It was surprisingly quiet. When I'd envisioned my great escape, I'd pictured cops running after me, alarms ringing, engines revving. But just like inside the prison, it was nearly silent. There were a few birds chirping and leaves rustling, but otherwise, that was it.

I frown, glancing around. It looked like it had just rained, water dripping off the oak trees in front of the prison, and the drab pavement still damp. I was starting to get suspicious, and perhaps a little on edge. I decide to check the perimeter, thinking that there might be some sign of human life outside at the very least.

I start to walk, my worn sneakers making small indents in the sodden ground. I run my hands along the scratchy brick wall, the smell of wet earth in my nose. I turn a couple corners, starting to get a little bored. 

Had they all just taken a free day? Was there some massive hurricane or storm that I don't know about?

I turn my head every now and then, glancing at the sodden grass, dull brick prison walls, and the tall pine trees that stood like bodyguards at the edge of the prison. After I'd been looking for a few minutes, I squint my eyes, scanning the chain link fence that surrounded the entirety of the property. There was a figure standing there, leaning against a fence post.

I frown, cautiously taking a few steps forward. I could tell that it was a man, leaning against the fence almost as if he was in a trance. He wore baggy and ripped clothes, reminding me of some of the people I'd gone to school with. As I got closer, I could tell something was wrong. The man looked sickly, with a pale face and cheeks so thin I could see the bones poking through. His hair was messy, and a stench came from him unlike anything I've smelled before. It reminded me of when I was in middle school, when the boys all came back from tackling each other during football, and they didn't use deodorant after they'd finished. Vile.

Wrinkling my nose, I carefully creep past the chain link fence, only about 10 feet away now. The man didn't move, his chest rising and falling rather slowly. His breathing sounded so labored and wheezing, it was surprising he was breathing at all. I shake my head, losing my nerve. Whatever this man had, I didn't want to catch.

I turn on my heels, running to the other side of the prison. In the distance, I could see another man, this time in a guard's uniform. His shirt looked stained, and as I got closer, the man was also slightly bent over, like the one I'd seen before. I didn't catch that stench, however, and while he didn't look exactly healthy, he didn't seem inches from death like the other man.

I creep a little closer, being as quiet as possible. The man had a gun, after all. I could see its handle poking out of his side holster. The man remained in his slightly slumped position, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes. Was he asleep, standing up? I continue to edge closer, my curiosity getting the better of me.

When I am around 10 feet away, the man straightens, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. He eyes me, and a guttural snarl erupts from his throat. I freeze. That wasn't a noise I would expect to hear from a prison guard.

Before I have time to blink, the man charges forward, covering the distance between us. He looked crazed, his teeth bared in a snarl, his hands covered in crusted, flaking blood. I jump back in surprise, digging my hand into my back pocket.

Wait. These aren't the clothes I wore before my arrest. My faithful knife is back in the prison, probably in some drawer somewhere.

Well shit.

The man continues his crazed charged, and like anyone would, I turn and bolt down the sidewalk. My shoes pound down the concrete , and I see the entrance to the prison. I hear the man snarling like a rabid animal behind me, and when I feel his sharp nails against my arm, I push myself to sprint faster, until I'm feet from the door.

I reach for the door handle, throwing it open, and slamming it shut with as much force as I can muster. I brace my body against it, doing everything I can not to let that man in. I feel the door thud every couple seconds, a noise made by the person on the other side, trying everything he can to get to me.

Holding it shut with one side of my body, I reach for one of the iron chairs that are leaned against the wall of the waiting room. I pull one forwards, shoving it against the doors in a make shift barricade. I grab a few more, shoving them up against it as well, and once that is done, I drop a couple miscellaneous heavy objects that I could find in the receptionist office and desks.

My chest heaves up and down, and I sink to the ground, still hearing the man growling on the other side. The adrenaline was fading, and my arms and legs felt sore from my frantic running spree.

What the hell was up with that guard? He looked rabid.

I force myself up. If that crazy managed to get in, I didn't want to be near these doors. I walk over to the guards offices. I needed a weapon, now that I was free. I shuffle through the drawers of contraband and stolen items, eventually finding what I need.

My daggers. Each of various size, with different types of blades for certain purposes. I lay them out on the table, going to search for my clothes next. I follow the signs, heading to where they'd told me to put my clothes when I'd first got here. I open the drawers, each alphabetically sorted, until I find the bag with my belongings. I pull it out, heading to the small bathroom off to the side.

I change out of my prison uniform, pull my hoodie over my head, and try the taps on the sink. I hadn't been able to spend as much time as I wanted doing anything for 12 long months, and I planned on fixing that. Unfortunately, only cold water dripped out of the faucets, but I washed my face and hands nonetheless.

I look in the mirror, surprised at my reflection. I'd been too angry or too upset to do much of anything, and this was the first time I'd really looked at myself in a while. My black hair had gotten too long, it was almost down to my shoulders. My skin was pale, and I had dark circles under my eyes. I gripped the edge of the sink. I looked terrible. 

I frowned, and a couple thoughts came to my head.

One, I remembered the guards talking about some sort of virus a few weeks back, and one of them joking how we'd better be careful, or there'd be a 'zombie apocalypse.'

Zombie Apocalypse.

That was it. The crazed man, the dead-looking teenager, the empty prison, the power outage. Had an apocalypse started, and no one has bothered to say anything? Had they figured that I was going to be dead anyway, so I might as well just rot alone?

I frowned, that last thought sparking another. My employer. The one who'd gotten me trapped in here to begin with. I was free, in a world with potentially no laws. I could go after him, and no one would be able to stop me.

I smile comes to my lips, and I turn on my heels, and scoop my knives off the tabletop. I tuck them into their respective pockets, and head to one of the other exits.

If I tracked well, and remembered my training, my employer would be dead in a month's time.