[ WP ] During the zombie apocalypse , humans discoverses they can bite zombies to turn them back to normal

This is my first ever submission to Writing Prompts and my first ever attempt at a story. Feedback appreciated! 
 
 Jasco had obviously fallen while running through the dark Canadian forest in the night. His leg was in the most intense pain he had ever experienced and he was not sure if it was broken, sprained, or just plain messed up. As he fell to the ground he looked towards the slowly advancing Pastor foaming at the mouth with the contagion. The Pastor that had taken in the refugees who stumbled into this tiny village on Vancouver Island. Where peace was to be found among the anarchy and chaos that this disease had brought. As the Pastor approached Jasco took deep breaths to calm himself and his mind flashed to what had happened in the last few months. No one had seen what was coming. How could this even be real? He had watched the news reports on the tv as first New York, Washington D.C. and eventually all the great cities of North America fell silent under a mysterious new disease. Governments panicked as the people rioted and the disease spread at an impossibly fast rate. Canada attempted to shut it ’ s own borders with the United States but it was too late. Toronto was already torn asunder and the contagion had spread as far west as Calgary. No one really knew what was going on. There were countless talking head ‘ experts ’ who weighed in on the situation. Old military generals, nurses, doctors, and police officers. All that anyone could say for sure was that once a person was bitten by someone who had been overcome by the contagion; they themselves would succumb and begin biting others. Jasco watched with horror as videos surfaced on the internet and on tv of people infected with this disease biting one another in the streets of once civilized cities. At first the networks tried to censor the carnage, but soon they made no effort to stem the violent images flashing across the screens of Canadian homes. In a panic Jasco considered leaving his home on the mainland British Columbia coast and fleeing to Vancouver island with the stream of refugees heading west. The allegedly regrouped military was supposed to be mobilising to protect the island as a holdout in Canada ’ s west according to the rumours coming from the refugees. Jasco packed his bags, taking food, a small hatchet, water, his knife, a flashlight, some rope, and a small tent and went to join the refugees. Things had not worked out as planned. Of the thousands of boats and the packed ferries heading to the island, it was an improbability that an infected person would not enter one of the budding ‘ refugee camps ’ that had propped up along the islands coasts. These shanty towns, old towns taken over by refugees with innumerable tents pitched in the township, were more like wild west towns of old where people stole what they needed to survive. Murder, rape, and worse were rumoured to happen in these places according to the other refugees and people smugglers. Still better than facing off a crazed person infected with the mysterious contagion. The crimes and atrocities in these shanty towns were committed by quickly formed gangs of refugees that fed upon the desperation of those who were arriving. The Military, the Mounties, and any vestiges of The Canadian Government were nowhere to be seen His family had survived off the supplies they had brought with them. Most arriving refugees were immediately looted. Fortunately for Jasco, the gangs that were searching the group of boats that he arrived in started fighting one another over who would ‘ own ’ one of the newly arrived females. The fight quickly escalated from shouts to shoving and finally someone pulled a gun. Soon both sides were shooting at one another, a stray bullet had hit the poor girl who was now lying in a pool of blood as the men around her fought on. People started running, others stood shocked, unable to cope with the new reality after decades of simple suburban life. Jasco grabbed his bag and ran towards into the nearbye forest. He walked for days, living off what food he had in his bags, and eventually came upon a small town whose largest building was a white steepled church. The little village was so quiet compared to where Jasco ’ s had landed and the carnage on television. The town ’ s Pastor, who seemed to be leading others, came out and greeted him, offering refuge. Jasco was not the religious type, but most of the congregation was doing what they deemed “ godly duties ” for Jasco and a few other refugees who had arrived survived by the items the congregation had shared with them. Thus far very few refugees arrived in the village. Things had been nice for a few days. A whole week passed before someone came out of the forests to the south of the town. They had just come from one of the shantytowns and were screaming about how everyone had become infected. The Pastor, ushered the refugee who called himself Tom into the church to rest. That had been a mistake, one thing led to another and soon the entire congregation was infected. Jasco had awoken in the night to the sounds of screaming. He had been staying near the church in his tent. He peeked through the flap in his tent to see what was going on. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. People were climbing over one another to bite each other. It was a total clusterfuck. What he had seen in those terrible videos was happening in front of this eyes. He grabbed his bag and started shoving what he could into it. He had thought of making sure everything was packed incase he had to leave quickly, he had neglected to do so and cursed himself for it now as he fumbled around in the dark of his tent. Sounds of panic bouncing off his tent ’ s nylon sides, seeming to surround him. “ Fuck it ” Jasco muttered as he gave up on packing his bag. He grabbed his water bottle, filled from the town's well earlier that day and his hatchet and ran into the night. He did n't look where he was going and soon fell over an overturned log. 
 
 Why was he thinking about this now? Jasco came back from his holiday into the memory of past few months. The Pastor was only meters from him now. He had lost his hatched and water bottle somewhere in the brush and as the Pastor came closer he felt that he was low on options. The Pastor fell upon him, like a felled tree. Soon they were tumbling in the dark. Jasco was holding both the Pastor ’ s arms back and had managed to roll on top of him. They were facing each other and the moonlight reflected off the Pastors face. The Pastor ’ s once kind eyes now looked empty and the Pastor ’ s mouth was sneering, foaming with the contagion. Jasco was in a full panic, this is the end he thought. One of the Pastor ’ s arms slipped away and a hand reached towards Jasco ’ s face. In desperation Jasco did the only thing he could, he bit the hand of the Pastor as hard as he could. He could feel the bones between his teeth and the Pastor started to seize violently. The Pastor suddenly gained superhuman strength and slammed Jasco into the ground. Jasco ’ s head hit a rock in the undergrowth. The sounds of the chaos around Jasco faded as everything went dark. A few hours later sunlight hit Jasco ’ s face. Next to him the Pastor was groaning. Jasco quickly crawled away from the Pastor, trying to avoid hurting his leg. He could see no other people, contaminated or not, nearby. Suddenly the Pastor looked up at Jasco, whose heart immediately skipped a beat. “ What happened? ” asked the Pastor. After a shocked silence Jasco whispered back “ I have no idea.. ”
