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reigned.                                                                                                                                                                                 
         Charlie is a secondary, one of those infected with the second stage of the illness he is also one of the rare examples where the infection that he harbors has not as yet had any ill effects. He does not know how long he has to live so he tends to live by his wits and figures that if he is going to die it may as well be a quick death. Passing on to the next world was preferable to remaining on this one as an undead and disfigured monster hiding in the darkness and feasting on the flesh of the living.
         He made it a point to be heavily armed, not because he feared Wasters, as the resurrected deceased had come to be called, the infection he harbored kept them from seeking his blood, no he was far more apprehensive of those who were out to take advantage of the lawlessness the plague had wrought. Those who preyed on the helpless, now they were the truly dangerous ones, the Wasters, Charlie reasoned were simply doing what the disease made them do.
         Charles Lynch, formerly of 2711 Thunderbird Lane, Anytown, USA, traveled alone. Through a burned landscape he walked, one of the few examples of the human species left on planet earth, but even he questioned whether he was still truly mortal.
         He lived with the knowledge that at any moment he could transform into a mindless blood craving monster, a creature created by unseen organisms, a marionette, whose strings were pulled by a microscopic life form, a life form which thrived on human blood. There was no escape from this nightmare become reality, so he survived any way he could.

     
    Chapter 7
     
     
         Charlie rested but he never actually slept, it was more like a state of semi consciousness, he remained acutely aware of his surroundings with his eyes partially open. Sometime around two a.m. he was alerted by the sound of boots on the wooden floor of the abandoned house where he had taken refuge for the night, his eyes popped fully open and he was instantly sentient.
         He carefully pulled the .45 from its holster then lay still in the darkness. Soon he could see movement, two people. The second of the duo paused for a moment in a small shaft of moonlight and Charlie could see a weapon in his hand.
         He waited as the two intruders came closer and when they were within a few feet of him, Charlie’s pistol exploded. He fired three rounds before the intruders returned fire. A barrage of gunfire erupted and bullets struck the wall above his position on the floor, he had the advantage as the intruders mistakenly believed he was standing up.
         Muzzle flashes betrayed the interloper’s positions and Charlie let loose on the one he had seen in the moonlight, he heard a loud thud as the assailant fell to the floor. He turned his weapon on the other person, who had by this time ascertained that Charlie was shooting from a prone position and had begun placing shots which came dangerously close to hitting him.
         Charlie rolled over and took up a new position. He saw the shadowy form of his would be assassin in the opposite corner of the room. He fired three well placed shots and the person let out a piercing shriek and fled from the room, holding onto the wall for support as they went.
         Charlie lay motionless for a moment and then slowly he stood with his back against the wall. He made a quick magazine change and then walked the few paces to where the attacker he had killed lay in a pool of blood.
         He pulled out a cigarette and lit it and threw the burning match down, it hissed as its flame was extinguished in the flowing blood of his