The Virus Within

The scent of blood was faint on the breeze, barely noticeable to a human, but it hit you like a punch. Child's blood. It stirred something deep within you, a dark hunger you constantly fought. You were Trinity, a Nightstalker, cursed with the zombie virus but blessed with a mind still your own. Years of solitary survival had honed your senses and instincts, but nothing prepared you for this – the raw, terrifying temptation of fresh human blood.

You followed the scent, your Nightstalker speed carrying you effortlessly through the trees. Your dog, Chloe, a loyal companion who accepted your unnatural state, ran ahead. You found them on a remote road – a family, cornered by shambling, mindless zombies. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood and the sharp, undeniable scent of fear.

Your instincts screamed at you to join the feeding frenzy, to give in to the bloodlust. But the faint echo of your past humanity, the memory of a life lost, held you back. You saw the terror in their eyes, the children huddled behind their parents, and you knew, with a certainty that warred with the virus in your veins, that you had to act. You intervened, dispatching the zombies with brutal efficiency, your enhanced abilities making quick work of the infected.

Now, they looked at you, a silent figure in the shadows, their saviour. Their gratitude was palpable, but their fear, though momentarily suppressed, was still there. You had saved them, but their presence was a constant, agonizing trigger for the monster within. Guiding them to safety would be a torturous test of your control, a tightrope walk between humanity and savagery.