INFECTED (Click Your Poison) (55 page)

No, that’s not it, either. You’re bored… and kind of hungry. Yet the caviar and champagne holds no appeal for you. So used to getting what you want, you’re now crushed by concerns that there’s no longer anything worth wanting. Oscar Wilde once said, “There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.” Problem is, at this moment, you don’t know what you want.

Then Stacy comes out on the balcony. “We’re ready for you,” she says.

And now you know what you want—you’re ready
for her
. Stacy, your loyal assistant, looks ravishing. Before you even know what you’re doing, you lunge at her, ready to devour her every ounce of flesh. She doesn’t even have a chance.

Stacy falls back, with you still clawing and biting, through the glass doors and into the room. With a great clatter of designer windowpane and curtains, you sprawl into the suite. Everyone you invited looks on with horror at what the
Gilgazyme
 ® has made you; at the price of your immortality.

As your assistant bleeds out, your urges change. Once she falls limp, it’s only the fresh humanity before you that can slake your thirst. You amble toward the other guests, who scream in panic and shove one another out of the way in a selfish bid for survival. Hey, works for you. The anorexic-thin dates your male guests brought will serve as a nice appetizer, and in the calamity, they were nice enough to leave two such women behind.

Stacy may be gone, but she’s not forgotten. The
Gilgazyme
 ® that changed your genetic code is now frantically at work within her. Soon your assistant will be sticking to your side like it’s any normal day. Together, you’ll paint the town red.

The screams in the hallway beyond the open door of your room prove an irresistible dinner bell and you calmly walk toward them. People flee from the mere sight of you. You see some go into a stairwell, but running doesn’t much appeal to you anymore. The elevator, on the other hand, is a different story. Canned food? Yes, please. The doors begin to close, but you can’t run to catch the food cart; it’s almost like your feet are incased in concrete. Their eyes grow wide and they smash the “close door” button with frenzy. But you’re so incredibly excited, you begin to stumble toward them. It’s not quite a run, but it does the trick. You slip in just before the doors close. Stacy will have to take the stairs.

Oh boy, oh boy—sardines. You take a millisecond to enjoy what’s about to come, then you dive right in, ripping apart anyone you can touch. And they’ve got nowhere to go; it’s like eating fish in a barrel. It’s a long way down to “Lobby,” so your feasting is about as much as the undead could hope for. Blood and flesh, garnished with sweat and tears.

With a “ding,” you reach the lobby, and the doors pull open. All your victims cower on the floor; they’ve still got some life in them, but your curiosity gets the better of you. You turn around.

Casino security is waiting. Seeing your gore-smattered countenance and the victims quaking by your feet, they open fire. The first few shots just tickle. However, unfortunate as it is, one of the guards scores a shot just above your right eye. Right in the brain—you’re dead.

But don’t worry, your legacy will live on in the half-dozen survivors from the elevator. You see, you’ve infected them, and the six-hour incubation period will make tonight fun for the hospital staff at Las Vegas General.

THE END

Y
ou turn away from Deleon’s anguished cursing and follow Cooper down the hall. You can hear the doctor grunting and crawling as the undead growl and shuffle after him. Eventually, you don’t hear anything anymore, once you’re far enough away.

You enter the nurse’s office and Cooper starts rummaging through the supplies the group had previously stashed here. “You grab food, I’ll grab emergency supplies,” she says.

In less than a minute, you’re out of the office and on the move once more. Your arms are so full of foodstuffs, you’re constantly dropping canned supplies. Cooper does the same with her full load. Without incident, you make it to the roof access stairwell and up to the roof. One of the parcels Cooper drops prevents the roof door from fully closing, but neither of you notice.

“Goddamn, Sims,” Cooper says, looking at the siren and search lights.

“Maybe his plan worked?” you respond. “Rescue could be on the way.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. He said he contacted somebody, so now all we have to do is sit here and wait.”

“All he ever wanted to do in the first place,” you muse.

“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Newbie.”

Then the roof doorway opens. You turn back to see Deleon limply moving toward you. His color is washed out by the repeated blue and red light splashes, and it’s difficult to see how pale and dead he looks.

“You?” Cooper says in disbelief, walking toward him. “Your cure worked?”

The spotlight swings by and lights up Zombie Deleon. She sees he’s undead and takes out her crowbar. They meet in the middle; she raises her crowbar and swings it at his head. He catches her forearm and they both look at it. A look of panic crosses her face. The closest thing to a smile is on his face.

He pulls her to himself and bites down hard on the base of her neck. She screams. You rush to help, but it’s too late. The rest of the horde pours out of the stairwell and onto the roof. Trying to find a last, desperate escape, you run to the edge.

You can’t even see the ground, so thick is the pavement with undead. They come at you now, ready to feed on your flesh, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Your axe is no match for the two dozen—and more on their way. This is it, you will be devoured beneath the stars. Your blood will appear alternately clear and black beneath the red and blue strobe.

•
 
No it won’t! JUMP—head first.

•
 
Try to take one or two out before they eat you.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

S
ome time passes. You’re not sure how much, as time doesn’t mean much to the ageless, but it was dark and then it was light, and that pattern repeated itself for several iterations. Human beings are less frequently encountered and better armed than they were in the beginning… so that sucks.

But there goes one right now! Across the wet pavement, his boots hitting puddles and disrupting the reflected starlight as he runs. Apparently he thinks his shotgun will keep him safe while he goes out for food. Time to prove him wrong.

The local pantheon of immortals descends upon him, yourself included, elbowing their way through the gods and goddesses already tailing him. He slams against a door but finds it won’t budge. “Open the door, hurry up, goddammit!” he shouts as he pounds against it. “Open the fucking door!” His voice shrieks with strain.

Knowing this is the end, he turns back to face the crowd with his shotgun raised. You’re seventh in line. The immortals push forward and
BOOM!
the shotgun gives the first goddess’s face the firecracker-inside-the-pumpkin treatment. He slides back the pump action, feeds another shell into the breach, and blows away the next immortal.

He’s quick, and your compatriots drop to the pavement in less than a second each. One, two, three down. Only one more god between you and the human—oh boy, it’s almost your turn! He sprays the last immortal’s face all over yours, then pumps and levels the weapon at your forehead—
click
.

Has there ever been a more beautiful sound? He pumps once more, and once more:
click.
That’s one of the many great things about eating people, no reloading. You bring him down to the pavement, his writhing form directly atop the slain immortals, and others of the pantheon help you feed.

The rest of the crowd decides it’s only right to honor this man’s memory by bashing in the door and finding out exactly why he wanted in there. From the screams, it must’ve been his home base and he led the pantheon right to them. Unfortunately, jackpots like this one are increasingly hard to stumble across.

When everybody’s holed up and hiding, where’s a hungry immortal to go?

•
 
Shopping mall… I bet they’re all hiding there.