The Virus Within: Third Wave (Book 2)

Chapter 64

As the stars shone overhead, I carefully approached the barn with the Runner. I'd noticed the daily scent trails earlier and had assumed people were just making sure the creature inside hadn't gotten loose, but the conversation I overheard painted a different picture.

I peered through a window to see what I would be dealing with. In one corner, a cage made from wooden two-by-fours contained a red-eyed zombie. There was a plastic chair by the door, but otherwise, the room was empty. I didn't see any microphones or cameras from here.

The door opened smoothly, with just the faintest creak. I looked around intently before stepping through the doorway. Once I was certain no cameras or microphones were present, I relaxed marginally.

The Runner growled at me, striking the sturdy wooden posts confining it. They vibrated, but other than losing a few slivers of wood, were unaffected. I examined the zombie, who – as far as I could tell – looked and acted just like every other feral I'd encountered.

I dropped into a crouch and snarled lightly at it, letting my eyes flash in warning. The Runner backed up a few steps and fell silent when it realized I wasn't human.

I took another step closer and considered the zombie in front of me. This was a situation Luke or another sane Runner could end up in. It strongly reminded me of when I'd woken up after being shot by bandits.

From what I'd heard from other sane zombies, the theory behind it was the same: if a zombie hadn't eaten raw meat, human flesh, or drank human blood, then the human mind within was still present, even if they were a snarling mess that resembled a feral.

I sniffed the air, but no scent of blood was present. If he hadn't been drinking animal blood, his bloodlust would be so unmanageable it'd force the human mind into dormancy while the body just ran on instinct.

The bloodlust was the primary issue, and I knew of only one cure for that. I could probably help this Runner, but I was going to have to be very careful how I went about it...

~

       I set the bucket of deer blood on the floor and pulled out a hard plastic cup that I'd found in an abandoned house. I filled the cup no more than a quarter full and put it inside the wooden bars.

The Runner backed up as I approached, but when I didn't snarl, the lure of fresh blood brought him forward. Runners might not like sharing kills, but if I didn't drive him away, his Runner persistence would push him to see how close he could get, especially with the bloodlust driving him on.

I made a face as he grabbed the cup and tried biting it. Some of the blood sloshed up, and he realized there was liquid inside. He twisted his head and the cup, and the contents spilled over his face and dripped onto his clothing and the floor. He attempted to lick the cup clean.

I swiftly reached through the bars and snatched the cup from his hands. He snarled at me, but my growl shut him up. Once again, I filled it less than quarter full and put it back inside. This time, it took him almost a minute to approach. I was glad I hadn't put much blood in the cup since most of it ended up on the floor.

I continued the process.

Feral Runners might be slow to catch on, but they weren't stupid. They could learn and adapt. By the fifth attempt, he had figured out the cup wasn't edible, but the stuff inside was. He still slopped a lot, but only about half was hitting the floor now.

I poured the last of the blood into the cup and went to track down another large animal. It took me only minutes to locate a deer. I bled it out and left it hanging in a tree since the humans were bound to come this way tomorrow. I glanced at the sky as I headed back, but I still had at least two hours until sunrise.