"There's the clinic." The windows were covered in blood and handprints; there were going to be alot of them in there. Clerical and Bilbo crossed the street and tried the door, but it was locked; a good thing, too, because they were answered by many distorted screams from inside. Bilbo felt nervous; was this going to work? He didn't feel too good, but he couldn't be sure whether it was the infection or the fact that he was about to walk into a room of 10 things out to kill people like him. It didn't smell too good either; Bilbo was prepared to see the remnants of a massacre inside this damned building.
After a while of looking Clerical came to get Bilbo. "There's a door at the back and it's open, should we go?" Bilbo nodded; what other chance would they get? He went to the back and opened the door silently. He walked in carefully, closing the door behind him, and looked for any signs of the cure. Across the floor were dozens of empty, used syringes. They led to another door which seemingly entered the front of the shop, where all of the infected were. Bilbo understood; once the doctors knew there was no hope, they used all of the cure for themselves, trying to stay alive. It obviously didn't work though, there were infected in there. He decided to go through the door that said 'STAFF ONLY'. It led to a room full of bottles of medicine, bandages and all sorts. He grabbed some necessities, but he couldn't seem to find anything which blatantly said 'Cure' on it. He even went so far to read the small text on the backs of the bottles, but no answer. That was it; the doctors must have used it all for them. Unless there was still some in the front room... the room filled with infected people, hungry for flesh. Well, now was the time to put the theory to the test. He walked back to the door which led to the front, and opened it...
There was no turning back now. Bilbo walked into the room far enough to be surrounded by the infected. They surrounded him, confused as to why he suddenly appeared. They ran their fingers down his arms. They moaned softly, which unsettled Bilbo. He made eye contact with one an infected man and observed him closely. His eyes were opened inhumanly wide and bloodshot. The infected man stared back, not knowing what else to do. He wore a lab coat, but it was torn and stained with blood. He had obviously been a doctor. Bilbo noticed something in the man's pocket; a filled syringe. He took it and wondered why the infected doctor hadn't used it. It didn't matter, he had the cure now. He slid it out of the doctor's pocket as all of the infected watched him strangely. They didn't know what he was doing. Now he needed to know where to jab himself. He went down to his knees and searched for a bottle among the crowd of feet. He found a label which told him to jab it into his arm. However, it didn't say what medicine it was for. What if it wasn't for the cure? What if this was going to kill him for putting it in the wrong place? He decided to risk it. He braced himself, then jabbed it into his arm fast, to get it over with. As he pushed all of the cure into him he let out a gasp; it stung inside his arm as it spread. He fell to the ground, feeling too weak to move. His whole body was tingling; was this supposed to happen? He was feeling better already. He shouted to Clerical, "It's working!" Suddenly a scream filled out the silence, followed by more. Bilbo's smile faded as he realised what he'd done. He'd just cured himself in the middle of a crowd of infected, looking to eat people who were healthy. He screamed. The infected fell to their knees as they began to bite at his skin, then his flesh. It was so painful, he wanted it to be over. It would be over, soon. Bilbo had doomed himself to a horrible death. He felt stupid.
Clerical shouted, "Bilbo! No, no, no!" This wasn't supposed to happen. He slid down to a sitting position with his hands covering his face. Both of his friends were dead. He was all alone. Bilbo's death was his fault. It had been his idea to do this. The screams faded. Either they'd devoured him completely, or he had come back as one of them. He felt like there was no purpose for him anymore; no place to go, no one to talk to. Maybe he should end it right now; no one would care, all of his family, all of his friends, were dead, no where to be seen. Maybe he should enter that building and die the same way as Bilbo. Or maybe he should slit his throat and go through the same pain as Disco instead. He decided not to do either of these in the end; he felt starving. He pulled out a can of beans from his backpack. He wouldn't let these monsters get him the same way as Bilbo.