– March 18, 2010 marked the first sighting of the OHT virus. Found inside a test subject, a 23 year-old diabetic male. Scientists had extracted the Ophiocordyceps fungus to form drugs to fight against hypoglycemic and diabetic casualties. The method was foolproof, the test subject showed no signs of any spikes in health levels and all signs of any illness vanished. And then the symptoms began.

The first unusual symptoms were a range between emotional and physical, as described by the Food and Drug Administration's official statement. "Patient 001 was first seen under the influence of unbridled rage. Doctors were able to sedate Patient 001, but sedation lost complete effect by the third day of observation. Day four, physical inhibitions took play, and the Patient lost pigment in his skin and his hair began to fall out. His bone marrow weakened, leaving his body bristle. The Patient soon began the unrelenting task of scratching the epidermis until irritation and, eventually, removal. Doctors restrained him to prevent any further self-infliction.

"By day five, Patient 001 had lose the ability to form words, perform small motor skills and seemed unable to comprehend any command presented to him. His rage returned, and organs began to shut down. The test was deemed a failure, and euthanization was scheduled prior to the escape of Patient 001." The announcement went on to warn the public of Patient 011, to stay clear if found, as contagion is unsure. Citizens of Manhattan are advised to stay indoors and avoid contact of any strange –

The newspaper was crumbled under under two hands. A young man with vibrant red hair stood slumped in one of New York's many streets. He was a modest pair of jeans, a fleece shirt (unbuttoned to fifth one down), a pair of thick, black, lace-front boots, and a set of goggles on top of his flaming hair, almost matching the tint to a T. His clothes were torn slightly, hair messy and unkempt, but he looked priceless in a time like this. A backpack adorned his back and a black shawl his front, and these were the only two items he owned. He was alone.

Matt sighed, tossing the useless piece onto the ground where he found it and continued his careful maneuver through what used to be known as New York.

As he walked through a vast highway, littered with debris, destroyed vehicle, and the occasional body, he gave the newspaper some credit. That particular article at least tried to warn them all (albeit the tardiness). Media outlets took a stupid stand on the outbreak, completely ignoring it's existence as if someone a man with a thirst for human flesh was benign, that was, at least until an army of his rose. He shook his head; he hoped whatever bastard made the call was one of the first torn apart limb from limb.

Time wasn't on humanities side. When Patient 001 escaped, his first victim was targeted not even two hours later. They say she wasn't the eaten, but merely inflected by a wound he left. They started cannibalism after their rage dies down. Matt reasoned it was to fill the void anger fills.

But once one turned, the world was finished. She found one, they found another- (the city) was destroyed and under complete virus influence.

The army tried secret tactics to keep them quarantined: blocking off the city, gunning them down. They even tried the incredulous idea to nuke the city. Maybe they were trying too hard to follow by the zombie cult classics. But before nothing worked. Eventually they all were eaten up like the rest of the city. Just like the world.

It took some time, at least. He couldn't remember the day, he had lost track quickly after trying, but it had been over a year until it looked just like this.

His boots crunched against the soiled concrete, being careful to keep his noise to a minimum. So far he hadn't seen anything, but that didn't keep his guard from falling.

One thing he still hadn't gotten used to was the silence. He remembered New York in it's best. Still a disgusting rat-hole, but a breathtaking one. The lights, the music, the people. Every enchanting piece of the city was now thrown into a shattered dream. Green eyes looked up to the broken signs and busted billboards.

He sighed and continued on.

Matt never stopped. He never made camp for more than a day. He never attempted the suicidal notion that was "extinction", a process of ridding an area entirely of the Infected and then securing it. Idiotic gun-crazy groups often rallied to try the process, but they all ended up the same way; like the rotting monsters they tried to destroy. He didn't plan on ending up like them, so he stuck to his master plan. He was in search of someone. Someone who, if anyone, would be in the safest place in the world right now.

Their invitation was strategically placed. He found it at a site he slept at one night, and it promised him safety and everything could need. To this day he had no idea how they found him; Matt had made up theories, theories that he hoped were right. If they were both alive... Maybe he wouldn't contemplate existence in this world anymore.

He shook his head as the trivial thought came to his mind. He could reach his destination and find them dead and he would move on. This entire time he could be lured into a trap to strip him of his supplies and he would collect more. Nothing would keep him from living.

For a moment, he paused to scan the area. It was early morning, and a thick fog had produced through the littered streets. The building he had been in pursuit of had no visage, even after it's massive stature, metallic glass shimmering like a beacon of hope. But that beacon with hidden by grey smoke, leaving him to have to wait it out.

"They're going to wake up soon.." He murmured under his breath, despite no one being around. But his eyes were focused on something. Twenty feet ahead sat one of them against an upturned truck. It didn't move, but it was there. The red-head rolled his eyes; he wished he could do that so easily.

Something Matt had discovered wasn't in the cheesy zombie films. They weren't dealing with the undead; just slow, brittle cannibals. The Infected weren't dead, quite the opposite, and even they needed sleep.

His heart began to quicken once his legs picked up motion to set past it. Just then he was able to feel it through his chest, a set of soft panic fleeting through him. One wrong move and it would awaken, and it would be one of two things: angry, or ready to eat.

He stepped on his toes, one careful inch over the next. The sound of it's strangled sleeping filled his eardrums, pushing the fear into the front of his thoughts. He clutched his chest, eyes never once leaving it. They were disgusting. Blood and organs dripped from their jaws, mangled tendons and fat positioned slopping in it's rotting teeth. This one still had semblance of hair to it's head, quite possibly a blonde, but that was questionable. It's figure was distorted; this Infected most likely was the careless type, the ones who run despite already broken limbs, to the point if separation. A few of it's toes were missing on the left leg, and it's entire right had been torn from it's socket, a neat flat spot of dropping skin when it should lie. He held back his gag reflex despite it's difficulty.

He was nearly clear of it; just several more steps and the slumbering monster would no longer be his concern. Freedom tasted sweet on his tongue, his steps became lighter,and his heart slowed from his racing beats.

But then it happened.

The shawl wrapped around his chest began to move. Something was inside it, squirming, fidgeting in frustration. Any contentment Matt felt swept away listlessly, his attention snapped to the moving fabric. 'No, no, not now!' His mind raced a mile a minute, eyes darting from the fabric to the Infected's body. He no longer had the time to walk through with caution. The sling was no longer moving, but making sounds. They were small, but increasing in volume with each small fidget. His heart was racing again, holding tight to the wiggling package.

"Grnn..."

He turned his head back; it was shifting, he could see the blood spurt from it's mouth as it came to and suddenly his breath evaporated from his chest. It was sniffling the air behind him, causing the fine hairs on his neck to stand at attention. He had to run. This moment the vile creature caught wind of him it would be fight for any chance to rip him apart. "Fuck, fuck!" He took off as fast as he could go, and just then violent roar of hunger was sounded behind him.