The Survivalists

-Chapter 5-

Ezra walked through the hall slowly, a deep ringing echo bouncing off the walls from his footsteps. No one was around at this point except for Kane who stood idly in a corner, a cigarette to his chapped lips. 

Ezra had never taken an interest to the drug unlike a few of the other black Hoods. Most of the others however, were either training for The Games, on a mission for the red Hood, or sleeping. One of the three. 

Currently, Ezra didn't have a mission from the red Hood, but he had a feeling he would when morning came. 

Ezra continued down the hall, head down slightly with the T-shirt full of meat held tightly, the knot he made with the sleeves between his fingers and the sack hanging lowly. 

Kane turned his head slightly, it was obvious that this was out of disgust from the blood stained, white cloth that was full of Infected meat, but he never said anything. 

Ezra entered into his own room, pulling the gate back, and then the curtain. He looked at the two Infecteds, sniffing the air like animals. That, however, was exactly how Ezra saw them. 

He looked at their one-armed bodies.

He'd removed one arm in order to ensure they'd never have an advtange over him in the event that they may escape. If they had only one arm, it would be easy to knock them off balance.

However, he doubted they would ever attack him. They bowed to him. He was there master for he fed their unquenchable thirst for brains. Infected brains weren't exactly their favorite, but it would suffice.

What they truly wanted, was human blood. Human brains in particular.

However, they'd never be given a human brain. It gave them too much power.

Though, if they did something particularly good, he would award them with a small dish of his own blood. This was rare though.

But, it was only fair. If they saved his life, he should award them graciously. They understood this as well. Instead of sneering at the enemy, Ezra found it important that he get close to the enemy. Raise two as his own and make them into undeafetable weapons.   

He unwrapped the Infected brains and lied the shirt out on a table as though it were a placemat, where they hungrily took a brain, fingernails digging into the glistening dark flesh, devouring it quickly before indulging in another. 

Content, they finally stood slouched and quiet, staring intently at their master. Their faces mangled and flesh hanging oddly off thier body in other places. 

Silence was their form of a thank you. 

Ezra sat silently on his bed looking into their eyes for just a moment, wondering if perhaps they could still though and felt. Did they want to comitt these murderers to fulfill their hunger? Did they see humans as they were or did they see them only as food?

He turned away,  looking up and out the window. A half-moon was nestled amongst the stars in the large stretching sky. 

He blinked for a moment. 

He'd once been told that the building they were currently inhabitating had been a prison. What was a prison? He'd asked that, and had been given a very vague reply. A place for the evil and wicked of sin. 

What was a man of evil and wicked sin? No one had replied. 

He'd been much younger then, when he'd asked the red Hood those questions but..

He swallowed and let out a slow sigh.

The past did not matter. That was what was constantly needled into his brain, and so finally and dejectedly, he had taken this philosphy into affect. He'd tried to simply ignore whatever once had been. 

What was now, was what mattered. 

Slowly, he removed his cloak and looked blankly at his pale skin.