The restaurant is a large, open-plan building with shiny wooden floors and an extensive balcony that looks out on the green hills above the Lagoon. The restaurant is empty. It has an eerie feel about it. There are broken plates on the floor and dried patches of blood on several of the table cloths.
You take a deep breath and look around for a good hiding spot before heading towards the kitchen. As you approach you hear a clank from the backroom and you spin around. There are also footsteps near the entrance. The gardener is right on your tail.
You dive under one of the tables. Unfortunately, you bump a chair and it tips over right as the gardener enters. He sees the chair and scuttles over. From the kitchen an infected chef makes his way to the table too. Your heart pounds.
You look for something to fight with. Anything. There’s a knife and fork, but they’re out of your reach, so you use your legs. You kick at the gardener with on leg and the chef with the other. You scurry underneath another table hoping to lose them, but in your frantic retreat you trip over a chair and into a second table. In your haste you didn’t see that this table was right against the wall. You’re trapped.
Unless you can reach the knife. It’s closer now. You reach, snag, then wrap your fingers around the cold steel hilt. The chef, not a metre from you, lets out an almighty sneeze. You drop the knife and cup both hands over your mouth, trying not to breathe. All of a sudden the gardener drops to the ground and crawls under the table. You kick him in the face but it only seems to spur him on. He claws at your leg opening up three, bloody scratches. The chef sneezes again, flecks of snot hit your lips. Your heart drops. Blood and breath? There’s no coming back from this, even if you could get away from this stupid table. It’s all over.
You’ve been standing in shock for so long the infected have lost interest in you. You pull out your phone to call your mother but the screen is shattered from the struggle. You let the tears flow. You always imagined you would go out in a parachuting accident or from eating the world’s hottest chilli. Not like this, not to a pathogen! How embarrassing. You’re infected. Doomed to forever roam the Botanic Gardens following every bird or reptile that moves, doomed to infect every living creature you see until you die. But it’s not just you that will pay the ultimate price. Without a cure all of Brisbane will pay, perhaps the world.
We hope you enjoyed your adventure! Why not go back to the start and see what you happen if you chose a different path? Until then, share your photos of your cure with us via Facebook by tagging your post #StoryCity.