Massena Memorial Hospital overlooked the St. Lawrence river, a key gateway to a history that was long lost in books left dusty in corners of schools, stashed away to give room for makeshift shelters. The tall windows that were the elegant face of the hospital, had once held a luster, but no longer as there was a lack of superficial upkeep, such things weren't important now. Small patches of grass grew wild, the trees reflected a more natural, less trimmed appeal these days, and a garden had been tilled in the half acre park next door. Inside it seemed as though every space available was occupied by refugees, their belongings, and clumsily hung blankets that served as dividers. Most of the medical equipment had been concentrated on the main and second levels as well as the birthing center on the first level, the unit I'd first come to know here. The lower, first and third levels had been converted into an accumulation of living quarters, I wasn't allowed here often.

I spent my first three years of re-birth confined to its five levels, weaving between lumps of people nestled in blankets still rank with bleach. As my body was not ready to move the way my mind willed it, the doctors but together braces for my back and limbs that allowed my body to keep up for the first two years. Each day was a test, an observation, but still they knew nothing. Parts of my body seemed to accelerate in growth as there were parts of the brain with concentrated awareness now that had never been present in an infant before. While it was not long before the braces were no longer needed, it was, on a whole, not a very dramatic change. I grew perhaps a few centimeters more then even average children each year and built muscle structure rapidly, frequently exercising to fill my time. My body was much quicker in adapting to more substantial food than the sour formula, though with teeth still on an average time-line, I was still limited. A few times I heard about the woman who'd brought me here, she would cry out for her baby, that her baby was the miracle baby, soon they transferred her.

They didn't ask much about my past, to them the life that ended was nothing; the continuance of it was their main concern. I did not reflect on that time much, my own curiosity served a decent distraction and it would take my next step to revive these images.

While the hospital was decent a facility, all the research that could be done had been, and it was requested that I be moved to Chicago to join studies with the first child, Marco. This would be the first time I would look beyond the sanctuary of Massena, see what this world had become while I sat locked away, staring out a rain spattered window at the grey waters of the St. Lawrence. At the time I had been relieved to go, restless thoughts folding around me as I paced through the hallways. If only I had known, been prepared, because the haze in the distance seemed innocently portrayed, yet it hid away a chaos that was going to consume us all.

"It's time Oriana," once, they had asked me what my name was, I had one to give them, but it was no longer mine. Upon refusal to provide a name, my appointed nurse came up with Oriana, an Italian name meaning 'To rise'. I'd laughed at her at first, yet now it seemed to have a ring to it, "We need to get you moving, before the rain gets any heavier."

I simply nodded as I took the hand of my nurse, it was much easier to cling onto childlike behaviors when the world could so easily crush you, and no one was sure if this second life was the last. Being stubborn wasn't worth the effort when every moment was a guess, I'd even given up parts of my fiery nature to try and figure out WHY I was here. An anxiety had built in my gut since the time they told me I would be leaving; soon I would be with someone else like me, someone who knew.

"Marco…" I whispered softly under my breath, walking two steps to my nurse's one, trying to focus on all the things I wanted to talk to him about.

A soft whistle cried through the gap at the bottom of the front entrance way. The threatening wind outside breathing in the last chill of winter, fewer people made camp near the inconvenient breeze, and my departure was a minimally viewed one. Obediently, the doors parted when the motion detector indicated it to do so, and blasted us with sharp sprays of rain. A line of vehicles awaited us, some fanciful part of me had imagined something like in the movies, shiny new cars that would indicate some sort of government still maintained us, I was wrong. Many of them were economy cars, dented, chipped, and had windows reinforced on the inside with chicken wire. Later on I would learn the dents had come from the weeks after the first wave. People had panicked when the sickness began to fester in the masses. Few cars made it as far as the sanctuary of Massena, and were ravaged by the pounding fists of thousands of souls gone mad. It didn't take long before the air infested the disease too in the people who'd tried to escape and were unlucky enough to be battered to a stop. This trip was the first time many of our party had even dared leave, and while they felt a higher purpose in this trip, nothing could shake the tension that hung in a cloud above us.

My nurse shuffled me into a muddy '01 Chevy Impala, situated me into a somewhat humiliating car seat, and landed one last affectionate peck on my forehead before offering a teary goodbye. She wished me luck, hope for all of us that someday we would know, and to listen to Sam, my driver. No matter how often I proved I was in fact an adult on the inside, I feared I would never evade being treated like a child, at least until my body grew out of the role.

Sam was among the oldest in our caravan, 29, and one of the two who'd frequently left the city wall, that's why I'd innocently suggested he drive me. When I left this place I was intent on understanding what I saw, while I knew not what to expect, I knew it wasn't going to be simple.

With each car door finally shut, and each person situated, the line began to move, making its way down barren streets to the wall. There was a new story cast on the historical district we passed through, charred buildings left a muggy odor of burn lingering even through the rain, and havoc scattered debris across once pampered lawns. Bones, some blacked with smoke, and others picked clean, were haunting remnants of something even my curiosity could not stomach.

Massena's wall was one of the last structures build here by the remaining government that crumbled shortly after the disease broke its vicious potential. A vast electric wall, it had one opening that served as entry and exit. The car's air vents filled with a putrid smell that drifted through the heating to make me gag, a strange smoky, bitter taste rising in the back of my throat.

Burning flesh.

It wasn't long till it was our turn to pass through the gate, and as soon as the other side came into view I drew all attention to what I expected was carnage.

All along the wall there were burn marks from where the diseased had tried to gain entrance and failed. Smoke still rose from the singed grass and brush but, to an odd fascination, there were no bodies to be found. It was evident that many times it had been attempted and no doubt ably many had died here, but where did their bodies go? Having to move slowly through the road, rubble blocking everywhere, we lingered long enough to draw attention.

I could feel them suddenly. They stood watching us from the trees, the red eyes fixated with a starved lust, ominous like the crowd which gathers to a funeral march.

"Don't worry," I must have had a concerned look at my face as I returned their stare, "None of us are sick, they will leave us alone here. There are plenty more in that city, it's about the feast to them, not the snack. When we are in more secluded areas, it won't be the same. Walking death may have taken away their souls, but their minds are just as keen and when they can't find food, they make it."

"I suppose that was meant to comfort me?"

"Oriana, I don't know what sort of fairy tales they've told you in the hospital, but there isn't any comfort left in this world. Some of us can choose to stay locked away, thinking they're safe, but we can't hide from the sickness when it has a mind and body to survive with. Those THINGS will find their way into the city soon; it's just a matter of time." About to pull out of view, I witnessed more gathering along the tree line, their movements were quick and I couldn't keep track of one from the other. Tattered clothes were caked with blood, and each face held a twisted grin that claimed an expression of wanting, wanting to rip into the delicious flesh this curse provided them.

"Here," Sam reached into the pack on the passenger side seat and pulled out a small tablet and juice, "It's a sedative, they asked me to offer it to you, it will make this time between here and our first stop much easier."

"What is the next stop anyway?" I questioned, grasping the pill and juice awkwardly with my chubby little fingers.

"Buffalo or at least what we hope is still Buffalo. We haven't heard anything from them for a day or two, but enough questions, just pop the pill and I'll wake you when we are there." There was no point in agitating my driver now with questions, after all we still had a few days ahead of us, and not wanting to ruin my chance at information, I did as told.

Within a few minutes the world began to soften, my lids became too heavy to hold open anymore and the blurred scenery outside disappeared behind a veil of black.

Uproar of screams and a harsh jolt brought me back through the veil. All around me the car shook as hundreds of hands fall upon us and the screams came from the twisted faces just on the other side of the glass. Like a pack of wolves howling as they descended on their prey, the sound was an agonizing pulse that nearly stopped my heart in fear. Souls writhing in pain at the hungry devouring them inside, desperate to just leak a bit of sick into the cars and the morsels within, the banshee herself would have cowered.

"What the fuck! Where are we?!"

"Buffalo" Sam said quietly with a stone cold air to his voice, he knew what we would find here. Past the swarm of bodies, I could see a lucent orange sky, clouds cradling in the heat from fires still burning away the place once known as Buffalo, New York. An eerie silhouette was cast on the clouds, half tumbled titans of buildings now just flickering impressions in the smoke filled atmosphere. There was a fever here, the walking death had brought down this great city in a heat of appetency, now the residents of Buffalo either walked with them or were embraced in the rotting bellies of the frenzied.

"What are we going to do?! They're everywhere! Oh my fucking god, do something Sam!" I couldn't hold back even a moment of panic. I didn't want to go back to the hunger that needed to gorge itself beyond any desire I'd ever known, no, I couldn't.

"Don't worry, it will be over soon. Just waiting on the signal…" he trailed off, keeping close watch on the old Lumina van in front of us. No one else seemed to be panicking the way I was. I was the only one who'd not experienced this yet, the only one who'd died before this pandemonium had planted fear so deep in their hearts. Suddenly, a car horn sounded three vehicles up at the lead, and each car behind followed suit. Startling them away just a moment, it gave them all time to process the next movement. Sam reached for series of buttons on a small control pad that had been rigged in the wire filled cavity that once held a stereo. Letting escape a small sigh of relief, he pressed the button.

Above me a deep reverberating click signified the release of one of the mechanisms each of the cars had been equipped with and this was shortly followed by a deafening bang. The swelling horde was hit with a barrage of molten buck shot that ejected from two canisters protruding from both sides of each vehicle top. What came next shakes my heart even now; reverberation of its memory brings chills still.

An almost silly memory triggered the visual of a documentary on national geographic about wildlife in the Rocky Mountains. During a certain segment, two tom mountain lions were locked in an epic battle for a kill, or so how it had been introduced. Between vicious lashes and lunges, one of them emitted a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream. At the time I imaged that is how it must sound when a woman's left screaming while her innards are being torn out. This was closest I could think to resemble what I heard.

In one mass oscillation, the diseased ones quaked and raised glance to the fire illuminated sky. Letting forth a lament of miserable death, they resonated in every depth of space around us, clutching even to our quickened hearts.

Their crimson optics faded to void, empty sockets exuding black particles that twisted and curled through the heated air. Cheeks fell back to bone and toothy grins began to dissipate in the hail of ebony dust and rose, evening darkening the fires encompassing us. Bodies followed suit and soon there was nothing but black. Screams dulled to agonized whispers soon smothered by the sound of our tires crunching over what remained of them. I could not help the tears that slid so quietly from my eyes as we quickened out pace. Begging my own heart to slow down, I covered my eyes and fell back into my seat.

"Can I get out of this ridiculous car seat yet?" I uttered almost mechanically toward the annoyance which confined me.

"Oh, yeah, sure, don't even know why you let um do that to ya anyway." Sam looked back and offered a smile, "It gets easier to handle Oriana. I won't lie to you though, it's always going to be look and sound like that."

"You know…I hope in Chicago the 'bodily challenged' are given a little more dignity." I mimicked his smile as I referred to the car seat and unbuckled myself.

"You're a lot tougher then the act you put up you know."

"Don't go blowing my cover now. Hey, can I sit up there?"

"You think you can handle the view?"

Pulling the last strap from my shoulders I replied, "I think I can handle it Sam. Hell even if I can't I'd better start learning hadn't I?"

Three times we had to stop and 'clear the way' while we made route through Buffalo. Luckily a few stocks remained, gas stations far enough from the flames, and, most importantly to Sam, coffee and cigarettes. Since no word had come from this direction for a time, a second wind of drivers had slept the ride hence in precaution. Sam took the ridiculous seat out and was soon a snoring lump on the back seat. His replacement was the slightly more optimistic Anne.

Eighteen and feisty, we got along right away. I'd never seen her at the hospital and learned she'd come from the high school refuge to help transport me. Since her family had all but disappeared in the midst of all this insanity, she was an eager candidate to leave Massena. It wasn't long before the three of us formed a cooperative traveling crew. Sam was too stubborn to admit it, but having an extra laugh here and there made the trip easier.

Anne was mostly unique in the scar that crossed her left cheek. It was deep, wide, dull white from age, and started from the cheekbone just under the eye to her upper lip.

"Oh that old thing! Got that biking when I was 10. Not too exciting of a story. My brother dared me to take this trail we'd only seen our dad go down, defiantly too much for a 2-speed, but I didn't care ha! Went off a small cliff and into a tree, broke two ribs and my ankle. Man, my mom didn't let me leave the house for weeks!"

"Did it hurt? You say it like it was a scrapped knee."

"Well of course it hurt, hurt like hell, a lot of things do, but honestly what's that pain worth holding onto?"

We weren't always met with the same tragedy as Buffalo.

Detroit had been abandoned over two years go, and served as a supply station, nothing else. A military stronghold had maintained base in Jackson, Michigan. It seemed, though to no one's surprise, the military had lasted, and to most extents, replaced the remaining government. One would have thought the two were one, but diplomacy can easily be annihilated in chaos. Perhaps this was the reason why so few medical establishments still stood. While they were not beyond giving aid and supply, theirs views on the situation were quite different from my first experience in this hell.

Massena had always been quiet. Cars and people would rarely venture by and outside the only activity could be seen in the garden. In all the long days I stood watching the world, I did not imagine places like Jackson still existed.

The wall built around Jackson reminded me of a prison, and as we entered I honestly couldn't set if it was meant to keep something out, or something in. Directly on the other side we were met by a bustling metropolis of survivors. A mix of military uniforms and pedestrian drab formed a sea of vibrant life, nearly busting at the seams of the great wall. Every part of the city had been maintained to regulate trade, shops still offered product and restaurants still let linger tantalizing scents that lured even the stubborn closer. Though things like nose hair clippers, pet fashion accessories and coffee mugs with quirky sayings were non-existent, a prosperous trade of essentials was at its peak. In the distance I swore I heard a school bell ring, something about that sound warmed my heart and added a strange comfort to my view here.

"People here don't seem afraid." I muttered quietly to Sam. "They act like the disease doesn't even exist."

"They think they have found safety."

"But it's really just ignorance." Anne chimed in before Sam continued.

"For some, it's easier to let the gun do the thinking for them. Authority gives the illusion of control, and the lips of authority dictate order."

"If you ask me, that makes it only that much worse when the sickness leaks in here, it always finds a way." Anne's own words quieted her, something neither Sam nor I had accomplished so far.

"It's kinda hard to know which end is better." I stated.

"Neither is, it's just two sides of a spectrum, either they try to weather the storm or they try to face it. You'll drive yourself insane trying to sway between the two, best thing is to just follow your heart and not be a sheep." Even though, in reality's sake, Sam was not much older then I, but it seemed the world had already aged him. Through his wise words it was obvious he'd lived more lives then he'd originally set forth to.

"Having a mindset of comfort, in my opinion, isn't worth following the military so blindly…we know what they are capable of." Her voice filled with a brief anger as she glared on into the checkpoint we were approaching.

The jeep door shut, waking her up. She'd propped herself against the window, dark circler under her eyes proof she'd just nodded off.

"We need to get out of here." Her husband muttered as he fumbled for the keys.

"Huh? What…what time is it?"

"Close to four am I think. There aren't many awake yet, not many that know…"

"Know what?"

He gripped the steering wheel, looked ahead, judged his words, and then turned to his wife.

"What IS it Robert?"

"They are killing people."

"Who?"

"I don't know…military maybe? The disease, it's spreading everywhere…even the people who aren't sick…they're killing them…trying to quarantine." Panic had left his words blank, as though he was desperately trying to process the reality of the situation.

Out of nervous habit, she pulled her sweater around her and shivered despite the heat, fully awake now.

"How do you know?"

"We needed water...a couple of guys were up listening to an old ham radio. When I'd asked if they'd heard anything new they said nothing had come in for a week and the last news was simply that it was spreading. Someone came on air as I was leaving…."He trailed off, the smallest bit of moisture formed to the corner of his eye as he looked away from her and into the darkness.

"Well? What did it say?"

"It was a woman…and her children…you could hear the children screaming. She wasn't infected…she begged for someone to help her children…no one was listening, they were shooting anyway. The gunfire grew louder, there were more screams. She said they were in San Jose…kept begging and begging…but the gunfire was almost so loud we had to cover our ears…and then the line cut." He trembled lightly and lifted a hand to smother his forehead, overwhelmed with what he now knew.

"That's only 120 miles from here…"She whispered in shock, realizing the urgency of his nervous movement.

"We need to go before the rest find out. Before the roads are too full and we can't even run from them."

"Do we have enough gas?"

"Don't worry babe, I've got it covered." Reassurance covered the anxiety in his tone for a moment as he backed from the tightly packed parking lot. Turning down the isle, their lights reflected across the cold chrome which held so many people still unaware, people that could soon be eliminated. The blue glow of the giant Wal-Mart sign flickered as we passed under it toward the security point. All other entrances had been blocked off to channel and observe all traffic that passed though, most places had established these formations. Of course, this was only a last ditch effort to make it seem like there was still control.

"Heading out folks?" The stocky, middle-age security guard asked with a yawn.

"Gotta hit the five before Sacramento starts waking up." Robert replied coolly.

"I heard ya man, yesterday it was backed all over the city by 9 am, today feels like a crazy coming on."

"You have no idea…"Her husband muttered before speeding off.

A short distance away he let out a deep breath and turned to her, "I love you."

"It's not the end Robert." She tried to assuring the lost feeling he'd hinted in his voice.

"Does that matter love? Doesn't have to be the end for me to love you." He reached for her hand and drew the back of it to his lips. Landing a gentle kiss there, he held on just a bit longer before settling both hands to rest on his knee. "I'll always love you and we WILL make it. Luck wouldn't have worked for well for us thus far if it wasn't meant to be."

His wife smiled at him, an innocent twinkle reflecting in her blue eyes, "I love you too Robert…even if this isn't fate, and we're just heading to the end, I'm glad that I have you here with me."

There was a tension with either party in Jackson, one thing that stayed the same, here or Massena; there was a slight animosity for anything from the outside. While the people in Jackson were welcoming enough, we knew even a nights rest here would cause anxiety. Besides maintaining formalities, we were just another day's drive from our destination, and even the promise of a day or two of good rest wasn't enough to keep us longer then required. Most of the hotels in town had been turned into apartments to cater to the growing population here and only an old Super 8 had enough room to house us for the evening.

"I can't wait to meet him." I admitted to Anne later. We sat in the room we shared with two other girls named Charlotte, a plainly twenty-seven year old, and Naomi, a rather short twenty-three year old with bad breath.

"Who?"

"Marco."

"Oh! You mean the first person re-born right?" Anne ran a comb through her shoulder length black hair, each straight strand glistening naturally in the light.

"Yea…I've got so many questions."

"I'm sure he has plenty for you too, but just remember he's probably just as in the dark as we are."

"You think…there will be any more? Do you think Marco and I are the only ones who are going to come back?"

"You know I can't answer that silly. We could all guess but when it comes down to it someone is going to be wrong…so I'd rather just leave it up to the odds."

"How is life so simple for you?" I smiled at her, simply captivated at the even optimism she could still maintain.

"Told ya Oriana, what's the point in hanging onto pain? Worry is just another form of pain, and the more time we waste on that, the less we have here for the important stuff….like pillow fights for example!" Laughing, she reached for the nearest fluff filled cotton bag and swung for me. These were some of the moment I would always treasure, because they meant nothing more then they were, happy. Being with Sam, the only person who treated me like the adult I was, and Anne, almost like an older sister to me.

"I'll never know how I ended with two scholars as drivers!" I shouted before diving at Anne with my own pillow ammunition.

I believe it was exhaustion that lead to the chorus of steady breathing and the occasional snore around me, but nothing could put my mind to rest that night. I'd managed to just settle myself down when the world swung back into motion and it was time to leave. Everything past this moment was a blur; I don't even remember being processed as we left Jackson. I could not tell you if I saw any green grass beginning to peak up through the gray landscape along highway 94, nor could I tell you if it was clear or cloudy skies. All I remember was the annoyance of obstacles that continually made the trip much slower when once, in a civilized time, it would have been a two day trip at most.

Coming into Chicago didn't leave much of an impression on me. The wall surrounding it resembled that of Massena, just a much larger scale and started at one end near Lake Station, Indiana, just outside of Chicago. Unlike most of the boundaries formed around cities, Chicago had multiple entry and exits. Gulls flew low along the water I hardly paid any mind to, and some people actually ventured outside of the wall on a regular basis to fish. Anne told me Chicago was the last place to get infected, and was the most successful is getting it out. The University of Chicago Medical Center had become the top leading medical facility in the remaining USA.

A toll station now served as one of the main entrances, security and a small number of medical staff manned the station for possible threats.

"Once we're through we'll cut onto highway 90, and turn to make our way over to the hospital a lil ways after 94 and 90 meet." Sam commented and I intently watched out the window now, just so very close.

Letting out a soft sigh I turned back to him, "How much longer?"

"Well, back in the day 5'oclock traffic was a bitch here, but if it's let up we ought to be there in a little over 30 minutes. So CALM down." His chuckled left a scowl on my face as I tried to act like I didn't know what he was talking about. Crossing my arms I slid back into the passenger seat. "You know, they are going to have to lock you two in a room for a week just so you can get done asking each other questions. Maybe then we will get a word in. The way your being so quiet the last day I'd say you're about to burst."

"Shut up Sam, just drive faster ya mook." I mumbled and flashed him a stubborn grin.

I'd never been into Chicago before, once when I was little my family flew through O'Hare, but I only got a snowy glimpse of the city this was. Part of me was sad that I had not known that it looked like before, and most of me couldn't even imagine what it had been in comparison. It was a thriving place, not quite as upbeat as Jackson, but certainly here everyone was living not hiding. Trade had fallen to a more minimalist approach and most of the shops had been closed down, but there were concentrated and regulated areas of exchange. Life was dispersed evenly throughout the city, while its main accumulations were centered on the universities, hospitals and larger school districts. The airport still occasionally saw people from places still able to operate such machinery. None of the traffic was commercial anymore; this posed one of the higher risks of infection getting in.

Traffic was luckily very thin, gas only really wasted with necessary, and only minor manmade obstacles stalled us. It wasn't very long till we were at the point where highway 90 and 94 met. From the passenger's side I could see a large park. It stretched over a few miles behind a bunch of housing. We all moved off the highway and onto a frequented road called Garfield Blvd.

Signs advertised things like a public pool, Washington Park, Stagg Field, University of Chicago, and various hospital information were our first welcomes. Weaving through the park I noticed emergency tents, one nearly the size of a football field, had been erected on either side of the park. Most of the smaller tents, amidst this sea of white, gray, and beige peaks, were sorry homes for what most would consider unfortunate. Even when the world was in shambles, it was still not above people to place others 'lower' in society and material wealth in 'lower' standards living quarters. The benefit was, to their unlucky advantage, that they were so close to the hospital. Also, the congregation of so much life in this one area made it less frigid then on the cold sidewalks downtown. For some of the people residing in those tents, it was a step up, and the disease was almost a blessing in disguise.

Garfield Blvd had ended as we entered the park and turned left down Morgan Dr, the road that now twined us past the small tent city. As the tents thinned we wound south, next to us was an impressive conglomerate of buildings that summed up the university area. It was hard to make out which building was the hospital in the cluster to our left, or rather how many of the buildings were the hospital. A smaller street, East 58th, turned and brought us alongside an enormous building of tan, hinted with a vibrant light blue trim. There was a larger turn about in front of the building that served as a wide, still well maintained, courtyard.

University of Chicago Medical Center

A blue-topped pavilion reached out from under the metallic words, below it was surely the entrance. While Sam turned into the courtyard, I strained to see through the small crowd gathered under the blue. Halting directly at the entryway, my eyes found what they were looking for.

Standing next to a tall, blonde nurse was a boy who looked around the age five. He would be three now, but like me he grew differently. Bright red hair almost glowed in the fluorescent light that had come on as dusk was setting in. Round little cheeks were smothered in freckles against a very pale exterior. He'd formed a soft welcoming smile upon his thin lips, and cautiously offered up a wave when he too found me.

His eyes, they were so unique, yet recognizable as our views locked. They were a deep brown, doe-like, yet like mine, the innocence was gone. Here were eyes and a mind that did not belong in the vessel that now served their home, like me…

"Marco…" I whispered.