Killian knit his brows together, his eyes locked on the target in front of him. He was knelt down beside a clump of bramble bushes, just on the edges of a clearing in a shallow patch of woods. He could see the flash of a white tail in the underbrush, bobbing along. Long ears swiveled back and forth as the rabbit munched on the dew-laden grass beneath it. Killian's eyes narrowed, his heart slamming against his rib cage. Tension coiled around his muscles, and the tingling of excitement itched along his fingertips. The thrill of the hunt was something he hadn't felt in a very long time. Holding his crossbow tight, he silently pulled one of the arrows from the quiver and loaded it into the track, straining from the resistance of the string. With a finger on the trigger, he aimed for the rabbit's eye.
The sudden snap of a twig made the rabbit's ears perk up. Without another moment to spare, the brown animal shot out of the bushes and began to dart through the woods. Killian let out a frustrated huff and swung his crossbow onto his back, where it nestled comfortably between his shoulder blades. Taking a hunting knife from his belt, the young man raced after it as quickly as he could. Hunger rumbled in his empty stomach, his vision focusing on the hind legs of his prey. His strides were long, his arms pumping at his sides as he gripped the knife even tighter in his hand. Tripping over a fallen log, Killian quickly scrambled to his feet. With the rabbit darting out of sight, he followed after the deep paw prints quickly and carefully. Bursting out of the woods and spotting the rabbit bounding across some train tracks, Killian chased after it. The gravel beneath his feet made things a bit more difficult, but he was determined. Just as he managed to get over them, the rabbit scrambled beneath a chain link fence on the other side and ran off. Not giving up so easily, Killian sprinted over and jumped, latching onto the fence and dragging his way up. As he came up over the top, a tearing pain ripped through the length of his forearm. Killian clenched his teeth and landed on the other side, gripping onto his arm hard.
Dark, scarlet drops tapped at the pavement beneath him, gathering in a small puddle as he stood there. Killian silently cursed the rabbit; that had been the only meal he'd seen in a day and a half. It could possible be the only meal he'd see for a longer time yet. Not to mention, his tunnel-vision had cost him an injury. Arguably an open wound was much worse than an empty stomach. You could fill an empty stomach, but even if you had the supplies to heal an open wound the blood-scent would linger and bring some of the undead after you. At first Killian hadn't thought it was possible for the creatures to pick up scent or any kind of surrounding sound. But he had been gravely mistaken, and almost lost his life over it a few weeks into this whole disaster.
Gazing around his surroundings, Killian was definitely wary. Any of those diseased things could be hiding around the corner. Biters are what he called them. Their insatiable appetite for human flesh didn't ever seemed to be quenched. Killian had even seen them feeding on the corpses of animals, but he hadn't ever seen an animal come back from the dead to feast on others. He'd long ago come to the conclusion that this—whatever it was—was only affecting humans.
Killian's hand clenched even tighter around his knife as he heard a low growl from the shadows of a nearby building. It seemed like he had found himself on the outskirts of the city he'd grown up in. There was nothing here but bad memories, and memories made even worse when the undead had taken over the city. All he remembered were the military vehicles arriving, and the echoes of rapid gunshots. The screams of people being torn apart, gore riddling the streets and people panicking. It'd been absolute chaos, and he'd never been more terrified in his life. Killian had been scared of these things at first. But not now. Now, they only filled him with anger and resentment. They'd taken everything away from everybody.
The growl grew into a collective range of gurgling snarls. Out of the shadows of the building in front of him—an abandoned warehouse by the looks of things—he heard a quiet shuffling. Three biters made their way out into the open. One was dragging itself along the ground by its two hands. They were all dressed in workers uniform, with their clothes embedded into the rotting flesh. Unfortunately, Killian had gotten used to the scent of dead bodies by now. Many people already had, he assumed. One of biters seemed to move faster than the other two, coming at him swiftly. It wasn't as rotted as the others. It must have only died recently. With a sickening, gurgling snarl it lunged towards him.
Killian immediately jumped out of the way as the biter snapped its jaws at him. It's dusty, decaying teeth made sharp clicks as they gnashed desperately, trying to get a hold of any flesh it could rip at. Killian just barely got out of the way, his gaze darting quickly back at the other two coming closer. The biter that was dragging itself in an army-crawl hadn't gotten too far, but the shuffling one was getting closer by the second. He had to be quick. Thinking fast, Killian maneuvered behind the slower biter and stabbed his knife through the back of its skull, letting it drop to the ground. In his encounters, he'd learned to go for the head. Why, he didn't know. But that seemed to be the only thing that stopped them.
The fast biter grabbed onto his arm with its hands, gripping tight and snapping its teeth rapidly forwards to take a bite. Killian kicked it hard in the knee, but that didn't stop it. With his heart slamming against his rib cage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, Killian swung his upper body in a wide arc and flung it towards the ground. The momentum sent him stumbling. His head became dizzy, the gash in his arm was still bleeding. Falling to the ground, he landed right in front of the dragging biter. Immediately kicking it in the face, he stabbed his knife through it's skull. As he pulled back to take his knife again, it stuck. Killian struggled with it, but the fast biter was now scrambling towards him on all fours. Backed up against the wall and with no time to get up, he slammed his foot hard into its face over and over again to keep it back.
Reaching behind him, Killian aimed his crossbow. With it already loaded, he moved his foot out of the way and pulled the trigger. Right before the biter could take a bite, the arrow pierced through its skull and it dropped dead. Breathing hard, Killian could hear nothing but his own rapid heartbeat. With the blood from his arm still dripping, he quickly scrambled to his feet. Slinging his crossbow onto his back again, Killian put his foot down on the crawling biter's skull. With a massive heave, the knife came loose. Killian stumbled back, but felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he'd retrieved it. He had one other knife. Losing either of them would put him at a massive disadvantage. One was for killing biters and the other was for skinning prey. He refused to contaminate whatever food he caught by using the same knife.
Once he'd caught his breath, Killian could feel exhaustion weighing at his bones. His eyes trailed towards the sky, and he could see the sun beginning to lower. He had to find shelter, and fast. Being out in the dark with these things roaming around was a death sentence. Moving away from the shadow of the building, Killian could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The wound in his arm was already beginning to feel uncomfortably swollen. If he didn't find any medical supplies soon, it could get infected. What was worse, he didn't know exactly how this disease—plague—whatever it was spread. All he knew was that if you got bitten you were as good as dead. It was possible there was another way to catch it, and being too careful never hurt anybody. Cautiously moving past the warehouse, Killian didn't like the feeling of being so exposed. He needed to find a secure place to spend the night. He wasn't sure if he'd sleep, even when he definitely needed it.
The area between the warehouse and the rest of the chain-link fence was uncomfortably tight. He managed to press his back against the cement wall and move his way through without another scratch, but paused just as he reached the corner. Killian's eyes darted quickly back and forth. Was it safe? Well...nothing was ever safe now. Even the living posed a massive threat to one another now. There was no way anybody could truly trust one another. People were inherently selfish, and in an instant they would turn on one another. He'd seen that when the world was still relatively normal. There was no reason things wouldn't be even worse when shit had hit the proverbial fan.
Looking out at the street, all Killian saw was a road with two sidewalks on either side; another chain-link fence and industrial equipment everywhere. It was highly unlikely he'd find anything useful around here besides undead employees. Trash littered the ground everywhere; of course, what people were still running the trash trucks around anymore? Luckily, the coast seemed clear. Still, Killian was uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he was whenever he carefully crossed the grounds to the other end of the road. Climbing over the chain link fence, he made sure not to get scratched again this time. Luckily the other side seemed to be a residential area. An abandoned neighborhood was a hot spot for biters no doubt, but he was getting desperate. Killian could already see the sun dipping even closed towards the horizon.
Killian headed to the first house, looking carefully through the windows. His heart leapt to his throat when a biter slammed its face against the window with a vicious snarl. It left a trail of fleshy decay when it tried to claw at him through the glass. Quickly turning away, Killian warily padded up to the next house. His stomach was growing more insistent now, rumbling louder by the second. his body was weak with both hunger and exhaustion. Peering through the doggy flap at the bottom of the door, Killian saw no feet shuffling around idly in the first room. Trying the door, relief flooded over him when the handle turned without a problem. Pushing his way into the house, Killian closed the door hastily behind him and locked it. With a quick once-over and peek in every room, the house was confirmed to be empty.
Through his walk around the house, Killian had rummaged around the kitchen cupboards. He'd found a small box of band-aids and a cold can of soup. Both would have to do. Settling down on the living room floor, he forced open the box of band-aids and quickly placed several in a row on his arm to cover up the wound. Scanning the draws again, he found a tape dispenser. He painstakingly secured each bandage into place. With his wound taken care of, Killian cracked the can of soup open and greedily ate all of it. He was left with a sinking disappointment when the can was empty, but at least it had edged off some of his hunger for now.
With Killian's wound covered, his hunger somewhat satisfied and a safe place to sleep, Killian settled down on the floor. A heavy wave of exhaustion swept over him, guiding him into a dreamless sleep.