Infected Are Changing Part 2

"Hunta!" The smoker repeated. The hunter in front of him tilted his head towards a certain area.

"Srrrirs. Srrrrvvv.."

The smoker blinked. "Hhat? Whhhtt?" He growled.

The hunter snorted. "Srrvviiivvrrr.. ovvv thhhrrr."

The smoker held up a hand and pointed in the direction the hunter seemed to be talking about. The hunter gave a swift nod.

"Ohh.." He growled.

The infection had ruined his sense of smell, so it was harder than one would think to smell, even though he could breath through it. He walked with a limp over to the hill. The hunter suddenly jumped in front of him, shaking his head and lowering his body. The smoker scowled and crouched down. The hunter gave a nod and dropped flat on his belly. The smoker copied and the hunter nodded and started to crawl to an area where they could see the survivors, His sore red eyes peeked over the hill, and his mouth started to water as he spotted the survivors. The hunter started to crawl over to one of the buildings, and crawled up the side, the smoker, for no reason, quickly following behind him. His hand latched on to the wall like a spider as he pulled himself up, glad there were no nails for his tongue to catch on to. He coughed and the hunter shot him a look. He stared at him and shrugged. The survivors were so fucking close. He could taste it, but yes, something in his head warned him not to shoot off his tongue. He'd get gunned down in a second. He was already suprised the survivors weren't shooting him down for coughing so often.

Once the two reached the edge of the masion-like house, he shot his head up at the jump down. The mall was close. Very close, as were the four very delicious figures. He jumped to the ground, as did the hunter, and the two continued on their way. He let out a huge cough, and one of the survivors stopped looking back. The smoker looked around, and dove for a tree, just barely hiding himself. The hunter climbed the tree. He heard the footsteps grow closer. A loud gurgle sounded, and a huge wave of puke covered the survivor. Screams went through the air, not belonging to the hunter. Infected swarmed over the man, and gunshots sounded out. The smoker bolted for the abandoned farm, as did the hunter.

He climbed the ladder, and rested at the top of the barn. He panted and the hunter growled. The smoker emitted a nervous noise.

"Ahhaha.."

Was that a laugh? Probably. The hunter was probably rolled his eyes at him. A squeak rung past his ears, and his tongue shot out. Instinct. As he dragged it effortlessly, he had caught two rats. As he picked them both up, he offered one to the hunter, who was staring out the doors of the barn. The hunter took it, and let out a grunt of thanks as it was quickly shoved down its throat. The smoker blinked at him, and ripped apart the vermin and shoved it down it's mouth, swallowing without chewing.

As night fell, the smoker jumped off the ledge, followed by the hunter. Night was when the two chose to hunt, due to the sense that were growing in their brains. His sense of smell was bad, due to the swelling on his face, but his sense of taste made up for it. Literally. He could taste the air. And his hearing was good. His vision wasn't that great. As for the hunter? Well jeez, he didn't know. He suddenly froze, holding up a bubbled hand to the hunter, who stopped as well. Sniffling. Crying. A witch. Even the infected knew better then to startle her, even though she sat and sobbed at night. But it got closer. And closer.. And closer.. And clos- something bumped into him. He let out a cough of alarm, and whipped around, hands flailing. Something clawed across his face.

"Ahrh!" He snarled as yellowish green liquid poured from the wound. He finally got a glimpse.

"Wtch wrr yr gon frek.." The witch snarled, continuing on her way.

As the witch stumbled past, stopping her grumbling and started to sob again.

And suddenly something laughed behind him. He growled and turned around, looking at the hunter doubled over before him and laughing. He shot out his tongue, which wrapped around his neck, choking him. The hunter stopped laughing a gagged. He let go, pleased with himself. The hunter gave him a glare, and the smoker returned it.

The two ignored that situation.

They abandoned the barn, and continued on their way, traveling past sleeping groups of zombies, witches, and jockeys which were normally curled up against a charger for an odd reason. Quality bonding time? Who knew. Who cared. The hunter had caught more mice for food, and they stopped in front of a random trailer.

"Uhhnn.." The hunter stammered, going on his two feet and looking inside. There were four curled up survivors.

The smoker tried opening the door slowly, but it didn't work. He would have stuck his tongue inside, but he could play out what would happen.

He would stick his tongue inside, alert one of the survivors, wake them up as he tried to dragon and choke them against the door. He would yell, the three other survivors waking, opening the door, the hunter pouncing, the two shooting them, shoot the hunter off, kill him, and three guns pointed at him and shooting.

Yeah, not well. Not well at all. As the hunter got ready to scream, he slapped his hand over his mouth, and shook his head. The hunter frowned. The two continued on their way. As if something from his life before the infection sparked in his mind, he fought back the childish urge to go back there, stick his tongue in there and steal one of the guys' hats. That would've been funny. To him, mabye.

As he walked, he almost tripped over the spitter who was sleeping on the ground. She raised her head, her eyes actually looking somewhat innocent in the night.

"Sssshhmmmkkkurr.. Hunnshterrr.." She gurgled.

"Spitttuuurrr.." He coughed.

"Spaaaturr." The hunter growled.