Oh no.

This couldn't be happening...

Not now, after things had been going fairly well for the past few months!

It made Cameron angry. Why did the world have to be this way, so cruel and unforgiving? Why couldn't they just stay in peace for once, instead of constantly being attacked?

He turned around, his mind racing.

The crank gave another chuckle, and mumbled incoherently. His clothes were torn and dirty, gashes and scrapes littering his grey skin. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, seeming to stare into nothing. This was a real person once, maybe with a home, a family. His sanity, taken away from him. With just one event. Just one bite, one scratch. That's all it take for me to end up like that. A crank. Shuddering slightly, Cameron found that he almost felt sorry for him... er, it.

Until it attacked him.

The crank leaped on him, laughing maniacally, and he fought desperately to defend himself from its snapping jaws. He picked up a rock and smashed it into the crank's forehead, which gave him some time to escape it's grasp.

Cameron scanned the ground desperately and saw a thick, dead piece of wood a few metres to his left. He dove for it as the crank stood back up, regaining it's bearings.

Scrambling to his feet, Cameron swung the piece of wood around him as he turned, expecting to hit the crank.

There was a faint swoosh as it flew though empty air.

What?

Where?

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his leg, and looked back to see the crank chomping down on him. Waves of agony ripped through his leg, sending messages of panic to his brain.

As if I'm just another meal! He thought indignantly before he bring the wood down on the crank's head, knocking it out.

He stood there for a minute, panting and staring down at the dead crank in disbelief.

I... I actually killed one, alone...

He had fought cranks before, but always with the aid of somebody.

Attempting to calm down, Cameron dumped the limp body in the river, then stuck his leg in to rinse it off. The water was only slightly less filthy than his wound, but it took away the stinging.

Now, he had an even bigger problem. The crank had bit him, so he was now infected with the Flare virus.

His day just kept on getting better.

Glancing around nervously, he limped back to the building and barred himself in the supply room. He searched the rickety shelves for a first aid kit, and found one after digging through some old blankets. He breifly wondered why they even had the blankets. It wasn't like they'd need them any time soon.

Cameron sat on a nearby chair, worn with age, and propped his leg on one of the shelves.

What now? He furrowed his eyebrows as he poured antiseptic over the wound. He didn't want to become a crank... But he couldn't tell anyone, he'd be locked up, or killed.

He wrapped his leg in gauze and pulled his pants leg over it, hiding the now-bandaged wound. He desperately hoped that nobody had seen what had happened. Standing up, he wondered how long it would take for him to become a crank. Another survivor in their group had been infected, bitten in the arm, and it had taken mere days for her to lose all traces of her sanity. She was chained to a tree after the group found out that she had caught the Flare. Karl had eventually been forced to shoot her when she had started carving names into her skin with a stick and raving about how she would kill them all.

Cameron had been one of the people she chose. Apparently, his limbs were to be chained to two different cars, which would then speed in opposite directions. Lovely.

Her name had been Alison.

Cameron found a morsel of relief in the fact that the wound was on his leg. He would probably have more time than Alison, as the site of infection was farther away from his brain. But how much longer? How much longer before he lost his mind?

Standing up, he sighed. He'd just have to wait.