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IT BY MIMIC- THEY AMAZING

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You never felt deader.

Despite being at the hospital- despite being this close to freedom- any sort of joy you would have been feeling was zapped from your body.

It was you who forced the group to wait until the horde left.

It was you who had to see if he was still around.

You God damn checked to see if he had somehow still lingered. But no.

Whatever blood fueled rage he had gone into- he hadn't come out of. Swept away with the winds of wrath and hunger.

You nearly sobbed when all you saw were empty, red soaked streets- filled with lifeless pale bodies- none of which belonged to your hunter- which was equally a relief and a disappointment.

If you had found a dead body- at least you would have closure, however sad you would have been. Instead he was out there somewhere- and you felt so uncertain and scared. There was hope, which was crueler then grief, because hope dragged out the time in which you could berate yourself.

You stood outside- in the cold and bloody street. The group stayed with you comforting you as long as they could- even with their own freedom so close.

Eventually- even they couldn't stick around-

However much they tried to persuade you to keep moving forward-

However much nudging, and sweet talking, and urgency they spoke to you with-

You couldn't be moved.

An unshakable rock- formed from the malignant and ill disposed attachment you cemented onto that hunter.

The group left.

More importantly, HE left... and you forced yourself to harden- numbing yourself dangerously so.

Nothing mattered. Not without him. Not without your friend- your companion- your lifeline.

It took a few minutes of being alone until you moved your frozen legs. Your joints squeaked, and your heart throbbed beneath your chest.

With an assurance you were never more confident about, you decided that this sucked.

First your split up from your family- then you loose your friend- and then you loose the very same friend... again.

Huffing, you stopped your moving legs as you reached a dull chain. Broken, by the force of his jump, and out of habit you felt and scratched along your arm- as if to tighten it. But it wasn't there.

Looking closer, you noticed where you cinched and tied part of his harness. One of the ties had been broken, again, by the force of his jump.

You took a deep breathe.

Maybe you could find which direction he went in.

Glancing around- past guts and gore, you tried to pick out a trail. Something anything-

Scratches on a building that he might have climbed- blood leading away from the crime scene- hand prints from his incessant crawling.

You searched- and searched-

Scowering every last inch of that street before you caught the slightest clue of where he could have remotely wandered off to.

Just on the edge of the street- turning into the alleyway, small puddles of blood- and deeply set claw marks were imprinted on the ground like beacons to your weary eyes.

A single infected was laying on the ground, madly clawed- missing chunks a flesh and just barely still trying to reach for you.

The blood and claw marks reached over a metal fence- and with a huff, you threw your gun over the top, carelessly hoisting your body over after it.

The second your feet touched the ground, you snatched your gun up and kept following the slightest of clues you could.

So many twists and turns- a winding path that never seemed to find an end. Bodies were left in its wake- gore as common as the pebbles of the earth.

He was dangerous.

You always knew he was.

And yet this path of carnage- however many chills passed your spine- however much the small and fleeting instinct in your mind told you to run-

You followed after it.

No questions.

No qualms.

Just the patterned set of your footsteps against the ground.

You swore you'd find him.

_________

Harder said then done.

The trail had eventually just died out. No traces, no blood, and no bodies.

Most importantly, no Christian.

If you can even call him that anymore.

You can't remember how long you were meandering along in circles, sneaking past stray infected- killing when you needed.

The concrete grounds were becoming irritatingly familiar the longer you walked them, until out of frustration, you stopped following the same repetitive clues, simply walking out into the unknown.

The helicopter circling the city would pass every once and awhile- which meant the group hadn't made it yet.

You don't know whether to be relieved that you still have a chance, or sad that they haven't safely made it out of the city yet.

Regardless, you weren't attempting to reach them until you found him.

Seconds ticked on- a new side walk- a new slue of pebbles.

Something new happened.

Newer then the road.

Newer then the cars.

A noise- silent, and near indistinguishable against the white noise of the streets.

A scraping noise.

Like claws against cement.

You had hope- that perhaps the scraping noise was your hunter- but after several more minutes of consistent scraping as you walked the streets- you decided to blame it on your grieving head.

Of course you'd imagine you were hearing him crawling- slinking about as usual.

It persisted- farther and farther into your walk.

Eventually you couldn't take it- whipping around to see if you could catch a glimpse of something you knew it couldn't possible be.

Instead, your eyes caught an outline of something- hanging about on the rooftops, dipping out of view the moment you spotted it.

Three possibilities popped  into mind.

One, it's your companion- still strange because of the kill command. It's a hopeful and naive and stupid thought, yet the best possible outcome.

Two, you're grieving and just hallucinating shapes and sounds. Sounds likely enough.

Three. It's an infected. Special infected the worst option.

Alone, and without an extra set of eyes, you were a sitting duck. If you got caught- by anything- you wouldn't have any hope.

You couldn't help but grumble. Whatever it was up there- whoever was up there, was yet another uncertainty to add to your growing list.

Glaring one last time at the offensive building, you strutted off, determined in your search to find your friend.

You couldn't help but wonder if he thought about you. Did he wonder where you were? Did he actually have enough cognitive thought to wish you were there?

Striding around yet another alleyway, the consistent scratching noise above followed- and finally- you could say with surety that you weren't hallucinating.

Another glance upwards and you caught the edges of a hoodie slinking out of sight.

....

You couldn't tell if it was him or not. Too quick of a glimmer, too fast of a glance.

It couldn't be though.

Maybe it could be.

Huffing, you picked up pace again, turning onto another street. The scratching followed, briefly pausing before picking up on the building closest to you.

Oh gosh dammit.

Not pausing, you kept a brisk pace, listening to the noise above you.

A growl ripped through the air, passively and smoothly shaking you. It wasn't that loud- wasn't that quiet. Just enough to solidify any more questions about what was following you.

Great.

A hunter.

Maybe not even your hunter.

Turning around, you looked to where the growl came from.

Finally enough hoodie showing to let you know who it was.

Definitely not your friend.

It wore a completely grey hoodie- no blue hues in sight. The small pattern in the center only solidified it wasn't him.

Strange that he's revealing himself now.

With a small thought- you remembered that yes, you had a gun. And yes, you should probably shoot.

Another glance up at him and you realized that oh. He looks like he's about to pounce.

You didn't need another thought to immediately raise your gun- giving a good spray of bullets- which he dodged and continued to keep his body pressed in a jump and kill pose.

Not a moment later, he flung himself off the building, directly towards you- a loud and piercing screech flung out of his teeth lined mouth.

You've had more then a few tango's with a hunter, and with executed precision, you dodged, looked at where he was crouched. The bleeding in his calf told you that not all of your bullets missed him- and you barely got another thought in when he sprung up again.

Just as before, you sidestepped him, watching him skid on the ground before raising your gun and giving another good spray of bullets.

He almost did a cartwheel with how fast he sprang to the side- like a cat and a cucumber he just barely missed several shots to the head and chest.

Not stopping from his initial jump, he boosted himself toward the building, hitting the side and immediately using it to jet boost himself toward you.

Admittedly, you were impressed he had some tricks up his sleeve.

But with yet another dodge of his attack- and him proceeding to dodge your bullets- you decided to leave this mess of a fight.

Giving another couple shots in his direction- you heard a yelp and immediately took off down the alleyway you came out of.

It didn't take long for a faster and much more loud scratching noise to begin, following your running with ease- despite the very clear limp in the footsteps and clawing.

Ducking and dodging down alleyways that looked very familiar, you knew it was back towards mercy hospital- only going this way out of the fact that having knowledge of what was there would give you an advantage.

That- or if you ran far enough- his blood loss would eventually deal him in.

You ran and ran, farther and farther until you could barely keep moving.

With a hefty clunk of your boot, you flipped yourself around to scower the buildings for that estranged hunter. Your breaths were heavy.

Sure enough, he had just finished jumping from one building to the next, landing and giving you a poignant stare. The blood lust on him was insatiable- all but seeping off of him and sending a chill down your spine.

A faint and angry roaring was heard in the distance- loud and angry huffing that you tuned out to focus all your attention on the grey figure.

Any moment and he would jump. Any moment and you would shoot.

Deeply inhaling, you exhaled as calmly as you could, giving him your hardened stare- a brash look filled with the malice you harbored inside of you. He flared his nose in a loud chuff, indignantly clenching the building's roof tighter. So tight that the claws scraped an indent into the concrete of the building.

You couldn't be bothered by the fact that he chose to play into your stare down. Neither by that angry huffing that got louder and louder from some distance behind you.

Instead, you lifted your gun, shooting and watching as he leaped off and into the alleyway before you. He sat, crouched a good few feet away from you, haunches tense.

He didn't pounce directly at you- which was strange- but the suspicion you felt in his stare made you believe he thought you were planning something.

Lowering your gun, you stared. He stared back.

But he couldn't find it in himself to come to any sort of truce. Just a blood fueled want and rage- pushing him onward as he pushed his nimble body up into the air and directly at you.

Wow.

He actually fell for it.