Chapter Two;

Curiosity Killed the Cat After All

Human kind was quickly losing the battle to save the world. The infected raged everywhere. There were few places for shelter. The clawed hands of the 'undead' were clenching at humanity's throat. The hold was not going to let up soon.

Across America the Infection had spread like wildfire. Over the two weeks since the first 'zombie outbreak' was recorded in the US it had stretched across the whole Eastern border.

It was quickly working its way West.

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He blinked lazily, hissing at the unwelcomed bout of sunlight. Arms stiff and lungs aching the Hunter pulled himself into a standing position. How long had he been unaware of the world around him? When he'd fallen asleep it was only beginning to become dark, and now he was pulling his hood farther down to hide from the sun. He must've been more exhausted than he thought.

No matter. He liked hunting at night anyways.

Taking off at a leisurely pace the creature decided to look through the rest of the building before going further. The pain lessened as he moved but didn't completely go away. He didn't expect it to, after all it hadn't ever since he'd first came to awarness. Why should it leave him be now?

His shoulders popped as he shrugged the stiffness away, walking unsteadily in an upright position. Crawling didn't seem all that appealing. Through a hole in the wall and up some uneven ground the hunter found himself faced with two directions to chose from.

To the right there was a single door. To the left there were four.

Deciding to flush out any humans he turned left.

Pushing the door open, he froze in his tracks. Eyes wide and arms shaking he observed the scene.

A woman sat on the floor; knees drawn up to her chest, arms hugging them closer, shoulders shaking with sobs, blonde hair masking his view of her face.

The hunter felt sick. He wanted to turn and run. He wanted to get away from the sobbing creature. He wanted to get so far away that he would collapse from exhaustion.

And at the same time…he was curious.

Dropping to all fours noiselessly he crawled forward. The woman continued to cry ceaselessly. He was mere inches from the girl. She didn't notice. He could see claws far larger than his own were extended from her fingers. Her skin was milky white.

Drawing closer, the Hunter held his breath against the sickly-sweet smell of blood that wafted from her. He could see her closed eyes, her tear soaked cheeks, her bloody chin, her almost white eyelashes and brow. He wondered what her skin felt like. Was it soft and warm or cold and unyeilding? Was she strong or as feeble as she looked? What was she crying for? What was there to be upset about?

Unable to resist, the Hunter lifted a clawed palm to touch the woman's arm. His knuckles just barely brushed the wonderfully warm skin when her eyes snapped open. Large, angry, glowing, blood red eyes. A horrible scream echoed from the once sobbing lips. The Hunter scrambled backwards, whining and screeching in anger. The woman rose to her feet, swiping at him. He lept away and crashed into the doorframe. She screamed again and lashed out, clipping the tips of her claws against his torso.

White hot pain seared through the Hunters body and he screamed louder, counter attacking. In a blood-thirsty rage he turned the woman to shreds of gore and blood and bits of marrow. He didn't stop until there was almost nothing left. When he did stop he just stood and stared.

The first sane thought he'd ever had (to his knowledge) ran through his mind:

What did I just do?

Panic. Sheer panic began to flow through him. He stared at his claws, remembering what her skin felt like. So alive. Still there. Still…sane? Was her sorrow for so much more? What was out there before he was?

Sick. He gazed at her remains. What the heck? NO! This wasn't real. She'd never been there. The Hunter staggered back a few steps. What had she been thinking? Was she scared? Was her anger really fear? Why would she fear him? He doubled over and vomited loudly, his stomach emptying itself of it's meager contents.

He slammed the door shut, locking the remnants inside. His stomach threatened to empty itself again. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. WHY? Why had he done that? He hadn't had a single concious thought. With everything else it had been by choice. Every time he took down a human it had been to get food. He could've escaped just by running. He could've slammed the door. He could've just left her alone.

Why? Why…why...why why why why WHY? It didn't make sense. It never could.

He vomitted again. Not even bothering to straighten up this time he let everything out. He could feel her sticky blood on his face and clothing. He knew he was spattered with it.

There was no guilt. He didn't feel bad for killing her. Heck, he felt no emotion towards whatever it was that he'd just killed. All he could focus on was the way he'd moved without thought. Without reason. Without drive. It disturbed him.

His stomach kept heaving but nothing more came up with the violent convulsions. The swirling emotions calmed just enough for him to focus on movement. He shouldered his way into the next room, not caring what could be in it. It was void of anything. No 'undead', dead, or human resided in the room. No funiture or windows. It was so welcome.

He fell to the floor and let his breathing calm down. His chest hurt. He looked down and shuddered. His own darkened blood was oozing all over his hoodie. Ignoring the pain for the time being, the Hunter focused on what he'd just gone through.

Panic; all right. He could definitely use that on the hunt. Maybe the prey would reclessly respond but once he learned how it would he could take it down without effort while they were frozen in fear.

Sickness; if he could appeal to that emotion, he could render the human unprotected in a moment of surprise and disgust. He could strike while they were distracted.

Curiosity; a well placed decoy could work to his advantage. He could lure them in and devour them while they were otherwise occupied.

Shivering slightly from pain and leftover panic the Hunter curled himself into a tight ball. He didn't cry or show any emotions from the outside. In his head he was slowly sifting through who he was.

All he could remember was the sudden awareness. There HAD to be something before this. There HAD to be something better than…this.

He groaned. Unable to sleep and unable to calm himself he lay spread eagled on the floor. His breath was ragged and strained due to the injuries. His shoulders shook with each gasp. The exhales sounded scratchy like they were rattling around in his throat.

Unable to stand being motionless anymore and unable to think of any more ways to use the newfound emotions, the Hunter straightened up. Miraculously he was able to steady himself, even with the gashes quickly draining him of blood.

The Hunter slipped out the door and across the hall, entering another opening in the wall. Resting in the opening's edge, he looked over the room. Papers plastered the walls, advertising words in bright red. Words he could no longer understand. Almost angry with the room for not being interesting at all the infected began to turn away…then something caught his eye;

A small bit of fuzz on the floor…

It was dark in color and curly. He dropped into a crouch, holding a palm to his wounds, and crawled towards the thing. Running his claw-tips over the fuzz, he discovered it was soft. Almost like his hair and the comforting hoodie around him. Scratching around in the fuzz he tried to think of how the thing looked familiar.

No such luck befell him. So, he just stood and turned to leave once more. The plushy thing had gotten caught on his claw and something followed his rising form. It bounced off of his leg and shocked him into freezing.

Confused and aghast by whatever it was the hunter flung his arm around feebly, trying to free his claws from the fuzz.

Growling feraly he held the offending hand up to examine. A tiny cloth figure in the likeness of a human dangled from his talons. Stunned, he used the pal of his free hand to lift the toy further. The blood on his fingers covered the figurine in brownish red liquid. He looked over every aspect of the doll; Raven black hair and carefully stitched blue eyes, neatly drawn eyebrows, a handmade orange dress, and black knitted socks. It wasn't a very large object but somehow it was painstakingly familiar.

Not at all perturbed the hunter closed his claws, tearing through the nicely made doll. It fell in ribbons of torn cloth and soft stuffing. That was rather familiar too.

Shaking off the last remnants of the doll he continued into the halway.

He headed back to the stairwell, glancing down the dark descent before scampering into the last room. He froze.

Another Hunter stood totally stiff and staring back at him, just on the other side of the room. It was hunched over at the shoulders, bleeding heavily, panting in great heaves. The first hunter stumbled backwards at the same moment as the second and they both crashed into the walls on either side of the room.

And so they stood. Just gazing in shock. The second hunter made no move to attack. So he wondered if he should take the advantage. Stike now. Take down the enemy.

Then something occurred to him.

The other hunter moved at the same moments, the same way, didn't make any noise, and had a matching wound. It was him!

Just a reflection. He calmed his nerves and examined himself.

He was, in a word, grotesque.

Grime caked his cheeks and his clothing was covered in several coats of blood. His hoodie was ripped; torn to show blackish blood dripping from his injury. He winced and held up his hands. Even from a distance the claws gleamed with the red liquid from the witch and tiny bits of the doll still clung to the razor sharp edges.

Drawing closer to the mirror image he examined his face up close. Gray skin stretched over sallow cheeks and his eyes seemed to sink too far back into his head. The eyes themselves were a cloudy blue that almost seemed white. The whites around the irises were bloodshot and his pupils were mere pinpoints, giving him a crazed look.

His reflection confused him and sparked intrigue, but there was no panick or surprise at the view of such a demonic appearance.

Shrugging and wiping some of the blood from his face with the back of his hand he turned away from the mirror image and left the tiled white room. Heading back to the empty room the hunter unzipped his hood and carefully removed it, dropping it to the floor

Then he eased the sweat stained under shirt up and over his head, letting it follow suit with the hoodie.

Dropping to all fours and covering the distance from the empty room to the tiled one, the creature reminded himself, 'Easy now…No need to injure yourself further.'

He looked at the mirror image. Then turned away, disgusted with the wounds glaring back at him. Growling darkly at the memory of the crying woman, he wiped the blood away with dirty hands. It hurt more than just letting the injury bleed.

Screeching and baring his teeth the hunter looked frantically around the tiled room for relief. A soft piece of cloth hung over a cracked glass door and he snatched it up. He pressed the white cloth to his chest, still screeching and whimpering in pain.

"Hnnnnnn…" He slowly calmed the shaking and screeching enough to look at the now bloodstained cloth…then pressed it against himself again, holding his breath against the stench of infected blood.

After what seemed like an eternity later the bleeding ceased and the hunter let the towel drop with a sickening splat.

Too tired to care he kicked it away and staggered to the empty room.

He dropped to the floor with a loud thud and fell asleep in seconds, drained both physically and mentally.

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And that's chapter two :D

Thanks to the reviewers, please keep sending those in! This story has already taken a turn for the better and the plot is about to take off.

If I get no reviews then the story will suffer from lack of inspiration.