This story contains scenes of a graphic nature, furthermore depicting two men. If you don't like then you may leave. There's an arrow in the upper left hand corner of you internet browser that will take you to the previous page, and a big X in the right hand corner that will close the page. Your choice. Or if you do want to read, then continue on...

Summary: In the new world, all zombies run on instinct. But what happens when a certain hunter encounters a man that threatens to change his instincts entirely? HunterXEllis. I don't know what else to put up here so you can go to the story now.

Infected:

A low growl came from his throat. He couldn't help himself, he always got caught in the heat of the moment. His screeching became more wild and out of control as he stalked closer to his prey. "Careful guys, I hear a hunter." Damn, he had let himself get discovered. From his vantage point, perched on the corner of a building, he staked out the survivors. Two dark ones, one large, the other two light and tall. Which one looked more tasty?

He crouched furhter, his screeches growing more frantic. The muscles in his legs rippled with expectation. The large dark one grew slowly more seperated from the group, then he stopped. He took the chance, leaping from the building. His feet threw him forward and down and he let out a howl of immense pleasure. Everyone else seemed to freeze in terror. The hunter landed squarely on his target, knocking him to the ground. He took no time tearing apart the man, and he was there for quite a while before someone came to rescue the man, who was screaming in pain.

A woman ran over shouting something, but he was too into what he was doing to notice. Suddenly though he felt something connect to his head, hard. The hunter stumbled off the man and looked around. He expected the bullets to fly any moment, but they didn't come. His eyes caught one of the survivor's eyes and the hunter stood still for a moment before screeching and bounding away from the group. The three survivors not on the ground relaxed.

Survivors:

Rochelle dropped to her knees by coach's side. "Coach... you gonna make it? She asked, trying not to notice the man's nearly fatal wound. Coach shook his head, accompanying it with a grunt of pain. He spat a bit of blood from his mouth. Ellis stared down at him.

"Coach..." He knew the man wouldn't make it with that kind of wound. Nick hang back, hiding but he was certainly upset about the old man's dilema. Ellis looked away suddenly. "We have gauze, we can fix 'im up, right?" He asked, his voice an undertone of worry.

"Honey... he aint gonna make it." Rochelle whispered to Ellis, not wanting to freak out the coach. He was on the ground, straining to breath. Coach knew what they were all thinking. They couldn't continue with him, they would be slowed down even more. They would be better off without a tired old man anyway. But none of them wanted to do it. He was suffering but there was no way anyone would end it.

Nick swallowed. "We need to get moving. All of us are out of ammo."

"We can't just leave him here to suffer!" Ellis objected.

"Then end it." Nick said coldly, passing the machete to Ellis. Ellis shook his head.

"Naw man... I can't do that." He said, refusing the weapon. Nick nodded, fully understanding.

"Ya'll go ahead. I'll catch up to you." They all knew what was going to happen. Ro tugged on Ellis's arm.

"Come on sweety, there's a safe house up ahead." She used her calmest, most sweet tone she could muster. It didn't help him at all. The two walked on, and half way to their desination Nick caught up to them. Fresh blood covered the machete.

"Bye coach. We'll miss you..."

The safe house door closed shut and Ellis latched it securely, stacking up a bit of a barrier just in case. When he finished, he took a seat away from the others. There was a solemn cloud of depression over the group of three. Everyone seemed to be affected by coach's death, but no one wanted anyone else to know how much it was affecting them. Ellis was the first to speak. "We should... ya know say some words or something."

Nick then spoke. "Why? It's not gonna bring him back." He scowled and Ellis seemed to retreat back. "The only thing we can do to honor him is to keep on surviving," the gambler said fiercely.

"It's strange..." Ro finally spoke up. "That hunter was different. It was stronger... or maybe i just couldn't get to him in time," she mused mostly to herself. But she wasn't about to blame herself for the death of coach. She had a zombie apocolypse to blame. "No matter. Ellis- I know you're hurting, but Nick's right. We gotta get moving." As if on cue, the familiar bang and earth shaking rumble of the planes dropping bombs off in the distance berated the survivors. Ellis nodded and holstered his gun. They stocked up on the necessary stuff and mentally prepared themselves before removing the bar to the safe house door.

Infected:

The hunter was alerted to the door bursting open. The three survivors walked out and began dropping nearby zombies. The short one with the pink shirt- that pink made him want to rip out her innards and scatter them across the world. He restrained himself though though, focusing his attention to the younger of the males. Something about him was different, something that had challenged his instincts. The hillbilly drew the hunter's attention, and ever since that face to face encounter with him he had felt an overwhelming urge. An rge that went against everything his zombie life had been till then. He wanted to protect him, make sure the man was always safe or wouldn't be harmed.

He overlooked the group and let out a snarl of disapproval as the boy was attacked by a couple of common. They got in a few good hits. He was fighting against his baser instincts. He wanted to leap forward and rip apart any infected that even considered laying a hand on him. The three began to cover more ground and the hunter followed, a silent observer travelling by roof-top.

He was fighting so hard against himself. He wanted to just get down there and protect the man, but he couldn't fight for the kid when he was struggling so hard with himself. Half of him spotted weak and easy prey; the other half was harbing forming love, a small piece of his soul seemingly still human.

The hunter was drawn out of his internal battle and faced with the one in front of him. The small boy had taken a large risk. He had wanted to check out the store nearby and had hence wandered away from the others. In an instant the grunt of a charger could be heard as it pummeled the small male. The hunter threw all of his zombie inhibitions aside. The two were shouting and firing, running toward the man in danger but they wouldn't make it in time. Incompetent humans. He leaped down and rushed towards the charger at full force, his shoulder connecting painfully to the charger.

The charger, slightly startled, released the boy and looked around, eyes narrowing on the hunter, a very confused expression on his deformed face. The hunter growled, managing to hiss out "MINE!" before leaping towards the charger, it's claws shredding into the head and killing it. He started to walk toward the hillbilly, to make sure he was okay. But the other two had caught up by then, and a bullet pierced through his shoulder. He screamed in pain, jumping away to safety. "Ellis! You okay?" the bitch screamed. Annoying voice.

Ellis... the one he had to protect was named Ellis...