“Damn it.”

The soldier muttered. He’d found himself trapped, injured and slumped against the wall in a storeroom, that smelled like a toilet. His eyes fixed onto the only door, someone banged on the other side.

“Piss off!” yelled Private Like.

James picked up his rifle which he’d laid on the floor next to him. Popping the clip and surveying the contents grimly. Just fifteen bullets left. His thoughts disturbed by some more banging on the door.

“Dumb shits!”

Private Like slammed the clip back into the rifle, aiming carefully at the door. He’d have given anything to let off a few rounds. But he needed to conserve his ammo; beyond that door was the rest of the enemy army barracks. His unit that had took over the base, were all dead.

“Bastards!”

He didn’t know why he kept cursing them, as the people outside didn’t understand anymore. The infected villagers had increased in number, but the real danger came from within. No-one knew enough about what caused the infection. Then when they did they didn’t accept it. Even as their fallen comrades came bursting from their makeshift morgue. Even as men they used to call friends, reached out and snuffed out their lives consuming them in a fury of teeth and nails.

A sharp pain shot through his right leg. James glanced down, his green eyes settling on the bandage on his shin. The dressing was already turning red. The injury was a minor one, one of his rivals; a gunner called Thomas had taken a chunk out of it. Normally he’d have taken better care of it. But this time, it was no use. He knew that he’d been infected, seeing his friends who had been bitten attack him, had opened his eyes.

He slid a shaky hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to reveal a picture of his daughter. He could only hope that this ‘horror’ stayed in Iraq.

Private Like put away his photo, before struggling to get to his feet. He had made a decision; he may become one of them. But he’d take out as many of them as he could. He limped towards the door, when a loud gunshot rang out. A survivor? James swung open the door, firing his rifle at the two closest villagers. They were knocked backwards letting him slip through. A second gunshot was heard, this time giving away it’s location;

“The Perch!”

James moved as fast as his body would let him. The infected that had spread out through the facility, were too slow to react to his presence. In just six minutes he’d reached the watchtower. However he was too late, the survivor was on his back, an infected soldier digging his nails into the dead man’s stomach.

“Buh bye.”

Private Like’s sarcastic tone was quickly followed by rifle fire. The infected slumped to the ground, half of its head missing. James dropped his now empty rifle, before limping towards the dead man. He looked at the two soldiers on the floor; the former survivor turned out to be Captain Queen, while his killer ended up being Marcus. Ironic James thought, as the Captain was forever telling the marksman to ‘Bite me’.