Diary of Infection: A cure for death
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I think about my old life I can't help but realize how I squandered the gift I was given. I spent my time retreating from people, playing video games, watching internet porn and living off delivered pizza. It was a pointless way to live and I know that now. Yet I choose it and lived it happily.
Being a z-bee opened my eyes, made me realize that normal people where not the monsters I pictured them as. No they weren't but now I am. I'm an atrocity to nature and a predator to my prey. I am a z-bee, the cure for death, a fountain of youth that so many longed for. Yet this fountain of youth decomposes slowly while it lives. What a horrible twist to an ancient idea. How I wish I could end my undead life as this murderous mound of flesh.
The twist of fate is in death I am not alone. Far from it. I have Rosie, who has been very attached to me ever since she collected me from my 7-11 hideout. Then there is Juice, also known as the one eyed bandit since the shopping cart incident that claimed his eye. Jackel is the newest member of this group. He's far more decomposed than the rest of us and lacks his right hand and the left side of his face. He's literally falling apart and losing body parts daily. There are two other z-bees, a male and female, but they come and go as they please. I named them Hansel and Gretal since they are always together.
I have been a z-bee for at least a month now, I think. When you don't sleep time blends together and is hard to measure. My whole unlife, as I call it, has been spent outside a wal-mart that contains at least 6 fleshies, which is what I call living breathing humans. They murdered an infected human; he was going to join us. That was why we came to this place, not just for them but to collect our newest member. This murder of a z-bee changling has caused Rosie to become obsessed with revenge upon these fleshies.
One of these fleshies my body, uncontrolled by my mind since the change, craves more than any other flesh I have feasted upon. A pregnant woman, who kept me from having my unlife ended by another fleshie that shot me, is the source of this craving.
Yet I can't help but feel bad for these fleshies, even though my body isn't mine to control my mind is and I feel that tinge of human sympathy for them. Eventually they will either join us or be eaten alive instead of being changed. Seems like this will happen more sooner than later.
Their safety inside the wal mart fortress may be ending soon and they don't even realize it yet. Rosie has discovered a way inside the wal mart walls through a ventilation shaft she slammed into. It is low to the ground but goes upwards then straight into the drop ceiling air conditioner shaft. The perfect way in undetected.
Problem is Rosie cannot fit into the opening. A steady stream of unfortunate fleshies have been coming our way and have satisfied our nightly meals. There is a broadcast coming from the wal mart encouraging fleshies to come here to be safe, but we pick them off before they find a way inside. I heard the broadcast from the truck of an elderly man and young girl we devoured awhile ago. The fleshies inside the store caught on quickly, and must be annoyed we are killing the ones they summon. They have been shooting at us through the shopping cart blockade for a few days.
Rosie is already in rough shape since a mangled cart tore her back and arm open. She's well fed and fat now but being well fed doesn't help the fact that she is losing the ability to stand upright. The exposed vertebras of her spine are slowly deteriorating and losing strength. The pus splashes to the ground when it’s built up enough around her injuries and leaves stains along the pavement. To make matters worse the fleshies shot her in the leg and she's almost immobile now. She pulls herself along the ground with her good arm but soon she may be completely and utterly still. So the shaft seems to be left for my body to explore.
My body made it inside the shaft once but then got stuck. I guess my body will be trying again once nightfall sets in and we z-bees sense the fleshie hearts beats have slowed, indicating they are asleep. Hard to believe the cure for death would be a corpse with no need for an aware mind, only control of its body, a working heart, pus for blood and the ability hear live hearts beating. Being a z-bee is a terrible punishment since your mind is left with no control and to fend for itself. Hard to believe I have kept it together this long.
My body slinks its way into the shaft again and pulls itself along carefully. In this moment I start to question exactly what guides my body. I certainly don't control what my arms and legs do so what does? My deduction is that the pus controls my body, the pus that rapidly replaced my blood. What if that's the key, the pus? My thoughts are interrupted by searing pain in my thigh but my body ignores it and keeps going. I'm pretty sure I just caught a loose corner of the metal shaft and tore my leg open.
Suddenly my body comes to a jolting halt. I can hear a heart beating, strong and steady. Inching forward my body comes to a grate overlooking an office and I realize my body won, I'm inside the wal-mart. Remorse is the worst emotion to have and now I dwell on it relentlessly. I can't stop my body or warn these people. They are doomed now that my body has made it inside.
My body keeps going forward past the first grate and looks down the next. There stacking what looks like test tubes is the man who shot me. My body tenses remembering vividly the bullet tearing my shoulder open. Yet in my mind, I want to scream, to yell and kick to warn him. Instead my body starts to back up and out of the shaft. Puzzling the fleshie was right there and my body simply left.
Dumbfounded as I am, I am also relieved. Why would my z-bee body leave when the fleshie was so close? Shambling a bit because of the slice in my thigh, my corpse makes its way back to Rosie and the look on her face proves my idea that our bodies experience the same events. Rosie knows I was inside, I can feel it somehow. My body and Rosie are the only ones that know why I retreated from the shaft while my mind is left to wonder.
Now we stand resting and grumbling to one another. In the silence I become lost in thought. What if I lose the ability to control my thoughts next? Obviously my body and mind are two separate entities functioning as individuals. What if the longer I stay a z-bee the more my mind dies? Would it be good to not know the atrocities my body commits, to be an empty shell? Would it be a relief to not think and not witness my unlife? Is this loss of mental capability already starting?
Honestly I don't remember much anymore. I can't recall my parent’s names or what high school I attended. I can't remember my favorite pizza topping or my pet goldfish name. What if this is the last phase? In a way maybe it would be a relief for my mind to die, and then I would be at peace while my body wreaks havoc upon these last lonely survivors. Before I can consider my idea further my body sets into action.
Rosie, Juice and Jackel, in the pitch dark that I never even noticed had set in, start bunbarding the shopping cart barrier. I am a bit startled as to why the sudden attack when they know it’s fruitless. Not long after Hansel and Gretal appear as if summoned by some unseen force. Don’t they know they aren't getting in through there? Our bodies have been trying for as long as I have been a z-bee with no signs of gaining entrance. I wait to see what my body decides to do to help.
Instead it drags itself towards the shaft once again. Now I find my mind questioning my body even though I know it won't answer back. What is it doing? Rosie and the others aren't even following, it’s like they are distracted....then an idea hits me and shocks my already frazzled mind. They aren't distracted from what I am doing, they are creating a distraction. This must have been what they were grumbling about earlier. For christs sake our corpses are learning! God help humanity, we z-bees can learn!
Before my mind can comprehend this revelation my body hoists itself back into the shaft and continues to the spot it left off. Now the office is completely empty, the gunshots echoing in the distance reinforce the fact tha
t the office will stay that way for some time. The grate dislodges easily and my body drops to the ground roughly.
It’s not an office I stand in as much as a laboratory. There are test tubes here and there, chemicals and odd smells. Then a smell I recognize which surprises me. I smell at least 2 more z-bees, which means I am not alone. As if my body understands it moves forward shambling, dragging my injured leg towards a large plastic sheet dividing this room. The infected flesh smell is stronger and I see shapes behind the curtain. My body takes this opportunity to tear the sheet down. I see them before my body even has a chance to react.
There, on 2 steel tables lies a pair of z-bees. Their dead glossed eyes shift my way and they groan in what can only be described as a painful sound. They are split open by a surgical incision from pelvis to neck, their organs exposed and glistening wetly under the light. One has the top of the skull cut off and its brain attached to a monitor. There are steel pins connected to wires leading to a machine shoved into several brain areas causing the pus to seep to the surface in small droplets.
What would normally be a pink healthy brain, now an infected