Here I sit in my chair, testing under secret military precautions on human subjects, when one day two chemicals mixed. Things went wrong and area 51's pets broke out of the lab. I survived because of my handgun, and made it out alive but the disease spread fast. They looked like corpses with hardened, black nails on both their fingers and toes; ugly beasts could spread the disease almost instantly. With faces moulded into some sort of squashed pizza and jaws that hung off, they grunted in misery almost as if wanting to be killed. A disgruntled war cry caught one's attention... As they gained on me, a broad sword pierced through its stomach, giving me just enough time to scramble away before I was infected. A friend was surrounded, glued by either fear or awe, he fought many of the infected, including, a few animals but mostly humans. Unfortunate and helpless , I watched, as one of the infected sank its claws deep into his gut. He screamed, then in seconds, collapsed onto the sandy, claret-covered, bloodstained ground. They swarmed around him, blocking my macabre view. Nametags, blood, mutilated bodies and an infinitely immense amount of guts is all that surrounded me now. That, and an abandoned plane with low fuel. A man beckoned me towards it and started up the engine, he yanked me onto the ruined plane (not that luxury meant anything to me then); rusty and full of cobwebs, torn leather seats, a radio with nothing but static and a propeller spluttering smoke. I had a feeling of déjà-vu that I'd seen this pilot being bitten but my mind could've been playing tricks on me.
