting whispers of a dream…

Day 0:

The day the virus was contracted. I’m not exactly sure how. I had been surrounded by it for weeks, but thought myself immune and lucky at the same time. Naive!! That’s what I truly was. Because it gets everyone in the end…

Day 1:

Despite starting to feel the effects, I power on. Too many people rely on me. The small ones incessantly look for food. The large male one disappears during the day and also expects food on his return in the evening. I am starting to shuffle about like a dazed marshmallow.

Day 2:

I’m down! Someone has put me to bed, possibly the large male. I hear scratches and scuffles at the door combined with intermittent whining and stage whispers. I know they are trying to get in. How long have I been here? A week? A month? An hour??

Day 3:

My delirium continues, apparently, according to the wrath of the large male who says I’ve not given him a straight answer in 2 days. To the detriment of the two small people it seems, going on the levels of feral they have reached. Oh what have I done to incur such wrath from the God’s of good health??!!

Day 4:

I wake, compus mentus for the first time in day’s. I feel better, I can function properly again. I step out of bed and walk to the door. Opening it gingerly, I look out. My eye’s blink and blur in the stark light as I slowly start to focus on the scene in front of me. Sweet Jesus!!!

I close the door and creep quietly back to bed…

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