Young Writers Society

"Darkness save me, for I have sinned. I saw a man being chased yesterday, but did nothing. I haven't helped a soul since this all began."

The world is in shambles. After a strange disease swept across the world, few people are left alive. You'd heard rumours that England is a safe zone, although there are no means to get there. You're trapped in a wasteland, and your days are numbered.

Plot

It has been fifteen years since a disease ravaged the world. You are lucky - or unlucky - to have survived. You have been wandering aimlessly, salvaging anything that seems useful. Food is a real cause for concern. There isn't a lot you cand find, so you've resorted to stealing or eating things you never thought you would. Wild vegetables, small animals like rabbits or squirrels, anything you can catch, becomes food. Life is harsh, but you're kinda getting by. Then you start to hear rumours from passing survivors or those you steal from about a safe zone. England had shut off from the world first hearing of the disease.

So whats stopping you from going? The hordes of Infected waiting near ports and harbours, in cities, roaming the wilds. You have managed to survive this long, but who's to say you'll live to get to safety. The only thing that seems to be of any benefit, that you can see of course, is finding a group of other survivors that can help you.

They can't just be some ragtag, feral people. They need skills to help you, of course. Obviously a navigator, someone that is strong, someone that can fight close up, someone that can do ranged damage, someone that is good at scavanging and someone that can lead. The more people you have with most of those skills the better, bearing in mind it is more dangerous the more peoeple there are.


The Infected

So what is it exactly we're up against? They've been dubbed The Infected. They're not exactly dead, better described as dying. You can hear them long before you see them, piercing, twisted screams haunting your mind. They're screams of pain, because the Infected are in complete agony. They are covered in a furry, black mould that grows from open wounds. Any visible skin is rotting and decayed, sometimes falling off the body to dangle on the ground, leaving the Infected with a haunting, grizzled effect. Their eyes are white, and they rely on their other senses to find you. The more decayed Infected seem to find movement difficult, so they're not too much of a hassel. When the disease has taken over a body completely, they are planted to the ground and turn into a mound of black, oozing mould. The earlier the creature is infected, the faster it is. And the Infected aren't just humans. Anything can be infected, ranging from dogs to rats to bears to people. Ths only animals seemingly immune are reptiles and birds. Well, and a few people and animals that, no matter how many times they're bitten, they remain in reasonable health. These people and animals have been dubbed The Immune.


The Disease

No one knows where it came from or how to fight it. The disease started in North America, the country hit the hardest by the disease. It spread rapidly, having different effects on different people and animals, but every victim growing black mould from open wounds. When the disease has taken over an entire body of its host, it starts to take root, sending its tendrils right into the ground where it slowly drags the dead body down with it. These mounds of black mould can send out spores when disturbed, which if breathed in, will infect those not immune. Some people believe that the disease was created by terrorists of the government, but there is no proof, and those that could have sought a cure are dead. Some people or creatures seem stronger than others, the disease taking longer to take hold. The first signs someone has been infected is the whiteness of their eyes, which indicates blindness. This effect can take twelve hours to three days, but is the first sign regardless. The second symptom is the black mould growing out of any open wounds like paper cuts or bite marks. Later stages, the mould breaks through the skin to keep growing.


The Immune

Whether they've been exposed to the mould or bitten by an Infected, the Immune don't contract the disease. It cant be determined what makes a person immune, either. Over active immune system, blood types, gemetics, cell mutations, could be anything. Those not immune seem bitter and snide toward those that are. Those immune are grateful, but have to watch the world die around them. There is also a possibility that the Immune are carriers of the disease, but that isn't certain. After an Immune has come into contact with the mould of an Infected, their body kills the disease before they are infected. When this happens, an aspect of their body changes, usually diminishing. Hair colour could fade, or eye colour or even skin colour. Body fat or muscle might go down, or features of limbs might warp a little. Those Immune that have been exposed to the disease can usually be picked out of a crowd, but sometimes not.


Character Profile



Rules




If there are any questions, feel free to PM me, or post in the DT. Enjoy :3

The WFP link: http://basil.writerfeedpad.com/1

Wyvern

For the first time in a long time, the night is quiet. The fire crackles away merrily, casting eerie shadows around the room, light dancing over a broken bed, shattered chest of drawers and a cracked mirror. Dust has settled over everything, a set of footsteps the only indication that this place hasn’t been entirely forgotten. A strange sound outside makes me jump. When I hear it again, I relax, chuckling wryly. It’s just a wood duck or something. My eyes return to the footsteps in the dust. My footsteps in the dust. I should either wipe all the dust off the floors, or try and unsettle some so they’re gone. But does it matter? I can’t really get infected, so I don’t need to worry about those damn things.

In the distance I hear some screaming, and put the fire out. I crawl over to the broken window and lift my head to peer into the darkness, bow close at hand. This house is two storey, and I’m on the second floor, so I feel relatively safe. Unless the Infected is a bear, I’m not too worried about being near the window.

My eyes, now adjusted to the lack of light, catch sight of a shadow darting across the unkept lawn of the house. Another shadow follows, letting out an ear-piercing scream. I grab my bow and an arrow, and lean out the window. I draw the arrow back and aim at the screaming shadow racing toward the house, following another shadow. It leaps forward, and catches the first shadow. I release my arrow and draw another one, firing instantly. The Infected lets out a scream and becomes silent. I grab my sheathe of arrows and rush from the room, down the creaking stairs, and out the front door. I stop dead in my tracks at the sight on the front porch.

A girl is lying on her back, sobbing pitifully, clutching at her mangled legs. I remember being in a similar position before, and something tugs at my heart. But only for a second. I walk over to the girl and bend down beside her. She looks up at me, her big brown eyes teary, her lips trembling as she cries. There is blood slowly leaking from a wound in her leg, the black mould already starting to grow. I glance at her eyes to fine them starting to film over. I’ve never seen someone get infected so quickly before, and I’m amazed this girl has lasted so long.

“Please help me,” she rasps, her voice starting to take on a whining pitch.

With my lips pressed firmly together, I pull a knife out from my belt, and the girl’s eyes widen in fear. She tries to back away from me, but I remain where I am. She just sits there, her eyes beginning to white over. I watch as thee black mould starts to crawl over her legs, climbing up her hips and digging into her stomach. She starts to whimper, her eyes almost all white. I creep forward, and this time she doesn’t back away from me. I walk over to her and hold her head with one hand. I brace myself as she starts to struggle, her whimpers becoming low moans of pain. Before the moans grow louder, I slam the blade through her skull. She falls limp against my legs, and I let her fall to the ground. A part of me knows she needs a proper burial, but in the dark it’s too dangerous.

”Wyvern!” Alexis whines.

“Don’t cry about it,” I snap at her as I unhook the rabbit’s foot from the trap. It struggles in my grip, making little crying sounds. “We need food.”

“But it’s just a fluffy bunny,” Alex gives me a look, her green eyes wide.

“Yes, and if I don’t bring something home, Mum will be mad,” I retort.

Alexis starts to cry. Sighing, I put the rabbit down and sit in the grass. Alexis wipes the tears off her face and crawls into my lap. I stroke her long black locks away from her face and start to hum the lullaby Mum would sing to me when all this started. Alexis starts to sing with me, and within moments we’re laughing and playing around with the lyrics.

“Thank you Wyvvie,” Alex wraps her arms around my neck, kissing my cheeks.

“Yeah, but don’t tell Mum,” I boop her nose with mine and stand up, hugging her to my chest. “Let’s go home.”

I rub at my eyes with the back of my hand, stopping myself from crying. I wipe my blade on the dead girl’s shirt and sheathe it. Spinning around to walk back inside, I pause in my tracks, every one of my senses on edge. A low growl sounds from behind me, a sound I hate above all others. Slowly, I turn around, taking my bow off my back. Standing at the bottom of the steps, black drool oozing from its tattered and rotting jaw, is an Infected that was once a bear. It lets out a low growl again and bunches it’s legs up beneath its boy before it lets out an agonised scream and lunges toward me.

My feet move before my brain even registers what’s happening. My bow is up with an arrow notched. I don’t even aim, and let the arrow loose. It hits the Infected in the face, but it doesn’t go down. I spin around and run off, into the house. I dart up the stairs, and kick at the railing. As the Infected barrels after me, up the stairs, the wood groans and collapses. I dart back into the dusty room and grab my travel pack, and any of my belongings. I sling the pack over my back and secure my sheathe of arrows to my back. Pulling out a knife, I go back to the stairs just as the Infected reaches the landing. I kick it in the head but it still doesn’t go down. I bring the knife over my head and stab it in the skull over and over until it falls with a loud crash onto the piles of shattered wood below. I straighten, breathing hard, and look down at the bloodied mess below. Shuddering at the close call, I turn around and walk over to the attic door. I pull it down and climb up into the attic.

I’ll wait the night out. Screw it. Thinking I’ll have a normal night is just stupid.

I set up my things and curl up in a pile of musty blankets. After sneezing for five minutes straight, I manage to fall asleep. It feels like I’d only closed my eyes for a second when a sound wakes me. I hear shuffling below, and slowly climb over to grab my bow. I’m about to rush to the attic door to shoot the Infected when I hear a voice. I don’t know if the person is talking to another or themselves, and it’s too muffled for me to determine the gender of the voice.

Looking around for an escape route, I spot a window with a cupboard shoved up against it, letting in wan light. I grab my pack and start to crawl toward the window when I hear a creaking sound, and the attic door opens up. I freeze in place, and peer over my shoulder as someone walks up the stairs and into the attic.

Matt Walker

There were low moans all around as the Infected shuffled around me, some only an arm's reach away and some farther, but certainly none closer. My knife made sure of that. There's a noise suddenly as screaming emanates from the smokey air. They scream when there's prey nearby. A person? How long has it been since I saw another person? A real person? I pick up my pace and start running, dodging the stray grabs of the mindless creatures in the street before emerging from the haze and seeing her, a girl trying to escape the shrieking man on her heels. I pull my pistol from my belt but hesitate. I need the ammo, though... There's a sickening noise as the former-man catches the girl and digs into the flesh of her legs. The Infected man lets out another scream but this one is cut suddenly short.

What the...

An arrow sprouts from the creature's forehead and he falls silent and collapses to the ground. A bow. An archer... I replace the gun in my waistband and crouch low, heading for the ruined fence and watching carefully for further movement. The back door opens with a creak and a girl steps out cautiously, bow still in hand. My eyes widen in shock. I'm not the only one? She looks like me... She's quite an archer... My fingers slide along the bowstring of my own, currently slung across my back. The girl pulls a knife and kneels beside the terrified and injured woman as the blackness creeps up her legs. Poor girl. There are a number of moans and whimpers before the white haired girl brings down the blade and the night is made quiet again. She cleans the knife in the grass before spinning on her heels and heading for the door. There's a growl from the other side of the yard from where I crouch and my heart seems to stop. Oh shit. A rotting black form lumbers forwards and into the moonlight. A bear. My eyes can't even leave the monster's gruesome face before another arrow appears in its eye. Dead shot and fast too... The bear lets out a deadly noise and barrels forwards, following the girl as she sprints back inside.

A split decision is made and I pull my pistol once more, running for the open door and taking aim before the bear disappears up the stairs after the woman. For a moment, there is no sound besides the scrabbling claws against the wood floors, but then there is a wet sound and the creature tumbles into the ruined stairs below. It takes all that I have to keep myself from pulling the trigger at the surprise, but as the beast goes still, I tuck the gun away again and pull my knife before stepping cautiously over the corpse and heading up the destroyed staircase. There is another noise and I freeze. She's going to the attic. The springs squeak as the attic door is lowered, followed by footsteps as the girl ascends.

I've got to ask about her hair and skin. Did it happen after the outbreak or is she albino? But what if she's hostile?

That's a risk worth taking. It's been nearly four years since I saw another real person...

I must have tossed this around in my head for half an hour before throwing doubt to the wind and I sheathe my knife, heading for the attic door, taking care not to make too much noise until of course I slip on the dusty step and ending with my foot in a pile of broken sheetrock. "The one time you have to be quiet and you trip. Good job Matt." I had gotten into a habit of chiding myself in the past years, and so I only realize my mistake after the words leave my mouth. My hand claps across my face. You idiot! Now she definitely knows you're here!

I grit my teeth and steel myself for the arrow that will probably meet me soon before pulling the door down and heading up, probably faster than would be prudent, and step into the dusty attic. The girl seems to be gone for a moment, but I stop her in the far end, laying prone beside the window and looking back over her shoulder with a mixture of feelings visible on her face. I crouch instantly in reaction and clear my throat.

"It's ok, I-" My voice doesn't even sound like my own anymore. "I haven't seen anyone else in years. Any real people, I mean. I'm Matt. Are you..... like me?" I gesture to my skin and hair. "I thought I was the only one..."

"Is there such a thing as too much of a good thing?
I ask myself that everyday
That is until the weekend comes and the sun has gone away to sleep
Then there's only one thing on my mind."

Jeremiah sang to himself under his breath, as he beat his way through the undergrowth. He had been following a path of sorts, but he was beginning to doubt that he was still on it. Nevermind. He had been lost for the past couple of weeks anyway, so what harm could being a bit more lost do? He needed to set up camp soon enough anyway, and he'd rather be off the track for that anyway. Easier to find a suitable pair of trees for his hammock tent, and he could set up a wire trap or too as well. Sure, whatever he caught was as likely to be infected as not, but some of the animals seemed better off than humans, and he'd caught quite a few rabbits since setting traps. Probably something to do with rapid breeding and natural selection, he thought to himself.
He stopped singing, and the forest fell completely silent. There was no wind, and the air felt humid, though the sky was clear. He looked up at the unpolluted clear sky, and temporarily night blinded himself from the stunningly bright half-moon. He had a few candles, and an emergency torch, but it seemed pointless to waste them on a night like this.
Time to set up camp. He started assembling his tent hammock. Quite high up, he didn't want to take any chances, and the trees weren't too hard to climb here. He had eaten some time earlier, and decided not to start trapping, (it would take too long to find animal tracks in the dark,) so the only thing left to do was check the radio. He carried a portable clockwork radio, and listened nightly for any short wave transmissions. It was a practice he had picked up from the last small group of survivors he had encountered, but ended up leaving due to their strict rationing. As usual, nothing but white noise. He sighed, and turned it off, before climbing up into his tent, and falling asleep.

Samuel was probably one of the stranger survivors. He didn't both with hiding himself until he was in the city. He would just walk down the road, his military combat boots crunching on the dry dirt. The small cul-de-sac was rather quiet. Seems that the infected in the area had moved on in search of more that they could infect. He adjusted the straps of the pack he wore before his left hand rested on the pommel of somewhat ornate longsword at his hip.

Brushing the hair out of his eyes, muttering something about a hair cut, he moved into the darkened streets. It was the quietest place he had ever been in since hell arrived on earth. In the darkened streets he was little more than a shadow in his black clothing. The cloth over his face hid his features and provided some protection to the disease when it was airborne.

Stepping into one of the houses he did a quick look over of the first room. Living room with a couch and a pair of TV trays aimed toward the box television. Closing the door behind him, Samuel made his way into the house slowly. A sudden shuffle of a chair scraping on tile made him freeze. Across from him, a woman shuffled into view. Still dressed in a nightgown. that was torn an bloody, she turned her white eyes to him. She would have seemed like the nice grandmother type, someone you could easily imagine carrying a tray of cookies everywhere she went. The black mold having nearly consumed her completely, leaving half of her face and her arm still bare, for the moment.

Samuel drew his sword with a soft rasp of steel as the woman suddenly turned to him. Before she could give off her signal, Samuel rushed forward and drove his sword through her skull, pinning her against the wall. A moan signaled him to a second body and he drew one of the many daggers on the belt across his chest and threw it a the form he saw in the darkness. The flying steel managed to bury itself into the throat of the person, though this didn't stop it from lunging at him. The older man, no doubt the husband of the once-woman that now hung against the wall, tackled Samuel and bit down on the forearm that Samuel brought up to defend himself.

Grabbing another dagger, Samuel drove it into the man's skull, making him go rigid for a moment before falling limp to the side. Samuel slowly stood up again, a large hole in the fabric of his sleeve revealing the hidden metal plate that had protected Samuel from being bitten. Collecting his weapons, and cleaning them off, he searched the cupboards for food. None of which was edible anymore.

Samuel left the house as the sun was starting to rise and continued down the road. He paused when he was a strange scene in front of him. Two infected laying in front of a house. What made it strange was the arrow that protruded from the man's head like some sort of horn. He had been infected for at least a week. The girl looked fresh, but the spread of the mold didn't fit. He noted the wound in the girl's skull and guessed that she had been taken care up before she fully turned. He rested the back of his fingers against the girl's forehead. Still warm Samuel thought to himself. Whoever did this is nearby. Samuel turned trying to guess which direction the person must have gone, completely unaware that they were just a few floors above him through the attic window.

Wyvern

"I thought I was the only one..."

I stare at him in shock. I don't know if it's because his hair is white, his skin is very pale and his eyes are a colourless grey, or if it's because he's the most attractive person I've ever seen. He has an almost frightened look on his face, probably mirroring my own. But he looks more curious and cautious than afraid. Definitely not like my own. When he makes to move toward me I spin around, butting planted on the dusty ground, and I pull a knife out.

"Stay back," I snarl.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he holds his hands up.

"Then don't move," I slowly push myself to my feet and walk around him, towars the attic door.

"Wait, please, just tell me if you know why my hair changed colour," he says, an urgent note in his voice.

"I don't," I step onto the ladder leading out of the attic. "My hair just started changing a few years ago. Now if you'll excuse me ..."

I rush down the ladder and over to the broken staircase. The smell of the dead Infected makes me gag, stumbling away from the stairs and dropping my dagger. The floorboards creak behind me and the white haired man stands near the staircase, looking at the Infected, a hand over his nose and mouth.

"That's a huge Infected," he says, voice muffled by his hand.

"And it's dead," I huff, trying not to dry wretch.

"I don't think we're alone," he looks at me, grey eyes wide.

I walk over to the stairs and follow his gaze. A person is walking around outside, toward the front door. Instantly my bow is out and loaded. The guy beside me chuckles and pulls out a bow to rival mine. His is probably a real bow with real string and real arrows instead of my handmade, gut-string bow with shitty carved arrows. It's sturdy, but not the best.

"Nice bow," I find myself commenting.

"Thanks, nice aim," he grins at me.

"Nice face, but if you annoy me I'll break it," I narrow my eyes at him.

He blinks at me. "Hostile much?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Annoying much?" I retort.

The man chuckles and rolls his eyes. Annoyed, I stalk down the staircase, careful to avoid the huge hole in the wood, and creep over to the door. I wait for the person to walk and find myself staring at someone well equipped for this world. I take a second to compose myself before lifting my bow and aiming it at his face.

"Right," I begin. "You can just move away. From the door, that is," I growl out.

He gives me a curious look, stepping back. He doesn't seem afraid at all, not even afraid of the arrow pointed right between his eyes. He probably thinks I won't shoot him. Well, he's right, unless he threatens me.

"Wait!" The other man calls, running down the stairs toward me. I spin in his direction and let my arrow loose. It hits the spot right next to his foot, and he jumps back in surprise. "Hey!" He yells.

"You too, Whitey," I snap.

"Whitey?" He growls.

I back out of the house, and then realise I'd dropped my knife upstairs. Oh well, I can find another one. It's only one knife. I have two more.

Sprinting across the unkept front yard, I dart around a corner and keep running down the street, my feet taking me as far away from the first humans I've interacted with in three years. That's just too much for me.

The road seems to stretch on, so I make a turn and end up pushing my way through dense forest and undergrowth. After a while of walking and sweating, I sit down and riffle through my travel pack to pull out some dried rabbit meat. As I chew on it, I let my mind drift away. Yesterday I found a whole bunch of mounds. I accidentally kicked one on purpose, sending spores flying into the air. I think I breathed some in, too, but I've come to realise that I won't get infected. This anomaly was discovered when I first encountered an Infected after I'd left home.

Left home. Jeez, sounds so casual. Shaking my head, I get up and keep walking. The day seems to just go, and when I stop to take another breather, the sky is darkening. Sitting down against a tree, I pull some more food out of my pack – stale bread, dried rabbit meat and a can of kidney beans – I have my dinner and then curl up in a tight ball in the leaf litter. My eyes drift shut, and a small smile plays at my lips.

Samuel paused in his inspection as he heard the voice behind him. He turned his bright emerald eyes to her and quickly inspected her. She didn't look well...but then again who did in this world? Her hair was white and her eyes slightly faded, though that definitely wasn't blindness from the way that she aimed that arrow at him. He probably could get one of his knives and throw it before she had a chance to loose an arrow, but what would be the point.

He stepped out of her way, though his eyes never left hers. It would appear that he didn't fear her. If she was willing to draw the bow then she was willing to shoot it too. The look in his eyes was not a lack of fear, but simply a lack of caring. He didn't really care if he lived or died. That was life for him. You make it another day or you end up a pile of mold on the ground. He heard the rushing of the man behind her, at first he thought that they might be together, with that white hair. However, when she released her arrow, nearly putting it through the other man's foot, he quickly gathered that they weren't together.

She ran off after that. He didn't chase after her. She didn't have anything that was worth getting injured over. Besides, he could do just fine on his own. With her gone that only left the other man. He looked young, a lot younger than Samuel was, not that he looked his age in any stretch of the imagination. He didn't know what the guy would do now that there was just the two of them. He remained silent as he watched the man's movements carefully.

Matt Walker

Geez, I knew she was apprehensive of me, but was that necessary? I look down at the arrow, still quivering in the wood floor beside my foot. It would seem that others are even more cautious towards others than myself...

Before I can truly react, the girl is out the door and has disappeared into the night. "Well, so much for those answers." I mumble before cautiously replacing my bow upon my back and raising my hand slightly, trying to be unthreatening and taking a few steps further down the stairs and placing my gaze on the newcomer's face. "She seemed real friendly, huh?" Damn, I need to talk more. My voice sounds more like sandpaper than a person... Matt took a quick assessment of the man, the way his fingers whispered beside his belt, where rows of knives were visible, poking out from underneath his jacket.

"There's no need for any violence right? I'm Matt." I pause to gather my racing thoughts. More talking than I've done in the past four years in one night. "What's your name?"

I let my own hand drift down to my own belt for my gun. I'd bet he knows how to use those knives. Only fair to be on even ground... "I don't want any trouble, so if you wouldn't mind I'd just as soon pretend we never met." At that moment, the handheld radio at my belt took the opportunity to belch static before easing down into legible english.

"If there's anyone out there, anyone that can hear me, we are a group, 23 strong and we are heading for England. People have said that it's safe there. Again, if there's anyone out there that can hear this, England is now safe, and clean; Uninfected. We-... I hope you can make it. If you hear this, spread the word! Tell everyone you meet and get here as soon as you can! We will be wai-" The radio cuts out to static once more and I push the power button in annoyance. "Damn thing only works about half the time. The other half there's no one to talk to." The man still hasn't spoken and has a strange look about him. Please don't be like them...

Samuel looked over the man that now came out of the house. Seemed to be more of the talkative sort. His voice was a little raspy, probably from the lack of use. Matt made it quite evident that even though he didn't want to fight, he wasn't afraid to get into it. Matt seemed to be one of the more calm individuals. Of course, that could all be an act.

Even though his instincts were screaming at him to not fall for it, his hand slowly slid away from the daggers. Just before he was going to speak he heard the radio go off at his hip. The message was garbled but most of it got through. Survivors. A few had mentioned a radio broadcast about England. He hadn't believed it until it was actually happening. Looking to the man he sighed as he reached up and pulled down his mask.

"My name is Samuel," he said in a rather flat voice. "I have no intention of harming you as long as you make no attempt to harm me." Looking at Matt again he tilted his head to one side before speaking. "Let me guess. No matter how many spores you inhale or how many bites or scratches you receive you don't turn into one of them. No real explanation why. It just seems to happen that way. But with each interaction your hair gets whiter and your features get paler. Am I getting pretty close?"

Harry Falconer

I moved softly through the suburbs of the long abandoned town. Blitz, my pet wolf walked at my side, equally quiet. Sally (My fellow escapee from the slave camps of Yuko) whispered to me, "This place is eerie."

I nodded in silent agreement, but I wasn't really listening. Instead, i kept my eye out for Infected, and other enemies. In our dark clothing, I doubted Sally I would be spotted by any of Yuko's men if we had been on our own, but Blitz's fur made us stick out like a sore thumb.

Blitz had originally been dark grey, but he had been bitten so many times over the years that his fur had become snow white. However, leaving him behind was not an option I considered. He had saved my life many times over the years, too many to count. I depended on him for many things, and had grown attached to the wolf.

Sally grumbled beside me, "What are we doing here? This place is about to fall down!"

I cursed in Greek under my breath (I had grown up bilingual, being a Greek born in America and had found being bilingual very useful more than once). Sally's constant complaints and criticism were incredibly annoying most of the time, but truthfully, she was my only friend in a world ruled by chaos.

Sally continued to complain, but I managed to tune her out (literally) by putting in ear plugs and listening to my Ipod (modified to solar charge by my father). Listening to Top of the World by Imagine Dragons (now long dead) made my life seem a lot more bearable. I brushed back my hair, revealing the seven pointed star that Yuko had had burned into my forehead to show that i was his property.

Sally continued to prattle on, not even glancing at me. She was one of those people who liked talking for the sake of talking, and just assumed that people were listening.

As we came to house a bit further from the others, Blitz started growling. I took out my ear plugs and took out my pistol from its holster immediately. Blitz's instincts were never wrong, and he knew when danger was nearby.

Sally took the hint and lifted her crossbow. Our weapons weren't the best, but they were all we had the time to steal from Yuko's stock before running.

Suddenly, from the shadows of the wall of the nearest house, an infected leapt out, but I quickly shot it down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but then I heard a soft sound behind me, and turned to see crowd of infected charging towards us.

I let out a cry of fear as Sally and I shot frantically, killing several, but the rest quickly caught up with us. I grabbed my arm, and opened its mouth to reveal ghastly black rotting teeth. I shot it in the head, sending it reeling to the ground.

Blitz stood protectively in front of me, tearing through any Infected that came at me, and I shot down many more. Suddenly, I heard a scream from beside me, and turned to see that an Infected had clamped his jaw on Sally's arm. i shot it, but it was too late. The infected who had been attacking me swarmed over Sally, biting her too.

I knew that Sally had already been bitten before, and that this would accelerate the process. I also knew that after she was fully infected, they would bite me, and when I fainted, they'd tear me to shreds. However, i still refused to give up on my only friend, firing at the infected until I ran out of bullets.

At that point, an infected bear charged into the clearing and ran towards me. I then finally gave up and ran off, Blitz close by my side.

I ran through the woods until my legs felt weak. Then I knelt on the ground and cried. I cried for my friend, my only human friend in the whole world. And now i was sure that she wouldn't even remember me, being one of the infected.

Blitz nuzzled my side in an attempt to raise my spirits. I stroked his head and stood up shakily, calming myself.

"Well, it looks like its just you and me again, bud." i muttered to him. Suddenly I heard something bounding towards me. I looked up to see an infected Alsatian charging at me, snarling viciously. Blitz leapt at it, but it dodged past him.

I quickly raised my gun and shot at it, but I remembered too late that I was out of bullets. Before i could do anything else, it jumped forward and bit my foot. I let out a cry of pain as Blitz tore through the poor creature, reducing it to a limp corpse.

With a jolt, I realized that i needed to get to a safe place before I became unconscious. I ran haphazardly through the woods, my vision constantly blurring and darkness appearing at the edges of my vision. Soon, I came out in a clearing, and through my blurred vision I saw a girl with a raised bow.

"Don't shoot!" I murmured before I collapsed on the ground and finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

A painful static whine awoke Jeremiah in the early hours, making him jolt and shaking the whole tent and the trees it was tied to. "...repeated message from short wave radio, calling any nearby people. I have received a broadcast from a group of people, round about a couple of dozen of them, trying to head over to England, 'parently it's not infected or... the message was lost in white noise again, and, despite Jeremiah switching through the wavelengths, he couldn't find it again. Still, it had to be close. The signal was weak at best, and his proximity was implied. The real question was if he actually wanted to find them. He had a few people saying they were going to "go to England", but he had mainly just laughed them off. What were they going to do, storm a city, somehow survive, get to a port, and find a boat in good condition after being abandoned for years on end, strong enough to cross the Atlantic, and which hadn't been stolen, somehow have enough fuel and supplies to get across, not to mention sailors... The more he thought about it, the more ludicrous it seemed. Even if they did get there, he couldn't imagine England as anything other than incredibly strictly quarantined, and probably under marshal law. No, he didn't have high hopes.
That said, what's the worst that could happen? Okay, being infected, that's true. But what's the worst that's likely to happen? Meet up with some other people, possibly trade, or something along those lines, and be on his way. He'd learn where he was at least, assuming he could find them.
However, whatever happened, it'd happen tomorrow, in the morning. And so Jeremiah turned over, and went back to sleep.

Matt Walker

I breathe a sigh of relief when the man's hand finally drifts from his belt, and I do the same as he pulls his mask from his face. "My name is Samuel. I have no intention of harming you as long as you make no attempt to harm me." I know that tone. Apathy. You'd better hope that things don't go south, Matt, because this man has nothing to lose. I'm about to open my mouth again when he speaks.

"Let me guess. No matter how many spores you inhale or how many bites or scratches you receive you don't turn into one of them. No real explanation why. It just seems to happen that way. But with each interaction your hair gets whiter and your features get paler. Am I getting pretty close?"

I stare in shock at the man for a moment before forcing my jaw to close again. "How- Do you know of others?" My voice rises in pitch with excitement. "Are there others? That girl wouldn't answer me, but I've never met anyone else like.... this..." I gesture to myself. I laugh suddenly. "I haven't met much of anyone in quite a while actually. You and that girl are the first uninfected I've seen in four years..."

"Last term that I heard was The Immune," Samuel said looking to the bodies on the ground. "Sort of like those that are immune to the rabies virus. There is a small percent of the population that is immune to this mold stuff. But it still seems to effect those immune with those weird features."

Looking in the direction of the girl. "She is probably immune as well. And I didn't see a radio on her. She probably didn't hear the message. We need as many of you immune as we can. To either repopulate the earth with Immunes or create a cure with your genetic code."

Samuel rubbed between his eyes as he sighed. Of course he would be the one that would find two Immunes and hear a message of safety in England. That was just his kind of luck. "The direction that the message told us to head in is filled with the Infected. None of us are going to make it alone."

Matt Walker

"The Immune." I repeat the term Samuel used. It certainly fits... "So no one knows really why? I just.... am? A mutation or something? Huh." I follow his gaze to the dead woman in the yard. It's unfair...

"She ran off before I could really ask anything. I don't suppose you're much of a tracker? Not really my specialty, I'm afraid. You're right though, we need to let her know that there's a safe zone. Even the possibility of a safe zone is..... worth the risk, I think."

Samuel rubbed his eyes and I laughed out loud. "Right? The whole world's gone to shit and now we're the ones who actually hear something that might make things decent again. Quite a day if I've ever had one." My voice was gradually starting to loose its croaking edge, something I was grateful for. "Have you seen others? Besides me and the girl I mean. That group on the radio seems pretty big, and if we're in radio range then it seems like we would have seen them or at least the others that they were talking about..." I stop to think for a moment. You know he's right. We're a long way from any part of England and it'll take more than three people to get there alive, and that's if that girl even wants to come with us...

"Nevermind that for now." I say. "We should find that girl first. I'm sure you noticed she knows how to use that bow, and like you said, there are a lot of infected between us and England. We need her aim."

"No. I'm not a tracker," he said adjusting the pack on his back and pulling up his mask. "But we know which direction she went in." He nodded for Matt to move with him. He didn't want anyone behind him. There were too many scars from being stabbed in the back, both literally and figuratively, for him to make that mistake again.

He didn't move fast. If she was watching them then hurrying would give off the impression that they were chasing her, which is a quick way to getting an arrow through the eye. He rubbed his left shoulder, the constant ache having a sudden spike. It would rain soon. Maybe not tonight. But soon.

The idea of traveling even with one more person was enough to make Samuel fell unnerved. People always managed to get themselves killed around him, and he had seen enough bloodshed to last him two lifetimes. Of all the expressions that he could have, tiredness seemed the most prevalent. Like a man that has soon so much war and death that he can no longer hide the weary face that he would normally keep to himself.