Flesh Eaters

Check this thread's brother OOC thread, for roleplay description and plot.

A man would moan silently a few hundred feet from the road to his left, shortly before he threw up a barrage of blood on to the grass. He doubled over as he put his hands to his stomach, moaning once more in pain before raising his arm to eye level. There it was, the sign he had been hoping not to see. There was a hole, in his arm. And it hadn't been there a few minutes ago. The virus was inside of him, slowly eating away at him from inside.

His vision began to blur as thoughts of killing and eating clouded his mind and judgment. He had always had a weak willpower, and it was proving true yet again as his decisions were easily controlled by the flesh eating virus. His brain had probably already been started at, causing him to slowly begin to revert back to a barbaric state.

Looking around, the man noticed a thin metal rod on the ground. Perfect, sharp, the man's thought directed simply as he picked it up and examined it like a gorilla. He stood up, metal bar in hand, as his full form was revealed. He was a 5'9 man with a fairly muscular body, although it wasn't apparent. The virus had already began eating at the muscle, converting it in to a material more dense than regular muscle, although the side effect was severe pain. His face was pretty normal, that is if the hole that was in his ear cartilage wasn't there.

He looked at the rod once more before shoving it in to his hand, screaming as more pain was added on top of all the previous pain. His mind, however, didn't care. A sharp hard stick was better than the function of a hand. It could be used as a weapon far better and faster than controlled like a tool and holding it. The man's mouth began foaming as he took a few steps towards the bar, stumbling before heading forward at a silent run towards the road.

He saw a light coming towards him, what was left of his mind recognizing it as a vehicle of some sort, most likely holding a person within it's metal frame. Most likely holding food. That was all it took for him to act, moving out of the way as the car swerved, the fragments of the man jumping up on to the car, piercing the roof with the metal rod at the expense of great pain to his body. He ignored the yell from the driver as pulled out the rod, swinging through the car's closed window, glass shattering as the car hit a tree, both the driver and the unwanted passenger, within it.

As the smoke cleared from the leftovers of the wreck, a trail of blood would be visible, leading away from the car to a spot where the zombie was feeding on a dead carcass. Next to them, a phone was visible. He had been unable to talk before the crash, but closer inspection would show that it had been dialed and the talk button pressed. The phone's display showed the numbers 9-1-1. Faint voices could be heard from the cell phone, but all they would hear in response would be the ripping and moaning sounds as the zombie fed. It was only a matter of time before they sent someone to hunt down the creature, or at the very least, an officer or two to investigate.