Uh, yes, breaking through the forest had been quite an idea, but jumping out onto the road in my condition would have been completely suicidal. Although, I guess I'm already dead? But that first thought—expressed in a stream of profanity I'm still a little ashamed of—was confirmed even before I finally left the base of those crazy vivisectors. So, by calling them "Umbrellophiles," I really hit the nail on the head. They weren't just psychopaths or deranged role-players, but real scientists at a real base.
At that moment, my desire to run from the "psycho role-players" turned into a desire to "get the hell out of this **** base before they turned me into a zombie or something worse." However, by the tenth wall I broke through—after the chair shattered on the seventh (leaving steel armrests hanging off me), and after I smashed the last three walls with my fists and body—I realized that the walls I was breaking down so easily were by no means made of cardboard (as if I had been escaping from cosplay enthusiasts) or even plasterboard, which anyone could break. It was concrete. If not something stronger. I don't really know much about construction materials, but the half-meter thickness alone hinted that a human being shouldn't be able to break through them at all.
But because of the shouts behind me and the echoing commands, I didn't have much time to think about it. I really didn't want to stay in those laboratories, so I was even glad I had such strength—and that I didn't feel pain from my broken fingers, from which blood was oozing.
I realized just how bad the situation was six minutes later, after running out of the perimeter and into the forest. More precisely—not immediately after running out, but after crashing into the sixth tree. And no, my coordination was fine; I just couldn't keep up with the speed of my body using my (dead) brain! Yes, I was moving so fast that everything blurred before my eyes. Only a minute later, when I had not fully adjusted but at least began dodging trees, did I come to a conclusion: I could now easily outrun a truck…but a sports car would still beat me. The realization crushed me. A person simply cannot move like that!
But I didn't have long to wallow in self-flagellation, because a dog jumped at me! I managed to raise my hands in time and keep the beast from biting off my head. And it could have! Not only was it a Doberman—it was fucking undead! Or a special type of dog capable of "living" with one eye missing and half its skin gone.
Then I blacked out.
When I came to, the blood on my body was being absorbed into me, and the dog's skull lay in front of me. Yep, there aren't even any bones left except for the skull, but what was much worse was that my hunger hadn't gone anywhere!
A couple of seconds later I noticed some black, ticking device lying about twenty centimeters from the former Doberman's skull. My associations kicked in instantly, and I jumped back as far from the supposed bomb as I could. The explosion happened the moment I left the ground. No, the radius wasn't large—only a couple of meters—but it threw me back a good distance and slammed me into a tree.
There was no pain, but I had trouble controlling my body—like a key had gotten stuck or something. A couple of seconds after I straightened up, something inside me cracked loudly several times, and everything fell back into place.
Wow, what regeneration! Or was it because I had just eaten? A significant question, of course, but it seems to me that it should be postponed. The approaching growling—though I couldn't see anyone in the thermal spectrum—clearly hinted that if I lingered, I'd have to deal with the rest of the pack.
Ah yes, about the thermal spectrum. Even as I woke up, I noticed that the figures of people behind the glass glowed reddish, and I saw the same when running away from the base—the walls didn't block it, either. That's exactly what helped me bypass the guards. But I saw zombies without any glow, so that worked the old-fashioned way: if I see you—great; if not—your problem. True, I had a better chance of survival than humans. On my way out I broke through the wall of either a cell or a laboratory, and the three zombies sitting there reacted to me… not at all. But they rushed at the guards chasing me with enthusiasm.
Dogs, however, were clearly after me, so it wasn't that simple. Maybe they were created differently or trained differently—I don't know. But the fact remains: the human zombies ignored me; the Dobermans did not.
But I didn't get far before another dog caught up with me. Again, as if spellbound, I smelled its blood—not as enticing as the first time or as with living beings, but still very attractive. This time the pull overwhelmed me, though far less so; I didn't lose touch with reality. Although, honestly, it might've been better if I had—because my body acseems to have taken on a life of its own!
I lunged forward, and the dog that had jumped at me received a powerful blow to the skull, literally smashing it instantly. Then I pounced on what remained of its head and sank my elongated fangs into the mess.
What the hell was happening to me?!
Before my eyes, the dog's body literally shriveled, and my hands worked frantically, throwing already bloodless chunks of meat into my mouth. I tried to spit it out—or at least stop somehow—but it was useless! All I could do was watch, as if nothing in my body except my eyes listened to me. And instead of disgust, I felt pleasure—and I disliked that even more! No normal person could eat dead meat and feel pleasure. Although, on the other hand… beef and pork from a store… aren't those dead, too?
Ugh! I was already justifying myself. Rock bottom—achieved.
Meanwhile, my body continued devouring the carcass with relish, grinding everything, bones included. Yes, I devoured it in mere minutes! But where did all of that even fit inside me?