The acrid stench of burnt plastic still hung in the air around his car. There had been plumes of black smoke billowing out from the hood the last time he'd seen the thing. The smoke was gone, but that dreadful odor still hung in the air strongly enough to cause his nose to crinkle reflexively. He stood before the now defunct vehicle, feeling the slightest bit of bereavement. The old Mercury, the edges of its hood now blackened, had been a faithful means of transportation during the disaster. He knew it was just a car, but he couldn't help but feel that he'd lost a good friend. He blew sharply through his nose in what was almost a laugh. "Grieving over a car...," he muttered to himself, as he reached for the door handle. He leaned in across the driver's seat and plucked a small bag from the passenger-side floorboard, grabbed his keys from the ignition, and left the car for good. As he walked, he took the spent magazines from earlier and dropped them into his backpack. He rifled through his bag for a moment, dug two fresh magazines from the bottom of his bag, and stuck them into his pocket. He slung the bag back onto his shoulder, and prepared to find... well, something. A shelter or a vehicle, preferably. He strode down the sidewalk, treading clumps of grass beneath his feet where they'd begun to grow up through cracks here and there. A pair of crows flew down the empty highway, their caws echoing between the desolate grey buildings. Off to his right, tall grass had begun taking over what appeared to have been a park of some sort. Two weeks of neglect, and nature was already staking its claim. It was intriguing, really. The present state of the city was a stark contrast to what it had been two weeks past. Usually traveling this route to the large supermarket was quite the dilemma, requiring one's utmost attention to avoid the less considerate drivers weaving through the traffic, whilst still maintaining a proper bearing. Now the streets stood empty, completely devoid of pedestrians and vehicles, occupied or no. He also found it interesting that the infected previously in the area had moved on, as well. Interesting, and highly disturbing. He felt small pinpoints of pressure at the edge of his consciousness, each one radiating a sense of the current state of its instincts, a status, so to speak. The disturbing part, though, was the mass of pressure he felt from the direction he'd just come. They told a different story, their instincts corrupting that far corner of his mind with a sense of morbid satisfaction. No, satisfaction wasn't the word. The hunger of the Hive could never be sated. It was, rather, some sick sense of fulfillment. As the members of the Hive consumed the recently dead, their desire was... occupied. Not truly being satisfied, but engaged in seeking a fulfillment it could never find. Once the infected he'd slain had been completely consumed, the Hive would direct its attentions back towards the hunt for food, its hunger just as large, or perhaps larger than when it had begun. He suddenly jolted to a halt in mid-stride. One of those tiny pinpricks had turned into an electrode, sending wave after wave of urgency through his brain. His breath caught in his chest as the electrifying sensation ripped his attention away from his thoughts and to some distant location ahead and to his right. His eyes opened wide as he received the message it was
broadcasting. It was merely a feeling, an instinct, but his mind put words to it as surely as it did to his own thoughts. "FOOD IS HERE!" it roared. He recovered quickly from the surprise, and flung himself into an all-out dash in the direction of the message. He felt a thousand Hivemembers do the same. *
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The girl tried to catch herself as she tumbled to the ground. A lock of short blonde hair clumped with mud swung in front of her face, as she tried to scramble forward across the pavement. She attempted to keep her forward momentum and return to her feet, but the moment she tried to put any weight on her right ankle, she collapsed back onto the ground in a heap, skinning her forearms worse than they already were. She tried to crawl forward, to keep moving away from the wracking pants growing ever closer from behind. She could hear the beast bearing down, closer and closer. She sobbed aloud, and tried to scramble across the pavement faster. Suddenly, she screamed as her raw, bleeding forearms came down into a dark puddle with a rainbow-hued sheen across its surface. She rolled, reflexively curling into a fetal position, hugging her arms to herself to stop the blazing of her cuts. It probably couldn't have been worse. That one... thing was right there. It was almost to the point leaping for her, its prey. It leaned forward precariously, its arms outstretched in its headlong pursuit. Pallid grey flesh blended with coarse grey sky in a brief moment as the monster dove at her. Her scream pierced the air as she shrank back away from the imminent sensation of teeth piercing her skin. Then suddenly she was looking at the sky. A blur passed from one corner of her vision to the other almost quicker than she could perceive, and it swept the beast with it. She blinked, recovering just in time to see the figure that had darted across her vision straddling a wriggling mass of arms and legs. It vaguely occurred to her that the figure was that of a man, but she had no time to notice anything further. A sickening snap shattered the air, resounding between the concrete walls of buildings, as the man brought his elbow crashing down for the second time into the skull of the beast he had pinned. Suddenly he was out of her view again. A dark shape loomed over her, cutting the man out of her vision. She looked up to see broken yellow teeth, smears of blood, and pale flesh hurtling towards her once again. A pop pierced her ears, and the beast went limp, it's limbs seeming to flail in midair now that they had no muscles to guide them. Its skull smacked the pavement, sending gobbets of dark blood sloshing out of a tiny hole in the side of its head. The girl screamed in revulsion. The thing's body hit the concrete next, and rolled, its neck bending at an awkward angle to allow its momentum to carry it forward. One foot clipped her ear as it smacked the ground beside her head. The monster's torso thudded onto her, its full weight instantly knocking the breath out of her. The thing's corpse was bent double at the waist, straddling her abdomen. Its eyes were still open, dead and glazed, but that look of hunger remained. Warm, rancid blood dribbled from its slack lips, spattering across the front of her soiled shirt and into the hollow of her neck. She tried to scream again, but her diaphragm simply would not move. That loud popping sound hit her again, this time
much closer, much louder. A high-pitched whine started up in her ears, pushing all other sound out. She flailed out with her free arm, trying to gain purchase on the corpse atop her. The thing toppled sideways, and she scrambled backwards. That sound, it was so loud! It jarred her again and again, seeming to beat at the side of her head. She looked up once she was clear of the corpse, and saw the man's back where he stood over her. His feet were planted solidly on the pavement, and every time that sound broke the atmosphere, his shoulders flexed a little. Beyond him, she saw what must have been nearly thirty of the beasts running at them, but the man stood his ground, seemingly unfazed. Little brass cylinders tinkled across the pavement, thrown from the other side of the him with every pop. Ah, so they were gunshots! She'd heard them on TV and in movies, but nothing could've prepared her for the jarring nature of the sound. She sat with her palms on the ground behind her, halfway through sitting up, mesmerized by what she saw. Every time the weapon discharged, another member of the oncoming pack fell, and was trampled by its fellows. Every shot added to the echoes dancing between the buildings, making each single gunshot sound like five. A hunk of plastic and metal clacked onto the ground at the man's feet, and in one smooth motion, he'd whipped another of the long black magazines from his pocket and into his weapon. The girl started as the man suddenly spun backwards into a crouch, facing her. She caught sight of his face, but their eyes didn't meet. He snatched the front of her shirt, and in an instant had scooped her up off the pavement and flung her over his shoulder. Well that was inconsiderate. She would have been indignant, resentful of such brash treatment had she not been so surprised, and he not been saving her life. As it was, she clutched the back of his shirt, trying as much as possible to avoid being jostled. *
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He lowered his free shoulder as he burst through the miraculously unlocked door of the abandoned apartment building. He kicked it shut behind him and threw the bolt, which miraculously worked, as well. The girl bounced on his shoulder as he raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His chest heaved in his battle for oxygen, and he ducked into the first open apartment. His body was jittery in the aftermath of such an intense adrenaline rush. He was surprised he'd been able to work his weapon at all, much less hit anything. But hit things he had, lots of things, lots of zombie-head things, and he was thankful for it. He fell to his knees, and dumped the girl onto the floor in front of him. He reached back, and closed the door behind him, then fell against it, panting. He thunked his Beretta down onto the linoleum floor beside him. Oh, how his muscles burned! He'd been sore before, but never like this, and never this quickly! His throat burned as his chest heaved. He was by no means out-ofshape... Even when he had been in poor shape, he'd never felt anything like this. The burning intensified, and a pang of dread hit him in the chest as he felt that telltale twitch on the inside of his groin. He gritted his teeth against the incoming sensation. He screamed aloud as his legs knotted up into cramps. He seethed through his gritted
teeth, fighting against the pain, as his muscles did their best to rip themselves from his body. He toppled over, curling into the fetal position. He did his best to extend his legs and stretch out the cramps, but it was like trying to push over a brick building with one hand. What was this?! He'd barely ran half a kilometer! Why was this happening?! Granted, he'd done it faster than he'd thought possible, but nothing short of sprinting a marathon warranted cramps like this. How...? Through the haze of pain, the answer came to him. Decreased heart rate and blood pressure caused the pale skin... Excessive burning in his muscles was caused by excessive lactic acid build up... The cramps and the hunger gnawing at his gut was caused by an incredibly fast use of nutrients... The answer was anaerobic respiration. That explained everything. The virus, or the disease, or whatever the hell it was had changed something in his body that caused his cells to become stuck using anaerobic respiration all the time, as a primary source of energy. And now he was stuck as well, paying the price for his ignorance. He would've thrashed about from the pain, but all of his muscles were locked up. His left side, the one he'd been using to carry the girl had even started cramping, now. Speaking of which... He did his best to look through the blurry pools of tears in his eyes. Oh? The girl was kneeled over him, talking to him, her face twisted into the mask of helpless panic. He hadn't heard her at all. Perhaps even his ear canals had found a way to cramp up, he thought bitterly. "...Cramp!" He managed to bark through his teeth. Another wave of pain washed over him, like a concrete wall toppling over and crushing him. He clenched his eyes shut, unable to tell if the girl had understood or not. He did what he could to steel himself, resigned to waiting out the cramps. Suddenly his nose was burned by the acidic smell of vinegar. He forced his eyes open once again, to see a gigantic jar of pickles towering over him. Dark grey light shone through a window and glinted off of the smudged glass rim of the open jar. A more heavenly sight, he had never beheld. It looked like... salvation. Interesting. It seemed that the girl had understood him after all. And not only that, she'd known just what to do. And even better, she'd managed to find just what he'd needed in a moment's time. He did his best to gulp down what he could of the jar's contents, succeeding mostly in drenching himself. Regardless, after a few minutes, his cramps had subsided. He must've drunk more than he'd thought to have sated his body's suddenly ravenous need for nutrients. He did his best to sit up with as little movement as possible, giving his still burning muscles only the slightest chance to cramp up again. They behaved, thankfully. He breathed deeply, moving nice, smooth breaths through the airy vacancy left by the pain. He slowly opened his eyes to regard the girl once he'd collected himself. She half-kneeled, half-sat, regarding him back, and looking quite pleased with herself. Interesting. She didn't seem to have need of words. That was fine. He had no particular need of them, himself. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh! I'm sorry. My name is Liliana," she laughed. "But you can call me Lily," she offered a him her hand with a smile that was... It was... Well, it was cute, but he'd never say it. He felt his masculinity oozing away from merely thinking that particular adjective.
The man harrumphed through his nose, "I'm...," He stumbled... over his own name. He played it off as if he were biting back a sudden stab of pain. "I'm Richard. Olsen. Forgive me for not shaking your hand. I think I'd prefer not to move right now." He grinned at her in that selfdepreciating manner of his.
