Status: Work in progress
The Infected
Prologue
I pulled my coat close to my body, and adjusted my backpack, as I walked down the empty street to the building that leads to my hideout. It's late, dark, the moon is hidden behind the clouds, and it's cold, so cold that I can see my breath.
The city is a ghost town. That's what it feels like now. Especially now in the dead of winter. The buildings, slightly illuminated by a few dim street lamps that had come on when night came, cast sinister shadows that make me extra cautious. I made sure not to pass under any of those lights, who knows what's watching.
I'm nearly there, so close, when I hear a noise to the right, somewhere across the street. I press my back against a wall and scan the street around me. I don't see a thing but I know it's not safe here.
They aren't usually violent but I've seen it happen a few times. When someone has gotten caught or gotten too close or tried to speak rationally to them, they swarm. I don't want to get caught or be seen so I don't hesitate as I walked down the street to the door of the building that's only about fifty feet ahead but it might as well have been a mile.
It's always life or death. Not death of the body, but death of the mind. Even though we haven't proven it yet I know they aren't fully alive in there. Not anymore.
My pace increased as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and sweat, despite the cold, breaks out on my brow. They're near. I can feel it. They're watching, waiting. Always waiting, on what exactly I'm not certain. All I know is I want no part of it.
I break into a run when I see a flash of silver. They don't run but they walk briskly and if there's one, there's bound to be more. I spotted at least three of them. I barely made it inside, jamming the door shut, before a pair of hands reached out to me, surely ready to drag me off to the hell on earth that is their existence.
The city is a ghost town. That's what it feels like now. Especially now in the dead of winter. The buildings, slightly illuminated by a few dim street lamps that had come on when night came, cast sinister shadows that make me extra cautious. I made sure not to pass under any of those lights, who knows what's watching.
I'm nearly there, so close, when I hear a noise to the right, somewhere across the street. I press my back against a wall and scan the street around me. I don't see a thing but I know it's not safe here.
They aren't usually violent but I've seen it happen a few times. When someone has gotten caught or gotten too close or tried to speak rationally to them, they swarm. I don't want to get caught or be seen so I don't hesitate as I walked down the street to the door of the building that's only about fifty feet ahead but it might as well have been a mile.
It's always life or death. Not death of the body, but death of the mind. Even though we haven't proven it yet I know they aren't fully alive in there. Not anymore.
My pace increased as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and sweat, despite the cold, breaks out on my brow. They're near. I can feel it. They're watching, waiting. Always waiting, on what exactly I'm not certain. All I know is I want no part of it.
I break into a run when I see a flash of silver. They don't run but they walk briskly and if there's one, there's bound to be more. I spotted at least three of them. I barely made it inside, jamming the door shut, before a pair of hands reached out to me, surely ready to drag me off to the hell on earth that is their existence.