Story #27: The Bag

The Bag

My name is John Smith. I’m at the airport. I’ve been here many times for business trips

and family vacations. That’s all gone now. I lost my job, and I am the only member of

my family left. I’m just looking for a good place to find work and earn enough money to

support myself. Although I haven’t ate in a day and a half, I suppose some airplane

peanuts are going to have to be enough until I can find something to eat that will

actually fulfill my hunger. I’m waiting for my flight to be called, when a person carrying

a briefcase that I have never seen before approaches me.

“John Smith.” the stranger said my name as if he were a close friend of mine.

“How do you know my name?” I asked the stranger.

“I’ve been looking for the perfect person for a favor I need done, and I know that you

are him.”

“Why would I do anything for a complete stranger? I don’t owe you anything.” I replied,

a slight bit annoyed. The stranger pulled out his briefcase and laid it in my lap. I

regarded it with curiosity, and I cautiously opened the case. Inside, I see piles of 100

dollar bills.

“Should this be enough to get you to do me a favor?” the stranger asked. I could

survive for years on that much money. Thinking about all the food and luxury I could

have from that money makes my mouth water.

“I’ll do your favor.” I reply.

“Good, good. Listen closely to what I’m saying. I need you to carry this onto the plane,

and put it in a secluded spot.” He pulls a duffel bag out of his overcoat that he is

wearing and hands it to me. I’m so awestruck over the money that I don’t think about

what could be in the bag. He turns and takes his leave, while I hear something on the

loudspeaker.

“Flight 92. Flight 92 report to the bridge.” I gather my things and get onto the plane. I

look around for my seat. D10... D10.... ahh, here it is. I sit down, no one next to me. I

prefer it that way anyways. I’ve always been a loner. Halfway through the flight, I fake

going to the bathroom to hide the bag. I return to my seat and don’t think twice about

what could be in the bag, not knowing what I had just done.

Months later

I remember how this all started. A couple freak stories on the news of people eating

people’s pets were first, then came the stories of cannibalism that were oh so frequent.

The cause is a virus that they can only assume was released by an airborne terrorist

attack, or so they say. I know what really happened, and I am the cause of this virus. I

think back about taking the offer and I curse myself for being so stupid. I’ve been

locked in my house for 5 days now. I can hear so many people knocking on my door

for refuge, only for them to be answered by silence. I watch through the door as they

are attacked by the virus carriers, and killed. I know that somehow I have not caught

the disease, or maybe I have the disease but I just don’t have the same symptoms.

Either way, I’m going to die in this house.

Day 6: When I woke up today, I noticed that there was a small duffel bag on my

counter. I went over to it and peeked inside, and found a strange vial of liquid and a

note. I picked up the note.

“This is the only cure for the virus. Do what you will with it.” Was it really the cure? If it

is, I wonder what I could do with it! I could sell it to make even more money! I could

drink it, then wait this out until it dies down, and then be the leader the rises from the

ashes of civilization! I could rule what world left there was, and I could have everything

I wanted. I think I’ll sleep on it, then decide what to do in the morning.

Day 7: I was barely able to get any sleep due to the screaming outside of my house,

and it shows. I walk over to the mirror and I have bags under my eyes, and I feel like I

just got run over by a bus. I look over and see the cure and the note. I take one look at

it, run over and drink it all in one gulp. I don’t feel any different, but I don’t know what I

was expecting. I hear someone outside trying to break into my house. They have a

shotgun and they are shooting repeatedly at the handle of the door. I try to hide, but it’s

no use, they made it in.

“Well well well, look what we have here!” the stranger says. He’s pointing the shotgun

at my head, and I can’t do much but to notice how bad it is outside when I see past him

into the doorway. Cars are burning, people are running around the street chasing other

people, a few people are lying on the ground, either dead or dying. I wish I hadn’t

taken that deal on the plane.

The stranger continues, “I’m from the house across the street from you. I’ve seen

people come up to your door and you just ignore them and let them die at the hands of

those things.”

I reply, “I had no choice, if I let them in, the things would get in as well.”

The stranger doesn’t seem very assured by my answer. He takes a deep breath then

cocks his gun.

“You are going to pay for letting those people die.” He pauses, then continues, “I will

kill you.” I close my eyes, ready to accept my fate. I hear a scream, and turn around. I

can’t believe what I am seeing. I see two people eating the stranger who was just

going to kill me. I scream, and they look up and leap on me. It’s all black after that.