Title: Infected
Genre: Sci-Fi, Horror
POV: First Person, Journal style
Synopsis: Follows a group of super-human soldiers through a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
Word Count: ~1000

[-DATA INPUT BEGINS- DATED 18/09/3368-]
-DATA INPUT BEGINS- DATED 18/09/3368-

I'm not going to explain this war, how it started or why we're fighting it, because frankly I don't really know the details either.
Here's the deal: we're super soldiers, 'tainted since birth' and exceptionally strong. That would be fine if we weren't all society's rejects too, which I would find humorously ironic if I weren't battling demonic hellspawn 24/7.
All I know is, as a culture we used to believe in two gods, essentially darkness and light, but as our belief waned, so did the light's protection. Coincidentally, when I was a small lad, the 'boundaries' protecting our world from the darkness were naturally weakest, sort of like the point where the world is furthest from the sun. When this happened, I guess darkness sort of poked his fingers around in our world and messed things up. He (I use that loosely) corrupted people with what can only be described as a cancerous infection, sitting unnoted for decades, and us? He didn't notice us, but his touch tainted us, and now we fight off his cancer.
Now that I've put it that way, I know a lot about what's happened, but that's the past. In the present, I'm a soldier known as Prince of Evil, a member of squadron 4, currently patrolling sector 6b. My squadmates, the people I trust with my life every day, are: Red Dragon, a half-robotic cannibal; BFG, tallest man on the planet; Sabbath, voted most likely to start a cult; Hal, team leader and certified Red-sitter; and Iggy, whose original squadron was killed or infected.
Infected? I forgot to mention didn't I? We're battling against waves upon waves of cancerous zombie hell-beasts, if one of these things cuts your skin, you're more than likely infected. Speaking from experience, it's a horrible pain that wrecks you through and through.
That's why I'm writing this now. Two weeks ago I was bitten on the right shoulder in the midst of combat, while the wound was light, and immediately treated, my death contract had been signed. I'll not turn into one of those beasts, and I'll fight them for as long as I stand, and the day this infection takes me is the day my squadron takes my life.
I would have it no other way.
At the present moment in time, we're enjoying a rare moment of peace - even eating for once! Our last meal was before my infection, the squadron was a lot bigger then. We had a slice of stale bread each, though I recall having barely eating half before the biggest infected I'd laid my eyes on started snacking on Captain Howdy. Once we'd all jumped to arms the bastard dropped him, but it was too late for the Captain, he changed before our eyes, then we put him out of his misery. One day that'll be me, writhing on the floor as my flesh rots away and my bones crack into claws, my teeth replaced with jagged fangs, all control wrought from me in my final moments.
I try not to dwell on it, the large spine-like growths on my back are reminder enough of my torment without self-pity thrown in the mix. I'm currently the longest lasting infected that we know of, I should be proud of that.

-DATA INPUT INTERRUPTED-
-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 22/09/3368-

The last few days have been non-stop, but this poses little difference to every other week since this all started.
We've come across what looks like the remains of another squadron, and as all the remains appear to be uninfected, our best guess is mass suicide. I don't blame them.
Hal has been making a vigilant effort to record information for future scholars should this battle not be lost, and my best guess would be this is what I'm doing as well. My records might not be as precise, it might be littered with sidetracks, but this is as personal as it gets.
At this stage, I have 7 pointed protrusions coming from the exposed flesh of my right shoulderblade. The longest is over half an arm's length, however the rest would be as long as my hand at most. The spikes are extremely sensitive to touch, very strong and difficult to break (also agonisingly painful!), and have a texture between velvet and stone.
In combat they don't bother me too much, however they are a hassle whenever I get a chance to sleep.
I think my attitude towards my position has been bothering Iggy, he seems more uncomfortable about my infection since I've started this journal. It would be safe to guess the images of infected comrades still haunts him as they do the rest of us.

-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 25/09/3368-

Today marks three weeks infected.
We came upon a civilian crouched around her infected and changing son yesterday. Her son had no signs of injury, I can only guess that it is possible for some people to be immune to the infection, but carry it.
Perhaps the worst part of yesterday's incident was that her son had only been born two hours before- the umbilical cord was still attached.
Dutifully, we slew the boy before he became a beast, and we're now in the midst of taking this woman to safety.
Normally, we don't care, but I think there's something different about her.

-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 02/10/3368-

We are now in Sector 7, which had been previously cleared as safe, but now appears to be more overrun by infected than where we had been before. It's going to take us some time to get her to a safe zone, I can only hope she makes it that long.
It has been a full month since my infection,

-DATA INPUT INTERRUPTED-
-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 09/10/3368-

The hordes are beginning to clear out the further through Sector 7b we travel, there should be a safe zone a few days walk from now.
I am not tired from the travel, but this woman isn't like us, she has to rest much more frequently. If we were without her we'd be faster, but it doesn't matter.
The infected in this area are surprisingly different to those in Sector 6, and I wonder if it's possible that there are mutations occurring.
I hear noises in the distance, there's no time to update on my own infection.

-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 10/10/3368-

Longest spine hasn't grown at all, shorter growths are slightly longer than hands length. Two other spines have shown up, curved and each as long and thick as a finger.

-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 16/10/3368-

We're on our way back to Sector 6 now, but we've also been tasked with clearing out Sector 7 on our way.
Hal's log is still a lot more informative than mine. I hope I make it into some kind of scientific journal.

-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 20/10/3368-

We made an important discovery today. The infection feeds on negative thoughts and emotions. As long as I remain optimistic I may never fall prey to its control.

-DATA INPUT CEASED-

-DATA INPUT RESUME- DATED 30/10/3368-

Large wave on the approach. Sector 7 was a lot quieter when we returned, I can only hope another squad passed through.
Red has been missing all day, Hal went to look for him two hours ago, but

-DATA INPUT INTERRUPTED-

-DATA CORRUPTED
...
BEGINNING RECOVERY
...
...
...
-AUDITORY DATA INPUT - DATE UNKNOWN-

Here lies the Prince of Evil, who after two months of living with the infection, died fighting as every brave soldier hopes to.
We'll see you on the other side, Prince.

-END DATA INPUT-

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