Tristan: "Chuck," I scream as the infected bites down on his arm. Chuck screams as he shakes his arm but the infected wouldn't let go. Eyeing the car, Chuck grabs the infected by its head and slams it against the car over and over. After the fifth time, the infected opens its mouth and falls to the ground. "Chuck," I yell, running to see Chuck's arm. With a gun in my hand, I prepare to do it. I prepare to shoot Chuck. It sounds cruel. It sounds harsh, but it's better than being an infected. It's better than being a mindless zombie, only focusing on finding and eating. As I approach Chuck, I notice his wound. "What the hell," I say, not seeing any blood. Instead, I see something soft and white. "Relax," Chuck yells, seeing the gun in my hand. "And don't shoot me. At least not yet." "What the hell," I say again, pointing at what is supposed to be a bite mark. As I look closer, I realize what is going on. "Are you, are you wearing some sort of body armor?" "It's called padding," Ch
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