I take the stairs two at a time before reaching the well-worn hallway that leads to room 250. I come to the familiar door that has peeling green paint and is missing a couple numbers. It creaks as it swings inwards. Inside are three people, two male and one female. In their hands they each hold one weapon that is pointed towards me.

"That's the welcoming I get?" My arms are folded across my chest while an amused expression plays across my face.

Mark's blue eyes glance over me so quickly I wonder if I just imagined it. He has on a blue button up shirt and straight legged jeans that are frayed at the bottom. On his feet are worn black loafers. In his neatly trimmed blonde hair are specks of grey. He's 43 years old.

Mark looks at me with surprise, "You look like you've been through hell and back."

"Sounds about right," I laugh humorlessly.

Greg looks at me with genuine shock on his face. "I thought you were… the military… how'd you get out?"

Greg is younger than Mark by 3 years. He has on blue jeans and a brown t-shirt. Greg has aqua eyes and dark brown hair. His tennis shoes are old and turning pink despite their original red color.

I simply state, "I set some bombs and shot more than a few people. It could have gone either way. I got lucky."

Alexia observes me without saying much as per her usual. She has her father's dark blue eyes. Her hair is naturally red color with a brownish tint to it. For her attire she has on blue jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt. On her feet are brown leather boots. She's 22 and Mark's kid.

"So what are you guys up to?" I ask gesturing to the open map on the table.

"Dad was planning a rescue mission for you," Alexia answers.

"Mark we talked about this. I could have been dead. What were you going to do risk your life, Greg's life for a corpse?" I raise an eyebrow.

Mark looks me straight in the eyes, "The thought of it, you being trapped by the military, unable to escape, to make it home. It was eating me alive. I just-I couldn't leave you there. I-"

He stops when the door swings open. I turn towards it. It's a man with black hair and brown eyes. He has a darker skin color and is wearing the uniform that identifies him as military. He looks about my age. 35-37. I instinctively tense up and take my combat knife from its holster.

Mark puts his hand on my shoulder, "Ella, it is okay. I asked him to come here. This is Demetrius."

"He's the enemy," I say flabbergasted.

"We have the same enemy sweetheart. It goes by the name of the cordyceps fungus," Demetrius retorts with a smirk.

"Mark …what the hell is going on?" I ask.

Demetrius pulls Mark off to the side. "Mark you know that other thing I was talking to you about. It's happening tonight."

Mark's voice comes out worried, "Tonight?"

Demetrius nods in confirmation.

So Demetrius was where Mark had heard the rumor about the San Francisco safe zone and how it would meet its demise. Turns out it wasn't much of a rumor after all. It came directly from someone in the know-how.

"I thought they were going to wait till they had the proper supplies. Last I heard we had a few more weeks," Greg mutters.

Demetrius doesn't look surprised that Greg knows. Instead he looks hesitant. He seems to choose his words carefully before responding, "Some people from my unit came across a group of survivors when they were scavenging an area just south of here. The survivors had what my unit needed."

I clench my jaw. Greg and I had been scavenging in that area. Demetrius unit was probably the one we had encountered. Those people he was talking about could have easily been us. Naturally I hate Demetrius and everything his uniform encompasses. It's a symbol of the very thing that was supposed to be providing order but instead was causing chaos. It made it impossible to develop a functioning community again, because once you did the military was there to destroy it. It may not be immediate but they did come.

18 years earlier

I close my eyes. The shouts and screams of my parents echo in my ears. My siblings and I are surrounded. The military is everywhere. There are bodies thudding to the ground and shots being fired off. Just when I think I'm home free my older sister goes down leaving me and my younger brother to run off into the woods. Even when we think we're safe we keep running. The military seems omnipresent and I feel trapped. Tears slip out of my brother's eyes. I have a grime expression and my jaw's clenched.

I knew we shouldn't have stayed with the farmer and the group of survivors he had gathered. Such a big group was bound to draw the military's attention, so much for being able to establish a self-sustaining community. I still don't know how the military was able to get through our defenses. We had a large gate made from whatever sturdy materials we could find and armed sentries watching over the make-do town. In that instant I realize that a false sense of security is just as bad as the cordyceps fungus itself.

I'm taken back to the present by Mark shaking my shoulder and softly calling my name. "Ella, Ella."

I look at Mark, "Sorry. I just … got trapped in my head is all."

Mark looks worried, "You alright?"

I look at the prying faces before stopping on Mark's and faking a smile, "Just dandy."

"Mark we've got to go," Demetrius says impatiently breaking mine and Mark's eye contact.

Mark runs a hand across his face, "Uh yeah… just give us some time to pack."

Alexia, Greg, Mark and I all move around the medium sized apartment grabbing things here and there as we fill our bags with useful supplies. Looks like I wouldn't be getting some much needed sleep after all. I feel dead on my feet, but force myself to keep moving. Before too long we're all packed up and mentally preparing ourselves for survival on the outside.

Demetrius has changed from his military get up into some of Mark's clothes. He uses his hand to gesture around him, "You guys ready to abandon this crappy ass apartment?"

"Considering our options are to stay here and go down with the city or leave, I would say… yeah I am," I reply with a hint of bitterness.

"I still can't believe the military thinks that some super bug version of the disease is present only here. That'd be fine and all if they weren't using such drastic measures to contain it. I mean what do they think is going to happen that hasn't already," Greg grumbles.

Mark sighs, "Military's not what it used to be."

"That's for sure," Demetrius agrees.

Greg is the first to exist the apartment. The rest of us follow after him. It feels like we're going on another supply run, but at the same time it doesn't. There's a pressing force of a time limit. If we don't make it out in time then we'll go down in flames with the rest of the city.