Silver Tigrean
deadly
"The people that live in this world,
they ain't people anymore."
I can remember the day we decided to stop living....it was the same day that we realized we were merely surviving in a world gone to shit. In the old world, you didn't have to hide at night for fear that they would see you, rip you to shreads. You didnt have to fight other living people for a chance at a meal, and see the look on their face when they were defeated. We used to be the hunters...now we are the hunted.
This was survival. My name is Val and i am a survivor. For now.
The people that live in this world, they aint people anymore. His words echoed in my mind, my brain still trying to comprehend how all this had happened. Those that knew the truth died out long ago, all traces of hope being buried with them. How many days, months, years had it been? The calendar I once owned was out of time and I hadn't seen a working clock since it all started. No time to think, theyll be coming soon. One thing that had always kept me ahead of the game was my sense of smell. It was better than the average persons, and you could always smell them before you could see them. There was no other scent like it; a mixture of putrid decay, bile and coagulated blood. It was enough to churn anyone's stomach. Finding a gas mask had literally been a life saver. Not only does it protect me from getting infected, but it once served as a sort of face-guard, preventing the tainted meat from getting into my mouth.
All it takes is one little drop of their blood, one tiny scratch, one little nibble...and you become sick; so sick, the fever hits you within the hour. The hallucinations become so vivid you start believing what you are seeing. You vomit up blood, so thick and black it feels like syrup and tastes like death. Your eyes change color, a mixture of sad gray and sickly yellow. If you are lucky, your body fights off the infection, and in a few days time you have never felt better; your senses are heightened, your stamina and strength become incredible, and your appetite more fierce. But if you are unlucky, you become one of them You slowly start to die as your body succumbs to the sickness; hours, sometimes days pass before your body finally gives in. The person you once were is gone and a monster is born in your place. This monster doesn't recognize anyone. It has no memory of anything, its only drive in life now being to tear you apart. You will destroy anything and anyone you once loved. You will not be stopped until your brain is destroyed. How do i happen to know all this? I was once infected and luckily i survived. Others I have been with, have not been so lucky. I have seen families literally torn apart and other unimaginable things I would rather just forget...
You cant ever stay in one place too long, unless you have a hefty line of defense surrounding you. Hoards of them can emerge from anywhere, seemingly out of the blue. They follow sight, smell and sound. Some have no intelligence; the need to feed drives them towards the next victim. Others seem to have developed a minimal thought process; hiding in the shadows, waiting until a survivor passes, before lashing out with snapping jaws. The the older and more rotten the body is, the more developed the thought process becomes. I could of sworn (or maybe it was the whiskey playing tricks on me) I watched a small group play stupid, carefully dodging passing bullets (shot by unskilled survivors) before picking up speed and sinking rotten jaws into their throats. I have lost count of how many others I have seen die. You kinda just stop caring after the first couple dozen.
Traveling alone is easier, safer. Others slow you down and cloud your judgement, especially if you become emotionally attached. I promised myself I would never watch someone I love die again. It takes a heavy toll on the heart...always wondering if you could have done more to save them...blaming yourself for all of it. Then you spend endless nights drinking a fine stash of whiskey (that you totally didnt steal from someones camp) and asking yourself why you deserve to live, until one day you wake up and realize that while you were passed out, you acquired a nice gash on your thigh because you slept in an infected puddle of blood, on the side of your holster that carries your very sharp knife (what was the point of even wearing this mask anyway?). After you (for some unknown reason) manage to survive the fever, cravings for flesh, and mass amounts of throwing up blood, (and lets not forget self-loathing) you wake up feeling reborn. Like you have a purpose. My purpose is to live life as it is now, using my keen new senses to hunt out infected and rid the world of their plague. Maybe by killing a couple hundred, I saved someones from being ripped apart.
Surviving in todays world is not as easy as it might seem. Sure, you dont have to pay bills or go work at your shitty job. Instead, you get to try and not get yourself killed; scavenge for food and water that hasnt been infected by blood or succumbed to decay (you do not want to find out what rotten canned tuna tastes like), find a safe spot to camp for the night (preferably on second story if you can since the infected cant climb), dont get attached to anyone (but i really miss cuddling and what not) and most importantly, know how to fight, because it will save your life when you cant physically run anymore. With all the time in the world, teaching yourself survival skills is a matter of life or death (but it also helps if you happen to find a martial arts how-to book and a survival guide). If you managed to survive being infected, your appetite becomes more fierce than the average starving survivor (heightened senses can be super fun). Slicing and dicing through infected (while gnawing on some wild berries) can be fun, in a morbid sort of way. In a world gone to shit, why not try and make the best of it?
You make the best of what life gives you. The only real game anyone can play these days is the game of Survival.
"got bit
fever hit
world gone to shit
you might as well quit."
(or you can learn to survive)
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Story (c) ME
Quotes (c) Daryl Dixon
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