Revenant

Settled (1.1)

"The virus' origins are not yet known. Doctors believe that it is spread through blood, saliva, as well as other bodily fluids. Observation suggests that it may be passed on via airborne pathogen. Although further studies are necessary, confirmed symptoms include extreme drop in blood pressure and heart rate, fever, loss of color in skin, delirium, confusion, aggressive and abnormal behavior."

They called it a flu-like virus, but they knew it was far worse than that.

The lady on the news reported that six people had traveled to India, and fell ill on their return. It was something the doctors had never seen before, so they were in quarantine. When they advised anyone who may have been near the six affected to go straight to the hospital, I knew something was up.

And now here I am, on the run from the product of that so called flu. It has been three months since this all began. The hospital, and police of Halifax, Nova Scotia tried to contain the outbreak. They almost did, too, and then two nurses got bit by the fuckers. Proper protocol for such events in a hospital never involves immediate amputation. They have to clean the wound and work from there. Idiots. So, that is what really started this.

Do you know what rotting human flesh smells like? No? Good. Pray you never do. It is foul. Unpleasant. Disgusting. Gut-wrenching. I hate it. But, c'est la vie, right?

"Willow," someone from our group whispered through the wooden wall of this old barn. "Biters. Get out here and help us."

I got up, walking casually to the barn door, which was open just far enough to squeeze through. "Can't a girl get some fucking rest?" I picked up my .22 automatic and prepared to fire. Before anybody else had a chance, I shot four of the seven grotesque creatures, the bullets piercing their heads. I never miss a shot. "Why did you guys even need me? You could have handled them."

The guy who disturbed my quiet time, looked at me. "You are just a better shot than most of us. we never wanted to risk it."

"What about me?" At that point, the door I had slipped through swung open with great force. Johnathan Hawthorne. The most arrogant dickhead we picked up so far. He pisses me off so much! "Gray is a little kid. How could she possibly be a better shot than me?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" It took everything I had not to scream. We did not need to catch the attention of more of the damn Biters. "How old do you think I am?"

He stood, looming over me. His eyes lingered on mine, as I stared him down. "I don't know, fifteen?"

I let out a snort. "Bah! I am twenty-three."

That crooked grin which I love to hate appeared on his smug face. "Still does not make you a better shot than me, kid." He turned around and lazily strode away from me, toward the decomposing bales of hay he uses as a bed.

I followed right behind him, and kicked one of the bales. My temper always rises with this jackass. "Oh, so the fact that my father taught me to shoot when I was eight, and I have been hunting since I was nine has nothing to do with it, right?"

He slid his hat down to cover his face, but not before he let me see the look of amusement on his face. He said nothing.

"Would you guys keep it down. There are more Biters coming this way, thanks to you two."

I did not bother paying attention to who said that. Instead, I reacted to the unpleasant sounds of the undead coming our way. "Guess I will take it out on them, instead..." I mumbled, reaching for my hunting knife.

There were only two of the things. One of which, a female, looked fresh. Most of its face was chewed off before it turned. Blood dripped down its neck, and chunks of skin dangled loosely from its jaw. She was a quick kill. in one swift motion, my knife pierced her eye socket, jamming into her brain.

Before I could react, the second biter was on me. I swear nobody did anything to try and help as I tried to wrestle away from the walking, rotting monster. Then a shotgun fired, so close in range, that the booming noise vibrated through my body, and nearly deafened me. Blood covered my face, arms and upper torso. Grabbing the bandana from my back pocket, I wiped my face, and looked to see who shot the thing.

Johnathan stood four feet away, lowering his .12 gauge. "You are welcome, kid." He offered me a rag to wipe myself off better, but I just shoved his hand away with force.

"You could have killed me." I was so furious with him that I nearly sounded calm for a moment, but I was not. "You nearly fucking killed me."

He stared blankly into my angry eyes. "I am sorry I saved you from the biter. Maybe next time I will let it eat you." He turned back around and quickly made his way back into the barn.

I bit my tongue not to scream at him again. Looking around, I noticed all twelve of the other survivors in our group staring straight at me. "What? What the fuck do you guys want? Yeah, I am angry. I could have handled myself, and he knows it. He just had to show off and kill it first."