I was commissioned to Area 0 because of my medical background in the military. The Area is located in the north, mountains rising on each border to provide a natural hindrance to those trying to escape. We’ve been here for over a year now, and there’s not that many contaminated ones left. Once in a while we come across healthy ones, but they refuse to leave the sick behind. That’s when we have to shoot them both. It’s amazing how long some have survived out there, with no electricity or food deliveries. The days are quiet, mostly spent in the car, driving around empty neighborhoods. The windows and doorways are covered with thick plastic, I can hear the wind trying to tear them violently.

After our round, I go to have my blood tested. We haven’t encountered anyone this time, but we’re still testing, every time, every round. At first it was terrifying, waiting to see if my blood had been contaminated or not. Soon we got new information about the virus: it only transitioned if the contaminated blood touched your skin. This time too, my blood comes out clean. It’s still a relief.

Before the next round, I do a routine check on my gun. We use electrical bullets to prevent the contaminated from bleeding. One bullet is for slowing them down, and two is enough for an electrical shock to make the heart stop. Three if it’s someone with heavier body weight.

We’ve gotten intel that there’s been movement around the beach. I don’t understand it, the lake there doesn’t lead to anywhere. Who would try to escape that way? Either the remaining ones have gotten more desperate, or they know something we don’t.

As we quietly arrive to the beach, we see a group of seven carrying a boat to the water. We surround them from both sides. My parter shoots first, which makes the man closest to me drop the boat and start running towards me. That means only one thing: two shots. Third for him looking so scared. As the man falls on his knees in front of me, I see my partner aim his gun at a six-year-old girl. He notices she’s bleeding from the nose and eyes. That means only one thing: one bullet. For her, one is enough.

We carefully collect the bodies for extermination, and load them up in our car. I can smell the fear, even when they’re dead.

I walk my usual route to my assigned home. I walk inside, through the apartment to the back door, and out again. I continue over the field, through the woods, to a neighborhood that’s been quiet for a long time. I walk to an apartment building, take the stairs to the seventh floor, open the seven locks, and step in. Inside, reading books as usual, is my little brother. Or as I would put it professionally: a contaminated one. He lifts his eyes to greet me with a smile.