( help)

Him/the infection

          I saw him yesterday standing under a tree. The sun peeking through the leaves, creating what looked like polkadots covering him from head to toe . He was taller than me by about 7 inches, his dirty blond hair come down to his neck and framed his face perfectly. His eyes reminded me of the sky on a cloudy day but the type of cloudy where the whole sky becomes a mysterious dark grey/blue.
RED! The first thing I noticed , his bright red beanie. His  "MCR" hoodie was the second , he was your classic band boy. Rocking the merch and  the name brand "vans".
There was a siren and then ......black. That was when the city went insane .
When I woke he was the first thing I saw . I was drowning in his eyes when he offered his hand and asked if I was alright. I stumbled on my words , the touch of his hand was so warm . It felt like home , like a hot chocolate on a cold morning .
"I-I'm fine"  I told him as he helped me off the lush green grass. "What happened? " I asked
"I'm not sure but it looked like some guy tackled you and your bleeding pretty bad "
My adrenaline must of kicked in because I didn't even realize the thick crimson liquid dripping down my arm onto the fresh glimmering  snow.
I felt a sense of panic and fear overcome my body and my chest quickly constricted making even the most minuscule amount of oxygen almost impossible to obtain. He saw this and touched my shoulder "do you need to sit down ? You look pretty shook "
I nodded as slowly I felt the warmth radiating from the palm of his hand ,through my skin and into my core . Again the same familiar feeling of home is sensed in my heart. It feels like hours when it was really seconds when he removed his hand from my cold porcelain skin. Quickly I was back to the reality of the situation , I had been tackled and am now losing blood every second i spend in my mind. He helped me get my maroon winter coat off in hope to find the wound that is creating the painting on the snow in that bright primary color . Then we saw it ....... a deep gash in my arm ..... almost resembling an animal bite .i rolled up my sleeve hoping to see the hole in my bicep better . Let me tell you , it couldnt help see anything . I was basically just added brush strokes to the white canvas of the ground.
He then asked if he could help me ... I shyly nodded and as soon as I did he began to rip the bottom of his shirt . Pulling it into a long strip and creating a tourniquet and wrapped it around my arm tightening it just enough to make the bleeding slow and then using more of his shirt as a rag cleaning up the area .
I could see it clearly now . Talking up about 4 inches of my arm was a inch deep hole that I didn't wanna believe was a bite mark from the guy that should of been a quarterback.I stood up after he dressed my wounds and started to assess my situation . The number my blood did on the white snow was the first thing I saw , then the evergreen tree in the park near my house . Almost everyone was gone , running away back to their houses or cars trying to get away from this as fast as they could , but what was this ?they where in an extreme panic , only then did the ear deafening sounds of the sirens start to make sense . We where under attack .... but by what ? Mr. Shoulda woulda coulda quarter back ? Why? Why did he tackle me ? Why did I get ( what I can only assume was ) bitten ? And what does that mean for me ?