Third
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He had been traveling for three days now, and so far almost everything had left him alone. So far. He decided that sleeping high in the treetops was the best options, for although the "Infected" –for that's what they were called, according to the posters- could jump and climb, he could probably climb higher. As he was nearing a forest that bordered a swamp, this wasn't such an issue. The trees were quite high, and he was confident that he could climb one. Doubtless he was strong enough- he'd covered more ground than he'd thought even possible, hardly tiring at all. Unfortunately, this had taken a toll on his metabolism, and he was running extremely low on food. He'd have to search for some more soon, if the pangs in his stomach meant anything.
He had also taken to traveling by night and sleeping during the day. The sunlight was stinging his eyes too badly, and besides- he could see in the dark. On the first day of travel, there were many abandoned buildings around, which strangely enough held a remarkably few amount of the Infected. He had dropped almost immediately in one of them after fleeing the "hospital", although for some reason he could not fall asleep in the bed. Rather, he found himself crawling under it, ripping off the sheets and blankets to use as bedding. It felt weird, yet oddly comforting, despite the dust bunnies and groaning floorboards. He had felt secure.
He made sure to raid the house before leaving, but most of the food would either spoil quickly or was too heavy to be lugging around. He had had a hearty breakfast, though (nearly cleaning out the entire fridge), and was lucky enough to find a pistol and ammo in one of the drawers. He decided to take that with him, in case too many Infected attacked at once; he had been lucky at the hospital.
Yet by the end of the first day – or actually, night- he had run to the edge of town, straight into a wall. Literally, a huge, thick concrete wall stood in front of him, barbwire lining the top. It went as far as Connelly's eyes could see, and he didn't feel like walking all the way around to see where it ended. Most likely, it encircled the town.
Luckily, a roof of a nearby house had been close enough for him to attempt the jump. Getting to the roof had been no problem- he had made it to the second story window in one jump, and from there pushed himself up. The span from the roof to the wall was about fifteen feet across, including the barb wire. He doubted he'd want to land on that, either. Starting from the opposite end, he took a running jump and sprung from the roof, arms outstretched, almost flying through the air- only to violently get pulled back, as if tied to a rubber band.
Something had lashed itself around his torso, and was pulling him across the roof, his skin dragging against the tiles. It was thick and strong like a vise, pinning one of his arms to his sides. It was also prickling hot against his hypersensitive skin, burning to the touch. As he drew closer to its source, he let out a shudder of disgust- it was a tongue. A long, slimy tongue, belonging to an Infected. But this one was unlike the others, for it seemed taller, and cancerous bulbs of pus grew out of its face and claws, dripping and almost seeming to throb. Spores swarmed around the top of its head, whose source seemed t becoming from its mouth; as if to prove this, it let out a cough, before its tongue tightened on the hunter and it began tearing at him with its claws, snarling.
Letting out a defensive snarl of his own, Connelly fought back with his one remaining set of claws, tearing into the slimy, reeking flesh. Although slippery, it tore easily under attack, reeking blood splattering the boy's face. The Coughing Thing fought back, though his attacks were weaker, barely sinking into Connelly's flesh. What was left of the muscle continued to tighten, and soon he was seeing dark spots along his field of vision. Nevertheless, he continues to attack, until at last he severed the cord and rolled away from his attacker. Shrugging the heavy thing off of himself, he winced as his newly-freed arm flopped and prickled, numb and useless for the time being. Yet time was of the essence here, as his adversary had not given up yet. It lunged at him, and although the hunter tried to dodge the attack, he was already exhausted. Caught under the heavy bulk of the Smoker, he weakly tried to fend off its attacks, the spores stinging his eyes, his vision already dimming. It weight was crushing his ribs as he struggled to breathe, as even its weak attacks were starting to make a mark.
There was a sudden, territorial snarl, and the weight was abruptly lifted from his chest. Something else was attacking the Smoker now, tearing deeply into its flesh almost angrily, territorial screams bursting from its lips. It wore similar apparel to the boy, its hood pulled down over its face, hiding most of its feature. With a small whimper Connelly crawled away, unwilling to face the victor. He forced himself to muster enough strength to leap over the wall, adrenaline pounding through his blood. Yet the fastest escape couldn't have stopped him from glancing back, and he deeply regretted doing so. He had glimpsed the face under the hood, with the same red rings around its eyes, and just a hint of what seemed to be a smirk on its blood-stained lips.
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Since that time, he had moved as quickly as possible, eager to get as far fucking away from that town as possible. He cursed himself for not thinking of using the gun, which had been at his hip the whole goddamn time. Perhaps if he had used it, the other hunter wouldn't have come. Connelly couldn't exactly place as to why he was so afraid of it, but the look it had given him had sent shivers down his spine.
Presently, he was standing at the base of a large tree in the middle of a forest, which bordered a swamp. He figured he could use his claws as anchors in order to climb to the lowest hanging branch, which wasn't that low at all- about twenty feet up. Staring at his hand, he willed his claws to extend themselves. He glared to no avail, and soon tried flexing his fingers, even mimicking the swipe of a cat. For ten agonizing minutes he tried every technique he could think of, all bearing no fruit. Letting out a low growl of frustration, he punched the trunk of the tree, which did nothing but send a shooting pain up his arm. Howling in pain, he clutched his fingers and took a deep breath. Obviously, he'd have to find another way.
Slipping off his shoes, he clenched the laces in his mouth and he bent his knees, springing up from the ground with all of his strength. He sailed upward in that one bound, easily catching himself onto the branch, his claws now blessedly extended once more. He moved more on instinct now, hopping from branch to branch with the agility of a cat, and sinking his claws into the trunk to hoist himself up. These movements were done thoughtlessly; Connelly caught his mind wandering more than once, and a particular careless move almost cost him his grip and had him plummet below.
Finally, he reached a suitable high with branches both sturdy and close enough that he could lie down across them without fear of slipping through the gaps. The need for rest was strong on his mind, overpowering even the now constant gnawing he felt in his stomach. He fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.
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She spotted him. Relief flooded her face for an instant before He was running running running with the rest of his pack, screaming at He ignored the squirming prey beneath him as he dug his claws deeper Blood spurted out, he sank his teeth Ripping, tearing, he brought his claws across its mouth again Mindlessly swallow oh god it tastes so good so good ohgodohgodohgod why Snap its bones Why won't it stop screaming why won't it stop screaming WhywontitstopstopstopstopSTOP-
He woke immediately to the sound of a gunshot. His sensitive ears started to ring as he was startled out of his slumber, the daylight almost blindingly bright. With a hiss, he covered his eyes with his arm, clenching them shut as he pulled the hood over his face. Glancing downward, he saw a pair of men under his tree, carrying packs and what appeared to be shotguns. They were burly and held humorless expressions, as they looked upward, staring right back at him.
"Fuck, I missed 'im."
"Great job, Joe, yah retard," the other sneered, "now it's awake. Let me finish this, will yah?"
"I can do it!" Protested the one called Joe, once again aiming at Connelly. With a spasm of fear, the hunter quickly scuttled out of range, hopping down to a lower branch. His hunger pangs hurt worse than ever, reminding him it had been two days since he had last eaten.
"Shit, now it's going to attack."
"I told you to let me do it!"
"Will you shut the fuck up so I can finish this?"
Once again taking aim, Joe fired directly at the Infected, the bullet whizzing pass Connelly's ear. With a surprised yelp, the boy lost his grip on his branch and well down the rest of the way, painfully hitting the ground on his side before rolling into a defensive crouch, eyes narrowed in anger. The twosome couldn't help but snicker.
"What a clumsy Hunter," sneered the one still unnamed, grabbing the gun from Joe's grip. "I guess he deserves this-"
His sentence was cut short as Connelly pounced, knocking the man to the ground. Struggling against him, the man attempted to assault him with his fists, which the hunter carelessly knocked aside before slamming his head into the ground. A sickening crack was heard as blood and brains splattered onto the ground from the man's head. A pool of blood quickly formed, and Connelly's sense of smell kicked into hyperactive overdrive, his stomach roaring for food. The sound of a gun being loaded forced him to freeze, and slowly, he turned around to face the other Survivor, who held another gun in his hands. A sharp pain exploded in Connelly's shoulder before he had any time to react, and with a cry of pain he fell backwards onto the ground. Clutching his shoulder, he stared up into the human's fearful, yet determined eyes, and at the gun ready to shoot again. The pain was sending him reeling, yet he knew the words must be forced out.
"Do you think," snarled Connelly, "You can please stop doing that, asshole?"
The split second of confusion and hesitation caused from the talking Infected was all that the hunter needed. With a lunge, the remaining human was down, the gun safely out of his grip. He could hear the frantically beating heart of the human under his claws, and smell of fear that surrounded him as the Survivor struggled under his grip. All that he remembered was his hunger, and all he could smell was the scent of human sweat as he forgot himself, sinking his teeth deep into his prey's throat. The human let out a gurgled scream before falling back, the dead weight heavily hitting the ground. Blood sprayed into his mouth and down his throat as the human heart beat its last, the taste sweet and intoxicating to him. Maybe I just can't eat human flesh that's already been eaten, he though, his teeth continuing to tear into Joe's throat as he ripped off a chunk of meat.
There was contentment as he swallowed for maybe a minute, before his stomach once again rejected his fill and was forced to expel it. Leaning over onto the grass, he let out a cough as the last of it left him. Apparently, he was still intolerant. Growling, he raked his claws down the copse's chest, disgusted at the useless, delicious meat. He hooked his thumb claw under the rib cage and thrust his hand upward, cracking fragile bones as blood splattered against his lips, nauseatingly tantalizing.
The rage was short-lasting. Connelly suddenly felt himself pinned to the ground, a figure leering over him. It had happened so fast that the pain in his shoulder hadn't registered until that moment, the exploding throbs numbing his mind. The figure above him grinned a familiar grin, and panic seized Connelly in its grip. Paralyzed in fear, he stared up at a hunter, a rabid one whose claws dug into his wrists. Gulping air in quick gasps, he braced himself for inevitable impact, its sharp claws raking down his throat and chest, quickly demolishing him as he himself had just done seconds earlier to the human.
Instead, it simply sat there patiently on top of him, as if waiting for Connelly to regain himself. His breath becoming slightly less erratic, his heart slowly beat him back to calmness. He started upward at it, and almost familiar…that same smirk as before, the hollow cheekbones, the dark green sweatshirt. Black bangs now hung out of his hood as he lay parallel over Connelly, victorious. It was the same hunter as before, the one which had saved him from the smoker. Tentatively, he let out a sniff.
"…You're like me," he said, surprised.
"Oh, very good," said the other, sarcastically, as if praising a slow child, "So you're not completely useless."
Connelly let out a sharp snarl before pushing the other off of him and quickly spring up to full height. It sat in a crouch and stared up at him from beneath its hood, looking amused. The blonde felt loathing crawl along his veins, or perhaps it was simply testosterone- they were both territorial males, after all. The other, although clearly in a defensive posture, seemed almost relaxed. Clearly used to being the dominant and Alfa male, he non-chalantly licked a claw, while keeping an eye on the younger male out of the corner of his eye. Connelly immediately hated him and his smug attitude, this male's ultimate certainty that he would be victorious over anyone else. Unable to take the silently glaring contest any longer, he snapped:
"I killed these two, didn't I? Didn't see you anywhere to help-"
"I wanted to see what you could do," he cut in smoothly, standing up into a slouch and stuffing his claws into his pockets. "Nice landing, by the way. Same par as a boomer."
Sensing that this was an insult, Connelly turned away. He didn't need this asshole. Showing his back turned out to be a mistake, and earned another pinning to the ground. Another burst of pain came from his injured shoulder, and it took all of his will not to cry out. He would show no weakness. He could feel the other hunter's hot breath in his ear, and the smirk that probably came with it. Connelly didn't really start to struggle until he felt his shirt being stripped off.
"Hey…hey! What the fuck you-"
"Oh, quit screaming like a little girl and sit still," the hunter purred, "You're still bleeding from that bullet wound. Do you want to die?"
In truth, he had only raised both layers up to shoulder level to check the wound, but it still bothered Connelly excessively. To have another male act dominant over him was humiliating. It may be slightly bigger, but this wasn't a fair fight. He was sure he could win if attacking head on, instead of surprised and weakened, and the unsaid taunt from before about dominance was now being brought to action. And what made it worse was that it was this hunter, though he wasn't sure why- simply the thought of this particular hunter dominating him made his stomach twist in disgust. His claws, which had been let go so that the hunter could treat the wound, now sunk into the ground, gripping it. He could feel the blood rushing up to his face and flushing his torso out of shame. He wanted to die.
After fifteen agonizing minutes, it was over. Luckily, Joe had been as bad an aim as ever on his final shot, and so the bullet had barely penetrated. The other hunter had lazily ambled over to the still fresh meat and was now gorging himself, barely sparing his companion a glance. As if he were no longer of any importance. But curiosity got the best of him and Connelly quit his sulking and sat up, watching him.
"You can eat that?"
"You can't?" asked the other in surprise. He shook his head sadly. "Oh, my little pup, Isaak has so much to teach you."
"Teach what? I'm intolerant," he replied with great ignition, his tone of voice indeed taking on the quality of a whining child. " And I'm not a fucking pup-"
Isaak merely ignored him and turned back to his meal. "Well," he said between mouthfuls, blood dripping down his chin, "you'll have to join my pack, in any case."
Connelly raised his eyebrow. "Pack?"
"Yes, that would be only me at the time being. Still, you're more helpless than a little human girl without a gun" –here he licked his lips at the thought, his eyes bearing down on the blonde- "so you'll need protection."
"No thanks."
The answer was unbearably blunt, an insult, the tone suggesting that the older male lacked competence and was a thing to be mocked. Nevertheless Isaak smiled, revealing a set of sharp teeth, although it didn't reach is eyes. "Hunters travel in packs," he said coolly.
Tidbits and flashbacks ran through his mind. He didn't want them to, didn't want to remember the blood running down his palms and the clawing and the screaming and the look in her eyes when she-
"Maybe I'm less of a hunter than you think," Connelly snapped, turning his back once more and sprinting away, agilely dodging and jumping over fallen logs and foliage. This time, Isaak didn't stop him.
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By the end of the week, Connelly had discovered that he could still eat animal flesh, such a deer. Deer were especially fun to hunt, and the hunter could still have the thrill of killing something. Isaak's taunts still rang in his ears about being helpless, and he was determined to prove him wrong, even if the guy was a huge dick. The bullet wound had since healed, much quicker than it should have, and so nothing was really stopping him. He currently crouched in the bushes, perfectly still, waiting to catch a wandering doe. He hind claws curled in anticipation.
What he wasn't expecting was for something to ambush him as he made a move to reveal himself, for a swarm of about twenty infected soon surrounded him. Remembering the pistol this time, he landed about seven headshots before running out of ammo, reeking, almost black blood spraying his face and hoodie. Swearing loudly, he ended up beating the rest to death with the gun, too impatient with their howls of hunger and gapping mouths to bother taking time to reload. The heavy piece of metal bashed into sick, weak flesh easily, sometimes sinking through half a body and needing to be pulled out, dragging still-beating organs with it. As the last one fell, he was about to finish up and lick his claws clean when he heard a gasp behind him. His senses hyper tense, he whirled around with a low snarl.
"That was awesome," the boy said, slinging his gun over his shoulder with a grin, "I was about to actually shoot you- no offence, but you're dressed mightily close to one of them crazy-legs- but you totally beat those mothers down! Reminds me of that time me an' my buddy Keith- but never you mind about that." The boy drew closer and stuck out his hand.
"I'm Ellis! Pleasure to meet."
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Sorry about not updating in awhile –school and all- but I'll try to pick up the pace. Hope you enjoyed!
Edited for detail :p
