05/11/2015
'...we urge all civilians to stay indoors at all times unless absolutely necessary. We do not yet know the cause but those trapped in their homes from the recent flooding have been attacking anyone who tries to approach them upon being helped out. It appears they have some form of rabies and some even show signs of necrosis. Once again we urge everyone to stay inside, lock all door and windows and stay safe until more information is given..."

05/15/2015
'...After numerous tests, doctors have decided this is not an outbreak of rabies or a sudden rise in sufferers of necrosis. It is a new disease, undiscovered until now. The cause and origin is unknown, but it is believed it started after the flooding just a few weeks ago...'

05/21/2015
'...While the cause of infection is not known, it has been discovered that it is contracted through the transfer of bodily fluids such as saliva and blood. If the fluid comes into contact with an open wound or orifice, it is highly recommended that it is disinfected as soon as possible. If left too long, there is a high chance that the person will also contract the infection. The preferred method to transfer the infection is through biting. It breaks the skin and the infection gets into the bloodstream through saliva...'

05/29/2015
'...More tests have been performed and it was recently discovered that the infection is caused by a bacteria which was first contracted by drinking infected water. The bacteria feeds on flesh shuts down parts of the brain. The closest description I have is that of stereotypical 'zombies'. It is of the utmost importance that if you see anyone you suspect of being infected that you do not approach them...'

06/11/2015
'...People should begin to evacuate. The infection has spread throughout the state and more people than ever are in danger. If you can, leave California and head East...'

06/14/2015
'...It takes around five days for the infection to take hold. It is unpredictable. If you think someone is infected, do not stay with them for long. They will become too dangerous. Don't try to touch them, or even go near, because when the infection takes over their first instinct will be to attack...'

06/26/2015
'...There are only two ways to kill an infected; either destroy the heart, or the brain. Any other form of injury will simply slow them...'

07/2/2015
'...The infection is spreading unbelievably fast. There is no hope of survival. I'm sorry, but if someone is infected, you cannot save them. It is best to just end it...'

07/14/2015
'...Almost all of the US has been taken over by the infected. I don't know about the rest of the world but the US is in ruins. Nowhere is safe...'

07/17/2015
'...I don't know if anyone even gets these anymore. Do the TV's and radios even work? I've been holed up in the studio since this all started. I try to help by giving people information but I don't know how many actually hear this. Anyway, there's supposed to be a safe zone in Colorado. Alamosa I think...'

07/27/2015
'...Most of the power lines are down so...but if anyone can hear this please...whatever you do don't go to Iowa. It isn't safe...the infected are...and stronger...if anyone is still alive I have a...they're breaking in. I can hear them...shit, they're right outside...there's so many... can't hold them off...oh my God-'

2: Ch. 1

'...While the cause of infection is not known, it has been discovered that it is contracted through the transfer of bodily fluids such as saliva and blood. If the fluid comes into contact with an open wound or orifice, it is highly recommended that it is disinfected as soon as possible. If left too long, there is a high chance that the person will also contract the infection. The preferred method to transfer the infection is through biting. It breaks the skin and the infection gets into the bloodstream through saliva...'
"What a load of rubbish," a large, burly man scoffed. "It spreads that easily? Yeah, right." His disbelief was clear on his deeply lined face.
A small, dark-haired woman sat beside him on the sofa. She sighed heavily. "Come on, dad, it's possible." She spoke in a quiet, sweet voice. "Don't be so skeptical of the media." The woman's hand curled around the TV remote, but she didn't turn it back on. Her father was annoyed enough as it was without more information from the News. Whatever was going on, her father didn't like it.
"Those news reporters just like to exaggerate everything," he replied gruffly, shaking his head. He had never been one of those people who believed everything the saw; the News, although supposed to be true, was just like all other media: over the top and fake.
"Why would the media make this up? It's been all over the news for weeks and you've seen the evidence." They lived only a few miles from the place where this had all started. The government had sectioned it off to avoid spread, but it had happened anyway.
The man huffed. "It's hardly as bad as they're making out," he responded gruffly.
The woman rolled her eyes and said nothing. Instead, she got to her feet. "I'm going to see if mom needs help in the garden." Better to leave her father alone when he was in a mood.
She walked through the arch joining the kitchen to the living room, grabbed her sunglasses, and made her way outside through the patio doors into the colourful, expansive garden. Her mother was kneeling by a flowerbed, digging up weeds with a small trowel. She didn't notice her daughter until she was right beside her.
"Hey, mom. Need a hand?"
The older woman glanced up, surprised by her daughter's sudden appearance. She smiled, accepting the offer. "Sure, Georgia. Could you start over there?" She gestured to the other side of the bed.
Nodding, the redhead knelt beside the flowers and picked up the small trowel. The two women worked in silence for a moment before Georgia spoke. "Have you seen the news report?"
Her response was a nod. "Yes. It seems like things are getting serious."
"Dad isn't convinced. He thinks the media are being dramatic," Georgia noted with a small laugh. Georgia herself wasn't sure what to think. On one hand, it was clear the infection was getting worse. It was getting harder to contain those with the disease, and more people were becoming affected everyday. However, things didn’t seem much different than normal. The infection was limited to three blocks and when someone did slip under the radar, someone else was always there to get things back under control.
The older woman shook her head. "Tell me about it. The evidence is staring him right in the face and he still thinks it's bullshit. Hand me that potted plant." She leaned over to take the small clump of red flowers from her daughter's outstretched hand. "Thanks." She busied herself with removing it from the pot and carefully placing it in the soft soil in front of her. "Anyway; whatever he's been telling you, ignore him." She looked at her daughter with a knowing smile. "He's just being a skeptic."
Georgia's thoughts drifted to her father as she dug a small hole in the soil and sprinkled seeds. "Maybe he has a point." She raised a brow when her mother gave her a questioning look. "What? I'm just saying; so far it's all been handled really well. And there are people all over California researching to find a cure. Things don't seem as bad as it supposedly is."
The conversation came to a standstill. Neither women quite knew what to say. They both had very different ideas about what the situation was. Georgia, ever the optimist, believed everything would eventually turn out fine. Her mother, however, had more realistic expectations. Things were more complicated than simply biding time until a cure was found.
"Can you get me the seed bags from the shed, please?" Sara spoke after a few minutes. The two women didn't continue their earlier conversation. Rather, they seemed to have run out of things to say.
Nodding, the dark-haired woman got to her feet, wiping her hands on her blue shorts. The shed was at the other end of the large garden, almost hidden by two large cherry trees. Their dark green leaves hung over the door and partly covered the roof like a green blanket.
Once inside, Georgia searched for the seeds. The shed was a mess - tools were tossed haphazardly on the shelves, a rusted car bonnet lay against the far wall, leaning precariously over a small box of old plant pots, and bits of debris littered the floor. It was in dire need of a clear out.
The young woman carefully stepped over a broken lawnmower, putting a hand against the wall to steady herself. She scanned the first shelf for the small bags, but found none. Moving to the side, she searched the second. And there they were on the top shelf, just out of her reach. She stood on her toes to try to reach, fingertips just brushing the bottom of the bag.
An impossibly loud, high-pitched scream came from outside the shed. Georgia stumbled, nearly tripping over the lawnmower as she let out a small shriek of her own. She stood, unmoving, for a long moment before she carefully crept to the shed's entrance, poking her head around.
"What happened?" she asked her mother, who was standing at the fence between gardens. "Someone screamed."
Sara nodded mutely. "It came from inside Judie's house." Her voice was quiet, strained.
Georgia joined her mother at the fence, standing on toes to glance over. Since the single scream, everything had gone silent. There were no telltale signs of a break in or attack of any kind. Nothing seemed wrong at all.
"Should I-" Georgia was cut off as someone grabbed her arm painfully tight, sharp nails digging in to her soft skin. She yelped and tore her arm away, whipping around to see her assaulter. It was a middle-aged man with a skinny build and mop of thinning ginger hair which fell about his face in greasy chunks. His face was swollen and the veins around his eyes and temples stood out against pale gray skin. His eyes, perhaps the most striking thing about him, were wide and unblinking, a milky yellow-white.
The man lurched towards her again, arms outstretched as if to try to grab the woman and choke her. His bloated face was twisted in anger, puffy eyes scrunched into a glare. He stumbled, wavering for a moment before reaching out again.
"Get inside. Now." Sara's voice was tense as she pulled her daughter away from the man. "He's infected."
Georgia didn't budge. She stared, transfixed as the man tried to maneuver past a tall hedge, the only thing keeping him away from the two women. She had never seen an infected up close before; he looked horrific. His off-white eyes stared unblinkingly and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a silent snarl. Thick drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.
The man overcame his obstacle and began to limp towards the women again. A guttural war cry escaped his dry, cracked lips as he grasped at thin air.
Sara grabbed a trowel lying on the garden table and wielded it like a dagger. "Go inside," she repeated, voice high with tension. The man lurched forward another step, a hand only inches from her face. She jerked to the side, narrowly missing the sharp nails and clenched fist.
Before Georgia could register what was going on, another pair of arms grabbed her from behind, wrapping tightly around her slim neck. A low, animalistic snarl emitted from her captor as he dragged her backwards. She shrieked loudly, small hands grasping at the thick arms as she gasped for air. The arms responded by tightening their choke hold.
The other woman spun around and made a mad dash for her daughter, grabbing the infected by the scruff of the neck and yanking him backwards with surprising force for such a small woman.
"Go!" she gasped breathlessly.
Both infected were close on their heels as the two women sprinted to the house. Adam met them at the door, brow scrunched in confusion. "What's going on?" he demanded. "I heard screaming."
Georgia was about to say 'infected', when one of them stumbled up behind her and grasped her arm with one disfigured hand. She spun around and kicked him away, gasping. Tears sprung to her eyes.
Adam ushered his family inside and locked the French doors as quickly as possible. He stared at the two swollen, gray skinned faces before drawing the curtains with forced calm. Dull thuds could be heard as the infected pounded on the glass.
"Call the police. Tell them infected have broken through their containment," he instructed Georgia. They would take the infected away and find out how they escaped through the safety barrier at the river.
She nodded and hurried to the kitchen. The woman dialled 911 and waited, but no one picked up. She hastily re-dialled, fingers slipping on the buttons.
A cool, toneless female voice spoke. The answering machine.
She slapped the phone down on the receiver with more force than necessary and swallowed back a sob.
And suddenly, a cold, frightening realization settled into the pit of her stomach. Why hadn't the neighbours arrived to help? Surely they would have heard something and came to their aid, or at least satisfy their curiosity about what was going on? But no one had so much as knocked on the door to check they were alright.
There was an ear-piercing noise of glass shattering from the living room, followed by muffled groaning and wheezing.
The dark-haired woman jumped and tripped backwards, gasping. She stumbled into the living room, eyed wide, heart racing.
The two infected men - one tall and gangly, the other with the muscles of a bodybuilder - stood in the living room, surrounded by shattered glass and shredded curtain. Georgia's father stood in front of them, a gun held in his shaking hands.
"Please," he spoke, all the usual gruffness replaced by panicked pleading. "Don't make me shoot you. I don't want to hurt anybody."
He caught sight of his daughter and his brow knitted together. "Georgia, get your mother and stay in the kitchen. You should be safe in there until the police arrive."
The police weren't going to arrive, but there was no time to tell him. They both backed out the door and Adam slammed it shut so hard it reverberated on its hinges. He snatched a dining chair and shoved it under the door handle.
Georgia did as she was told, running to her mother, who was looking out the window by the front door, eyes glued to something outside.
The street was chaos. Men and woman wandered aimlessly in every direction, white eyes staring endlessly at nothing. Two women with guns stood protectively in front of a young child as several infected closed in upon them. Somewhere in the distance, a tall pillar of smoke billowed up, blocking out the sun.

-----

A tall, muscular black man sat on a leather sofa, a small boy sitting beside him as they watched TV together. In the next room, a slender woman with dyed blonde hair sat on a yoga mat, stretching her arms out in front of her.

"Dylan, turn that off. Taylor's far too young for that," the woman frowned disapprovingly at the crime show on the television.

The boy grumbled, lips forming a pout. "But mom!"

The man known as Dylan smirked. "C'mon kid, your mom's right. You won't sleep tonight if you watch this." He picked up the remote and changed the channel. The gory scene of an autopsy changed to the football.

Taylor whined again, but this time he said nothing. He was only young, but knew not to argue with his parents. Instead, he sunk down into his seat and focused on the game.

A comfortable silence settled over the family. The woman got to her feet and cleared away the yoga mat before settling down beside her son.

"Can I go and play outside? Aiden said he'd be free tonight."

"I'd say so. What about you, Maddie?" The man smiled as he turned to his wife.

She thought about it a moment before replying. They lived in a safe neighbourhood, but with the recent infection problem she was hesitant to let her child outside alone. "Alright," she said finally. "But only for half an hour. And not any further than Aiden's house, okay?" She smiled at her son.

"Yes! Thanks!" Taylor jumped to his feet and all but ran to the front door. He hurried to put on his shoes as his parents watched in amusement.

"Remember, back by half seven!" Maddie called as he exited the house. Her stomach churned as she watched him leave, and she bit her lip.

Dylan wrapped an arm around his wife's waist reassuringly, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. "He'll be fine, don't worry," he told her.

She nodded and gave a half-hearted smile. Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes. "I know," she responded simply. Even so, she couldn't help but worry. They were close to the safety barrier that contained the infected, and it always set her nerves on edge knowing her son was so close. But never once had an infected breached the barrier and came to their part of town. Once or twice one had wandered over to Walnut Street or even closer, Harrison Street, but never to their part of town.

"Do you hear that?" Maddie asked after a moment. She could have sworn she heard a scratching noise. "Don't tell me we have mice again."

Dylan couldn't hear a thing. He shrugged it off. He changed the channel, and an action movie came on-screen. A shoot out between two characters fighting in a hospital.

The scratching noise persisted. Maddie got up off her seat and glanced around. "No, really, I can hear something. It's coming from the hall." The woman opened the living room door and peered into the hall. Nothing looked out of place.

She heard a quiet groaning sound from the front door. Frowning, she padded over in her bare feet to shift the curtains and look through the glass.

A swollen, gray face was pressed up against the door, blank white eyes staring. There was a bullet embedded in its shoulder which seeped red blood onto a ripped cream dress.

The woman screamed and jumped back, almost tripping over her own feet. The curtain fell back over the glass, but the figure of the woman was still visible.

"What's wrong?" Dylan rushed into the hall, wrapping a protective arm around his wife as she stared, open-mouthed at the door.

"I-I don't know. There's someone at the door. They..." she trailed off, choking on a sob.

Dylan hesitantly approached the door and drew back the curtain. The woman was still there, matted brown hair clinging to her pasty face, thin mouth lifted into a silent snarl.

Dylan stepped back, fists clenched. "Shit, she's infected." He turned around and ushered his wife back into the living room. "Stay here. The police will be here to deal with her soon," he reassured.

"What about Taylor?"

The comment made his blood run cold. Taylor and his friend were playing outside. As far as he knew, the children were completely oblivious to the infected woman.

"It's okay. As long as she stays where she is, Taylor will be fine," he said certainly, glancing into the hall to make sure the woman was still there. She was.

"But what if there's more. There could be loads of infected. What if he's out there now and someone's attacking him or he's-"

"Enough!" Dylan shouted, clenching his large fists. He sighed when he saw his wife's surprised look, and rubbed his temples. "Sorry. Dwelling on it isn't going to help, is all." He apologized. He was worried, too, but everything was under control.

And then he heard the first scream. It lasted barely a few seconds, but it was enough to freeze both adults in place, stunned into silence.

"What the fuck?" the man blurted, eyes widening.

They stood in silence, but then there was another scream, and another, and another, until they all merged together, forming a choir of high-pitched cries.

"Oh my God, what's happening!?" Maddie clutched her husband's arm tightly, afraid to look outside.

The burly man shook his head silently. Slowly, he creeped over to the window. Two men stood at the other side of the street, swaying slightly as they reached arms out to a young teenage girl in hungry impatience.

Another infected lurched past, its thick hands clasping a bloodied hand. It chewed something in its mouth, crimson blood dripping down its chin.

"We have to find Taylor," the woman repeated as she watched in horror.

This time, Dylan didn't say anything. It would be suicide to go outside, but he wasn't leaving his son. Mutely, he moved to the cabinets beside the sofa and pulled out a 1991 Colt pistol.

"You're not seriously going to shoot anyone?" Maddie gasped.

Dylan shrugged. "They're not people anymore, Mads. They're... things. I don't even know if they feel pain."

Maddie said nothing as she watched her husband shove the gun in the waistband of his jeans. As he moved to the door she followed, hands shaking and legs wobbling.

They stood beside each other as they prepared themselves to go outside. Before either of them had a chance to change their minds, Dylan threw open the front door.

Grabbing his wife's hand, Dylan ran into the infected-ridden street.

-----

A tall, red-haired male groaned as he attempted to carry five large shopping bags, each straining to hold its contents. He momentarily set three down to fumble one-handed with the set of silver keys to his small bungalow. The man managed to open the door and elbow it open, before picking up his bags and trudging into the narrow hallway.

Dumping the shopping unceremoniously onto the kitchen table, the redhead flicked on the kettle and took out a large, plain blue mug. He added a hefty dose of instant coffee and one sugar as he waited for the kettle to boil.

With that done, he flopped onto the old sofa and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. He had spent the majority of the day at work, dealing with one particular customer who was adamant she had been overcharged. He was not in the mood to do anything else productive for the rest of the evening. No, he would worry about customers later. For now, he was going to relax.

The kettle gave a quiet 'ping', signalling it was ready. The man slowly heaved himself to his feet and made his way over to the kitchen counter, where he proceeded to pour hot water into the mug. He left it black, needing it as strong as possible. He took a sip, wincing as his tongue touched the boiling hot liquid.

He yawned as he made his slow way to the bedroom, blowing on the top of his coffee.

A quiet creaking noise brought his attention to the main hallway. He paused, listening attentively. There was the quiet sound of feet on carpet for a split second before everything went silent. After a minute of nothing he shrugged, deciding he must have imagined the sound. Yawning again, he continued on his way.

Setting the mug down on the small wooden desk, he opened up his wardrobe, searching for a clean jumper. There wasn't one. He turned around and scanned the messy floor, shifting a pile of clothes with a foot. Still nothing.

There was that noise again. The quiet, almost unnoticeable sound of movement. One, two, three, and then nothing. There was a pause before the shuffling footsteps continued, heading towards the kitchen.

The man frowned, trying to remember if he had locked the front door. No, he didn't think he had. The realization hit him suddenly, and he took a sharp intake of breath. Someone was in his house, walking around as if they had the free reign.

"Ryan? Are you in?" The voice startled him and he jumped, before rolling his eyes at himself. His beating heart was still thumping in his chest, but there was no need to be worried. It was just his neighbour. He was so relieved to know he wasn't being broken into, that he didn't notice the strained tone of voice of the other man.

"Yes?" Ryan smiled slightly as he wandered into the hall. A short, stocky man in a yellowish-green t-shirt stood in his kitchen doorway, brow knitted together in a deep frown. "Andy? What's wrong?" Ryan's smile dropped as soon as he saw his neighbour's expression.

The sturdy man bit his lip, unsure of what to say. "I saw that Lucy Crow a few minutes ago. You know, from the next street over?"

"Yeah, so?" Ryan didn't see the big deal. He groaned inwardly. Why had he come over just to mention the fact he had seen his long-time crush? It was nothing special.

"Wasn't she one of the people who were detained? You know, because they were infected." He looked up, dark eyes sullen.

Oh. That was right. She had been one of the poor people who had become infected after the flood had taken out part of the street a few miles away. She had stayed over at her Grandparents' at the time. But all the infected had been sectioned off to avoid spread, until a more permanent solution was found. It was extremely contagious, and so far incurable.

Ryan's face scrunched up into a grimace. "Did you go over to her?" From what others had told him, people with the disease could be volatile. Something to do with it affecting parts of the brain. It was dangerous to get too close; they couldn't be reasoned with.

Nodding his head, Andy shuddered. "Yeah. Her eyes were all weird - like she was blind or something. And she was all bloated. How bodies look when they're drowned, you know?"

Ryan shuddered at the thought. He didn't know the full extent of what the infection did, but he knew it was disgusting and didn't want to see someone with it up close. Frowning, he stated what he thought was the obvious. "Did you phone the police? Or an ambulance?" Then the woman could be taken back to the hospital, or wherever it was the infected people stayed until a more permanent solution was found. The longer they waited, the higher the risk of her infecting someone else.

Andy shook his head sheepishly. "I never thought. I freaked out, and your place was closest so..." he trailed off, expression distant. "But I think someone else did. Someone across the street saw her, too."

The taller man sighed. "Stay here until it's all sorted out." He wasn't enthralled about Andy staying; he had an irritatingly high voice that never quieted and reeked of tobacco. The smell would cling to his house for hours. But he didn't wish any ill on the man, and it seemed unfair to ask him to leave.

Ryan turned, back to the man, as he snatched up his keys. Better not leave the door unlocked. Behind him, the neighbour kept on talking.

"...so you think everything'll be alright? I mean, last time an infected person got free, they bit someone, didn't they? A whole family ended up the same way." His voice rose a notch, and Ryan had the sudden notion of a man inhaling helium.

The redhead made his way into the hall, nodding as he half listened. "Yeah. Three adults and a kid or somethi-" He stopped short as he saw the plump woman his hall. Her pasty, swollen face slowly turned to look at him, mouth gaping as if surprised to see him there.

"Ryan? Something wrong?"

At the sound of the words, the woman's once pretty face contorted into a snarl, pale lips pulled back to reveal small white teeth.
Ryan stared, wide-eyed, as the bloated woman suddenly came to life, reaching for the two men with chubby fingers. He stumbled back as a guttural, feral groan left her lips.

"Andy! Get back!" Ryan warned as the stocky man emerged from the kitchen.

"What is i- oh." He gawked, dumbstruck at the infected woman. "Shit, that's her."

Ryan had noticed. He moved back as the woman advanced, saliva and blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

The two men inched backwards, only to feel their backs bump against the cold wall.

Andy withdrew a small pistol from the pocket of his shabby jacket, fumbling off the safety with trembling fingers. He aimed, and one thick finger pressed down on the trigger.

The shot rang out, unbearably loud in the tiny space. Ryan's hands snapped up to his head, covering his ears. "What was that for? Don't shoot her!" Ryan's eyes darted over, and his body tensed as he saw she was still standing. There was a gaping hole in the side of her neck, exposing muscle and tissue. Blood spurted, spraying the carpet with crimson. But she didn't even seem fazed. In fact, the injury that should have been fatal only angered her more. She lurched forwards with sudden speed, girlish features twisted into a look of pure rage. Her pudgy hands latched into Andy's wrist and pulled him forwards, grip so hard her long nails pierced his skin.

The man yelled, pulling frantically against her, but his sweaty hands just slipped, unable to get a proper hold on her. The woman leaned forwards, so close he could smell her rotten breath, and bit down hard on his bicep. He screamed, wrenching his arm away.

Ryan shoved the woman away as he took Andy by the shoulder, trying to see the damage. The bite had torn flesh and exposed part of the muscle. A good chunk of flesh was entirely gone. The man whimpered, clutching on to Ryan as if his life depended on it.

The woman lunged again, nails scraping at Andy and Ryan. As she leaned, she toppled, falling. She grabbed Andy as if to steady herself, but dragged him down with her. He continued to yell as she landed on a heap on top of him, limbs flailing. Ryan instinctively rushed forwards to help him up, the amount of blood from both people's' wounds making him panic, but by the time he was beside Andy, the woman had clasped her teeth over his neck, tearing muscle away from the base where neck met shoulder. A shrill yell emitted from his mouth as more blood streamed down his torso, pooling on the floor and soaking into the carpet.

As the screams quieted, the woman struggled to her feet, eyes locked on Ryan. The man backed away, fumbling for the door handle to his bedroom. He glanced behind her to see Andy, lying still. He found the door handle and threw open his door, dashing inside the room and slamming it shut behind him.

The woman pounded on the door, causing it to vibrate as fists met wood. The pounding stopped, and he heard footsteps as the infected woman lumbered away. Ryan slid to the floor, resting his head on his hands as he let out a strangled gasp. He closed his eyes, a thin trickle of tears running down his cheek.

3: Ch. 2

"Mom, we need to go," Georgia gently nudged her mother away from the window, urging her to move away from the terrible scene. Her stomach twisted as she saw the two armed woman knocked to the side by an overweight infected man.

Together, the small family sprinted to the kitchen. Adam slammed the door behind him, clumsily fumbling with the simple lock, large hands damp with sweat.

Another infected stood at the window, staring with terrifyingly blank eyes. One bloody hand reached up to claw at the window, face forming a soundless snarl. There was thick, clotted blood in the man's hair, plastering the greasy locks to his puffy face. He smacked his head against the glass as if to break it, leaving dark red streaks.

Georgia and Sara backed away, the older woman protectively holding an arm out in front of her daughter. The infected man's blank eyes followed them, watching.

"Shit! How did things get to bad so fast?" Adam growled, glaring at the man on the other side of the window. He snatched a knife from the kitchen counter, clasping it tightly in his huge hand.

Something brushed up against Sara's neck, and she gasped, jumping forwards. Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her backwards. The door joining the living room and kitchen stood open, forgotten in the chaos. The petite woman was dragged through, screaming. The chipped nails of the burly infected dug into her skin, drawing thin lines of blood. Sara let out a cry of pain as she tried to pull away.

Adam rushed forwards, knife raised. He let out a yell as the infected gripped Sara by the hair, pulling it tight. The man dragged her backwards again, her attempts at breaking free causing minimal struggle. Adam sprinted to her aid, hands clenched so tightly around the knife his knuckles turned white.

The large window overlooking the street exploded as a tall, thick woman in tattered sports clothing stumbled in, raining glass on the four people inside. Shards littered the pale carpet like a beach of glass, the woman paying no attention to the small sharp pieces as they pierced her feet. She reached out with chubby arms, fingers clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

Adam didn't have time to move before the woman's strong arms wrapped around his neck.

Georgia rushed to help, chunks of glass slicing her feet through the thin soles of her flats. She ignored the pain as she grabbed the man from behind.

"I can take care of her! Help your mother," Adam growled as he pushed the hands away from his throat.

The woman complied, casting her father a panicked look before sprinting to Sara.

The bulky man had the tiny redhead up against the wall, arms across her chest, constricting her breathing. His teeth were bared, thin lips pulled back in a snarl. Blood dripped from one corner.

Something sharp pierced Georgia's foot and she yelped. She cringed, feeling her sock become damp with blood. With barely a thought, she bent down to grasp the huge shard of glass nearly the size of her hand. Barely giving herself time to think, she rushed towards the infected.

At that exact moment, Adam broke free from the woman's vice-like grip by butting her with the hilt of the knife and twisting her arm, almost snapping bone. He pushed her and she toppled through the window, landing on her back outside.

But neither of them made it in time. The man pinning Sara finally overpowered her, and his rotting teeth sunk into the soft flesh of her shoulder. Blood pumped from the wound and the woman let out a shrill scream that reverberated against the walls. The infected man gripped her rapidly weakening body and tore a chunk out of her left side, just below the breast. The off white of bone stood out against the glistening blood.

With a furious yell, Adam lunged at the burly man, sinking the knife into his back so deep only the hilt was visible. The infected man made only a choked sound as he dropped to the floor. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and his white eyes rolled in their sockets.

Georgia stared at her mother as she sunk to the floor, making wet, struggling gasps as blood seeped from her mouth, mingling on the floor with the blood from the two deep wounds. Adam fell to the ground beside her, hand shaking as he tried to stem the bleeding.

Blinking, the dull haze over Georgia's mind cleared as she rushed to snatch two towels from the kitchen, heart in her throat. She returned and crouched by Sara, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. The sight of her mother on the ground - covered in blood, small body wracked by loud coughs - caused something in her to break. She began to sob, her whole body shaking. Weakly, she reached out to grasp Sara's hand.

Sara's eyes fluttered closed as a heavy, guttural cough caused her body to twitch painfully, and she gasped weakly. The red liquid bubbled from her mouth, dripping down her cheeks.

"Mom. I-it's going to be okay." But as the words left her mouth, it was evident that was not the case. Even though both Georgia and Adam were trying to stop the flow of thick red blood, she was losing it fast. No amount of towels were going to help.

Something took hold of Georgia and pulled her back, away from her mother. She let out a shrill scream, instinctively throwing her arms out to swat away whatever had a hold of her. And then the grasping hands were gone. The young woman looked over to see her father wrestling with one of the infected, the knife in one hand. Georgia had never expected her father to be capable of violence - yelling and general anger, yes, but not violence. But looking at the situation now, she saw that perhaps violence was the only way to ensure safety.

The woman watched in stunned horror as three more infected crowded her father. He was outnumbered, and even the sharp kitchen utensil was no good. Hands reached out as bloated, sickly pale bodies crowded him, blocking him off from his daughter and dying wife.

Georgia looked down at her mother, but her eyes were closed. Her hands flew to Sara's neck, but she couldn't find a pulse. Tears sprung to her eyes as she looked up again. She couldn't see her father now - there were too many people surrounding him.

Jumping to her feet, she grabbed the shard of glass from earlier and ran at the group. She didn't have time to think. If she did, surely she would back out at the last second. Her mind was racing as she pulled one of the infected away, grabbing the tall man by the shirt and yanking him with all her strength. Even then, he merely stumbled a few steps. Even with the adrenaline coursing through her, she wasn't strong enough.

"Dad!" she called, voice shaking. "Dad, are you okay?" She could see him, back pressed against the corner wall as he dug the knife deep into the shoulder of a short woman in a bloodied summer dress. Georgia hardly even registered what was going on. All she cared about was her father, who was fighting his way out of the group, and her mother, who was lying dead less than two metres away.

The short woman looked at the knife with a blank expression. For a moment, she looked almost hurt, before losing interest. With a snarl, she grabbed Adam's arm and lowered her face. The burly man tried to shake her off, but long nails dug into his skin, and as he tried to pull away, they ripped deep lines into his arm. His yell reverberated through the room as she bit into him, tearing sinew and flesh. She wasn't even fazed when the hilt of the knife struck the back of her neck.

The woman moved forwards. She had to help him. She didn't know how, but she had to. She couldn't lose him, too.

"Georgia."

The voice startled the woman, and she spun around, glass shard raised. Her fist came down on the large black man, before he caught her by the wrist.

"Woah, it's just me, Dylan." He let go of her wrist, still unsure of whether she would attack or not. "We have to get out of here. Those cannibals are all over the place."

"Not without my dad." She turned back around, but barely made two steps before she was pulled back.

"No way. It's too dangerous! I saw him get bit. Once you're bit, you're beyond help."

Georgia tried to yank her wrist free, but Dylan held fast. She was much smaller than him and he kept her back with no effort. She kept struggling, trying to free herself from his grasp as she choked back tears. "I have to help him!"

But almost exactly as she said it, it became clear that it would be impossible. Two infected had grabbed Adam by each arm, pinning him to the wall while a third loomed over him. Georgia could do nothing but watch as her father was overwhelmed by the group. One pivoted in a slow circle to face her, snarling loudly. Georgia just stared past him, entirely focused on her father as the infected advanced towards her.

"For Christ's sake, Georgia, come on!" Again, Dylan grasped her wrist and pulled her backwards, towards the door. She resisted, but much more weakly than before.

The swarm of infected had completely blocked Adam from view. There was a loud, agonized yell, which was quickly cut short as the infected crowded around him, tearing flesh from his body in bloody chunks.

It was too late to save him. The realization hit Georgia like a physical blow, and she stumbled back. Even when another infected saw her and began to lumber closer, she couldn't stop staring at the place her father had been. There was an impossible amount of blood drenching the floor, and soft pinkish red trails that could only be intestines.

This time, when Dylan urged her away from the scene, she didn't try to stop him. The utter panic from moments before was gone, replaced by a dull detachment from the world. It was as if she was in a dream. How could this be real? Everything had happened so fast, it was impossible to believe. She didn't realize she had begun crying again until she blinked, hot tears dripping onto her blue top.

They hurried outside, Georgia lagging behind. She could hear the group of infected getting closer behind her, but found it difficult to care. She just kept replaying her father's death in her head, and then her mother's. She should have helped them. She could have, but she didn't. And now they were both dead.

There was a shiny black SUV sitting just outside her home. It wasn't Dylan's, but he plucked the keys from his pocket and clicked the doors open. He got inside the driver's side, motioning for Georgia to join him. With a dull nod, she did.

Dylan shifted gears and was on the move before the passenger side door was even closed. Georgia turned and watched her house drift into the distance, and her chest tightened. That was her home, where she had lived for the past twelve years. She had spent her teenage years there, and part of her adult life. And now it was gone, along with her parents. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes as she looked away, unable to bear the sight of the ruined street.

Silence filled the car. Neither seemed to want to speak, both lost in their own thoughts. Georgia thought of her family. Her mother, who had always been so kind and carefree. Her father, who would do anything to make his family smile. And her brother, who was probably alone and scared in this new hell.

"We need to get my brother," Georgia stammered out, voice hoarse from crying.

Dylan's face scrunched into a frowned. "He's probably gone, too. The infection's spread to the whole of Fort Bragg - the radio said so."

"B-but if we're still alive, then he might be too." He was her only remaining family. If he was alright, she had to know. She had to know if he wasn't too, because not knowing would be torture.

The man's hands clenched tighter on the wheel and he wrinkled his nose, but nodded. "Fine. Where does he live?"

"School street."

There was more silence, only interrupted by Georgia's whimpers and quiet shuffling as she curled up on the seat, ignoring the seatbelt digging into her side. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window, feeling the rhythmic bumping of it against her head oddly soothing.

Within minutes they pulled up beside a small one-story house. Her brother's tiny four seat car sat in the dirt driveway, and the door stood slightly ajar. Georgia's heart dropped as she realized what that could mean.

"Be careful," Dylan warned, but she was already out of the car and racing down the driveway. Pushing the door open, she called for him, not caring about the consequences.

The kitchen door was wide open. Peering inside, she saw no one. The only closed door was the bedroom, which was closed tightly. She headed towards it, but stopped when she saw the slumped figure of a man. She gasped and put a hand to her mouth, trying not to throw up. Part of his arm was gone, the area crusted over with dry blood. The off-white of bone could be seen poking from underneath the exposed muscle. But it wasn't her brother.

Cautiously, the woman inched the door open and peered through. it was dark, the curtains closed. "Hello?" she called softly.

There was a noise from beside her, just a few metres away. Georgia jumped, and nearly slammed the door closed before she saw who made the noise. A redheaded man, a few years older than her. He looked like he had been crying.

"Ryan!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him. "I thought it was too late." Her eyes brimmed with tears again, but this time not from despair.

He put a finger to his lips, shushing her. When she gave him a questioning look, he only shook his head. A few moments passed, before a dull moan drifted through the house, originating from somewhere close.

Georgia knelt down beside her brother and hugged him tightly. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, burying her head in his shoulder. "We need to go," she whispered, aware of the noises nearby. "There's someone waiting for us outside."

Ryan hugged her back, before climbing to his feet. "Follow me," he murmured, and crept over to the door. There were no infected outside, so he made his way into the hall, checking each room as he passed it. The woman followed, arms folded and back arched as if to fold in on herself.

They had almost made it to the door before Ryan's foot stepped over a broken vase, causing a loud crunching sound. The two adults held their breaths as the moaning got louder, and a chubby woman appeared from the living room. She stood at the end of the hall, blocking their exit.

Without any warning, she lunged at them.

4: Ch. 3

Georgia pulled Ryan out of the way just in time, and the infected woman stumbled past them, tipping forwards precariously. She stopped, turned her head, and grunted as she lumbered after them again.
"Let's go," Ryan gasped, taking his sister by the arm and towing her towards the door. The infected woman tried to follow, but she was lethargic and clumsy. Ryan threw open the door and sprinted down the stairs, Georgia close behind. When he saw the large black car parked by the side of the road, he looked to his sister.
"Is this our ride?" he questioned, to which Georgia responded with a nod.
The got inside the car, both in the back. Ryan looked to the driver, and it took him a moment to register who it was.
"Hey Dylan. Thanks for the save," the younger man spoke.
Dylan replied by smiling slightly in the rear view mirror. Without wasting any more time, he shifted into gear and pulled into the road.
"Where's your family?" Ryan asked, looking towards the driver's seat. "Madeline and... Taylor, was it?"
Silence. Dylan's hands tightened around the wheel. Finally, he spoke. "With Maddy's sister." A pause. "They left town, but I wanted to stay behind. Try and help people, you know?" He sighed, and his hands relaxed. "I hope they're okay."
"And what about mom and dad?" This time, Ryan spoke to his sister.
Georgia was silent, eyes downcast. A few fresh tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. "T-they're gone," she whispered, voice shaking. "There were to many infected and we tried to fight them off, but..." she trailed off, sucking in a breath.
Ryan stared at her, wide-eyed and incredulous. His parents were dead? No, they couldn't be. But... that was what Georgia said. He looked away, shoulders drooping. "How... how did it happen?" He didn't know why he asked - it wouldn't help. Maybe he wanted some consolation that their death was quick. A quick death would bring less pain. But in the end, they were still dead, and there was nothing anyone could do to bring them back.
"You don't want to know," Georgia mumbled in response.
Georgia turned to stare out of the window, unable to look at her brother. She was there, and she should have done something. But she didn't.
The woman watched as they passed a corner store. Two women in their late thirties peeked outside through a broken door. A young teen male hid behind the tallest woman. Behind him was another child, only a few years old. As the car passed them, two large infected men approached the group, one grabbing for the teen. Georgia closed her eyes and turned her face away as the infected closed in, knowing what would happen.
She heard muffled sobs beside her, and it took her a moment to realize Ryan was crying. His face was turned away, but she could see the glistening tears on his cheeks. Dylan was silent and he too looked distressed.
Soon, they went through another residential street. They passed house after house, each one exactly the same as the one before - damaged, depressing, and empty.
From the corner of his eyes, Dylan saw a tall, blond man. The man waved at the car, indicating for it to stop. Dylan was about to pass by, but saw the panic on the man's face. With a resigned sigh, he slowed the car.
The man threw open the passenger door and climbed in, casting a worried look outside as he did so. "Thanks. Jesus, I thought no one was going to stop for me." He slammed the door closed as a woman stumbled across the road, blank white eyes staring at them unblinkingly.
"We couldn't just leave you out there. What's your name, kid?"
"Liam," the man replied simply, glancing in the back to give the two others a wave.
"Well, I'm Dylan. The two in the back are Georgia and Ryan."
The man nodded and quickly got about pulling his seatbelt on. He did it awkwardly, loathing to use his left arm. He winced as he moved it.
"Are you bitten?" Dylan demanded, looking pointedly at the injured appendage. "'Cause if you are, you're not staying with us."
The man shook his head, hair bouncing. "No, I jammed it in a door. See?" He held out his arm, sleeve rolled up. It was badly bruised, a disgusting bluish purple, but there was no broken skin. "I'm not going to turn."
More infected people wandered into view and Dylan quickly pulled back into the road. The quicker they left, the better. It seemed like the entire street was crawling with infected. The whole population of the contamination zone must have escaped. There was no other way there could be so many.
"W-where are we going?" Georgia's voice was small and shaky. Dylan almost didn't hear her question.
He shrugged. "I dunno. Caspar's close; I guess we go there."
"Caspar's blocked off. There was a whole horde of vehicles trying to get there before us. The road is jammed," Liam informed them, biting his lip.
"Fuck."
"I suppose we just drive until we find somewhere."
Georgia glanced back out the window, tuning out of the conversation. She didn't care where they went, because everything was a disaster. She was being forced out of her home, the town she had lived in almost her entire life. And her parents weren't with her. They were back there, the life drained out of them. She hadn't even seen her father die. He could very well have been left to suffer the infection, too.
The young woman sniffled and curled up into a ball, her feet resting on the seat of the car. After a moment she felt a warm arm wrap around her and turned to see Ryan pull her in for a hug. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her head in his shoulder, stifling another sob.
They sat like that for a few minutes, finding comfort in each other's presence. They had each other, and Georgia was determined to keep it that way. He was the only family member she had left.
The car slowed to a stop, and Georgia looked towards the front. Ahead of them was a cluster of cars, each one abandoned, creating a block in the road. A car alarm sounded, wailing like an injured animal.
"Dammit! We can't go this way," Dylan growled.
The redheaded woman broke away from her brother, leaning forwards to see better. Her heart sunk as she saw the extent of the blockage. The cars were piled so close not even a motorbike could fit through, never mind such a huge car.
"There's a gap there," Liam pointed to a space where two cars looked as if they had been shoved aside, as if another vehicle had tried to press through. "Think we can make it?"
Something slapped against Georgia's window and she screamed, head whipping around to find the source of the noise. A short infected man stood by the side of the car, bloody hands pressed up against the now red smeared window. He stared at her, hands sliding down the glass with a dull squeaking sound.
"Dylan, we need to go," Ryan urged as Georgia shuffled away from the window, wide eyed.
The burly man didn't say anything, but a second later the car started moving again. The infected man tried to keep up with the car, stumbling alongside it. They reached the small space between the vehicles, and Dylan slowly but steadily maneuvered around them.
The car bumped against a large red van, and for a moment it seemed like they would get stuck. The black car was barely moving forwards, and screeched against the bumper of the van. But then they made it past the van, and picked up speed.
Georgia glanced behind her and saw another infected man join the first. They stumbled and tripped over each other, desperate to be the first to reach the car full of people. But the car kept going, and they fell behind.
And so they kept driving, without much of an idea where they were actually going to end up. Anywhere was good, as long as it was safe. They passed no other people for over half an hour. It was just them, abandoned cars and a few shadows shifting in the darkness.

-----

The large black car drove into Willits. The town was deserted - there were no other vehicles on the road, the houses were dark and empty. There were no sounds.

They kept going, and with every passing minute it became more and more obvious how abandoned the place was. Ryan thought he heard someone shouting, but it was quiet, far away.

"Where is everyone?" Georgia asked softly.

"Maybe they all left? If news got out about Fort Bragg back home, maybe there was an evac," Liam suggested. It seemed plausible, but if that was the case it had happened extremely quickly.

"Or maybe Willits was taken over, too." It was what everyone had been thinking, but Dylan was the only one brave enough to say it.

"We should get supplies." None of them had anything; clothes, food or water. Who knew how long they would be on the road for? They needed to be prepared for the worst.

They pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket. The lights were on, but no one was inside. As far as they knew, people had abandoned everything too quickly to shut the place properly.

"Someone should watch the car. In case something happens," Ryan proposed. "I'll stay."

Georgia also agreed, so Liam and Dylan went in alone. It was cold inside the store, and eerily quiet. This is what it must feel like to be locked inside a store, Liam thought.

"Just grab what you can. Anything that lasts - cans, packets, things with a long shelf life." Dylan instructed, before picking a random aisle and heading down it.

Liam found the tinned foods aisle after a few minutes of wandering up and down. He had a backpack with him and managed to stuff as much as he could inside it. He felt guilty for stealing, but there was no one around to miss it. Considering what was going on, it was the least of anyone's worries.

After cramming as much tins as he could into his bag, Liam met back up with Dylan at the front of the shop. The older man had managed to find medical supplies and more food. He had bundled it all into thin plastic shopping bags and was carrying two in each hand.

"Got anything good?"

Liam nodded. "Yeah. Let's get back to Ryan and Georgia."

The made their way back to the car, stowing the bags in the trunk. They were about to get back into the car when a cry echoed from somewhere nearby.

A woman came into view, running full pelt away from four figures only a few feet behind her. Her dark t-shirt was ripped at the sleeve, and she had blood on her forehead. She caught sight of the little group and waved at them for help.

One infected grabbed hold of the back of her shirt, dragging her to the ground. She landed on her side, the infected man on top of her.

"Shit!" Dylan hissed, and ducked inside the car. A moment later he came back, a small pistol in his hands.

"Stay here you three, I'm gonna help her."­

5: Ch. 4

Dylan rushed to the woman, pausing to shoot one of the infected, who was quickly closing the gap between himself and the young adult.

The woman sprinted towards Dylan, stumbling in her heels. She tripped over a slab of uneven concrete and she toppled. Arms flailed as she fell, landing in a tangled heap of white summer dress and limbs.

Dylan continued to shoot, but one of the infected was already on top of her, blackened teeth sinking into soft flesh. The woman shrieked and tried to pull away, but the man held on tight. He wasn't muscular or even tall, but in her panicked state the woman was simply getting herself into more trouble.

The infected looked up, blood dripping from his mouth, teeth bared in a feral grimace. He growled quietly and staggered to his feet. Before he could do anything else, his head snapped back, a red spray blooming from his forehead. He collapsed onto the ground, folding in on himself. Dylan stood a few meters away, gun aimed at the place the infected man had been moments before.

Ryan rushed over to the girl, forgetting Dylan's earlier warning to stay where he was. Kneeling down beside her, he knew straight away there was nothing anyone could do. The infected had torn a chunk out of her shoulder, and the blood pumped out of the wound at an alarming rate. She wouldn't even live long enough to turn. The infection needed a living host, and already she was barely conscious.

Wiping his eyes, Ryan brushed hair away from her face. Her eyelids fluttered at the contact, but it was the only sign she knew he was there.

And then the bald man was crouching beside him, dark eyes solemn. "We should go."

"Shouldn't we.. I don't know... wait with her? She'll die alone otherwise."

Dylan snorted. "What difference does it make? She's going to die anyway. And that's better than becoming one of them."

The redhead sucked in a breath. Dylan was right. He hated it, but he was right. They needed to keep themselves safe, and standing around would only cause a stir. With all the noise they made, infected all around would know where to find them. Just like normal people, they were attracted to sound.

The two men made their way back to the car, silent and subdued. Immediately, Georgia rushed to them. "What happened? I saw her fall and..." she trailed off as she glanced behind them. "Oh."

"There's nothing we can do about it. She was bitten," Dylan replied bluntly.

Groaning was heard in the distance. It was hard to see in the dark, but it was undoubtedly more infected. Dim silhouettes made their appearance from behind the store, shambling slowly.

"Fuck." Immediately, Dylan was back inside the car, ushering everyone else inside, too. He started the car before Liam's door was even closed, yanking the hand break and pulling out of the car park with expert precision. Once they were back on the road, he risked looking back. Four or five infected - it was hard to tell from such a distance - had crowded around the bodies of the dead ones. One of them looked towards the rapidly disappearing car, but made no attempt to follow.

They drove for another ten minutes, the car filled with tense silence. In the back, Ryan's head lay against the window, eyes shut. Georgia sat curled up, playing with the hem of her blouse absently. In the front, Dylan focused solely on driving, while Liam shifted restlessly.

"What now?" Liam's question caused Georgia to jump in surprise. She hadn't expected anyone to speak.

"We find somewhere to crash, I suppose." It was getting late, and all four of them were tired. "The next town over might have a hotel or something." No one added the fact that the next town could be overrun, too.

When they finally arrived in the next town, it was just as dead as the one before it. Georgia couldn't understand how - there had only been a hundred or so infected people in containment back in Fort Bragg. A hundred people could never do that much damage. And the town they were in now was over an hour from Fort Bragg - it was impossible to think the infected could spread to another place that quickly, but they had.

They coasted through street after street, finding no one, or even signs of people. Cars sat abandoned by houses with their lights still on, but nobody was home. A small boy with a backpack and an older girl darted across a front yard, disappearing into a house through a side window. They were the only other people so far.

Unwilling to go inside anyone's house, even if they were abandoned, the small group found a shabby looking inn to spend the night. On Dylan's order, Ryan retrieved a shotgun from the boot of the car. He didn't really know how to use it, but neither did Liam or Georgia. It was better than nothing.

The two armed men crept inside first, the others close behind. As they shuffled down the hall, Dylan peeked into each open room to make sure they were empty. One was locked, but there was only silence inside.

The second floor was the same. It looked untouched, as if the outbreak had never been near the place. It was run down and old, but there were no signs of fighting or infection.

Dylan pushed open the last door, and the small room inside was vacant. "Alright," he said as he holstered his pistol. "We can sleep here for tonight. But we should stick together, two to a room, in case something happens."

There were nods of agreement. No one wanted to sleep alone after what happened.

"Most of the rooms are twins, so pick one and let's get some shut eye."

Dylan disappeared inside the closest room and Liam gave the two siblings an awkward goodbye before following him.

The siblings chose the room next door so they were in close proximity if something happened. Ryan bolted the door and checked that the window was locked. He then closed the thin curtains, thinking the light might attract someone.

"I need the bathroom, be right back," the man squeezed Georgia's shoulder before heading to the small bathroom at the end of the room.

Georgia huffed out a shaky breath as she all but collapsed onto the bed by the window. She peeked through the curtains, glancing down at the street below.

There were two people just outside the inn. They were huddled together and facing away. Georgia thought about tapping on the window to get their attention. Maybe they needed help, or could help them. But as she raised her hand, one of the people turned around.

Empty white eyes stared up at her.

Georgia stared right back. From this distance, they almost looked normal. Maybe it was the dark, or maybe they just weren't badly injured from turning, but they could easily be mistaken for regular people, even when facing her. One of them even had a bag slung over her shoulder. The normalcy of it was surreal.

The second woman turned around, and Georgia jumped. She looked like her mother. Georgia squinted, trying to get a better look. Dark hair, slender face, she even had a long sleeved dress like her mother. Trembling, Georgia closed the curtains and slumped forwards.

Liam was back, and he sat down beside his sister. "Come here." He gave her a hug, lanky arms wrapping around her small frame easily. "We'll be okay, you know." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than her. "Try and get some sleep. An - and in the morning we'll figure out what to do." His voice wobbled, but he tried to smile.

The woman nodded, blinking. "Yeah, okay," was all she said. She lay down, not even bothering to take off her shoes or get under the sheets. "What do you think happened to everyone back home?"

Ryan didn't reply right away. "I don't know," he answered. But he had a fair idea - either they're dead, turned, or got out of town like they did. Hopefully, most managed the latter.

There was a soft knock at the door and Liam cracked it open. "Hey, I was thinking we should keep watch. In case someone - or something - tries to get inside."

It sounded like a good idea. If an infected wandered in - and it would be easy, since the entrance wasn't locked - they would need to know as soon as possible to deal with it.

"Okay. I'll do it." It wasn't like Ryan would get much sleep anyway.

"You sure? I can do it. I just told you so you knew what was going on."

Ryan shook his head and grabbed the shotgun, which he had kept a hold of and shoved in a corner of the room. He didn't like guns, and had never shot one in his life, but he wanted to be able to defend himself, and others, if something were to happen. "Na, I got it. I'll wake you up in a couple of hours and we can swap?"

Liam simply nodded his approval and disappeared back into his own room.

Ryan turned to Georgia. "You okay?" He got a nod in reply. "Okay. Try and sleep, even if it's just a little." He gave her a weak smile and went into the hall. He perched himself by the stairs, leaning the shotgun against the railing.

Now all he had to do was wait and hope the night was uneventful.

-----

The door eased open, creaking on rusted hinges. Green eyes fluttered open, before Georgia bolted upright, heart beating wildly in her chest. A figure made itself visible in the door frame, blonde hair matted against fair skin.

"Liam!" she hissed, nose crinkling. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, but I heard something downstairs. I don't really want to go down there by myself." He smiled sheepishly.

There was a groan from the other bed, and Ryan sat up. "Well, get Dylan. He's better at this stuff."

"He also sleeps like he's in a coma. I can't wake him."

With a grumble, Ryan got to his feet. He was still in his clothes, bar shoes.

"Let's go," he joined Liam outside in the hall and gestured for him to lead the way. He glanced back, unsure if he should leave Georgia alone. But she was a grown woman - twenty three years old - and was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Besides, the problem was on the first floor.

The two crept downstairs, crouched so whoever was there couldn't see them. This time Liam held the shotgun, gripping it tightly with both hands.

Footsteps. At least two separate pairs. One was heavy and clumsy, the other light and delicate. There might have been a third, almost too quiet to hear.

Liam glanced at the man beside him before diving out of cover, shotgun raised. He stood confidently, but the gun was awkward in his arms - big and cumbersome. He clearly didn't know how to hold it.

Two heads turned to look at him – a man in his early forties and a younger woman. Their eyes were clear, not glazed over and white like the infected. A little boy came into view, hiding behind the man's legs.

The man raised a pistol, aiming it right for Liam's heart. "Put the shotgun down.”

6: Ch. 5

Liam hesitantly lowered his weapon, unable to take his eyes off the pistol pointed right at him. Beside him, Ryan moved forwards, hands raised.

"We don't want to hurt you," the tall redhead spoke, "we just want to stay here for the night." His voice wavered, giving away his fear. "You just want to sleep here, too, right?"

The woman put a hand on her husband's arm and he lowered the gun. "Yeah," she spoke. "We just need some rest. We want to get to Mesquite, but we can't do that in one journey." She shrugged, but winced. Her hand went to her arm, which was held stiffly by her side.

"Are you hurt?" Liam questioned, noting the way the woman held her arm.

"Dislocated," she replied nonchalantly. "I can put it back myself."

Ryan and Liam shared a look before deciding it wasn't their call. "So what are your names, anyway?" The information wouldn't make a difference, but if they were going to share the place, even for a short while, they should at least know what to call each other.

"Mason," the man replied. He relaxed visibly, and shoved his pistol in the back of his pants. Ryan and Liam were glad to see it go.

"I'm Deborah. This is Logan." At the mention of his name, the child stepped out from behind his father and gave a small, shy wave. Sandy brown hair flopped in his eyes, which he rubbed tiredly. All three of the newcomers had dark circles around their eyes. The poor kid could hardly stand.

"We won't get in your way," Mason spoke. "And uh, sorry about the gun." He tousled his hair and smiled, embarrassed.

Liam gestured to the stairs. "It's safer to stay upstairs since the entrance won't lock."

The five of them trekked upstairs, Mason and Liam first. Ryan noticed that the older man was limping, hardly putting any pressure on his left leg. Whatever had happened to these three, it must have been serious.

"Why Mesquite?" The question was sudden, and it took the three a moment to realize the question was aimed at them.

"Mesquite hasn't been hit by the infection. It's safe," Deborah replied with a tired smile. "We heard on the radio. Before that we... didn't really know where we were headed."

The family chose a room at the end of the hall from the others', the three of them sharing a double bed. It was a tight fit, but they wanted to stay together.

Ryan and Liam left them to settle down and take in the news of Mesquite.

"Think it's really safe?"

Liam shrugged. The whole state couldn't have been overrun already, so it was quite possible. "We'll just have to see, but I hope so."

As they neared their rooms again, Georgia appeared, ginger hair tangled around her slim face. Dylan cracked open his door too, thick brow raised. "What happened?"

Liam jerked his thumb down the hall. "Some people turned up, wanting to rest. They're in one of the double rooms."

"Someone else should keep watch; Liam's been doing it long enough. Especially after that scare."

"I'll do it." The offer from Georgia was quiet. "I won't get back to sleep anyway." She had hardly slept at all, except for a light doze she woke up from at least three times throughout the night.

Everyone shuffled back to their rooms, leaving Georgia outside with the shotgun. She would never use it though, even if she knew how. Her father had taught her to use a pistol when she was younger, but she had never really understood how guns worked. She never thought she would need to until now.

Leaning her head against the crumbling wall, the woman listened to the sound of the night. It was almost entirely silent, but she could faintly hear the groans of infected outside. She tensed as she heard an especially loud groan drift up through the hall, but it was only coming from an open window in the foyer, not in the building itself.

She closed her eyes, sighing quietly. This time last night everything was completely normal. Who would have guessed things could go downhill so fast?

Footsteps across the hall. The small pitter-patter of a child. Georgia opened her eyes and saw a young boy with bare feet wander towards her.

She watched as the boy flopped down beside her, stifling a yawn. "You're with the two men, aren't ya?" he questioned with a smile. "You look like the ginger one."

Georgia laughed, nodding. "I'm his sister, Georgia. What's your name?"

"Logan," the boy replied, yawning.

Georgia would have thought he would want to sleep, but then she wasn't in bed either. They had all been through some pretty crazy stuff, and sleep wouldn't come easy.

"Did you have to leave your home, too? Mom said we had to go 'cause it wasn't safe, but I don't get it."

How could she explain to a child what was going on? She barely understood it herself. "Some people got ill and they're dangerous. Your mom and dad probably took you away so they wouldn't hurt you."

For a long moment, he said nothing. After a while, he asked, "You mean the ones with the weird eyes? They're all puffy and gross."

Georgia simply nodded.

"My neighbour was one of those. She tried to bite my dad." He shuddered, and when he looked up at Georgia, there were tears in his eyes. "She used to be really nice."

Looking down at her hands, Georgia nodded. "Yeah, I think things are going to be different from now on." And then, because she felt guilty for being so pessimistic around a kid, she forced a smile. "But I'm sure everything will work out in the end."

Logan yawned again and stretched his arms.

"You should get some sleep, you know," Georgia told him. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't want you staying up to talk to a stranger."

He shrugged. "Nah, I wanna stay here."

The woman didn't protest. He wasn't doing any harm, and she would only be alone otherwise. Georgia closed her eyes again, listening out for any telltale signs that there was danger. Only silence, the groans of infected and wind. When she opened her eyes again, Logan was asleep beside her, his head resting on his knees, which were pulled up to his chest.

"I told him he should get some sleep but he didn't listen," a brunette woman with tanned skin knelt beside the boy and carefully lifted him up. "I'm Debby. Sorry about Logan."

Georgia shrugged. "It's alright. I'm Georgia, by the way."

The woman smiled, stifling a yawn, and traipsed back to her room, Logan in her arms. She was soon replaced by Ryan, whom Georgia hadn't even noticed until he was right beside her.

"You alright?" he questioned, settling himself into a slouch beside her. "You know, considering."

She simply nodded, though it was an obvious lie. "I guess."

Silence. Neither sibling spoke for a good few minutes until Ryan sighed loudly. "So... what really happened to mom and dad?"

Georgia stiffened, turning away from him. "I told you, you don't want to know." She sounded snappier than she intended, but at that moment she didn't care. He wasn't there when it happened. If he was, he wouldn't want to talk about it, either. "Just know that they're gone. They couldn't have survived that." She had seen their mother die, and their father... he could never have made it through that mob.

"What's going to happen? If the infected have spread..." Georgia trailed off. What if the original outbreak in Fort Bragg wasn't the only one? If there were more in other cities or states, then it would cause a country-wide panic.

"We'll figure it out," Ryan reassured, though he wasn't even convincing himself. "Go get some sleep. I'll keep watch until morning."

She didn't protest. She was too tired, and staying awake would only create more depressing thoughts. So she nodded and got to her feet, walking back into the room and collapsing onto her bed without really being aware of what she was doing.

But she didn't get any sleep. How could she, with everything that had happened?