Title: The Hungry
Author: J Rease
Rating: R
Warnings: Extreme violence, angst, gore, death, and cannibalism. Random round robin style POV.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the concept.
Summary: It was the hunger. The all-consuming urge to eat; the insatiable need to devour. The remaining members of New Directions were all so unsuspecting; so unprepared. The infected were growing. No one could be trusted. No one was safe. The world goes to hell…and the hungry are starving.

Author's Note: I was going to post this fic in its entirety. It is finally finished, however, I wrote most of this out by hand. Consequently, I am posting a chapter a week (every Tuesday), until this fic is completely typed up.

This fic is based loosely on an actual disease. It is caused by an infectious protein (prion) found in contaminated human brain tissue.

Kuru (also known as: The Shiver, The Laughing Sickness, or Human Mad Cow Disease):

Kuru is found among people from New Guinea who practiced a form of cannibalism in which they ate the brains of dead people as part of a funeral ritual.
Symptoms of Kuru include:
Arm and leg pain
Victims are emotionally unstable, depressed, yet having uncontrolled sporadic laughter
Coordination problems that become severe
Difficulty walking
Headaches
Fever
Swallowing difficulty (final stages)
Tremors, extreme shaking and muscle spasms
Insanity

I am using artistic license here… and I am mutating the crap out of Kuru.

Feedback is appreciated.

The Hungry

Her sheets were wet when she woke up. It was damp and unpleasant and it was what she first felt when she spread her hands slowly across the sheets, slick with her sweat. She was hot. Sometime during the night she'd kicked off her covers; they were lodged against the wall her bed was pushed against. She groaned. She didn't feel well. Her skin was on fire and she felt dizzy when she tried to stand. She sat back down. She tried again, and she wobbled to her bathroom to wash her face. When she cupped the cool water spilling from the faucet, her hands shook, and she tried her best to make them stay long enough to gather the liquid slipping through her unstable fingertips. When she finally did, she splashed the water onto her burning cheeks and she leaned against the sink until she felt the room stop spinning.

She dragged her heavy body down the stairs, and she pulled onto a stool as her grandmother shifted slowly about the kitchen. The television played at full volume in the mornings. When her grandma got up to make breakfast, she was usually listening to the news. Today was no different. She folded her arms on the cool countertop and let her head fall sluggishly on top of them. Her stomach growled. Her grandma set a plate of hash browns in front of her, and she sat up slowly before trying to steady her hand around the fork. It trembled. She carved off a corner before shoving it in her mouth. She chewed for a few seconds and she tried to swallow. It scratched down her throat like gravel, so she pushed the plate away from her before resting her cheek flat against the countertop. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and she tried to stop her quivering body.

She heard her grandma moving around the kitchen, and the noises of her cooking seemed to sooth her as she hugged herself. Things begin to blur as she heard the news, disrupting the ease that came with the familiar sounds of home.

"A new strain of what scientists believe to be mad cow disease has surfaced in Ohio, today. The CDC has reported nearly four dozen reports of the illness, and are warning anyone who is experiencing symptoms see a medical professional as soon as possible."

Another voice ricocheted into her eardrums, deeper—louder.

"That's right, Jane. If you are experiencing fever, sensitivity to light, vomiting or violent shaking fits, please see your health care provider, immediately. There are emergency medical stations currently surrounding multiple highway routes. If you cannot seek help from your doctor, there will be trained professionals there to help as well. Please see our website for details."

She tried to swallow. Her hands seemed to vibrate against her sides. She closed her eyes. She focused. Her grandmother was humming, and it was comforting her enough that she finally steadied the shaking. She breathed deep before standing, and she limped back to her room with intentions of getting ready for school. She wasn't sick. She just wasn't.

She made it through her shower. She made it to school and through the beginning of the day. She felt sluggish, but it was an easy day, and she could make it through. It took about an hour— for the feeling to stir. It crept into her senses like her mother's apple pie and it made her stomach growl and her jaw clench when she inhaled… hungry. By lunch, no amount of tots could make the feeling go away and by fourth period, she was heaving it all back up, with ebony chunks of something that felt like her insides into the toilet in the second floor bathroom.

She wasn't sick. She just wasn't. She thought she felt better since the morning. When her appetite came back, she thought the feeling she woke up with wouldn't bother her again. And even though every breath she took was painful, each inhale brought back an intense hunger. By the end of the school day, the need to eat was as insatiable as ever.

She had this craving for something… specific. She smelled it all around her and she kept searching for that something that might satisfy the need to consume. When she finally got home, her grandma was in her rocking chair, eating diagonally cut sandwiches in front of the television. There was a heavenly smell in the house. It reminded her of when her mother made fried ham sandwiches. She sat down beside her grandmother. She took one of the sandwiches and bit into it. It was salty and wet. Not quite chicken and not really pork. She took another bite. The nausea in her stomach cleared. She wasn't sick. Not anymore.

"Grandma what's in this sandwich?"

Her grandmother turned to look at her, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to, Mercedes."

She took another bite anyway, somewhat upset that it was almost gone now. Her grandmother started giggling beside her, fits of laughter shook at the older woman's shoulders. The giggles peeled around the room, reverberating off the walls and bouncing back over the noise of her chewing. The meat was thick, a dark brown with marks that came from grilling. She took the last bite of the sandwich before licking her fingers. Her grandmother was sitting still now, little bursts of laughter slipped past her lips.

"Was it good, Mercy?"

She nodded. Her grandmother started laughing again, standing and doubling over before moving to the basement door. Her grandmother was shaking violently with laughter, her hand thrown over her clenching stomach, smuggled somewhere beneath her bust. She shuffled past her, and walked over to the cellar door, her face shockingly serious through her chuckling.

"Well, let's have some more, chile."

Her grandmother threw open the door and waddled down the cellar stairs. She looked at the empty plate on the table in front of her, and stood up to follow her into the basement. Her grandmother was standing in front of the laundry table, her back to her. The lights were off, and she strained to see what she was doing in the dark. There was this wet sawing sound, and it gnawed through something hard and thick. Her father's tools lined the tackle boards in the basement, and she didn't know which ones were out of place. Her grandmother's elbows were moving, and she could hear the drip drop of something falling into a puddle. She pulled on the cord dangling from cellar ceiling and shrank back as the dark space was illuminated. Her grandmother turned around, her father's saw clutched in one hand, her Daddy's brown skinned forearm hanging grotesquely from the other.

"Let's have some more…let's have more…"

000 0000 000

The television woke her up. Santana was tangled up in Brittany and they were sprawled out on her bed, night time still outside her window. Their limbs crisscrossed and their bodies were pressed close together. They fell asleep watching Dirty Dancing earlier that night. Brittany hadn't even made it to the climax of the movie, because she was too tired to stay awake for her favorite part. She dozed off watching Brittany sleep sometime after. She didn't want to move to turn the television off, so she closed her eyes and tried her best to sleep over the sounds emitting from the set.

Minutes passed and infomercials rang annoyingly in her ears. Brittany kicked off the comforter before snuggling into the crook of her neck, her long arms naturally wrapped around Santana's torso. Nope, she was fine right there, no matter how loud the t.v. seemed; she was definitely not moving. She could feel Brittany's breath tickling her neck, and she felt the heavy thrum of Brittany's heart against her stomach. Nope, she wasn't moving. She focused on Brittany's even breathing, trying to distract herself long enough to drift back to sleep.

There was a loud, jarring noise that came from her television. She opened her eyes. The infomercial had been interrupted, and Rod Roddington straightened his tie before being cued to the camera. His face wasn't as ridiculously pompous as it usually was; he even looked a bit nervous.

"Good evening western Ohio, Rod Roddington here with breaking news. The CDC has declared an epidemic. What was first believed to be a new strain of Mad Cow disease has been identified as an aggressive strain of Kuru. Kuru is caused when human remains are ingested by other human beings. The FDA has launched an immediate investigation into the contaminated food supply, as reports from the infected pour in. If you are experiencing dizziness, loss of motor function, bouts of uncontainable laughter, and uncontrollable urges to consume—"

The television set blinked off. The rainbow channel sign flashed boldly back at her seconds later. It was quiet, and the bright light glaring from the television hadn't been enough to wake up Brittany. She was tired. It was still night time outside. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, she'd finally be able to get some sleep.

000 0000 000

Seventy-five percent of the student body hadn't come to school. Quinn thought it was odd. The few of them who were there drifted to non-stop study hall periods lead by the six staff members who bothered to attend. Everyone knew why most of the students and staff stayed home, but there was no more news to go on. Everyone was suddenly sick, and those who weren't dragged aimlessly through the day; tense. Mr. McCoy was at the front of the class room. He was leafing shakily through yesterday's newspaper, sweating heavily in his seat.

Rachel was sitting beside her. Two years ago, that would have been a major offense. But it was senior year, and she had so many things to make up for. Their friendship had been cautious at first. And when she and Finn got closer it seemed like Rachel would never come back around. But she did; and it got easier to just be herself around the tiny brunette. She'd made a lot of friends from glee. Friends like Mike and Tina who were sitting in front of her. Friends like Brittany and Santana who were whispering to each other behind her. Two girls who would always be her friends. It was funny that they were clustered together; that there was some sense of security in their little group. They've been distracting themselves with the comfort of each other's company; they were forcing things to be as normal as they could right now. No one else from glee was there, but they've been sending messages to the missing and still no word came through. They could only assume at this point, that those who weren't there were among the sick.

"Quinn… have you heard anything from—"

Quinn was mildly annoyed at how many times Rachel had asked her that today.

"No, Rachel… Finn and Kurt haven't responded to my texts yet. Once again, I don't know why you think either of them would actually—"

"No talking Miss Fabray! If you have nothing to do I will gladly give you something."

She shook her head in the negative, and shot a warning glare to Rachel. She'd run out of busy work during second period. Mr. McCoy was loosening his tie. He let the red material slide off his neck and he fisted it in his palm. He stood disjointedly. He paced in front of his desk toward the window, and he doubled back twice before facing the class.

"I have perfect attendance. Did you all know that? I have come to this hellhole every single day for the last seventeen years to teach the same lessons. All of your faces… they're the same. If I've known one, I've known them all. I hate my job so much… but I've never missed a single day! Not one!"

Some people jumped in their seats. Mr. McCoy usually taught biology. He was usually quiet and uninterested… a veteran teacher. He stood in front of the class; his head directed toward the floor and his hands teetered at his sides; unstable.

"When I got up this morning… I didn't feel well. But I couldn't miss school—you all needed me here, so I came. Ha! I came!"

The bubbling laughter that followed bounced off the floor and rebounded around the quiet classroom. It was a sick sound. It sounded like coffee grinders smashing orange peels. There was an unsettling thickness to his cackling, it seemed to stick to the inside of her ear canal and it tickled the hairs she was sure were standing up. He had melancholia in his eyes... like the laughter hurt as it came out. He was giggling at the head of the room, drops of sweat dripping down the sides of his temples. He grabbed his growling stomach before walking down the aisle. The laughter grew louder, and Mr. McCoy stopped abruptly beside Azimio Adams, before sinking down to stoop beside the desk.

The laughter stopped immediately.

No one was moving. It was deathly quiet in the room. Mr. McCoy was vibrating against the desk, his shoulders shaking and his eyes dazed over. The class sat on the edge of their seats, waiting for him to move; waiting for the proverbial jack in the box to launch and cackle in their faces. He was staring blankly at Azimio, who seemed to shrink further into his chair. Mr. McCoy blinked before smiling slowly, he smiled like he knew something none of them knew; it was unnerving. The last thing she registered was the intake of breath from Azimio before Mr. McCoy shot forward to bite into the thick flesh of his neck. The screaming pierced her ears soon after, and she could only see red and pink as bits of flesh tore from the side of Azimio's face. She was frozen at the sight, and she could only acknowledge the gurgling sounds of Azimio choking on his own blood.

Someone was pulling her from where she sat. Someone with strong arms was ripping her from her seat and rushing away from the gore. There was so much screaming and all of the students were scrambling and she was being carried off by some strong force that wouldn't leave her behind. All she heard was screams and closing doors. Screams and her pounding heart. Quinn was being held by the waist against a muscular hip, being dragged off to somewhere hopefully safer than this.

The last door closed and it enveloped her in silence; silence and darkness. They were hiding. She was put down softly on the floor. Two strong hands shook her shoulders lightly. When she dragged her eyes from her hero's chest she saw Mike Chang. He was standing in front of her. She couldn't hear him speaking but his mouth made shapes that rounded into the familiar contours of her name.

Quinn tried to focus on him, and not the closing walls of the tiny room. Wide open spaces couldn't stop the feeling of dread from closing over her heart. They had to get out. They had to get out now.

000 0000 000

For the first time in his life, Michael Chang was unprepared. His mother had taken ill the day before, and his father took her to one of the medical stations set up along the outskirts of Lima. When he woke up that morning, he was still alone, left only with his worries. He coaxed himself into going to school... but the urge to attend was primarily out of habit.

He'd been unprepared for what Mr. McCoy did to Azimio. But when it happened, instinct kicked in and he took action. The girls all shot out of their seats at the first sight of blood— all of them except for Quinn. Santana and Brittany were the first into action. Tina was instantly by his side. Rachel was tugging on Quinn's sweater sleeve, trying to get the blonde to move before Mr. McCoy got full. But Quinn was glued to her seat; watching slack jawed at the gruesome scene playing out before them. He picked her up and dragged her away, just as Mr. McCoy licked his fingers clean of Azimio's blood. Just before a satisfied smile settled on his contorted face. He started running, calling out to the girls to follow him. And he led them there, to this empty classroom with no other plans but to be quiet and remain unseen.

If that was what Kuru was... it was what his mother had. He hoped to himself that the hospital had something... anything that would bring her back from the madness he'd just witnessed firsthand. He pinched his arm slightly... hoping that this nightmare would be one he woke from soon.

Brittany and Santana were by the door, surveying the running students and few faculty members heading toward the gory classroom they'd just left. He watched Santana lock the door knob and push away from the glass. He saw a quick flash of Figgins with his walkie-talkie; sprinting ahead toward the chaos. He gripped Quinn's shoulders, and he tried his best to get her to come from the place she'd retreated to. They couldn't be there... not right now.

"We have to get out of here. If McCoy came to school like that... there's no telling who else could be sick."

"That wasn't being sick, Chang, that was freaking cannibalism. And no shit we have to leave, but where? We need somewhere safe. Somewhere we can keep those people out."

"What about the basement here? There are a lot of doors that lock from the inside down there. Maybe we could hide out?"

Santana shook her head.

"There's like no food down there. And I am sure the teachers have keys... if they come looking we'd be stuck."

"There's the supermarket next to the 7 eleven. They had the windows barred after Puck's atm stunt last year. It was empty when I drove by earlier."

Everyone stared at Quinn, who seemingly snapped out of whatever shock she'd been in. He let his hands drop from her shoulders.

Rachel was the first to speak.

"That should work. Food, supplies... security. But... what if they're in there too?"

For the first time in his life, he was unprepared. But there was nothing he could do now, but lead.

"I guess... I guess we figure that out when we get there. If it isn't safe, we just find somewhere else. But we have to do it quick."

He didn't think he was prepared for anything they might see on the way. But he hoped they had time... he prayed they had time.

000 0000 000

It was raining. It was raining in March and the run to Mike's SUV was one of the coldest showers Tina had ever taken. Everyone else had opted to leave their cars at the school…it was better to stay together. She sat beside her boyfriend as they drove... shivering in the passenger seat with her hand locked with his. This... this couldn't be happening. This wasn't a sickness... it was something worse. She was terrified. There were so many thoughts in her mind. Where were her parents? Did they know? Were they looking for her? She wanted to tell Mike to check. But she knew that the time they had could very well be their saving grace.

The rain was pouring in torrents. It was hard to watch the blur cascading down the windshield without getting lost in her thoughts. All the things she would have done differently if only she'd known what this was. Kuru. The news channels were all on the emergency broadcast system by the time she got up. The U.S. emblem blazed boldly on her laptop screen when she tried to search CNN before leaving for school. They were in the dark.

When she tried to call her out of state relatives that morning, the tri-tone beeps sounded in her ear, before informing her that her call could not be completed. She called Mike right after, and it worked, before asking him to pick her up for school. There was no news since the night before. Only speculation and waiting.

"Tina... come on, we're here." He squeezed her hand.

It was still raining. It was raining harder even as they all jumped out of Mike's car and walked to the loud chiming doors of the market. It was deserted, thankfully, and the only person in the store sat idly behind a magazine, chewing gum loudly by the last counter next the mounted television set in the corner.

As they all approached, the magazine the clerk was holding dropped quickly to her lap.

"Sugar? Why weren't you at school?"

"Hey you guys! Daddy told me to watch the store since Pablo didn't show up for work today. We haven't had customers like... since forever, I've been bored out-"

The television set blinked off standby. The President shifted in his seat before gravely setting his features. They all huddled around the set, ready for any kind of news regarding the virus that was suddenly at their doorstep.

"Good afternoon, America. As parts of the nation pick up their children from school, and others make the commute home from work, the East Coast is being flanked with outbreaks of the lethal virus, Kuru. The FDA has been investigating all sources of beef imports, and a culprit has been identified. Due to lax sanitation restrictions, British importers have been feeding their cattle human remains to cut costs on animal meal. Because of their corner cutting, all beef supplies shipped to eastern U.S. soil for at least the last year have been contaminated and consumed by the American people. As reports of outbreaks rise, the government can only declare a state of emergency. The Kuru virus spreads by getting into the blood stream. Proteins aggravate the hypothalamus gland and renders the infected unable to control their hunger. Through their dementia, the need to consume human flesh becomes undeniable, as they try to keep human prions in their systems to prolong their survival. If you are experiencing extreme sudden depression, bouts of laughter, uncontrollable shaking and fever, please go to one of the designated medical stations we have commissioned. The CDC is working non-stop to find an incubation agent to postpone the ill effects of the virus, so we can cure the thousands who are inflicted. Stay inside, and if you come in contact with an infected person, do not engage them. Do not let them bite you. Any bodily fluids transferred into the bloodstream will spread the infection. We will be working diligently from the white house to ensure your safety. May God bless America, may He have mercy on us all."

The t.v. blinked back to the emergency broadcast system. They stood around the cash register, Sugar blankly stared back at them, wide eyed. The rain stopped; and the giant glass windows were slowly clearing up. Tina was momentarily lost, not completely aware of what was happening. When she blinked, she could see in the distance a solitary figure, draped in a wet, tattered hospital gown. He was standing right across the main street, a bloody surgical saw dangled from the cord in his left hand. From his vantage point, he watched them. He watched them, and then he smirked.

"You guys... maybe we should lock up the store."

They all turned to look at where Tina was pointing; where the tall figure stood, waiting. He had blood on his chin, and she could almost pick out vestiges of flesh sitting above his goatee. He was shaking slightly, the saw in his hand jerking on the string. He was one of them. He was one of the infected and he had been watching them from under an awning across the street from the supermarket. When he took his first step off the pavement, Mike rushed quickly to the front of the store to lock the double doors. The infected man smiled widely before taking a second step, his eyes somewhat locked with all of theirs simultaneously. They would have to kill him if he tried to get into the store. He took another step, somewhat elated with the thought of torturing them slowly. He was in full view when he took his next step. They would have to kill the man who ran the hardware store on Main street. Mr. Hampton... who now had Kuru. He took another step. They were going to have to kill this man... even though she thought that none of them would be able to.

He took two steps more...

Her heart was pumping in her chest. She didn't know what he would do. She quickly thought about how easy the glass windows could shatter if he threw that saw through one of them. She thought about Azimio and all that blood. She thought about what it would feel like to be eaten... to be eaten alive.

He was almost to their side of the street. No one else was moving. What would he do? What could he do? One step more-

No one heard the pickup truck coming, apparently Mr. Hampton hadn't either. The impact was enough noise to force them all into action. They scrambled around the store, all of them quickly aware of the severity of their situation, of the danger. The pickup truck kept going, and Quinn made her way to the glass window to make sure that he was dead. She watched his unmoving body for a few moments before nodding to herself and walking away.

He wouldn't get back up, Tina thought to herself. They weren't zombies. No... zombies would have made things a lot easier.