Here it is, boys and girls! The sequel to Guardian! Hopefully a fresh plot and a change of perspective will get me inspired enough to keep the chapters coming as fast as you would like, but since I'm off at college now that may be a tad difficult.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Sanctuary! Yeah, it doesn't have much action, but I needed a chapter to set the scene before I start with all the gunplay and head-lopping.

I'm just gonna shut up now and let you read.

-O-

I hate mornings. Always have. That's the reason I could never hold down a steady job, 'cause I almost always slept in and came in to work late.

Well, that and beating a few asshole bosses half to death.

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I groaned and sat up slowly, the thin blanket sliding off my chest to pool in my lap. Zoey had already left for work - she and Bill had signed up with the security force almost as soon as we got here - so I was alone in our little 'house'.

Swinging my legs off the slightly lumpy mattress, I pushed myself to my feet, stretching. Shuffling over to what passed for a kitchen in this shithole, I poured myself a glass of Zombie Juice. Brewed by one of the guys in New Columbus - says he used to be a chemist before all this apocalypse shit - zombie juice earned its name from the fact that it tasted horrible. However, it had more caffeine, vitamins and shit in it than anything else I had ever tasted in my entire life, so we all quickly learned to shut up about the taste and just drink it.

Tossing back the foul-tasting stuff, I walked back to the bed area and got dressed, tugging on my jeans, white tank and leather vest. It was the same shit I'd worn throughout the apocalypse, and even the best efforts of the washing crew couldn't get all of the blood-and-entrails stink out of it. But at least it was fairly clean, and worlds better than it was before we arrived here.

Tugging on a pair of socks - newly-stitched ones, not the stench-ridden, tattered things that I had when I arrived - and stepping into my motorcycle boots, I strode over to the window, throwing open the curtains and looking out over the sprawling mass of makeshift houses, shanties and lean-tos that made up New Columbus.

The immunes-only city had surprised me with its sheer scale when I'd arrived. There must have been at least a thousand people living here, more people than I'd thought were left alive in the whole country. It was probably around nine or ten, the sun still low in the sky. The corrugated iron and scrap that made up a large part of the architecture here glimmered in the morning light, some of it bright enough that I had to shield my eyes. It was cool but not too cold, a light breeze blowing in to keep the air moving. All in all, a picturesque morning.

Ugh. I hate picturesque mornings. Way too goddamn cheerful for my tastes.

Turning away from the window, I strode back to the kitchen, the zombie juice coursing through my system having scorched the last remnants of my exhaustion from me. Pulling open a cupboard, I rummaged around inside for a minute, extracting a package of granola bars. The little things kept forever, didn't require refrigeration and were - relatively - healthy, so they had become something of a staple food in New Columbus.

Of course, it helped that the city had been founded around a shipping warehouse, and whatever son of a bitch had finally decided to clean the place out had discovered a huge shipment of granola bars in the back. I was starting to hate the damn things.

But food was food, and I was hungry. Tearing open the box, I pulled out two of the chewy bars and stuffed the container back into the cupboard. Scarfing up both bars, I chased them down with a glass of water, then picked up my little homemade toothbrush and toothpaste and gave my teeth a quick scrubbing. Oral hygiene was something everyone lacked during the apocalypse, and although you don't tend to think much of it under ordinary circumstances, you start missing it after a few weeks. It's good to have it back.

Finishing up, I strolled over and flopped back onto the bed for a moment. I had managed to find a job in construction, which in this case meant hauling scrap around and using it to build new homes for the occasional new arrivals. We hadn't had any in a while, so the other construction guys and I had been working on a new perimeter wall instead.

The bad part about the job was that it was goddamn hard work. The good part was that it was in the afternoon, so I could sleep in a little, unlike poor Bill and Zoey who had to report in to the security chief at 8:30 sharp every weekday.

That's another thing: the calendars here are royally screwed to hell. Nobody really knows what day it 'officially' is - or would be, if not for the apocalypse - so the first immigrants here basically re-started according to some calculations about the weather. Everyone's saying its Tuesday, September 27th, but for all we know it could 'officially' be Friday of the next week. But it works for us, and it keeps everyone on schedule, so who am I to complain?

Heaving a sigh, I lurched up into a sitting position, staring around the empty house. Before all this apocalypse shit, if you'd asked me I would've told you that I preferred being alone. Just me, my big black vintage Harley and the open asphalt was all I needed. Now? Now… I'm not so sure. My buddies, those three people who toughed it out with me, fought, bit and scratched to survive alongside me for three weeks of hell… they'd become family. More than family.

But especially Zoey. Zoey was… well, she was something else. From the moment I laid eyes on her, a part of me was in love. Of course, back then the rest of me was still Mr. Big Badass Biker Boy, and was trying to kick the shit out of that little part of me. It was only after we'd known each other for more than two weeks that I let myself open up to her… by tackling a Tank with nothing but Max, my hunting knife.

Got a concussion and a few broken ribs out of that one, but it was worth it. I don't know what I'd do without Zoey. She's the bravest, smartest, sweetest woman I've ever met, and the house just isn't the same without her around.

Pushing myself to my feet, I strolled over to the one and only mirror in the house. Small and a little cracked, it was all that the powers that be had managed to scavenge for us. All in all, we were lucky to get one at all - most people in New Columbus had to make do with a window, a particularly reflective pan, or whatever else they could use.

After a quick shave with my makeshift razor - my beard was starting to get a little out of control - I decided that being alone in this house was boring as hell, and headed out into the street.

-O-

That evening, I came home from working on the barrier wall to find Zoey sitting on our bed, her pistol - security workers were allowed a personal handgun - resting on the bedside table. She was fondling an old, faded photograph, and glanced up when I walked in.

"Hey babe," I said, walking over. I was about to lean in for a kiss when I saw the look on her face. My grin turning into a worried frown, I sat down on the bed next to her, draping an arm across her slim shoulders. "Hey, what's wrong?" I asked.

Zoey looked over at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and smiled sadly. "It's just something I saw out on patrol today… nothing much."

I knew she was bullshitting - we'd been through hell together, and both seen and done things that aren't fit to be spoken of in polite company. Or any company at all. To have her this shaken up, whatever she'd seen must have been pretty bad.

"You wanna talk about it?" I asked, pulling Zoey closer to me. She leaned against my chest, and after a long, long pause she started speaking.

"Today my squad went out of New Columbus on one of our routine sweeps of the surrounding countryside. We came to an abandoned farmhouse, not more than a mile from the city's edge. It… it was barricaded up. Seriously barricaded. It took us twenty minutes of prying with crowbars just to open the front door."

She took a deep breath to fortify herself, and continued. "Whoever had lived there was seriously prepared. They had about a hundred pounds of canned food in the basement, and half again as much had already been eaten, judging by the empty cans. They could have held out for months with the amount of supplies they had."

I felt cold start seeping into the pit of my stomach; I knew where this was going.

"Then we headed upstairs. The largest bedroom - there were three - was… it was an abattoir, Francis. Blood was everywhere. A few bodies were scattered around on the floor, and… two of them were kids, couldn't have been older than twelve. Someone had written on the walls in their blood; 'They're watching us', over and over and over again."

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, and gave Zoey a little squeeze. "It's okay, babe. These things were bound to happen eventually. Zombie apocalypse ain't all that good for people's sanity."

Taking a long, shuddering breath, Zoey said "I know… I guess it was just the shock that got me. After all this time, I'd almost forgotten that the world's practically ended… almost forgot about the horrors going on outside our walls. Having it shoved into my face again…" she trailed off, and I leaned over, planting a kiss on her temple.

She wrapped her arms around my torso, scooted closer to me on the bed and murmured "…Thanks, Francis. For listening to me, and just being there for me."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for, love," I replied, then looked down at the photo in her hands. It was badly faded, and displayed a girl I immediately recognized as a younger Zoey standing hand-in-hand with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a police uniform. I immediately saw the resemblance. "Your dad?" I asked quietly, brushing a stray lock Zoey's hair into place behind her ear.

She nodded, and reached up to swipe at her eyes before saying "Yeah, that's him. We're standing together in front of the police station he worked at, right after his first - and only - big promotion. This… this picture was one of the only things I was able to save from my dorm room when I ran off after you." She smiled up at me, and added "You remind me of him sometimes. He was big, strong, bull-headed and would have died to protect me… just like you."

At a loss for words, I pulled her towards me for a kiss. Our lips melted together as she slid further onto my lap, and I reached a hand up to the back of her head, running my fingers through her beautiful dark hair. Falling backwards onto the bed and taking her with me, I ran my free hand down her side, feeling her smooth curves, the muscles flexing beneath her jacket - and surviving the apocalypse had given her more than her fair share of those - all the way down to her hips. I felt her hands cupping my head, fingers trailing along my hard jawline, and I broke away for a moment, staring up into my Zoey's amazing eyes. The emerald orbs were huge and smoldering, and I grinned, moving my hand from her hair to the side of her face, caressing her cheek. "I love you," I whispered, and she leaned in close, close enough that I could feel her breath tingling my cheek as she murmured "I love you too, big guy."