I woke up early in the morning. A storm was raging outside the window, and the darkness had not yet lifted. When I looked at my phone, I was seized with panic: the number of victims had increased sevenfold, and the virus had reached our region. I was afraid to stay in the apartment and taped the windows and the front door.
During the day, I watched from the kitchen window what was happening on the street. People continued their lives, but soon fell to the ground, coughing and losing consciousness. Animals also died — the infection did not spare anyone. There were screams for help in the entrance, but I couldn't do anything to help. I had difficulty choosing a small amount of food from the stocks, but I had no appetite at all, I couldn't even get a piece.
One day I read the terrible news: all the bodies of the infected were missing from the morgue. Soon, strange people appeared on the street, staggering in different directions in clothes soaked in brown liquid.
Until I became one of them, I had reserves left. But the clean water started to run out. A brown liquid with a terrible smell was pouring out from under the tap. It was better to go out to the store. I wrapped a wet towel around my face, put on three sweaters, a jacket, several pairs of pants and took a sharp knife.
The air outside was unbearable; even through the towel there was a strange smell. He ran to a small stall with bread and water. Inside, I was struck by a terrible picture: someone's limb was lying on the floor, and the walls were splattered with brown liquid. I almost threw up.
Grabbing a bottle of water and bread, I hurried to leave the place.