If there was one thing Zoey had learned, from the time the infection started to the time it ended, it was that she had to think fast. Every second mattered; one second could change the whole situation.
As a new herd came charging down the street she barely had enough time to register what had occurred during the last swarm. Louis didn't get his head taken off; almost did, but managed to get out of the way in time. Bill was fine. Francis had been chased by one down the street, out of sight, and he hadn't come back yet.
'Francis!' The fear shot through her, real and harsh. She turned and ran down the street to where she had last seen him heading.
Bill and Louis yelled as their gunshots went off into the night air. Zoey didn't know nor care about what they were saying.
She caught sight of a body farther down the road near an alley way, with its head blown off, leaving areas of the pavement dyed a deep red. In the entrance of the small alley way lay a figure huddled up into fetal position.
Even from where she stood then she could see that he was badly injured; possibly to the point where he couldn't be fixed.
"Francis. Francis!"
No answer. She kept running.
When she got closer to him she could see that the pavement wasn't the only thing dyed red. His shirt was torn and so was that damned vest he always wore. Streaks of blood ran down his entire body in several directions at once. Looks may be deceiving but this time it was clear that he wouldn't make it another ten minutes in this life.
Gunfire ceased and Zoey began to panic. She had to move on with Bill and Louis if she wanted to live, but she couldn't just leave Francis here to bleed to death. Or worse, have one of the infected find him again.
Slowly she lifted the gun that she held in her right hand up higher.
"Zoey! We have to go!"
Louis' scream was hardly heard by her. She gripped the gun tighter as she looked down at Francis. His breaths were ragged and sharp. He could barely keep his eyes open.
Bill yelled at her, "Now!"
It seemed to have a double-meaning in that moment, like he knew what she had to do. She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped down on the trigger.
The shot rang in her ears for years to come, even after they escaped and she had grown old. There were no ragged nor sharp breaths coming from Francis anymore.
But the memory of them never faded.