Fiction: Immune

[Captain awesome]

So I posted this story here a long time ago, and have since edited it. This is version 2.0 I guess, and now that it's the summer and I have time to do fun things again, I'll be able to update it regularly. Anyway, comments on mistakes and what you think of the character are welcome. Enjoy.

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Immune

Chapter 1

The last dying rays of sunlight cast shadows about the living room. Beth shifted in her seat, blinked. A yawn cracked her jaw. How long had she been out? The last thing she remembered was a news report about rioting and a government advisor saying to stay inside. Beth had locked the doors--the alert status had only been orange and the rioting had been on the other side of the city. Sleep tried to pull her eyelids down and she batted them rapidly. The remote was still in her hand. She turned the Television on. A haggard newswoman was looking all about as she spoke, eyes barely staying on the camera. A flood of people were running past behind her. Beth turned the volume up. The screams made it difficult to hear the newswoman.

"This isn't simply rioting Kurt, this is something else entirely, the military is present now, but they aren't stopping, they attack anyone in sight!"

The camera jerked to the right, stopping on a chainlink fence rocking back and forth. The mob of people on the other side were climbing over it. The newswoman's voice pitched.

"The barricade! The barricade!"

The fence teetered, then toppled. The snarling screaming crowd poured towards the camera, which clattered to the ground. The shot skewed as feet collided with the screen, and then the television cut to static. Beth stared at the snow. What the fuck was going on? Something shattered behind her.

The silence that followed pressed her ears, her pulse a rapid throb. Something must have woken her up. Her left hand scrabbled for the bat she had leaned against her seat, but froze as a new noise pricked at her ears. It came again, a wheeze. Silence. Every hair on her body stood. It was inside. Her hand found the bat handle and tightened. Jimmy and her mother were both asleep and sick. Their bedrooms were in the back of the house. The noise had come from the back of the house. Beth was up and moving. Maybe it was Patches. She hadn't latched Patches' dog door. Maybe Patches had returned.

She froze at the corner before the long hallway that her family's bedrooms branched off of. The wheezing sound was back. Beth brought the bat up, swallowed. Her voice quavered.

"Patches?"

A primal shriek answered her. Something was tearing down the hall, snarling. Beth wound the bat back, swung. Too late. A dark shape careened around the corner, and then Beth was sailing through the air, the subsequent impact with the ground forcing the air from her lungs. It was on top of her, raining blow down on her stomach, her chest. Lines of searing pain crossed her face. There was a snarling in her ears, and then something was clamping onto her arm and warm liquid was spattering onto Beth's face. Beth sucked in air, and screamed.

Beth jerked awake. The sunlight pouring through the bathroom window squinted her eyes. She unclamped her hand from her arm, fingers brushing lightly over a semi circle of pinkish bumps. She didn't know what she hated more; mornings or nights. Actually, she hadn't screamed herself into wakefulness for a week. Nights it was then. She rubbed her eyes, then cocked her head and stopped breathing. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the trees outside. Her breath left in a rush. The wad of towels that she had thrown into this particular flat's bathtub shifted as she sat up. Her hand rubbing her eyes moved up, catching in tangled jagged hair. A glance assured her that the chair she had propped against the bathroom door was as she had left it. Shrill noise drifted in through the window, causing Beth to jerk her knee into the tub's porcelain wall. She bit her lip and breathed evenly, let the ache subside. Twisting, she saw a small brightly colored songbird perched on a bird-feeder through the glass. It tilted its head at her and repeated its merry tune. She saluted it with a finger and pulled herself out of the tub.

After moving the chair from the door, and making sure that the barricade against the flat's entrance hadn't shifted in the least through the night, Beth dug through her pack. She spoke softly into the empty room.

"What will it be today?"

Her hand went to the very bottom of the pack, and brought a small round can into the light. A sigh escaped her. The chicken of the sea wouldn't be so bad if she had some soda or booze to wash the taste out of her mouth. She only had lukewarm tap water. At least the plumbing still worked. The pack flopped emptily to the floor.

"Figures."

A fit of laughter almost came over her and she had to bite her lip. Laughing was too risky. Moving to the balcony with her can of "sea-fowl" and a glass of cloudy water, Beth looked out on Seattle. The sun was high, replicated brilliantly in the rippling waters of the Puget Sound, and if it weren't for the smoke from distant fires smudging the sky, the view might have been truly beautiful. Breathtaking. She spoke.

"Another day, another dollar."

She almost laughed again.

"Another can of tuna, I guess."

She briefly toyed with the idea of listening to the radio as she forced the tuna down. An entire week of static stayed her hand. First, she needed food. Another sigh slipped out of her. She headed back inside and tossed the empty can onto the flat's couch. From a chair she grabbed her father's heavy working coat. Next she slung the empty pack across her shoulders, and slid the baseball bat into it. Then she went about removing the barricade piece by piece. Chairs, bench, bed frame, dresser. A tune came to her as she worked and she began quietly humming it to herself. Maybe today she would find some fruit. Her tongue flicked out over her lips. She would kill for some canned peaches.

[Captain awesome]

The military bombardment had done its damage. Beth moved around the craters marring the street, taking special care to stay in the shadows of the broken buildings. Massive wrecks of vehicles clotted sections of the road, smoke still issuing from one here and there lending an unnatural fogginess even as the sun blazed overhead. Very rarely was the driver still inside, slumped against the wheel or out the door. She kept her eyes up, away from the still forms littering the street like so much trash. An image of infected flooding the streets filled her head, and her heart began ricocheting in her chest. She swatted the vision from her mind, stopped next to a pile of rubble that had been the entrance to a small corner market, and squatted. Her eyes flicked around the street. She didn't know it. She hadn't been this far in before. She hadn't left the flat in a week. The stores she had passed were either empty, ransacked, or destroyed. Soon she would be in the heart of the city. Her jaw clenched; she deserved more than tuna. Wind picked up, moaning through the empty streets, eliciting a quiet flow of curses from her. The smoke obscured anything more than a block away, and now she definitely wouldn't be able to hear it. Beth pulled the bat out of her pack.

She darted over the rubble, taking cover in alcoves and store fronts only long enough to see whether someone, something, was in the street. Soon she was at the end of the block, squatting in the shelter of a Nordstroms. On the verge of looking around the corner, she turned back, squinting at the intersection and its overturned bus. She knew it. Her lips curved up. She and her friends had hit up a dingy Rite Aid on the street just around the corner. They had passed the canned foods then, the THC in their system demanding salt and grease. Beth's stomach rumbled. That had only been two weeks ago. John had eaten two large pizzas that night and vomited. He'd bragged, even after vomiting. Well, for a week anyway. Beth stopped smiling. John probably wasn't John anymore. Her hand moved quickly to rub her eyes. Fucking smoke. The bat's grip tape squeaked in her hands. She just needed to get food and get back. She didn't have time to dick around.

A quick peek around the corner revealed not only the street she knew would be there, but a police cruiser. This was an unexpected fortune. Her father had said that she had great aim when he had taken her hunting as a child. Of course, then he had shot that deer, which resulted in her never going hunting again, and she had even debated against the second amendment in high school, but now, now a gun would be useful. She gave another quick peek, saw nothing, then rushed into the street towards the passenger side of the police cruiser. Peering through the passenger window she could see that the driver's door was open, the window smashed. Dark red trails covering the steering wheel matched those tinging the edges of the broken glass. The shotgun she had envisioned between the seats wasn't present. She cursed.

A low growl answered her. Someone struggled upright on the other side of the vehicle. Beth ducked immediately, pressing her back against the police cruiser. She had fucked up. Her heart began hammering her ribcage; it had to hear her. She was sure of it. She wanted to breathe, to calm herself, but a vice had tightened on her lungs. It was moving, a slow shuffle, feet sliding over the debris more than stepping. Motion - Beth's eyes flitted to the large panes of glass lining the store on her left. The shuffling stopped. In the glass Beth saw a man swaying, staring at the police cruiser. His suit and buttoned shirt were pristine excepting the large red stain on one shoulder. Sticky ropes of saliva hung from his open mouth, flexing with his wheezes. More motion, further down the road. Another, this one a woman, was shuffling toward the businessman's gurgles. Two. Beth sucked in tiny breaths of air. She could handle this, she just had to take them one at a time. Holding the bat gingerly out in front of her, she counted to three in her head, then let the end of the bat drop.

The steel clink drew another growl from the man. She saw him moving around the cruiser in the glass. He would be coming from the left. Beth remained crouched, pulled the bat around to her right. Her throat was suddenly parched. It was just going to be like softball. Softballs were about head sized. She was still thinking about softball to head size ratios when the man lurched around the corner of the vehicle.

His milky eyes found her crouching, and then his lips pulled back revealing yellow teeth. He lurched forward. A scream filled Beth's mind as she sprung, adding forward momentum to the swing, just managing to get the bat over his reaching hands. The blow shivered through the bat and up her arms and then she was moving past, slipping past as the businessman fell thrashing. The woman further down the road saw her now.

The reaction was instantaneous; her face contorted, she screamed, and then she was sprinting. Beth tapped the bat on the ground twice. Was she humming? The screaming woman was twenty feet away. Beth brought the bat up. Ten feet. She wound up. Five. The woman gave one last howl and lunged straight into Beth's swing. There was a distinct crunch as the bat caught the infected woman in the throat. The woman's legs flew out from under her and Beth spun as the body hit the ground, raising the bat above her head, but the woman wasn't even twitching. Her mouth was still frozen in a snarl, but her head was cocked at an unnatural angle and her chest didn't rise. Beth made a mental note to aim for the neck more often. A gurgle sounded behind her. Beth glanced over her shoulder. The businessman was crawling drunkenly towards her, head streaming crimson. One arm followed the other, and even though his head swayed with each lurch, his eyes never moved from Beth. A laugh escaped her.

"You're just a trooper, aren't you?"

The man responded with a snarl and drug himself on. Beth strolled towards him. No doubt about it this time; she was humming as she brought the bat to rest on her shoulder. Ten feet away she stopped.

"A little further, champ."

A bloody rolex adorned hand scrabbled at her hiking boots. Beth brought the bat down on the back of his head. The distinctive steel ping mixed with the man's blubbering snarl as his face crashed into the asphalt, the sounds echoing off the surrounding buildings. His hand latched onto Beth's boot. Steel contacted flesh, a rapid staccato of pings filling the air. The hand was still clutching, the man still gurgling. Beth's chest heaved. She made her arms work faster, and finally a dull wet noise came as his head caved in. His grip loosened. Beth yanked the bat out of the mess, bringing a spray of gore with it. She blinked red from her eyes, spat copper, and kicked the dead man's hand away. Then the adrenaline drained from her.

She doubled over, hands on her knees, gulped breaths searing her lungs. A twinge coming from her shoulder indicated a pulled muscle. That was five killed so far. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had only had that one can of tuna. She wiped the bat shakily on the businessman's suit, and turned to look for the Rite Aid. And there it stood, in all its glory. She was about to laugh again when she heard something in the distance. The pounding of feet, screams. Her own scream, half sob, burned her throat. She had been too loud.

[SlainPwner666]

Wow, one of the original 411ers. I am honored. I have some things to do before I read this, so I'll say...

TL:DR

I shall comment later

Edit: Whats with the smile?

[HimuraKenshee]

not bad :D

[Captain awesome]

She needed to get away. Adrenaline resurged into her shaky limbs, and Beth was vaguely aware of moving. She never should have left the flat. What the fuck had she been think - focus. Outrunning them was impossible. She needed to find a place they couldn't get to. She needed to hide.

The howls behind her intensified as she broke left. They'd seen her. Get inside. The figures in her periphery were surging forward, and then she was flying through the jagged broken glass of the Rite Aid doorway. She cried out as a shard attached to the door slid smoothly through the skin over her cheekbone. Her feet landed on glass, slipped. She squeezed her eyes shut and brought her arms up. She fell not onto glass, but something soft. That was when the smell hit.

It was sickeningly sweet, clinging to her nostrils. Her eyes snapped open. A pool of red bathed her elbows. They were buried in a man's stomach. Tuna dribbled into what was left of the man's midsection as screams drifted through the doors behind her. Get up. A new surge of fear coursed through her as she wretched. She pushed herself up with the bat, spitting bile, and lurched deeper into the store.

Her thoughts flew desperately to the memory of that hazy night, the snack run. All she could remember was entering the store, and then laughing hysterically at John. No clue as to exits, just cheetohs and pizza. She screamed in frustration. More shrieks sounded behind her, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. The shelves ended, and she skidded to a stop. She was at the back of the store, staring at a rack of birth control tests and condoms. Feet pounded over the tiles behind her. Her eyes tracked left, and she saw it. A door stood open behind the pharmaceuticals counter. She was going to make it. Her feet had cleared the counter and she had a hand on the door handle when something caught her shoulder. Hot breath hit her neck.

Beth screamed, throwing an elbow behind her, and was rewarded with a grunt. The pressure on her shoulder fell away. An infected woman toppled forward over the counter without Beth for support, catching the fall with her face. More infected charged the counter, roaring. Three more steps. Beth backpedaled, keeping the bat in front of her, then she was through the door. She kicked it shut before the crawling woman could jam herself in it. The room plunged into darkness.

She went to move but her hip clipped something and then her head was ringing, throbbing in time with the cut on her cheek. She had found the wall. Blows creaked the door. Lights. Breath left her quickly as her hands flew over the wall's surface. It had to be there. A tiny nob brushed against her fingers. She flicked it. Light flooded the room, revealing a tiny office, complete with a single desk and corner plant. Ted's office, according to the small brass engraved plate sitting atop the desk. There was no doorway out. Wood splintered behind her. A bloody hand punched through the door, clutched at the jagged wood, pulled back. More hands began working at the hole, coming through almost as frequently as rage-filled calls. Beth screamed back at them. She was not going to die. They were going to have to work for it.

Ted's desk was heavy enough that Beth had to brace her feet against the wall, pushing with her back. She heard and felt the heavy oak drawers thud solidly against the door. Something brushed her hair. Beth tumbled forwards, shot up. The entire upper body of an infected boy was through the hole. Glazed eyes glared and he opened his mouth then the bat caught him in the temple. He slumped forward. The other infected were in a frenzy, entire sections of flimsy door material now falling to the onslaught. Soon more than one would be able to clamber through. Beth went to work as the boy slumped back off the desk.

Each hand that moved inwards was clubbed. A wrist broken here, fingers smashed there. She was shouting now, she didn't know what. The only thing constant in her head was that she needed to keep swinging. The infected on the other side of the door didn't relent. A woman in a police uniform put her head through, started crawling over the desk. Beth's third stroke, a full windup, sent her back through the door. Sweat stung Beth's eyes as she clubbed. She couldn't stop. Her muscles burned. If she stopped, she died. Anything, anyone that tried to enter was beaten. Men, women, children. The desk started to buck.

Beth slammed her body against it, jabbing with the bat. There were too many. A dripping hand managed to close around her weapon, slipped off. Two more clasped it. Curses flowed from her mouth, but the infected only seemed enlivened by the struggle.

A rapid chattering sounded outside the door, screams and dull thuds following quickly after. The bat almost slipped out of Beth's hands. The infected holding the other end was a large bearded man, easily over two hundred pounds. Leaning back with all her weight wasn't enough; the man jerked her forward. More screams and chattering. With a snarl and flexing of his arms the man pulled the bat out of Beth's hands, causing her to topple backwards. The desk rocked for a moment, then fell into the office. She was going to die. Done, game over. Despite this fact she found herself scrambling upright, laying her hands on Ted's swivel chair. The door flew apart in a shower of wood as the bearded man broke through. His head swiveled, locked onto her. Beth charged him, a roar of her own joining those of the infected.

Then the chattering was back, louder than before, and Beth was moving through a red mist. She couldn't see. A heavy weight slammed into the chair, and then colored lights were shooting across her vision. Beth slumped down the wall, felt warmth trickling down her neck. Something was pressing against the chair, wheezing. She tried to move, but her body responded sluggishly. The redness was all she could see, and the wheezing was getting closer. Or was it moving further away? She was vaguely aware of something dripping onto her face and that the infected had stopped roaring when darkness overtook her.

[SlainPwner666]

Very nice.

I'll be following this.

[Captain awesome]

Chapter 2

Beth screamed, blood from her upturned arm streaming onto her face, into her eyes. The thing on top of her opened its mouth to scream back at her, releasing her arm, then resumed its pummeling. A limb caught Beth in the cheek, filling her mouth with blood. Then hands seized Beth's arm again, pulling it upwards. The feral noises stopped; teeth began sinking into her flesh a second time. Panic spasmed her body, and the blood already drenching her arm caused it to slip from the thing's grasp. It shrieked, nearly toppling. Beth brought in a left fist as the strikes lulled. Then her hands shot forward, found a throat. Her teeth gritted. She wanted to inflict pain. Rage clamped her hands down, thumbs finding a the windpipe, crushing it. Gurgling filled the house.

At first the thing went berserk, arms slapping, hands raking anywhere they could find purchase on Beth. A hand slapped across her eyes, bringing tears. She dug her thumbs in harder. Her arms shook, dangerously weak. She couldn't hold it much longer. With a last burst of strength she heaved the thing to the side. The light from the television obscured it with shadow. Beth scrabbled backwards, found the bat, and stood. It was a person, a woman, judging by the long hair. Whoever it was crawled feebly for a moment, and Beth resisted the urge to swing. She steadied her nerves, and spoke, the burning in her chest somehow absent from her voice.

"Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you in my house?"

No response. Lights. Tensed, Beth inched closer to the woman, reached to turn on a lamp.

"If you make another move, I'll kill you. Got it?"

When she was a foot away the woman lunged from the ground. Beth hadn't taken her eyes off the woman. She lashed out with a foot, caught the woman, then swung. Her grip tightened over the wet haft of the bat, just managing to keep it in her hands as a dull thud registered in her ears. Neither of them stopped. The woman was on the ground now, but even as Beth hammered again and again, the woman's hands still clawed at Beth's legs, grasped them. The woman pulled herself closer, bit down on Beth's foot. The reaction was instant; Beth brought the bat down on the woman's head. A brittle cracking noise echoed through the house, and the woman stilled. Beth found the lamp, turned it on.

The room was bathed in horrid, revealing light. The fire in Beth disappeared. Dizziness hit and she wobbled, knees hitting the carpet. Her voice croaked out of a throat suddenly constricted.

"Mom?"

Beth woke screaming. Someone else was screaming too, she couldn't quite understand what. She tried to get up, but her vision swam and her head felt like it was going to explode. She fell back with a groan. Deep breaths. She was alive. Her eyes snapped open. Someone had spoken.

Turning her head, the first thing to greet her eyes was a bearded snarling face. Beth sobbed, tried to move back, but she was already pressed against the wall. This was it, she was dead, two weeks and now it was all over. There was a hole in his head.

"You have three seconds to say something before I shoot."

The voice was tense, hard. Beth looked over the bearded man's body. Pressed against the other wall of the tiny office was a man. Sweat ran down his face from under a ski cap, passing eyes that didn't blink. A muscle in his jaw twitched. The large rifle pointed in her direction was steady in his gloved hands. Beth's voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm alive."

Breath left the man noisily. Then he was moving, slinging his weapon on his back, pulling her to a sitting position. A hiss left her and the world blurred for a moment. The man was speaking again.

"You've been infected, I give you two hours tops. Before then, you're going to help me. I need some answers. Are there more of you? How many are there?"

It was a person. Someone else. He was speaking. Beth stared at him, trying to take in what was occurring. A small tuft of dark wet hair peeked below his cap. His eyes were gray and not murky at all. Her gaze moved lower to his heavy vest, cinched as tightly as it could go. It was adorned with the letters 'S.W.A.T.' She had trailed down to the holstered pistol on his leg when his hand pressed lightly on the side of her face, pulling her eyes back to his. He was asking questions again, brows drawing down. Beth spoke.

"Infected?"

The man swallowed, then brought his hand away from her face so she could see it. Blood matted the fabric of his fingerless glove.

"If you get any fluid from the infected into your body, it's only a matter of time. Before that, though, I need to know, are there oth-"

"I was bitten two weeks ago."

The man stopped speaking. Beth pulled the darkened left sleeve of her coat back, revealing the semi-circle of scar tissue. Immediately the man was prodding it, inspecting. His head jerked up, eyes wide.

"You're immune too?"

Immune. The thought had never occurred to Beth. The past weeks had been constant terror. Rationality had only returned when thirst and hunger had driven her from the attic. She had never asked herself why she wasn't like the others. The man was pulling her to her feet now, eliciting another groan. The world needed to stop spinning. The man was speaking.

"Are there any others?"

Beth shook her head, winced. The dull pain probably wasn't going to leave her head anytime soon, and she felt slightly dizzy, but these were being countered by pure elation. She wasn't alone. There were others. The smile that began forming turned into a wince as she felt tentatively at the back of her head.

"Listen, I have some supplies close to here, I can bandage your head, but we need to leave now. We made a whole lot of noise, there'll be more."

Beth nodded as he pressed a water bottle into her hands, unscrewing the cap. Half of it was gone before Beth stopped. Passing it back to him she stooped to pick up her bat, pulled it from the bearded man's lifeless hands. The motion almost unbalanced her and she swayed. The S.W.A.T. man was next to her in an instant, supporting her with an arm. He spoke rapidly of leaving, leading her past the desk, and out of the office. Then she saw them. At least a dozen bodies littered the floor just outside the door, some with shattered skulls, others with numerous large holes perforating their chests and limbs. Beth swallowed, kept her eyes up, and attempted to ignore the squelches accompanying their footsteps. She looked over at the man supporting her. His eyes never stopped moving, only staying in place for a moment before flicking elsewhere. Beth spoke.

"Thank you."

The man's eyes stopped on her for an instant, then resumed their survey of the store.

"Don't thank me till we get to safety."

"I would have been dead, um-"

"It's Kyle. And it's just lucky I was close and there weren't too many. Now, I think it's best if we stay quiet as possible. They tend to be more active during the day."

Beth pulled her voice down to a whisper.

"I'm Beth."

His right hand not supporting her was suddenly before her eyes. Beth clasped it with her left in an awkward, bloody shake. A slight smile curved her lips.

[HimuraKenshee]

good stuff...

[Jesus123]

Best stuff on this forums so far. I WANT MOAR!

[Crysalis]

MOAR!

second'd.

[Captain awesome]

So here is where the story shifts perspectives, and I was wondering what your reactions are. There will be multiple characters, but do you think the shift is jarring in any way?

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The woman, Beth, was limping slightly on Kyle's arm. He still couldn't believe it. Another person. Another immune person. He didn't think he'd find anyone else after the gates. The gates. A whirlwind of unbidden images flashed through his mind, too numerous to count; stretches of chainlink illuminated by muzzle flashes, a flood of people screaming, some with terror, others with feral intensity. People fell around him, mangled, showering the area with red. He was looking for Vivian, he needed to find Vivian. He pulled a breath in through his teeth, burning the images out of his mind. Nothing could be done about that now. Now, they needed to get back to the shelter.

Beth whispered something, detached herself from him. There were small clinking noises as she went quickly about filling her backpack with canned food. She seemed coherent now, though there was still a jittery aspect to her movements-a can slipped from her hands, landing in the pack with a muffled clank. They both froze. Silence greeted them. Kyle felt his own shoulders slump with Beth's. He debated leaving right then, not the least of which because of the stench, but his food supply had run low. That's what had brought him out of his shelter in the first place, what had led him to Beth. After turning to check the front of the store, he peered at her.

Red matted the back of her coat, and indeed most of her was covered in the color. Her dark brown hair was uneven, jagged, as though it had been hacked away. Patches of lighter material revealed the true green of her heavy coat, and her worn jeans were covered with dark streaks. The hiking boots on her feet stood unflinchingly in a gory pool the bat was dripping onto the store's floor. She had held them off for a while. It had been her screamed though coherent sentences that had drawn Kyle. A vague worry of the sanity of someone who referred to themselves in the third person took him. He shrugged it off; sanity had left this world, and he was truly glad that the infected hadn't had "tickets to the Beth buffet." Something like a chuckle began forming deep in his chest when something fell heavily in the back of the store.

Kyle's hands moved automatically, bringing the rifle off his back and into his hands, barrel facing the way they had come, eye coming in line with the site rail. About half of this magazine was left, and he had one more against his leg. Hopefully enough. Beth's eyes were wide, terrified, but the bat had come up in an instant. Kyle whispered her name, jerked a thumb over his back. He thought he saw her frown but then she was behind him. Despite every bodily indicator and chemical urging him to run he carefully placed his feet, muscles tensed. Soft metallic clicks emanated just behind him. Alarm coursed through his body. The food. Turning, Kyle went to whisper, but stopped as his mouth went dry.

It was a sniffing noise, sporadic, occasionally broken by a low growl. No doubt that it was inside. They had to get out of the building. Kyle found Beth's large eyes behind him, pointed to the front of the door, gave a nod. They started moving again. Whatever it was was making more noise now, tearing something. The bodies. Kyle swallowed at the thought of what those noises meant and moved faster. They were going to make it, just a few more steps. Glass skidded across the floor behind him followed by a frantic whisper from Beth, as Kyle bumped into her. The growl returned, and though Kyle was occupied with swallowing his heart, he almost thought that there was a curious aspect to it. They were just on the outskirts of the field of glass that was left of the entrance's doors. His throat strained to keep his voice down as he whispered to Beth.

At first her eyes widened, then shut tightly. Her mouth began moving silently, her breath quickening. Kyle barely suppressed a curse. Too much, she had had too much. His hand was reaching to shake her when another growl, this one seemingly on the other side of the shelf to their left snapped her eyes open. There was a small tremor in her arms, but her eyes were bright now. The nod she gave was all business. Kyle put three of the fingers on his right hand up. He brought one down. The sniffing came again, lingering. A second finger folded. There was a loud intake of breath followed by a hiss. As the third finger fell Kyle turned and bolted towards the store's entrance, Beth just ahead of him. Their feet crunched over broken glass, and the cans colliding in Beth's pack were like firecrackers in Kyle's ears. A howl rent the air behind them as they crashed through the doors and into the street.

[cocopop]

man ur storys fukin AWESOME!!

[UKMD Elmo]

Wow, only just discovered this thread. Very awesome writing man, I'm taking pointers here : )

[HimuraKenshee]

I love how u write it.. it's very good :D

[cocopop]

r u gonna write more ? :D

[Captain awesome]

Yeah, I'm just tweaking the next parts

[HimuraKenshee]

Yeah, I'm just tweaking the next parts

looking forward to your work :D

[Captain awesome]

Pain shot through Beth's leg as she slipped awkwardly on the glass littering the pavement, but then Kyle was pulling her up by the arm, moving her forward. The stabbing sensation pulsed with every other step, but the noises coming from behind forced it from her mind. The end of the block approached, and then the howl was outside, bouncing off the surrounding buildings. Kyle spun her around the corner. When the world had reoriented itself she saw that Kyle was crouched facing the way they'd come, the rapid cracks of his rifle drowning out the snarling. His head jerked upwards. A shadow covered him.

It was too fast for Beth to track; one instant Kyle was in front of her, then he was gone. His yell pulled her eyes to the left; he was on the ground, an infected woman straddling him. One of the woman's hands reached in, took hold, yanked away. Dark red streaks splattered the pavement and Kyle shrieked, vainly raising his arms. The woman batted them away and slashed again. If he died she would be alone. Beth wound the bat back. As she sprinted she aimed for the woman's spine.

Only a grunt was given to acknowledge the blow, and then one dripping hand shot back toward Beth and she found herself facedown on the pavement. Blood and grit mixed in her mouth and sounds came to her as though through a heavy glass door. Screams, not infected. Kyle's screams. Beth pushed herself unsteadily to her hands and knees, almost slipping as her left hand landed on something uneven. It was the rifle. Beth scooped it up as she rolled onto her back, forced her eyes to focus. The woman's hands raked over Kyle, quickly, efficiently, eliciting more screams. No noises came from the woman; she was entirely focused, froth dripping from her bared teeth. The weapon was heavy, shivering in Beth's arms, but she brought the sight-rail up to her eye. The infected woman was directly in the center of the tiny circle. Beth squeezed the trigger.

A series of deafening explosions later, Beth found herself looking at the cloudless sky. There was no noise excepting the ringing in her ears. Then there was a low sound. Kyle. Beth sat up, and collapsed forward. The world was still spinning as she drug herself over to him. The woman was slumped to one side, bleeding profusely from numerous holes that ran up the side of her body. Beth heaved her off. She felt her chest constrict. The ground beneath Kyle was slick, dark. One gloved hand clutched at his neck, liquid seeping through the darkened material. His other arm, ragged, twitched feebly. Beth was speaking, rambling. This wasn't happening. He wasn't going to die.

"It's alright, you're fine, you're fine, we just need to get you up. You're fine, come on, get up. Look at me, look at me!"

His hand came away easily, and a sound, half joy half sob, racked her. Kyle's neck was bleeding, but there weren't any jets of blood. The jugular hadn't been cut. Her hands moved quickly as she shrugged off her coat, grabbing the small pocket knife her father always kept in its top left pocket. She cut one of the long sleeves off her shirt, lifted his head up. He groaned, eyes clamping shut, but soon she had him holding the makeshift bandage against the wound. His voice was strained, broken by pained breathing. She had to ask him to repeat himself.

The gun. Of course. It was lying a few feet away, surrounded by shell casings. After slinging it on her back, Beth looped one of his arms around her neck and struggled upright. A trip sent them both to the ground and Kyle screamed. They needed to move. Every noise they made echoed, and as a headache replaced the ringing in Beth's head, terror again squeezed her insides.

"How far to the safehouse?"

Kyle's good arm gestured down the street, and Beth barely caught the "Six blocks" that hissed through his teeth. They started hobbling in that direction. By the first block, adrenaline had cleared Beth's mind, and she found herself trying to watch every way at once, eyelids stretched all the way back. Warmth spread over her shoulder as the bandage on Kyle's neck saturated. His feet began to drag, and his eyes dulled. Beth was speaking to him constantly, keeping him awake. She couldn't carry him forever. Soon his responses were incomprehensible mutters, and his head lulled. Beth tried to keep her voice from breaking. How many more blocks? A few? Alright, alright, good. They were going to make it. Keep moving, just keep moving. And then, as Kyle slumped fully against her, Beth saw the building. Spray paint decorated its side, and somehow lent energy to her. She dragged Kyle toward it, toward the signs, "Alive Inside," "Safety."

[HimuraKenshee]

wow that was unexpected O.O"

[Captain awesome]

Is that bad?

[Easton Dark]

To put in an example: Rape is unexpected, so yes.

[Captain awesome]

Do you not like it? I really want to know if it detracts from the story.

[HimuraKenshee]

Is that bad?

not bad. it add's some twist to teh story ! :D

[Captain awesome]

Pain. It was everywhere, cascading over his body in waves, forcing the small breaths he could suck in through clenched teeth. Someone was talking to him but he couldn't comprehend what was being said. The noise was urgent, scared. Kyle tried to open his eyes and sit up. Blackness.

Senses returned to him slowly this time. There was no noise. Deep full breaths stretched his chest, causing a slight ache, but nothing compared to before. His neck was another matter entirely and made itself known when he tried to straighten up. Fire ignited just below his jaw, which clenched as he fell back, and then someone was over him speaking low and soft, and something warm and wet was pressed against his face. Kyle breathed slowly and evenly till the pain subsided. He opened his eyes. He was in his room, his safehouse.

Beth stood over him, a washcloth brown with old blood in her hand, eyes almost sparkling. A slight shiver ran along Kyle's arm as he rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hand her eyes had lost their glassy quality.

"About time you got up."

Her voice was very quiet, and Kyle was about to reply when the series of recent events crashed into his skull. He tried to sit up fully, and again was reduced to hissing. Beth pressed a bottle of water into his hand. Her voice had lost it's warm quality.

"Lay down you moron, you got fucked up."

Kyle's brows furrowed as the pain subsided. He turned to look at her. Beth's face was still caked with dried blood, and the previously dark stains on her coat had dulled. She hadn't even bandaged the slash on her cheek, which had become puffy and red. She was glaring at him. He went to speak, coughed. Even after a gulp of water words still rasped his throat.

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days."

Two days. A lot could happen in that amount of time. His stomach rumbled. With a grunt he forced himself into a sitting position, and waited for the pounding in his skull to stop before opening his eyes again. Beth was offering a can to him, and the sweet aroma emanating from it pulled another growl from his stomach. Peaches. The flavor was wonderful, and Kyle sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. Beth laughed softly.

"Glad to see you like 'em. Hell, I'm just glad you can sit up and eat. There were a few times when I thought you weren't going to make it."

Kyle tried to respond, but decided that it would be better to finish the wad of peaches when some syrup dripped from his mouth. Beth continued as he chewed.

"You were pretty delirious. Kept calling out for someone."

There was a question in it, in her eyes. Kyle gulped the peach in his mouth down and spoke rapidly.

"I'm sure I said a lot of fucking things."

His tone was harsh, abrupt. Beth froze, then her eyes moved away from his to the carpet. He hadn't wanted to say it that way, he wanted to apologize, but he couldn't; the images were coming again and he had to stop them. He could feel and hear his jaw clench. Beth was looking at the floor, poking her fork around the inside of the can. Kyle focused on her. She was someone, a fellow human. She was now, she was the present. He spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Beth gave a slow shake of the head.

"No, it's fine."

They sat there, Beth looking at her piece of floor, Kyle at his bandaged side, until Beth gestured to the corner with two shotguns and the assault rifle.

"Is this the gear from your, uh, unit?"

"Unit?"

"You're with, you were with the police, right?"

Oh. Kyle's eyes brushed over the tactical vest lying on the foot of the bed. No, no he wasn't. He'd found them, he explained. There was a blockade where they tried to hold, four blocks from the safe house. The sentence almost caught in Kyle's throat, but he forced it out. Good find, Beth said. Kyle nodded slowly. Yeah, good find.
Beth scooped the last of the peaches from her can, then drained it. She wiped a sleeve across her mouth.

"Well, Kyle, maybe this is a stupid question, but do you have a plan?"

[Captain awesome]

Chapter 3

The being that had been Benjamin Wells stumbled through what was left of a quickstop. Food littered the floor, but he did not note it, he only staggered on, mind ablaze, searching. Something clanked to the ground somewhere behind him. The being that had been Benjamin Wells growled and turned, aiming down the aisle, towards where the noise had come from. Boxes of cereal and condiments amongst other things scattered over the floor before his feet as he homed in. A second noise came, this time much closer and much louder. Benjamin Wells moved faster, muscles tensed, and rounded the corner of aisle 6 just in time to see a can arc and fall to the floor directly before him. He stared at it. Then a hand was meshed in his hair, pulling his head back, and something cold slid across his throat. The being that had been Benjamin Wells was shoved forward to squirm and gurgle in a growing pool of his own fluids. Despite his sapping strength he managed to roll over onto his back, trying to get at his attacker. That's when the cold thing came again this time piercing through his left eye and up into his brain. Red filled his good eye and he thrashed and rasped through the opening in his neck. A final series of noises came to him as he faded, and if he had been the original Benjamin Wells, then he would have recognized it as laughter, followed by a sentence.

"Game over, dumbfuck."

* * *

Kalli Edwards looked at the man twitching on the floor. He was wearing jeans that were too tight, sneakers, and a polo shirt, again, too tight. His collar was popped. Probably a douche in real life too. The man's limbs were still twitching. Kalli grabbed the knife and twisted. Stillness. She looked about her. Many of the products littering the floor were smashed or already opened, but there was a passable box of Cocoa Puffs resting in the blood. Kalli picked it up. The plastic hadn't been broken, so she discarded the box, opened the bag, and took a mouthful. Not even stale, and one couldn't expect fresh, untouched cereal these days. It was deliciously sugary. Kalli plopped herself down on the man's stomach and shifted till she was comfortable.

"You make a good seat for someone so fucking scrawny."

She had scoped the area earlier, and it had been empty till polo-douche had shown up. She was sure that he had been a douche in real life. Most certainly. How much had he paid for those jeans? That polo? Not that those things really mattered anymore, but still. Douche. Having resolved this question, Kalli Edwards munched her cereal, and wondered things she had wondered numerous times already. Was she the last person left? Maybe; she hadn't seen anyone for a week besides that one man fleeing and screaming in the streets. He was probably dead. Would she survive? Maybe. She hadn't turned like everyone else. And it wasn't like she was going to give up, or run screaming through the streets like a dumbass. No, that wouldn't happen. A last thought came and it made her smile like it always did.

Would she have fun? Most definitely.

[sconic23]

No more? This is a great strory so far. I'm intrigued.

[HimuraKenshee]

another fanfic dead ...

[Captain awesome]

not dead, just on the back burner