A long way down.

I position myself carefully against the musky smelling, blood stained wall. I lifted my gaze from the ground below me, feeling the world around me swirl. The ledge under my feet seemed fragile, its edges softly crumbling with every swift move I make. I paced my movements along the ledge with the pace of my throbbing heart—I am afraid. My nails claw into the wall behind me, the angry rain pounded against my face, and the only thing I could think about is falling down to my death.

"Come on, sweetheart!" Rochelle motioned to me with her hand, the rain barely making it visible. "You can do it! Just slide a little closer to me!"

I looked at her faintly, almost losing my balance. Her soft, pink shirt and blue jeans were soaked to a darker shade because of the rain. She was the first out of the whole group to reach the other side of the building.

We could no longer fight so many zombies with little ammunition. Sadly, the only way to safety from the horde behind us was through this ledge. The worst part? An even bigger horde of zombies awaited us on ground level. Either way, Death constantly stalked me. I sighed, sealing my emotions in my throat.

Following me along the ledge, Nick sighed impatiently. I swallowed nervously. My fear of heights held me like a whimpering dog on a leash.

"We would have been better off staying where we were in the beginning," Nick whispered loudly enough for me to hear. I rolled my eyes in response.

I stumbled quickly sideways towards Rochelle.

"Whoa—" I gasped.

Rochelle swiftly extended both of her arms towards me as I lost my balance. I grasped onto her, sliding effortlessly off the ledge. She panicked, falling forward because of my sudden weight. Luckily, she hit the roof of the building instead of falling off with me.

"Ohhh," She moaned wearily. "This is bad!"

Her tight grip on my arms didn't weaken despite her obvious pain.

"I knew it!" Nick mocked me, quickly moving towards the building from the ledge.

I could feel Rochelle's grip loosen on my arms. The sweat of her palms continued to slide me further down to the ground and horde below. I tried to grab onto the ledge before I kept sliding down but that was near impossible. The horde below me was not my worst fear—it was the height of the fall. Not even the horde could climb up towards us. I wouldn't survive the fall. My heart throbbed anxiously.

"Nick!" I heard my dad yell. The fear in his voice was clear.

I wondered if his fearful, angry tone would be the last time I would hear his voice before the fall. The emotions of such a thought swelled into my eyes. Rochelle's grip continued to weaken—she was now holding my wrists. She groaned, using every last ounce of energy she had to try and pull me up. It didn't work. The grip she had on my wrists now moved to my hands. Her sweat and the rain did no help to my situation.

"Quickly, quickly!" Dad panicked. "Help pull her up!"

Louis followed Nick quickly, finally reaching the building safety. Dad quickly followed behind Louis anxiously; I could hear the fear in his panting. No sign of his usual optimism still existed. He just wasn't ready to lose his only daughter.

Nick reached the edge of the building and grabbed my wrists. Louis grabbed my arms. Rochelle finally let me go, knowing that her help would be no longer needed.

"Everything's going to be okay!" Louis smiled reassuringly as he saw my cheeks turn a bright red.

I felt like such a burden. Nick stared at me silently, almost angrily. To him, I am a burden. Both men pulled me up effortlessly. I rested my knees on the edge of the building as I crawled towards safety.

"Baby—" Dad stuttered as he carefully moved from the ledge to the building. "Are you okay?"

I sighed softly. I could live for another day.

Francis followed my father, finally reaching the building. My mother slowly moved closer, leaving a huge gap between her and Francis. Coach was patiently following her. In a few minutes, my family was complete. We all made it safely across the ledge from building to building.

These people are my family: Mom, Dad, Rochelle, Nick, Coach, Francis, and Louis. I've been with them since as long as I remember. Before I knew how to read, my family taught me how to hold, shoot, and re-load a gun. I learned the basics of survival—something much needed in the cold, harsh world I live in. I am fourteen years old, and the only world I know about consists of the infected, the immune, and the carriers.

I am neither.

"Uncle Francis!" I yelled while watching a Smoker swiftly grab a hold on him.

The rest of my family re-loaded their weapons quickly, but sometimes, it's just a little too late. Uncle Francis struggled as he was quickly dragged towards a different building. I pulled myself off the ground and sprinted towards him. In a few seconds, I reached and grasped onto the Smoker's tongue, which was already constricting. The Smoker coughed fiercely, feeling my harmful touch. Uncle Francis gasped for air as the Smoker's tongue retreated.

I am not normal in the world I live in. No type of infected will ever come near or touch me. If I ever find myself face to face with one, they keep their distance, simply staring at me from afar. They stare at me curiously as if I am food, yet do not dare touch me as if they know I can hurt them. I feel as if there is some type of invisible barrier around me.

I knew that if I were to touch the Smoker that was hurting Uncle Francis, he would retreat. My touch scars them enough to run away from me.

I am not normal. Why?

Because I am the cure to the infection.