Day 56 (Six months after Patient Zero)

I'm alive.

I'm not one of them.

I'm not one of them.

I'M NOT ONE OF THEM.

I suppose that's a given, seeing as how I'm typing and am quite sane. I don't understand... The bite, it never festered, never... Never infected. I don't... I don't understand. I believe I... I believe I mutated, to a degree. My skin is pale, my nails... Well, I won't go into the nails just yet. I feel so... Energetic, like a constantly coiled spring. The sight of people makes me hungry. I saw them a few days ago. Two of them. A woman and a child. The child was so much younger than I... Staring, uncomprehendingly, wondering what had happened to the world she knew. She watched as her mother put the dead to rest once again, each report of the rifle making her jump. Then...

Neither of them saw it, I suppose, it was quiet, moving slowly. The mother couldn't hear its steps over her rifle, and the young one was too afraid to turn around. It grabbed her, wrenching her by her arm. The parent turned, seeing... Seeing her little one taken by Death. She brought the butt of the gun down on it... It staggered back, surprised. I watched... As the last thing its glazed eyes glimpsed was a point of lead, flying at it from a rifle.

The mother was unscathed, the horde dispersed. She was spared.

The young one did not share that luck.