infectents Edited

Moronic blunder

Hruday freaked out as he realized it was someone else's blood. The metallic taste filled his mouth, making him gag. He screamed, "Aahh... shit!" and kept cursing while looking back. His panic stopped when he shoved a zombie's mouth into his arm. "Eat, eat, you f*ck," he shouted, pushing and kicking the zombie away. "F*cking hell, stop clenching on me," he yelled as he finally freed himself. The cold, clammy feel of the zombie's teeth against his skin made his stomach churn.

Michael had a similar struggle, while Roy, luckily intact, managed to stay near the compound despite the helicopter crash nearby. The collision was so powerful that it killed some zombies. The stench of burning flesh mingled with the acrid smell of smoke. The wind carried the scent of death, making their eyes water.

Reaching the big 7-foot wall, they all tried to climb simultaneously. Roy helped Michael, his eyes wet, holding back tears that threatened to spill over. Hruday shouted, "Why the f*ck are you following us?" He was addressing skinny Tory, who ignored him. After Michael climbed, everyone else followed.

"Where's John?" Michael asked urgently, his voice trembling with worry.

"He went that way," Roy said, pointing in the direction. His voice was heavy with suppressed emotion, almost breaking. His mind raced with fear for John, guilt gnawing at him.

"Shit! I'm worried, man," Michael responded, feeling his heart race.

Roy, his voice thick with emotion, said, "Don't worry. I looked back. He ran safely. There were only a few zombies." He couldn't hold back his tears any longer and cried while standing on the wall.

Hruday, noticing something in the distance, asked, "What happened, Roy? Did you get bitten?" His voice was laced with anxiety.

Roy, his voice a blend of hatred and sorrow, snapped, "Didn't I tell you not to say such things? You have a black tongue. Look at this, losing loved ones."

Hruday tried to calm him down: "Don't worry about your parents right now. I'm sure they are alive. Let's be positive and survive."

Troy, looking around, said, "Guys, we should run now. There are a couple of zombies coming towards us." His voice was edged with panic, and his mind was filled with images of his family in danger.

"Shit, run!" Roy shouted, his voice filled with urgency.

They circled the hospital garden and the doctor's houses, shaking off the pursuing zombies. Finally, they stopped, noticing Michael's bag clanking.

"Hey, dumbass, why did you carry everything?" Roy asked, frustrated, his breath coming in short gasps.

Hruday tried to calm him: "Ahh, well, you know that's for good. Michael, did you bring old coins to brag about?" He forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Seeing this, Roy sighed and took a few deep breaths. Michael, nervously silent, nodded.

Roy understood the idea and asked, "Did you bring that metal geometric box too?" His tone was sharp.

"What!" Michael responded gloomily, understanding their intentions. "Should I use it now?"

"No, just use your notebooks to cover them and make sure I don't hear that clanking sound again," Roy instructed, his voice stern.

Michael didn't understand why Roy was so irritated, but his thoughts halted as he saw Tory.

A hand gripped Tory's shoulder, and he screamed, "Wohh f*ck!" A doctor, holding his shoulder tightly, said, "Shit! Shut up, kid."

Hruday quickly made a fist and reached for his backpack to take out the wooden leg, only to find that Roy had already taken it. The doctor, with bite marks everywhere, said, "Help me escape, or I'll scream." He held his arm around Tory's neck tightly. The doctor's breath reeked of blood and decay. Hruday kicked the doctor as Roy made him fall, causing Tory to lose his grip. The doctor, now angry and coughing, looked at them with hatred. Roy, hit hard with a broken wooden leg, bled from a gash on his arm, the wound looking gory; his arm was visibly broken. Hruday was surprised by Roy's strength.

The doctor, his eyes red, looked at his hands in surprise and said, "Why do I not feel anything?" As he withdrew his hand, everyone ran towards the compound that led to the road. Hruday thought most zombies would be near the hospital, but they were also near the houses. It was spreading.

They hid in a bush near the compound and noticed a few people in a saloon waving at them. Calculating how to reach the saloon, they saw a free crossroad, but zombies were beside it. They had to run diagonally as quickly as possible.

Jumping and running with all their might, they reached the shop, only to find the glass door locked. Zombies were ready to jump on them. Roy quickly pulled the metal shutter down, but as zombies banged against it, the saloon door didn't open. They were suspicious of the blood and bite marks on their bodies.

Hruday thought, "I should have hidden behind everyone."

He stepped up, "I am not bitten. This is someone else's blood from the helicopter crash." He opened his shirt to show his paper armor, which had no visible bite marks. Everyone followed suit, and, still suspicious, they let them in.

"Ahh, hey, Hruday, how are you?" The saloon owner asked awkwardly, his voice wavering.

"I'm doing great, as you can see," Hruday replied dryly, trying to keep his voice steady.

Sujay, the saloon owner, said with a small pause, "I knew you would survive. You convinced me to buy a 70 rupee fighter fish for 250 rupees, calling it a beta fish."

Roy, knowing his intentions, added, "He even sold it to you."

After talking and distracting themselves, the screams brought them back to reality. Silence hung heavily in the air.

Hruday broke it: "Stop this shit." He knew comfort would lead to sorrow and depression. Action and more chaos were his cures for depression.

In the awkward silence, he thought indifferently, controlling his labored breathing. He felt alive in this crisis, unlike his previous depression from isolation and frustration.

He gathered his thoughts and said aloud, "This is dangerous; we shouldn't stay here any longer."

Everyone, including the saloon owner and his workers, looked at him, surprised.

"There is no way rescue is coming. Even if they do, they'll first establish a foothold in apartments. Here, we'll be trapped. We don't know much about these zombies, but I guess they get worse over time. At least now they seem to move in waves, leaving some behind. If we don't move now, we'll be stuck."

The saloon owner said, "No, that's the worst thing you could do. We don't know anything about them; they might die or become less powerful."

"Yeah, staying here is logical and safe," Michael added, his voice tinged with doubt.

Hruday took a deep breath and argued, "You're right. But what if the virus spreads to animals? Will we survive? Imagine zombies controlling infected dogs and crows. We need to escape now before it gets worse."

Everyone was awed; their worst fears were visualized.

Hruday continued, "Even if that didn't happen, the army wouldn't clear every street; they would establish treatment bases and rescue large groups, not individuals."

Roy, realizing the urgency, said, "So we need to escape now and reach a safe place."

"It's dangerous," Troy said, his voice shaking.

"Yes, but staying here only delays the inevitable doom. Do we want to live in fear for a few days or risk it for the future?" Hruday replied, his voice steady and determined.

The saloon owner, seeing Hruday's logic, agreed. "He has a point. We might need to hotwire a car, but we can't stay here."

Hruday said, "We can make weapons and use the air conditioner to get to the upper side. My house is the nearest, and I know a safe way to get in."

Tory and Michael were shocked by his plan and initiative. Usually less talkative and avoiding leadership tasks, Hruday's sudden assertiveness surprised them.

The saloon owner said, "Sorry, we can't come. We have a van. Why don't you go to our house? My family is waiting. We have a year's worth of food. We own a general store."

Hruday found it difficult to answer.
ahhh!(shit!)