Chapter 2:
I felt myself being jostled awake as my senses came flooding back. The first one to arrive was a stinging pain in my wrist, reminding me to get that bandaged as soon as possible. The second, a chill that, while not uncommon in this weather, seemed unnatural given the thick hoodie I was wearing. Finally, a strange sensation in my legs, like a burning pain gained from a severe workout. I opened my eyes slowly, showing me that it was Zoey who had woken me up. She looked concerned, one hand on my shoulder and the other clutching her remaining pistol. Behind her I spotted the others, Louis giving me a look of concern while Bill and Francis were rooting through the table littered with supplies. I felt a slight shake in my shoulder and realized that Zoey had asked me a question, my fading into consciousness having blocked it out.
"What?" I asked blearily, lifting a hand up to clutch my now pounding head.
"I said are you okay? We lost you for a minute there." She then directed her gaze to my arm, noticing the bloodstained cuff of my sweatshirt, and asked, "What's that, were you hurt?" She then reached up to grasp my arm, but I tugged it away, wincing at the sudden movement, before replying, "I'm fine, just grazed my arm on the scaffold."
I don't know why I lied, but the words were out of my mouth before I could think. Zoey seemed unconvinced, but didn't pursue the subject. Instead, she took out a medkit, and cracked the zipper open, saying, "Well alright, but you still need to be patched up. That jumping one cut you up pretty bad. Let me see."
She moved forward again, but I stopped her, snatching the medkit away, "I can do it." I said quickly, before getting slowly to my feet. Despite the burning pain, my legs weren't weak. To the contrary, it felt as though I had toned the muscles in my sleep, the pain having faded way to nothing within moments. Zoey cocked an eyebrow at my reaction, but simply nodded and went to the table to gather supplies with Bill and Francis.
Louis then stepped forward, saying, "Hey man, I just wanted to say thanks for saving my ass back there. That thing would have torn me a new one if it weren't for you." I smiled, and turned to Louis, saying, "It was nothing, just don't expect me to take a beating for you every time you run off like an idiot." We shared a laugh, before Louis' frowned, "Are you sure you're okay? It looked like that Hunter got you pretty bad." I looked at him confused. "Hunter?" I questioned, cocking an eyebrow of my own. Louis shrugged, and said, "I don't know, man. Did you see that thing? Hunter just seems to fit."
I thought back to the creature, how it had stalked Louis, waiting for the moment to strike. "Yeah." I breathed, looking away. Louis, sensing the conversation was over, nodded and walked away to join the others. Once I was certain that all eyes were away from me, I turned my back on them, before slowly and painfully pulling up the arm of my sweatshirt. One glance at the wound was enough to know it was bad. Already it was turning a sickly shade of yellow, all except for the center, which was a deep crimson. I quickly retrieved some gauze from the medkit, wrapping it around the wound until it was hidden from view.
Satisfied that my bite was hidden, I snipped the end off the gauze and tied the bandage tight. I then removed my sweatshirt and the long-sleeved shirt beneath. Looking down at my chest, I gasped. The Hunter, as Louis had called it, had torn several long (but thankfully shallow) gashes across my chest. What shocked me was that the gashes were also a putrid-looking yellow. I stole a glance back at the others, but they were thankfully distracted sorting through the ammo, allowing me to quickly bandage my chest without them noticing my wounds.
Slipping my clothes back on I grabbed my rifle and headed towards the table. As I approached Francis looked up at me and let out a chuckle. "So, Sleeping Beauty's ready to join us huh?" He quipped snidely. I calmly flipped him the bird, which only seemed to make his grin wider, before beginning to root through the piles of shells. Any 30-30s and .357s I claimed for myself, knowing that the others used neither type of ammunition. Bill claimed the 5.56mm rounds for his rifle, Louis the 9mm, and Zoey the .45 caliber rounds, while Francis took any 12-gauge shells for himself. After a few minutes, the pile was empty, save for a few 20 gauge shells, some .44 magnum bullets, and, amazingly, a 40mm grenade. Francis had wanted to take the thing with us, but Bill had argued about the extra weight, as well as the impossible odds of finding a compatible launcher.
Fully loaded, we began to make our way towards the door into the building whose roof we were on, but stopped as a familiar chopping sound cut through the air. Looking up, we saw that the helicopter had returned, and was now flying among the buildings, as a megaphone blasted the message, "To anyone who can hear this, proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation! Repeat, proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation!" It then flew off, no doubt to spread its message elsewhere.
"Well, we now have a destination." Bill said, before looking towards the center of town, where Mercy Hospital could clearly be seen towering over all surrounding buildings in the area. Louis looked contemplative for a moment, before proclaiming, "The Red Line should take us straight to Mercy Hospital." Knowing Louis' knack for the inner systems of the city, we nodded as a group, and moved toward the door.
It opened up into a staircase leading into the building, with a single infected at the base of the stairs. Without hesitating Bill lifted his rifle, pumping a single round into the zombie's skull before it could react, as he thundered down the stairs, the rest of us in tow. The stairs opened up into a dingy looking kitchen, and I realized we were in an apartment building. In the adjacent living room were six infected, and Francis managed to blow away one with his shotgun before we were spotted. As soon as the shotgun blasted the unfortunate infected however, the others immediately reacted, throwing themselves at us with single-minded fury. As one we all raised our weapons and fired, each of us cutting down an infected before they got within reach of us. As the last infected fell to the floor, courtesy of a trio of bullets from Louis, we proceeded to the next flight of stairs.
This soon led us to a similar apartment, except for the gaping hole in the kitchen wall leading to the next room. Around it was a cluster of five infected, which we quickly cut down. Jumping through the hole, we then moved into the next room, a kitchen similar to the previous two, except now the entire floor was missing from it. We cautiously crept up to the hole, and I moved forward to look inside. There, at the bottom of the hole, was a pile of bodies. At least ten corpses, all spread out around the room.
Fighting the urge to retch, I turned towards the others, and said, "Looks like this is the only way down, but I think that's the ground floor." The others nodded, and we stepped up to the edge of the hole. Louis and Francis jumped down first, and once they were clear, Zoey and I followed. I leapt from the edge, carefully landing so as not to slip on one of the bodies, and looked over to see Zoey had managed to land successfully as well. Suddenly, a strong odor assaulted my senses, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. The smell was awful, like cigarettes mixed with mold and decaying flesh. Then, we heard a loud yell from above us, and I caught sight of Bill's boot disappearing from the ledge before he was gone completely. "Bill!" I shouted, hoping he had only slipped, but received no answer, only the sound of something heavy being dragged.
Instinctively I coiled my legs and leapt upward, reaching towards the ledge so I could haul myself up. What I did not expect was to shoot up like a rocket, clearing the ledge and landing heavily on the floor, one story up. Dazed from the landing, I marveled at my own ability. I had jumped ten feet straight up! I had no time to dwell on my newfound abilities, however, as I heard a muffled yell, as well as a hacking cough.
I rose to my feet and sprinted toward the noise, screwing my nose up in disgust as the odor became progressively worse. I followed the sounds around a corner, and found my goal.
Thrashing about in front of me were two figures. One, the cursing, punching form of Bill. The other, a familiar tall, lanky figure, wrapped in green smoke with an absurdly long tongue, which was currently wrapped around Bill's chest, squeezing like a python. I quickly brought my rifle to bear, but Bill's frantic motions caused him to constantly block my shot. "Damn it." I cursed, before slipping my rifle back in its sling. I advanced on the struggling pair, and drew my switchblade from my pocket, flicking it open with practiced ease. I quickly circled around Bill and the Infected, searching for an opening in the thrashing mass. Finally, I saw one. Bill had finally managed to pull away from the creature, and its tongue was pulled taut between the two. I rushed forward and brought the blade down hard on the rope-like protrusion, stabbing it to the hilt in the purple flesh. The Infected gave a gasp of pain, and instinctively reared back, its slackening tongue dropping Bill in the process. Seizing this opportunity I drew my revolver and centered it on the Creature's head, then pulled the trigger.
Immediately I recognized my mistake, as the Infected erupted in a cloud of acrid green smoke. The smell that had been strong before was overpowering now, and I quickly fell to the ground gasping. Bill lay on his hands and knees beside me, drawing in as much air as he could get through the smoky haze, as I slowly pulled myself to my feet. Stumbling over to Bill I grasped the tongue of the creature. It was slimy, like a great purple snake, and strangely warm. Fighting back revulsion, I gave it a good yank, and the tongue slid off, falling to the floor in a tangled heap. Bill, now free from the tongue's burden, slowly got to his feet, sucking in large lungful's of air between coughs. Bracing myself against the wall, I fought to catch my breath as the smoke slowly dissipated.
Finally, the air was clear, and after getting a fresh breath in my lungs, I looked up to find that Bill had instead lapsed into a coughing fit. Making my way back over to him I gave him a hard slap on the back, helping him expel the last of the noxious gas from his lungs. Now free of the toxic smoke, Bill took in a great shuddering breath, gulping at the air greedily until his breathing returned to normal. When we'd both managed to recover, he looked up to me and muttered "Thanks, kid." I smiled, and replied, "No problem, but lets avoid those things next time, they seem to like you." We chuckled, and I stepped over to the corpse of the creature, yanking my knife from its tongue and wiping it on the zombie's ragged jeans before clicking it shut and pocketing it.
We then proceeded back around the corner and to the hole, Bill retrieving his gun from where it had fallen on the way. As we approached the hole, I caught sight of Francis, Zoey, and Louis waiting at the bottom. Upon seeing us, grins appeared on each of their faces. Louis cheered, Zoey let out a breath she must have been holding since I left, and Francis gave an approving nod.
Bill jumped down the hole first this time, and I followed quickly, before any other surprises could show up. Zoey walked up to us, relief and worry framing her features, and said, "What happened? Are you two alright?" I gave her a (hopefully) reassuring smile, and replied, "Yeah Bill got snatched by another one of those long-tongued things." I paused, before adding, "We really should come up with a name for them." Francis stepped forward, grinning, and said, "How about Smokers? They seem to love Bill." He threw a sneer at the veteran, who responded with a simple "Shut up Francis." I pondered the name for a moment, before nodding, "Actually that kinda fits, but anyway the Smoker grabbed Bill, so I jumped up and got him." Louis cocked an eyebrow at me, before saying, "Yeah, man how did you do that, anyway? You jumped a whole floor like it was nothing!" I winced, as the others turned to look at me as well. Bill was confused, having been "preoccupied" at the time. Zoey looked worried, all relief gone from her face and replaced by a curious anxiety. Louis looked genuinely curious, one eyebrow raised and his head cocked slightly to the side. Francis, however, was leering at me. He looked almost... accusing? I scanned each of their faces for a moment longer. I gulped, my throat suddenly dry.
"Um. I don't know, Adrenaline?" I suggested weakly, shrugging as noncommittally as I could.
They didn't buy it.
"You're expectin' me to believe that you could jump ten feet in the air off an adrenaline rush?" Francis growled, fixing me with a dark, piercing stare. I instinctively shrank back in response. "Um... Yeah?" Francis scoffed, and leaned in close to me, "Why don't you tell us what's really goin' on." He growled, his face inches from mine. I suddenly got a whiff of his breath, and fought the urge to gag. It smelled like stale beer and gunpowder, as if he'd been eating shotgun shells.
The odor vanished, however, as Francis was pulled away by Bill, who stepped between us, glaring at each of us in turn. "Jesus Christ, is now really the time? We can argue about this when we aren't fighting for our lives."
Francis looked ready to argue, but upon seeing the warning in the old man's expression he backed off, shooting me a glare before turning to the others. "Fine. Let's get to the safe house." He pushed past them, towards a large hole in the wall that led to the apartment's exit. The others gave me a quick glance, then followed.
I stood there for a moment, pondering the significance of what had just occurred. Francis was right, I had jumped ten feet in the air. No amount of natural stimulant could produce that. I glanced down at my legs, finally allowing the burning sensation they had been giving off to pierce my consciousness. It felt similar to the burn I felt after working out in a gym, an admittedly rare occurrence for me. I shrugged absentmindedly. Whatever it was, it helped me save Bill, so it couldn't be too bad. I drew my rifle, cocked it, and moved to follow the others.
We made our way through a destroyed wall and back out into the alley we had been fighting through previously. The Tank's corpse lay where it had fallen, a sizable crater surrounding it. Francis sauntered over to the corpse and placed his shotgun's barrel against its forehead, before pulling the trigger.
I jumped along with Zoey and Louis as the Tank's head exploded in a shower of gore. Francis turned back to us and, noting our shocked expressions, huffed, "What?" He said incredulously. "With that thing, it's best to make sure its dead, don't want it coming back to pound us later." Bill, of all people, nodded in agreement, before motioning us to follow him as he advanced through the alley.
We got lucky, and only a few infected populated the alleyway, allowing us to make our way through it with ease. At the end of the alley sat a parked police cruiser, a single pistol lying on its hood, and an unfortunate officer painting the front seats and windshield. Walking up to the car, Bill took the pistol, checked its magazine, and, satisfied, turned to Zoey, offering it to her. She accepted it gratefully, and Bill nodded once in response. He then shouldered his rifle and took the lead as the alleyway opened up onto the main street.
The street was in horrible disrepair. Fires were scattered along the buildings and road, most likely caused by the nearby crashed tanker truck, and corpses were scattered everywhere. Thankfully though, most of the lingering infected were behind a thick metal barricade that had been set up to our left, leaving only a few lingering infected to mill about the area. If we were careful, the infected on the other side wouldn't notice us as we dispatched their fellows, and even if they did, the time it took for them to climb the fence would give us the option to simply run for it. We moved down the street as one unit, Francis now at the head, ready to blast any infected that got within range, while Bill and I took up the sides, picking off any infected that happened to look in our direction. The gunshots did attract some attention, but what infected did react were quickly cut down by Zoey and Louis, who were bringing up the rear.
As we turned the corner, we finally spotted it, the subway station. It was lit up like a beacon of hope, illuminating the glorious image of a safehouse signal emblazoned on the walls of the stairs. Every member of our group let out a simultaneous sigh of relief, and we quickened our pace, dispatching any infected that got in our way.
As we made our way forward, I caught sight of a lone infected stumbling about near a parked car. Francis stopped and raised his shotgun to eliminate it, when I made a discovery that made my blood run cold. The car was alarmed, a softly pulsing red light revealing its hidden threat. "Francis don't-" I was too late. Francis pulled the trigger, sending a load of buckshot flying towards the infected, and the car as well. I clamped my eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable wail of the alarm. I cracked one eye open, then widened both in surprise. Francis' shot had sheared off the top of the now teetering infected's head, the rest of the shot having gone over the car, missing it. I looked to Francis, who gave me a smug grin. "What?" He said in a mock-offended tone. "Did you really think I'm stupid enough to shoot an alarmed car? Give me some credit."
His smug grin disappeared as a piercing siren broke the air; the now alerted infecteds' wails barely surpassing it. I looked to the car, to see that the brainless infected had finally toppled over, right onto the hood of the now shrieking car. We all turned to Francis, who was now smiling sheepishly. "You're right, Francis." Louis began, his voice almost vibrating with suppressed rage. "I will give you credit, for getting us all killed!" Francis only shrugged helplessly in response, as we all turned to meet the horde of infected now sprinting toward us.
Bill and Louis were the first to act, raising their guns and firing in wide arcs to mow down as many infected as possible. Francis and Zoey lifted their weapons and dealt with any infected that threatened to get close, Zoey peppering them with pistol bullets, Francis simply blowing them away with blasts from his shotgun. I took a deliberate step back from the group, and raised my rifle to pick off infected toward the back of the horde. With each squeeze of the trigger I blew a hole in an infected's head, pausing to reload occasionally. The infected continued to rush forward in droves, only to be put down by our combined fire.
I was lining my sights up on one infected's head when a powerful scent suddenly pervaded my senses. It was thick, a cloying odor of blood, dirt, and… something else. I don't know what it was, but that smell overpowered everything else in my mind. It was… wrong. No, it wasn't wrong. It was foreign. It was a foreign scent, and it filled me with rage, sending a red filter over my vision. This was not the anger one usually feels, but something more primal, bestial. A growl grew in my throat, rising in volume, until it broke into an animal howl. I charged forward towards the scent, leaving my distracted teammates behind me. I followed the scent, only one thought in my head, to find that scent, and to destroy it. Tear it apart. Consume it. An image of spattering red flashed through my mind and I found myself grinning wolfishly.
I rounded the corner and finally found the source of the scent. There, crouching over the body of some unfortunate victim was one of the aptly named Hunters. The growl returned, and the Hunter snapped its head up in surprise, blood and gore dripping from its jaws, the rest of its face hidden by its hood. Upon seeing me, the Hunter leapt to its feet, turning towards me and snarling viciously. I returned the gesture, dropping my rifle and instinctively drawing my switchblade. A moment passed between us, the tension building to an unbearable level, until it was broken by the Hunter, who leapt at me with a vicious howl.
Having expected this, I was ready, and at the last possible second dived to the side, avoiding the Hunter's slashing claws. The Hunter was surprised, and tumbled to the ground, before quickly scrambling to its feet. I hissed at the Hunter, and brandished the knife. It growled in return, and lunged again. This time, rather than sidestep him, I braced myself and met it head on. The Hunter collided into me with the force of a speeding car. I was thrown off my feet and we tumbled head over heels, each attempting to gain leverage to bring our blades to bear. We rolled over and over, until I found myself on my back, the Hunter straddling me, raising its claws to strike. I lunged forward and hit first, thrusting my knife upward and into the Hunter's chest. The knife impacted the Hunter's chest, slashing into its skin but skidding off, leaving only a large gash and a new hole in its hoodie. I had hit one of the Hunter's ribs.
Thankfully the Hunter was still distracted by the blow, yelping in pain and jerking back. I took this opportunity to strike again, but the Hunter was prepared and shot a claw forward, grabbing my wrist in a bone-crushing grip. As it held my hand holding the knife in one claw, it raised the other to bring down into my stomach, its claws splayed like talons. I reacted quickly, bringing a fist up to sucker punch the Hunter in the jaw. The Hunter's head jerked back from the blow, and I took the opportunity to jerk upwards, ripping my hand free from its claws and throwing it from its perch atop my stomach. It fell to the ground, and I leapt to my feet.
The red haze faded slightly from my vision, and I took a quick stock of the situation as the Hunter scrambled to its feet as well. I was at a clear disadvantage. The Hunter was faster and stronger, and while I had only one blade, it had five on each hand. My knife could go deeper than its claws, though, which meant a stabbing motion was my best bet. However while the Hunter could punch a hole in my chest with one solid blow, I was unable to break through his ribs- I would have to get my knife between them if I hoped to do any serious damage.
Steeling myself, and allowing the red filter to once again claim my vision, I leapt towards the Hunter, tackling it to the ground and thrusting my blade forward blindly. I felt it sink into soft flesh, and heard the Hunter yelp in pain. With heavy jabbing motions, I withdrew the blade and sunk it back in, again and again, each blow drawing a howl of agony from the Hunter. I felt something sharp rake across my skin several times, but I felt nothing. The adrenaline had numbed me to a point that I was oblivious to the trauma I was receiving. We finally came to a stop, this time with me on top, the Hunter pinned below me. I was given a good look at the damage I had done as I raised the knife over my head, ready to land the killing blow.
The Hunter was a mess. Its stomach had been reduced to raw, bleeding hamburger, and I had managed to get a lucky thrust in between its ribs, puncturing one of its lungs and sending it into a wheezing fit. I looked upon the damage and felt something welling up within me. A sense of satisfaction more fulfilling than I had ever felt. At this moment, pinned atop this bleeding victim, and knowing that I had caused it, I was God. I was the best. I was the alpha male. With a twisted grin plastered on my face and a howl escaping my throat I brought the switchblade down, sinking the six-inch blade into his chest, past his ribs and straight to his heart. Blood erupted from the wound, spurting around the blade and coating my hands. I twisted the knife deeper, a satisfied growl starting deep in my throat, and gaining strength as the Hunter's life ebbed away. After about a minute, the Hunter's weak movements ceased, his entire body growing still as the last of its lifeblood flowed from its body. I stood over the new corpse, threw my head back, and released a piercing shriek that echoed through the city, a cry of victory to any and all that could hear.
Then suddenly, the red haze began to recede, the adrenaline flooding my system beginning to fade away. In that moment, all of my wounds caught up with me, and I sank to my knees, groaning in pain. My arms and legs burned from the fight, several places feeling as though a hot wire had been pressed to them, no doubt where the Hunter had managed to slash me with its claws. My chest was burning like I had run a marathon, each beat of my heart sending a tremor through my form and causing my many cuts to flare in pain, and for a moment I wished it would stop, if only to relieve me of this torture. Then, without warning, my hands brought forth a sudden burst of agony that drew a wracking sob from deep in my chest, causing me to drop my switchblade in shock. It felt as though my nails were being pushed out from the inside by jagged splinters, and I felt the warmth of my own blood beginning to pool around them, before spattering to the floor in steady drips. The pain continued for another minute, each second feeling like an eternity of torture. Then, slowly, the pain receded, and I collapsed in a moaning, sobbing heap into a mixed pool of the Hunter's and my own blood upon the ground. Eventually, the pain gave way to a cold numbness, and knew then that I was going to die. The wounds I had sustained from the Hunter were bleeding badly, and the pool of blood spreading around me was beginning to match that of the Hunter's. I lifted my head feebly to look at the Hunter, and only then realized what I had just done.
I had torn the Hunter apart. Its chest was spread like a murder victim in a morgue, my vicious wrenching of the knife having split its ribs like dry twigs. Its guts had spilled from its stomach, hanging out like grisly streamers. Finally, there was the blood, more than seemingly possible, it leaked from the Hunter in a steady stream, adding to the growing puddle surrounding it. Unable to look directly at the scene, I cast my gaze upward, to the Hunter's face. It was frozen in terror, the last emotion the Infected had managed to convey, and its hood had slipped slightly, revealing its eyes, or lack thereof. I drew in a sharp breath as I saw that the Hunter's eyes were missing, the only thing remaining being a pair of ragged sockets, caked with dried blood and casting a deep shadow, giving the impression of its sockets being endless pools of blackness. Unable to face the scene before me, I turned my head to the other side, clenching my eyes shut as hard as I could.
As I waited to die, I was interrupted as I began to feel a sense of rage build up in me again. It wasn't like last time, though. My anger wasn't directed towards the Hunter. It was directed towards myself. I wouldn't let myself lose after coming so close to victory. I WOULD NOT DIE HERE. The warmth of this fury began to spread to the rest of my body, flooding it with heat and driving out any of the numbness I had felt before. The pain returned full force, and I moaned pathetically. But the rage would have none of it; it screamed in my head to get to my feet and stand tall, and, to my amazement, I began to comply. Gritting my teeth at the torment, I sat up, and slowly got to my feet. As I pushed myself up, however, I heard an unfamiliar clicking noise coming from my hands. I slowly lifted them in front of my face, and gasped in shock.
Through the blood caking my hands, I saw that they had been changed, mutated into something terrifying. Sprouting from each fingertip was a pointed, sharpened claw, each capable of cutting into flesh and bone with ease. I closed my eyes and clapped my new claws to my head, ignoring the pain as my nails dug into my scalp, drawing blood. There was no doubt in my mind now. I was infected. These claws could only be the result of the Green Flu, and I knew exactly where I had seen them before. They were on the Hunter I had just killed. I was becoming one of them, no doubt from the bite I had received earlier. As this realization slowly sank in, I began to wonder what would happen to me. I had seen the virus change someone firsthand and it had taken only minutes. I had been bitten about an hour ago, and yet the only things to change were my hands, and, I realized with a tightening sensation in my gut, my legs. Surely if I were to completely turn, it would have happened by now? Perhaps I was at least partially immune, like the others. They had all been bitten, long before we even met, and yet they were fine. Maybe I was like them, except rather than fully immune only partially? It was my only hope, and I clung to it without a second thought. I was partially immune. I was safe. I would not fully turn.
Filled with a new determination, I collected myself and grabbed my dropped switchblade, clicking it closed and storing it in my pocket, doing my best to ignore the blood that caked every inch of its surface. I then moved outside of the gory scene and grabbed my rifle, which thankfully lay a good distance away from the blood. As I slung it on my back, I suddenly realized how the others would react if they saw me as I was now. If they saw my claws, I was dead. Francis already was suspicious of me, and would no doubt gun me down at the first sight of them. Bill and Louis were practical, and I knew that while they would in no way enjoy it, they would shoot me should they realize I was at least partially infected. Then there was Zoey. She was the youngest member of our group, and the first to offer aid to someone in need, the event with the crying infected being an excellent example. However, I could tell by looking at her that she was just as experienced in mercy killings as I was. If she thought I was going to turn, she wouldn't hesitate. That thought filled me with more sadness than I expected, but I ignored it. I would have to hide it from them, I decided. If I was right and I wasn't going to turn, it would save my life. If I was wrong… I wouldn't have to worry about it anyway.
But the others will. A voice in my head responded, its accusatory tone filling me with guilt. If you really are going to turn, you'll be a liability. You could kill one of them, and then what? I shook it off. If I did turn, the others could handle it. I would be dead before I could really do any damage. You don't know that. The voice hissed. If you turn during a horde rush, you could get them all killed. You could turn in your sleep, and kill whoever was unlucky enough to wake you. I groaned and clutched my head, this time paying careful attention not to cut myself with my claws. The voice was right, if I turned at the wrong moment… I shook my head. No, that wouldn't happen, because I was immune, dammit! I am not going to turn completely.
With this in mind, I collected myself and began to consider how to hide myself from the others. I would definitely have to hide my hands, maybe with gloves. Until then, though what should I do? I had to get back to them soon, no doubt they had noticed my disappearance by now and were looking for me. If I didn't hurry I would be left behind, presumed dead. I cast my gaze back to the Hunter and got an idea. I slowly made my way over to the corpse and took out my knife, fumbling slightly with my new claws. After getting a firm grip on the knife, I brought it down and began to cut strips away from the Hunter's blood-drenched hoodie. I quickly cut two long strips out of the fabric, and took them, pocketing my knife and stepping away from the corpse. Using the strips, I wrapped them thickly about my hands, until they covered them in a layer of wrappings, forming a pair of rudimentary mittens and hiding my claws form view. I took care to leave my right index finger free, thus allowing me to continue to fire my rifle. I prayed the others wouldn't notice it.
With my claws successfully hidden, I drew my rifle and made my way back down the street, retracing my steps as best I could given my rage-induced state previously. Eventually I began to hear shouts and, after a moment, recognized them as my comrades, all shouting my name. Quickening my pace, I rounded a corner and caught sight of them. They had indeed finished off the horde even without my assistance; infected bodies lined the street, and the scent of gunpowder still hung in the air. Bill, Louis, Zoey, and Francis had apparently holed up in the entrance of the subway station, standing by the steps but refusing to go inside. Their dedication brought a smile to my face and, as quickly as I could with my wounds, I hastened toward them. Francis turned towards me, his eyes widening in surprise. I froze however as he raised his shotgun, pumping the slide and racking a shell into the chamber.
I stopped running and threw my hands up in surrender, crying in alarm as Francis' aim centered on my head. "Hey, Francis! It's me, Tom! Hold your fire!" Francis paused, looking over his shotgun's sights to get a better look at me. After a moment, a relieved expression broke his features and he lowered the shotgun, grinning. The others turned toward me as well, and upon seeing me gave various expressions of relief. Francis was the first to reach me, and clapped a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Tom, you made it! Jesus, I thought you were one of those vampires for a second, you look like shit!" Confused by both his summary of my appearance and his use of the word "vampire" I looked down, and immediately realized what he meant. I was covered from head to toe in blood, and I still had several gashes leaking fresh blood into my clothes, suffusing them with a red dampness and a sharp iron smell. I chuckled nervously, and responded, "Yeah, I feel like it too. What'd I miss?" Bill had reached us now, and frowned at me, saying, "A hell of a fight, that's what. Where were you?" I jerked my head back in the direction I had come, and replied, "Another one of those Hunters. Dragged me off, but I managed to kill it." Louis and Zoey now approached, each giving me a look of concern. "You look bad, man." Louis said worriedly. "We should get to the safe house and heal you up."
I nodded in agreement. "Right, lets-" I was unable to finish my thought as a flash of pain lanced up my form, beginning in my legs and moving up through my chest. It was intense, a feeling of burning like someone had pressed hot wire to my legs, and was dragging it up my body, occasionally digging in and eliciting a gasp from my mouth and tears from my eyes. I pitched forward, and was caught by Bill and Francis, who each placed an arm under my own, lifting me on their shoulders. Bill gave my wounds a glance from his position at my side, and began barking orders to the others. "He's hurt bad, lets keep moving, safe house is just inside." The others nodded, and we made our way down the steps of the subway entrance and into the safe house, Louis and Zoey leading the way as Bill and Francis helped me hobble along behind them.
We made it into the safe house, apparently a storeroom with an adjoining bathroom to one side, and Bill and Francis lead me to one of the tables, clearing it of whatever random junk was on it and allowing me to collapse onto it. I rolled onto my back and groaned as the pain continued to burn, sending wracking tremors throughout my form.
Zoey stepped forward, a medkit already in hand, and began to inspect my wounds. "These cuts are deep." She said, taking some gauze from the pack and measuring out a long section for a bandage. "We need to get pressure on them quick before he bleeds out." The others nodded, and Francis moved forward to press his hands on one of the deeper cuts on my leg, holding it closed while simultaneously holding back the flow of blood that continued to leak from the wound. Louis did the same on another leg wound, while Bill worked on covering one on my chest. Louis cocked his head in confusion, his hands pressing hard on the weeping cut in front of him. "His skin is hot." He commented confusedly. "Real hot." Having measured out three bandages for the worst of the wounds, Zoey moved forward and began to wrap them around the cuts, gently moving the others' hands away from them before wrapping them tightly. She looked to Louis and said, "We can worry about infection later, for now we need to stop the bleeding."
At the mention of "infection" the other three winced, and gave me varying looks of concern, not that I noticed. I was too busy panting and sweating, fighting from crying out from the pain of both my wounds and the terrible burning sensation that continued to spread throughout my form. It moved over me like a wave, slowly receding from my legs and moving deeper into my chest, before finally making its way into my head. I couldn't help it, I screamed. The pain was worse than any headache I had ever experienced, it felt like someone was trying to split my skull down the center with a burning wooden stake, small splinters of agony digging into my brain like red-hot needles. My eyes were the worst, they seemed to be boiling within their sockets, forcing me to clench my eyelids shut and moan pitifully. The last thing I heard before passing out was Zoey's muffled voice, her shouts of concern lost to my fading consciousness.