Feed...
Feed...
Feed...
Blood spattered to the ground from a grotesque mouth,
and odd choking sounds emitted from a shredded throat.
A neck twitched violently, along with the shoulders and arms.
Others were around, acting the same way.
The smell was driving the disease insane.
Death.
It wanted more.
But it seemed all the death that could have saitiated them,
had already happened.
Screams and gutteral sounds eminated from everywhere.
Heads jerked side to side, searching...
Oh god...was the only thing Sarah could think as her body writhed on the ground for the first three seconds.
Well, that and the pain.
For the next sixteen seconds after that she was jerking, spitting and screaming rabidly at the top of her lungs on the floor.
It seemed to be the only thing she was really capable of doing with her throat torn open and her body savagely mangled.
They called it Rage.
and she could now tell why.
She felt herself stand, but somehow knew she shouldn't be.
Her body jerked itself forward of its own accord.
Confusion rankled her brain but it seemed she could do nothing to control herself.
Sarah tried to speak, but nothing other than garbled sounds emitted from her as she ran out of her house haphazardly.
A haze was clouding all of her judgement, her thinking, her soul.
As she passed a body lying in the gutter, she thought she saw it breath and rejoyced deep in her mind.
Another non-infected!
Before she knew what she was doing she was jumping on the body and tearing at it.
The same voice that had been rejoycing was now screaming in agony.
She couldn't stop herself as she bent down and tore into the body's throat.
It was then that her conciousness realized that it was not her screaming, but the body.
Well... it wasn't anymore.
Her body jerked upwards again and she felt like crying.
Aimlessly she wandered for nights, sleeping during the day.
Looking for what, she had absolutly no idea.
The day had come. Every fiber of her being sensed it.
The hatred and hunger rose to the surface after days of starving.
Somehow, she could still stand, walk and run.
And that she did.
The warm body infront of her was running as fast as it could,
but the little boy, who was maybe 12, had no where to hide.
He was screaming wretchedly and Sarah felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside.
But she could not stop. Her body moved on its own now.
Her soul was not required for it to function anymore.
She finally caught him about a mile or two from the park they had been in.
While her mouth feasted on his flesh, her body resonated happily with the nourishment and horror.
She repulsed herself, and could do nothing about it.
Every day she died alittle inside while she killed.
She wanted to die, but didn't.
Never in a million years had she thought horror movies were real.
And now, here she was.
One of the monsters.
But in the movies, none of the monsters had a concience.
Why did she?
Were the others like her?
Were they still the same on the inside, but helpless to the disease on the outside?
A prisoner within their own body.
Who could ever know?
A few days later, she felt the heat again.
Sure, it was always there.
But it intensified when her body smelled the warm, still steadily pumping blood within the live ones.
With all her past attempts to fight it, she had given up on stopping.
Her soul was almost dead.
She could tell.
Because she almost didn't care anymore.
It was inside of a town house now.
Middle of the day.
And there was a car.
She could feel the blood rushing in their veins as though it was her own.
It would be soon.
She ran screaming out of a room at a dark skinned woman.
She was barely shocked to see a full grown woman with rotting skin coming at her so ferociously.
With one bullet to the head,
Sarah was down.
And with the last few nanoseconds of her existance,
her soul thanked the woman who had set her free.