Toxicity

When I was little, I dreamed of what life would be like when I was older. I always wanted a little yellow house with a garden. I'd live alone and run a little bakery. While most of the other children would want to be princesses, astronauts, race car drivers, and other fantastical ideals, I wanted a calm and simple life. Now, I can only hope to survive one day at a time.
One year ago, the government accidentally released a disease, later called the Black Death. At first there was only one case, in California, where it was first released. The Black Death was originally a supposed cure for cancer. Now, cancer is the least of our worries. After the first case, nothing else happened. It was calm for a few month and everyone said it was a freak accident.
Then came the Italy case. There were no cases in between, no reasons for the Death to jump oceans. The very next day, there was another case in Venezuela. Next was Greenland. Soon enough, the entire world was on quarantine. Schools and restaurants shut down, grocery stores rarely had supplies, and once bustling cities looked like ghost towns. It became a three-way war between government officials, Blackbloods, and normal people just trying to live to see tomorrow.
Everyone coined the name 'Blackbloods' for those infected. The first sign of being infected is bloodshot eyes and being irritable. Next, they show more prominent signs of aggression. The final step: black blood. The veins become so obvious and black lines zigzag all through their bodies. At that point there is no semblance to sanity and they become so aggressive that they will attack anything. Now that it has been a year, buildings have fallen out of repair, and most people are forced to hunt or gather in the woods or try to scavenge food from old houses and buildings.
My parents both contracted the Black Death. My own father had attacked me. He chased me out of my own home, through the garage. He had been a hunter and had several guns. I remember picking up his 223 Remington and shooting him square in the chest seven times. I emerged from the fight almost unscathed and miraculously did not contract the Black Death. The only wound I had was a long, twisted gouge down my back. It took a long time for it to heal, unable to get stitches or any professional medical care. Luckily, my friend Jax knows first aid and was able to get me patched up pretty well.
Nowadays, Jax and I survive as best as we can. We can't set up a permanent camp and have been on the move for three months now. We both hunt, using old knives and traps. Since humanity has essentially been destroyed, it is easier for wildlife to flourish. Trees and plants have already begun taking over cities and taking back what was theirs hundreds of years ago.
Currently, Jax and I are stationed in the deep woods of Colorado, in the Rocky Mountains. Our temporary camp is small and humble, but safe. At least for now... I'm perched in a tree, watching a small clearing in which I've set up a salt lick. I've been up here for several hours, waiting for a deer to come. My head rests on the trunk of the tree, my back has long since gotten used to my uncomfortable position.
A twig snapped behind my tree. I go stock still, hardly daring to breathe. Suddenly, laughter breaks out. I sigh, sagging against the tree. "Jax, I swear to god!" I turn to see him bent over laughing, his auburn hair glinting in the light.
"Sorry, sorry. You're just so easy!" He cackles. I scowl and jump down from the tree. Towering over me at 6'3, Jax has to look down at me to talk to me. "But... did you see the look on your face!" He continues laughing. I scoff and lightly hit his upper arm.
"Shut up, you're gonna draw Blackbloods," I remark dryly, starting to make my way back to the camp.
"Aw, c'mon Dia, you know I'm just playin'," he snickers, running up behind me to ruffle my hair. I roll my eyes at the nickname and keep walking. We fall into silence as we walk. The camp isn't far, but I made sure that the salt lick was far enough that any prey wouldn't be able to hear Jax if he was at the camp.
The sun is setting and I have to swat multiple mosquitoes away from me. I hear all other sorts of creepy-crawlies emerging, the buzzing of the mosquitoes, the chirping of crickets. I walk a little faster, knowing I'd never stand a chance against Blackbloods if we are ambushed in the dark.
We finally reach our camp, the coals from the fire barely alive. Jax and I agreed a tent would just have us cornered if we were to be attacked. We only have one sleeping bag, and we take turns sleeping. The other acts as a look out for Blackbloods or even strays or government officials. Jax and I call loners -those without a group to travel with- strays. They can occasionally be dangerous, stealing and sometimes attacking. We have to turn any strays away, as we simply do not have the supplies to provide for them. Any more people in my group would just be another mouth to feed, potentially slowing us down when we are on the move.
"I call sleeping first!" Jax yelled, diving into the sleeping bag. I roll my eyes and shush him.
"You're gonna get us attacked, shut up," I scorn him. I climb a tree, bringing a lantern with me. I hang it from a branch above me and settle against the trunk. For being such a large person, Jax can be incredibly childlike. Or like a small puppy. An annoying puppy. I snort and look down to watch him. Despite his demeanor, he's good to have around. He's stronger than I am and can carry more supplies. Clever, too. Some girls back home, before this all started, might have even said he was handsome. I blow air lightly out of my nose at the thought. Those same girls were probably dead... or worse.