"Hello, My name is Antonio I'm Nineteen years of age and I just moved to Britain"
Quincey's smile had indicated to him that he had indeed spoken that sentence in perfect English, proud of himself the young Spanish man beamed in confidence as Victoria's distant yell of "DINNER!" drafted down the narrow corridors.
"Looks like dinner's ready then" Antonio mused in perfect English Quincey was truly proud of his progress yet before Antonio could bolt out of the door ready to share more "English" with the others, Quincey caught him with a firm hand. Using what strength he had Quincey flipped the Spanish man around to face him.
"You should, just be mindful at dinner" he began to explain his wide eyes rolling everywhere and not settling on one place in particular as he tried to explain this too Antonio yet nothing came to mind, the only thing he could do was stride over to small shelf by the blue bed.
He picked up the mask.
"I'm ready to face them" Antonio muttered, his face bare and radiating in a smug confidence his scars seemed to stick out particularly as the orange rays of sun illuminated his tanned face.
"No" Quincey said firmly, his mind set as he approached Antonio, "You should wear this until your fluent in English enough" Quincey knew his sentence made no sense at all and so did Antonio. "Why don't you want people to see these?" He concluded instantly glaring at Quincey as he pointed at the gouges that tore down his face.
Quincey couldn't reply, his eyes found the thin brown carpet as his gaze locked on the tiny dust particles settling onto the fibres of the carpet.
"You... think I'm... one of them!? Don't you!?" Antonio demanded.
Quincey looked up.
"You might be" he told him honestly.
Antonio looked down, his confidence evaporating "I don't..." he began before he sighed "I... don't turn... but" he gestured the scars on his face "Why aren't these healing?" he begged.
"I don't know, but I think you're a carrier dude"
Antonio gave him a blank look, either he didn't understand the word carrier or it's concept so Quincey tried to explain him to gently "It means if those wounds aren't healing you probably are infected with what those things have, but you're not like them".
"You're making... no sense" Antonio said quizzically, Quincey was still amazed how quickly he had grasped the English language and was muttering full sentences now he had figured that the young man was very clever and he knew that if Antonio was clever he had figured it out too.
"You know what I mean Antonio, you know you are infected that's why your wearing the mask, that's why you're speaking so much Spanish when I know you more English than you let on. You won't let anyone see your scars before they'll come to same conclusion I have..." Antonio looked shell shocked at his words and Quincey was amazed at himself of how accurately he had analysed this mysterious character, before he ploughed on.
He pulled a trail of saliva from between his lips, Antonio watched the clear substance seemingly hypnotized by it "All it takes Antonio..." Quincey began as he said this a dollop of his saliva fell and landed on the carpet.
"...Is one drop" he concluded.
"DINNER! COME ON YOU TWO!" Victoria's voice was getting closer .
"I didn't want this, I only came here for Uni" Antonio muttered in a small voice.
"None of us wanted this" Quincey snarled before without any warning he grabbed Antonio by the throat and slammed he against the wall, Antonio could only choke in surprise as Quincey whispered the next words into his ear.
"So keep this to your damn self, keep your spit, your piss, your spunk all to your fucking self? You hear me? Because if one of us turns it won't be Steph who gets to you first. Remember I'm letting you walk around here when you are an accident waiting to happen I could kill you, but I won't as long as don't infect anyone do you understand?"
Antonio nodded in horror at Quincey's unexpected switch in mood as Quincey slowly released him Antonio rubbed his neck softly, Antonio covered himself in his old black mask once again while Quincey faced the floor still panting slightly not sure what had come over him.
Yet as cruel as he seemed, to him it was the nicest thing to do.
Antonio was one of the "Black Dead" the mask ironically showed what he was meant to be, a black mask, like the blood coated black faces of the dead. As long as Antonio kept that mask on and kept himself hidden and isolated the black masked infiltrator of the zombies below wasn't a threat.
He was threat if he mingled.
He couldn't feel guilt as a downtrodden Antonio trudged his way to dinner his head hung low in shame. Antonio felt like a prisoner, submissive under Quincey's threat, Yet he was a prisoner the minute he had been scratched.
The rest of the group just didn't know it yet.