The Survival: Cruelty's Curse

Chapter 1:

Cold Winters

"Ah! Jesus Christ!" Quill yelled when he sprang awake.

Quill rested his face upon his hand, rubbing his face. He looked up, and saw only the ceiling. Quill looked into the corner of the room, where the coat rack in which his backpack hung upon. Quill removed the thin blanket that laid upon him, and walked to his belongings. He turned his head to the coat rack, grabbing his leather jacket. Throwing it on himself, Quill reached for his backpack, he strapped it upon his back, and zipped up his coat. He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out his gloves. Quill inserted his cold hands into the warm, leather gloves. He shoved his hand into the coat pocket again, and took out his ski mask. Quill draped it over his head, warming his face. He let out a sigh of ecstasy to the warmth he felt. With every breath he took, he could see it. Quill saw a glimmer in his eyes. He looked towards it and saw the 7.62×51mm M40 sniper rifle that he owned... Quill gave a happy grin, and picked it up. He pulled back the bolt handle, and took out the magazine, it was fully loaded, just like he suspected. So Quill let the bolt handle go, closing the bolt.

"What a day this is gonna be." Quill sighed.

Quill walked across the weak wooden floor, his boots trotted to the door. He put his hand over the cold, cold door knob. Quill twisted his hand, and swung open the door, letting in the bitter cold winter breeze. Quill quickly dashed out of the cabin, and into the winter snow. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked through the snow. Quill looked back at the cabin, squinting at it. Was there someone following him? That question pondered in his head, but Quill moved on. He turned his head back again, he moved further away from the camp in which his cabin, along with many others, sat in. Some cabins had smoke rising out of their chimneys. Quill sighed and strolled on, to the woods that were in front of him. Quill grinned, he vaulted over a wooden fence, and slowly, quietly, stepped over branches and twigs.

"I gotta be careful now..." He whispered to himself.

Many branches and twigs were resting on the path that was made, they were used as a sound trap, to alert nearby campers of animals to hunt, or infected to slay. Quill stepped away from the path, but still made the crunching sound of the crackling white snow. Quill heard the snapping of a twig from afar, he turned his head to it like lightning, and saw a buck, slowly walking around. Quill grinned intensely. He ever so quietly aimed his sniper at the buck's head. The buck didn't see Quill as it's head faced the dirt. Quill observed the unaware buck through his scope, lining up it's head in between the scopes cross hairs. Quill pulled the trigger, the rifle made a loud popping sound. The bullet flew out of the sniper barrel into the buck's skull. A splatter of blood soared across the air, onto the snow upon the ground. The buck tipped over, and fell on it's side, letting the blood leak out from the side of it's head. Quill walked over to it, seeing that it's eyes were closed, he gave a smirk. So he stomped on it's head multiple times, crushing the skull, and the brain. Quill's happy mood soon went away when he heard a gun click behind him. Quill dropped his rifle, and put his hands up. The person who clicked the gun grabbed Quill's shoulder and turned him around. He smiled to see a familiar face.

"Keep your hands where I can see 'em" Said a woman, with white hair, and dark circles around her eyes.

The woman pulled off Quill's mask, seeing that it was Quill, she gave a sigh of relief, and put her gun back into her holster.

"Quill, try using a scarf" stated the woman.

"Sorry. Ms. Gilda, I guess it didn't come to mind. I scored the camp some food." Quill responded as he scratched his thick beard.

Gilda chuckled. "Many thanks, maybe if you tried using a bow and some arrows, you wouldn't have to wake the entire camp!"

"I'll take that into consideration. It'd be must appreciated if you help me drag this beautiful, delicious buck into camp." Quill replied.

"Will do." Gilda answered

Quill and Gilda walked to the buck. Quill grabbed one leg while Gilda grabbed the other. Both of them walked backwards to the wooden fence.

"Be a dear and get it over this fence?" Gilda asked.

Quill chuckled, and picked up the buck with both of his arms. Quill lifted it, and tossed over the fence. The both of them climbed over, and continued dragging it to camp. Some men were sitting on the porches of their cabins. One of them spotted Quill and Gilda. The man aimed his rifle at them and yelled,

"Turn back now!"

"Caramel, it's just Quill and I!" Gilda shouted.

Caramel eased his aim, and gave an "Okay" sign with his fingers to the rest of the men. Carmel sit back down in his chair, keeping his rifle at his side. Other people sat outside around a campfire, roasting raw deer meat upon a spit. A young man was turning the spit, as the deer meat was being roasted. Quill and Gilda dragged the deer to the campfire. The young man's father smiled.

"So Quill scored us dinner?" The father asked in a happy tone

"Yeah, I busted a cap in it's head. His fur will make a great coat. I could really use one," Quill said, "The meat is gonna fill a lot of bellies up, I tell you what!"

The father grinned. Gilda patted Quill on the back, and walked, pushing Quill with her.

"So, what camp or hangout we gonna raid?" Quill asked.

"You're gonna love this one, we're going to infiltrate Quarantine Zone 5B in St. Louis. Our agents over their have gotten info about research for a cure," Gilda explained, "They have many supplies their, enough to feed us for a lifetime"

Quill's face dropped into fear. Gilda saw the expression and nudged his arm.

"Hey, don't get all scared. That heart in your chest is made out of mighty thick ice, since when have you given a shit about someone else's life?" Gilda asked.

"Good point to bring up there. I just ain't in the mood to do this raid. It just doesn't feel right, boss."

"This sentence coming out of the lips of a stone cold motherfucker!? Grow some fucking balls Quill!

Gilda raised her voice.

"Ms. Gilda, I have balls. Tell me to shiv a bitch in the throat, I do what is asked," Quill went on, "Tell me to shoot a fucker in the face? Mission accomplished within thirty seconds. I'm always doing what's been told of me for the most part. But I just ain't feelin' it, this time."

"Quill, even though you've been with us for a couple months, it seems like forever. You're my right hand man, and not once have you disappointed me. I think I'll let you sit out this one, but on one condition, you ain't getting dibs on the next raid." Gilda advised.

Quill groaned, but accepted his punishment. Gilda walked back to the people sitting by the fire, while Quill stepped onto his cabin porch. Opening his door, he kicked the snow off of his boots. Quill's fireplace was all ready for him, he gave a slight grin, and warmed his hands by the fire. Quill took off his leather coat, and hung it on his coat rack. He slowly walked to his bed, and sat on it, rubbing the stress off of his face. Quill looked to his side, and saw his backpack, he grew sorrowful as he reached for the backpack's strap. Quill pulled the backpack closer to him, unzipped it, and extended his arm into it. Scourging around, he felt a type of paper. When you feel it, it feels as if it's a picture. A tear came to his eye as he pulled it out. Quill looked at the picture, it was a picture of Rainbow Dash that he took, when they were in High school.

Quill sighed with pain.

"Those memories," He said, "All gone. Does she even miss me anymore? Or has she forgotten already..."

The pain that Quill had was unbearable, and sorrowful. He wondered, did the only person he truly, ever cared about forget him? So many questions never ceased to stop flying around in his head, making him so curious. The major curiosity didn't help ease the pain. As a matter of fact, it made it worse. Quill cupped his hands, and put his hands on his face. But Quill got enraged, and balled up his hand into a fist, and punched the floor as hard as he could. His hand broke through the floorboards, into the cold air of his basement. Quill's knuckles bled, but no care entered into his heart or mind.

"No, she couldn't of forgotten me... I left a part of me, when I left her. I was the only god damned person that took care of her during this SHIT! I get no fucking reward, I just get more bullshit," Quill talked to himself.

I suppose, by now, Quill loved Rainbow Dash. Hold on, that was an understatement, my apologies. Quill Tale loved Rainbow Dash so much, because she was the only one who really understood him. Maybe not when Quill had the visions, because Rainbow Dash was a skeptical person. She needed to "see it to believe it," and that's what Rainbow Dash got when the Changeling Virus broke out. Quill put the picture on his nightstand, and looked through his backpack more. He pulled out some papers, and the optimistic side of his curiosity got the better of him. Quill put his feet up on his bed, and rested his head. He read the papers carefully. They were documentations! One was titled: St. Louis Department Of Health - Changeling Virus Symptoms.

"Huh," Quill said, "I forgot about these."

Quill read the document.

"Wow," Quill said, "That makes my fear of getting bitten increase."

Quill put the papers back into his backpack, and looked at the picture of Rainbow Dash again. He could still remember that night, almost a year ago, they had the best night of their lives. It's been seven years since the outbreak, though. But Rainbow Dash left a mark on Quill's soul, that would make him love her more than anything. Quill realized that it would be a long time before he could see his beloved again. This is just the start of a long, depressing life alone. Of course Quill had his boss, Gilda and his comrades by his side. But Quill knew that deep inside, he was surely alone. And he felt as if his death would draw near, Quill felt he'd die like a moth to the flame. It hit him hard like a ton of bricks that reality had came in, life was harder, and horrible. At times, Quill would put his revolver, fully loaded, to his head and think of ending it all. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. Suicide was the cowards way out. Quill Tale was NO coward. Soon, Quill got bored and remembered his six string. He smiled, got up off of his bed. And grabbed his six string Acoustic guitar. Quill picked away at the strings, strumming tunes that came to mind.

But still, that picture never left his mind. The picture had his attention, it made him pluck at random strings, sounding distorted. Quill couldn't resist it, so he took the picture and put it back into his backpack, and sat back down on his bed. Until he remembered back to that night, it felt like years had gone by since then, but it's only been several months. Quill plucked away at his guitar as he remembered the best night of life

.