Now upgraded to high class writing from commoner/amateur works :D Big thanks to Inki Veins for that :heart:

Sooo...yeah. Hi :D

Came up with this story after drawing quite alot of Smoker and Hunter fanart. (Not all consisting of pairings mind you) I'm pretty sure you'll get the jist of whose gonna become what infected and what-not through this chapter. So I'll just seal my mouth and let you continue reading :I

Chance walked into the 7-Eleven he always went to, the bell greeting him with the same zeal. He walked down the aisles and grabbed the Daily Herald, flipping through the news. Once again, plastered on the front page, was news about the Green Flu. He almost threw down the paper, but decided to keep it for his roommate. He snatched up a bag of Lays chips and some Little Debbie snacks. He sauntered up and down the aisles before heading for the cash register.

"Hey Nancy, did you get my smo...holy shit."

He froze in his spot. There was a figure crouched over, making constant and sloppy crunch crunch crunch sound from in front of itself. Chance leaned to the left an inch and he nearly gagged. Nancy's sightless eyes were staring at him through the blood covering what was left of her face. Her nose was missing and it looked as if something had ripped off her lower jaw to get at her tongue, which was also gone.

The nicotine addict was pulled from his fear when he finally realized that this...man was devouring the store clerk rather messily and hastily, as if he were going to lose his food to another cannibal. He backed up and his leg brushed against a magazine stand. As if God was punishing him for something long ago, maybe when he socked that guy from work in the eye for calling him a fag, the stand crashed to the floor with the loudest clatter.

The man froze and snapped his head around, crazed eyes staring at the stranger who had been watching. He rose, blocking off the teen's next item of choice: cigarettes. Chance took a step back, his shoe covering the front of Vogue magazine. The man screamed and charged, bloodied nails grabbing for something.

Chance just bolted. He ran out of the store door, still clutching his stolen wares. He could still see Nancy's face, pleading for him to help her survive. He wasn't about to help her. She needed to take care of herself. He had to learn quickly that it was all for one and one for all. Sure, he could've played hero...and gotten his own face chewed off.

He went down the street, confident he lost his pursuer. What should he do now? Call the police? Act like he didn't see anything? He was sure someone on the streets saw him and that he had walked past the two video cameras. If anything was like CSI, his DNA would be there, be it skin or hair or God-only-knows what else.

Chance bumped into someone and he muttered an apology, but it was ignored. He looked around and saw a huge crowd yelling at...the cops? After shuffling around to find a spot, he saw what everyone was so interested in. A woman was being stuffed into an ambulance, screaming bloody murder. Her arm seemed to be missing, and a corpse was laying face-first in the police-made circle, an arm in its grasp.

A man next to Chance coughed loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth. Cops nearby screamed for the man to fall to the ground. People nearby flew back and gave the approaching cops room. The teen backed away slightly, but still kept his eyes on the scene. One officer called over an EMT to get another ambulance.

The man rose his head and stared at Chance with blank eyes. He lunged forward and bit the teen in the lower leg. An officer shot the crazed individual when he pulled back. The woman almost looked for the bitten individual, but a crowd had broken through the man-made barrier to attack the ambulance. Chance took the opportunity to back away and he ran home, his entire leg feeling on fire.

He passed other individuals vomiting and falling over, and at one case, a small group of three or four were going after a stray dog. He ran all the way to his apartment, his tar-coated lungs fighting him every step. He ran up the two flights of stairs and down a hall before shoving his key into the doorknob, running in, and slamming the door closed behind him.

"ALAN!"

His Latino friend walked out from the bathroom, a worried look on his face. "What's with the screaming, Chance? You look like you ran-" The younger caught the snacks and paper that were thrown his way and he watched his companion rush to turn the television to the news. Both boys sat on the living room sofa and Chance turned the TV up so they could hear the reporter.

"Reports have come flooding in stating that people all over the nation have caught a new virus known commonly as the Green Flu. Witnesses have stated that victims become reanimated after death, chasing after humans with cannibalistic needs. The only ways that disease can reportedly be contracted it through contact with an infected individual's bodily fluids. Police and other government officials are attempting to quarantine the area, highly recommending civilians to return to a safe, secured area till further notice."

"Holy shit," Alan breathed, watching the live views of the streets below.

Chance stood up to go grab a Coke from the fridge. "My words exactly. We better barricade the house and stay put until this thing blows over."

"And how long will that take? A few months? We need food, water, stuff like that."

"I didn't mean forever, Alan. It'll pass in a week, then, if you want, we'll go to the government officials and they'll take us someplace...safer, I guess. This isn't like one of your video games." Chance opened his stash of emergency smokes and pulled out a box, taking one of the nicotine sticks and lighting it. The way his lungs relaxed instantly was wonderful.

Alan eventually fell silent and both boys went about the rest of the day. That is, until a loud pounding at the door jarred Chance from his peaceful sleep. He shot up. Did Alan forget his keys or something?

"Alan?" he called.

"Chance! HELP!"

Chance jumped up and ran for the bedroom to find his roommate being pulled out of the window. The smoker went over and slammed the window sill down. He took out a pocket knife and sliced the thing, causing whatever it was, to release. Both of them rolled onto the floor and looked at whatever had a hold on the younger teen. It was a slimy, gray-pink rope that had bumps lining the entirely of its surface. When they tried to pull it off, it slipped from their hands.

"What the hell is this?" Alan complained, watching black blood seep from the cut appendage. "I open a window to get fresh air and this...thing grabs me."

The front door gave a loud crash and an even louder collective scream broke forth. Chance ran to the bedroom door and slammed it closed, pushing the dresser against the wooden entrance to buy them time. Chance went to the closet and tossed Alan a backpack and a box. He pulled out a large metal pipe. The dresser rocked with the force of the intruders. Alan opened the box in his hands.

"A gun? I don't know how to work one of these in real life!"

Chance snatched the weapon, checked the clip, and readied it to be fired. "Just point and shoot. The first few times are always the hardest. You'll get used to it."

"Why can I carry the pipe?" Alan whined.

"Because I'm the one who's played baseball, done fencing, and lived on the streets for years." The older teen went to the window to make sure the coast was clear before climbing out onto the fire escape. "Come on. Hurry up!"

Alan scurried out and they looked down. The streets were overrun with the cannibalistic creatures, so they went up the metal stairs as quickly as they could. On the fifth floor, the ladder was stuck. The infected humans had finally decided to follow the two teens up the stairs. Alan popped off a shot shakily and caused a cascade of angry bodies. They jumped up to the next landing, Chance first. He reached for his friend to lift him up when the younger tripped and fell over, giving the swarming cannibals an advantage.

He screamed as he was bitten into. "Son of a bitch! Get off, mother fucker!" He fired at the swarm. One snatched the gun from his hands. More infected people crawled out of open windows to follow the commotion and fresh food.

Chance called down, "I'm coming back down," when his friend shouted out "NO! Get the hell out of here!"

Chance watched as the fire escape gave out below him and his friend and hundreds of cannibalistic men and women tumbled to the ground in a collective scream. The smoker took a deep breath and scaled the remaining steps, heading for the roof.

Stupid stupid stupid STUPID repeated in his head, even as stranglers took off after him. He just let his best friend die. He should've stayed, but his one for all sense kicked in. His leg was still burning at him. It was itching like hell. He swung at the stranglers and climbed onto the roof as the final weight of the remaining part of the fire escape gave way and tumbled to the ground, burying all the others below in a heap of bodies, blood, and metal. He couldn't differentiate his friend from the others.

Chance went to a broken air conditioner, pulled out a smoke, and stared at the sky. For some strange reason, he laughed softly to himself. In the back of his mind, something struck him as funny, and it pulled him from his stupor.

"At least I didn't die a virgin..." he muttered, taking another tobacco drag.