K-6 virus they set their crosshairs on us. We were only soldiers in a trench trying to finish off a bottle of whiskey before the enemy stormed us faster than Blitzkrieg. After the virus wiped out every major city, the survivors banded together in warehouses and tried to keep playing their games to keep from going insane. Keep dancing and stay out of site. We raved all night and slept during the day. The problem was that we weren’t wearing gas masks. We weren’t barcoded wristbands either. If you had a wristband though, you didn’t have much better living conditions than the ravers. The only difference was that you were completely sober and half insane. I couldn’t hear the K-6 team inside the warehouse, but I knew they would be after me faster than a necrophiliac in a morgue and bust out of every door to find me. My entire body shook violently as I crawled on my hands and knees. Three feet is as far as I made it before my organs started to shut down. I pulled myself into the fetal position and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at the rotting dog carcass next to me. The warehouse I managed to walk out of looked like Jones Town if the victims had a drop of GHB in their Kool-Aid and were forced to hold glow sticks. My vision started to leave me and I thought about the blonde that I danced with just minutes before back in the night club and how her highlights looked when they glowed under a row of black light fixtures. She was truly the Bob Ross of raving; she started slow but wielded the most divine painting in the air from the streamers of her glow sticks. The last thing that my memory served me was eating acid jello squares like candy before getting lost in the crowd of dancing people. The girl with the highlights had been feeding them to me and an hour later she had looked more like a demon to me under the flashing lights. A DJ named Bassnectar was playing
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