May get a little bloody and gory in late chapters.

Please ignore any typos; I'm not very good at typing on keyboards. I mess up a lot.

Oops. forgot the disclaimer: I don't own TMNT (I think you would know if I did...)

Please review and let me know what you think!

The night is dark, the clouds covering every inch of sky. The trees whisper a death sentence as I run along the deserted highway. My blue eyes flutter as my long strides falter, showing how exhausted I am. My bag jostles around on my back as I stumble, regaining my balance quickly and running more. Fear flickers inside of me and my posture is quick and hurried; I'm running from someone. Well, more of a something than a someone. Because what pursues me is so terrifying, so unbelievable that if you were in my place you would probably drop dead on the spot from shock. I carry a pistol in my right hand, my trembling finger poised over the trigger. I only have one bullet left in my gun, I think, my gaze sweeping the landscape fearfully behind me. I can't use it. There are too many. What follows me is an army of undead people, which are known as Walkers, shuffling along about a mile behind me. I can see the dead, cold glimmers in their eyes from where I am and my eyes widen. I have a gash in my side that gushes out blood, but despite this I run more, my feet splashing in the puddles that litter the mucky side of the road. It's too dark. I can hardly see, I think. Why was I asleep so long? My legs burn as I run faster, my heartbeat quick. Suddenly I feel my foot land in an extra slippery puddle and feel myself fall. I slam onto the ground and feel a sharp, searing pain in my head above my right eye. No! No, no! I feel warm, sticky liquid drip down my face and look up, rolling onto my back. Please let this be a nightmare! I scramble to my feet, ignoring the mud that stains my yellow shirt with a white five on it. My backpack feels like it weighs a ton as I stare at the Walkers. They can smell my blood...their hungry, empty eyes are looking right at me. Their teeth craving to sink into my flesh and bone. I can't fight them all. I'm too tired. My legs hurt from all that running. I-I don't want that! Maybe my time has come. The blood that flows from my head is staining the ground now, running through my eye and down my face. I hold my pistol up to the bottom of my chin, my hand shaking. One bullet, one shot, and it's all over. That's better than becoming one of them. I feel more fear sprout within me and take a deep breath.

More blood from my head splatters onto my shirt and I poise my finger over the trigger. My blue eyes are unfocusing, my breathing becoming short. My head feels fuzzy as I prepare to pull the trigger and end this run from these monsters. Suddenly a voice explodes in the quiet deadliness of the night and I see four beings appear in front of me. "Booyakasha!" Each has a different shade of green for skin, emerald green, kelly green, tea green and light green. In my state of mind I make out green skin. I must be hallucinating very badly now. Who are they? They're not walkers, I see light in them. They're clothed in dark cloaks, but I can make out the orange, blue, red and purple cloth wrapping around their legs, arms and heads. They look close to my age, but it's hard to tell. I feel sick...I feel dizzy. I faintly feel one grab me when I collapse. I look into his eyes and see their color. I've never seen a person have such amazing red eyes...or are they brown? It's hard to see clearly. A strip of purple fabric wraps around his head and I see he has wound more purple cloth around his arms and fingers. I let myself be carried by him, the worry etched into his eyes making me believe that they're here to help me. I close my eyes and feel his thumb wipe blood off my cheek. I would've blushed, but I don't think there's enough blood left in my head to do that. I know some of my red hair is bloodied and that I probably look much worse than I really am. I probably just got blood all over the cloth on his hand and thumb, but I can do little but make my eyelids flutter. Why are they helping me? I'm a stranger. I feel myself bumping against the person and I know he's running with me clutched against him.

"Hang in there! You're safe now!" I vaguely hear him say. He has a beautiful voice, panic clear in it, but the sound makes my heart beat faster.

"Make sure she's breathing!" Another voice yells. Maybe the red clothed one I saw before collapsing.

"She's bleeding too much!" A different person shouts. Maybe the blue one.

"Do you guys think she likes pizza?" A voice says, sounding almost sheepish. I feel my head swim and everything starts to fade.

"MIKEY!" I hear the first three voices combined in an agitated chorus. I feel more blood leave my body through my side and head.

Maybe my time hasn't come yet...

Maybe my life is just starting...

I black out.

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"-ake up!"

"-he's not waking u-"

"-elp me Raph! Put pressure on th-"

"-eo! Come on! Help u-"

"-tay with us! Don't g-"

Voices swim through my head. Sometimes the brown eyed person who picked me up, sometimes the other three. They all seem equally frustrated and worried. I try to tell them I'm fine, but I can't move. I want to go back to sleep. Why won't they let me? Just let me sleep...

"No! Come o-"

They're so loud. Let me sleep, please...

"-ikey! Help m-"

The brown eyed person is the voice I hear the most. I try to move, to touch his hand, which is pressing on my head wound, but I can't. I can't even twitch a finger. I smile faintly as the voices explode again, fretting over me. I'm fine, I want to tell them. Worry about someone else. Just let me sleep now. But they don't. In fact, they seem bent on not letting me sleep. Maybe afraid if I fall asleep I'll never wake up. I might not. I feel my mind start to fog again, everything cut off in an instant. I can't hear anything or see anything and I feel weightless. I feel like I'm floating, feel my orange hair rise around my face. I know I'm probably dreaming, but I can't help it. I want more than anything for this to be real. No pain, no worries, nothing but breathing and living.

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Suddenly I'm yanked out of my peaceful world back into the chaotic, loud one.

"Come on, wake up!" I hear the brown eyed person whisper, sounding tired and weary. Did I make him sound like that? I'm fine! I desperately want to shout, to yell, to scream. I'm ok! Of course, nothing works, but I wriggle my toes. I do this repeatedly, hoping he'll notice, but nothing happens and then I hear the faint, muffled sound of crying. Woah. Wait. Is he crying because of me? I try to open my eyes and I feel his light touch on my arm. I sense another presence approaching and he draws away, the tears stopping. The footsteps near and then stop next to my bed.

"You okay Don?" the person says. I recognize it as the one that I assumed was the blue clothed one. Maybe it's not.

"Yeah," comes the quiet reply.

"Need any help?" the other person says. "Or is she going to be okay?"

"She's fine." I hear the brown eyed person, Don, stand up and walk away. No! Wait! Come back! I sense the blue clothed person take his place, sitting silently for a few minutes. I hear the beep of a heart monitor and wonder where they got it. Are they rich or something? I haven't seen hospital equipment in years. Most was destroyed in the Starting, when the Walkers were created. A bunch of bombs dropped and all the people who died during their explosions came back to life. And how did these people save me? Are they like ninjas or something? Probably the latter. Maybe I'm just going insane after all I've been through. That would make sense. I mean, more people would've killed themselves then go through any of the stuff I've seen. Honestly. I didn't know anyone else was left. The Walker's army has grown so large I thought maybe the whole world was gone and I was the only one. Well, that's what I get for thinking.

"Hey." I'm startled by the blue clothed person's now-quiet voice. "Okay, listen. You need to wake up. You've been out for a month, and we can all tell that Donnie has a huge crush on you. If you can hear me, please wake up. For Don. Please." I would've blushed if I had any control over my body. Only my fingers and toes for now. I would've groaned, but yeah. Apparently I need to wake up. I don't want to. I want to stay paralyzed forever, not caring about anything. I feel him set his hand on mine and a chill runs down my spine as I realize I do need to wake up. The whole world isn't about you, I scold myself. Wake up for Don. Or Donnie. Or whatever his name is. I try my hardest to open my eyes, try so hard it sorta hurts, but all I can do is twitch my fingers. I feel his hand pull away and try to wake up as I hear him walk away. He's giving up on me! I want to wake up! Let me wake up! I clench my fists and grit my teeth. Wait. I just moved! I almost jump up and dance, but my head is starting to pound with a throbbing, intense pain. I groan(finally) and blink my eyes open slowly. The blue clothed person stops walking and I hear him start to run back. He takes my hand in his as I sit up and hiss in pain as my head reels. The blue clothed person- no, it's the red clothed person, dang it -pushes me back down and looks into my eyes.

"Donnie!" He yells. His green eyes are lit up as he cups my face in his hand and checks my pulse. The red cloth on his arms and fingers reminds me of my blood and I feel sick. He must see my face turn gray or green or something, because his eyes widen. "Donnie!" He shouts again, running from the room I'm in. Why did he leave? I'm about to throw up when he returns with a bucket and three more people like him. He sets the bucket down in front of me just in time, seeing how I vomit into it the instant it touches the ground. The red clothed person- wait, turtle -backs away and is replaced by the purple clothed one. The color matches his reddish brown eyes perfectly and he rubs circles on my back in an attempt to make me feel better. I'm not sure it does. I stop throwing up and don't object when Don or Donnie(I don't know) cleans my face and checks my vitals. I open my mouth to talk, but he runs over to a desk on the other side of the room right as I'm about to say something. I see him stop about twenty feet away and click madly on a computer mouse. It's only then that I notice an IV tube protruding out of my arm and snaking over to bags of fluid hanging by my side. Curiosity gets the best of me.

"I thought all the health equipment was destroyed in the Starting," I say, my voice sounding scratchy and weak. Well, I haven't used it in a month, so I should've expected that. And I just threw up. Don/Donnie turns around and grins, still trying to focus on his computer.

"It was," he says. "I built this from scraps."

Woah, that's impressive. "My name's April. And you are...?"

He looks a bit guilty. "I'm Donatello, but you can call me Donnie. Everyone else does." The red clothed one is inching towards the door when the blue clothed one grabs his arm and yanks him back. His face is sullen and he crosses his arms, frowning. The red cloth on his arms and legs is more unkempt than his brothers. His green eyes are narrowed and he has kelly green skin. He stands next to the blue clothed turtle and glares at the floor. The blue clothed turtle has blue eyes and his skin is an emerald green. I notice long burns trailing on his legs and wrapping around his arms. I feel a faint recognition and try to remember where I've seen him before. I can't. He's glaring at his green eyed brother and making sure he doesn't try to sneak away again. The last one is the shortest and has orange fabric wrapped around his arms and legs. His eyes are a baby blue and he has a dusting of freckles across his face. The tails on his mask are shorter than his brother's, and the red clothed one's are the longest. Donatello's the tallest of the four, with the blue clothed one being second tallest and the red clothed one right after him. I still find it weird that I was saved by four giant turtles, but hey, I'm not complaining. I glance at Donatello's three brother's, mostly because I still don't know their names. Donatello notices the direction of my gaze, as do the others, and suddenly Donatello, the orange clothed one and the blue clothed one are all talking at once. The only one who's not fighting for the spotlight is the red clothed one, who takes this to his advantage and slips out of the room. Guess he got tired of me after I threw up. Oh well. The others don't notice, so they keep on talking at once until the blue clothed one slaps his hand over the orange clothed one's mouth and glares fiercely at Donatello. The message in his eyes is clear. SHUT UP!

I would laugh, but it would probably hurt my head again. According to the words on Donatello's computer screen, which I can barely make out, I've lost a lot of blood and will probably need to keep off my legs for a week or two. I've been out for a month already! Why do I need bed rest for two weeks? I shrug it off and tell myself these things aren't my bosses. If they try to make me stay in bed, I'll just tell them off and walk out. And probably collapse outside the door. The blue clothed one starts talking.

"Okay, so I'm Leonardo and this is Michelangelo." he motions to the shortest of the four, well, now three, and smiles. "You know Donnie, so this is Raphael." he finally notices his brother gone and I see him narrow his eyes and follow after the red clothed turtle who made his quick escape earlier. I suppress a small smile and see the laughter in Donatello and Michelangelo's eyes as they turn back to me.

"Yeah, Raph loses interest in things way too fast," Donatello apologizes. Then he furrows his eyebrows. "Why we're out out so late? And so close to the Biters? Don't you know it's dangerous?" I know he's just worrying, but his words anger me for some reason. I sit up, causing my muscles to scream in protest, but I ignore the pain.

"If it's a crime to sleep, then let me know, because I just slept a bit too long!" I see him flinch at my voice, which is raised, and know my words have bit into him. Immediately I feel bad and sink back onto the cot. "Sorry," I mumble. Donatello doesn't answer as the computer starts to beep a lot. He races over and types in some stuff. His fingers fly over the keyboard and I realize he only has three fingers on each hand. Weird. I feel lightheaded as I exhale a breath and close my eyes. When I open them again, Donatello is at my side and his face is pale.

"You ripped your stitches when you sat up!" He says. I don't know much about health stuff, but from his face, it's probably bad. He must see my confusion because he continues. "I sewed up your side and head when we brought you here, and when you sat up, your side started to bleed again!" So this is definitely bad. He runs over to a cabinet and pulls out a needle and a spool of thread. Needle?! I try to push myself away from him, my fear of needles driving me into a terrified state. When he nears me again he must see the fear in my eyes, because his face softens and he looks behind him again. Michelangelo left a while ago and I can hear the faint shouts of an argument. Donatello looks back at me and his eyes are uncertain.

"Do you want me to use anesthesia?" He asks softly. "It'll make you go to sleep." That would be better than feeling the needle stab into me over and over again as he sews my skin up. I nod slowly, uncertain, and watch as he retreats to the cabinet again, searches through its contents, grabs something, lugs it out of the cabinet and carries it over to me. It's a canister of whatever-he-said, and when he places a mask over my nose and mouth it smells like strawberries. My breath fogs the mask every time I exhale, Donatello asking me question about my old life.

"What were your parents like?" He asks. I think for a moment, my mind growing foggy like the mask.

"They were nice," I say. My voice sounds muffled and closed off. Donatello nods.

"Did you have any pets? Raph had a pet turtle once." I nod and close my eyes. Donatello's silent for a moment, then speaks up.

"Leo saw you the day the bombs were dropped." My breath catches in my throat as I remember the monster-like creature that fled to the bay with us the day the bombs fell. I slip away into the devastating memory that marks each of our minds. The memory that started it all. The day that everything went haywire and ballistic. The day that a part of me died inside. The day that ripped my soul to shreds. The day that I lost everything. That day...

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Does she ever stop talking? I think. One of the annoying perks of my best friend is that she knows everything and thinks everyone needs to know. I smile as she detailed the appearance of sodium and its properties and pull out my phone, quickly tuning out and answering the text to my dad. He wanted to know where I am, so I tell him I'm with Irma by the bay. I don't know exactly where I am but I have a general idea, so yeah. The ocean laps at the shore about a half mile from where we walk on the sidewalk. People swarm around us, pushing and shoving, so we quickly make our way over to the less populated side of the street. A bench sits in front a small green park with a couple trees and a fountain, so we sit down and Irma deepens her topic on sodium. Apparently it's yellow. Who knew? I always thought sodium was gray or white or black, one of the normal rock colors. I actually start to listen as Irma lists all of the uses of it. Did you know it's used to make alloys? And that its Atomic number is 14? Well, I knew the latter, but whatever. We start a new game of pointing out interesting articles of clothing or accessories, and I see a diamond necklace on the neck of a woman that looks like it weighs a ton. I observe the woman as she digs through her purse. She wears a tight black pencil skirt and a tan jacket that looks like it belongs in a detective movie. She wears a fedora and sunglasses, so this adds more to the effect. I point her out to Irma and explain my theory. Soon we're both cracking up and talking about what her backstory could be.

"She's a detective that went against her protocol and stole the necklace from the criminal who stole it!" Irma exclaims. I giggle.

"No, she's an imposter of the actual detective and is looking for more shiny stuff to steal!" I say, laughing more. Irma joins in and soon we're getting weird looks from people passing. When our laughter dies down I lift my gaze to the sky and see a lone, dark shape circling slowly. Then I realize it's not alone. Confusion wells inside of me. Aren't planes supposed to fly in straight lines? Not circles? I start to freak out and grab Irma's hand, yanking her along as I flee towards the water. Irma's face looks confused and I point at the planes.

"They're circling! Like buzzards!" I say. Irma pales.

"Let's get out of here!" We start to make our way towards the bay when the first bomb is dropped. Irma and I are shoved off our feet from the force and I slam onto the ground, losing her hand. Panic floods me. I taste blood in my mouth and spit it out. I bit my tongue when I fell. I open my eyes, which I closed when I fell, and scramble to my feet. Another bomb falls, almost on top of me. Fire erupts, people catching it and screaming in pain.

"Irma!" I shout. I can't see my friend through the mayhem the bombs caused. People are screaming. Many are on fire. I dodge a burning person that flies towards me. "Irma!" Still no sign of her. Where is she? I stumble through the crowds and am thrown to the ground as another bomb falls. Already fires are raging. Smoke spills into the air. I cough and choke on it. My friend is gone! "Irmaaaaaa!" I scream. Suddenly a hand grabs mine and is pulling me to the waters of the bay. I turn to see Irma and we run to where the water is churning. Ash is raining from the sky. My eyes widen as I hear a little girl screaming and crying. A car explodes and I flinch from the dirt that rains on us. Another bomb shakes the ground. Smoke fills the air. We're both coughing. Suddenly I see something that resembles the shape of a human but has green skin and a shell. I scream, as does Irma. It's just another pawn of this attack. I inhale acrid smoke and realize that my world's ending as I know it. Everything lost to a fire of sea and ash. Another explosion rocks the ground as we run and I stumble. Irma's hand is torn from my grip as I fall to my knees. Irma yanks me to my feet and we race towards the water again. A building slides to the ground behind us, glass crunching and bricks toppling onto people. The water will be safer than land. We run as I hear a panicked voice behind us. I can barely make out the words behind me and when I do they make no sense.

"Donnie...where are...my signal! Hurry!" Then I see the green person that was staring into the fire rush past us, fleeing as well. I choke out a scream and stumble to a halt. Irma ignores me and pulls me along. My lungs ache and my eyes burn. Suddenly I see the turtle-like human trip over some bricks and he tumbles head over heels into a wall. A sickening smack follows and I feel sorry for it. He leaps to his feet again and shakes his head, disoriented. The fires are growing worse, the smoke depleting every inch of oxygen and heat tearing through my body. The world is lit up from the flames and the smell is strong enough to make me gag. The turtle stumbles towards us and seems confused as we rush past it. I cough again and we come closer to the water. Debris litters the ground and I find it hard to keep moving. My lungs are burning. A million questions run through my brain. Is this what it feels like to be burned alive? How does it feel to die slowly? Are we going to make it? What happens if we don't? I don't have to be a genius to know the answer to the last question. We'll die. I hear the turtle's footsteps behind us and know he's following. More screams lace the air, explosions rocking the ground and making us stumble every two seconds. I hear him trip again and a gasp follows. I hear a crunch and wince. I look behind me and see him staggering to his feet, his eyes cloudy and confused. Blood runs down the side of his face, soaking his blue mask. I see his eyes focus again and fill with terror as he realizes how close the flames are. Then I realize he's just like the rest of us, trying to get away from the fire and survive. I see him start to run to the bay again when he falls for the third time and the flames catch up to him. The last thing I hear are his pained screams as the flames hungrily surround him and start to bite at his skin and we hit the black water of the bay.

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"April? Are you okay?" Donnie's voice brings me back to the present. I blink my eyes open and realize tears are welling up in my eyes. I shake my head.

"We left him!" I choke out. "We left him for the fires to burn him!"

He must realize that I'm talking about Leo because he wraps me in a hug. "It wasn't your fault. He survived! It's okay!" But it's not. He must know it's me who left him in the fires. That it was me who sealed his fate. And even though he did live, he's marked with the scars from that day. I shudder and pull away from Donatello's hug. I shake my head again.

"It's not okay!" I insist. "He has scars because of me!"

Donatello's face is stern. "Did you drop those bombs?" I stop, surprised, and shake my head. "Did you order those bombs to be dropped?" I shake my head again. Donatello crosses his arms. "Then it's not your fault. It's the Kraang's fault because they dropped the bombs. They're the ones who started it all. The madness and loss. The fires and death. They wanted something to happen so when it ended they could have the Earth. But it's not gonna be that easy 'cause we're gonna stop them before they hurt anyone else. Well, as soon as we can." He must realize he's rambling because he clamps his mouth shut and smiles. "Well, I'm gonna go fix something!" And with that he jumps up and disappears before I can even process what he said. I only realize then that my side throbs with a dull pain and remember that Donatello used the anesthesia on me to stitch up my side. Oh. Well, it doesn't hurt that bad. Leo's pained screams still ring in my ears as I blink away the remaining sleep from my eyes when I remember something he said. Something about some "Kraang", whatever they are. Who are they? Did they really drop the bombs? And if they did, was it really to wipe out everyone so they can have the Earth? What is going on? I try to get up when I remember Donatello's warning. I need bed rest. I sink back onto the bed and sigh. I miss my father. I miss my home. I miss Irma. I yawn and realize how tired I am. Why am I tired? I was just sleeping! But despite my protests, sleep takes over and I close my eyes, drowning in the calm sweetness of sleep. But this relieved feeling doesn't last long.

Because then more memories come back.

And they're more vivid than ever.

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I shiver in the dark shadow of the pine tree and try to coax a flame from the pile of twigs in front of me. I can't. Irma rubs her arms in an attempt to warm herself up, but her teeth are still chattering when she stops. As soon as we found a good place of land to stop swimming, we climbed onto shore and made a makeshift camp. We have no food or water, so we plan to move as quickly as possible to find some. And fire starting? Forget that. It's too wet and cold to even think about a fire. Rain drizzles down, creating a thick mist of falling water so we can't see ten feet away. I shiver. It would be easy for anything to sneak up on us. Irma's glasses are fogged by the drizzle, which is more of a thick mist, and she leaves them. I wrap my arms around my knees and try to summon some body heat to warm me up. The sharp cold of the night stabs at us, laughing, and worms it's way into my bones. I shiver more violently and glance at the sky. We're in the woodlands of New York, probably far away from New York City by now, and the way the pine needles shake water onto us isn't helping with the chilly atmosphere. I know Irma's probably more cold than I am, seeing how she's smaller and more "svelte", as she says. I huddle against the trunk of the tree, my hands flying down my arms as I freeze. My blood feels cold and I curse myself for not bringing a jacket on our walk. I knew it was going to get cold soon! How could I have been so foolish? My teeth clatter together harder as a breeze makes the drizzle even colder. My eyes flutter.

I panic as I realize what being tired could mean. I mean, I know I'm cold, but I don't feel like I'm going to die anytime soon! I rub my arms harder and try to sustain my shivering. Shivering could lead to hypothermia, and that's never good. I fight drowsiness off and force myself to keep my eyes wide. I've learned that if you close your eyes, you tend to fall asleep without realizing it. I stare at the dim needles of the pine tree. I feel sleep tug at my eyelids again but ignore it. Soon I'm nodding off. I jerk myself up and take a deep breath. I can't fall asleep. I notice Irma is fighting off the same drowsiness and groan.

"We should just start moving before we fall asleep and never wake up," I suggest. Irma nods and I realize all the same thoughts are running through her head. I stand up as does Irma and we start to move through the woods. We've been walking only for about ten minutes when a maniac kind of laughter rings through the silence and is followed by a splintering sound, then a loud crack that makes my ears ring. Irma and I stop dead when we hear a creaking, then a crash only a little ways behind us. A scream is heard, not a scream of fear or pain, but one of anger and something I can only call malice. I exchange a glance with Irma and unspoken words settle between us. Run. NOW! We both break into a run and fly through the woods, pine needles scratching at my face. I feel warm liquid run down my cheek followed by a sting of pain. I'm bleeding! I almost stop running to touch my face and wipe the blood away but realize what kind of danger we might be in. For all we know, we're being pursued by a chainsaw maniac! As soon as the thought runs through my head, I almost break into laughter. What a stupid thought. I wonder who could be pursuing us and duck around a tree trunk. The one good thing about pine forests is that there's not much undergrowth, just clear ground with a bunch of sharp pine needles jabbing at your face. The bad thing is that your footprints are clear in the mud. Oh my gosh, the mud. It sucks at our shoes and wants to keep us in it's nasty grip. My feet sink at least an inch each time I land and make a horrible wet sucking noise each time I lift my foot. I shudder but keep running, the blood trailing down my face and dripping onto my shirt. Irma's feet do the same in the mud; it's disgusting. Rain still drizzles onto us, so each time I see a tree trunk loom out of the mist I feel a stab of fear that it's a chainsaw maniac waiting for us. Who knows what kinds of people survived the bombs! They could all just as well be murderous scandals who take pleasure in killing people!

I narrow my eyes and my mind complains as the rain goes from a mist to a full out downpour. Water rains on us so our clothes are soaked through. If we had any hopes of finding warmth, they're completely dashed now. I feel cold start to wrap it's freezing arms around me again. Every time I take a step I feel more tired. Maybe the noise we heard was just our tired, overactive imagination. I skid to a halt and Irma hisses in frustration, grabbing my arm and yanking me along. Her short purple and black hair is plastered to her head and makes her look smaller. Her glasses must be soaked too, but if they're affecting her vision she doesn't show it. I shiver and go along with her, unwilling to share my idea. Suddenly sounds of chase give themselves away behind us and I almost gasp. The mud in the ground is sucking at someone else's shoes. Not ours. And a bunch of someones. I feel fear spark a fire inside of me. A fire that refuses to be put out even in the pouring rain. Irma and I run faster. I'm determined not to stop, because if I do I'll probably have a stitch in my side and need to stop running for a couple minutes. And I'm pretty sure we don't have that long. My breath is short and forced, my lungs and chest squeezing out of the fear I feel. All the drowsiness I felt before has vanished. It's gone. I determine the footsteps behind us to belong to five or six people. Maybe more. I know one thing for sure; if we get caught we're dead. I don't care that the rain gets in my eyes and more pine needles slash my skin, I just want to get away from these creeps. I bet Irma feels the same way from the fear that takes over her features when another crazy bout of laughter is heard behind us. Bunch of creeps.

Another scream, this time of pure glee, rings in our ears. What the heck is wrong with these people? My feet slide around in the mud. I curse mud right now. I manage to keep my balance but keep running, my feet still slipping around. I really hate mud. Always have. The way it sticks to you and stains your clothes. And now the way it's almost making my legs give out and get caught by these creeps pursuing us. A choked up laugh rattles out of another throat and is followed by more horror-movie-like noises. More shouts and maniac laughter. More screams. I count more people than I estimated and feel the blood rush from my face. There's at least twelve. I see Irma stumble and grab her arm, almost dragging her along before she recovers. More hoots and screams ring in the air. It's like we're being hunted. I shudder and breath in quick gasps. My legs and lungs burn with an intense pain that I can't handle. I need to stop running. The laughs and screams are getting further behind us, so apparently we have more stamina than our creepy pursuers. Thank you, Phys Ed! Now it might be that class that's saving my life. I can't say the same for Irma. Her face is pale and she looks sick. Poor thing. I yank her along now, reversing the roles, and hope that we can be fast. Fast enough to live through this sick game of cat and mouse. Tree trunks fly past us, needles lashing our faces, mud sucking at our feet. I can almost feel the anticipation flowing off of our new unfriendly friends. Pain stabs through my chest as I breath in again. My side aches, my attempts to stop the stitch from forming whisked away. Pain doubles in my side and I wince. Under normal circumstances, I would've stopped running and caught my breath. But these are not normal circumstances. Who knows who's chasing us through these deserted woods? Could just be a couple of muggers. Could be a handful of normal people. Or it could be a bunch of cold blooded killers like in the movies.

I'm really thankful for my horror movie knowledge right now. I mean, people in horror movies do stupid things. Like, really stupid things. So my best bet is not to end up like them. Go for the exit instead of the dark tunnel with haunting sounds echoing from it. Or maybe don't stop running until you know they're off your tail. Or maybe hide somewhere sensible. If this were a movie, I'd probably be dead by now. I wish it was. I don't want to live like this. I start to form a plan in my head. Climb a tree. Jump into a different tree. Confuse our creepy friends. Make them think we're in the one tree but in reality we're in different tree. I yank Irma towards the nearest tree and scramble up the trunk. She must see my plan because she follows without a second thought. We're high in the tree before the shouts and screams and laughter of our friends surround the trunk. I hear heated and crazed discussion from below us, discussing whether someone should climb up or just wait us out. By the hoots of glee it's probably someone is climbing up to us. I jump into the next tree and motion for Irma to follow me. She does. We both keep jumping and climbing like spiders over the needles of the pines until the crazed laughter and shrieks are far behind us. We stop and pant for breath, both confused and frightened by what just happened. I lean my head against the trunk and try to control my heavy breathing. What's going on? Were those people crazies or what? My mind stumbles through more questions and before I can grasp one thought I move onto the next. I shake my head and close my eyes. The close encounter has shaken me. I don't know why, maybe because I've never been chased by a group of maniacs before.

Their maniacal screams and laughs are still heard, but they're distant.

Suddenly a hand snakes around the branch of the tree and grabs my arm.

I freeze and a choked scream is torn from my throat.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

I bolt upright and hold back another scream. Cold sweat soaks my body. I woke up right as it was getting to the bad part. I almost laugh. The bad part. So we're making it a thing now. I sink back into the bed and manage to take control of my breath. Those were the worst few months of my life. I lost everything in those short six months. Everything. My dad, my best friend, my home, a part of my heart and a part of my soul. I take deep breaths and hear laughter snaking under the large sliding door of the room I rest in. I almost jump out my skin before I realize it's normal happy laughter. Not maniacal laughter like that from my memory. I remember the turtles who saved my life and healed me. Only physically though. It's going to take a lot longer to heal me mentally. My soul's been crushed too many times. I've felt too much loss. I sigh and try to stay awake again, only this time in the real world. I don't want to have to see any more memories. No more. I feel the threat of tears and hold them back. They won't do me much good anyway. Chills run through my back and head, spreading from my spine. I shiver, not because I'm cold, but because I'm afraid. What will happen now? Can I trust anyone? If I get close to anyone will they be taken from me like everyone else? I squeeze my eyes shut and try to summon a happy memory. I can't. I want to go back to my old life, one without Walkers and an apocalyptic world. I want my old life back. I sigh and open my eyes staring at the ceiling. I want everything to go back to the way it was before.

Before the bombs, before the Starting, before the Walkers, before the death and loss. I want everything to be the same as it was. I want my father back. My best friend. My life. Everything's been whacked up for two years though, so maybe I'll grow more used to it. Or maybe everything will fold out how destiny has it laid out. I don't know. I sigh as my heart aches for my family. I never really knew my mother, but my father is a whole different story. I lived with him for, oh, thirteen years before everything went haywire. Something faulted in the system and caused everything to tilt off balance. The world shifted for the worse. I want my life back. Sometimes I would dream everything was okay. It's not. I miss everything about my life. My school, my father, my best friend, my other friends, my home, the pigeons that would chill by my window. I even miss the annoying light of the street lamps. The sounds of horns honking and people talking. Oh, I hadn't heard someone talk in so long before I was saved by the turtles. Maybe I've lost a bit of my sanity too. Maybe it's all just a nightmare. I know it's not. I lay my head back and close my eyes. I feel weighed down by all I've been through. Lesser people would've snapped and gone mad by now. My life is really jacked up. I smile bitterly and turn my thoughts to my present life. It's plenty of insane, with giant turtles saving me and me healing up. I don't know how long I've been losing my sanity, but I think it's coming back now. I think I'll be alright as long as I never have to see another Walker in my whole life. Unfortunately, my wishes are ignored as a shout rings in my ears followed by a crash and something breaking, then a scream of madness that can only come from a Walker's throat.

I close my eyes and will myself to wake up but nothing happens.

This is really happening.

So a zombie found the lair!

I'll try to update as soon as possible.

Thanks!