The Line

Act 1

Chapter 3

First Blood

Harry tossed himself over and over again in his small sleeping place, unable to even shut his eyes as an ominous feeling of dread and imminent danger clouded his senses.

The day was almost over.

It was near midnight. Nearly six hours have passed since Harry and the smuggler called Wolf have found a sleeping place, "A little piece of Heaven" as Wolf had called it; Harry snorted at the choice of words this man had used, in a gutted home of a deceased family. The walls were brown and dirty, littered with holes and overgrown with various local flora.

Rotten carcasses lay broken on the ground, twisting the landscape into a scene out of a horrific nightmare. The foul wind of death howled through air, softly dancing around the duo with sinister anticipation.

How can one sleep, when his resting place is right on top of a bloody graveyard? Harry thought angrily as he lay on his back on the cold, dirty ground. The self-improvised sleeping place reminded Harry painfully of his cursed cupboard, where Harry had lived most of his life.

His newly acquired rucksack leaned against a somewhat stable table to his right, not even an arm's length away from him. The smuggler said he should keep his rucksack close at all times and since Harry didn't want to feel the wrath of this damned smuggler again, Harry did what he said to the letter. A small cushion lay under his head and a torn blanket over his weakened, tired body.

Squeezing his eyes shut Harry forced himself to sleep, hoping to dream of a certain bushy brown-haired girl, with brilliant brown eyes. He imagined her tender smile gracing her beautiful features and her sweet, melodic laugh. Hermione carefully hiding her face as a faint blush caressed her cheeks, melting away the snow falling from the heavens. Captivating Hermione in an enchanting, ethereal beauty.

Harry's eyes snapped open and a tired, exasperated sigh escaped his dry lips. Frustration and blinding rage surged through his body as the image of his crush vanished into nothingness.

Fuck this. With an angry groan Harry lifted the thin blanket from his body and moved himself into comfortable sitting position. His legs to his chest, Harry let his head fall into his hands before sighing exaggeratedly. Harry knew he couldn't sleep no matter how hard he would try. A thought entered his mind and Harry slowly turned towards his rucksack lying on his right. Since his arrival in this 'world', Harry hadn't even opened his bag. He didn't even knew what was in it.

The cold midnight wind hunted around the building, carrying the faint cries of the dead, sending cold chills into Harry's heart. Trying to ignore the eerie and ominous atmosphere, Harry reached for his rucksack, slowly and carefully opening the top flap.

Spare clothes, food and water enough for at least three days, Harry measured. Rummaging around his rucksack Harry pulled out a 'Mars' chocolate bar and three cereal bars. Not hesitating a second Harry ripped each one open and devoured them in a speed that would make Ron jealous. This was his first meal since he awoke in this strange, new alien world, where unseen horror was lurking over the horizon.

Harry's stomach grumbled in satisfaction as he let the incredible aroma of the cereal bars fill his mouth, reminding him of the delicious sweets and desserts he would have eaten in Hogwarts. Together with his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. Hermione. The light of the moon shone through the broken window, illuminating half of the battered and torn room with holy white light. Harry closed his eyes as he remembered his second year, just after the first attack of the Basilisk and the opening of the damned Chamber.


"Harry, I really, really...REALLY," whispered Hermione desperately into Harry's ear with panic in her voice, "think this is a bad idea. We could get detention if the teachers catch us and lose house points. Or worse we could be expelled!" Hermione finished as she has pleaded with Harry for almost two minutes, ever since Harry had dashed across the common room like a mad man and had the impudence to part her from her important potions study to basically KIDNAP her.

Without saying anything Harry had grabbed her and pulled her out of the Gryffindor common room, threw the invisibility cloak over them, and was now leading her around the castle after curfew.

Hermione was an inch away from an angry outburst as she once again started a rant, "Harry it's curfew! What if those people who attacked Filch's cat find us or...or..." Hermione started to stutter as she tried to imagine what could happen to them if they were caught, causing her to flinch sharply.

Harry sighed and stopped in the middle of the hallway, clapping a hand on her mouth, effectively stopping her rant. He pressed Hermione and himself against the stone wall, hiding themselves from any sentries, just in case. Mischief shone in his eyes as he looked up and down the hallway, ensuring they were safe before turning his attention back to Hermione, whose cheeks burned brightly, visible even in the darkness of the night.

Harry fought vainly from blushing himself and he pondered on Hermione's blush, wondering if it was a sign of outrage or something else. Harry grinned cheekily and whispered gently to Hermione "They won't catch us Hermione, don't worry. You can return back to your homework as soon as I've shown you something..." Harry paused for effect, leaned to her ear and conspiratorially continued, "magical. How will the teachers see us if we have this?" Harry winked confidently as he carefully wiggled with their invisibility cloak.

However seeing Hermione's eyes narrowing into slits, signalling the imminent eruption of Mount Hermione, Harry had to act quickly in order to defuse the situation as he soothingly spoke "Hermione, I won't let you get into trouble. We won't get caught. I'll protect you whenever I can and however I can. And if we do get caught no blame can fall to you."

Hermione's eyes softened and the blush seemed to increase as she tried to hide her face behind her bushy hair. Glad to have defused Mount Hermione, Harry lifted his hand from her mouth as it began to sweat. His neck started to itch and sweat as a blush formed itself upon his cheeks. Just as he began to contemplate the weird feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach, a sharp pain hissed from his shin through his entire body.

Pain shot through his nervous system, and Harry rubbed his shin angrily as he stared with shock written on his face at the mischievously smirking Hermione. "That was for interrupting me during work."

Harry narrowed his eyes but decided – probably for the better - to let this one slide and continued to lead her through the hallway. Together they walked in companionable silence even though Hermione still seemed a bit anxious on getting caught red-handed while being out after curfew.

Finally Harry reached his destination, a large wooden door. Hermione stared in wonder at the door before casting a questioning glance at Harry. Harry smirked as he pulled out his wand and opened the door with a quick "Alohomora." The door creaked open, revealing pure darkness. Harry and Hermione shivered unconsciously, and all the while Hermione grew more and more suspicious. Something just didn't feel right. She shook her head and took a few controlling breaths. No, Harry would never harm her.

Harry led her through the door into the room and the darkness enveloped them. "Harry, what are we doing here?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound frightened.

Harry felt sorry for frightening her but he knew that the sight they would soon be facing was definitely worth it. Also he quite liked to tease and frighten Hermione a little, causing her to scoot closer into his embrace. "I swear it's nothing bad it will be worth it, trust me." Harry whispered gently holding her small hand within his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Then it happened. The 'roof' burned brightly, enlightening the entire room before settling into a warm, comforting light. The roof seemed to open and split itself apart before revealing a magnificent sight. Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Astonishment and pure excitement sparkled in her eyes as she witnesses the beauty of what was happening before her very eyes. Her heart was racing with warmth and she could feel her blood flushing into her cheeks, colouring them in a beautiful pink. "Aurora Borealis..." whispered Hermione in wonder.

Harry smiled, relieved that Hermione liked his surprise so far. Floating high above the duo's heads, shimmering brightly in multiple colours were the famous Aurora Borealis. Ranging from bright red to a darkish, almost emerald green, (Hermione blushed at this as she was reminded of a certain pair of eyes belonging to a very dear friend of hers.) shimmering in large wavy lines, the coloured streaks danced across the nighttime sky. They twisted and turned continuously, taking different shapes and forms.

"Wow." Breathed Hermione, completely transfixed at the spectacle in front of her. Harry, though, kept his gaze on something much more beautiful. He had first thought finding this room and witnessing it's wonders was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but he was wrong. The object of his interest had bushy brown hair, was the same height as him, her cheeks were flushed cutely and her eyes shone lively with excitement.

Before Harry could react or daresay blink, he was assaulted by a bushy, brown-haired missile flinging her arms across his neck and squeezing him for dear life. "Thank you, Harry." She mumbled into his ear, not letting him go or even lessening her embrace.

"Your... wel... come.." Harry managed to cough out with what breath he had left as he snaked his arms around her waist, savouring the moment.


Harry was snapped out of his melancholy by a deafening explosion outside of the house. It sounded so far yet so close at the same time. Harry pricked his ears and listened for any more strange, suspicious noises.

He heard nothing but the anguished cries of the dying and the guttural growls of unimaginable monsters in the distance.

Gulping heavily, Harry knew that the smuggler would have been wide awake by now. Currently he was residing in the second floor the former working office of the patriarch of the family. Clearing his mind, Harry continued to dig through his newly attained rucksack. His finger grasped blindly at the contents with the rucksack until he felt the familiar feeling of old parchment. Pulling it out Harry saw that it was a letter with a single word written on it: consequences.

A dark frown found it's way on Harry's face as a ominous feeling of incoming dread slowly enveloped his mind. Carefully, Harry opened the envelope holding the letter and immediately two pictures fell out, landing on their backs. Ignoring them for the moment, Harry unfolded the letter and read.

Dear Mister Potter,

Undoubtedly you must be wondering where we have sent you and why. Let us assure you, as to why you are here, that these reasons are highly confidential and don't concern you in the slightest. This letter is merely serving as a guide and a reminder for your task. YOU HAVE TO BRING BACK YOUR SISTER! Now we'd like to give you a picture of the situation your currently in, hopefully increasing your chances of survival. You must have noticed the situation at your current location is dismal. That's an understatement. 20 years ago a fungal outbreak (Cordyceps Brain Infection, or CBI) had ravaged the planet wiping out 60% of the world's population. The Infection is spread via direct contact (Bites or fluid contact. Infection post mortem is thankfully not possible.) and through spores, emitted from deceased Infected corpses. Spores cannot spread in open areas or with sufficient air flow. Nations, law and order have been torn asunder. The infection's origins are unknown, though it is highly debated that the outbreak first occurred somewhere in South America. Your area of operation is the United States of America in the year 2033. The Democratic Government has fallen apart during the Outbreak but was reestablished five years ago in much more simpler fashion (puppeteer state) by the US Military. Territories include: Maryland (Washington D.C serving as base of operations for all military activity within and outside their territory), Delaware, New Jersey, Virginia, California, and parts of North Carolina. Their outposts, Quarantine Zones and protection camps are widely scattered, the infrastructure and economy between them is highly difficult due to the large contaminated areas (Grey Territories are the outer area of operations for US Military personnel and No man's Land, land given up with no chance of reclamation.) and outside threats (rouge factions, Infected, and Fireflies), threatening overall security of the Free United States. Rouge human factions within the Grey Territories heretofore referred to as "Hunters" WILL threaten and try to kill with every asset at their disposal. Combat, regrettably, is unavoidable therefore it is highly advised to resort to the strictest punitive measures to ensure success of the Operation. Possible allies are rare and hard to find due to distrust and high hostility towards foreigners. In the event of meeting another human being, extreme caution and combat readiness is advised.

Mister Potter we highly hope that you will succeed in your task due to the difficulty. The timetable is widely stretched, allowing you to operate freely and with your own evaluation, not restricting you in your decisions. We are quite certain you will ensure your sister's safety at whatever the cost. Though sadly we have to remind you that if you do fail or decide to operate against us, extreme measures will be taken in order to punish you significantly. As you see there are two photos with your letter. I think once you see them you will understand what consequences might follow your failure or betrayal.

Good luck and enjoy the lovely atmosphere.

Harry let the letter glide down to the floor as it escaped his limp hands. Slowly his hands tightened themselves into fits, shaking viciously. His entire body trembled as Harry angrily muttered, "Fucking bastards! How dare they!" With shaking hands Harry grasped at the pictures lying on the ground, already dreading what he would find. Slowly turning the picture to see its content Harry let out a strangled scream as he bit his tongue trying to suppress the coming scream of despair.

The picture was in black and white.

It showed a young girl not older then fourteen or maybe fifteen. Her long hair, which Harry knew were a lovely chestnut brown was tied up in a messy bun. A ice cream was in her hands. A soft, beautiful smile graced her sweet lips, which Harry had memorized for so long. She was looking at a tall man who Harry recognized as the father of his best friend. Hermione and her father were having the time of their lives, eating ice cream at a small outdoor cafe. They were joking around and strengthening the bond between father and daughter.

Completely oblivious of the world.

Oblivious to their watchers, who kept an careful eye on her, straight through the scope of a sniper rifle. The crosshairs were lied down straight at her chest where her heart was located, which was covered by a white T-Shirt.

His hands trembled, as did his muscles; every single fiber in his young yet worn hands shook with rage and fury. His fingers buried themselves into the fine paper, tearing it in half, his knuckles pale white. "God fucking damn it!" snarled Harry furiously through his gritted teeth. The torn picture lay beneath his feet on the dirty, cold wooden floor. Furious, Harry buried his head into his hands and muttered, quite soundly, every single foul word he knew. Their threat was true. They would hurt anyone close to him. They would hurt her. Harry thought desperately as he ran his hands through his unkempt hair. Why does this keep happening to me?! Every single year the universe throws in another messed up thing at me...GOD DAMN IT!

Frustrated, Harry shook his head vigorously to clear his mind from the horrific thoughts that now haunted his waking mind. Hermione and her loving family dead. Shot, point blank. Their house covered in their own blood. Her glassy, dead eyes staring at him accusingly. Sirius killed while being on the run. All because of him.

NO! That has not, nor will it ever happen. I won't allow it. I will get my 'sister' and get back home. They just gave another reason to succeed. If she really is my sister, this Ellie, than I have one more reason to play ball. For now.

Harry's eyes drifted warily across the room and fell upon the second picture that was in the letter. Warily he picked it up, already dreading what he was about to see. This picture however was in colour and weirdly filled his heart with the unfamiliar, warm, soothing feeling of hope. It was of Hermione, that much was clear and she was beautiful. To Harry anyway. Any other would've thought that she was just a plain-looking girl with untameable, long, bushy brown hair and two large front teeth.

Yet Harry saw her for what she was. A beautiful young teenager with enough courage and intellect not from this world. A cute little nose, soft pink lips and her rose-coloured cheeks as she looked into the camera with her face cast downwards in a shy expression. A few snowflakes were falling down her bushy hair, partially hidden beneath a bright red woolen cap.

The picture was taken during their winter semester of their third year.

He didn't knew where or how they got that photo and it slightly disturbed him, but seeing Hermione even on picture alive and well was enough to lighten up his mood. She was like a precious diamond; always willing to help those in need and never abandoning her friends. She was innocent in her heart but that didn't mean she couldn't deal out a few punches (Harry snickered as memories from his third year arose in him. How Malfoy clutched his broken nose, with Hermione standing above his crumbled form, softly shaking her used fist.) Her chestnut brown eyes shone warmly with intelligence and revealed her good-hearted nature. Her hair was untameable, just like herself. A free spirit, but incredibly stubborn.

Harry longingly looked at the picture for seemingly an eternity, when felt how his eyes were sluggishly closing shut. With his last bit of strength Harry slipped the picture into his shirt pocket before he surrendered himself to the blissful world of dreams.


A slender black girl walked across a desolated shopping mall. It was pitch black. The only light in this darkness was her flashlight, strapped on the left sling of her rucksack, right on top of her shoulder.

Left foot, right foot.

Freeze.

Sweep left and right. Check for noises.

Move on.

That was her routine. That's how she had survived for as long as she could remember. Her father always told her to watch where you were going and where you set down your foot. A broken, dusty piece of glass or one single bump in the terrain beneath your feet could lead to fatal consequences. You'd fall, injure yourself, maybe trip a booby trap.

But worst of all, it would make hell of a lot of noise. And noise attracts THEM. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine as she stopped and took a deep, calming breath. She didn't want to appear weak in front of her new, dearest friend, who was anxiously walking close behind her. They had met approximately half a year ago.

Still felt like an eternity to her.

Time in a world like this flies by with out you noticing it. Changes happen so fast. How quickly Mother Nature reclaims her lost territory, like the trees growing in the middle of the street or the pavement breaking up to reveal green weeds that shot out of the ground. The gigantic concrete walls, hastily built up by the military. The Quarantine Zones. The executions. The brutal fights between Fireflies and US Soldiers. The Hunters and...Infected. Death.

The young girl was brought out of her depressing trail of thoughts by the voice of her companion as she whispered "Riley, what are you doing? Everything okay?"

The girl named Riley looked over her shoulder and looked at the girl who was the same height as her. The darkness was covering her face, only her bright green eyes that shone like beacons of hope were visible.

Riley let out a forced chuckle as she replied "Just got a bit sentimental. Hey, someone has to take that role once in a while." She said with a grin. Her companion lightly shoved her shoulder and motioned to continue walking.

They were in a large abandoned shopping mall. A boutique was to their left and a small cafe to their right. Its wooden chairs lay broken on the cold, overgrown floor. The tables still stood where couples, colleagues and friends had once dined together, sharing bonding moments. They probably talked and worried about their personal lives, their education and other feeble worries a person would have had when the world wasn't this messed up. But neither Riley nor her companion could relate to that. Born years after the catastrophic outbreak that had ravaged humanity, they didn't have the chance to live life with such luxuries.

As pointless as they are. Riley thought bitterly. She had heard the tales from survivors who were driven mad by the sudden shift of the world.

Many had killed themselves during the first few weeks of the chaotic outbreak, as they simply couldn't handle how their hard earned lives they had built themselves over the years crumbled; all of the hard work, the extra hours to pay off your mortgage and raise a family, gone. It was like someone had flicked a switch and the world as you knew was gone.

One day you would've met with your neighbours for a barbecue. The kids would have been playing amongst themselves, having the time of their lives, having nothing to worry about...and the next thing you know you're fighting for yours and your family's lives.

You would run for your life, abandon everything you've worked for to safe your loved ones. Or yourself.

You would steal, riot, run, hide, do things you wouldn't have thought of doing in your entire life. You would kill. Or be killed. Every passing second in this new terrifying world was the unfamiliar struggle for survival.

It wasn't that hard to lose yourself in this insanity.

"Are you saying that I am naive?" Her companion asked in mock offended tone. Riley turned towards her companion, the spotlight of her flashlight shinning at her, revealing her to the world. She was white, had a thin body, arms, and legs. Dirt covered most of her skin and clothes. She wore an sleeveless, coloured checkered shirt, as well as blue jeans with many holes in them, which looked ready to fall apart. Her face was small a bit childlike, yet immensely cute. She had full, lightly pursed lips along with soft cheeks covered with freckles. She had a little button nose and striking emerald green eyes. Her dirty red hair was tied back into a messy ponytail that just reached her shoulder blades.

'Ellie!'

Said girl looked over her shoulder and shivered slightly as her eyes danced across the hallway. Riley merely quirked an eyebrow at Ellie's reaction and simply shrugged, unconcerned.

"Did you hear that?!" asked Riley's companion, Ellie, in a hushed whisper. A chuckle escaped Riley's cool facade, casting Ellie a 'have you gone mental?' look before replying mockingly "Heard what? The ghosts of the shopping mall? They gonna take you for a bargain hunt, like Allison always told us?"

Ellie scoffed and rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Quit bullshitting! I swear I just heard my name...you know what? Forget it. I highly doubt your pea brain could possibly understand it."

Riley grinned as she opened her mouth for a witty reply, only to be disrupted by gurgled, pained cough, followed by a terrible moan.

Riley's eyes widened in horror and cold fear washed over her entire body, her faithful companion mirroring her emotions. The duo crept as silently as possible into cover, their breaths catching in their throats. Grasping her companion's arm, Riley as quietly as possible dragged her into the boutique. The clothes and perfumes that were once sold here en masse lay discarded on the ground, like mines triggering dangerous noise that would almost certainly alert those creatures to their presence. And their meal.

The girls crept silently in the shadows, avoiding the treacherous debris littering the ground. A moan and a gurgling cough sent jolts of fear through their young bodies.

There was more shuffling, dirt being kicked off the ground as someone, or rather something, moved ever closer to their hiding spot. Then the moving stopped and long pained moan was audible, gripping the hearts of the young girls. A sharp cold wind blew through the entire mall with an unbelievable viciousness. The girls shivered as the cold hit their largely exposed bodies as whatever thin clothes they wore did not help against the relentless cold.

Riley barely suppressed a sneeze and shivered sharply. An anguished moan escaped the creature, merely fifteen meters in front of them, and then a soft whimper. Suddenly Riley felt someone on her left shaking and realized that her companion struggled to hold down a sneeze.

Lightning suddenly illuminated the mall, revealing the disturbing silhouette of the creature, the disturbing, horrific, deformed shadow of a modern and very real monster. Its knees were bent, its arms twisted, and its head shaking and twisting in every direction. Another bone-chilling moan was uttered by the creature. It wailed with it's seemingly crippled arms, flinging them wildly over it's head.

Ellie's body shook vigorously, her eyes closed and her mouth wide open, ready to bring death upon the two. Riley in a flash covered the mouth of her friend with her own hand, hoping desperately it would help. But it did not hinder the muffled sneeze from being audible. Her companion blinked owlishly, fearfully. The being groaned hungrily, turning sharply towards them.

It uttered a grotesque moan, then a soft, pitiful whimper.

Hastened, uncoordinated footfalls halted almost directly in front of them.

Both girls were frozen in fear, their hearts hammering in their small chests. Their clothes were soaked in their own sweat.

Another horrible, bone-chilling flash of lightning illuminated the midnight sky. But what happened next would surely shock the two teenage girls to their very cores. The creature gave a loud groan and spoke "LEA...V...EEEEE"

It spoke. The horrifying creature that had come from the sickest and most disturbing nightmares had talked.

Never before had either of the girls seen or heard something so gut-wrenchingly terrible.

The voice sounded so broken. So weak...and yet so familiar. And that fact haunted the two young girls to their very bones.

The girls looked at each other and slowly, with utmost care, the duo sneaked through the boutique. They had their fair amount of experience with the Infected, mostly the horribly disfigured Clickers. Though it was mostly from afar and always on the run or hiding as soon as the Clicker's distinguished echolocation was heard.

But hearing one of those beings talk, was something very alien and very disturbing. As they silently exited the boutique Riley remained only for a short while and turned her head to gaze in the general direction of the Infected and once again heard it, trying desperately to form words, to speak, to remain sane. "...Wh...y?" It gulped morosely.

Riley shut eyes and thought with determination, That will never happen to me or Ellie. Shaking her head, Riley stepped backwards, her feet dancing over the debris littered and dirty ground when she felt her feet tripping over something smooth and slippery and before she knew it a loud crack sounded and Riley fell to the floor face first.

Silence.

Utter, shocked silence.

Time seemed to slow down as Riley shot a look of terror at Ellie and then turned her head only to hear a deafening, hungry howl.

Before Riley could react a figure burst out of the darkness with incredible speed.

Blood red eyes, "his" head shaking wildly, seemingly of it's own accord. "His" torso arched backwards as if the creature seemingly fought against himself, desperately trying to stop himself from a terrible, inhuman deed.

"RUUNNNNN!" the beast shouted abnormally, eerie yellow fluid flowing out of his mouth through bloody and sharpened teeth. Riley distantly heard a female cry and before she knew it the creature clouded her senses and everything turned to black.


Harry gasped sharply as he shot up from his sleeping place, sitting upright on the mercilessly cold and insect-infested wooden floor. Tiredly, Harry rubbed his face with his hands when he heard a shout from the ground floor yelling at him from the bottom of the staircase, "Oi, Boyo! Quick, get your ass down here. We'll move out in an hour." Harry groaned as he collected his bearings slinging his rucksack over his shoulder and making his way downstairs. The floor creaked and groaned and dust fell upon the lower floors as Harry walked across the hallway, his mind racing and still grasping to understand the world he is in now.

His relatives were dead. Somehow, beyond Harry's reasoning, that thought was so foreign so alien that it disturbed him deeply. But why? Why? I hated them! Their home was never MY home! They sure as hell made sure of that! They hated me and I hated them! They abused me and locked me in a cupboard till I went to Hogwarts. Almost let me starve to death on multiple occasions! So why do I FUCKING FEEL PITY FOR THESE BASTARDS?! They got their satisfaction when they saw me weakened and broken after a beating from Dudley, or a punishment from Vernon, or when I had starved for almost a week and was too weak to even stand upright. I bet Vernon got a bloody erection from that, that sick, sadistic whale. I still have the scars. So why? Why do I feel bad about them or even sad?

What he didn't notice when he had entered the small waiting room was the curious stare from Wolf who looked up at him from a small fireplace. Two small slightly roasted large pieces of meat were speared through a steel rod.

Harry, unsure of what to do and how to act towards Wolf, only gave a quick, almost nervous nod. Wolf, apparently uncaring, waved Harry over and grunted, "Meal. Eat quickly. I wanna head out in about an hour." Without another word Wolf grabbed his piece of meat and savagely began to rip it apart and stuff it into his mouth.

Even Ron has more manners than this man. Harry thought as he too sat down on the ground opposite to the smuggler and began to tuck in. They ate their meal in silence, Harry casting suspicious glances at the unnerving man. Harry didn't trust the smuggler, but he was his ticket to his sister and he could not take any chances.

Wolf watched the boy he was supposed to protect and get to Boston in one piece with great interest, but also with an equal amount of suspicion and distrust.

What is so special about you wimp? Wolf thought to himself as he bit off a large chunk of meat from his skewered, roasted remains of his loot. A rabbit. It had took almost two hours to catch that little trouble maker.

They came in the middle of the night, right on his doorstep. He had slept as usual, his back against a wall, his body pointed at the only entry point to his 'bedroom'. His ears were pricked to make out even the slightest disturbance and breaches of his alarm system. His right hand laying over his Lupra, ready to kill anyone foolish enough to disturb him or to even try and rob him.

He had learned the hard way to be prepared for anything and not get yourself caught with your pants down quite early in his life.

Wolf still shuddered at the memory. But what made him really shudder was the memory of the day he got the contract.

First broken glass shards on the hallway and on the emergency exits. Then hollow tin cans, wrapped into tightly stretched pieces of string at the staircases and the rooms opposite and next door. Spring guns in front of his doorstep and on all windows. All in all eight spring guns. Wolf recounted his well laid-out alarm and defense systems. He was certain that no one could get to him without setting of an alarm.

But somehow THEY had done it. Wolf remembered them. Three men. Clean shaven heads, dark sunglasses and black suits, as clean and tidy as if just recently scoured. Behind them were two people in labcoats. One was a woman, her brunette hair tied up in a complex yet elegant bun. She had porcelain cheeks and full red lips.

Her partner was a man his silky black hair combed backwards. His chin was held arrogantly high. Disdain and superiority shone brightly in the man's dark eyes.

Upon instinct Wolf had squeezed the trigger of his shotgun with an intent to kill, to destroy this hallucination. But the gun did something it had never done before.

It jammed.

The shock had rendered him useless and he merely stared with wide, shock-filled eyes at the imposing, mysterious men.

Shame burned within Wolf every time the memories of this event were resurfaced. There were only a few moments where Wolf had felt so useless. He had never told anyone about his failures. They were his and his alone.

But yet again, somehow THEY knew of his past. They knew of his life on the streets of Minneapolis. They knew of his thefts and vandalism, all to keep him and those he cared for alive. And they knew of Beverley.

Wolf's stomach twisted guiltily has the name shot through his waking mind, releasing long buried, bitter memories. Disgruntled and thoroughly sickened, Wolf threw the leftovers of his meal to the ground and stood up, grabbing his rucksack in one fluid motion.

The boy looked surprised at the smuggler and opened his mouth, only to close it again soundlessly as he thought better of it. Wordlessly Harry mirrored the smuggler and patiently waited for him to let him in on the plan. If the bastard even has one. Thought Harry bitterly.

Wolf sighed and snatched a tattered piece of paper from the mantle of the fireplace. A map, Harry realized as he listened to what the smuggler said.

"Alright, we will follow Route 1 all way to Portsmouth. That's were we going to rest in a safehouse of mine. WE should be able to get into Portsmouth at nightfall if your lazy ass can keep up and we don't run into any trouble."

Harry narrowed his eyes into slits at the not-so-subtle insult at him and merely nodded at the smuggler, who scoffed with indifference and shot Harry a look that basically screamed 'You are nothing. Just as worthless as the gum beneath my shoe'

Harry unintentionally flinched as that look struck him close to home. He had seen this look countless times when he was younger. And it always preceded a vicious beating.

The smuggler apparently caught the haunted and frightened look on his cargo's face,but merely turned on his heels and exited the building with Harry close to his heels, beginning a journey into a beautiful hostile world.


The sun was at its highest peak, shining brightly over the desolated road. Ruined cars stood at the edge of the road, their car paint peeling and simply nonexistent after nearly twenty years of neglect and being out in the open, left at the mercy of Mother Nature.

Harry was slowly getting used to seeing the chaos on the highway and on Route 1 where they were now present. It almost had a foreboding feeling of much worse to come. Harry shuddered at the thought.

He had yet to see a city and with the sight of sheer cataclysmic devastation on the countryside and the highways leading into the big, great cities reeking of death and despair; Harry harboured great reluctance in getting into one of the cities.

The subtly hinted horrors of the past and the present haunted Harry's young mind. The countless dead bodies Harry had first encountered on Highway 95, a monument to the failed evacuation attempt.

He was reminded of the corpses he had found at the ruined private practice. The family who all had perished in this terrible nightmare. The journal of the father describing the insanity of the 'outbreak' and how everything you've known and cared for vanished into nothingness before your very eyes.

Harry didn't know what he would've done if he was in their place, if he had to live through this nightmare. Lazily Harry adjusted his rucksack as it began to hurt his shoulders. His legs were aching and Harry was sure that his feet had quite a few blisters.

Every single step hurt up to his very bones, yet Harry had to march on or fear to lose the smuggler who walked carelessly among the rotten corpses and wrecked dreams. The glimpse of yet another carcass caught Harry's eye although he tried very hard not to look at it.

A car had crashed against the crash barrier, ripping it in two. The front of the car was gone and a skeleton was sprawled across the windshield. The skeleton's left arm was missing, its clothes ripped apart and tattered or they had dissolved into fine ashes of the past.

Vigorously breaking his gaze from the corpse. Harry turned at look at the smuggler before him.

A large, brutish knife was strapped on to the right side of rucksack, ready to be swiftly drawn in case the need arose to give the unlucky fella caught by this terrible and brutal weapon a slow, gory, painful death. Wolf's hand twitched over his Lupra strapped on his right thigh. The smuggler walked confidently with his head held high, yet his senses sharp and on the edge. He appeared like he was expecting an ambush at any given time.

Wolf was in deep thought. Once again his mind had wandered to his cargo, his protege, if you wish. Even though he would never admit it he 'cared' for the boy. After all he is my contract so I have to take care of him. Wolf thought as he remembered who the boy flinched upon seeing his, without a doubt, disgusted look back at the private practice. The boy seemed to be sure he had himself under control and Wolf had missed it. But he hadn't. He had seen that reaction before.

That was a long time ago. Wolf reminded himself. But seeing the boy was like looking in a mirror, he was like the spitting image of his childhood. Naive, careless and innocent. He reminded him of the freezing cold days in the Minneapolis subway system, his races against the police or other homeless people to find a sleeping place. 'A little piece of heaven.' As Beverly would've called it. Wolf reminisced with a small and rare grin on his face.

Unconsciously Wolf scratched the beardless side of his face, desperately trying to force down a wave of painful memories, when suddenly everything stopped.

Silence.

Wolf shot his left hand into the air forming a tight fist, motioning Harry to stay still. The boy looked at the smuggler with a nervous yet curious expression.

Wolf pricked his ears, listening carefully to his surroundings. He was a hundred percent certain he had heard something out of the ordinary. Something unnatural.

A few birds whistled in the wind. The buzzing noises of the insects pestered the duo. The clatter of metal hitting metal in a slow unsteady rhythm. He heard the mighty steps and the neighing of a horse.

Harry had stopped. confused at the sudden, almost anxious halt of the smuggler in front of him. Then in the blink of an eye, before Harry could gather his thoughts, the smuggler whipped out his shotgun and hurried towards the crash barrier, nimbly jumping over it and disappearing from Harry's view.

Slightly hesitating, Harry stumbled forward and rushed to the smuggler. Hastily Harry vaulted over the barrier and slid down onto the ground to find himself next to Wolf, who immediately shushed him, moving his index finger sharply across his throat. Needless to say, Harry got the message.

Carefully Harry peeked out of their cover only to snatch it back in fear of the unknown. It was a natural instinct, to fear the strange, the unknown. And in a world like this it is most definitely helpful to rely on one's primal instincts. Shooting a questioning and fearful look at the smuggler, Harry saw the man holding his signature weapon steadily in both of his hands.

Intrigued at what the smuggler might have heard to cause such a reaction, Harry too pricked his ears, determined to find out the source the recent disturbance.

Nothing.

Harry frowned slightly as he only the heard the wild chirping of the birds high above him and the almost inaudible clatter of metal and the neighing of a horse.

Wait, what? Harry sharply glanced back at the smuggler who merely inched his head to a nod as he was coming to the same conclusion as Wolf. Someone was out there on a horse.

Wolf suppressed a grin as he noted that the young boy had managed to pick up and correctly decipher the noise. Kid's learning fast. Wolf thought, slightly relieved as he quickly turned back at the matter at hand.

The gallop of the horse was too deliberate, so it couldn't be a wild animal. The metal could either be cargo or weapons.

The gallop of the horse became louder and louder. A sounding whip sounded throughout the area and a pained neighing was heard immediately afterwards.

Tenderly the smuggler tightened his grip over his gun and slowly flipped over the safety of his Lupra, emitting a soft, almost unnoticeable clicking noise.

Inwardly Wolf grimaced just as the horse gave out a loud shuddering neighing, its steps halting abruptly.

"I know you're out there! Come out now!" shouted a disembodied male voice. Once again the silence was disrupted by a soft clicking noise. The safety of a gun, probably a rifle. Assessed Wolf swiftly as he slowly rose up with carefully and steady steps, aiming down his gun's sights, ready to eliminate the possible hostile threat.

Throwing a swift glance was all he needed to tell the boy to stay put as he came out of the safety of their cover.

As Wolf came out of his cover and climbed over the crash barrier he saw who this possible threat was. It was an old man in tattered clothes. He was fat. He had an unkempt white beard, and the man's left eye was covered with an eyepatch. A yellow headband was strapped over his head. A brown coat so unkempt and dirty that its colour had started to faded into a sickly grey covered his shoulders. The old man was holding an equally old rifle in his hands, his left index finger twitching over the trigger.

He was sitting on a cart tied to the horses back. A whip was lying right next him. Various wares and objects hung somewhat safely at the edges of the cart.

A merchant. Wolf relaxed slightly but kept his unwavering aim on the travelling merchant. A sickening, gut-wrenching stench violated Wolf's finely developed sense of smell as he deduced another fact about the man within just a few seconds of first contact. He is also a drunkard. Wolf thought as he fought down a sneer that threatened to appear on his face. The half empty whiskey bottle sitting on the merchants lap was also a obvious indicator for this thesis.

"Drop tha' gun boy." sneered the merchant as he aimed directly at Wolf's chest, although Wolf highly doubted the man could even hit an elephant if it was standing directly in front of him.

"Not gonna happen." shot Wolf back quickly, his aim steady and deadly precise. preparing himself for the worst Wolf, inched towards a ruined car with the intend of using it a some sort of cover.

The merchant huffed indignantly before hammering his right hand against the roof of the cart. Fearing the worst, Wolf's index finger gripped the trigger, only inches away of unloading a volley of lead into the belly of the drunk merchant.

"Hold yer' horses BOY! Just offer'n you wares!" the merchant slurred loudly, holding out his right hand in a non-hostile motion, all the while aiming his rifle at the smuggler's chest.

Wolf didn't even hesitate before he stoically replied "Not interested."

"Shame, boy...I have some real good stuff like for example... a good ol' M1 Carbine. Full magazine. Not having even aged a bit. Or... how about... a few bottles of water." the merchant said with a shit-eating grin as he was almost certain to have hooked in another customer.

Wolf narrowed his eyes unnoticeably. He knew that water was scarce, more so in the 'No man's Land' or the 'Lawless territories'. It was like Wild West all over again, only far worse. Water was the new gold in the frontier and was kept under lock and key in all known enclaves. Every survivor would be willing tear each other apart for only a glass of water. Wolf knew it, he had seen it countless of times. Water was THE most precious resource in this world. So for someone to trade their vital water was either really, really stupid or happening over a dead body.

Wolf inclined towards the second theory.

"Like I said," Wolf said more firmly this time, "I am not interested."

The expression of the merchant turned into stone so quickly that Wolf had to look twice to make sure he wasn't just imagining it. Sweat was beginning to build up on Wolf's forehead as a bad feeling began to rise up from his gut.

"Shame." was the merchants stoic reply and stared at the smuggler dead in the eyes. Without breaking the hate-filled gaze the merchant lashed out his cart-whip and struck his horse with terrifying strength. The horse neighed in pain and began to gallop steadily onward.

Wolf kept his aim at the retreating back of the drunk merchant the steady clatter of metal and the pained neighing of the horse disrupting the tense atmosphere.

Once Wolf was sure the merchant was gone he grumbled, "Alright boyo, come on out! We need to be at my safe house by nightfall." He didn't even give Harry the time to reply before beginning to jog towards Portsmouth.


Portsmouth before the outbreak was the fourth largest community in the county of New Hampshire, having a headcount of almost 22,000 people. It was a prosperous city, a city at the very border between the counties New Hampshire and Maine, separated by Piscataqua River. Coming from Maine, the city can be accessed through three bridges. The Memorial Bridge, the Sarah Mildred Long Bridge and the Interstate 95 at Maine Turnpike and Blue Star Turnpike. In the Cold War it was the home of the headquarters of the Strategic Air Command, the Pease Air Force base which was later converted to Portsmouth International Airport at Pease.

When the outbreak occurred Portsmouth was used as a diversion bridge, or more fittingly a reception camp, for the evacuation caravans in New Hampshire and the southern parts of Maine. Through the Airport and the main crossroads, Interstate 95 and US Route 1, the caravans of refugees were sent to their predetermined QZ and protection camps. Although 'predetermined' would be a very loose description. Families got ripped apart in the chaos, people shot for seemingly unfathomable reasons, riots broke out to get a ticket for the QZ and protection camps. But being a reception camp and with the influx of people, the Units responsible for overseeing the transportation and evacuation effort inwardly transported the very thing that was responsible for the dire situation. The Cordyceps infection.

A midst the hundreds of thousands of refugees, many were unknowingly infected or just hid their infection to save their lives, dooming entire cities. And when the first signs of Infected in Portsmouth started to leak out and be very well-known through the grotesque and brutal onslaught of the Infected, the situation for the entire evacuation was untenable. Seemingly all at once the sectors of the city began to fall. It only took a short while till the soldiers were routing, abandoning their post, only a few units managing an ordered withdrawal towards the nearest active military base or QZ. The civilians butchered themselves; everyone fended for themselves. Now only the abandoned cars blocking every single main road or bridge have remained.

The crashed planes, one having leveled an entire city block including the Music Hall and the Great Portsmouth Athenaeum, a private library sheltering various precious books and documents holding the knowledge of decades, were burnt to crisps and turned to ashes. The wreckage overgrown with grass still remaining in place undeterred, like an ominous monument.

The sun was touching the earth, enlightening it in a dim red light. Wolf stared at the city across the from the other side of the river. Tiredly he scratched his neck as he looked satisfied at the city lying before him.

"Well there she is... Portsmouth in all it's rotting beauty." Wolf spoke with a grin on his face he turned to look at his protege, only to see him sitting on the ground gasping for breath and rubbing his undoubtedly sore legs.

Looks like I pushed him too far. Wolf thought warily as he sighed in resignation. A rare sign. He clasped his hands together and spoke almost cheerfully "Alright, since we are early we can have some rest."

Suddenly Wolf felt unsure and he didn't know why. The boy was now laying on his back, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. Awkwardly Wolf continued "Well, how does half an hour sound, huh?" Getting no answer from him, Wolf merely grumbled and sat down on the grass, allowing himself some sort of rest.

It took Harry nearly fifteen minutes to gather himself and for the aching pain in his limbs to go away. Immediately after that Harry shed his rucksack and grabbed few pieces of bread, some rice and a bottle of water. Harry didn't spare a glance at the smuggler as he ate his meal with a greed at would make Ron run for his money. The blood was rushing into his brain, seemingly ripping it apart. His stomach grumbled in hunger. His limbs hurt like he had just received a beating from his despised uncle. For the first time in almost three years, Harry felt just as exhausted as he had once felt after a beating from his thankfully deceased uncle.

After Harry was finished with his meal, he lay back down on the ground and rested for what felt to him like an eternity. It was then when he heard the voice of the smuggler, "Alright, time's up. Let's get going."

Growling in sheer frustration Harry rose from his place, shouldered his rucksack and marched along the smuggler towards his safe house.

"Alright boyo, there a three safe houses. The first, which we will be using for now is on this side of the river at Kittery, on Cook Street. The other is at the city center on Middle street and the last is near the airport. A lot of useful resources there." Wolf muttered, barely audible, yet still able for Harry to pick it up.

Harry merely nodded stoically while watching sunset as they walked down a sandy path. Blissful silence dominated the air as the duo reached small array of houses. Remarkably, most of them were intact, sporting only superficial damage; a few bullet holes, scorched areas and a few rotten corpses.

The only rotten constant in this damned world are devastated areas and rotting corpses. Fan-bloody-tastic. Harry thought, deeply disgusted as he shook his head morosely. Looking at a house to his right though, Harry frowned as he muttered, "Do not approach. We are armed!"

The smuggler looked disinterestedly over his shoulder before replying, "At the time of the outbreak lotsa people did some crazy shit and people...people were afraid." The smuggler hesitated slightly before continuing much quieter voice, "Some more than others. Just enough to shoot just as about anyone who looked at them the wrong way."

Harry quirked an eyebrow in surprise that the smuggler even cared to answer him. Adjusting his speed to the smuggler Harry asked curiously, "Have you ever seen some of those things?"

This time the smuggler didn't look over his shoulder as he muttered, "Just because I have answered you, doesn't mean you are granted to speak. So shut your mouth."

Anger arose in Harry as he growled, and was about to reply when he felt a sharp wind brush against the back of his head.

A piercing whistle deafened his ears.

And a sounding bang broke the silence like a sudden hammerfall.

Then all hell broke loose. The wood to Harry's left exploded, sending sharp splinters flying into Harry's clothes. Numbly Harry felt a hand grasping the hem of his shirt and pulling him into the building.

"FLANK THEM!" Shouted a disembodied male voice filled with malevolence. Numerous heavy footfalls echoed throughout the neighbourhood.

Wolf quickly pulled out his Lupra and assessed the battle area. They were in a living room with a glass wall behind them, to their right was an open kitchen with a small bar. A few stools stood there, three to be exact. The sofa was thrown over the coffee table, which promptly shattered into bits.

Not much cover! Wolf thought bitterly as his mind ran through numerous scenarios. "Boyo, stay down and take cover in the kitchen. Go!" Wolf hissed sharply before jumping into the fray.

Harry nodded meekly before hurrying to cover. He hid behind the bar and listened to the guttural yells and loud, deafening gunshots. Angry shouts and dying screams echoed throughout the nighttime sky, filling the once peaceful, harmonic suburban neighbourhood with guts and blood and death.

Two might blasts shook Harry to his very core "Jesus Christ." He muttered shortly after another dying scream was the response to the vicious attack.

"HE'S AT THE HOUSE! KILL HIM!" shouted another voice and by the noise level Harry would've have guessed the source was at least two houses away from him. It still managed to send cold chills down Harry's spine.

The sounds of brutal battle were relentless as gunshots, various vicious shouts, and the terrible sound of the dying tormented Harry's waking mind.

Shit! Harry thought as he once again flinched at a mighty gunshot and the dull sound of a body hitting the ground.

"YOU BASTARD!" was heard from yet another source, a female.

Just how many of them are there?! Harry thought. Then Harry heard something different. He almost didn't hear it, being effectively muffled by the sounds of the vicious battle. He couldn't describe it but he instantly knew what it was.

The glass door!

Carefully Harry leaned his head out of his cover and saw the silhouette of a bulky man, a long weapon in both of his hands.

The man was treading carefully across the room, trying to preserve the element of surprise. "I got you now, you motherfucking mongrel." The man gruffly muttered.

Fuck. Was Harry's only thought racing through his mind. Desperately, Harry thought of what he should do. He held no sympathy for the smuggler but could he let him die while he did nothing? Could he let another human die when he could have prevented it? Could he be a coward?

But would he be coward if he'd just do what the smuggler had told him? Forcing the questions out of his mind, Harry gave a low growl before as sneaked silently as possible across the room towards the enemy.

The man was standing nearly two meters in height and that was all Harry could make out of the man. The darkness stole away every single human feature, making him much more menacing.

Harry leaned against the wall, the sounds of battle evaporating ever so steadily. The man was reaching the crumbled sofa as he tried to get into a better spot for an ambush. Searching for a weapon, Harry grasped a broken table leg before creeping towards the intimidating man. Stray gunshots rang through the air as Harry was almost directly behind the vicious man.

Suddenly everything was silent just as Harry stepped upon a broken shard of glass. Harry's eyes widened as he cursed silently to himself.

Why now? Why is it just my damned luck!

"What the hell!?" Yelled the man as he whipped around at the source of the disturbance, and his eyes fell on a young teenager with a table leg in his right hand.

Well arse.

"HERE'S ANOTHER ONE! IN THE HOUSE!" The man yelled at the top of his lungs before lunging himself at Harry, while swinging his long, steely weapon.

Thanks to his Seeker reflexes Harry ducked the under swing and nimbly rolled over his right, crashing against the wall.

The man growled dangerously before discarding the weapon and throwing a punch aiming at Harry's ribs. Due to the darkness the punch came in too short but the Hunter used his momentum and pummeled Harry's shoulder into the stone wall.

The back of Harry's head hit the wall hard, almost knocking him out. Stars shone across Harry's vision as the man jammed his large shoulder into his chest, taking away his breath.

In one surprisingly agile motion he grabbed Harry by the throat with both of his hands and lifted him high up above the ground. "YOU FUCKING DOG! FUCKING BASTARD, I'LL ENJOY RIPPING YOU APART, YOU DAMN MONGREL!" The man roared maniacally, his spit flying against Harry's face.

Dimly Harry heard the sounds of gunfire restarting again and weird continuous clicking noise.

Harry's vision narrowed into a tunnel as it began to darken and his consciousness was slowly slipping away. He arms flailed around aimlessly, grasping at the face of his assailant.

"JUST DIE!"

Harry felt his strength slipping away and memories of the past shot through his mind's eye. His legs quivered uncontrollably and his hands were slowly drifting to his sides. It was then when a realization hit Harry with the force of a sledgehammer.

I don't want to die! Man's most primal fear haunted Harry's dying body as he felt adrenaline surge through his system in one last-ditch attempt to save his own life.

The self-preservation drive is the most magnificent and disturbing unknown in our psychology and that's what was now driving Harry.

New strength filled his limbs as he redoubled his efforts, clasping his hands onto his assailant's face. The Hunter growled indignantly and hammered Harry's body against the wall. Once again Harry felt how his strength was leaving him, his heart pounding against his chest almost a hundred miles an hour.

His right hand fumbled across the man's face, trying to find a place that would severely wound him. Then Harry felt a soft spot within the man's steely facial muscles. Without hesitating Harry pushed his thumb into soft, wobbly area of the man and was rewarded with unbelievable howl of pain. The man abruptly let go of Harry, who fell to the ground coughing and gasping for breath.

"MY EYE! YOU STUPID FUCKER!" Hoarsely yelled the man as he stumbled on both of his legs and kicked Harry in his stomach. Both opponents were completely oblivious to any noises of the outside battle. It was only the two of them. A fight over life and death. And both opponents were eager to survive this engagement.

Harry doubled over and coughed loudly as the man's foot connected with his stomach. Forcing his eyes open, Harry saw the large bottom of his assailants shoe raised high above his head. Instinctively Harry knew that this blow would be fatal. Nimbly Harry dodged the fatal kick and grasped the left foot of the man tightly between both of his hands. With one swift movement Harry twisted the foot as far against its own accord as he could.

He could basically hear the bone shattering in two as the foot twisted backwards. The man's body shook in pain and once again the man howled in pain as his body loudly fell upon the ground. Wet tears streamed down the man pained expression as he held his popped eye in one hand and twisted leg in another, curling himself into the fetal position.

But Harry wasn't done. His mind screamed and yelled at him to finish the threat. He was still in danger. This man could still take his life and stop him from reaching his sister.

Numerous emotions burned within Harry as he clumsily grasped the discarded weapon of the man. Weakly he stumbled over to his assailant, who was still convulsing on the ground in sheer pain, half blinded and howling in anguish.

Harry raised his weapon over the head of the unarmed man. He would not die here. Not in this hell hole. Not in some abandoned and rotting home. He would not die here.

With a mighty war cry Harry brought the blunt weapon down upon the head of the man with all his might. A sickening crack was audible and the man twitched uncontrollably. But Harry swung again and again.

Every time the blunt weapon impacted the unprotected head of the man. After the fourth blow the skull popped open and disgusting, wet fluid splattered across the ground, the weapon, and Harry's face.

Then Harry stopped. Dizziness clouded his senses and Harry stood on wobbly legs, numbly hearing the panicked cries, feral hungry screeches, and clicking noises. They weren't even processed by his mind as he stumbled across the living room and stepped outside the house. His ears were ringing and bile rose within in his throat. He felt sick. Most importantly he just felt tried.

Harry didn't feel how he was practically pulled by his arm and rushed down the small suburban street.

Harry didn't notice the hungry howls and blood screeching yells of creatures awakened from man's most darkest nightmare.

His mind was in a whirlwind, his body robotically following an unknown order. Soon his vision began to blacken as his legs seemed to give out. Stumbling, Harry was literally thrown forward and fell face first to the ground.

He heard a door smash shut, a clicking noise and ragged breathing. Then everything was silent and Harry closed his eyes.


I apologise for the long wait folks I didn't want to dissappoint you my dear readers. This story is very dear to my heart and I wanted to make this chapter and story perfect and enjoyable. Great thanks to my Beta reader BlueSky509 go check his works he is writing some his stories. Hope you enjoyed this chapter please leave a review let me know what you think I love to communicate with my readers.