This is a reproduction of an actual event in the way that a show like Dateline might stage a 'dramatic reenactment' of actual events. The dialogue and the way events unfold is neither exact nor precise in part to protect the innocent etc, etc, and largely because I can't remember exactly the way things were, and also because sometimes one must edit occurrences to make for a story that flows together a bit more. Thus, we can take the following as 'based on a true story' rather than as 'the real 100 percent accurate story of real life'.
In the post-apocalyptic war zone that is the 6 Corners at 4am your small group of friends or co-workers are your only allies against the unpredictable Infected. The Infected stumble haphazardly into the street. They fight. They yell. They puke. They relieve themselves in alleys and generally comport themselves as though law has vanished. Many operate obliviously, abandoning themselves to the chaotic will of Bacchus. Others, however, seem to have a keen nose for new flesh. They sense those who are un--or less-- infected and force undesired interaction.
Having just recently emerged from work, my little group of four counted among the, relatively, un-infected. The warm glow of whiskey and a beer only just touched our cheeks. We were at that most vulnerable point when the heady joy of post-work camaraderie makes 'I have some beers in my fridge, why don't you all come over' seem like a viable option even though everyone knows the correct answer is 'I'm going to take this cab home right now.' So we stood in loose formation. Cigarettes were lit. Jokes were told. A scuffle down the street drew our attention momentarily, and then he was upon us. A Stranger. His approach hit us at our weakest point.
