Moonlit Retribution

Chapter One

Personally, I think the thing must be sick or demented, more so than it already would be as an infected. There's no other reason it would be waltzing out in the daylight of its own volition. Those things are extremely sensitive to any form of UV radiation. So sensitive that they can only come out on the new moon, when there's nothing to reflect the sun's deadly light.

One might think that, with their limited window of opportunity to spread their plight, we'd have successfully eradicated the freaks by now. Sadly, that is far from the case. These things are good at hiding, and the only successful hunts we've had were all on new moons. Which are hard to deem as "successful" because twice as many of our people are killed than the infected, simply because there are just so many of them, and we can't fight very well in hazmat garb, leaving our people totally exposed to the virus. I think it's just Andy's method of the complex's population control. With a little over 30 people, resources are extremely limited. I suppose getting rid of some is necessary, if cruel. Kinda makes me wonder why I'm still around.

With a more purposeful stride, I head down to the holding cells on the bottom level. What we at the complex jokingly refer to as Hell. Or maybe it's just me. It's always so hot down there because of the boiler room that I can only ever manage a five minute stay, maximum.

The instant I step foot on the wide threshold, a strong gust of hot, arid air blasts into me, stinging my eyes and drying my skin. I suppose I might have sweat, but the air is so dry that I fear it's turning my skin to parchment, sucking it dry. And it smells like rats. Dead rats. I make a mental note to tell Mella to set some traps.

Yes, of all the animals that have perished during this epidemic, rats have not been among them. Nor have cockroaches, spiders, and all other forms of creepy crawlies that live to make me miserable. Of course. Why would any useful creature survive?

Abruptly, a derisive snort escapes me. So this is how the people here think of me! I've never had an accurate comparison before...

My anticipation suddenly dries up as I wander downstairs. It's hard for me to feel pumped for a sorta-kinda interrogation when I'm uncomfortable. Andy tells me that I'll have to get over it if I want to be of any use to the group, but it's hard to break away from my comfort zone, even in today's horrid conditions. He actually has the audacity to tell me that this is because I haven't suffered enough. I beg to differ.

The rickety stairs groan beneath my weight. I feel like telling them to shut up, since I've lost a good deal of weight because of this whole ordeal. But, since I've already had a word or two with the old slabs of wood and they haven't stopped complaining yet, I give up and continue my descent without a word.

The basement is dark, hot, and boring as can be: cement walls and floor, thick, wooden support beams that are in serious need of sanding-down, and the various metal tubes and vents used for heating and cooling the old building. Seriously, the only form of decoration we have down here is spider webs, and from the numerous bites I get on a nightly basis, I can tell you with complete confidence that they are not there for show.

Damn it, when did my thought process become so scattered?

Shaking myself, I walk down the long hall, wishing I had had the sense to bring a flashlight or candle or something because my night vision is nil and I keep crashing into the walls. One would think that after all the time I have spent hunting down and tracking undead beings I would be able to walk in a straight line and at least avoid a damn wall. Sadly, my orientation, or lack of, has been terrible since I lost my glasses in our last encounter with said undead beings. Andy has shown little sympathy, but sooner or later he's going to realize that I'm as useless as a rubber chicken without them. Of course, I wasn't much use with them, but I digress.