Footprints in the Blood

TWO

DAY 11

I've been excited about college since I was in eighth grade.

I fancied myself an investigative journalist, flying across the world, getting the truth from those unlikely sources, hiding in the trenches or climbing up trees. I never expected that instead of getting a bachelors, I'll be getting my killing zombies degree.

I never thought the world would end while I was at college.

Matt dumps the bag with the head in the huge metallic dumpster, before making his way back to where I'm crouching against the building. The shock is wearing off now, and I can feel my body starting to shake as the truth of what I've done seeps over my skin. I will never be able to get the image of Molly's eyes going dead out of my head. The life leaving her body at my hand is going to hunt me till I'm dead and gone. Or infected. Once I'm infected, I won't care about anything.

"Are you ready?" Matt whispers, crouching down beside me. I glance over at him, taking in his dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. His are full of concern as he studies me and I push my lips in half a smile, hoping to reassure myself as much as him.

"Yes, let's do this."

He doesn't hesitate to second guess me, but reaches for the knife on his belt and springs to his feet. We knew going to the cafeteria would be risky, but we needed to see if we could find some kind of food. We've been living off vending machine leftovers for days now and the supply is running out.

When the campus went on lockdown eleven days ago we all just expected a routine procedure. The government brought in vans with vaccination, we were all going to get the shot, and life would get back to normal. Only it didn't.

Instead of making it better, the flu shots set the virus on fire. It only took the first few of the infected, before the whole campus was engulfed in the flame of hungry zombies. The rest didn't even need the shot, as one bite from an infected set the brewing microbes inside the blood free. That's the only thing the virus wants. To spread itself among every living thing, making it crazy from the inside out.

Nothing has prepared us for this. The TV shows that used to be so exciting now just seem like a curse. Watching the people survive one way or another gave us hope that we could handle this. But we didn't. We killed the brain and the virus lived. We thought they would be slow and escapable, they're not. It's why so many of us died in those first few days. Until we started thinking for ourselves and finding ways to stop the infected.

Matt and I stay near the shadows as we make our way closer and closer to the courtyard we have to cross to get back to the dorm. Never in a million years did I think I would be here with him like this. We only just met when the infection broke out and he seemed like that unattainable upperclassmen, way out of my league. He's gorgeous in that boy next door kind of a way with a smile that sneaks up on you because it's so rare and blinding when it comes. It's even more rare now.

"Matt, wait," I grab his arm, pulling him to a stop against the building. He turns to look at me, a question in his eyes, but I'm not paying any attention to him. My mind is on our surroundings and the danger I know is brewing on the other side of this wall.

"There's at least seven of them," I whisper, leaning in as close as I can get to his ear and barely moving my lips. Too much noise and they'll come, so we have to be as careful as possible. A part of me thinks they can smell the uninfected blood that runs through the veins of the survivors, because lately, they always seem to be there, waiting.

Matt inclines his head ever so slightly, message received. I see the frustration written all over his features, because he knows the only way for us to get to our safe haven is to go through them. They've barricaded every other way. He pulls me a tad closer, before whispering the next question into my ear.

"Are you sure?"

I lean back, staring into his dark eyes and nod my head. He shuts his eyes in frustration, his hand griping the knife tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

There's one thing that the virus hasn't counted on and that's me. I have a superpower. I know there are seven of them because I can feel the virus in every single person, and the distinction between each.

I can feel the infected, just as they can smell the uninfected.

But the real kicker is that they can't smell me.