The Strain's Hold

"Listen, I can't blame you Rob... but it's inhumane!"

"For fuck's sake Carol what else do you want me to do?"

"Just don't make it quick for him."

"Why wouldn't I? Have you ever seen me disrespect the troops?"

It has been three weeks since the quarantine and three weeks since Rob has held the soldier in captivity. All he wanted was answers. Answers to questions like... "Why are we quarantined?" "Why are there bodies rotting in the streets?" "Why do we have to stay inside when the threat of infection is gone after the host dies?" "Did I ask you why the fuck we are in a quarantine?"

The fact is that 80% of the population of North Brookfield Massachussetts died of the "Susteren's Strain". What would kill even more people, and subsequently be the real reason behind the quarantine, would be the cause of death for even more people.

In the middle of the soldiers last "interrogation", right before Rob would shoot him, there came a knock at the door. However it was less of a knock, this was peculiar, it was more of a slam. Looking through the peep hole what rob saw would scar him for life. The rotting face of his... "former" neighbor looks right back at him. "Then CRACK, a hand comes straight through wooden door. CRACK another, and another, it was fucking horrible".

The next thing he had known, the soldier had seen Rob on ground squealing in pain. Upon breaking free, the soldier took a look at the cause of Rob's pain. Two huge chunks of flesh were missing from Rob's arm. Knowing very well what the hell was going on, the soldier was searching desperately for his "m16... or his pistol... anything quite frankly."

It wasn't long before he was all alone...on the streets just trying to stay out of site. Screams were beginning to fill the town as the "undead sons-of-bitches" broke into the homes of oblivious owners. The soldier had one goal... to get out of the quarantine zone. The top of Bennett's Hill was the safest bet. The one problem... "shitloads of woodland. Plenty of space for those fuckers to lurk."

On the move and scared beyond belief, nothing got better when he felt a tug on his boot. The only thing he could see of it was the "rotting face about ready to take a nom on my ass. And the moan, that damned moan! I took a shot and, if I may say so, was a damn near perfect headshot. That was a mistake though." The next thing he knew were dozens of shuffling corpses heading straight for him. The only thing he could do was run and make occasion shots at them. The rest of the night was quiet, as the rest of the survivors would have been devoured by now. At least that is what the soldier had thought. The surprise of his life was when a little girl ran right into him at around midnight. This was bitter-sweet however as he was happy to see someone, anyone alive. But the thing that would end up killing him made itself clear about an hour later.

Taking quick refuge in the loft of an abandoned barn... he had noticed the bite mark on the little girl's calf. "She couldn't have been more than six years old. I knew that doing what I knew I had to do would kill me inside." While she was sleeping, the soldier aimed at her head, said a quick prayer, begged forgiveness on her part, and took the shot. The moans again.

Once again back on the move and once again out of sight, he knew that he was almost at Bennett's Hill. He could also tell by which direction the moans would be coming from, that there would be countless "zed heads". After a lot of running and reloading, he was finally out of the quarantine.

The suicide note said: "I didn't know her name, but God forgive me I had to do it."

CNN News Online.