Outbreak: The Extinction Chronicles

Chapter 1 Border Patrol

High upon a broad tree branch, I stealthily perched. Its ancient moss blended perfectly with my olive camouflage pants. I recalled having acquainted with this tree a few years back, when I was still new in this meandering forest. And as soon as I discovered the amazing panorama on its top, it easily became my favorite vantage point in this part of the woods.

Soon, I took my binoculars that hung around my neck, and began scanning the whole of the forest.

Nothing new, I thought to myself; not until I noticed unusual movements not far.

What in the world are you doing in here? I asked myself as I spotted three infected standing half-obscured under the dark thick bushes.

They were standing close to one another, as if mingling without words with parts of their skin barely touching each other, while they shiver, twitch or God-knows what else they were doing.

Quietly, I reached for my bow slung on my shoulder, then fetched an arrow from the quiver around my back. The bow in my firm grip felt weightless in my hand.

This thing became my weapon of choice ever since I got ahold of it in one of our scavenging runs years ago. I had no second thoughts of grabbing it inside one of the sports equipments shop at the nearest town. Tried and tested, this weapon's silent kills would never lose their edge as one of the best tactics out here.

Before long, I nocked an arrow and slowly drew it back. I heaved one deep breath as I felt the bowstring stretched with power.

It was unusual that the infected would go this far under broad daylight. For all we knew, they were nocturnal; the hunters of the night. And their prey? Any living creature not of their own kind.

Human flesh might have been scarce for them lately, that they became desperate enough to earn their food under the scorching sun. Now I was beginning to wonder, if they too could also starve to death. Well, not that it mattered for these three, for they would soon be dealt with.

No hard feelings you creeps, I told myself. Just doing my job.

Right then, a silent twang rang my bow as I released my grip at the arrow. It flew gracefully amongst the woods, sweeping past the woodland leaves and thickets. And sure enough, like a bolt of lightning, it pierced the head of an infected, who immediately fell lifeless upon the grassy land.

Bull's eye. A shot in the head meant swift death for anyone, even for them.

The other two, seemingly baffled at what just happened, searched for their attacker in a franticly terrifying motion. They growled, hissed and jerked looking high and low for me... but no. They wouldn't find me - not this far up.

Fortunately, their senses remained unchanged at all, not for a tiny bit even after they had turned. Still human, Doc said, but savage and knows no fear. Primeval instincts had replaced their once civilized minds.

And like normal humans, they too could feel heat and cold, and pain and pressure; but they had extreme tolerance to all of them. It was their biggest advantage.

I could imagine an infected standing up again even after getting shot at, or having sprayed with bullets. It just wouldn't give up. It would continue to move and bite until its body ceased to support movement, or... until it was dead.

Shortly thereafter, with my eyes hooked upon the other infected, I let loose another arrow. It tore down the high brushes and straight through the undergrowth. Its quick flight took no more than a mere second, before it sank deep into the chest of the infected. The hideous creature fell down, but swiftly stood up like nothing happened.

Well, that wasn't so surprising, I thought.

Soon, blood started to gush out of his chest, until a while later, the inevitable happened. He fell on his knees and slumped to the ground face first.

That shot was a clean hit to the lungs, not a headshot but with the same aftermath - death, a slow and painful kind of death.

After that, however, the last remaining infected managed to pinpoint my exact location. It wasted no time dashing swiftly amongst the shrubs, rushing furiously towards my position.

I admit, I had always been afraid whenever faced with these vile creatures. Not only because they were once friends, family, or acquaintance, but mainly because one bite was all I ever needed to determine my fate - either must I end my life quick, or be one of them, or the worst, suffer a slow and agonizing death. I swear I would rather shoot myself than consciously feel my flesh being torn and ripped apart from my body.

Just the mere thought of it sent shivers down my spine. A small amount of fear was actually good, for it sharpened the senses and trained the mind. So I gasped for another breath, this one to calm me down.

Then swiftly, I clutched my bow at the ready, with a drawn arrow in my hand. I was skillfully aiming at my mark, who was now running in zigzag amongst the trees and the forest brush.

How do they know when to move like that? I mused.

The next shot would mean victory or screwville. Either way, it was unlikely for him to climb up this tree that fast. Not to mention, I still had ninety-nine ways of disposing him.

With only a few seconds left before the infected arrived, I began to focus more, trying to predict his every movement.

Should I advance my shot a little bit, or go straight?

I cleared my head and recalled everything I had learned. There wasn't a single day in my new life that I had not trained for this kind of scenario. It wasn't easy, but never too hard.

Archery is like an art. Like a brushstroke of a painter, or the strumming of a guitarist, an archer draws his arrow with the right power, focus and timing, while sensing all that can be felt - the wind, the heartbeat, and the breathing, all for the purpose of hitting the target, like a musician hitting the right notes. Other than that...

"Practice makes perfect."

Next thing I knew, my arrow whizzed as I sent it gliding through the air. It was that one precise moment that separated the hit from the miss. Then... my eyes smiled; for I knew, it wasn't the latter.

The thud of my arrow, as it skewered the infected's neck, sounded music to my ears.

Nice try, freak, I told myself as I slung my bow back to my shoulder.

Patrol mission accomplished. It was time to go; but before that, I needed to fetch my arrows back.

It was one of our most basic survival rules: Never waste ammunition. Because they're either too damn hard to craft, or too damn hard to find.

It was also one of the main reasons why I loved my bow. I could just get my arrows back from where it landed.

With a few hours of light remaining, I knew I ought to hurry and get my ass back to base.

We never called them zombies, not even before. From what I've learned, zombies were undead, which was more likely a myth. I have killed more than a dozen infected, and almost all of them died of bleeding. And they stayed dead until they rot and become food for the worms.

These flesh-eating monsters we encountered everyday, we just called them "the infected"; because they were, literally, people inflicted with the disease. Yes they were humans, not until they turned into cold fearless cannibals. They were the result of men's own doing years ago, when a weaponized virus had been unleashed amidst the world war.

Doc mentioned that, after a few hours of infection, a man contracted with "the virus" would start showing signs of fever and body weakness. After a day or two, he would go through a deep coma as the virus penetrated his blood-brain barrier. Then it would start colonizing the whole of his brain, gradually erasing all the memories of his life, including the last piece of his humanity. What would only be left were plain animal instincts. Then he would wake up, his stare glaring and his mouth drooling with unexplainable hunger; and he would start doing the only thing that mattered for him - to feed and live. Sadly, we - the surviving humans and all the fauna on this dying planet, or what's left of it, were the prey, now the ones at the bottom of the food chain.

This was the newest cycle of life that dawned our new age. Those whom were bitten, but slipped away from the jaws of the infected, would never escape the clutches of the disease. In as short as three days they would turn, and their lust for human flesh would begin.