Eyes of the infected ✔ [COMPLETED]

Chapter nineteen

I stood, knowing I didn’t stand a chance if I stayed put. They’d speed up soon - they were incredibly fast - almost supernaturally so, like humans who had endless stamina, humans who were not humans. People would kill to be in our shoes, have such knowledge of these creatures without actually having any understanding or knowledge. I’d kill to be out of my shoes, be a part of some parallel universe where things from movies stayed in movies.
I moved sluggishly, aware that the creatures behind me were kicking themselves into action. I wondered if they could ever starve; when had they last eaten? If they got to me, it would fuel them for another few days I imagined. The thought made me feel physically sick and I retched as I moved, wishing I hadn’t touched those cornflakes earlier, wishing a whole lot of things.

Houses loomed up ahead but they were London-style terraced houses in the depths of Scotland, with stairs moving up towards their entrance. I wasn’t going to take my chances, if I reached the top of the conrete and found the doors locked, I would be trapped and easy prey. On the journey to where I stood now, I vaguely recalled seeing a pub after I completely zoned out and my feet went autopilot and moved me here. Wasting no time after a glance at the infected who were clawing at the air and starting to move towards me, I moved into an increasingly painful sprint in the direction I had come from, tiring quickly as physical and emotional exhaustion tried to take me down. I was neither surprised nor taken aback to see the bar in my field of vision after a short while, I was slowly learning to trust what my unconscious remembered, it was funny how your brain could understand danger and throw you a rope every now and then. What I did feel though, which surprised me, was relief. At least I’d be away from these monsters who were hissing behind me - but then what?

The door got closer, a large rectangle piece of wood which looked more expensive than anything I’d ever owned. It appeared to be sturdy which was all that mattered and as I ignored my senses and turned to look behind me, I had to remind myself not to scream at them to leave me alone. A man had pulled to the front of the pack which eyes which seemed emptier than the rest. He was a few metres behind me and was wearing a police outfit which had large holes in where his flesh spilled out in disgusting chunks and gashed with a deep red-black colour which left evidence of him as he ran. His hair was matted to his face, masses of it - I was sure somebody once upon a time had convinced him to grow it long, his wife maybe? Was she dead too, or was she like me, running for her life? What if the man chasing me was Keith, would I run? What if he was already dead?
The crowd seemed to move more slowly than I remembered and as I panted, blinking away sweat which was dripping into my eyes, I managed to move into a faster run, gulping for air as my feet thudded on the ground, sometimes in time with the pack behind me. They growled ferociously and I didn't doubt they craved me like they'd never craved a person before, their snarls were desperate and bloodcurdling which only made me move faster, the air thick with disease, sweat and fear. My leg was getting worse and worse as I felt the effects of whatever drug I'd been injected with wear off, the injury returning as I remembered it. They'd told me not to run but here I was, running and slowly realising what a huge mistake this all was. Just how bad would the pain get? It was dull now but I could feel it getting sharper, I had to stop.

I burst into the pub and heaved the door closed behind me, panting as I strained to close it inch by inch. Before it could click shut, an infected hand grappled round the door but unlike last time this exact scenario played out, I was stronger, colder. I slammed the door with all my might and didn’t even wince when the hand flew off and blood and skin littered the walls.
Somebody else could clean it up.
For the first time, I looked up and noticed I was surrounded by complete blackness which was marginally less daunting than the danger a metre behind me outside the door. I was able to see with the dim candles which were burning on the bar and some of the tables and scenery actually looked quite comforting. Mahogony tables were placed around the room with comfortable looking green chairs and sofas placed round them with green stools at the bar. Pictures and posters hung from the wall while I stood on a scruffy but fluffy red floor which seemed unscathed by any blood other than from the hand which was a few feet away from my foot.