Jake.

Jake? Ache. Raaake. Ay-something. Not-infected noise. Yooman. Human? Name. His name. His or hers? He. He could remember a sound made with the mouth, but not a screech. Nothing loud or angry. Calm. He'd heard it before from the mouths of familiar faces he didn't recognize. A virus. He remembered a virus, but not really. It wanted him to do something. Didn't know what, just did. Killed. He thinks, not sure. Can't remember. Another human word for clawing. Kill. Strange word. Simple.

Right. Virus. Tells him things. Bad things, good things, he doesn't know the difference. Not anymore. Trying to figure it out, slowly. Not entirely successful. Still trying, though.

Hazy. Smells, sounds. Sights. Dark places. Lights. Night? Nigh. Knight. Something. When they sleep. He doesn't sleep. Can't sleep. Doesn't know why. Doesn't really think about it.

The smell is back. Humans. A lot of humans. Smoke-smell. Artificial. Gun powder. No? No. Not gunpowder. Can't tell. Shrapnel. Smoke. Yes, that's it. He can smell smoke, and a fire. Metal scraps embedded in scorched bodies. Blood. No longer in the body. But not human blood.

He growls. Not human blood, but humans nearby. He can see them. Sort of. Smell them, hear them. They are loud. Stomping. Heavy breathing and sobbing. Scratching. Moaning. Pleasant noises, so he thinks.

Forward. He moves forward and peers over the side of the building. It's raining. Smells are strong now, when it rains. Doesn't know why. Doesn't care. Three humans. Two females, one male. But he doesn't know that. To him, they are human. Just human. Bland, boring. Grey colors. Not like the colorful pictures the virus shows him. Not like the other infected. Needs to get rid of them.

Bloated infected. Ugly, smelly even for infected. Sprays -spray?- colors at uninfected. Other infected come. Kill.

One stands. Female. Terrified. Resigned. Understanding?

She looks up.

He jumps.

I think it's been two months. Maybe longer. I see things, vivid pictures clinging to my outer subconscious, and they tell me they're memories. I'm not entirely sure I know what that is, though. And it bothers me that I feel like I'm forgetting something. It's a woman, my subconscious tells me. You know her. And I believe it. I know her name, but not how to say it. Know how she looks, but can't quite imagine her looking like anything. It hurts.

I tilted my head up to see the sky. Another overcast day, sprinkling rain. I think I liked the rain at one point.

Taking a breath, I launched myself across the buildings with ease, sinking my claws into the concrete of the buildings, then setting off again. Flying through the air seemed so natural, like walking or eating but somehow easier. And the feeling of wetness soaking into my jacket felt somewhat refreshing and calming. This was something the thing lurking at the fringes of my mind told me to enjoy, and so I did.

Sometimes, I remembered how it all happened, but then It disregarded them as side effects of the virus; hallucinations that were of no importance. And I believed it, because I'm simply not intelligent enough in this state to question anything.

Not food. Humans. Many. Walls? Hiding behind walls. Smell them. Hear them. Kill them. Kill them now!

My mind was a jumbled mess at the scent of humans, reverting to a primal state that that allowed It to take over. It urged me to lash out and attack, claws first always. Made my jaws clench, mouth to water not in hunger, but excitement. My heart began racing in a familiar way I had begun to associate with pleasure. A primitive, violent pleasure.

I landed, roughly, on the corner of the roof of a small grocery store, peering down at the broken glass of the windows and plastic bags. It had been raided a week or so after the first infection, thus was left fairly bare. Humans wouldn't go there. And across the street, outside of the city, was an encampment. Fourteen humans in all, excluding a small child. They reeked of fear and frustration, along with ordinary human body odor. So they hadn't showered. No wonder I could smell them.

In one leap, I could make it to the grassy fields on the outskirts of the city, and maybe a half kilometer of normal distance, no jumping. I don't know how I knew this, but my mind told me it was the inner predator. Calculating and logical as ever.

So off I went, leaping over the small wire fence and into the over grown grass on the other side. No predatory shriek was involved in the feat, and thus I remained silent. The rising growl at the back of my throat subsided when I stood awkwardly with dangling arms and a lowered head, teeth bared and slobbering into the dirt. And I ran toward the camp, the smell of humans and firewood burning in my nostrils. But then I... stopped. Abruptly, I lurched to the side to avoid the massive fist of one of the larger infected creatures. Massive and muscle bound things that I, nor the thing inside me, had a name for. Humans called it something... Didn't they call it things? No. Tanks. Humans called them tanks. I didn't know why, unable to see any connection. Made up word.

But the tank wasn't after me. Instead, it charged right past and headed straight for the human camp, bellowing guttural noises that sent vibrations to the marrow of my bones. Stunned, all I could do was watch.

The humans screamed. Guns went off, bones were snapped. It hurt my ears, stung my nose. Too loud. Too strong.

Get out. GET OUT. DANGER.

I didn't understand It, and curiosity won over compliance. The smell of blood was enticing, and I had to get near. Blood didn't belong in the body. That's what It used to tell me, when I first began. And I agreed with it, but didn't really know why reaching such a consensus on the matter with It was so easy.

The first human I saw was male. Tall, long beard. Tanned skin and thick arms. A lot of blood in the wrong place. I had to get it out. Let it go. So I crouched on all fours with my chin touch the ground, knees bent and back with a cry that tore my throat, launched myself into the air, claws outstretched and teeth bared, and tackled the man, flattening the grass beneath us.

Straddling him to keep myself in place, I raised clawed hands, sinking them into the soft flesh beneath his faded blue shirt, freeing the blood that pooled in his belly, sending long-things I somehow knew were important flying through the air like macabre streamers. The man beneath me gurgled, sputtering incoherent words accompanied by a fresh spout of warm blood. He would choke himself to death before I finished, but at least he was helping free the blood trapped inside.

A sick feeling of amusement bubbled up inside me as I tore into this man, snapping ribs and puncturing vital organs. Give the blood it's freedom, It tells me, It begs for freedom and is kept trapped inside those humans. GET IT OUT. I enjoy the sight of the blood, and sometimes, I enjoy the taste.

I've tasted human before. I've tasted many kinds of meat. It tells me I need such things to survive. And in while feeding, I get to see blood as well. It's a treat. A sick treat something else inside me finds disgusting. I ignore that part.

"Hunter!" I recognize that title. I've heard it before, and I respond by snapping my head up to bare bloodied teeth at the offender. Female. Gun in hand. Pointed at me and in that moment I realize that I am in danger. The man was already dead by now, and so I relinquished my prize and jumped off of him, launching myself backwards and out of the sight of the woman, who shouted in anger. I had to leave. Had to escape, but where?

I turned to see the opening to the woods, thick trees, lots of cover. Safety. But I didn't make it.

A sharp, burning pain in my shoulder stopped me, knocking me face first into the dirt. Not far off, the groaning death rattle of the tank sounded, and I knew the attack was over. And I was exposed.

The woman with the gun came up to me, pointing her silver handgun at the back of my neck. Yet... something odd happened, and I couldn't quite explain it. Instead of ending whatever life I had, she kneeled on the ground with a small length of scratchy white rope.

No NO. FREEDOM. RUN. FIGHT. KILL. GET OUT. WON'T GO. CAN'T GO. GETAWAYGETAWAYGETAWAY!

She was tying my arms behind my back while I thrashed and snarled, spittle and blood spurting from my open mouth. My squirming increased when I heard the heavy sound of boots pounded the wet earth and halted beside my prone form and the woman.

"Holy shit, Claire. You know the rations we could get out of this?" The man had a gruff, deep voice that sounded soft on my ears, accompanied by a rougher, scratchier quality. "Those CEDA outposts, ya know, they give fuckin' rewards n' shit if we bring anything of use. Damn, we could get, like... a months worth of stuff out of this capture."

The man kicked me in the side and spit. "Hard bastards to catch I 'eard."

Once finishing the bindings, the woman, Clear... Claire? Snorted. "Give weeks worth for a hunter, because they're the hardest. We got an easy one." I snarled at the both of them, baring sharpened teeth. They just laughed at me.

"Sure ya don't got a muzzle or somethin'? Gonna get a lil' obnoxious at night. We can go tomorrow mornin' if ya want, heard there was an outpost just a few miles west of here."

Claire nodded. "Warn the others. I'll drag him back to the camp, find more rope. Secure him to something away from Jonny. Kid'll get himself bitten."

And so the man left, and thus beings my journey. Don't know where I'm going. Can't really conjure up the brain power to care. Not that that ever bothered me, of course.

Besides. Ignorance is bliss.

I had so much fun with this. I really did. I basically need something to break the writers block that's been harassing me for quite a while. And I can't wait to see how Jake ends up interacting with the rest of the humans in that little camp of theirs. Hopefully this story goes well, and as always, I ask for reviews and constructive criticism. Also, share your ideas. Your thoughts. I want to know!

~ Sam