When he finally awoke the next day to a bed soaked in sweat or at least he hoped it was just sweat. He was having a difficult time! With a head full of fog he was finding it hard to get his thoughts in order regarding the events of the previous day.

As well as the fog though and the feeling like a swamp critter, the worst part was his head was throbbing. It was worse pain than he had ever experienced before, "The pain felt like he was being stabbed over and over with a pumpkin carver" he thought to himself. Everything was still spinning and this just made it feel ten times worse.

Struggling to open his eyelids, it was a lot more effort than he expected, he found blurry unfocusing vision waiting when he got them open. He tried to look at the clock's blue LCD to his right but despite being so close he couldn't read the numbers.

Deciding time wasn't as important as the feeling of having his brain porked, his first ordered thought of the day turned to pain relief. Quickly as the thought came though, his face soured, "FUCK YOU FRANK" he growled through gritted teeth into the ceiling. He covered his eyes with a clammy cold hand to try and block out the light mocking his pathetic existence.

To most painkillers would be an everyday thing to have at hand, to a guy who had been sectioned previously for drug misuse and personal endangerment this was a big no-no. One of the first things Frank drilled into me in sessions with him was to remove temptations. Only buy the painkillers and alcohol I planned to use and not stockpile them. Now considering I'm a full-time stoner with a pack of shrooms sat in his drawer right now you would think he'd have completely ignored his doctors' advice...

And this would be entirely right, except for one thing, he hated how pharmaceuticals worked. He hated how a medication is always just to treat the problem not fix the cause. Not to mention at least drug dealers don't pretend their shit isn't poison, big companies will tell you it's a miracle cure-all for profit then hand out poison to get people reliant. Better to know your demons!

Regardless of opinion's though, what was sure is frank was fucking him over again, "Thanks Frank" he shouted out in annoyance.

After a few more minutes of feeling sorry for himself, he crawled out of the ruffled sodden bed making his way to the kitchen for water. Filling the glass he gulped it down with haste, "why am I so thirsty" he thought!

Although still not feeling close to good yet he was now at least more composed after the hydration. Mind more coordinated he decides to go ask Carl if he has anything he can take. With a goal in mind, he left his apartment, seeking the divine salvation of ibuprofen's warm embrace.

On exiting into the dingey cream walled stairwell he noticed something was off, almost literally!

There was a pungent smell coming from below. The smell hit his nose making his eyes water and he gagged himself with his hand trying not to puke, it was a strong sulphury smell like rotten eggs. Holding his nose he made his way further down. Once at the bottom he saw the door was already open. Peering through into the corridor, there were no lights on at all, making the normally yellow hallway take on a more creepy uninviting appeal. Not wanting to just walk in unannounced he called out into the dark "Carl has the sewage pipes burst again, it stinks in here?. Also why is it so dark man?". After a moment of silence wondering whats was happening, he heard mumbling coming back from the right towards where Carls bedroom was.

"Carl is everything ok?" He asked into the darkness towards the room. He moved further in waiting for the response.

With some sudden shuffling sounds, he heard a rough gravelly voice call back.

"Ughhhhh are you god?" The ruffling and scraping sounds started moving more sporadically after this.

Starting to feel on edge he called back "Carl It's me, is everything ok in there buddy?" The sounds suddenly stop throwing everything into silent darkness once more.

Looking towards the side of the hallway with Carl's bedroom and the bathroom on, he tried straining his eyes to see through the thick smothering darkness. As his eyes started adjusting he saw what he thought was Carls shadow move around in the room.

Taking a step further he tried calling out again "Carl is that you?".

Louder this time the voice back came sounding more like a snarl than His usual self "you don't judge me, sinner!"

Inching more and more towards the voice, he was able to slowly start seeing into the room ahead. It looked like the furniture was being rearranged or maybe Carl was destroying it? he thought.

In the center of the room between scattered wood, clutter and junk stood a motionless Carl staring at the far wall.

In a voice projecting more fear than he intended he spoke to him "Carl man, what's going on? This is weird".

Still not speaking Carl just cocked his head to the left, it looked almost like he was listening to something, abruptly he straightened up, he began turning towards the door.

Watching in silence when he had fully spun around and Carl and he was facing each other just staring, the smell of rotten egg got overpowering, he could taste it in his mouth it was so strong.

With no forwarning at all Carl suddenly lunges forward snarling hands with outstretched blackened fingers. With nearly no time to react to this shit, he did what any other person with his combat experience would, he dived down into the fetal position expecting pain.

With his slow time understanding what was happening and finally the act of diving down, this actually ended up going in his favor. Carl made it to him in a crazy manic sprint, but when he got to the point he would have connected, his target had completely vanished.

Like a drunk game of twister, Carl fell over him and they both got dragged forward in crisscrossing limbs. As the tumble ended and he could see Carl on the floor sprawled out, on autopilot and his chance arrived. In a half crawled half dash toward the stairwell he began moving in a frenzied rush screaming the whole way.

Finally free he got a hand onto the door, behind him he heard moving followed by a deep animalistic snarling. The sound started coming towards him but he didn't dare look back to check. Deciding between trying to shut the bottom door or going for his apartment, He chose!

He scrambled up the stairs in his mad gamble for freedom, the light from his apartment was calling to him offering its safety. Heart pounding through his chest he made it to the top and was nearly there. Just as he was crossing into the threshold of the doorway his heart almost slammed through his gritted teeth. A cold vice-like grip clutched his ankle, it started pulling him backward. Crashing face-first into the floor, Carl started yanking him back harder into the hall, kicking screaming he used the last bit of his adrenalin to grip the wooden frame and use its leverage to pull back. knowing if he didn't do something fast, a terrible thing was gonna happen.

Focusing in front of himself the safety of his room was so close it was in his grasp, "just have to get in" he thought. Before he could do more than scraping the floor, he felt a burning tearing pain in his ankle. His mind was flooded with terror and he could barely breathe through the pain.

Looking back towards his foot where carl was now clutching at him, he saw it. The fucking bastard was biting him like a rabid beast.

Carl lifted his head with a groan of glee and a chunk of flesh pulled away with it being chewed between rotten foaming brown teeth. Screaming and thrashing with everything in him his fear took over, he used his other foot to drive it straight into Carl's head. This did the trick, with a sickening crunch Carl's head snapped back and the force drove him to fall back down into the darkness.

Not waiting to see the landing he started clambering backward trailing dark red blood, he got through the door, and with a grunt, he slammed the door shut. Reaching up he just managed to grip the lock, sliding it until the click came. He waited there Slumped down, breathing hard while lying in front of the door. He waited expected banging to come but other than his heartbeat it was quiet.

looking down at the leg, his jeans were torn and soaked with blood where he had bitten him, worst of all he was bleeding pretty bad from the looks of it.

At the sight of the blood flowing out of the wound though, and with his heightened blood pressure from his heart pounding. Darkness began to fill the edges of his vision, He tried fighting it knowing he wasn't safe here but he couldn't stop it. The blackness enveloped him, it swallowed him whole and he passed out right where he lay.

Sometime later he awoke to a dark room full of shadows, on looking around still out of it, despair hit him. A dark Carl-like figure was just stood against the wall unmoving like it was a predator waiting in ambush. Shuffling up against the wood of the solid door while trying to escape, his eyes cleared slightly. Mind still racing, he could just make out the edges of his coat hung up on its hook.

Sighing in relief, he began looking around the Apartment more closely. Everything in the place seemed the same, the doors were sealed and nothing was damaged.

Trying to make sense of what had happened to him he looked down at his ankle. It was too dark to see the extent of the damage but it felt numb but there wasn't any pain at least. What did worry him slightly though, was a patch of semi-wet and stickiness on the floor, he presumed it was mainly blood from the texture and place but he wasn't entirely sure there wasn't a little urine mixed in too.

Strike that on feeling around his crotch it, he got the confirmation he needed it definitely included urine. "Great", he was going to be found dead stinking of piss he thought sarcastically.

Deciding his dignity took second place to safety, he starting listening for the signs of a madman wanting to hurt him.

Where he was expecting the sounds of a Carl trying to get in and hurt him all he got was eerily silence in return, it was way too quiet considering what had happened.

He began thinking through scenarios in his head "Had Carl left the house realizing he fucked up, wait had he died from the kick? nope, he couldn't be, right? No, no maybe unconscious?" It didn't matter though, he had no intention of opening the door to check.

Deciding for now he was probably as safe as he could be considering how long he had been out defenseless already.

He started thinking of a plan to get help, his first thought went to just leaving out through the external stairs, but these go past the front door and he wasn't sure if could run yet if spotted. Ruling out immediate escape he settled on his second idea of finding a weapon and his phone. He slightly recalled a home invasion documentary he had watched once years ago, it said if getting out was too risky to hide and call for police help.

Trying to drag himself up he realized the numbness made his lower leg useless, even placing a small amount of weight on it caused his ankle to just give out sideways with a crunch. He had already tried to get up and fallen back down three times before it sank in, he couldn't rely on it at all.

Trying for a fourth he managed to pull himself upright, placing his full weight on the uninjured leg and leaning on the wall to brace himself, he grunted. Pushing up with a heave he slowly managed it, now stood there propped up by the wall he looked around again. The phone was easy to spot, it was on the couch where it had been left the night before in his confusion. Carrying on sweeping the room with his eyes, he scanned everywhere in search of his second goal.

The weapon choice he decided on came down to two choices in the end, one option was a kitchen knife and the other an old antique iron fire poker he spotted. His grandma had left it him in her will with a bunch of other random crap he never thought he would use.

The choice was an easy one to make, he couldn't use a knife in a fight! The act of turning a knife into a reliable weapon took a level of skill he just didn't have. The iron poker it was then, "at least I can swing it at arm's length" he thought.

With a plan now set, he felt more in control and his breathing finally steadied to an almost normal point. Hopping on his one good leg, with as little force as possible to reduce his noise but still enough that he could still get somewhere. He slowly made his way across the room one gut-wrenching hop at a time.

After years of criticizing the small space he lived in, he finally had a reason to be grateful for it. The box with the handed-down possessions was closest to him on the wall next to his kitchen. Making it there he grabbed the cold rough handle of the poker and pulled it out. Now armed he continued onwards. It took him a further five unsteady jumps but with one last burst of energy, he slung his entire body over the back of the couch. He rolled over and dropped onto the worn but comfortable cushions pleading to be used. This wasn't his goal though, snatching up the phone in passing he continued his roll downward off the couch until he was slumped on the floor in front of it. Now hidden from the sight of the external doors or window, he listened hard again.

After a few more moments of silence, he breathed out a sigh of relief at making it unhindered. Armed and hidden from view he finally looked to the phone in his shaking hand. The moment the screen flashed to life a notification buzzed informing him he only had 4% battery. Cursing himself for not having the clarity to charge it the night before he closed the message. With no delay he Opened the call app, he dialed 999, and put the phone to his ear listening. When the call connected and was finally answered in a robotic-sounding voice, it was an automated response...

"This zone is in an enforced control order and this number has been suspended for safety. If you require emergency help please call 672 for advice!"

This message was repeated, but he hung up before it was completed. The battery was now saying 3% and panic started bubbling again.

Opening the app once more he dialed the new number 672. Again hitting call he placed the phone to his ear and waited.

This time a human actually answered him. The voice sounded like an overly wired woman on the edge, in the background there was a lot of talking and movement he couldn't make out...

Me.... Hi, Hello? I tried calling 999 but...

Cutting me off the operator started talking.

Operator.... Emergency or viral report!

This question made me halt, he thought back now, was Carl infected? Why did he act like that, was it the virus? Confused he finally answered.

Me.... hmmm, in not quite sure. Maybe both?

Operator.... Ok, are you or anybody you're with in immediate life-threatening danger?

Me.... Yeah, id say so, my neighbor carl is acting insane and attacked me!

Operator.... Ok I understand, that sounds like it might be stage four viral psychosis. Were you or anybody else injured during the attack? This includes scratches, bites or any wound's the attacker may have come into contact with? We do not include injuries from external factors such as from falling in this!

Me.... Why does it matter how I got injured?

Operator.... please just answer the question we are busy here and need to move this along!

Temper starting to rise from being treat like I was inconveniencing her job he snapped back.

Me.... Ok, ok. Yes, he injured me, he bit my fucking leg if that's what you want to know. Is it?

Operator.... Calm down please, I will not warn you again! The quicker and more concise you answer the faster I can advise you. "Ahem", back to it, Since being bitten have you had any of the following symptoms? Chills, Vomiting, Numbness in the area, or the sudden urge to attack people?

Me.... No!, why would I attack people?

Thinking over the rest of what had been said after the outburst.

Me.... Wait, numbness! My lower leg was completely numb, but I think that might be from blood loss though.

Like it was being read from a script now, the woman started again.

Operator.... Thank you for the patience, that's all the questions I needed answering. We will send someone out to you soon, but for now, we advise you to find a secure place to barricade yourself in until help arrives. Once secure and safe try to disinfect the wound with either boiling water or heat. You may get some burns from the temperature but killing the virus is more important than a few more minor injuries. Once cleaned bandage the wound and stay quiet. If there is nothing else I will say goodbye.

She then paused expecting a response.

Me.... did you say clean it with fire or boiling water? Also don't you need an address to send help too?

Operator.... yes fire or clean boiling water are advised. As for your address, we are tracking the GPS from this call and have your location, so no that won't be necessary.

Confused and agitated he replied.

Me.... is this a joke, are you really telling me the virus needs burning out? What the fuck is happening, How long until help gets here?

Sighing the operator starts speaking again.

Operator.... Help will arrive when they are free to do so, you're not our only emergency case and they are pushed to the limit. Until then you are advised to follow the advice given.

Deciding we were done now the last thing that came was some bollocks about my address now being highlighted and communications were limited to emergency band waves to provide a clearer signal...

He didn't hear the rest, the phone died on him, looking at it in astonishment he felt sick. The woman had said they were sending help but for some reason, he felt like it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. The woman sounded like she had said the same thing over and over the way it came out sounding so well-practiced.

Placing his hand to his head in a beaten submissive gesture he felt sweat, a lot of sweat actually.

He didn't feel overly hot but he was drenched now that he was paying attention to it. When had his clothes gotten this wet and why was he only feeling it now. Pushing his worry to the side he dragged himself up to look over the couch.

He wasn't worried about Carl getting into the Apartment through the rooftop window and the big internal door was an old thick, durable thing. Made well before profit was put above quality this the door was strong, it could easily take a bit of a beating before breaking. Despite this though, he still hopped over and managed to slide a wardrobe across for added peace of mind. The outer door was easiest as it had a large steel security gate he could close over it locking it securely. Meant as a burglar deterrent, it should work well. With a huge amount of effort, he managed to secure the place as much as he could with one leg. Still not feeling completely safe he was spent, it was all he could do in his worsening state.

By the point it was done, he was beginning to feel cold. Closing the blinds he risked lighting a small candle for visibility. Looking down now he could see in the small amount of light given by the flame, he saw the wound finally.

The jeans he wore were torn and tatted from the mid-calf down to the ankle and ruined. Blood was dried now and staining everything he wore, he thought he looked like a serial killer in a cheesy slasher flick. Biting back a small grin his eyes focused on the numb exposed skin.

The area was a mess of brown and red gunk with a lot of swelling. Looking at the wound was stomach-churningly gross, the skin had curved teeth marks running along the edge. The inside was though, this was the part that made him vomit. The bite had ripped away the skin and in its places was what looked like a bloody brown mess of shredded meat. It smelt like it was rotting too and this further increased the volume he threw up. Even though the surrounding area was red and swollen the skin felt cold and clammy to the touch.

Having thrown up his entire dinner from the day before from just the smell and look he concluded it was definitely infected. Worrying about the infection making him do what Carl had he eyed the kettle mind made up. It didn't take him long to hop to the kitchen now he was spurred on by worry. Filling and turning the kettle on, the boiling part was done way too fast in his opinion. So he boiled it another six times just in case and not just to calm the nerves telling him this was a huge mistake.

Breathing hard slumped on the floor with a steaming pot full of scalding water on his left, he used a thick wooden spoon he had found in the drawer placing it into his mouth, and bit down hard. Not wanting to waste his dwindling conviction he lifted and poured the water before he could reconsider it.

The moment the boiling water hit the wound, all numbness disappeared. He screamed in unbearable agony unable to do anything but clench his teeth tasting wooden splinters while watching in horror as the area blistered and scared. The last thing he remembered before everything turned black from the agony was the pot clanking to the floor after he dropped it and a strange maniacal laugh from somewhere... "was that him laughing?" he thought. Then almost like a tradition today he passed out from the agony.