The Aire Virus

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"There's... there's so many of them," a young, emaciated male spoke softly, insecurity making his voice tremble. He was in a used-to-be hotel, boarded up to perfection. There was no light in the house, except the small scrack between the wood of the window he was looking through.

He saw all of the others shambling around through the streets from his perch, and it terrified him. "C-Calm yourself, Spirit." He said to himself, hiding his soft, hazel eyes behind his modified hands.
 
Behind the bed, Jason heard the sound of the bedroom door open. "Damn it." He whispered to himself. He got the pipe ready as best as he can, just in case someone found and attacked him.
 
"Really...?This isn't some trick is it?" He eyed the girl up and down. He lowered his hands and approached her slowly. "This goes against all common sense...Fine...I'll follow you." He looked around to see if there were any snipers. Though he doubted they'd waste ammo on him, but then again there were crazy people in this god forsaken world.
 
Corrie shrugged and started off back in the direction of the house, keeping close to the shadows. "There aren't many of us left, y'know. No sense in letting more die when I can prevent it." She picked up the pace slightly, her fingers tightening around her knife. "Now hurry up and stop looking so much like a slow moving target."
 
"Yeah, yeah...I still don't trust you." He picked up the pace as well but, the pain caused him to continue to walk slowly. "Why are you even helping me? There's nothing in it for you, and you're wasting supplies on some stranger."
 
Corrie sighed, rolling back her shoulders. "I told you already. There aren't many of us left." She left it at that. After a moment they made it, finally, to the house, which she unlocked quickly and stepped inside. It wasn't much to look at- a small, two bedroom house with every window boarded up, a single, dank lightbulb illuminating what used to be the living room. All of her things were packed in two bags, in case she needed to leave quickly. The small girl motioned unceremoniously towards a slightly beat up couch. "Sit."
 
"Still a stupid move", he muttered. He walked inside and looked around and sat. She was bossy but she was his only chance of living. "You live alone? That's a
feat. How old are you, like, 12?"
 
Once he was in the door, Corrie shut and locked it, pushing her makeshift barricade of a dresser against it. She turned back to the boy just as he asked how old she was, and her blue eyes immediately narrowed. 12? She glanced down at herself, from the heavy combat boots to tight fitting tank top and leather jacket, and back to him. "Eighteen." She responded coldly. "The name's Corrie. Who are you?"
 
"Eighteen huh...I'm Ford. 20. I guess 12 was a bit of an exaggeration...Your body is more that of a 9 year old." Not caring about the consequences after saying that, he laid down. "You surviving just on that knife?"
 
Corrie tilted her head, taken aback for a moment. "Another off comment and it'll be just this knife that makes you stop surviving." She paused for a moment, shaking her head of blonde curls. "You do realize that you're dying on my couch and I have a weapon, right? You're not really in any position to be making comments like that." Before she could get herself worked up, however, Corrie turned to a bag sitting on a nearby table and started taking out various supplies. There wasn't much, but she figured cleaning up and bandaging his wounds would do.
 
"Yeah, I do know that. But at this point I don't care much." He closed his eyes. "Besides...She's probably long since dead. 3 years alone...Tch. Yeah right." He sat back up and looked at her. "So you really are gonna patch me up...Huh."
 
Spirit stood from the rugged bed he sat on and made his way closer to the window. It wasn't in his intentions to meet the others, but he definitely didn't want to be alone any longer.

There was a loud crash from one of the lower floors of the hotel; a sound that notified the male that someone - or something - had broken through his 'defenses'. Turning to the doorway that led outside his room, he pressed his back against the window, whimpering softly.
 
"I said I would, didn't I?" Corrie grabbed a clean cloth and dipped it in a nearby bucket of water, bringing it and the other few supplied towards Ford. She never had been one for small talk, so she quickly pulled a chair up beside the couch and sat down. "Now which one is worse?"
 
He pointed to the one on his side. "Here. Do the leg last." He kept his eye on the door. "How secure is this place?" He squinted at the door, and strained his ears.
 
"Not very." Corrie responded and leaned forward, working gently to pull the shirt up away from the wound. For such a hardened girl, she managed to work delicately and cause the least amount of pain possible. "But nothing now ever is. It's about as secure as you can get by yourself." When she had managed to move the shirt, she quickly surveyed the injury on his side. "This is going to hurt and I can't promise I won't kill you." She said in a quick rush of words, starting to gently clean the blood from around the wound.
 
Footsteps echoed through the hallways now. They were heavy, menacing, absolutely terrifying. Spirit shook, grabbing onto the wood that barricaded the window and began peeling it from its place. He was going to jump from the 3rd floor of the hotel; it couldn't posed that much of a danger.

"T-The people..." He stopped and thought to himself. Maybe they could help him from whatever was coming at him. He pulled the barricade off and leaned into the window sill, staring into the nothingness of the town. Spirit opened his mouth, preparing to yell.
 
"Agh...Geez...This never gets easier..." He laid his head back. "A cup of coffee would be great..." He lifted his pant leg and pulled his gun out and set it on the couch. "I guess I won't need to use it, huh?"
 
Corrie barely glanced at the gun, focusing completely on the task in front of her. "Really wouldn't make sense to shoot the person who's going to keep you from dying." She commented, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Looking down at her handiwork, she figured it was as good as done. The wound was clean, but she didn't have anything to stitch it with. "The best I can do is bandage it." She told him, and proceeded to do so with some clean strips of sheets.
 
"H-Help! P-People! Help!" Spirit yelled from the window at the top of his lungs, fear trailing in his cries for help. For four months he'd been isolated in this hotel, and it'd only been since the people had come around that his paranoia grew stronger. Maybe facing those people would make him feel better. Maybe... If he survived this.
 
"Mm. True." He stood up after she bandaged him and said, "I guess I'll go now." He grabbed his gun and put it back on his leg. "Thanks for that. Be careful." He patted her head and moved the barricade.athat's when he heard the screaming. "Oh...Another one bites the dust..."
 
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