Fighting The Disease

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You A Monster

The night is silent. Nothing is up here. The Infected prefer to go more South, not North, where me and Ace are. Maybe it's because of gravity. Maybe it's because more people live in the more Southern areas, and the Infected are attracted there. Maybe it's because the air is less cold and less thin in the South. I don't know. But for whatever reason, me and Ace only see an average of 5 Infected a week. That is a very low number. Not that I'm complaining.

I look around the little campsite me and Ace have made. It's not too shabby. Actually, we've been here for three days. Usually we are at one area for a day or two maximum. Staying in one place is not good. At least, for us it isn't. We don't have a big house with weapons and metal covering the windows. Well, not anymore. Ace and I did snag some weapons before we left. Four guns. Five knives. And two weapons that could easily be considered machetes. One for Ace, one for me. I like knives. They're quiet. And it's personal, too. It's like by killing an Infected with a knife instead of a gun, I'm telling the universe that this needs to stop. Even though I know it won't. Even if the Apocalypse did end, life would never be normal. Nothing would ever be the same.

I take the binoculars off the branch of the tree that it's hanging on, and look around. No Infected. I climb up the tree just to be sure. For once, I am thankful that it's Autumn. That means the leaves are forgotten by the branches, and no Infected could be camouflaged. I look around for about two minutes. Deciding that it's safe for me to be gone for at least a few minutes, I climb down the tree, and grab my big knife, which I just call my sword. I walk towards the tent where Ace is sleeping. And oh, is he sleeping. I could hear the snoring from ten paces away. But I don't have the heart to wake him up and tell him to sleep more quietly. He's been on night watch for the last few days, and it was starting to show. His reflexes were terrible when fighting, and every time he so much as blinked, it seemed as if he struggled opening his eyes once more. And he wasn't going to let me roam around at night, looking for a new camp. One like this, except less exposed. Anyone could accidentally come across this camp.

I check the rope around the tent. Surrounding the tent are four strings. They are clear, which means that they are easily missed even in the day. The strings have one bell on each of them, and are attached to sticks I shoved in the ground. That way, if an Infected comes towards the tent, they would not only wake the person inside, they would fall, giving the person inside time to grab a weapon. Ace's idea of course. Ace is the brains, I'm the fighter. He avoids and outsmarts the Infected. I kill them as soon as I spot them. That's the way we are. But it's a good balance, I suppose. The rope is taunt, but not so stretched that the bells will not jingle. Perfect. I move on. I walk in a line behind the tent. I carve a little wedge into every few trees that I pass, so should I get lost, I can find my way back. I might as well not even bother, though. I'm not going to get lost. I'm survival smart. Always have been. But it's better to be safe than sorry, I suppose. I spot a tree that I can easily climb about thirty seconds into the speed walk I started. You walk surprisingly fast in thirty seconds when you're terrified of being ambushed and mauled apart. I climb it, and see the most glorious sight. A river. The walk is five minutes minimum. Part of me says that I should get back to Ace. I bite my lip contemplating which decision is the right one.

I run towards the stream, carelessly hacking at trees as I go. I know that I am silent enough, but I still cringe every time I hear the leaves beneath my feet crunch slightly underneath my weight. The only weight that I have is in muscle. Not much fat as a result of not much food. The Infected don't just kill humans, they kill animals, too. The Infected don't kill humans for their brains, like in the movies and shows. They kill because that's what they were designed to do.

The original virus was intended for the use of animal (particularly dog) fighting. The injection altered the animals perception. It doesn't wound, it doesn't hurt, it kills. The goal was for money. Or at least, that's the explanation I came up with. However, humans did not catch the virus. The only way was to drink it. If that wasn't the only way, then this apocalypse would've started a long time ago. A ship carrying an immense dosage of this was illegally departing. In the middle of the ocean, there was a crash. The ship went down, but the virus remained. It spread through water. Turns out the chemist who created the formula was careless and obviously didn't anticipate this. Neither did anyone else. By the time the boat was found, the toxic water was already packages, and being shipped to stores. They filtered the water, they didn't boil it. The government hadn't told anyone about the possible outbreak. The citizens had no clue. We were vulnerable and stuck in a war zone. It wasn't just the Infected killing us, it was us killing us. People killed others for resources when they could use the people themselves as resources. The virus then evolved. It started getting spread by having the virus come into the blood stream.

Finally, I reach the river. I crouch behind a tree and make sure nothing is waiting for me. My eyes wander for about thirty seconds. I need to be careful, but also quick. Ace is still waiting for me, though he doesn't know it... Hopefully. Once I am confident that I'm alone, I stalk over to the water, and fill the bottle with it. I'll boil it when Ace and I set up a new camp. We've been at the previous one far too long. Ace... I bite my lip knowing the potential danger I put him in. But we've been running low on water, so maybe he would understand?

Once the bottle is rinsed and filled to the brim with the lid secured, I can't help but admire the waterfall. It's loud, but I suppose the Infected aren't attracted to natural sounds. If they were, there would be a decent sized cluster in this very area. The light of the stars create little gaps of white in the water that appears as if ink in the dark night. And then, I spot a tiny gap. Between the rock and the water there is something. I edge closer, the voice in my head shouting for me to get back to Ace. To the only family I have since Mother...Since Mother escaped. And yet my curiosity is also daring me to move closer, teaming up with desperation. Winter is coming. Me and Ace need a real shelter. An area closed off from anyone-or anything- else. I reach the waterfall in 19 steps exactly. I reach my hand out, and hesitantly, push it through the water. The water is ice, and the pressure is not helping either, but within a few seconds, I have the information I need. I turn around, and run back to Ace.

Once again running silently and taking shallow yet frequent breaths, I arrive at the camp in no time. I look around, and start taking deeper breaths, letting my lungs expand and relax. I start walking over to the tent, when suddenly, I feel metal pressed against my throat. But not just any metal, the metal of a knife. Or, more precisely, a machete. I smirk as I take my elbow and jab it in the area I hit Ace in at practice. A groan escapes. I should have been relieved. And I would have been, if the voice matched Ace's.