Clay sat hunched over on his bed, turning over the small pill box in his hands edgily.<br/>â€˜Warning; effects are short term, dating over a 4 hour periodâ€™. No shit Sherlock.<br/>How many hours had he slept?<br/>When were we on now?<br/>When was his last dose?<br/>Before dinner yesterdayâ€¦ probably. EH! Clay scowled, tore open the package slightly shakily and took three of them dry. Buy a diary you skinny assed plank of wood!<br/>The dream alone should have been a dead giveaway.<br/>Hurrâ€¦ â€˜deadâ€™.<br/>The raw meat craving was second base. Craving was quite a strong word, the reaction needed no lust involved, it had been sheerly instinctual. Itâ€™s not like heâ€™d thought on it any, there was no master plan at work, no, Clay had simply wandered over to the fridge and found the nearest source of raw meat when really he HAD been planning on cereal.<br/>He glanced over at the clock, still feeling a little too glazed over. Ten hours. Approx. Maths never had been his strong point, but he was pretty sure that left six hours of his body running on empty. And how long was it the nice lady from the clinic had told him it took for a person to turn full Dawn of The Dead?<br/><br/>Ten to thirty hours depending on their genetics and any prior existing conditions. What he felt here were just teething pains, a sniffle before a brutal bout of man-flu!<br/><br/>The pills were short lived, like a shot in a shady nightclub, if wanted to avoid losing that human buzz to the static feedback of a broken mind then you needed, really, to keep yourself clocked over with something with much more of a kick. And, well, they didnâ€™t come any kick-ier than this.<br/><br/>Clay was meant to take a shot before bed, that was the protocol, a needle as long as a vultures gaze and twice as mean, something with half a babies bottle of mustard coloured liquid hooked up to the end, to be taken directly in the base of the spine before lights out.<br/>Guaranteed to freak  out roommates and charm the ladies.<br/><br/>Coincidentally a T-rex worthy shot was the last thing on your mind when you hit the sack at 2AMâ€¦ after chatting to a teenage girl online whose real name was probably Dave (but with a DP like THAT who was Clay to risk that chance!? Fair play, he was going by the name â€˜Becca_kissâ€™ himself, but goddammit, it was the start of the most beautiful lesbian romance you ever did saw!!).<br/><br/>Well, he wasnâ€™t about to make that mistake again. At least not for another week.<br/><br/>He shuddered and pulled his blankets around himself turning into Clayton Parsons The Human Taco.<br/><br/>Someone called his name from outside the door.<br/><br/>Apparently he hadnâ€™t made himself clear enough, he ducked his head down and let blanket consume him, â€œNOPE!â€ he hollered back a little muffled, but in this house â€˜nopeâ€™ was like waltzing up to the door, guiding them in by the arm and pointing them to the nibbles and mini bar! No such thing as privacy in Satans Youth Hostel. Even locks didnâ€™t last long before a stray streak of fire got â€˜em or someone bust clean through the wood Hereâ€™s-Johnny style!