Bang-bang-bang! Infected pounding away at a steel door and concrete walls, try as they may they will not gain entrance to the room. 'Fuck, shit, how could he? That bastard, he said he was immune and he became one of them. One of those soul-less, heart-less monsters out there and he bit me.' A man sits in the light of a small back room of a church, searching frantically until he finds what he is looking for, a marker. He crosses the room to a ladder leading to a small room where some supplies were set up from the military before Riverside was overrun by the endless waves of infected. The church was one of the few places to withstand the initial attack, after the town was besieged and lost to the infection, known only as The Green Flu. 'I've got to let them know my message, better safe than sorry.' He scrawls it across one section of the wall before running out of room and writes over it larger and in red ink 'Better Safe Than Sorry' as he returns to the lower level to watch and wait...
After an hour and slightly breaking sanity he hears some noise and movement. He moves to the door and obscures the viewing slit, so as to be better safe than sorry. He sees four people, three men and one woman. Two of the men and the woman are white and the other man is black, dressed in office apparel. The others are dressed more casual, the girl is wearing a red jacket, white shirt, jeans and Converse All Star High Top sneakers. One man is dressed in military fatigues and a beret, the other jeans, a tank top, and a sleeveless leather jacket. The man in leather walks to the door and bangs on it twice. 'Who are who?' 'Listen, just open the door and we can talk inside.' 'No, I can't. Better safe than sorry.' The military man interjects, 'Listen son, we're immune, we're tired and there's zombies in the goddamn woods. Let us in.' 'Y-you say you're immune, prove it, and I think I know how.' The man reaches over to press a button and causes the church bell to ring and a loud howl is heard signifying the infected are coming. 'Goddamn it!' yells the leather man. While the office man walks over and says 'Mister if any of us dies out here, I'll shoot my way in there and beat you to death with my gun.' While the outsiders are busy with the oncoming hoards, the man crosses over to the opposite wall and slides down, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, covering his eyes. He is wearing a dark blue hooded sweatshirt, brown pants and dirty slip-on canvas shoes. He has his sleeves and pant legs duct taped down to help keep the grasp of infected at bay.
He starts feeling pain in his legs and hands. And as he looks down he regrets it as he sees his fingers grow an inch and his nails grow sharp as claws. He starts to feel a migrane come on and an incredibly painful sensation behind his eyes and frantically starts clawing at his eyes to alleiviate the pain. The man starts growling as he starts to forget his past and even his own name. All he can think about is his burning hunger and the need to sate it. He hears the door open and crouches down, in anticipation for a meal at last. A shout sounds out 'HUNTER!' and it's the last thing the man ever hears beside the shotgun blast that ends him.