Both Alicia and I scramble around the corners of every block, making it closer and closer to where we last heard the gunshots. Our breaths are heavy, yet we still continue down yet another street, searching for any evidence that some had been in the area.

"Elyza!" She yells as she heaves over to catch he breath. "I—" she gasps, "I think they went over there." Her chest risings dramatically as she inhales another breath of air, then it deflates as her lungs push out the unnecessary air needed.

I myself am having trouble keeping my breath steady. Although I'm not as desperate as she is for air, I still find myself breathing pretty heavily. I guess I need to work out more...

It's the early afternoon; the sun has risen enough to dramatically change the temperature. I would guess that in the morning it was about 24°C, but in Southern California, the afternoon's summer heat will rise drastically, probably bringing the heat of the day to 35°C, if not more.

"Okay," I agree. I lead, jogging off in the direction that Princess had pointed to. It's down a narrow alleyway where multiple corpses lay lifeless on the concrete. Their skulls are bashed in, and their brains leak from their head wounds. I can't help but gag at the smell. Again, it's the smell that gets me; it always is.

Behind me, I hear someone heave. It's Alicia, and her stomach unloads the little of what we'd had for brunch. The contents spill all over the ground next to a dead undead. The poor girl still can't keep it down around them.

"Hey," I say, quick to pull her hair back over her shoulders. I gently pack her back as she finishes her dry-heaving. "There ya go. All better now?" She lifts herself up more but still counts on her legs for balance. Her hands lay on her upper thighs, propping herself up as much as possible. Weakly, she gives me a nod, not even looking up at me.

"Look, either we get moving or we find a place to rest." I give a shrug before continuing, "I don't think you're in the condition to move forward after this, but it's up to you."

"I want to find them," she says with a husky voice. It's dry and weak, and I can tell she isn't in the best shape. Of course, no one would be "fine" in our situation, having that we have limited supplies and medical care. With the heat wave coming in over our heads, now seems like a time not to continue. I can't control her, though. She's able enough to know when to stop, when to call it. We're strangers, and I don't know her enough to make decisions for her. All I can do is help—help a pretty face find her group again, then God knows what happens after.

I'm about to accept that we start off again, but after a couple of deep, rough coughs that come from her frail frame, I'm convinced that we find a resting place. I'm calling the shots right now, even if we are strangers. "Okay," I say as I pull my pack from my back to find some water, "first off, waterfall this, rinse your mouth out, then drink some." I hand her the uncapped bottle. "Second, we're finding a place to stick for the rest of today. I don't need you to chuck up any more; you sound sick as all hell."

After spitting out some water, she locks eyes with me. "I'm fine," she states. It's a firm statement, almost convincing but not quite, especially when she starts hacking again.

"I don't think so..." My voice trails off, and my lips press tightly together. We both stare at each other for a short few seconds before Princess surrenders.

She rolls her reddening eyes and proceeds to nod. "Let's go," she sighs, while trying to hold back another cough. Alicia tries to take a step towards me, but she fumbles over and coughs again. "I think I just need to sit down for a minute. I don't feel too good."

"No shit. Just catch yourself. I'll keep an eye out." I hold her arms, helping her lower herself onto the hard, concrete ground. She crumbles down onto her side and rests her head on her bony hands. She's laid down, looking somewhat more comfortable and relaxed, but her chest still heaves fiercely, her eyes tired and becoming weaker.

"Five minutes, then we'll see if any of these buildings are clear enough to stay in," I say.

Alicia is looking sicker and sicker by the minute. It's almost strange of how quick she's getting sick. Her eyes are half closed, and she's no longer gleaming in a thick layer of sweat. She's drying up. Her chest heaves as she inhales a breath, then lowers when she exhales; it seems to be getting harder to do so.

"Alicia," it still feels weird saying her name. It's like I know her, but I don't. I'm caring for her like I actually have known her, but I don't know her at all. "Lift your head up. You need to drink some more."

Alicia fidgets and tries to sit up some. She doesn't make it that far, so I prop my arm under her head, giving her more leverage. Her skinny fingers come up to grasp the bottle and hold it up to her mouth. She sips back the last few gulps of punch gatorade I have. Her chapped lips are painted with a light layer of red.

Gently, I prop her head back down and reach back into my bag for the bottle of water. I take two small sips. I can't take too much because I know we'll need it later. The bottle is already half way gone, and it's all we have left to drink. I don't have much energy right now for scavenging; we'll have to survive the night with the few supplies we both have.

"Okay, screw the few minutes. We need to get moving now if you can get up."

She takes her time crawling onto her now wobbly legs. Her balance is poor, and her knobby knees buckle under her as she rises up. I prop myself against her left side for support, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. She feels almost weightless over me.

"Come on," we start hobbling down the alley way back the way we came, "we need to get our arses outta this place before we become dinnies to those monsters."

With a weak voice, the brunette manages to whimper out, "I'm trying."

"Fucking hell, you sound like death," I comment. It's true; her voice is very faint, very weak, and somewhat raspy. "How the hell did ya manage to get this sick so fast?" I grunt, still clutching around her slim frame.

Alicia simply just states, "It must be the heat." She's out of breath—it sounds like she's just ran a race.

"Must be," I agree with a flat tone. "Let's just get you some shade inside here." I point us to face a small two-story shop. Willy's Leather, it reads. Not that impressive of a shop name, but who gives a fuck anymore—it's the start of the apocalypse. I'm not going to even think about the possible dick jokes this one got before the world went to hell.

Cautiously, I set the girl down outside the shop and instruct, "Stay here, and I'll be back out when it's safe. Give a holler if something goes wrong."

I only get a soft grunt in response. She's starting to actually get sick, like a sick you don't want to be when you're without any medical assistance. She's still in the burning heat of the day, luckily shaded under an overhang, though. I find myself snapping out of my haze and walking up to the store's front.

Inspecting new places is probably my least favorite thing to do these days. Out of everything shitty in our current world, searching through abandon, rundown buildings is the worst. The fuckwitts just lag in their corners until something living crosses their paths, then they proceed to scare the living shit out of you and possibly have a good meal. I don't plan on being a buffet tonight, nor do I any night, so I keep my guard up, even after I've cleared a place.

As I push the door open carefully, it creeks open obnoxiously, which is something I wish I could avoid right now. There's dust in the air; it's thick, making it harder to breathe. The shop is filled with racks of clothes, leather specifically. It's understanding because of the shop's name, but it definitely would have been surprising if I had just stepped inside a sex shop. It's a shame it wasn't; it could've made my day.

Through the dull windows, a small amount of sunlight is able to reach inside the shop, lighting half of it pretty well. I see nothing but clothes, both hung on racks and carelessly piled on the floor. The store's back is stacked with a few aisles of boots and other leathery things. As I'm creeping towards the first aisle, I brace myself for a fucker to jump out any second.

Turns out there's nothing. It's damn quiet in here, not a soul—or undead—is around on the first floor. I find that the stair case to the second floor is cut off by a door that's been locked. I recon there'll be something in there. You can bet someone locked a zed up in there. Half temped, I want to be able to knock the door from its frame in order to have cleared the whole building. Usually it's not smart to go breaking down doors, and luckily, today I skip it. I'm too exhausted to bash down the door and decide that I'll get to it later. Alicia's been waiting outside in the blazing heat alone, and she's got heat stroke from the looks of it. It's time to get her inside. Fuck the upstairs room.


We're settled in. I've checked all corners of the bottom floor, including the staff room behind the register. There's absolutely nothing here, not even a bashing on the door to the stairs. The peacefulness is nice for once. It's the little moments like this that get you, until you realize the girl you set on couch in the lounge room is dying from heat exhaustion. I'm not exaggerating it for once—she's actually dying.

Luckily the broken fridge in the room had two bottles of water in it. There was one snack bar hidden in the cabinets, but other than that, everything else I found was inedible. Yes, the fridge smelled like absolute shit when I opened it, and I don't want to remember any of that. Let's move on.

I hear a raspy, broken voice ask, "You find anything?" She's so weak; I can't believe just twenty minutes ago she was doing fine. The world is a dangerous place now with the undead, but you can't always ignore your own health to stay safe from them. Health is apart of the danger in this world, too, and it has always been. Sometimes you forget about that. Life used to be so easy. Now, it isn't. Life is about surviving, now.

"Heaps!" I chuckle sarcastically. "No, of course not. There isn't shit in here. You reckon I would find a full meal in here?"

"Sorry for asking, then," she huffs.

"Oh, look who's speaking. The one who's going to die if she doesn't get hydrated right now." I find myself somewhat annoyed with her sass, yet she's not particularly fighting me right now. I'm doing the damage myself, and I realize my tone should be readjusted back to normal. This isn't the time for a temper to brew.

As I sit next to the sack of bones laying on the couch, I uncap one of the bottles of water (luckily it's full) and take a chug of it. It's sweet and refreshing. Literally, it is the best thing I have ever had in my mouth. And I've had lots of—

Let's just carry on. That's not important. Living is important now. Surviving is important.

I can see Princess trying to frown and pout. It's a weak attempt, but I have to admit she's cute when she's slightly angry about my temper.

"Oh don't start whingin'! Here." I hold the bottle up to her, and she takes it, gulping it all down. I've never seen someone so thirsty and desperate before. Well, I take that back; I have seen someone very desperate before. It was years ago, but why should I be getting into detail over it? That's not important now! And it probably will never be. Why am I always getting off topic?

The liquid is drained from the bottle in a little over thirty seconds. She loses grip of the plastic bottle, and it clatters onto the hard floor. She pushes her head back against the sofa's arm, not caring about scrunching up her now frizzy, brunette hair. Princess closes those beautiful, green eyes with that dash of brilliant blue encasing along the perimeter of her irises. I soak in the moment, contemplating whether or not this will be the last time I see life in them. It causes something to spark inside me. I can't quite tell what it is.

She's passed out on the couch, left in a deep sleep. Only a minute ago she was awake, and it could have been her last time. I swallow hard, keeping back everything I've held in. Everyone dies someday, and these days, people die earlier than they should. They still die, though, because that's life. Death is a part of life; not many people know that, and not many people can except that. I'm trying to myself.

I find myself wobbling towards the door to the shop, my knobby knees weak and my strong legs gone almost limp. The heat is also getting to me. I'm weak, but I need to survive. My options are limited right now: suffer through the pain of trying to find food and medical supplies, or leaving her to die in there and possibly leaving myself to die as I rest.

Fuck it. I might be bloody tired, but my world isn't going to end yet.

Pushing through the front of the shop onto the footpath, I'm greeted by the beating sunlight. It's incredibly hot out—scorching. I'm already damp with sweat, although, I feel more beads of salty liquid drip from my forehead. I guess it's a good sign. I'm not sick yet.

Everything aches: my arms feel like sticks; my shoulders burn, not from the sun, but from the my weariness; and my stomach feels like it's eating itself, from the inside out. My breath is heavy as my lungs are forced to inflate and deflate. Most of all, my feet throb, screaming for me to stop and rest, but I can't. I simply let the fatigue settle in, but I won't let it take me over.

My head spins as I wander the streets aimlessly. The black asphalt of the road reflects more heat onto my pale—now pinkened—skin. I had discarded my jacket just outside of the shop I had left the sickly girl. Exposed, my arms burn up as the sun's rays pierce against my skin. I pull out the last bottle of water I have and swig two sips. Drinking it is the most amazing feeling ever. I just wish I could chug it all down right now.

Before I can no longer detach my chapped lips from the bottle's opening, I pull it away from my dry mouth and cap it. Just as I drop it lazily into my pack, I look up to find myself in front of a bottle shop. Thank whoever the fuck runs this world! As of right now, I couldn't give a shit about my spirituality—I just care about the fact that I may actually survive, along with the girl I'd saved.

All thoughts aside, I burst through the front. Yes, all thoughts were pushed away, even the idea of checking for undead. When you're as desperate as I am at the moment, all that matters is that you take that step in order to ensure your survival. I know, doing a quick sweep of the shop isn't that hard, but here I am, staggering over my own wobbly legs, grabbing onto a nearby shelf to steady my balance. I'm about as useful as a zed right now: clumsy and careless, with food as the only thing on my mind.

The whole shop is filled with liquor. There are rows of racks of different liquors, from wines to beers to whiskeys and to vodkas. It has everything, yet it all makes me want to puke by just looking at it.

I find myself at the fridge section without alcohol. It's stocked full of waters and energy drinks. I'm quick to snatch up a large bottle of water and a large sports drink. I'm keen right now, as I stash them into my bag and finish off the older bottle, tossing it to the floor when I finish it.

Next, I find the front registers, which are stocked with munchies, from chips to some candy bars. I find myself greedily grabbing every unsoiled bag and packing it away in my bag with the two bottles of fluids.

That's when I hear a crunch from a nearby aisle around the corner.