Being around his territory, Canada knew of a place nearby that they could go to. An old fort with reinforced sidings, where he was pretty sure contained a radio. The only problem was, it was in a heavily populated area, and given their current state... that wasn't a highlight.

"If we're going into this stuff, man, then you gotta lend me one of them guns." Cuba turned around in his seat to where America and Canada were going over their inventory.

America glanced up from the glock in his hands. He set it down and took hold up a machine gun laying next to him. After checking the rounds, to make sure it was loaded properly, he flipped it over to hand the butt of it to Cuba. "As long as you don't shoot me."

Cuba snorted, re-checked the ammo. "We've fallen into a bond of trust, for the moment. I'm not going to do anything to break it."

"Good to know. I'd rather have you guardin' my back than stabbin' it." Grasping another rifle, America double-checked, then handed it to his brother. Canada stared at the offer, a bit unsure. "I uh, still have the pipe."

America cocked a brow at him. "Matthew."

"Al, I don't like guns. You know this."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." America slid closer, placing the gun in his brother's hands. "I'll teach you how to use it. You have to know these things." He pushed it into his hands, but Canada shoved it back. "I know how to use it, I just don't like to. Blunt objects just make more sense for this situation."

America growled, shoving it back. "Take it, just in case."

"I don't need it."

"I need you to have it."

"Alfred, why is this so important to you?"

"Because, I need to know that you'll be safe, if I'm not around." America growled. "I need to know that you can take care of yourself."

Canada's concern grew stronger, with his twin seeming so uneasy. No matter what was happening, America always seemed immovable with anything he had to face. It was kind of scary to think that he was scared. "I can take care of myself." Canada hesitated, not sure he wanted to know what was going through his brother's mind. "Why won't you be around?"

America started, taken aback. He wasn't expecting him to ask that. "Just-just in case, y'know. There's no telling what can happen."

"Like what?"

He raked a hand through his hair, trying to avoid his twin's eyes. "I dunno. Just something. We're in a war now. Anything could happen." America growled, feeling his aggravation spike again. "Will you stop looking at me like that. Did you not know what's going on out there?"

Canada's eyes shifted down to the gun still in his hands. "I know perfectly well what's going on." He looked back up at America. "I'm just starting to get a little worried about you."

America's eyes narrowed a bit, unsure. "Worried about me? Why?"

"You're acting weird. It's like you're really scared of these things."

"What?" His expression fell in disbelief. "Are you crazy? Of course I'm scared. I'd have to be some kind of idiot not to be."

"You mean, you're not?" Cuba commented, and he and Mexico laughed.

America spun around to them, his eyes flared in anger. "Shut up! Nobody was taking to you."

Mexico's laughter died down a bit. "Heh, sorry, Amigo, but you have been acting a bit weird. Usually you're so gung ho for this kinda crap. Figured you'd be all revved up and ready to bust some un-dead heads."

"This is a lot more serious than that. I don't wanna get myself killed by these flesh-eating freaks." He slumped back against the side of the van. "I know I don't always think things through, but I feel like we have to now. All I care about is trying to keep us safe."

Canada watched Alaska move over and lay her head in her master's lap. She whined slightly, and he started rubbing her ears. "Al, what happened?"

America just stared down at his dog. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, I'm going to anyway." Canada slid closer, folding his legs in, and trying to get his brother to look at him. "You're starting to worry me. It's not just fear. You keep saying you want to keep us safe, but it almost sounds like you don't believe we will be."

"We can take care of ourselves, y'know." Cuba called back, a note of condescension in his voice. "We don't need, or really want you to do it."

"I didn't say you couldn't."

"You're sure as hell acting like it."

"Don't you two start up again." Canada snapped. He sighed, turning his attention back to America. "I get that you don't want to seem weak, but if something's bothering you I have a right to know."

"I told you not to worry about it." Seeing the uncertainty not waning from Canada's eyes, America forced himself to relax, and leaned forward, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm just a bit on edge, with everything that's been going on. I'm scared, and I didn't really get much sleep last night." He shrugged, trying to laugh it off. "So, there's a few things, but nothing major to worry about." For the first time, since he'd been there, his smile closed in on genuine. "I'm alright."

Canada still wasn't completely satisfied, but once his brother decided not to tell him something there was never any use in fighting it. His stubbornness typically saw to that. Canada sighed, finally relenting. "Fine. I guess you'll tell me when you're ready."

America groaned, rolling his eyes. "You're so stubborn, y'know that?"

Canada beamed proudly. "Yea, I know."

"Now, will you just take the damn gun?"

xXx

As smooth sailing as the highways were, once they grew closer to the fort, the evident horde of civilization was growing stronger. America had reloaded Cuba's gun and gave it back to him as well, now positioning as many as he could into his own holsters. Canada was sitting in between the two front seats directing Mexico towards the fort. There was a tense hush in the van, only broken by Canada's directed whispers. "Just drive slowly." There did seem to be a decrease, from the cold, but considering it was still technically summer, it wasn't terribly cold. For once, Canada was wishing for snow.

A small pack of zombies were crowded around what might have been a moose at one point, digging their hands into the flesh. Cuba and America kept their guns on them, just in case they decided to head towards the van.

"We're almost there. Just a few more blocks." Canada glanced back at his brother, nearly feeling his tension flooding over him. Course that could have also been his own. He sighed, feeling sick to his stomach. Canada's eyes landed on the gun sitting next to him. His hand shook a bit, before he reached out to grab it, and slid it into the holster America had forced onto his back. This was crazy. How could all of this happen?

"Which way?"

Canada looked up to see a fork in the road ahead. He stood up on his knees, trying to see around the corner, and pointed to the left. "It's just around this corner."

They all jumped when America broke out the back window and fired off a few rounds. Mexico looked out his window to see what he was shooting at, but one of them slammed into his window. Mexico swore loudly, swerving to get away from it. Cuba grasped onto the dashboard, but America and Canada went tumbling into the back of the van. Alaska yipping when she slammed into the wall.

The van spun out, and soon tipped over onto its side. Canada sat up, almost oblivious to the fact that he was pushing on broken glass, and rubbed his head. "Is everyone ok?"

America groaned, feeling at a lump on the back of his head. He looked at his hand to see a smear of blood over his fingers. With a low growl, America swore to himself, placing the hand back over it. "Yea, I guess."

Mexico, who was hanging from his seat belt let out a whoa, but confirmed himself to be unharmed. Just a bit sore, maybe.

Cuba dragged himself from the front seat, clutching his right shoulder. "I think I broke my arm."

"Let me see." Canada slid closer, and examined his arm. It didn't seem to be fully broken, but that didn't mean it wasn't close, or at the very least fractured. He pulled open a first aid kit attached to the back of the seat, and started wrapping his arm. "I don't think it's broken, but any more strain and it could break. You probably should be careful."

"Yea, no shit."

"Hey." America called as he made his way over. "There's no call for that." He swiped the first aid kit and made to at least try and staunch the bleeding. It was more aggravating to be injured by something as stupid as this, considering their surroundings.

Cuba started to retaliate, but was distracted when Mexico unhooked his seat belt and fell over towards the passenger seat. He lay still for a moment, then let out a rather monotone, "Ow."

Just like that the tension was broken and the other three laughed lightly.

"Here, let me help." Canada slid closer to his brother, starting to help wrap his head.

They all jumped from the sound of loud moaning, and banging along the bottom of the van. America and Cuba both snatched up their guns, ready to ward off anything that might break through.

Alaska barked at the bottom of the van, nursing a limp as she backed up towards her master. Silence fell between the four closing in on each other in the back. Mexico sidled from the front, yelping as some moved in front of the window. Their milky eyes gazed in at them, almost seeming to not comprehend what they were seeing.

There was more slamming, and soon a few shadows could be seen climbing over the top. Fortunately the window America had broken out was on the bottom, but that didn't mean the ones on top would hold much longer. America made his way to the very back of the van, starting to put the array of guns back in their places along the many holsters he had situated on his body. Mexico and Cuba soon joined him, grabbing any of the others they could hold.

Canada watched them for a bit, stroking Alaska, who was still letting out a low growl. He situated the holster on his back, and made an attempt to situate the pipe he was using earlier. A blunt object just seemed to make more sense for the situation.

The scratching and banging outside seemed to pay off. The floorboard bowed in, before it finally broke through and two zombies scrambled to try and get through first. They backed towards the roof, Alaska barking at the zombies. Cuba started firing at any piece of decaying flesh that came into view. Alaska was getting a little too close for her master's liking. He made a grab for the Husky, and pulled her back, snapping a leash on the ring of her collar.

Mexico cocked one of his rifles and assisted in the shooting. "We have to get out of here." There was a shattering of glass up front, and he yelped, shooting a few of them back.

"How far is this fort of yours?" Cuba cried, feeling a sense of panic spread over them.

"It's just a few blocks from here. We should be able to make it, if we run."

Cuba scoffed. "Doubt it."

"Matt, take Alaska."

"What?" Canada took the leash his brother offered in confusion. "Why? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to draw them away." America spun around and started to crank the door to the sun-roof.

Canada's face made an odd change between falling and rising in horror. He grabbed America's arm, dragging him back towards him. "Are you crazy!? I'm not letting you go out there, alone!"

Alaska barked in agreement.

"It's fine. These thing's aren't that fast. I've outrun them before. Just make a run for the fort, and I'll meet you there."

"I still don't like it. We don't know what could happe- YAH!"

America whipped around to see one of them climbing through the now open sun roof. Both brother's hands snapped over their ears when Cuba fired off a bullet into the intrusive head. Cuba sighed, cocking the gun. "I'll go with him."

"What?" Both exclaimed in unison. "You want to come?"

"Might as well."

… "You're not gonna shoot me are you?"

"No." Cuba growled in his throat, and started to push him out the window. "Just get your ass out there."

"Be careful." Canada cried after him.

America climbed to his feet, readying his rifle. He looked around at the shambling creatures, daring any of them to come for him. A few started making their way over, reaching out for him. America stepped into the zombies, knocking a few of them across the head with the butt of his gun, wanting to save his ammo for when he needed it. Oddly enough, a few of the others seemed to take awareness in the death of their 'allies'. He briefly wondered if they even really cared about each other, then he determined it didn't matter, as long as these bastards were gonna eat them.

America tried to smack a few more of them away, backing up to just be out of reach of their hands and still crack them over the head. Probably something he should have done beforehand, America shot a quick glance behind him to realize they had crashed on a bridge, and there wasn't much more room behind him to back up. The front corner of the van was rammed right up to the rail, and some of the zombies were climbing over the hood.

Backing up to where they connected, he whipped around and shot the zombies climbing on over, to allow him to get up and away. Once he jumped back down to the road, he realized more were coming towards him. There were far too many of them to just bat away, so he started shooting as they came closer.

Apparently, at the sound of the gunshots, more heads snapped around to see he had come out of the car, and started closing in on him. America cleared a path, and headed for a better way to get his back to a wall. Unfortunately far too many were closing in and he couldn't make it through the open area. At least the area that was supposed to be open. He swung his gun, knocking the path clearer, with any part he could hit on them. Out from the direction of the car, more shots rang out, ripping through the skulls of a few nearest to him.

He finished clearing out the area, and looked over to see Cuba continuing to shoot the zombies now coming for him. America thought for a bit, before climbing atop an over turned car, knocking a few more out of the way as he did. A couple zombies tried to follow him up, but he kicked them over the head.

"HEY!" He shouted, banging on the side of the car. "Over here." A few stayed with Cuba, but a good chunk of the creatures came over to investigate what was making the racket. All America was really caring about was getting as many as he could away from the van.

Cuba mowed down the rest of the crowd around him, and moved away from the van. He killed a few zombies closest to him, then knocked on the back of the van. "Quickly. Come on out."

Canada climbed out first, dragging Alaska behind him, soon followed by Mexico. "Where's Alfred?" He asked, pulling on the leash of the hyperactive dog.

Cuba gestured over to the car, where the overzealous nation was still calling them over, but avoiding them marvelously. He was now off the car, drawing them closer his hands now clutched around the machine gun he had strapped to his back. America looked up at them, waving a hand over. "Clear out!"

"Come on." Mexico grasped Canada's arm, and started to drag him away, but Canada's eyes were fixed in horror upon his brother.

"Just go." Cuba forcefully pushed his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on him." After a bit more incentive, Canada went along with Mexico. "Make sure to get back to us. Both of you."

"Just hurry up."

"Come on, girl." Canada yanked on Alaska's leash, trying to get her to stop barking and follow him. After a few last protests she gave in and ran along.

As the two nations cleared the next block, they heard a large barrage of bullets from America's gun.

"Lead the way, amigo." Mexico called back, and Canada pulled the still yapping dog into the lead, clutching the lead pipe firmly in his hands. Cuba was shooting after them, taking a few out that followed, but soon Mexico had to take over the protection. There was far too many people in this town. Infected flesh-eaters running out from behind each corner, and alleyway.

"How much further?" Mexico called out, firing down more of their obstacles. Since he figured out that he was going to have to have the guns, he loaded up everything that America hadn't.

"I can almost see the gate." Canada cried, pointing ahead of them. They closed in on the fence surrounding the compound, and threw himself against the chain-link entrance, and shook. "It's locked tight." He dropped to his knees, pulling up. "And the bottoms buried in cement."

Mexico backed up towards them, still shooting at the horde coming towards them. "Then we go over, man."

"What?" Canada looked up at the top. "There's barbs lining the top. How are we gonna-"

He wasn't sure how he managed it, but Mexico pulled his coat off from under the crossing of the holsters, and threw it over the top of the fence. "Come on." Mexico climbed on up over the fence, and dropped down the other side. More impressed that he hadn't thought of that, Canada scooped Alaska up in his arms. He checked around to see how close the other zombies were, and threw her on over the coat.

Mexico waited to receive her on the other side, urging Canada to hurry over. Canada had cleared the top, and just started climbing down when the zombies slammed into the fence. He yelped, jumping back off the side of the fence. He landed far too hard on the concrete ground, reminding him that he wasn't wearing shoes. Even more so when the cuts from the glass sparked, sending a shock up his leg and agitated the gunshot wound.

Canada stared panting at the zombies trying to get through the gate towards them. "Get up. We don't have time to sit." Mexico stated, pulling him to his feet. "And take your dog." Canada realized that Alaska was barking frantically, trying to get to the offending attackers. He took the leash, kneeling down to pet her. "Shh. Quiet down. It's ok, girl. We're safe in here."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Canada glanced up at him, then looked to where he was shooting to see three zombies were running towards them, from inside the compound. Mexico mowed them down quickly. The rattling of the fence caught his attention, and Canada looked back to see the zombies were clambering over each other to try and reach the top of the fence. As odd as it seemed, they were succeeding, in their own weird way.

"Shut that dog up!" Mexico hollered, as more zombies started running at them.

"Quiet down, girl." Canada pushed himself onto his feet, and started off towards the fort, after Mexico, his limp far worse than it had been before. By the time he caught up to him, Mexico was mere feet away from the door. Suddenly, Alaska stopped. She lowered her head, and growled towards Mexico, forcing Canada to stop. Canada pulled at the leash. "What's wrong with you? We have to get out of here." He urged harder, but she ignored him, backing up. "What is it, girl?"

Alaska barked openly towards Mexico.

Mexico made it to the door, and wrenched it open, but what waited behind it was far from inviting.

Canada's head whipped around at the sound of Mexico's screams and frantic shooting to see a near shower of decaying bodies falling over him. "Paco!" Soon the screaming was muffled by the bodies, and the shooting stopped. The ones not busying themselves with the southern nation ran towards Canada, from the sound of his shout. Creeping up in front of him, growling low in her throat, Alaska lunged forward and bit at the nearest zombie. "NO!" Canada cried, and pulled back on her leash, swinging the pipe around with his free hand, and shattering the first skull it came in contact with. "Come on." He shouted, pulling sharply on the leash. Alaska barked a couple more times, and followed.

They tried to make it for another exit, or somewhere else to go, but the mob that had made it over the fence were now surrounding him, and the still yapping husky. Canada strapped the leash around his wrist, trying to free his hands up enough to take out a few surrounding zombies, with the lead pipe firmly clenched in his hands. He managed to clear enough away and ran towards the artillery. He didn't really know, or trust that he could make it inside, but with his other options blocked, there had to be somewhere to hide out. Fortunately, a solution soon came into view. There was a large array of tanks lined up inside one of the large storage bunkers. It was probably only about five yards, but with the surrounding onslaught, it seemed miles. Good thing none of these monsters were all that fast. Alaska wasn't fighting anymore, but running full speed ahead, which in turn made Canada run faster to keep up, his bare feet slapping painfully against the cold concrete ground.

They made a beeline for the nearest tank, and Canada started climbing up the side of it, Alaska skittering up behind him. He had just started trying to twist open the door, when a blood soaked face popped up over the other side, sounding like it was hissing at him. Barely giving him time to react, Alaska leapt forward, and bit it right in the throat. Canada swung his pipe around, managing to knock the zombie's head off, but nicked the top of the dog's head. She whimpered, shaking her head. Canada wrenched the door open, pushing Alaska down the small hole before sliding in himself, and sealing the door back.

Canada found it difficult to catch his breath. Raking his shaking hands through his hair, he buried his head in his arms, and started to cry. He couldn't believe this was happening. Mexico was dead, and God knows what happened to America and Cuba. They said they were going to try and meet them here, but this place wasn't much better than the street. What if they came here looking for them, and wound up just like Mexico?

There was a small whimper, and a soft head rubbing against his arm. Canada looked up, brushing his eyes, to see Alaska giving him the stereotypical puppy dog eyes. She whined again. Canada sniffed, and pulled the husky tightly into his arms.

##

AN: Re-edited - 07-26-2012 I am having serious issues reediting this one. Apparently, everything happens too fast, but it was happening fast, anyway, so I really don't know how to fix that. Also, I think the original wording for this is so ingrained in my mind, that I can't think of anything else. Oh well, at least I picked up a couple dropped threads.

GOD DAMN IT AMERICA! haven't you watched enough movies to know that you never split up... GEEZE! Oh yea. I almost forgot about my dogs. Apparently some people think I'm stupid for making Alaska and Hawaii America's dogs, but y'know what, i think I'm a genius, so there. plus I've always wanted a Husky, and Pariahs are too cute, man. And in case anyone's curious, Hawaii was infected, but he ended up getting eaten up when America was making his escape. He was such a small pup who bravely died to protect his master... tragic.