I pressed my back against the freezing iron door. Gasps fluttered through me as my breathing slowed down. The few moans and whispers given by what was left of the undead gave me a headache.
Out of no where, I heard a dry and pathetic sob. Was it a witch? If so, I hadn't heard it until now. But there was no way it was in the safe house. I could feel my knees start to buckle a little bit. I've seen someone attacked by a witch before, and they never survived without any help. And I was alone.
Luckily I had picked up some sneakers along the way, so they didn't make any noise as I tip-toed down the aisle. "Hello? Anyone there?" My own voice stunned me. From behind me a heard a cardboard box fall, fruit and water bottles rolling on the uneven concrete floor. Another sob.
A boy stood up from the corner. He looked weary and grimy with his torn pants. "Hi." A smile had reached my face. Finally, another human. One that's not infected. However he didn't look so blissful.
"Stay away from me." The look in his eyes was risky and alert, tinted with a bit of woe. They were a dull blue, like as if the color had been drained out of them. In his right hand was a gun. A shotgun. Something that could kill me in one blast. "Your infected, I know it!" He stepped out from the corner, allowing me to see him. From the way he was holding the gun, something looked wrong.
"I swear I'm not infected. I've never even got bitten." I held my hands up to my shoulders. There was no way I was going to give myself up completely. Suddenly his eyes were filled with regret, which quickly turned in to caution. "Not as if to say that I trust you, but hello."