raced.
So, he had simply pissed on another victim; the killer’s own brother. The guy himself was still alive, or at least was alive recently. The prospects were grim. Dan and Drew were still in danger, possibly. There was no way of knowing if the guy was still alive or not. But with the sighting of the stranger by the trees, it was clear that he was out there.
But why the infected didn’t attack him… that wasn’t so clear.
Maybe there was something in what he said. The infected avoided attacking the more powerful types. If this guy was a killer, then Jake’s theory about Stalkers was correct. But that didn’t make sense. The horse had become a Stalker. Horses weren’t killers. Maybe the key factor wasn’t aggression, as it pertained to violence, but maybe just aggression related to metabolism or strength. Horses had high metabolisms, and were very high-strung.
That had to be it. Right?
Dan sighed, finally feeling the effects of the Vicodin. He knew if he hadn’t taken them, he would be panicking by now. Anybody would. Instead, he calmly lifted the notebook again and continued reading.
I can feel myself changing on the inside. My gut is twirling like a centrifuge. I know something is going on in there. My appearance is also very strange. My skin is becoming pale and hard. My eyes seem to be sinking in, and my teeth hurt like hell. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I like it.
It feels powerful.
Things are looking up, but I feel tired. Think I’ll go downstairs and curl up in the storeroom.
“Oh shit,” Dan whispered. “The storeroom.”
Jake yawned beside him, rolling over to his back and rubbing his eyes. Dan looked outside. The sun was beginning to rise, giving the fog a pale glow. All Dan could see was the grayish, bare skeletons of the trees. It was deathly and almost frightening.
“Have you been up all night?” Jake asked.
Dan shook his head, turning away from the scene outside. “No,” he said. “I just woke up a little while ago. Been reading these notebooks.”
“You’re gonna drive yourself batty reading that shit. I would burn ‘em. Except for the drawings, of course.”
“Yeah,” Dan said. “That reminds me. We should tear those pages out and put them in the Compendium.”
“Good idea,” Jake replied, standing up and heading for the couch.
“Where are you going?” Dan asked.
“I’m gonna put together the flamethrower,” Jake said.
“Need some help?”
“Nah. Get some more sleep or something. I like to work alone when I do that shit.”
Dan nodded, settling back down to enjoy his buzz. “Cool,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just relax. I need it.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, grinning. “You’re lookin’ kind of grizzled.”
As Jake closed the door, Dan put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts went wild, and he pictured crazy dude in his murder room banging his zombie wife. He imagined how the man would look now if he was infected, and why he didn’t just go bat-shit crazy like everyone else. Granted, he was quite obviously there to begin with; maybe that was it. Even a pathogen that made people go mad and eat their brains would likely not have much of an impact on such a scrambled mind… right?
And the thought of having come so close to finding his “napping” form in the storeroom gave him chills. Dan had looked there and saw nothing. Little did he know that his own doom was mere inches away, slumbering in some weird and disgusting manner? Did crazy dude form a cocoon? Was he changing into something else?
“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Drew asked in a falsetto voice.
Dan turned, rolling over on his side. “Shit is crazy as hell with that serial killer,” he said.
Drew rolled his eyes. “He’s dead, man,” Drew said. “We burned his house down. Let it go.”
“We did,” Dan agreed, “but the guy in the bed was his brother. He’s still out there somewhere, watching us.”
“His brother?” Drew asked,
So, he had simply pissed on another victim; the killer’s own brother. The guy himself was still alive, or at least was alive recently. The prospects were grim. Dan and Drew were still in danger, possibly. There was no way of knowing if the guy was still alive or not. But with the sighting of the stranger by the trees, it was clear that he was out there.
But why the infected didn’t attack him… that wasn’t so clear.
Maybe there was something in what he said. The infected avoided attacking the more powerful types. If this guy was a killer, then Jake’s theory about Stalkers was correct. But that didn’t make sense. The horse had become a Stalker. Horses weren’t killers. Maybe the key factor wasn’t aggression, as it pertained to violence, but maybe just aggression related to metabolism or strength. Horses had high metabolisms, and were very high-strung.
That had to be it. Right?
Dan sighed, finally feeling the effects of the Vicodin. He knew if he hadn’t taken them, he would be panicking by now. Anybody would. Instead, he calmly lifted the notebook again and continued reading.
I can feel myself changing on the inside. My gut is twirling like a centrifuge. I know something is going on in there. My appearance is also very strange. My skin is becoming pale and hard. My eyes seem to be sinking in, and my teeth hurt like hell. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I like it.
It feels powerful.
Things are looking up, but I feel tired. Think I’ll go downstairs and curl up in the storeroom.
“Oh shit,” Dan whispered. “The storeroom.”
Jake yawned beside him, rolling over to his back and rubbing his eyes. Dan looked outside. The sun was beginning to rise, giving the fog a pale glow. All Dan could see was the grayish, bare skeletons of the trees. It was deathly and almost frightening.
“Have you been up all night?” Jake asked.
Dan shook his head, turning away from the scene outside. “No,” he said. “I just woke up a little while ago. Been reading these notebooks.”
“You’re gonna drive yourself batty reading that shit. I would burn ‘em. Except for the drawings, of course.”
“Yeah,” Dan said. “That reminds me. We should tear those pages out and put them in the Compendium.”
“Good idea,” Jake replied, standing up and heading for the couch.
“Where are you going?” Dan asked.
“I’m gonna put together the flamethrower,” Jake said.
“Need some help?”
“Nah. Get some more sleep or something. I like to work alone when I do that shit.”
Dan nodded, settling back down to enjoy his buzz. “Cool,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just relax. I need it.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, grinning. “You’re lookin’ kind of grizzled.”
As Jake closed the door, Dan put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts went wild, and he pictured crazy dude in his murder room banging his zombie wife. He imagined how the man would look now if he was infected, and why he didn’t just go bat-shit crazy like everyone else. Granted, he was quite obviously there to begin with; maybe that was it. Even a pathogen that made people go mad and eat their brains would likely not have much of an impact on such a scrambled mind… right?
And the thought of having come so close to finding his “napping” form in the storeroom gave him chills. Dan had looked there and saw nothing. Little did he know that his own doom was mere inches away, slumbering in some weird and disgusting manner? Did crazy dude form a cocoon? Was he changing into something else?
“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Drew asked in a falsetto voice.
Dan turned, rolling over on his side. “Shit is crazy as hell with that serial killer,” he said.
Drew rolled his eyes. “He’s dead, man,” Drew said. “We burned his house down. Let it go.”
“We did,” Dan agreed, “but the guy in the bed was his brother. He’s still out there somewhere, watching us.”
“His brother?” Drew asked,
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