It's been three days... Three days and four nights, and I can see my skin start to rot around the bite mark Soon, my arm will be gone and I with it. With each passing day, I experience worsening fevers. I am always thirsty no matter how much water I drink. Sometime I see the corpses around town and wonder how their flesh would taste. The fantasies grew more and more real, and I felt both disgusted and hungry the more I thought about it. Sometimes I would smell the putrid stench from the dead, which now smelled more and more like a good steak. Sometimes I look at others who were still alive, and I swore I could smell their fear... On the fourth day, I collapsed from exhaustion. I could barely move, and my right arm dangled uselessly. As I lay on the ground, praying for death, my arm turned yellow, then green right before my eyes. I saw the skin shrivel, the muscles underneath tightening. My blood vessel pushed against the epidermis, but they were all colored black. Strangely, I felt no pain. I lost all feeling in my arm, and I could feel the numbness spread to the right of my chest. With a shout, I tore off my ragged shirt with my good arm to reveal the tendrils of black veins rise across my chest. I gasped. My lung began to die. The disease spread faster. For a moment, I saw stars. Blue ones, red ones, white ones all flashing in and out and obscuring what happened next. I tried to move my legs, but they were so tired... and so was I. Breathing heavily, I managed to blink away the stars to see my stomach churn. I suddenly felt hungry again. Here I am, dying and unable to move, yet all I could think about was eating a nice, raw steak... One with blood still spilling out and maybe still attached to its host. I weakly turned my head at the sound of a groan. It was another one of them. It came to finish me off. I expected to feel fear, to experience the chills and goose bumps all over my body like I had ever since they came. But I felt nothing. I felt at peace, like I had worked my ass off for a month and was finally getting a chance to rest. Yes, rest. I gasped again, choking this time. With my good hand, I felt the black veins climbing up my neck and to my cheek. Suddenly, I heard popping noises. This was it, I thought. My vision blurred. I lay my head down and let my tongue roll out as if I had already died. Another moment later, and I realized I could not hear anymore. The last sound to reach me was a sharp ping, before fading into eerie silence. Soon, I could feel nothing either. I could not feel the cold tarmac beneath me nor did I feel the dark veins immure my heart. My vision finally left, but I was still conscious. This empty, numb vessel with a soul still contemplating his own death while his skin bubbled and popped. I wondered for a moment if I had already passed, that this eternal blackness was what lay ahead of me forever. But I was dead wrong. I managed to feel the excruciating pain of my brain being chomped on, and muffled cracks and crunches reverberated in my head.