Theory XXI

Chapter 5 - Stalked

The figure fell to the floor, holding his stomach. Blood was dripping out of his hands. I couldn’t believe I had just killed someone. I felt guilty, but this is how life worked now. Dogs eat dogs in this world, and there was nothing I could do to change that. The figure I had shot was the man who kidnapped me, but I could’ve guessed that easily. It still scares me to think that people would shun the idea of working together and be greedy enough to take a man’s life away so you can prosper. I will never become that person.

I look back down at the body. Although I hated the idea, I had to be a scavenger. He was already dead. I couldn’t revive him no matter how hard I tried. Wait, wasn’t he shooting at me while I ran down the street? He must have had a weapon of some sort. I lift up the left side of his unzipped jacket. Underneath is a sniper rifle. The relief I felt from seeing this weapon made me cry with joy! I could overlook the city and take out any infected figures before travelling in that direction! There was already a few bullets left in the weapon, but he had to have more somewhere. I checked his outside jacket pockets. I found a couple more coins in there. There was an inside pocket too but I couldn’t reach it. The man’s body was lying on top of it, sealing it closed. I turned the man over and removed his jacket. I reach inside the pocket. He had a knife and sniper bullets.  The knife reminded me of the crowbar I got from the military truck. Where did I put that? Did I leave it at the store while I was eating? It didn’t matter now anyways. A knife would’ve been more effective. I keep searching the man. In his pants pocket I found a small journal that was small enough to fit in his pockets. I started reading the journal. It reads:

I found my next victim; a young adult around the age of twenty. He has straight brown hair. He has tan skin, and he looks like he is of Italian descent. He looks confused and lost. I need to attract him to the store so I can capture him, kill him and eat his corpse, just like every other. I placed a couple bags of chips in the store, so if he is smart, he will go there. It’s turning dark. He starts climbing up a hill.  He just reached the top. He looks frightened. An infected lurker is now attacking him. It looks like a Grappler, the type of infected with super-adhesive hands. If it sticks to him long enough, it will become part of his flesh. It grabbed his leg and he tripped. He kicks the Grappler off and removes the remaining arm from his leg. The man is infected now. I better catch him quick before he turns into one of them. He’s asleep now. I’ll take this opportunity to light a fire to attract him to the store in the morning.

The note was beyond creepy. This man has been stalking me for two days, and for what? To eat me?! I didn’t realize until now that people were resorting to cannibalism to survive. And what did he say about me being infected? Was that true? Will I soon become one of those figures? I cringed at the thought. I didn’t want to live as one of those things. I wanted to survive. I really hope he was mistaken. He mentioned something about there being different kinds of infected. He called the figure that grabbed me on the hill a Grappler. I decided I wanted to name the different infected I encountered based on their special abilities. What about the one that looked like a human from behind, and used its human like appearance to attract its prey? That should be called a Disguiser, no, a Surpriser. No! A Cloaker! Yeah! That’s what I’ll call those things. But what about the one that pierced my ears from a mile away? Maybe a Screecher? Yeah I liked that name. Now that that’s settled, the man in the note talked about how the Grappler morphs into your skin if they are attached to you too long. Is that why it was so hard to rip of my flesh? I was unsure if this was a plague or a curse. I guess it could be either, but in order to understand how things really work, I have to find out sooner or later.

I was starving for information. I wanted to understand the problems in the world. Was it only New York that is infected, or is it the whole world? I had a handprint of the Grappler torn out of my skin. It was definitely going to leave a scar. If I ever ended up getting somewhere civilized and safe, they would all think I’m infected anyways. I start to look for anything I could scavenge. I see a newspaper vending box down the street. I walk over to it. I look at the newspaper title. “Infection Affects The Entire United States.” This is exactly what I needed! It needs a quarter. I reach in my pocket, pull out the coins and insert two dimes and a nickel into the machine. It unlocks. I pull the handle and grab a newspaper. I begin to read a section about the infection:

The Nuclear Infection made its way to the West Coast. Civilization everywhere has been destroyed. Infected survivors reportedly have thrown up acid to get through doors and feed on the remaining survivors. Italy has offered a Survivor Protection Program, or SPP. It claims that any survivors willing to make their way to Italy safely will be offered a roof over their head, food on their table, and safety from the infected. Currently, no sign of infected survivors have been reported in Italy. Most of North America and parts of Central America are the only known locations containing any infected. Survivors who can make their way to Italy will live in the SPP facility until they can land on their feet.

Published August 14, 2024

I remember that date from the note by the late Kim Smith at the kidnapper’s house. How could I ever make it to Italy? I’d have to meet a very generous ship-owner or pilot. I could swim there… no, bad idea. I rip out all the ads, which was about 80% of the entire paper, and threw them away. The rest of the paper I carefully folded it up and slipped it in the pocket of my hoodie. That reminds me. I never explained what I was wearing. I am wearing a red hoodie and black jeans. My shoes are black and white converse. According to the note from the man who kidnapped me, I have straight brown hair. But that’s beside the point. What I look like doesn’t matter more than my life.

I saw a figure sprinting really fast between buildings. Judging by the gun in its hand, it was human. It was armed. It was a threat. If it got any closer, I had to shoot it. It started to run faster. Suddenly it slowed down and kneeled down to pick something up off the road. This was the only moment I could use to take a shot. It could notice me and shoot me on sight. I pull out my rifle and look down the scope. It bothered me to realize that the thing on the other end of your rifle was a human. This shot would change who I am. It would change how I would characterize myself. With that out of mind, I fired.

The figure fell, and dropped the weapon in its hand. I walked over to it. It was an older man, about 30 years or so. I hope he doesn’t have children. This would be devastating for them to find. The weapon was a machine gun. It had a strap that was hooked over his shoulder. I detached it from the gun and put in on my rifle. Now I didn’t have to carry it around in my hand anymore. He had a couple granola bars in his pocket that I ate instantly. I can’t believe I just shot him. I’m a bandit now. That’s how I will always look at myself. Though it was really sad, it gave me some sort of pleasure. No! What am I saying! That was cruel! It wasn’t fun to do in any way possible. I felt good afterwards only because I lost the sense of paranoia that he was going to find me and shoot me. That’s the only thing good that came out of this situation. But my karma awaits. The smell of death attracted a mob of the infected. I turned in all directions. I was surrounded.