Contributor: BrettB

Monsters. That's what they are. Monsters.

Before the disease, each victim was a person. They had a life, a family, priorities. They were somebody's brother, mother, niece, grandpa. They've lost it all though. Lost their humanity, their life, their soul, and their sanity. They're no more than animals – infectious, hungry animals. They're no longer your loved ones. It's taken time – time to adjust to the reflexive killing. I used to hesitate before killing them. What if there was a cure? What if they were trying to communicate with me? What if buried under the rotting corpse-like appearance, the shrieks and howls, the blood-stained fingers and ragged clothes was a human? Was I killing someone's love?

No. This isn't a moral dilemma. You kill these things or they kill you. That's the way it goes. They love no one and no one loves them. The person they used to be isn't in there. You loved ones are not trapped inside – it's no more than an animated corpse. They're at the edge of the grave, and there is no cure but death.

Death to the Monsters.