Run. I had to run. My legs ate up the distance, though they ached in protest. The warning sirens screamed and echoed announcing that it was midnight, and the infected were out for their nightly hunt. My heart pounded in my veins, sweat rolling down into my eyes, temporarily blinding me. I heard my hunter groaning, letting out that god-awful bellow of his thrill in our chase. I didn't dare turn my head, knowing he was right in my heels. All I could do is drive myself to run faster, to push harder. I saw the safe room’s red light illuminate the steel coated doors. I was close.
But that’s when it happened. I tripped over my own feet, falling onto the hard asphalt face first. I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could, but still I wasn’t fast enough.
The beast grabbed me, pulling me into its tight grasp. Its body was a pale gray color, covered in dried black blood, a sign of the infection. It had once been a young male, full of color and potential. But as I stared into its faded white eyes, I didn’t see a boy. I saw a monster, who only knew how to do one thing. Hunt.
It let out a loud roar in triumph, sinking its yellow stained teeth into my healthy and living skin. I threw my head back in pain, feeling the warm blood run down my arm. It locked its jaw onto the bone, making it impossible for me to pull it off. I let my body give into its bite, closing my eyes and relaxing my body.
In the darkness, I saw her. Catherine. My daughter. Her hair long blonde hair was in a braid as it always was, and her smile was just as big as ever. She ran into my open arms, burying her face into the black sea of my hair. I took in her scent, making my heart swell with happiness.
“I missed you so much...” I said to her, kissing her forehead.
She looked up to me, her bright green eyes staring into mine. “Mommy, I missed you too.” She smiled, her two front teeth missing.
I felt something warm against my hand, soaking through the cracks of my fingers. I lifted my hand into my line of sight, seeing a bright red mixing with a dark black. Blood... And infection. Both coming from the little girl that stood in front of me.
I gently pushed her from my body, looking at her face. She was pale, reminding me of the thing that had a hold on my arm.
I was not dying this way.
My eyes flashed open, my gun centered in the middle of its gray forehead before I had time to blink. Its pale eyes glanced up to meet mine; giving me the idea that it was taunting me. The predator had caught the prey.
I smiled widely, tightening my finger on the trigger. “Feed on this, motherfucker.” The shot echoed through the abandoned alley ways, and its ridged body fell slump. The jaw loosened, but its long stained teeth remained in my arm.
I took in a quick breath, grabbing the hair on the back of its head. I ripped the infected corpse out of my arm, leaving a massive red gash in my arm that went down the bone. Parts of my pink muscle fell from the wound, followed by the crimson red of the blood that was in such a hurry to escape my veins.
Clutching the wounded arm close to my chest, I ran off towards the safe room which was now only a few yards from me.
I threw the heavy steel door open, sliding in and throwing the iron bar down across it, making sure it was locked. I turned around, and slowly falling onto the floor. I lifted my arm from the clutches of my chest, examining the artwork of the infected body’s teeth. Dark blood covered my torso, making my head spin out of control.
I rose to my feet, walking over to the little metal table in the corner of the nearly empty room. I threw my bag on top of it, a loud thud coming from the collision. The bag was originally gray, but from the blood of the infected, it had been stained an oil black that made my stomach churn.
I poured out the bags contents, consisting of a large first-aid kit, a few bottles of water, a can opener, a few cans of food, more ammo for the guns that sat at my hips, and a picture. The picture was of Catherine, back in the early summer before the infection broke out. She was standing by the water of the lake my father had always taken us to, her hair wet from swimming.
I felt something hit my arm, gazing down at the clear drop I realized I was crying. It had already been a month since she had died.
I shook away the lingering thought, opening the first-aid kit and grabbing the suture and thread. I used a bottle of water to clean the blood from the open wound, and then sterilized it with rubbing alcohol. The white of the bone stood out from the ripped pink muscle, making me even more nauseated. I tore a strip of leather from my jacket, putting in between my teeth and biting down as hard as I could. I stabbed the sharp needle into my broken skin, tightening it and repeating until the great hole in my arm closed up.
I spit the leather strip out, my head spinning and dancing from the amount of blood I had lost, most now covering the marble floor under me. I groaned in pain as I turned around, walking to the small tiled shower at the other side of the room. It had no curtains, just a small drain at the bottom and a few metal racks to hold bars of soap and the small container of shampoo I had.
I slid off my bloody muscle shirt, tossing it on top of my bag. My bra was worn out
and stained, along with the tight pants I wore to secure my hidden weapons. I had seven knives down my thighs, and on my calves, placed inside my boots, were two long steel blade daggers.
I slid each off carefully, throwing them onto the pile of clothing that was now on the cold floor.
(All I have at the moment, But gladly accepting comments!)
