#doyouevenreadthese

Sunday

I decided to do some walking around today. This is the third week I've been stuck in my office since everything went awry. There have been riots outside, I've heard them; but they only lasted about 2 weeks, I hear only the occasional scream now. I've survived solely on potato chips and water. I seem to have lost the equivalent of a 2 month old in body fat during time.

I decided to walk out of project Rebirth, or what was left of it. Everyone left in quite the hurry.I went into the 7th floor's common area. overturned couches and broken coffee pots lay about. Even the fridge was missing, location: unknown. Although that could have been from the collapse of our company rather than our imminent demise

That's when I heard the footsteps.They were running, to or what from I've no clue, but they were in the building.

Tytan Labs was a secured building, you couldn't get in without an eye scan and finger print. The thought sent shivers down my spine.

I began to sweat; I heard a door slam, on this floor.

More footsteps. 

Another door.

I hid behind one of the suede loveseats that was closest to the wall. I heard it inch towards me. A metallic object, scraping against the tile, presumably a weapon. It whistled, like a call. He or she was beckoning me, it wanted to kill.

It- or he for that matter- finally came into view. He was a tall, lanky man. He looked as if he was once a miner, or another profession requiring large upper body strength, but that was long ago. He was carrying a metal pole. Dragging it, giving the occasional bounce against the uneven floor.

Worst of all, he was pale, with the same eyes the rats had.

I was poised in a crouching position, hands shaking and dizzy. I could hardly stay still my heart was beating so fast. 

As far as I could tell he was unaware of me. I took this opportunity to strike. I took what could have been my last breath and I ran full blast at him, knocking him into a wall. He dropped his pole and struck me in the side of the face with his fist.

I fell and he mounted me, posing for another bone shattering blow. 

I panicked. My one arm and two legs were useless. I knew that I surely would die if I did not act. 

So I acted.

As a child.

I grabbed his free arm, pulled it towards my face and bit as hard as I could into the flesh of my assailant. He shouted in pain, as one should when one suspects the ulna to be broken. But this was different.

It was as if I had set this man on fire and now he was burning alive. He was screaming, like a harsh animalistic screech . He was trying to say something, a word. I couldn't make it out, partly because the blood hadn't flown away from my head. He screamed until he had gotten to the elevator, then passed out.

At this point I had three options. Chop this thing's head off or tie him up for further study. And then the third option. I hadn't eaten for days. I was starving. But that too, I knew wasn't an option. Death was better than whatever that Infection did to you. 

  Wednesday

I decided to keep him. He's been my source of entertainment for the last couple days. I always bring the fire axe with me when I go into his room now. 

Over time I've noticed his pigment changing. looking fuller. I'm too scared to check his eyes for fear of him waking up (if he's not already dead) and finishing me off. My face hasn't healed by the looks of it either.

I've sat in this room for hours, trying to see the change I believe is happening. I'm starting to believe he isn't actually infected.

I'm considering going and killing him. 

He woke up today. Full pigmentation, breathing normally and his eyes; pure green. 

"H-hello ?"

"Mm. . Wharg? Whart do you warnt from me." He gurgled and spat out.

"What are you doing in this building?" I tried as assertively as I could.

"Look fucker," He gathered, " I walked in here looking for food. same as the rest of t-" He chortled a confused and painful moan and looked at me.

"What the fuck did you do to me you bastard!"

"I've no clue what you're implying. That I drugged you? No."

"So . . what? You jump me, knock me out and tie me up? Is this a joke?"

"Well, not exactly. There was a scuffle and I. .. seem to have bitten you a bit."

He looked down at his arm and there was my full imprint, about a 1/4 inch deep.

"You. . You bit me? What the fuck?  Why am I tied up?"

"Ah yes, you were infected with an altered gene, Strain-9 it's called."

"Strain-7 you mean." He cut in.

"No, Strain-9, it started here, so I would know." I retorted quite triumphantly. "It causes the recipient mass hysteria, hallucinations and the craving for flesh."

"Flesh? Like , other people flesh, like your flesh?"

"That was my thought." I cleared my throat "I had another thought as well. I think I may have a cure."

"To the . . Infection? You think that you can fix it? How? With what?"

"Well, I bit you earlier right?"

"Yes, thank you, asshole."

"And you were infected. But now you're not"

"So you're saying that you have the "cure" or whatever?"

"Well, not exactly, but I cured you."

"Wait a minute, if you do have it that means you can give it to other people."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Why not. You have something that could save people."

"I don't really care much for people." I tried to say as sympathetically as possible.

"We could cure a whole village, and rebuild, you know?"

"I don't know"

"So you just want to live in this wasteland? Rotting away?"

"No, I mean eventually I thought of trying to find survivors and maybe. . But now?"

"If not now, when? Man up, untie me and lets get to saving the world!"

"It's not that simple, I can't just go around biting everyone. We don't even know how I can administer it."

"Look, I'll stay and help you, mostly 'cause this shit is crazy. But first thing is first. We need to find food."

"We have to go outside." I whispered.

"We have to go outside." He said.

"I'm Marcus by the way" I said.