-Immunity-

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-Immunity-

Post  RabidSponge on Mon Apr 19, 2010 10:05 pm

[Ooc: Yaaaay! :’D This is the first little thing to go into the Field of Memories. I feel special, now. There's a little bit of swearing, but nothing too dramatic.
Uh, anyway, I just kind of whipped this up a little while ago, before I joined the role-play site. It just gives us an insight onto how Damien coped during the Infection’s outbreak. And such.
Also, this is why Damien gets upset whenever he’s around Keith (Newly added feature); one of his old Survivor friends shared the same name.]
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The Infection hit Britain hard.

Everywhere you looked were the inhumane bodies of those who had been infected by the rabies-like disease. Cars littered the streets, abandoned, and the air was thick with smoke, disease, and destruction. Buildings everywhere were crumbling; even the ever famous Big Ben was beginning to wilt under the pressure of the Infection. The harmful virus had migrated from America, and had found its way to London, and had wasted no time in infecting as many of the UK’s citizens as it could.
My name is Damien. I’m seventeen, and I was a high school student striving to be a doctor before the life changing apocalypse. It’s been almost three weeks since the first outbreak was recorded. I was thrown into a dystopic world, along with many others. We were struggling to survive, and many believed that we would all soon fall. They believed the Infected would freely roam the streets of our once beloved city.
I really don’t know what’s worse, death by mauling, or being plagued by the Infection.

Neither sounded very appealing.

~~~~~

I hissed in pain, clutching my tattered arm as I returned to the Survivors’ sides. The corpse of a Hunter lay a few metres behind me; the cause of my physical pain. My team was giving me concerned looks, whispering between themselves as I limped back to join them.

“Hunter got me,” I muttered, throat sore from the intense screaming when the Hunter’s claws ripped into my skin. “Thanks, guys.” Phil nodded, eyeing me wearily as Emma handed me back the gun I had dropped. The silence was awkward between us as we took a break to patch up my wounds.
“That Hunter caught me off guard,” I laughed, wrapping a bandage from just above my elbow to a little above my wrist, covering my arm and taping down the sleeves of my black hoodie. No-one answered me, however. Concerned looks shot back and forth between the three other survivors. I raised an eyebrow and pushed myself to my feet, wobbling horribly and falling onto Phil for support. He was a tall, muscular man; an athletics coach. He used to train people in the local gym. I had actually seen him around once or twice, when my father dragged me along with him. He was always so intent on me growing muscles. Phil was used to vigorous exercise, and that’s exactly what we were getting because of the Infection; it was all non-stop running from one safe sanctuary to another. There were only a handful of Survivors left, and Phil, Emma, Keith and I were one of those bedraggled groups.
Keith was not impressed with my makeshift bandaging, and forced me back down to the ground. He retied the bandages on my arms, and began wrapping up the wounds on my legs, covering the gashes on my left thigh and ankle, and most of the way down my right leg.
“I know you want to be a doctor someday, kid,” Keith grumbled, finishing off his work and helping me up once more. “But you’ll need to do better than that to stop the bleeding.” I nodded and expressed my thanks. Keith was a doctor; he was exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. I looked up to him, hoping he would teach me his expertise. Although, I highly doubt I’d be able to manage a medical career with zombies running around outside, killing all of my clients. He was my role-model, and I promised myself that once I got out of here, I would make him teach me all he knew.

“Damien, do you think you’re going to be okay?” Emma was looking at me, the worry clear in her blue eyes. Emma worked as a waitress in one of the local cafés scattered around London. I never actually figured out which one she worked at; she wouldn’t say its name. All we really knew was that her boss made her life hell, and the customers were impatient and demanding. Her determination was incredible, and it showed through the way she fought off the Infected. Armed with that assault rifle of hers, she was easily the strongest in our small group.

I laughed and pushed my glasses back up my nose, nodding all the while.
“I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry about me,” I reassured her. She smiled nervously and Phil wrapped an arm around my waist, helping me walk as we travelled along the ruined road. Truth be told, I was actually fretting a little on the inside. Keith, Phil and Emma were immune to the Infection; they had been attacked on numerous occasions, but were un-mutated and the like. Myself, however, we were unsure about. Miraculously, I’d never taken a direct blow from the Infected, or an attack that pierced my skin, at least. The older members were always looking out for me. They protected me from an onslaught, and boxed me in behind them whenever there was a horde. It was amazing how they had managed to keep me from getting too beat up, and having my skin broken directly. I think that they felt it was their responsibility to protect me, taking my age into account. I was sure that was why the team of British Survivors were concerned about my overall health, now.

We continued at a snails pace for the next few hours, often stopping when the pain the Hunter caused me was too much to bear. So far, everything seemed good; I wasn’t turning into an Infected of any sort. I must have been immune, and that’s what the other Survivors seemed to think, too. The tense atmosphere that had surrounded us earlier dissolved like sugar in water, and we were back to our usual selves. Phil and I were joking around together, and Emma and Keith were exchanging idle talk. It was nice. It would have been nicer, though, had we not been in an apocalypse of a world, but we couldn’t have everything we asked for.
Keith was just explaining to me how to perform surgery on a broken bone, when I heard something. It was a faint little something, but it was enough to make my ears prick and send me on a full alert.

“What is it, kid?” Keith asked, bringing out his hunting rifle. Phil released his hold around me and held up his shotgun, Emma following suit and having her assault rifle at the ready. I raised a finger to my lips, the pistol in my hand feeling wimpy compared to the other’s larger weapons. It was a hacking cough, followed by the faint smell of cigarette smoke.
“Smoker,” I whispered, and the team was instantly on the lookout. We inched down our path slowly, our heads whipping around, taking in as much of our surroundings as we could. My gun was shaking in my hands; I wasn’t the best marksman after all.
Minutes passed, and there still wasn’t any sign of the Smoker around the destroyed road, or the tall, decaying buildings. The Survivors were growing anxious, able to hear the threat, but unable to see it.

“Are you sure the Smoker’s following us?” Emma asked warily. “Why hasn’t it attacked yet?”
“The bastard is probably waiting for the right time,” Phil replied, swinging around and firing a shot at the ground when he heard the shifting clack of rubble. There was a long silence between us, the sound of the gunshot lingering in the air. The four of us stared at the heap of bricks and debris, seeing nothing but… well, bricks and debris.
“Nothing’s there…” Emma murmured, lowering her guard. I voiced my agreement, and we all relaxed, until we heard a familiar shrieking, growling sound.

“Ah, shit! It’s the horde!” Keith shouted, drawing out his hunting rifle and shooting wildly at the approaching mob of Common Infected. I yelped and followed suit, holding the pistol firmly with two hands and killing anything and everything that moved; save for my team-mates. The horde surrounded us quickly, and had Emma not been armed with the assault rifle, we would have been overwhelmed.

I felt a long, slimy tongue wrap around my torso and leg.
The Smoker had waited for the horde to arrive before attacking! I was about to scream for help as I was dragged away, but the cancerous Infected soon smothered my mouth as well. The Smoker’s sneak attack had worked, striking when the three stronger Survivors were busy defending themselves, and picking off the smaller, weaker human. I was thrown roughly against the wall as the Infected tried to pull me up the roof with its appendage alone. The grunting and coughing was enough to draw the attention of the remaining Survivors towards us for a brief moment, and Emma cried out to me before getting struck in the face by an attacking Common Infected.

“Shit!” Keith shouted, taking aim with his rifle. “Smoker’s got Damien!” I struggled against the Smoker’s grip, biting down on its tongue to make it release me. I felt the appendage squeeze tighter around my chest, knocking all of the air out of my lungs, and instantly stopped struggling. My feet left the ground, and soon I was dangling over the road. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, the fight or flight mechanism working its magic upon me. Neither option was available to me, however. I couldn’t run; I was hanging pretty high over the road, my limbs pinned down to my sides, and I couldn’t fight; my arm was stuck fast, and I couldn’t move my pistol at all. I was verily stuck.
“I can’t get a good shot!” Phil was panicking from down below as the horde began to thin out, zombie-like corpses dropping to the floor roughly. “I might hit Damien if I aim for the tongue, and I can’t see the Goddamn Smoker!” My heart dropped, and squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stay strong.
It was all over.

“Give me the fucking gun!”

A loud ‘bang’ sounded over my head, and I instantly dropped to the floor, smashing my head against the pavement, and cracking my glasses. I heard the Smoker hiss and retreat from above, running away to safety while waiting for its new tongue regrow. Before I knew what was happening, Keith was at my side as he worked to free me from the Infected’s tongue. Only now did I realise how oxygen deprived I was, and gulped in the sweet tasting air.

The smoke and debris that hung in the air made it seem that less sweet.

The mutated appendage was pried away from my body, and I crawled out of its grip. The bodies of the horde littered the ground. The Survivors had fended them off without requiring my help.
“Hey, shrimp, you alright?” The doctor asked me, helping me to my feet. I nodded and took off my broken glasses, turning them over in my hands and wincing at the blurred world around me.
“Just a little bruised, and I can’t see anymore,” I began, my voice a little hoarse from the earlier lack of oxygen. “Otherwise, I’m fine.” I slid my glasses back to their home above my nose, frowning at the cracks running through the glass, impairing my already horrible vision further.
“Good to hear,” Phil chuckled, slapping me from the back and almost knocking me to the ground, had Keith not been holding onto me at that moment in time. The blonde shot the athletics coach a dark look, before swiping his hunting rifle back from the athletics coach.
“The Smoker’s not going to come back, will he?” I spluttered, feeling a little dizzy from the strong man’s assault. Emma shook her head, holding her gun at the ready in a form of determined stance.
“If he does, we’ll blast his brains out with bullets,” She grinned at me, reassuring everyone of their safety. The four of us laughed and continued on our pained way down the road, my mind still flicking back to one panicky thought.

Was I really immune?

The newly formed claws adorning my finger tips seemed to suggest otherwise.
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RabidSponge
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