I stood up all night and and pumped this baby out in about 6 hours. It's unedited, but by no means rough. Wordcount is 3329, but before you disqualify me for being over the limit, read the story. This is a short story contest, not a heavily graded college essay. If you think it sucks, then disqualify me for being over the limit. Just be glad I didn't write a novel.

Infected
By Richard Barcelo

I liked some of the blood of my hand... How the Hell could I have been bitten? I holstered my still smoking 357 and pulled back my left sleeve to get a better look at the wound. My left hand stung, but the pain was nothing compared to the shock of disbeleif than ran down my spine and twisted into my stomach. The deep gash and teeth marks beneath my thumb throbbed as it oozed more and more blood. It didn't look too bad. I can't imagine seeing this as more than a minor wound... But I've seen others turn from less. Barry cut his ankle jumping over a fence then got infected blood in by it kicking over a dead infected's sitting corpse.

I wrapped up my left hand as best I could. Luckily, he didn't get my good hand. I looked at the poor bastard laying slumped against the wall, with chunks of his brain matter settling into the already stained carpet. I still don't know how this happened. I've fought my way out of hundreds of situations, the luckiest of which consisted of me pushing my way through a hallway full of infected without so much as a scratch. We lost Marry and Joel that day...

"Ron!" a feminine voice called from outside. "Was that a gunshot? Are you okay?" I was pulled back to my senses standing over a dead zombie in the bedroom of some stranger's house.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I yelled back. "Found the owners of the place. Looks like a suicide pact gone bad in here" Judging this from the dead broad in the bed, and the familiar packs of government issued cyanide pills on either night stand. The vacant right side of the bed, and the capsule next to the open package lead me to beleive that I had been killed by a coward.

I wrapped my hand up as best as I could to try to conceal the wound, then attempted to continue my search of whatever I could find. I stumbled around distracted and unfocused. My chest was heavy. I felt as if I needed to greive for my soon-to-be-taken life. I fought back my tears then suddenly sobered up.

There's no way I could be infected. Barry was sick almost imediately after he made contact. Besides my hand, which had now dulled to a simering sting, I feel fine. I pulled my jacket sleeve over my hand, then proceeded out of the mostly unsearcged house, into the day light.

Katie was waiting for me out on the sidewalk, with the wind blowing her brown hair across her face. I aproached her then she swung her arms around my neck and kissed me.

"You had me worried there for a sec. Did you find anything interesting?"

"You know, it was awefully depressing in there. O'l hubby didn't hold up his end of the bargain and was left to feed on his woman for the rest of eternity- Or at least until I walked in there and popped his head like a cherry." If we hadn't all learned to be morbid, we would have all gone insane weeks ago. "Where's Lance and Babe?"

"They're in the two-story across the couldesack." She pointed at the ONLY two-story on the street.

"Which one is it? I'm still not sure." I said sarcastically.

"Come on you doof." I winced as she took my hand. She didn't notice.

A tall, masculine black man with a shouldered twelve guage, and a short beaming hispanic male emerged laughing from the front door, betweem the carrying a large blue ice chest.

"Alright. what have you guys found this time?"

"let's show'em, Babie!" The latino smirked, setting down his end of the load. Babe followed.

"I hear ya'." said the 6'6" black man in a pitch which was just sharp of the brown note.

They opened the chest. It was chaulk full of full unopened bottles of "Bourbon, Whiskey, Gin, Some other stuff, and," Lance picked up a bottle of %100 agave "tequila!"

"You are such a stereotype, Lance." Katie remarked noticably unamused.

"Awe, but we gonna have a party tonight, bruthas! Whoop!" Babe said. They closed the cooler victoriously and continued proceeding towards the truck.

"How many houses we got left on this street?" I asked getting back to business.

"Just the two at the end of the street." Katie replied. Her job on these raids is to stand in the street and keep look-out while people like me Babe and Lance searched the houses. We don't worry about it too much anymore, but we used to sometimes get pinned in houses by packs of wandering infected. Most of the infected that are left are trapped inside the houses now and even then they are few in between. We still have the threat of bandits who occaisonally like drive by and jack our loot.

The last two houses came and went, uneventfully. We didn't find anything too exciting. Lance found some clean underwear, good for him.

The sky was bright orange by the time we started heading back to base. Katie was driving, I rode shotgun, while Babe and Lance rode in the bed, guarding their precious booty.

It was beautiful. The sunset. Heading west, it was all I could see except the silhouettes of abandoned cars and the Phoenix skyline in the distance. It, for a moment, took my mind off of me hand. I felt the greif coming back and began to wonder if this were the last sunset I would ever see. I could feel the tears coming and the emotion built up in my chest... ...but then I realised-

"Katie, pull over now."

"What's the matter?" She asked- I vomited. All over the dashboard and the floor between my legs.

Katie swerved, and almost completely lost control before she stopped the truck.

"Holy shit, man!?" Screamed Lance from the back of the truck as I opened the door and fell out onto the still VERY hot asphault. I raised myself to my hands and knees and began to vomit some more.

"Oh my God, Ron, are you okay?" Asked Katie from the driver's seat almost in a panick, clearly shocked.

"Nobody ever listens to me!" Exclaimed Lance. "My Nana always told me to never eat food out of a deformed can. It means it's bad, but they still serve it up for us anyway!"

"You gotta let it all out, brutha," came the low, soothing voice of Babe, "If ya' got food poisoning, it's best to let it all out."

By this time I was dry heaving. three heaves in a row, nothing came up. On the fourth heave, I got a mouth full. I spat it out. It was blood.

I picked myself up and carried myself back to my seat. I was already covered in it, so I didn't worry about sitting in a seat stained with my own fresh puke. After reasuring everybody that I was fine, we set off again for the camp.

I remembered that son-of-a-bitch back in that bedroom. What a low-life peice of scum. He had his wife kill herself and just sat therelike a coward and let the airborn infection get him? That fucking peice of shit! Because of his sorry little bitch ass, to cowardly to kill himself, leaves his wife to die alone and subsequently dooms, of all the people left, me, along with him, and his god-damned peice of shit virus... I wish I could have been there to kill him myself.

The light was nearly gone; only a sliver of daylight remained. We pulled into what used to be the parking lot of a supermarket. Now it was a fortified outpost in hell. Chain-link, razorwire, watch towers, and spotlights, all lined the parimeter of the complex. inside, are tents and makeshift buildings which people reside in and try to run as close to normal lives they can.

There are a few hundred of us. Three or four hundred something is what I think I heard last count... Some people come and go in small groups. Some come permanantly and some go with hopes of finding something better. Some of those return, and some don't. Whether they perished or actually did find something better, it doesn't matter to us, because for us, this is as good as it's gonna get.

We get running water from pumps that pump water out of a nearby cannal. Taking no chances, we filter all of the water we use. The electricity works from a combination of wind, solar, and gasoline powered genorators. I used to think gas would be in short supply, but the gas siphoners always come back with tank loads every week or so they go out.

As far as living goes, most people have to chip in. The most common jobs don't require leaving the camp and maintain it from the inside. A large portion of us, including myself, systematically raid the surrounding neighborhoods looking for medical supplies, unspoiled food, guns and ammo- whatever we can use. An optimistic group of people have recently began trying to raise a farm in a field just a few miles from the camp. Honestly, I don't think they're going to come up with much, but since they're not hurting anybody and we can support them, they're ok by my book. And of it works out for them, then hell, it'll make all of our lives easier.

As far as the smallest number of us go, they just wander around aimlessly, just like some of infected out there, alive, but somehow dead inside. They just live enough to be alive, but sometimes they manage to find ways to kill themselves. It's not unusual to find one of these lot dead with shards of glass shoved into their wrist, or on the sidewalk after plummeting off a building. Most don't blame them for anything. I wouldn't want to live through what these people have lived through either...

It was dinner time. We talked with the other raiding parties about what loot was recovered from where and whether or not they killed any infected. Some stories were obvioulsy exagerated, as one of the men bragged, "This one came out of the closet at me! No joke, she must have weighed three hundred pounds! It knocked my gun out of my hand, and I was lucky I grabbed my knife, because this fat bitch had me on the ground biting for my neck! So what do I do? I stick that pig in the side of the head!"

There was a day where events like that were an everyday thing for me. That was when it was just me Barry, Marry, and Joel. Then we found Pete and Katie. Then we ran into Babe, Glenn, and Lance, who, in turn lead us to this encampment.

I began to feel sick. Barry, Glenn, Pete, they all became infected for some retarded reason or another. But how could I? Aren't I different some how? There is no way I can become infected. I am me! I have a history! I love Katelyn Morris... My name is Ronald Everwood... I survived this long to go out like this!?

"Hey, Ron!" a voice from down the table came, "You've hardly touched your canned veggies!"

"If you'd have seen him on the ride back today," interrupted Lance, "You wouldn't blame him!"

"Excuse me..." I said, leaving the table, heading towards the restroom.

"That's it! I ain't eating anymore of this shit!" I heard Lance yelling as I left the tent. I entered the supermarket heading towards the restrooms. It was vacant in here, because the indoors were used mostly for storage of perishable items, not to mention the place was usually kept dark, and these days, you learn to avoid dark indoor places.

I found the restrooms and began to open the men's room door when I heard someone throwing up in the ladie's room behind me. My heart sank. It couldn't be her. the odds are way to low. I stepped inside the mens room, and just before the door closed, I saw her flowing brown hair whisk through my crack of vision. I sank to the white tile floor. There has to be an explanation. We both ate the same food, maybe we've got the same sick! Maybe I am immune. In the beggining, they said everybody would get infected with the airborn strain, and a good number of us survived. Now they say nobody is immune to the direct contact strain, and I am the first to confirm they are wrong! Even if I did get infected, there is no way it could spread from my blood to my saliva that quick!

I doubled over and threw up. I don't want to imagine Katie going through this.

This is all my fault. I was not cautious enough when I entered that house. I knew I was bitten, but I didn't tell anybody. I carelessly let her kiss me when I left the house. And now, I have compromised the security of the camp and put everybody at risk and doomed the person I love most. I don't want to imagine Katie going through this. This must be what hell is like...

I must tell somebody-

As I tried to get up, every gut in my body turned inside out. The pain was excrutiating beyond what any words can explain. I reached for my gun, but it wasn't there. in desparation I plowed my head into the walls and floor praying to strike a mortal blow before it was too late. I screamed in agony as I began to vomit blood into my hands. I rubbed my bile soaked hands into my eyes to block out the light, the fucking light! The stinging pain lessened the agony. As I regained my vision, I was looking at my hands. My horrible, horrible hands, they just irritate so fucking much! I begin to knaw on them, chewing through the bandage on my left hand, and removing the pinky on my right.

My teeth! They began to... I don't want to say hurt, because they didn't... They felt irritated, in such a way that the only way to sooth them was to bite. I bit as hard as I could; my teeth began to crack under tho pressure of my jaw, but I need more! I bit off my tongue and began to chew on it. The pain didn't bother me as much as the pain in my teeth didn't go away. I tried to swallow it, but I choked and coughed it out onto the floor. Is I began to tear the flesh off the back of my arm, I heard the water in the sink running. That little fucking hissing sound... insceasent... irritating.

I smacked my bloody fists against the faucet to make it shut up, but all it did was get louder! I saw my face in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and blood oozed from my mouth. I hated it. I ran my head into the reflection and the glass of the mirror fell to the counter. As the last shard pinged into the sink, I heard the door open, I shot my eyes over to the source to see Lance standing there with a bottle of his tequila in his hand. We made eye contact and both of us were frozen.

It was completely silent. I couldn't hear the sink. Another insceasent noise began to overtake it. The sound of him breathing... His heartbeat... I cound't take much more! If he couldn't stop pissing me off, I knew I had to silence him myself! Then I heard the son of a bitch blink. That was it.

I sprung at him. He dropped his bottle and turned screaming to the door, but just as he grabbed the handle, I took him down by his legs and brought him to the floor. I climbed on top of him holding him stomach down to the floor. I beat his back with my fists, and as he screamed I bit his neck. The feeling of tearing his flesh away momentarily quelled my irritated teeth.

I heard his pulse changed and his breathing stopped momentarily. It didn't annoy me as much so I got up off him and left looking for another way to please my teeth. I found my way outside through the back of the store. There I helped myself to a couple of the drifters. The first one saw what I was, but I took her down before she could scream. The second stumbled upon me and the first, but he kneeled and begun to sob loudly and didn't resist as I kicked him onto his back and tore out his throat.

I can't say how many I went through, but none of them helped my teeth. There was one person however, who saw me and right away, she begun to scream and run. I chased her down and put a stop to her fairly quickly. By this time, some of the loners I had infected were up and searching for remedies of their own hells.

We began to make our way tent by tent, infecting sleeping man woman and child alike. Up until then, it has been rather quiet. Then the alarms started blaring, followed shortly by gunshots.

Following the sounds of the screams, we made our way to the meal tent, where Lance had been busy attempting to satisfy the hunger in his teeth. Judging by the screams and gunshots outside, there were quite a few infected around here.

A few men ran into the tent and aimed their guns at us. I, filled with fear, ran out the opposite entrance, as they opened fire. The spotlights were all truned into the encampment now. Running from shadow to shadow, I made my way back into the supermarket to escape the lights. Once inside, I heard a familiar woman's scream. It was Katie; and she wasn't infected.

How could that bitch do this to me? I'm in hell and she's over there trying to avoid us? I'll fucking infect her myself!

Aching with rage, I made my way through the nearly pitch black store following the sounds of her screams and the pattering feet and growls of persuing infected.

I heard three gunshots, then silence. If one of those other infected has gotten her...

I aproached a lit doorway. in the light of the door lay three dead infected. In the doorway itself stood a security guard.

"I think I got them all," he said with his back to me as I aproached, "You're safe now." He turned just in time for me to wrap my left hand around his neck and I grabbed his bottem jaw with my right hand.

He tried to scream as he dropped his gun to try to pry my fingers from his neck. I let go with my left hand, then grabbed his upper jaw. It took all of my strength to pry his jawbone down, tearing it from it's socket, the slamming his skull, crushing it into the wall.

I then turned my attention to the sobbing woman in the corner. Her breath, heartbeat and wimpering had to stop. Then she said, "No, Ron, Not you too!" I slowly aproached her, biding my time, trying to calculate how sweet tearing her flesh from her bones would be. Then she said, "How could you, Ron? I love you!" I stood over her, saliva and blood dripped from my mouth. I began to reach for her, then she said, "Ron, I'm pregnant."

For one glorious moment, I became human again. I could remember how wonderful life was before the outbreak. I rememebered the day we first met, and how we used to laugh and try to enjoy ourselves on our day off. I remembered comforting her as she cried the day Barry killed Pete after he became infected. Even now, as I am about to kill her, she still loves me and is even going to bare my child...

I tried to say her name... "Haaaayeeee..." but I had no tongue...

"I'm sorry to do this to ya, brutha..." came a low, soothing voice from behind, and that was the last thing I ever heard.

Hey, welcome to the forums. I really enjoyed that. It was good to see your theory behind what drives the infected. Good job.

__________________

Wow, I missed this one yesterday.

That's brilliant! Its the second good infected point of view I've seen come in from this contest. I love it


Oh, and don't worry about the word count; the 'limits' are a guideline so we don't get 100 word stories or 100,000 word stories.

__________________

Veiled Duality

Nice story, really gives you the feel of being a infected.
Defo one of my favourite stories so far.