The trio ran at their top speed, taking random turns, tripping over each other, and fighting to be ahead. By the time they were out of the alley, they had found themselves back at the hotel where they started. Stopping by a car, the three took a moment to catch their breath. Worried glances were exchanged, but the suprisingly unfit nations didn't speak as they gasped for the air they expended on their way back. Prussia seemed most shaken of all, as his eyes were still wide, the image of the bloodied and torn man was burnt into his mind to stay.
Their break was cut short as a scream tore through the air. They all immediately were upright, standing and poised to run again.

"Who-what the hell was that?" Prussia demanded, still breathing heavily. The scream ripped the air again- shrill and agonizing. Hearing it was enough to give Prussia a headache. He winced. The bloodcurdling yell continued for seconds, that felt like hours. By the time it had ended, he was curled up with his knees to his chest, covering his ears. The pain in his forehead was terrible- throbbing, pulsating pain. His ears were ringing by the time it ended. Standing cautiously, he looked at his companions- Spain was terrified and shaking, his eyes the size of saucers. France just looked disturbed, hiding his face with his hair and shuddering slightly.
The three were stirred by a cold wind passing. As it picked up, France looked to the sky- storm clouds had gathered, the dark, eerie shade of grey giving the whole situation an ominous atmosphere. Small taps could be heard as minute droplets of rain began to collect on the pavement, turning the pale concrete into a canvas of deep grey spots. They all covered their heads as a sudden downpour started- drenching them in cold rain.

France looked to the hotel, prepared to go in that direction for shelter from the rain- as he looked on, he realized it was becoming trickier to see farther on. A hefty fog was developing from the mixed weather conditions. The sound of thunder grew loud in the distance, and he took it as a sign that staying outdoors for the while wasn't the smartest option.

As he looked for the door to the hotel, he gently nudged each of his companions to get them moving. They all carefully made their way to the giant inviting building before them. France continued to try and peer through the thick fog- he could almost swear he saw some motion coming from its recesses. His heartbeat picked up, and he shook his head to clear his mind. Drops of water were sent flying from his long, now soaked and matted hair. The wind had picked up to a dangerous rate now- the three had to push their weight in the desired direction to defy its strength. Maneuvering around a few more cars, they were only yards away from the building- and France finally realized what he had seen. He counted how many there were- approaching from the bowels of the fog from either side of the building. Bodies. They walked slowly, but he could hear them- the groaning, screeching, and hissing. He could see the blood that washed off of them into the puddles of constantly growing rain. They were all like that man they had seen. They weren't normal. And they were all making their way towards them.

Biting his lip in effort to keep calm, France picked up pace. The other two nations frowned, eyeing eachother in agreed curiosity. They sped up to keep up with the leading country, doing their best to shield their eyes from the downpour. France could hardly hear the corpses anymore- which was good. He had no intention of telling Spain or Prussia. It would just stir things up. He would let them find out on their own.
Finally reaching the building, the small group was quickly relieved by the shelter the wall alone provided from the powerful wind, shaking from the cold of being soaked. France pushed open a side door, probably for deliveries brought to the hotel to refill vending machines or to restock the kitchen, accepting the small gust of clean air as they entered the warm and inviting room.

The main lobby of the hotel had been cleared, a system of desks arranged into an oval for the initial conference remained. The lights were out, a sign that everyone had long ago left, and that the hotel wasn't in operation for the remainder of the day. In the center of the oval, it seemed a small makeshift tent had been pitched- a large blanket with teddy-bears on it, with the shadows of two figures cast along the side by what appeared to be the light of a flashlight.

"I told you to stop eating dammit! You're going to waste ALL the bloody food, and then what do we eat?!"

"Dude just calm down okay? Theres a ton more in the kitchen, were set for days! And you can have these brick things, they taste gross..."

"Those are scones you git! How many times have I told you that?"

"Prolly like... A million. Oh hey bro could you gimme some of that ranch? I like ranch on my burger."

"You like EVERYTHING on your burger."

"Exactly, so hand it over will ya?"

France's bothered expression grew into a grin as he listened, taking in who all occupied the tent. Glancing at Prussia and Spain (who unanimously nodded their approval of some unspoken plan), he then began to slink up on the tent. He moved quietly, the drenched boots muffling any sound he made. As he loomed over the tent, grinning, neither of the occupants seemed to be aware of the approaching man.

Spain and Prussia fought to contain any incoming laughter. Ripping away the blanket, he tackled the closest occupant- a blonde man with a green uniform and bushy eyebrows- with a sopping we hug. The man immediately was yelling and thrashing frantically, fighting to get away from his captor. The opposite remaining man fell back and laughed, clutching a burger close and trying in weak effort not to overturn his drink.

"Alfred! Alfred they're inside, they made it in! HELP ME YOU GIT, OR I SWEAR-"
France's captor was cut short by a laugh coming from his companions, laughter that was more than recognizable. The last laugh seeped from France, hugging his catch close. "So, mon chere, why heaven you come looking for me~? You were not worried for my safety, England?"

"No you bloody frog, and all I'd have to say if you were killed is good riddance! Now get off of me!" England growled, wrenching free. He looked down at his soaked uniform, sighing. He looked back up at France with disdain, bearing an infamous scowl. "I was halfway hoping you were dead by now."

Prussia and Spain both were whispering in secret about the earlier encounter. And unknowing to France, they had both seen the mass of corpses coming for them. They knew it had spooked France into moving faster- and they now knew that England and America were aware of it too. It was weird. But what were those things they had seen, anyway? What about them (besides their disgusting appearances made them so terrifying? France must know something. Coming to a quiet conclusion, they both decided on finding their relatives and loved ones. A few lights were on in the stairwell, they both noticed, and the elevator was clearly working. They knew many other countries had stayed, and it was already late- many of them would be asleep.

"Frenchie!" Prussia called. "Were gonna go check upstairs for Romano and mein bruder, kay? We'll be back in a bit. If we don't find 'em I'm probably gonna go get me some awesome beauty sleep. "
France nodded, giving them a smile. The two jogged off to the stairs, Prussia ranting about how he was sure West was fine but he felt like he needed to check anyway.

"So when the hell did you find out, frog? You three have been gone for hours. We thought you mightve died." England asked. France looked back at them from having his attention at the stairs, frowning. Hours? That's not even possible.

"Just awhile ago. " he said. A small hesitation after the beginning of the sentence made Britain's eyes glint with doubt, but it was quickly dismissed. What does the frog know anyway?

America watched them talk quietly. England kept throwing questions Frances way. Why did he come back? What all did he see? Did he know anything about the corpses that was important or useful? The last question was avoided. France answered with lots of hesitation, keeping his eyes on the wall instead of England's this time. Something wasn't right about the way France seemed so... Distant, about it? Or did he seem like he had a secret? Yea, he thought. Secrets always make for guilty consciences. Guilt is easily seen... But... What could France be hiding that would make him guilty? That involved the zombies? America laughed a bit to himself. All the video games weren't for nothing! Zombies. Simple to deal with, if you don't let yourself get overwhelmed. I'll probably be the only one who even knows how to deal with these things! He thought. I'll be a real hero when I save all their asses!

When the questioning was over, France, England, and America decided it best to sleep. The doors were blocked with desks, and the curtains were pulled tight over the windows and blocked with televisions and more desks, and varying objects found throughout the main floor. Bidding eachother a more or less polite farewell and good night, France and the others made their way to their designated room. Each room had been decorated for their stay, and France did love his. It was a small room, his flag was hung on one side, roses were in a neat vase on the desk, the mini-fridge was stocked with wine (which costed extra, but he didn't really care) and other small changes and commodities that made him feel slightly more at home. Although, he thought, this would never make up for the real thing. He sighed. He was sure his home was safe, but he hadn't expected the infection to reach America so quickly. Shutting his door, France peeled off his soaked clothes down to his polo and boxers, lazily plopping onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling in worry, letting his thoughts wander in guilt as to what would happen next, until finally his eyes closed, and he was led into a less than peaceful sleep.

~~Nearby, only minutes earlier~~

"N-no! No stop! You don't have to attack me!"
Canada wearily backed up from a large group of the disgusting creatures, the undead masses coming from more distances to the sound of a living voice.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Why doesn't anyone understand? Its not my fault!" He yelled, tears forming in his eyes. They followed him. All the way to the conference from his home.

He smiled, a sad, broken and hopeful smile. "Look! See?" he yelled. He pulled back his collar to reveal a single little mark, a small dot no bigger than a grain of sand. From the dot, his veins were visible, having turned into a blackish shade of red under his pale and sick skin. They faded as they spread, showing that whatever it was that was in his neck had not fully consumed nor impaired him.

"I'm like you! I can't even..." His voice trailed off in thought, still backing away from the hoarde that advanced to him. His smile grew sadly, and laughter gurgled up in his throat. Sick, disturbing laughter, weak with mental wear. "... I can't even eat food anymore. I found all that works anymore is human meat. I know how you all feel, you hear me?! It's horrible! I know! I'm so sorry! You hear me?!" he shrieked, tears rolling down his face. He felt cold needles gently beginning to prick his skin- his paranoia was relieved when he realized it was rain. He looked to the sky, as the clouds gathered. Heavy rain mixed with his tears, and he finally backed into the wall of the hotel he had been staying at for the conference. He looked down sadly at his only companion- A small little polar bear. What was his name? Canada never could remember. Began with a K, right? It didn't matter. They'll kill him too...

Canada was pulled out of his thoughts by a horrible sensation in his arm- While he had been daydreaming, the undead had made it upon him. The first had ahold of his arm, just on the side of his wrist. He screamed as the woman bore her teeth deep into his skin- he felt them scrape his bone as she prepared to cut the flesh from him. As she pulled, he let his scream carry once more- another had his shoulder and was doing the same. A ripping noise slowly made it to his ears, the sensation of sinew being detached from his arm was sickening. He felt every strand being broken and ripped away, muscle being torn from its very place. He screamed in agony, tears falling rapidly as more of them came to join the feast. They sound of flesh being ripped from his arm reached its climax, and he himself couldn't deny... It sounded great. He was starving. So hungry. He hadn't let himself eat in days. He knew the consequences.

Canada slowly let his body become numb with the pain. His vision blurred- everything seemed to be in slow motion. He could see all the dead bodies climbing over each other, fighting to get a taste of fresh blood as the crowd seemed to raise itself over him, spilling over with the undead that all wanted the same thing.

Oh... You are all such terrible hunters... He thought. He laughed. This meat is hardly any good, but you all indulge as if its a bite of the last meat in the world...

He watched, all silent but his laughter, as they struggled to feast on his body. They pulled each other away, and seemed to fight each other to a point where he wasn't sustaining as much injury anymore. He saw a white and red creature being feasted on by one of the nearby monsters. No. He thought. You can't have him. He's mine. Reaching out, he managed to tear the animal from the grasp of the monster, who shrieked in rage, but was attacked by a nearby creature of its kin, to battle over who got the meal. Canada held the creature tight in his arms, and was surprised as the dead started leaving. He could hear footsteps in the distance. The slam of a door. He stayed quiet- they react to sound, of course. Let them feast while I die in peace, he thought. I should have never agreed. Never. He quietly pulled chunks of loose meat off of the shivering wounded animal in his arms, being gentle but with bad cause. He snacked on the loose bits, and stopped when there was nothing else. He didn't want to eat this bear. He was the only one who hadn't abandoned him when he, Arthur, and Alfred had found the hoarde. He sat there against the wall, letting the rain wash the blood away. Hopefully he would have time to fix this mess.
Hopefully.