The Infected: Fogo Island (17)

seventeen: killing bastards again


I hear screaming. I don't feel nothing. You would assume I would at least feel my heartbeat but I don't. I pry my eyes open and understand why. I'm still on the ground, a slight frost has covered my exposed skin. I'm freezing.

"CHARLIE! DON'T MOVE I'M SENDING SOMEONE TO GET YOU!" I hear a female voice cry out but can't identify it. It seems so familiar though.

The bitterness of the cold paralyses me; my legs numb and everything else as well. I want to move, I even try to roll myself over, but my body doesn't respond to my commands. I'm like a broken computer left in a random abandoned school. Ha, school. That thought brings me back to several months ago when life had been normal, pleasant.

Sure, I was bullied for being the biggest loser in school but at least I had life. I had Grams, who was more of a mom to me then my own mother; I had David. Oh, David. If only he was here right now to save me from this. And Greta - poor little Greta, caught in the middle of a war that didn't concern her. An innocent victim in a stupid clash of egos. And all of this because of my parents.

The anger that is summoned the moment I think of my parents is enough to rattle me. I'm not going to give up. They have to answer to what they did. I will -

"Hhrrrr"

what was that? It sounded like a moan or a growl. Fuck, fuck, fuck; there's something behind me.

"CHARLIE!!" The voice came again. The voice of my mother; the noise that is attracting the zombie to the tree. "CHARLIE, PLEASE ANSWER ME!"

I think of everything good that ever happened in my life, I gather all those memories, and I draw from them the energy and hope I need to move. Every muscle in my body contracts the moment I roll over.

"Aaaah!!" The pain is unbearable. I hear my mother scream my name again, and it's really starting to get on my nerves. I'm in such a bad position right now. My foot has swollen to near giantess proportions. Although my mind wants to focus on the pain, my heart and soul is ready to attack.

I lay on my back on the frozen ground, still as a leaf. It's white all around except in front of me where a lone bastard crawls desperately my way. Just a few feet from my face. I've felt safe for too long - I forgot how scary those fucking freaks were! Its legs had been either blown off or ripped off, and the sight alone of its naked rotten body made me gag. The smell made me vomit. Little came out and it was all over my chest.

I'm in a daze, half frozen. Nobody seems to be coming out of the hole to come and save me and I'm starting to think that maybe the hole isn't safe. I tilt my head sideways to watch the zombie - its barely moved, still trying to claw his way forward. I suddenly remember my spear, it fell not far from me. I turn my head the other side and spot it just as arms reach.

I hear something to my left just as I grab the spear. The noise is coming closer and closer. I clench the spear and roll over just as something flashes to my right. The zombie growls and I spear him right between the eyes. I use the zombie's weight to help me get up by pushing on the spear.

"Whoa, whoa, don't move you're hurt!" A man tells me. He's tall and dark-skinned - and I don't recognize the accent. He rushes to me and helps me towards a tree. He calls for more help, and then turns his attention back to me.

"You have a clean shot, young girl. Not your first kill, am I correct?" His eyes meet mine and I feel like he's examined my soul. There is so much compassion in his eyes.

"Who...who are you." I manage to say between breaths. My lungs hurt so much and my throat is so dry.

"My name is Dr. Malik Chatterjee, and I'm a friend of your mother."

A friend of my mother. And just like that, I trust the doctor a little less.