This is the story of a world gone crazy, of blood and flesh thirsty creatures, and of the remnant of human beings left to fight them off. This is the story of Jason Hart, the one man who always seemed to know what was best for us to survive. This is the story of my life, and my love for him.
I was once a normal girl, just like everyone else. I was trying to get through college so I could get a good job, make a living, and then work on finding someone to marry. All of that changed the day I first ran into one of them.
I had spent my life loving vampire, werewolf and zombie stories. I used to think that I wanted the world to be like that, to be more interesting. Maybe this was my wish coming true? But this was nothing like the stories or the movies. There was no thrill of excitement, only fear. I wasn't some kick ass heroine, not unless I had to be. The only time I fought these creatures was when I had no choice. With these things, it was best to run, as fast as you could. The only reason to stop and fight was if you could save someone. This was rare and often I'd see people get taken for trying.
I guess I should elaborate on the actual creatures. One could call them zombies, but very loosely. They ate human flesh yes, at least some of them, but they weren't slow, and they could think. Others drank the blood, like vampires. But even these were not quite vampires, because they didn't have fangs or have to stay inside during the day or any of that. Some of the flesh eaters were wolf-like in appearance, but more in the glint of their eyes and cruel smiles than hair sprouting everywhere, and the moon's phases didn't affect them.
All in all the creatures were closest to zombies, but they were not dead. They just had developed at taste for humans. There were four different kinds that I was able to pick out. We, the survivors, call them Fleshies, Bloods, Wolves, and Counter. The fleshies were most common and most resembled the zombies you'd see in movies and such today. They were also most common and had several different types. The worst of the subsets of these were the ones that particularly liked baby flesh. I don't know if I'm the only one that thinks that but babies and kids shouldn't be eaten…ever.
Then there were the bloods. They would bite like vampires, but lack of sharp incisors made them tear the flesh. This was much harder to live through than fangs slicing into you, but death was usually more welcome than living. A bite from them would turn you into one of the creatures as well. I think the different kinds depend on the person bitten, rather than the person doing the biting. Because the fleshies ate the entire body, so either they can't transmit the disease or how they do it makes it impossible for the disease to control their victims. I'm not sure. I think it is the latter, because all other kinds transmit. I'd seen people bitten by bloods and become fleshies or wolves or counters.
The wolf-like ones were easiest to spot, but once you'd been spotted, you were pretty almost guaranteed to be a goner. As far as I know, only I and Jason had lived through a wolf attack. These ones are easiest to spot because they have yellow eyes and claws as opposed to fingernails. Of course these are hard to spot from a distance, but that gives you perspective on how hard it is to tell these creatures from normal people. Wolves for some reason choose someone who turns wolf. I think it's because they have a certain sense for people like them. And from what I could tell, they choose people like them because they choose mates. I will never be certain of this, because I can't study them up close. But the wolves travel in packs, like real wolves, and if you ever have the misfortune of seeing the same wolf pack twice, they usually gravitate toward a certain other member of the pack and no one goes to the same one. When the wolves aren't looking for a mate, it seems that the entire pack will share in the hunt and like the fleshies, they eat all of their prey, which is perhaps another reason they only turn wolves.
The worst of the creatures was the Counters. They look normal. There's no identifying features about them, unless you catch them muttering to themselves. They count, it's how they got their name. They count everything. I'm not sure why. Probably OCD when they were human, but I can't be sure. These creatures were most likely to infiltrate the remnant, if they could keep from counting out loud, which most could. These were hardest to get away from because they often waited for a time when you couldn't get away. They'd trap you. I once was in an elevator with three of them. But that's a story for later. The problem with the counters is that they could suppress their hunger till the opportune time (counting the entire time they did so). They were cunning.
The only person I knew who managed to outwit the counters was Jason Hart. He was my savior, and I loved him with all my heart, which is funny because of his last name. But maybe his heart was what made him great. He worked for the survival of the Remnant; he would die for any member if it would save their life. Which may just be the reason I loved him so much.