Hey guys, I am leaving this here. Since I am usually a perfectionist, I've decided to go "screw it all" and just throw this in here. UNBETA'D UNCHECKED AND PURE....
It takes hour before I fall asleep, and even then my sleep is unruly, waking and sleeping what seems every few minutes. I feel more awake then asleep, but after the first time of waking it's completely dark around me, and Coach snores lightly through the night. My head is fuzzy, my body hot and cold at the same time. It has to be a cold, and there's only one cold roaming about nowadays...
I'm just about to get up and take my turn at the watch early, when I feel someone gently shaking my good shoulder. Probably Rochelle to wake me for my watch, or Ellis depending on how long I've been dying over here. I push myself up, and force my eyes open.
I'm met with slit eyes burning yellow and orange in the red room, and bloodied teeth gleaming in the light right above me. A bony hand with long claws is curled around my good shoulder, and an inhuman snarl echoes through the room, as if coming from everywhere.
I kick wildly at the horrifying creature and roll over on my stomach, my hands search over the pulsating floors trying to find a weapon, tangling my legs in the coiling sheets. The whole room spins in front of my eyes, and in the dark I can see the glowing silhouettes of more monsters, their glowing eyes barely visible in the dark. My fingers find the cool surface of my magnum, and I curl my hand around the grip, rolling on my side and aiming at the monstrosity crouching on the floor.
Rochelle stares back at me with wide eyes, the barrel of my magnum pointing right between her eyes. If it hadn't been for my shock at seeing her instead of the monster, I might have killed her. I drop the magnum in my lap and hunch over. Rochelle comes out of her daze, and forcefully shoves me away, smacking my head against the wall. “Do NOT do that again! Scared the LIFE outta me!” Her voice is a deadly hiss, but her eyes are widen open and she trembles as she retreats to her sleeping bag. As soon as my head stops spinning from the impact with the wall, I take a quick look around the room, finding everything just as stuffy as it had been before I fell asleep.
I sit still on my sleeping bag, and stare into the room, the panic sweat on my skin now a layer of frost so cool. At some moment, the darkness from the room is replaced by the darkness of my eyelids, but sleep refuses to come. I can't find the energy to keep my head up, and I lean it against the wall behind me, forcing long and ragged breaths through my mouth. It feels as if not breathing would be easier.
The gun slips from my fingers and lands in my lap, and I start.
My vision flashes an ugly orange pink colour, and my stomach flips violently. I pull myself up by the couch, and stumble into the tiny bathroom, promptly emptying my stomach on the floor. I groan, and lean against the wall. I have half a mind to rinse my mouth with water, but it's gone just as quickly, the drumming headache forcing me to stay leaning against the wall pathetically.
It feels like ages before I can move again, and I almost slip on my own puddle of vomit when I turn around. I just barely catch myself on the sink, and send a curse towards the puke by my feet.
It looks black, unhealthy, slimy and frighteningly familiar. My hand shakily rises towards my wounded shoulder, finding it burning hot and wet in all the wrong ways. The wound itself I can barely feel anymore, and when I pull my hand back it feels sticky. Coach's shotgun flashes briefly in my mind, together with images of the countless times I had blown an infected's brains out.
I slide down to the ground to hold my aching head in my hands. Infected. I repeat the word in my head, and try to keep my breathing steady as I do so. I'm infected, and far along too.
Something heavy pounds against the bathroom door, and I almost twist my neck when I jump up from the ground. “Nick, come on out now. We need to get goin', and we all need to use the bathroom before we go. Ain't got a lot of time workin' for us now so hurry it up... Ellis really needs to go.”
“Yea yea... I'm.. I'm almost done...Don't get yer panties in a bunch.” I can't tell if I actually say it or not, my heart beating too loudly to hear my whisper, and I pull the shower curtain loose to cover up the blackish bile on the tiled floor. I can't die. I won't let some stupid virus bacteria thing kill me after all the shit I've been through!
I turn to the sink and splash the water into my face, forcing myself awake. Sick or not, infected or not, as long as I can think I'll be shooting a gun at whatever stands in my way. I look up to the unfitting mirror on the wall and clasp a hand around the wet bandages on my shoulder before opening the bathroom door to let a very tired looking Coach in.