Welp, the first few chapters weren't very good, so here's a TOTAL remake of them! I changed them to first person, reworked the events, and made it... make more sense in general. Worth rereading, reviews and follows appreciated!

I slowly opened my eyes to the dark room around me. I remembered being thrown in here and passing out, but that was about it.

My brain took quite a while to register where I was, and I had to think for a second before it told me I was sitting against a wall, claw marks all over it. Claw marks?
I tried getting up to get a better look at them, but my limbs were a lifetime behind, and it took forever before I could lift myself off the ground with stiff, weak muscles. As I stood up, I had to place my hand on the wall more than enough times to prevent myself from falling over until I could balance on hind legs, although it felt odd standing straight up.

After what I just went through to GET UP, I had to stop for a moment before deciding whether I should try navigating the room. But I had forgotten the difficulty I had moving, and fell over a lot trying to figure out how to get from one wall to the next.
After a bit of trial and error, I managed to walk all the way across the room on two legs. It was a pathetic pace, but anything was process. How did any of this happen?
Deciding I had tortured my back enough standing up, I fell back down onto all fours, which was definitely more comfortable. Was my spine supposed to be bent at this angle? I had thought no, but couldn't think of what my spine was supposed to look like, nor did I honestly care enough to. I crawled into a connecting room, just as dark, and grabbed a shiny white bowl that was extending out from the wall to lift myself up, making it easier to stand. Despite the darkness, I could see perfectly fine, knowing where everything was. But the stench of the bottles sitting on the opposite side of the room was just... ugh...

I groaned in disgust to this sudden enhancement to smell, but slapped a hand over my mouth. What was that?! I had made some sort of growl or something... but I DEFINITELY knew it was not normal. I sounded like an animal.

The texture of my hand made me pull it back to examine it. It was a dark gray, with sharp, pointy claws sticking out of the ends of my fingers. My feet were like that, too, although they weren't as sharp, but still...

Having enough, I crawled out of the room, searching for some other way out. When I saw the door, I knew it had to be a way out.

Now to just get it open...

How did this work? It looked like the rest of the wall, but had a circular metal thing jutting out of it. I assumed I was pretty short, and guessed the twisting thing was meant for opening and closing the door, but I guessed that it was meant for taller figures, as my teeth did nothing to help open it, and they were the only thing that could grab it. I noticed that my teeth were sharp, too, but ignored that.

I started to get frustrated, banging on the door as if it would open for me if I tried hard enough. The sound of chipping wood made me freeze. I saw the door had compressed and started to break where I hit. That was how I could get out!
Backing up, I ran towards it as I sent my clawed fist through the door, smashing it open easily. What I had not expected was the sudden burning in my eyes as light flooded into them.

I screeched as I stumbled back into the room in agony, my eyes feeling like they were ripped out. I had to find somewhere dark, where the light couldn't hurt me, and bolted under the bed.

After my eyes weren't in searing pain, I risked looking back to the light outside the door, but from the safety of below the bed. I had to squint because it was still a little bright, even from here, and realized that I'd have to get through that light to get outside. Grunting, I looked around the dark room, finding nothing. As I crawled out from under the bed, however, I felt a flap on the back of my clothing fall over my head, covering my eyes. I was startled, at first, but it started to come together.
If I can't see, that also means I can't see light. If I don't see light, then I won't be hurt by it! Of course! I squealed in delight, but already was used to my odd voice. What was this flap called, though? I tried to think of a name, but nothing came to me. Come on, THINK!

Nothing came to me, so I gave up on giving the clothing a name. Maybe somebody could help me figure out this whole mess.

The flap of clothing over my eyes, I started towards the light of the busted open door. The light seeped through under it, but it wasn't as painful. More irritating than anything. I wanted there to be NO light, however, and looked for something to help in this new room. Even though I couldn't see, I was able to sense where everything was, and didn't even trip on anything. I opened slide-out doors in the... counter, that's what it is, in the enclosed area in the corner of the room. Since I couldn't see what was actually inside the small containers, I had to feel around inside, thankful nothing sharp was in it.

My hands came across something stretchy. It felt similar to my clothing, but was smaller, and seemed to be a long, rolled up strip. I slipped back into the dark room, pulling the flap off- HOODIE, finally, I growled in my stupidity. I pulled the hood back and examined the stretchy cloth.

It was a small roll of stretchy fabric, and seemed thick enough to block off light. It was partially wrapped in a torn up, clear covering, probably torn from my claws when I found it. I slowly unrolled, and found that it was plenty long. I began to wrap it around my eyes (closing them first, of course) until they overlapped two or three times, and bit the end with my teeth. After sitting there like an idiot trying to tie it, I finally managed to do one, keeping the wrapped cloth tight.

I sat up, putting the roll of cloth in my hoodie pocket near my stomach, and cautiously stepped out. No light came through! It really worked! Overjoyed, I leaped around (I found leaping across the room easy and quite fun) until I got ahold of myself. Now I can get out of here. I put the hood back over my face, covering the wrapping so I didn't look like a monster or a crazy person.

I stepped out into the empty hallway, surprised it was so quiet. Then, a loud howl rang out, and I barely saw the huge one-armed beast slam into me, continuing to charge forward as he crashed into the wall.

Only, it wasn't a wall.

The rusted door gave away, and we fell down a square hole, crashing into the ground, hard. I had managed to land on my hands and feet, absorbing most of the fall. But the One-Armed, no matter how he landed, hit the ground, hard. Dead. I didn't realize we fell that far down.

There was another set of similar, metal doors above me on the wall of the shaft, and I had to climb up a little bit to reach it. It was partway open, so I pushed one of the sliding doors to the side, opening it up more.

The scent of death flooded my nose, and it took everything to stop me from gagging. There were bodies littered everywhere, I didn't need sight to know they were there. But another scent made it through them...
I began to follow it, curious. My stomach had started growling, and I felt my mouth watering as I stood in front of a small building. Food was inside there. And I was beyond hungry.

I smashed through the door, the glass scattering across the ground, some cut into my hands and cheek, but I ignored it. I was too focused on that food.

I searched through every shelf, but none of whatever was there smelled like the food. I heard heavy breathing behind me, and something whispered "Shit," as I turned towards the sound.

It was a person. And I wasn't sure why, but before I thought otherwise, I had pounced onto the man, tearing at his throat and chest as I devoured everything that came out. The struggling stopped, and the man - no, my food - went limp, as I continued to eat at everything in his chest. I liked the red, beating thing the best, it tasted delicious.
I wish I felt sorry for him, but instead I found it fun. There was something about hunting people down and killing them that almost... amused me.

I picked up another human scent, licking my blood-stained lips as I happily leaped towards it, ready for another fun meal.

~Katelyn~

"Lance, STOP!"

He pulled me along as he bashed the skulls in of all of the nearby zombies with his baseball bat. Lance was about a foot taller than me, expected when he's 17 and I was only 12.

Lance sighed, his grip on my wrist loosening, but he turned sharply.
"If we stop right now, that giant is going to catch us," he hissed, continuing to pull me. He was one of the jocks at his school, and even after this all happened and he found me attacked by one of the tongue-shooting zombies, he still treats me like a liability.

"Lance, the giant gave up on us 12 minutes ago, we have to be safe by now!" I yelled back. We had been going through a grocery store to find anything useful, when a huge zombie busted down the wall. I mean a HUGE zombie. Its muscles were at least three times what they should be, and it was about two feet taller than Lance. It was so big, it'd run on all fours after us like a gorilla, except gorillas don't stay up after 2 clips from our assault rifle, which Lance dropped by accident when a slab of concrete flew over our heads.

"Kate, listen, if we stop it will probably catch up to us!" he yelled, tugging at my wrist harder as we speed walked down the alley. "And we can't solve everything with jumping on walls, Freerunner."

I hated that nickname. Yes, I was very passionate for parkour, but he didn't have to brand me with it. In fact, he's only really called me Katelyn twice.

"I never said we HAD to solve everything with parkour," I said through grinding teeth, "and stop calling me that!"

"Shut the FUCK UP!" he yelled, letting go and slapping me. He had finally snapped. He shoved me to the ground, and I hit my head on the wall. I started seeing spots when he came back in my vision. "You should be thanking me for saving your ass," he hissed, kicking me in the side. "I saved you from the tongue, didn't I?"

"I... was already cutting the tongue... when it got me..." I whispered, and received another kick. The wind rushed out of me like a balloon.

"It doesn't really matter," he said calmly, and his frown turned into a cruel grin. I wasn't sure why, when I heard a low growling. It was one of the leapers...
"Ain't that a shame," he said, standing up, "I don't get to play with you," What?! "But at least you still die at the end. I'll let you chose, bat or HIM?" he asked as the leaper let out a threatening shriek. It sounded higher pitched than other leapers... but it didn't attack.

"Time's up," Lance said, and I began to panic. I swung my leg out, knocking him over as I scrambled up. There weren't as many spots in my vision, and I was able to stand straight, and bolted.

"Clever little bitch," I heard him say, "But I can outrun ya, Freerunner."

"Not how I run," I spat back, jumping onto a dumpster and running along the corner of the alley wall before dropping off, landing on the other side of the barbed fence.
Which was now separating Lance from me.

"Come on, Freerunner, you know I'll just catch you!" he said, smashing the fence with his bat. It was so rusty, the bat was easily denting the weak chain-link.
I saw the leaper above us, jumping between the two narrow walls of the buildings we were between to catch up, and it was like it was watching us.

He gave me an idea.

The fence crumbled, and Lance sprinted towards me, but I was already running at him. Then, at the last second, I turned sharply onto the wall, using my speed to dig my feet into the brick as I jumped between the narrow space. Lance looked up in awe and indescribable rage. As I neared the roof top, I was slowing down a lot, tired from jumping between such narrow walls and windowsills, an scrambled up with what momentum I had left, mantling over the edge as I barely made it.

I looked over the edge to see Lance... Smiling?

"I guess watching you die would be a bit more interesting."

What? What did he... oh no.

I forgot about the leaper, and turned sharply as he snarled at me. He was shorter than other leapers, and I noticed it was a kid. A bit younger than me even. The bloodied hoodie covered his face, but I could see his teeth bared at me. Then, he stopped. Sniffing me, he crawled closer. My heart was racing, I was sure it would burst through my rib cage.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the claws to tear my chest open, but it never came. I felt something on my hip, and opened my eyes to see him licking the wound Lance gave me. It was bleeding, and it looked like the leaper was... cleaning it.

"What the hell is going on up there?!" Lance demanded. He probably thought I killed the leaper or something, because he started climbing up the fire escape to the roof. I backed away from it, worried he'd throw the bat at me when he reached the top, and the leaper followed aside me as I went.

Lance came up, a murderous look in his eyes, but stopped when he saw the leaper.
"How... Has it not killed you yet..."

Now that he wasn't chasing me, his rage subsided, fear replacing it. Even if the leaper killed me, Lance had nothing to defend himself with if it went for him.

"Oh, fuck this!" he screamed, and he pulled something out of his pocket. A pistol. He had one the whole time?!

Without thinking, I turned around and ran across the roof. The leaper had the same idea, leaping to the next rooftop as Lance shot at where it was.

As I neared the edge of the rooftop, I saw the leaper lunge into somewhere below the roof, and I assumed it was a window. Instead of jumping the roof, I ran off the edge, kicking off the wall of the next building, just barely landing inside the window. The edge of the rooftop stuck out past the wall, and Lance couldn't see the window when he looked over.

I hid in the room as a string of curses rang out above me as Lance went back down the ladder. Now that I wasn't with him, he would fire the pistol frequently at the zombies, swearing all the way, and I didn't move away from the window until the sounds were extremely distant.

I boarded up the window with everything I could find, and curled up in the corner. I didn't like Lance as a friend or personally in any way, but he was the only person I had for protection, and now I know he was using me for extra hands to defend for him, and tried to kill me when I wasn't worth it. I was about to cry when I remembered the leaper. He was watching me, perched on a bed, the blood of what I guessed was his last victim still dripping slightly from his mouth.

"Just hurry up and kill me if you're going to!" I yelled, and he jumped back. I got up, trying to distract myself by searching around the apartment for weapons or food. The thick, red door signaled this was actually a safe room, so there must of been supplies here.

Eventually, I found a stash of ammunition, a double-barrel, three SMGs, two pre-made pipebombs, a Molotov, and an SG-552. Strange, my father had one with the same manufacturer markings. It even had the same oddly colored firing pin. After some thought, I realized this WAS my dad's SG, and this was our apartment. That means his other weapons must be here!

Sure enough, after searching around, I found them. My dad had owned a modified Glock that had a built-in laser sight under the barrel that was actually defective, and was brighter than it should be. Great for blinding attackers, unless they were zombies.
The other one was my P226 semi-auto. It had a flashlight/laser system attached under the barrel, and a match trigger that almost never failed. The slide was custom made to be faster, and could be fitted with many types of suppressors/compensators, sights, and even barrels. The gun was modified to make the bullets fly faster. A good 70% of the whole pistol was custom or even homemade. My dad could of started his own gun manufacturing business if he wanted to.

I brushed my thumb over the engraving on the slide of the P266. The Glock was made for my brother, who got evacuated, and the 266 was for me, so each one had our first name engraved onto it. 'MARC' was engraved into the edge of the Glock in my brother's rushed style, since we were allowed to engrave them ourselves, but mine was much neater, in cursive, with my name shining along the edge; one tick mark was next to it, to symbol the one major kill it made, when my dad became turned.
It was a reminder, whenever I felt guilty, that when he turned, it wasn't my dad anymore, it was just another monster.

I forgot the leaper was there again (Screw my short term memory), and was startled when I saw his head looking over my shoulder. He was wondering what I was doing, and began whining.

I knew that whine.

I turned sharply, making him jump, and looked at him.

Could it be...?

I reached my hand out towards his hood. He shrunk back, baring his teeth, but I didn't stop. I grabbed the front, and before he could do anything, I pulled it up, gasping at his face.

Jason was my best friend before this. We stuck together during the infection, until he was bit by a leaper on his birthday...

He leaped to the other side of the room, pulling the hood back over his face. "Jason?" I weakly said, and his head snapped up. He recognized it, but he looked confused, as if he wasn't sure what it meant. He had no time to react as I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug, sobbing. He didn't seem to understand, but at this point I didn't care. If he remembered me enough to not attack when he had all of these chances, then there must be a way to get the old Jason back.

When the sun started to set, I sat down on the couch to see if the TV still worked. There was electricity, but no cable, so I shut it back off. Before I went to sleep, I saw Jason pull back his hood and take off the gauze wrapped around his eyes. I was worried he'd have empty, bloody eye sockets behind them, but instead there were two round, clouded, light blue eyes. His blond hair was tangled in blood and dirt, and there was even a small patch of dried bile in his bangs. He probably ran into some interesting zombies.

Jason saw me staring, and darted out of view. I smiled to myself as I drifted off to sleep.