Thanks for the feedback, readers. Hopefully, I can get even more with this chapter. Let's see how Jody deals with her completed transformation.

Chapter Two: Family

I'm ugly...

No, I'm not just saying that like other teenagers do, for the pure sake of getting attention in the form of cheap flattery. I really am ugly. My peach skin is white, dirty and grimy. I haven't been able to shower in days, and I feel like scum for it. My fluffy auburn hair that I used to pin up with hair bows and colorful plastic clips is white, and also grimy. My claws have gotten longer since the day I was bitten. My hands are almost completely black now.

And then there are my eyes. Don't even talk to me about them. I look like some demon thrown out of the lowest levels of Hell. But no. They at least are somewhat lively. I was able to learn through a CEDA broadcast on my TV that I can pass as a rare type of Infected. That I was a Witch. And what do they show as an example? Some emotionally-distraught, anorexic-appearing woman curled up on the ground who when disturbed, loses all control on her senses. Her only purpose is to kill the one who provoked her. The one on the TV wasn't able to escape CEDA. They threw something called a pipe bomb in front of her, which went off when she was barely a foot away. They blew her up. They blew her up. My room, when I last checked, now smells like death and vomit.

I stayed in that dorm room for two days. I couldn't even think about eating, or drinking, or sleeping, or even living. Hell, I couldn't truly live anymore. I was now supposedly some rabid, monstrous creature who would soon develop the voice of a harpy and wreak havoc upon anyone to cross my path. There was no life to live for me. I just remained in that room, away from the window.

After two days, I heard the emergency exit doors to my floor of the building open, and for a split second, my heart raced. It was either a beacon of hope, or the opportunity to walk into another trap and be at CEDA's mercy. Yet, something accompanied the sound of those large metal doors being open: heavy footsteps, and a low growling sound.

I was terrified. Before I could get the opportunity to run, the door was busted open. Well, shit. I was positive that either a Horde of zombies would rush in to end me, or that even members of CEDA would come in and wipe me out. Either way, the outcome didn't seem pleasant, and I couldn't seem to put two and two together that that growl wasn't man-made. Instead of who I was expecting, two figures walked in. One of them was about my height, maybe an inch or two taller, in a hoodie and cargo pants. His ankles, wrists, and upper arms were bound with duct tape. Behind him was a creature unlike anything I had ever seen. It was a large man who struggled to even fit through the doorway. His head was human-sized, but the girth of his body was incredible. If you are desiring a visual image, think Arnold Schwarzenegger back in his body-building days pumping his chest and arm muscles full of air. His muscle mass looked as if it would envelope his head!

"Well...what do we have here?" the hooded creature asked. He had walked in somewhat crouched down, and approached me now. I whimpered and held my stuffed animal, trust Boodles, up for protection.

Wait a moment...he could talk? I had seen something like him, that day my school was attacked, and he was nothing like the beast that went feral on the CEDA officials babysitting us. They had a name for his kind, too: Hunter. The gargantuan Infected behind him was known as a Tank, considered one of the most dangerous by CEDA. I had to play things cool.

The Hunter saw my stuffed animal and chuckled with another growl, stepping closer to me. His clawed hand reached out and gently pushed Boodles away from my face. I was able to get a good glimpse of his and almost froze in place staring at him. "What? I'm not gonna hurt you," he said calmly, though his voice was incredibly scratchy. "Use your common sense, girl. Would I be socializing with you if I only mean to kill you?"

I swallowed a pool of saliva that had formed in my mouth, and slowly shook my head. "N-No, I don't think so..." I replied, the fear obvious in my squeaky voice.

"Good girl," the Hunter said, smirking. I saw his sharp teeth and shuddered. "Now, my name is Jeremy. The oaf outside in the-" He turned around and let out a short burst of laughter. "-doorway, he's a Tank. His name is-"

"Roy," the Tank finished, his voice fierce and of a rather high volume. "Why girl in room by herself?" Obviously, if you were "lucky" enough to become a Tank, your use of proper sentence structure shrank exponentially.

"Hiding." I sniffled and held onto Boodles for dear life.

"As you should be." Jeremy gave one curt nod and tried to stand up straight, though he appeared to struggle with breaking out of his crouching habit. "But, miss... Wait, what is your name?"

"Jody."

"Jody, CEDA could easily come into this building, hunt you out and kill you. It's already under quarantine. That damn organization will either blow up quarantine buildings, or go in with Hazmat suits and search every room. Then again, that usually ends up with them being obliterated, too..." The Hunter's dark eyes wandered back down to me, and his expression softened when he saw me losing what little "cool" I had left.

"You scaring her!" The Tank known as Roy let out a huff of air in agitation. I was glad he was on my side.

"Yeah, I thought as much..." Sighing, Jeremy pushed his hood off his head and ran his claws in exasperation through his shaggy black hair. "Sorry, it's just hard to stay one-hundred percent positive during times like these."

I nodded, my body uncurling from the ball it once formed. "I guess you're right."

"Well, Jody, seeing as how you are on your own, and you're best if you travel with a group that can protect you until you can fend for yourself, I suggest you come with me and Roy. The ordinary Infected aren't the smartest things though they know we're among their kind, and they'll easily attack you for food. We can fend them off." Then he held out his hand to me. "C'mon."

And, of course, that's when the Jody who refused to be a baby any longer had a question. "Wait a damn minute," I said, placing Boodles on the bed and standing up. "You come waltzing into my dorm room and offer me protection, and after a few minutes of socializing you expect me to trust you and immediately team up with you? How do I know that you don't have a Horde waiting outside the building for me? And another thing: how the hell did you know I was here? It's like you just came up onto my floor and barged into the room.

Jeremy growled a sigh and hung his head at a slight angle, before one of his claws pointed toward the window. I could have smacked myself in the head when I noticed that it was open. Not enough for someone to fit, but enough for me to notice that it was cracked a decent amount. "The sound of your crying can travel up to an acre," the Hunter explained. "Roy and I were passing by, patrolling the area, and we heard you. Yet at the same time, we heard actual words of the English language mixed into your sobs, and I was curious, so we came to investigate. And so, here we are now."

I could only sigh and rest my face in my palm, careful of my elongated claws. "I can't believe I left my window open."

"Well, it's a good thing that you did. Now, come on. Unless you want to be staring down the barrel of a gun belonging to a CEDA official."

That seemed to be all the motivation I needed. Picking up Boodles, I put on a pair of my canvas boots and followed the Hunter out, after he helped force Roy out of the door frame again. I hadn't noticed the sounds he cause it to make as it cracked due to the pressure of his body mass.

"Girl come with us?" he asked me as I exited with the two of them, heading back toward the exit.

"Yes, Roy. Girl is gonna come to the base with us." The Hunter smiled kindly at his friend. "Lucky for you, the area is clear of any Infected. There are just a few piles of bodies, but you'll have to get used to them. Those will be everywhere you go. On the way, I suppose I can tell you a bit about how my friend and I got into our predicament. Maybe we could help you, and explain to you why you're a Witch and not either dead or a common zombie. How about that...?"

And that, my friends, was it. For the next twelve days, I was under the constant supervision of Jeremy and Roy, as well as a rather familiar-looking Infected. It was the same kind that bit me: a Smoker. I had to admit, I was terrified of him for three full days before I could see that he meant me no harm. His name was Ryan, and he was usually in charge of going out to get provisions for our group, which hid out on the upper level of a deserted, and rather fancy, apartment complex. Meat was a forbidden option, since it couldn't be cooked and, according to Jeremy, raw meat had the same effect on an Infected as an open wound on a human body did.

I was almost in utter shock how educated Jeremy was, though his temper did get in the way of me admiring him. He sometimes broke into violent rages, ranting about the smallest things, and Roy would have to escort me out. When he was calm, however, he was rather kind and did his best in educating me on what he believed to be true about the Infected. From what he told me, his claims seemed pretty valid.

"Now listen, tenderfoot." He seemed to love that nickname for me. "I think it'd be best if you knew all about the other Infected as well as yourself. You might just survive longer. Anyway, all 'Special Infected,' as CEDA calls us, are created depending on certain criteria. This list is a big lot of hoopla, but it makes quite a bit of sense if you take a look at myself, Roy, and Ryan. All who catch the Green Flu are destined to lose control to the effects, and then eventually die from it. However, we suffer from it over a longer period of time than common Infected, too. Our lifespan is much longer than a common Infected, and the disease takes longer to fully take advantage of our bodies. You, tenderfoot, just happen to be a carrier, as are the rest of the little troupe we have here..."

Jeremy went on for hours about his observations and knowledge, and I listened to every word, just like a young boy being taught to shoot a BB gun for the first time. He told me all he knew about the disease, and how carriers became what they became in regards to 'Special Infected.' Hunters, like him, are created from men who suffer from severe emotional outbursts, such as anger. That definitely helped to explain Jeremy's fierce temper. High blood pressure can also cause a carrier to become a Hunter.

Smokers were created from - you guessed it - smokers! Anyone with tobacco or certain other drugs in their systems underwent painful coughing spells when being first infected, an easy indicator of what their fate would be. Ryan had smoked cigarettes, Cuban cigars, and the occasional ounce of marijuana for years, so it was obvious that this role was made for him. Female Smokers were extremely rare to see, since the Infection had a knack for taking their gender out first.

Tanks were created out of aggressive men with relatively large body masses. I learned later that Roy was a man trained to fight in mixed martial arts competitions, and he was a fantastic fighter at that. Now, he was so strong, he could easily lift a car, or pull a piece of concrete right from the ground. I had to admit, that scared the living daylights out of me.

Boomers, a type I had never heard about, were created from those who were overweight. They were extremely common in the world of Infected, and to tell you the truth, devout reader, with the amount of obesity in the world, I didn't doubt that for a bit. It was strange that it took me a week into my turning to see one for myself. Apparently, not only can gunshots cause them to explode, but they can cause themselves to do it as well. How lovely...

Jeremy went on to explain the other types of Infected - Spitters, and Jockeys, and maybe two others that I can't remember - before he focused on me. According to him, I was extremely lucky to even be alive with what he called the "Witch's Curse." Only females could become Witches, but most either blended into the Common Infected, died too quickly, or were killed off too easily. A rare amount were still around to let the disease fester within them. And all of them always seemed to be found in their bras and panties. Why? The longer you are a Witch, the higher your internal body temperature becomes. Plain and simple: it's a method to keep from overheating.

Witches are usually detected by the sounds of their crying, and they will lash out at anyone who provokes them. Yeah, I've heard that one, Jeremy.

"But, why do they cry?"

"Well, I'd assume they're afraid of their fate. They are slowly dying, but when a human comes across them, they are strangely more intimidated by the barrel of a gun than slowly dying on their own. After they wipe out the unlucky human, they run for dead life."

Now, I bet you must be wondering why I am so blase about knowing that I will soon face death. Yet, think of it in this light: my parents have disappeared and are possibly dead, my friends are either dead or have been snared in the Green Flu's grasp, any hopes of the life I wanted to live since I was younger have been dashed in just a short amount of time, and to top it all off, I look like something straight out of a Rob Zombie horror movie. No pun intended in regards to the name.

So, tell me: faced with these circumstances, would you honestly want to stay alive? Would you still have hope that you'd be saved, even though you are virtually alone and any possible treatment or cure is in CEDA's clenched hands?

I thought not.

And trust me, dear reader, my story has barely begun. I have given you enough information to continue on your own. All I can ask is that you not pity me, because that never cured or helped anyone...