An: I have returned with a long chapter! It's filled with action, suspense, romance, humor, horror, and heartache! Hopefully y'all enjoy it!

R&R

Things are gonna get real good right now. Be prepared for violence.

Chapter 4—The Boogeymen are coming

The absence of the undead was nothing short of bizarre. It hovered over the survivors like a lingering fog; Chuck kept expecting to see one limping in the middle of the road, groaning in its frenzied state. Chuck felt it was peculiar to see a once thriving city so desolate, trampled to ruins by sickness and death. Such emptiness was disheartening. The silence that had replaced the constant whizzing of cars speeding down the highway, and the lively chatter of the people, created an eerie atmosphere neither Chuck, Sarah, nor even Casey could ignore.

Rusted cars littered the streets of Los Angeles. A cold draft breezed by; trash drifted on the concrete, likening it to a tumbleweed in an old western film. As they traveled further down the abandoned road, Chuck observed that the various shops and buildings were defiled with graffiti. Messages scrawled upon the walls read foreboding warnings that seized that heart with dread.

He was sure that nothing but action would assuage his growing fear. It would take his mind off of the present momentarily so that he could focus on survival rather than what would happen once he smelt the terrifyingly intoxicating scent of blood. So his mind did not wander far. Chuck busied himself by humming off-key to a song. It invoked happy memories, of a pleasant life filled with marriage, love, and a bright future.

Chuck thought he saw Sarah acknowledge the familiar melody. She seemed to have faltered while in midst of her tireless walk. Her head then bowed down in an almost ashamed manner; her feet picking back up to its original speed. The tune died on his lips, him keeping an eye the back of Sarah's head.

Words were spoken several minutes later. It had been almost an hour of complete silence and Chuck could not take it anymore.

"Doesn't anyone find it sort of odd that we are not for once"—He began by lowering his voice when he swore he heard something rustle in a nearby alley—"being chased by a bunch of flesh-eating zombies? It's weird, isn't it? I think it is, Sarah, Casey, thoughts please? I'd like to know that I'm not the only one freaking out over here."

"Trust me, you're the only one," said Casey.

"Are you kidding me," asked Chuck, surprised. "You haven't realized that we should be running for our lives right now?"

They were approaching the end of the street. Turning the corner, the three of them instinctively raised their guns. All let out a collective sigh when they were confronted with nothing but another long winding road.

"I personally take this as a good sign of fortune," Casey said gruffly. "We've been driven up and down this damn city for the past week. It's about time that we have a break."

"Yeah, but I seriously doubt that zombies will mind whether we should be allowed a break or not," was Chuck's sarcastic response. "You know they're just waiting in the shadows for the perfect time to attack."

Sarah shrugged the backpack further up her shoulders and pressed on. She tried to keep herself from expressing any amusement while the two men bantered back and forth. She kept her eyes on the road ahead, but a smile tugged on the corners of her lips.

"Have you even seen a zombie flick before?" continued Chuck, when Casey looked beyond annoyed.

"No, Bartowski. Luckily I've been able to avoid B-rated trash like that, because I'm not—"

"—A Nerd like me, I get it," finished Chuck dryly. "But I'm telling you that we are going to get ambushed. And when it does happen, I'll say I'll told you so."

Casey stopped at the next intersection. Sarah came to gradual halt and then gave Chuck a pitying glance followed by a tight-lipped smile. This was their unspoken communication that had Chuck realize his mistake for instigating John Casey while on an empty road with nothing to main or kill for miles.

The Colonel spun around and faced Chuck. He leaned in close until they were almost nose-to-nose. Hidden behind his hoodie, Chuck looked very uncomfortable.

"This is not some movie, Chuck. This is real life. And these things are not your average zombies. They are sick people with homicidal tendencies, which I'm sure you're aware of." His piercing gaze dropped to the wound covered by Chuck's jacket. Chuck narrowed his eyes in reproach but would not speak. "I thought the Intersect would've informed you that the disease doesn't allow them to be exposed to sunlight."

Chuck stuffed his hands into his pockets and gritted his teeth. "They aren't vampires, Casey. They are smarter than you give them credit for. You're wrong, and you'll see why soon."

Sarah watched with sad eyes as the two men disbanded in hostile silence. They resumed their travels down the endless road, keeping a wide berth with Sarah in the middle so that not another outburst would occur.

Chuck's prediction came true within hours. Shortly before the rally point, he had unwittingly detached himself from the others when a nasty wave of nausea swept over him. He held his stomach in both hands when he felt it churn and flip on its own accord. He had given a cry of pain: His blood boiled as something flashed across his mind like a snake coiled and ready to strike. He saw veil of red in his vision and felt a fury that was not his own pound through is body, violent and brief as an electric shock.

"Chuck what's wrong?" Sarah asked, advancing on him. "Are you feeling sick again?"

"No, I'm fine—a little nauseas though—"

"We need to sit him down," said Casey loudly. "I'll get some water."

"No, it's ok, honestly—it's not that bad—"

Chuck felt badgered, confused and Sarah did not help as she said in a worried voice, "You're sick, Chuck. Stop trying to act like it's not that bad. It is that bad. All we want is to help you…"

"I know," muttered Chuck; his head was throbbing, which made it hard to concentrate. "B—but we need to just forget about my condition for once, it's more important that we find a way back home—"

"But you're condition is important to me!" said Sarah shrilly. "I want to make sure that when we do find a way home, that you're there with me and alive!"

Chuck heard Casey agree. He could not fight the pain much longer. He had to succumb.

"Gonna throw up," he muttered, and he turned his back on Sarah and Casey, flipping the hoodie off of his head so he could breathe. He took off down the street as fast as he could without running, staggering his last few steps.

Chuck did not make it: wrapping his trembling hands around his stomach, he fell against the hood of a red BMW and began to puke. He retched and moaned. Grabbing his pounding head as it rested on the car's cool surface. There was an explosion of agony, he felt the rage of the infection possess his soul, and then he howled.

Sarah's voice as she screamed his name was lost on deaf ears. So was Casey, who had been yelling for the both of them to run. The pain in his head had reached his peak, but with a sense of emerging from deep water, Chuck drew heaving breaths and opened his eyes.

"Chuck, here, let me help you up."

He felt warm hands bring him upright. His palms were planted weakly on the hood of the car; bile slipped from his lips and his scarlet eyes sunk deeper into their sockets. He was dizzy and he groaned again.

"There you go, just let it all out," Sarah said, fighting to keep her voice casual as she lifted Chuck away from the car. She was rubbing his back in circular ministrations.

Chuck lifted his head slowly once regaining some of his strength. He used the backside of his hand to wipe away the remnants of vomit from his quivering lips. He was about to turn and meet Sarah with a weak smile, but froze in place, paralyzed.

"Run," he whispered under his breath.

Fingers were threading through his matted hair. He paid no attention to this. His paralysis thawed and he scrambled into alertness. He leveled a shaky finger and Sarah's enrapt gaze followed it curiously.

"Sarah! Run, now!"

Everything seemed fuzzy, slow. Chuck and Sarah jumped into ready stances and drew their weapons in tandem. Casey was already armed and beckoning them towards him. They were only just realizing that something terrible had happened; two pairs of frazzled eyes were still preoccupied on what lay in the street ahead. Silence spread outward in cold ripples from when Chuck had shouted. Then something inhuman emitted a loud piercing scream.

Chuck and Sarah threw themselves out of the street. The Infected were sprinting in all directions; many were crawling on the walls; the city was roaring with blood curdling shrieks.

"Casey!" Sarah cried. "Casey, where's the rally point?"

As they pushed their way down the sidewalk, Chuck saw the hooded figures jumping across the rooftops; then he saw a hunchback looking thing fall from the sky, cackling hysterically as it landed on his back—

"Sarah! Sarah! Oh shit, get it off of me!" Chuck called, being steered against his will into the incoming horde. Sarah and Casey were buffeted by the infected: Chuck reached with both hands in attempt to rip whatever was riding him, off his shoulders. An onslaught of bullets whizzed over his head and then the weight had suddenly been lifted.

Was that thing humping me? Chuck's mind screamed.

And then Sarah was there. She caught hold of Chuck's free arm, pulling him in the opposite direction of the horde. He caught a quick glimpse of what had attacked him. It had been disfigured by a gunshot wound to the head; its face was a bubbling mess of blood and bone. He felt his eyes go cross-eyed when the Intersect took over.

The flash told him everything he needed to know about that creepy little leaper.

"What was that thing?" said Casey's voice. He had come back to assist his team from the horde.

"It's called a Jockey," panted Chuck. "They try to latch on your back and lead you to your death…"

"Well its dead now," Sarah spoke up. She was clutching the M60 tight to her chest. "Let's keep running before something much worse tries to kill us."

Chuck did as she asked. They sprinted up the wide street thronged with infected at every turn. The sun was shining brightly above them. Chuck grimaced when the rays touched his face, his eyes no longer stinging as they used to, but were still wildly sensitive. He threw the hood up over his face; he ditched the Uzi for two Glocks and continued running alongside Sarah and Casey.

"Remember when I said I was going to say I told you so?"

Casey grunted and swung his assault rifle, hitting an infected human square in the jaw. He gave Chuck a quick sidelong glance.

"Not now, Bartowski."

"Well here it is anyway: I told you so!" Chuck shouted at him, as Sarah gunned down several hostiles all at once. She suppressed a badly timed smile from taking over her features.

Red overwhelmed Casey's face and he steamrolled through the next batch of infected. Chuck and Sarah followed amusedly, listening as the former NSA spy was cursing under his breath. They bolted off the curb around a four-way intersection, dodging assorted vehicles when the infected came in droves.

"Aw crap, look what's following us!" Chuck announced suddenly.

Sarah was busy reloading her weapon; slammed the cartridge into the M60 and then looked over her shoulder. An obese zombie, covered in boils was tottering in their direction. The thing belched and gurgled. Sarah blanched.

"I hate Boomers," she replied.

"Right, so let's just outrun the stupid thing!" Casey interjected. He blew the top of an infected's head clean off.

She shook her head in defiance. Sliding her feet to a rough halt, she took her gun and angled it horizontally. When the Boomer came within a foot of her, Sarah's lips twisted into a smirk.

She slammed the gun into the thing's gut and it sprang back, confounded. In its daze, it leaned back and was prepared to spew its tainted vomit. But Sarah picked up running again and called to Chuck.

"Let him have it!"

Chuck grinned and aimed the barrel of the Glock over his head and fired blindly. Sarah was now a safe distance away from the zombie and was able to successfully catch back up to her team.

If one was curious as to how a Boomer earned its namesake, this would be a sufficient answer.

A single bullet struck it in the stomach and it exploded like a bomb filled with blood and green bile. It showered over the streets, for the infected to feed greedily. Not Chuck, Sarah, or Casey stopped to see what had happened.

Sarah said, "Nice shot."

Chuck nodded with a grin. He led them down a side street, then into the shelter of a shadowy alleyway.

"Well that was fun," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He looked down at his guns and then frowned, "Great. I have one round left."

"We need to find some guns then," suggested Casey. He appeared jubilant.

Sarah, on the other hand, was looking at Chuck. She was studying him carefully.

"What?" He asked dumbly.

"How are you doing?"

He shrugged.

"Better, I guess."

Sarah rummaged in her bag and pulled out a syringe filled with a sickly green fluid. She handed it to Chuck who took it awkwardly.

"Use this," she instructed with a nod of her head. "The adrenaline shot should last until we're rescued."

"You're amazing," said Chuck, sticking the needle into his arm with a grimace.

"Thank you," said Sarah, managing a small smile as she readjusted her bag. "Casey, do you see anywhere we could go that could have some weapons?"

Casey dug his hand in his backpack and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He put them up to his eyes and scoped out the area. He was looking through them for awhile. Chuck was leaning against the brick wall, watching the man thoughtfully.

"What do you see there, big guy?"

"Nothing so far," grunted Casey. "There are a few shops that look like they've been ransacked, a restaurant or two, and an apartment building not too far off that is around ten levels high."

"So, what's the game plan then? We make a break for the apartments and hope that the helicopter can land on the roof?"

"Pretty much," Casey answered and dropped the binoculars. Chuck was staring at the burly man with a shocked expression.

"He's right," said Sarah, who seemed to know that Chuck was about to argue, even though she could not see his face in its entirety from within his hoodie. "We need to try and get to the apartment complex. It's our only hope, really."

Chuck nodded and said, "Yeah." But he remembered that he was low on ammo, and fear bubbled like acid in his stomach.

"Come on, I think we should keep moving," said Sarah.

They moved back up the side street and onto the main road again, where a group of infected humans on the opposite side was tearing apart an old corpse.

"Look, isn't that Kiriko, the sushi place?" Chuck asked Sarah.

"Yes, why, is there some significance to it?"

"Not really," said Chuck, looking around, "I just heard it was one of the best Japanese restaurants in LA. I was thinking about taking you there at some point."

Sarah looked down and away, her face flushed scarlet. Casey merely rolled his eyes and muttered, "Idiots."

"Maybe we should go in there?" said Chuck, cringing as the infected on the other side of the road started getting violent. "There could be some stuff we can use, knives, pans, ninja stars…"

"Fine, let's go," Sarah said hastily as Casey opened his mouth to say something not so nice to Chuck. "It's right next to the apartment, so it's not out of our way."

It was a large shabby restaurant. At one point, long before the Infection had spread to West Los Angeles, Chuck imagined that it was once a hot spot for all the Angelinos in the city. He was considering taking Sarah there for a date. But things didn't work out so well and they had entered through the side doors on entirely different circumstances than he liked.

It was just another thing that the Green Flu had ruined for him.

Casey slipped into the door first and Chuck came next, followed by Sarah, who had her back to the entrance and did not like it; she glanced over her shoulder so frequently she appeared to have a twitch. Chuck did not like being low on ammunition; weird because he did not have an affinity for guns in general, but only felt truly safe when he was armed. Under the influence of the adrenaline shot he felt his nervousness shift into anxiousness. The red film over his eyes grew more pronounced and drenched his vision in crimson. He pulled his flashlight out of his waistband and switched it on. It illuminated the interior of the restaurant in a soft unnoticeable glow. It was enough, however, to distinguish what lay inside.

After a minute or two, Casey said, "This better had been worth it, Bartowski. We should've just gone next door—"

"Casey, quiet!" said Sarah at once.

They relapsed into a prickly silence. All ears perked up, intent on listening in for anything out of the ordinary. Chuck closed his eyes and waited, rocking on the soles of his feet as we waited. Then, there it was.

Coughing.

It happened again, but came out more like a wheeze.

"Smoker…" the three said in unison.

"Where is it?"

"Don't know, but it's definitely somewhere in the restaurant."

"Why did we listen to you again?"

"Right, because this is my fault. How was I supposed to know that—?"

"Shush!"

The two men looked away from each other to face Sarah. She had a finger pressed to her lips. The survivors exchanged glances and then crouched to the floor. The Smoker was getting closer. It had begun to hack and black smoke sifted into the room they were in. Chuck covered his mouth with his hands to suppress a cough.

Don't cough, don't cough, please don't cough! He pleaded with himself.

Slow, heavy footsteps echoed in the restaurant. The floorboard creaked with each drag of the foot. The survivors kept quiet until the footsteps faded. Then Sarah poked her head from over the sushi counter; the room was pitch-black. She sighed and sat back down.

"I think it's gone."

"Are you sure?" Casey whispered.

She nodded, not so confident. She drew her pistol and then signaled for her to check again. She rose to her feet and Chuck watched with uneasy eyes. His gaze drifted slightly when he pointed the flashlight to the counter. A slow smile made his way over his face; his face taking on a familiar expression.

"—I was right, there's nothing here." Sarah spoke in a low voice. "We should get out of here before it comes…" She never got a chance to finish that sentence.

A long black tongue shot out of the darkness and wrapped itself around her neck. It squeezed her throat, crushing her windpipe so that she had trouble screaming for help. She dropped her gun and it clattered to the ground; fingers dug into the slippery appendage until she started to feel it pull her over the countertop.

Just when she thought she was doomed, Sarah heard the unreal sound of something sharp being unsheathed. Steel met the tongue with full force and Sarah could breathe again. The tongue fell off her neck and slipped to the floor. The Smoker made an angered cry and Sarah picked up her pistol and fired a full round into the black.

There was a loud thump and Sarah knew that the Smoker was dead. She turned her head and in the dim light, she saw Chuck was kneeling on the countertop, a new weapon clutched in both hands.

"Is that what I think it is?" She asked, astonished.

Chuck twirled the sword in his hand expertly and then slipped it through one of his pant's belt loops. It was bright enough to see that Chuck was looking smug.

"If you mean you think it's a katana, then you are absolutely correct," he replied.

Casey was now holding the flashlight, pointing it at Chuck and Sarah. He sounded just as surprised as Sarah, but with a hint of jealousy. "Where the hell did you find that?"

Chuck climbed off the counter, "It was hanging on the wall. Gotta love the Japanese, they're always prepared for the next horrible disaster."

The flash had left Chuck and so had the adrenaline. He felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. He buckled against the counter and groaned. Sarah scrambled off the counter and fell by Chuck's side. She was digging into her bag to find the last syringe.

"I thought it was supposed to last longer than twenty minutes!" Casey huffed.

Sarah's face was outlined with worry. Her hand was shaking. "It was…the infection must be getting worse."

"Sarah…."

She looked down and saw Chuck. His mouth was half-parted and his breathing was ragged. His eyelids were sagging shut and had that sunken in look. Her chest panged.

"Yes, Chuck," she strained a difficult whisper, "talk to me."

"We need to go home…" he mumbled dreamily.

Sarah nodded vigorously. "We will, Chuck, I promise." She steadied her hand and jabbed the last syringe into Chuck's arm. His head lolled back and he hissed.

"Hate…those…things…"

Sarah looked to Casey, who was looking worried. They both reached and took Chuck by either side and hoisted him to his feet. He stumbled in the dark until the medicine started to work into his system. Then he regained some balance and gave them a reassuring glance.

"Don't freak out guys," he inhaled a deep laboring breath. "We're going to get out of here alive."

"Everyone be quiet, I think I heard crying!"

It did not take long for them to reach the apartments. It was another building filled with a dense cloud of darkness. Sarah cared little about this. She was more concerned over Chuck's health than anything. But once she heard the sound of a woman sobbing, her breath went still. And so did everyone else's.

"Not a Witch," Chuck muttered nervously. He was still living in a daze. He continued to ramble, "Not a Witch, not a Witch."

But everyone knew it was a Witch. The tell-tale sign was the loud, unbearable shrieking that emitted from this poor zombie. When Chuck had flashed on her, the night of their escape from Burbank six months earlier, he had relayed to everyone that she was extremely lethal. She would sit in a dark corner, sobbing until someone was careless enough to startle her.

Then all hell would break loose.

Sarah felt tears of her own swim in her eyes. Their first confrontation with the Witch was not a good one. That was when Devon Woodcomb made his greatest sacrifice for his pregnant wife, Ellie. He saved her life and in the process, had been killed. Chuck was present when it happened. They all were. But it did not affect anyone nearly as much as it did to Chuck. She remembered there was so much blood. Devon went down first and then Chuck… he almost did not make himself.

He has the scars to prove it too, Sarah mused sadly.

"We need a good distraction," Casey's voice brought her back to the present.

Sarah blinked, "Like what? Use one of us as bait?"

"No," he shook his head. "Maybe we can create some noise and get her riled up. Then she'll go after wherever the noise is being made and we can get up the stairs since the elevator is obviously not working."

Sarah looked across the lobby and saw that the Witch was indeed blocking the stairway. She frowned at their terrible luck. Straightening up, she offered a quick glance at both men. Casey look determined while Chuck…was traumatized.

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed at last. She rested a hand on Chuck's shoulder. He flinched, but continued to stare at the stairway. "Are you up for it, Chuck?"

"As long as we don't startle her," he said in a hollow tone. "It doesn't matter."

"Good," Casey interjected. He stood up on his feet and then cocked back his rifle He aimed it on the other side of the lobby. There was a mirror and a few vases placed on the tables. Squinting one eye closed, he advised: "Once I start shooting, we run like there's no tomorrow. Got that?"

He did not wait for a response. Casey squeezed the trigger multiple times and then they took off.

The Witch had stopped crying. It was now snarling in miserable rage. By now it should've been standing up, its wicked claws unsheathed, and her orange eyes glowing angrily. She sucked in air and screamed like a wounded animal.

Fortunate for Team Bartowski, they had already reached the door before the Witch knew what was going on. She let out another terrible screech and dashed for the survivors. Casey was at the door first. He flung it open and urged Chuck, and then Sarah inside. Once they were safe, he slammed the door closed. Long claw marks were slashed across the steel door's frame. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was a close call," he grunted, pleased. He turned his head to see Sarah standing a few stairs ahead of him. She was holding Chuck by one arm, making sure he wasn't going to run off or fall down the first floor.

"We need to hurry," her voice had a desperate edge to it.

Casey's eyes trailed to Chuck. His hood had fallen off yet again, allowing him to see what had become of his former asset, partner, and friend. Both eyes were scarlet red. His face had a sallow color, like the yellowish tinge has faded and now was replaced by a grey shade. It seemed that his skin was now an ashy color. He appeared to be his normal albeit, strange self, but Casey was waiting for when Chuck would finally snap and go mad.

With nothing else to say, Casey nodded. "Let's go."

Ten flights of stairs later and they had made it to the fire escape. Sarah used the butt of her gun to wrench the door ajar. Casey was holding Chuck by the scruff of his neck, making sure he wasn't going to pass out. Her back to the wall, Sarah looked to her partner with weary eyes.

"Call them," she said.

He released Chuck from his hold, watching as he stumbled clumsily over to Sarah, drawing the katana, almost dropping it in the process. Casey sighed and then found the walkie-talkie in his bag. He fiddled with the dials until he got a signal.

-this is Colonel John Casey, I am requesting for our pre-negotiated pick-up. I am with my team: Agents Sarah Walker and Chuck Bartowski of the CIA. We have made it to the rally point. I repeat: we have made it to the rally point. We are waiting for rescue. Over—

"They're not going to give me a second glance Sarah," Chuck whispered to her while Casey was busy communicating with the US military. Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Once they see what happened to me, they're gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"Don't say that!" She hissed.

"Why not, it's true. I'm a liability."

"Chuck, you're a valuable asset to the nation," she protested. "Not only are you the Intersect, but we can possibly find a cure by using your blood. They won't kill you."

Chuck pressed his cracked lips together and said nothing more. He nodded stiffly.

-Yes, Captain Reynolds. We are ready for you to land; we'll be able to get in and out in minutes if need be. But, we also have a bit of a problem. Agent Bartowski was injured during our mission. Bit and infected, we don't know how much time he has left…but we need him alive. Do you understand me?—

Casey grunted and stashed the walkie-talkie away. He gave Sarah a look and nodded gruffly.

"They're ready for us," he said.

Without another word, Sarah pushed the door open and walked onto the building's rooftop. Not much happened at first, everything was completely silent. So much so that Sarah felt herself shudder.

Then with the helicopter in sight, a terrible roar erupted. The whole building shook. Chuck held the katana in his shaking hands, willing himself to flash one last time. He closed his eyes and whimpered in agony.

"A Tank's coming…"

Both Sarah and Casey faced Chuck. Before either of them could open their mouths to respond, a flood of infected came tumbling through the fire escape. They shrieked, hissed and groaned, clawing at the survivors.

Sarah was having no trouble shooting them. Casey was holding up fine as well. He already was nearing the edge of the rooftop, pulling out an unlit Molotov, preparing for the Tank's inevitable entrance. Chuck had finally flashed. He was weakened by his sickness but it did not stop him. He was slashing away with the sword. The Intersect gave him the strength and swiftness of a master swordsmen; he sliced through several infected, their head's sliding off their necks and falling to the ground.

Sarah chanced a glance to see how he was fairing and saw that his eyes were burning a deep, bloodthirsty red. A vacant look, one she had hoped to never see since the Laudronel incident, appeared on his face as he continued the slaughter.

"Chuck, I need your lighter! Hand it over!" Casey shouted, breaking Sarah from this disturbing sight.

Chuck stabbed a zombie in the stomach and ran the blade up its writhing body until it had split down the middle. The mindless joy that all the death was bringing him was sickening. Sarah saw that he wasn't paying attention to Casey and she raced towards Chuck's direction.

"Give me the lighter, Chuck!" She said urgently. Her heart was running away like a rail train in her chest.

Chuck was heaving deep breaths, exhaling out of his nose as it flared up again. He wasn't concentrating, he was barely even there. The infection had seized his body and claimed his soul. She knew he wasn't completely turned yet. There was still hope left.

"Chuck!" She repeated, louder.

He faltered slightly, his crimson eyes becoming wildly self-aware. He dropped the sword to the ground and looked at her, at first confused, but then realizing what was happening, fear materialized onto his face.

"Sarah…" he croaked.

She wanted to comfort him, but had no time. Wordlessly, she grabbed the lighter from his pocket and raced to Casey, leaving a hurt Chuck behind to defend for himself. The helicopter was approaching. The sound of the propellers became loud as it neared its destination. Sarah was a foot away by then; tossed the lighter and Casey caught it, lit the bottle and was ready to throw it at the entrance—

A black blur raced by. It emitted its atrocious call and within seconds, Casey had been pinned to the ground by powerful claws. He let out a pain grow when one of the nails dug into his chest, trying to tear away his clothes to find the meat underneath. The Molotov fell out of his hand and rolled down the rooftop until it went to a slow stop.

"Get this thing off of me!"

Sarah raised her M60 quickly and fired a hail of gunfire. The Hunter shrieked and fell off of Casey's stomach, dead. Casey bounded to his feet, wiping the blood spray off of his face. He narrowed his eyes at the lifeless corpse.

He spat, "Scrawny little bitch!"

"You're welcome," said Sarah with the roll of her eyes.

The helicopter's choppers spun rapidly. It picked up a gust of wind, almost sending Sarah to the ground. Her hair whipped around her face; watching as soldiers appeared on either side of the copter, guns drawn and firing at the infected from above.

It rained bullets. Tearing through the infected with ease, they were annihilated into red mist. Both Sarah and Casey looked up, waving their hands to signal the aircraft to land.

"Thank god for the US military," Casey sighed gratefully.

Sarah nodded and there was another roar. The apartment rattled; pieces of concrete were turned to debris. A foreboding sensation gripped her stomach and would not let go. She almost forgot about him.

"Chuck!"

The helicopter touched down. Soldiers were filing out of the open doors, creating a perimeter around the rooftop. Chuck was standing over by the fire escape. He was slouched and barely breathing steady. Sarah was intent on running for him, her arms outstretched. She did not count, however, for Chuck to whip out his handgun and fire his last few shots at the Molotov, not too far away.

Sarah jumped back when half of the rooftop was lit aflame. She felt the flames singe her clothes from being too close. She stared through the fire and saw Chuck on the other side. There was no way to get to him.

There was nothing to say. Her throat was swollen shut by the smoke. Her eyes stung with tears. Why did he do this to her?

The building continued to quake relentlessly. Time was suspended for Sarah and Chuck. They were lost in each other's eyes. It felt like it was the end. Sarah wondered if this was the last time she would see his face.

The flames licked the rooftop and spread further, creating a greater distance between them. Chuck looked at her for a moment, and then he spoke at last.

"Sarah, I love you—"

A meaty arm flung Chuck into the air, and he landed yards from where he stood. His back hit the fire escape's wall with a resounding crash. Chuck slumped against the building, barely conscious. Sarah watched this unravel without the ability to intervene. The fire roared. She screamed.

"Chuck, no! Please get up! Somebody help him!"

But it was too late. Casey grabbed her around the waist, holding her back from the flames. The soldiers surrounded them in a protective shield. They were shooting the Tank until it gave one final roar and collapsed into heap.

Sarah was struggling for freedom until the very end. She twisted and pushed against Casey, but it was useless. Two more soldiers latched onto her and she was dragged forcefully to the copter.

She begged to Casey, "Please, we need to go back! Chuck isn't dead, the flames are dying! We can't leave him! Chuck!"

"There's another horde approaching," a soldier informed Casey. "They must've been attracted to the noise."

Casey nodded. He turned Sarah roughly to him and said, "Sarah, I'm sorry about Chuck, but we can't help him. He wanted you to live, and we shouldn't let his sacrifice be in vain."

She stared at him with betrayed eyes. Her body went numb, this couldn't be happening. Looking over Casey's shoulder, she saw Chuck. He was still alive. His eyes were half-hooded and he was bleeding very badly, but he was still…still alive.

"Chuck…no…." she was sobbing helplessly now.

"I'm sorry," Casey repeated again. It sounded sincere but she did not care. She was concentrating on Chuck, nothing else mattered. She did not feel him pick her up and set her down in the helicopter. Nor did she realize that the soldiers were piling in; the propellers were spinning like crazy as the aircraft began to lift into the air.

All she felt was the pain of losing a piece of herself.

Sarah promised she would never abandon him.

She had left Chuck behind.

"Sarah, I love you—"

It would haunt her dreams forever.

End of Part I

An: So? How did I do? Please for the love of Zachary Levi and all things that are holy (like Zachary Levi & Yvonne Strahovski) REVIEW! I really like them!