Knock on the door

You knock on the door lightly and you notice that it is slightly ajar. It won't hurt to take a look right?

It's surprisingly dark inside, the window shutters closed and no lamp to speak of turned on. It's messy, empty tin cans and glass bottles in piles on the floor. Half empty plates tower by the sink, flies feeding on the oily food. You check the fridge out of curiosity, and you immediatly regret you did. The only thing resembling freshness in the room is a bowl of oranges, which look surprisingly delicious. You're halfway to grabbing one when you hear something coming from the bathroom at the back. You sneak slowly towards it, your arm grabbing for the door handle, turning it with a little twist, the crack between in the door slowly opening, and you see in the darkness...

An infected girl pissing while sitting on the toilet.

Her gray skin that's dotted with yellow scabs is a dead giveaway. She looks just as surprised as you are, as you stumble backwards. To your surprise, she doesn't attack or attempt to try to have sex with you. It talks in a gurgling voice:

"Doesn't anyone ever knock anymore?! Fucks sake!" She doesn't seem to notice that you're staring at her plump figure. Her snatch is leaking yellowy piss.

You apologise quickly and shut the door, letting her finish her business. After a couple minutes she exits, wearing shorts that barely contain her hips, and a buttoned up flannel shirt.

"Bah, you should knock when before you open doors willi nilly!" Looking over her a second time, you notice that she's missing her left arm at the shoulder, in its place a plastic prosthetic with a hook where her hand would be. "Wha' you lookin' at, nevah' seen a girl with a hook for a hand before?" You tell her that no, no you haven't, nor an infected that can talk or think for itself.

"Psh, well I never seen a man tha' wasn't a complete wanker, and you're not changin' my opinion right now." She chortles as she walks over to the orange bowl and spears one with the tip of her hook, spinning it as she peels it in a spiral shape.

You ask her what her name is, and then a whole bunch of other question in rapid succession. How is she talking? Why is she out here by herself? What's with the camper van?

"Whoah, whoah, alright, one question at a time, sheesh. You're acting like this is such a big deal. My names Stacey Shale, and to answer the other ones, don't know, I'm not, and I don't care, and you're a tosser. So how about you either fuck me of get out." Guess she still has her full infected libido.