“Hey, no, enough radio.” This is a mess.

Doomsday. that’s what people on the radio say.

Religious folks are saying that they warned everyone. Conspiranoids say it's a trick from the government. Some chose the "easy" way out, and some were lucky enough to evacuate before the lockdown.

A new virus is spreading faster than scientists expected. It turns people into weird, bloodthirsty creatures. What was its name... cordyceps? Yeah, something like that.

Apparently, they are launching atomic bombs to clean the most infected cities. They've done that in other countries, most of them actually. But hearing it on the news does not feel the same as living it.

Unfortunately, Boston is currently one of those cities.

“You're gonna get a headache,” Ellie tells you, sitting down next to you on the couch, rubbing circles on the small of your back —she’s the one with a headache— empty bottles sit on the coffee table in front of it, and cold pizza is in the kitchen, having been there for a few hours now. You two are too anxious to eat but are trying to drink away the feeling.

It was her idea to dress nicely.

Her hair is tied, and her usually messy black nail polish now looks almost perfect, with the new flannel shirt and jeans she bought less than a month ago. She wanted to wear them on your anniversary, which is a few weeks away, but oh well.

This is your final night alive; you might as well spend it together, right?