A Volatiles Claim

A Horrible Night

             Sometimes I really wish I would have died during The Fall. Like seriously, I could have died during the chemical bombings, got ran over by a car that was swerving to try and shake off an infected person from the front of the car, or at the very least gotten eaten alive during the chaos at zero hour. Anything could be better than my current situation.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Shit! Move bitch!" I yell, shoving a lone biter off the roof and continue running and leaping from rooftops in the Houndfield district of Old Villedor. The faint splat of its corpse should have brought me some sort of humor like it usually does but it doesn't when another shrill screech echoes behind me.

I don't even want to look back because I know not only will I see the grotesque faces of a few virals but also the leader of the chase, a hulking volatile. I know that this chase will end in one of two ways, with me getting tackled by the alpha of infected and getting brutally pummeled while the virals stand by and watch their leader play with its food; because let's be honest, volatiles are like toddlers who are barely learning how to eat. They end up mostly just tearing into their prey only to just smash their internal organs like a baked potato and just eat the heart and liver then leave the rest for other infected. Honestly, I think they like the hunt more than anything.

The other ending is me miscalculating a step or jump and getting a fist full of karma and ending up like the clueless biter I pushed out of my way. Dead or barely alive on the pitch-black streets below. Heh, oh the irony that would be! No, bad Marc! I mentally chastise myself as I jump and climb onto a higher platform of roofs. I have to stay focused and try to get somewhere safe! Otherwise, this run would have all been a waste, and the survivors would not have any supplies for when they get injured. Think!...

...

...

...

...I got nothing.

This district hasn't been claimed yet, so there aren't any safe zones like windmills or structures like bakeries or schools. Instead, it's all darkness, absent of the familiar violet light from UV lights that keep survivors from adding to the already great population of infected. Speaking of infected, I'm a few minutes away from becoming one myself with my biomarker half red and beeping every so often to let me know that I'm a minute closer to becoming a member of the viral group behind me.... I wonder if that happens, does that mean I'll gain agile parkour skills and traverse the city like a zombie version of Spiderman? Fuck, focus! Wait! If I can't make it to a safe zone, I'll just have to make one!

"Well, it's somewhat better than death or turning to an undead lifestyle of ungodly noises and eating whatever moves," I mumble.

I quickly scan over the upcoming buildings, looking for a balcony with an opening to the inside of its building or a hatch. The howls and growls of the infected grow closer and only worsen my anxiety-driven panic. C'mon, c'mon! There has to be something nearby-! There! I spot a small hut-like structure ahead, an absolute saving grace to those unfortunate to be in situations like mine at night, a nightrunner's hideout. While a few are inside buildings, most hideouts are out in the open, with a generator and two work lights that shine on you and the surrounding area, you have your own temporary safe zone.

"Oh thank fuck!" I gasp out in pure relief before increasing my speed.

As if they could sense my plan, the infected behind me begin to screech at each other as if they are telling one another to hurry up and stop their food from becoming unobtainable. A deep growl from the volatile instantly silences them and I hear its thundering footsteps slow down ever so slightly... is that- shit! It's planning to jump and try to tackle me! I know this because I once saw one do this same tactic on one of my friends a few months back. Before it tackled them to the ground, it made a slow cranking noise, like a metal spring tightening before it springs into the air.