Our horde spilled into the city like a flood. Our prey ran with heavy steps and panting breaths. These were the sounds of food, the trails they left for us to follow. Here and there, small packs broke from the horde to give chase down alleys and into buildings, like blind fingers hunting for the very last cookie in a jar. We were one being, and though one or two or twenty might be brought down, they are soon replaced. We are strong, we feel no pain, we are invincible.
We chased the fleeing sounds down an alleyway. A deafening boom and one of our numbers is slowed but not stopped for pain is no longer a deterrent. Another boom and one of ours drops from the horde. No loss for we are many. We continue forward to our prey now scurrying out of the sunlight. More noises, more of us disappear. We pay no heed for The Hunger drives us all. It is that which gives the horde meaning, purpose. Finally hands are placed upon the prey but our teeth cannot find flesh. It struggles, holding us back and denying us our prize. It matters not as its strength will inevitably wane and soon we shall satisfy The Hunger.
We feel a pressure clenching at my arm. I look down to find a sensation like I haven't felt in a lifetime. A shockwave of agony radiates throughout my body, forcing me away from our prey and onto the wooden floorboards.
Suddenly, I'm awake again, my heart pounding in my chest. I gasp as air stings through pathways left too long unused. My eyes blink, bringing the world into focus. A man stands above me, his hands moving, connecting two items together. It takes another moment for my brain to work out the puzzle before me. I raise my arms as the other man points the reloaded gun at my face. I shut my eyes and try to tell him to stop but the only noise I can make is a wheezing sound.
The bullet doesn't come. Instead, something wet splashes on my face. A small drop of blood. A deep bite mark cut into my skin. A piece of dead flesh hanging from the lip of the other man.
"What's going on, zombie? Are you human again?" the man with the gun says wiping away the dead skin with one hand while his other keeps the gun trained on me as if expecting us, no, me, me to lunge hungrily at him.
I stare back, no longer connected to the horde, no longer driven by The Hunger. My throat and mouth still not used to forming words, I just nod. The gun still trained on me, I'm terrified. Depending on the bullet's trajectory, much more than simply death awaits me. He grabs an arm and pulls me to a pipe running vertically through the wall of the room. A cuff goes around my wrist, and another anchors me to the pipe. The man stares at the bite mark on my arm, then touches his mouth. "I'm not sure what is going on, but I need you to stay here until I can sort this out."
Alone in the apartment, the night settles across the city. Silence dominates the room but outside it was punctuated by unsettling sounds. The howls and screams of stray cats and dogs roaming the streets. Crashes and bangs the sounds of humans doing their best to survive the apocalypse around them. Worst of all, the shuffling footstep, origins unknowable from my spot in the room. Whether they belonged to other zombies or other humans, either presented a threat to me. No longer part of the horde, The Hunger would set my former kin against me. Other humans, already untrustworthy in my life before joining the horde, should be treated with more suspicion in this new world.
I sat tense, waiting in the darkness, unable to find either peace or sleep. Images of my previous life floated through my mind: shambling after other humans, my hands tightening, my mouth filled with their meat, screams unheeded now piercing my ears. Through it all though, was the feeling of safety. There were no secrets, no deceptions, no betrayals within the horde, all of us driven similarly by The Hunger. We were one.
The morning light made it halfway across the room before the man returned. As the door creaked open, my body jumped and was immediately yanked back down my the anchoring pipe. "Looks like you're still human." The man tossed me a bottle of water which I guzzled down greedily. Though a human's needs weren't as strong or driving as The Hunger, I still found them formidable, devouring the canned meat thrown to me next. "I haven't had any luck cornering another zombie to see if biting it might turn it human too. And I haven't told anyone about you yet. If they think that just biting all the zombies will turn everyone back, it'll cause a riot. I just need more answers first."
I nodded along in agreement, too scared still to leave the room much less meet with other humans. Who knows what they'll think of a zombie turned human. Maybe they'd rather have revenge for those we'd, I'd probably eaten rather then answers. No, isolation was the safe play.
Our arrangement continued like this a while: I stayed hidden and he'd continue to bring me supplies, sometimes daily or sometimes with enough food and water to last for days when he knew he wouldn't be able to sneak away. At night, the images of what I'd done would come back to me, and I'd sleep in the memories. Soon though the noises outside changed from merely ambling footsteps to the distinct and constant chattering of teeth. The horde roamed the city, no longer sweeping through en masse but spreading over it, through it like a puddle seeping wherever it could go, hunting for food.
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