"Hey, did you know?"

[Sexy Frog]

​

The muck that surrounded the man seemed boundless, all consuming and frigid. Black as midnight and with a consistency like that of tar; the very sensation of the substance that surrounded him seemed to permeate his very core with its oppressive influence. It’s viscid, glutinous sludge tugged fervently against every movement he dared to make, not that it mattered; he had given up ages ago. As he lay on his back, the only thing exposed to air being his face, hands, feet and the crown of his chest, the man could not but stare above.

No light greeted him where he was, artificial or otherwise, yet somehow he could see clearly as if the moon were just above him casting a near spectral luminescence as far as he could see. Where he expected stars, he saw an infinite gloom that starred back at him, a haggard void that gaped, threatening to swallow him whole if the black sea that engulfed him would only surrender first.

He listened, but heard nothing. Not the chirp of birds, nor the rustle of the wind. Only his own ragged breathing, muffled through his sludge filled ear and as his dread soon began to mount, so much more ragged and panicked did his breathing become. He had no recollection of how he got here or where ‘here’ even was. When he had first come to, he had foggy memories, but only wisps of them and by the first few hours they too had left him.

Before the man knew it, he felt his face grow hot as his face flushed and blood roared in his ears. His heart began to thump with such ferocity that he could swear the noire ooze that surrounded him was rippling as a result. At first he tried his best to calm himself, attempting to take deep slow breaths in lieu of the rapid, hysteria fueled gasps he was currently taking but it was moot once his vision began to tunnel as the anxiety seemed to consume him.

‘Get up…! Get! Up!’ He yowled internally, unable to speak as his vocal cords seemed to twist and warp in ways that seemed alien to him. If it was because of the mind numbing terror or the clenching of his chest from the bile that was attempting to claw its way up his throat, he couldn’t be sure. It was useless.

The man’s hysteria seemed to freeze for but a moment as a flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. He tried to turn his head to focus on the unknown, but the gummy tar-like muck greedily held it firmly facing up. A small wave seemed to form just beneath the surface of the fathomless mire, causing his eyes to dart toward it again. He strained them to the point where dazzling silver stars pranced across his vision. As his eyes finally settled on the source, the wave seemed to freeze for a moment; almost as if realizing it had been spotted. It made no sound, remaining perfectly still -- the sole blemish in an otherwise sinister, yet serene, Stygian expanse.

Then it began to move. Slowly, at first. So slowly, in fact, he thought he might have imagined it. He hadn’t. It began to slowly build speed, drawing nearer and leaving him little time to process. Within moments, its speed seemed to rival the beat of his incomprehensibly galloping heart, as shot toward him at a breakneck pace.

He tried to scream. He desperately wanted to scream.

The pressure of his horror, panic and dread compounding in his chest, hotter than his bile could ever manage; it desperately clawed for freedom in the form of a scream. Despite the pain that welled in his chest, he couldn’t form the noise.

Though it was really only a moment or two, to him the scene seemed to drag on an eternity before finally...it reached him. It came to an abrupt halt, a perfect, seamless, inky wave that sat motionless, less than a foot from his head. Suddenly, the ebony sludge seemed to twitch before slowly sliding down the silhouette of a small figure, no larger than a small dog. Where he thought his heart was racing with speed to incite a heart attack, his body surprised him by picking up the pace, he could feel the veins bulging in his eyes from the prolonged strain of peering sideways as greasy sweat began to bead in copious amounts all over his body, some manged to slither into his eyes causing them to smolder in discomfort; but he dared not to blink. Not for a moment.

As the last of the muck returned to its surroundings, before him stood a small yet grotesque creature. It’s skin was hairless, tanned and leathery. From his perspective, it was almost perfectly dome shaped but its textured flesh was riddled with repulsive, throbbing veins and wrinkles that eventually fed into several dagger-like fangs that twitched and wriggled with voracious hunger. Flexing a pair of long, hooked legs that mirrored the appearance of its fangs, the creature let out a maddening, voracious coo of interest as it seemed to notice him. Every movement it made seemed to flash its underbelly which the man could only describe to himself as...cavernous.

Though his memories seemed to have left him, somehow the faint hollow ring of a familiar, yet unidentifiable voice sounded off in his mind that had long since blanked out of anything else.

‘Hey, did you know?’ the voice prodded, in a quizzical manner before continuing rather matter-of-factly, ‘It’s not currently known if a person is technically alive after turning into a Zombie. But, the groaning that Zombies constantly make are heard as a victims' muffled attempts to yell for help. This seems to indicate that a victim is likely alive and at least somewhat aware of their situation.’

The voice paused before muttering somberly, ‘It’s terrible, really. I can’t imagine a worse way to end up...’ The voice faded from his memory just as quickly as it had come.

Once again the creature cooed before raising it’s fore claws and letting out a violent, ear shattering screech as it bunched itself in preparation to attack. With a silent gasp, the man squeezed his eyes shut….and...and.

He awoke with a jolt. Where coal-black gunk had smothered his limbs, he felt nothing. Where sound could not reach him apart from his muffled, ragged breathing he heard the chirp of crickets from afar and the howl of wind. Where light could not reach him...it still could not. Maybe it was dark out? He finally realized that what he felt beneath him was the comforting feeling of wooden planks. Was he home? Was what he experienced just a dream?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, an indescribable agony ripped through him. His chest, just like in his dream, seemed to sear. It was as if someone had begun to tear into him and bore out his innards. Nausea coupled with the chill of doom engulfed him as he felt like he might vomit -- the familiar rise of bile rearing its head. Nothing came. But the obliterating anguish was too much to bear as he finally reared his head and let out a blood curdling, inhuman howl that seemed to portray his affliction.

The clanging of metal sounded off nearby, clattering sharply in the gloom. The man could hear the sound of staggered footsteps coupled with ragged breathing that, surprisingly, was not his own. Another person? For a moment, boundless joy sprung forth and seemed to scarcely numb the pain. Maybe they could help him...maybe they could save him from this harrowing agony. He would give anything to rid himself of this unbearable suffering.

Before he realized it, his arms and legs had begun to move as if on their own accord. He pushed himself off the ground, hobbling to his feet before making off into a stagger towards the breathing. The pain seemed to return, fiercer than ever as it tore through him once again causing him to yowl once more, this time forcing himself into a desperate, soul crushing plea.

“oH gOd, HeLp Me! PlEaSe HeLp Me!” The man pleaded, desperately hobbling towards the breath in an agony fueled frenzy.

He could hear the voice of another man scream in return, sputtering and bumbling unintelligibly. The man couldn’t understand, he was in so much pain...why? Why wouldn’t this person help him?

“S-Sta-Stay away! Get away from me, you zombie fuck!” The other man blubbered between frightful wails.

Finally, the man understood. He understood his dream -- he understood the indescribable chest pain, the cavernous feeling that now took its place. Horror overtook him in sync with everything else. Now he understood.

“oH gOd, HeLp Me! PlEaSe HeLp Me!!!”

It is not currently known if a person is technically alive after turning into a Zombie. However, the groaning that standard Zombies constantly make in Half-Life 2 are heard as a victims' muffled attempts to yell for help. This seems to indicate that a victim is likely alive and at least somewhat aware of their situation.