Carlisle sat inside of the tent he had been sharing with Esme. He and Edward had been taking turns guarding the area at night when each of them attempted to catch a few hours of sleep.

Sleep was hard to come by in the world they were thrown into. No one had asked for the apocalyptic disease to wipe out what seemed like half of the human race. Carlisle found himself to be in complete disarray over the fact that he, a well respected doctor, couldn't help people when they needed him the most.

The truth was, there was no cure. The plague had spread too fast and the once civil human beings had transformed into mindless monsters with a taste for human flesh.

Carlisle had worked on his last patients until the dead took over the hospital; the walking dead.

He had barely made it out alive and luckily his wife had demanded that Edward take her to the hospital to pick him up when things really started to get out of hand. Had she not, he may have fallen with the masses of others as the zombified humans took over the building.

The three of them had been on their own since, and though it had only been two weeks, it felt like months or years since the world had been right.

"Do you think anyone else made it?" Esme looked at him hopelessly with one response in mind. She needed to know there were others left.

Carlisle looked at her and tucked her beneath his arm. He kissed her forehead, "There has to be."

Esme sighed heavily, releasing all of her emotion in a deep exhale. "I didn't know if you were alive when Edward took me to the hospital."

Carlisle tightened his grip around her. "There's a reason we've made it this far. We'll find others eventually."

"Do you believe that?" Her eyes tilted upward, and all she wanted was his reassurance.

He met her stare. "I do." Carlisle touched his lips gently to hers, "thank you for coming for me. I owe you my life, Esme."

"I could never do this without you. I can't lose you, Carlisle."

"You won't," he assured her, "The three of us will never separate.

" I hope you're right."

Carlisle kissed her once more and then laid flat on his back. Esme cuddled up against him.

"Try to get some sleep," he told her, "You never know when we'll have to pick up and go."

Esme closed her eyes and clutched the front of his sweatshirt. She felt anxious from his last sentence, but exhaustion won the battle and Esme drifted off to sleep.

Carlisle laid next to her feeling the heaviness in his eyes. He always fought off sleep until the very last second when his brain and body shut down simultaneously and he was forced into a dreamland where things were better, or a nightmare where things were, perhaps, worse.

Edward tucked the side of the zippered opening of the tent to the side, and Carlisle focused his attention to him just as his eyes had firmly shut.

"Sorry," he whispered, "There's one by the woods line."

Carlisle was about to sit up, but Edward shook his head and motioned for him to lay down. They both glanced at Esme, who hadn't stirred.

"She's exhausted," Edward whispered again, "I've got this one. There's only one of them."

"No." Carlisle shook his head in protest, whispering back.

Edward flashed a machete he'd been sporting for nearly a week. "We're up in the mountains, Carlisle. There's no one up here but us. I could see him from a distance. Just lend me your ears, that's all. It's what the lookout is all about."

Carlisle wanted to protest, but Edward was confident and adamant enough, and he was far too tired to argue. He nodded and rested his head back down on one of the few pillows they had. Despite how badly he wanted to drift away, out of the chaotic world they lived in, he waited and listened.

There was silence for several seconds. He counted to himself, getting all the way up to twenty-three before he heard the hacking sound and some low growling and gurgling sounds.

Carlisle hated the new world. He hated killing, even the dead, for they were once people, too. On the other hand, he was a man of reason and he understood that they posed a grave threat to his family, and to any other human being that may still be alive. They were rabid animals just waiting to infect the living, and so he never argued when one had to be put down. While Carlisle hadn't done much of the killing, he had taken his part when protecting Esme and aiding in saving all of their lives on more than one occasion. It was out of his nature, though slowly he was beginning to realize that the line of good and evil, right and wrong, was severely skewed and forever shattered.

By some miracle, he, Esme and Edward had made it up into the mountains high above the town they once called home, though they knew they couldn't stay there forever. Winter was right around the corner, and sooner or later the dead would come. They would run out of food in the town and they would flounder the forests for food.

Those are thoughts for another day, he told himself.

Edward peeked back in the tent, hiding the blood-covered machete. "Coast is clear," he whispered, looking at Esme again. "Get some sleep... both of you."