The first thing that came with infection?

Pain.

Horrible, blinding pain. Like millions of jabbing swords slicing at her legs and arms. And then there was this awful itch. It started on her arms, then increased up to her face and neck.

It wouldn't stop. No matter how she scratched or clawed, that damn itching wouldn't go away.

By the time it stopped, Amy Dodger was no longer human. Her mind was twisted past recognition, and for a time it stayed that way.

She didn't remember who she was, nor what she was doing. Her only goal was surviving.

"Survival's a lifestyle." She muttered, speaking in infected tongues. She anxiously tapped a claw on the ground, waiting for the uninfected to find her.

If she was quick enough, perhaps she could evade their loud flashing sticks and return to her den.

But nothing came.

She sniffed the air for their scents, confused. They were indeed still in the area, but had walked right past her hiding spot.

Stupid uninfected.

Now she just needed to get out without alerting them to her presence.

Easier said than done. As idiotic as the uninfected were, they had powerful weapons and surprising resilience. She would have to be careful. She trotted up to the door, about to smash it in, when she noticed the shiny knob attached to it. She remembered watching uninfected pull on these, opening the doors without breaking them. Perhaps if she were to pull as well...

She grasped her claws around the cold metal knob, pulling the thing as hard as she could. The door didn't budge. She huffed. What was she missing? She racked her mind, trying to think back to when she saw it, when her hand slipped, twisting the knob and opening the door. She purred in triumph, steadying herself while nudging the door open further, and searching for the group. They were close.

As soon as the door was opened wide enough, she ran. With blinding speed, she hurtled through corridors on all fours, careful to stay out of their range of sight. Finally, she reached her den. The familiar sight of the bright red door welcomed her as she dove underneath a pile of soft blankets, purring is satisfaction.

She did it.

Slowly, she relaxed into the soft pile, falling into a light sleep