Now that I spilled the beans, I hope things make more sense now, or at least a lot of it. Everything I said to Havana was true, I wanted to rebuild humanity. But before you can rebuild, it must be destroyed, further than it already has. Which means our -humanities- most iconic city, must be eliminated. Other than it being well known, I chose it because it's on an island, perfect for defense against zombies and small enough to rebuild, but big enough to support a large community. Do you see where I'm going with this? But enough talk about the future, back to the task at hand. It was strange being in a car without Amarillo, I mean, she was with me from basically the start. I know it sounds weird but, it was like being away from your parents for the first time without her, in a way. I knew that I needed to find her for the sake of my mission. . . I just hope I could get some answers as well. . . Preferably with fewer punches to the face.

After refueling in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Brooklyn and Havana continued to search the interstate for any signs of the missing SUV that held the nuclear device. The chances that the vehicle traveled this way were slim to none, but sitting around doing nothing wasn't going to help. Brooklyn took the wheel this round, having slept, or tried to sleep, most of the way through the state. It took some getting used to, sitting behind the wheel of such a powerful machine. Being quite intimidated he took it slow, feeling that one false move will lead to explosions and large flames, followed by painful death sequences.

"How is it? Fun right?" Havana smirked in amusement as she leaned back in her seat.

"I don't know if I trust your idea of fun anymore." Brooklyn frowned nervously.

"Come on, it wasn't that nerve wracking. A little bit of that is good for you."

"A little bit of that leads to severe mental trauma, that's what that is good for."

"I don't believe this, you can survive a zombie apocalypse but can't ride in a car that goes fast without wetting yourself."

Brooklyn shrugged and continued driving. It was another cold sunny day in the beautiful nation of Zombieland. The all too common drudgery of staring at brown landscapes came back into view. The sun beamed its white light through the windshield, heating Brooklyn's pants to uncomfortable levels. He shifted to escape the unpleasant feeling but to no avail. The all too pesky source of all energy shot bright rays into the kid's eyes. He squinted trying to avoid the visual impairment.

"Hey Brooklyn, look." Havana tilted her head to the left shoulder of the road. "Looks like our luck finally turned around."

"What? What is it?" Brooklyn leaned his head side to side as if the blinding light was someone's hand in front of him "No way." He gasped, catching a glimpse of the sight.

It was the black Suburban they were searching for, pulled over. It had it's doors open with cloths hanging from them. Brooklyn steered the Chevelle to the side of the road and jumped out of the front seat. He pulled the pistol from his leg and aimed it down range at the seemingly abandoned vehicle. He stepped closer, the caution within him grew with each passing inch. Finally he leaned next to the right backseat door. Brooklyn carefully grabbed the fabric from the window with his left hand and pulled. As the veil fell from the open window he peered into the SUV. No one was inside. A woozy feeling washed over Brooklyn as he noticed everything he, Havana, and Amarillo collected still in the car, minus a few bags of food. It was like seeing home again for the first time after leaving it for years. This vehicle practically was his home, sleeping in it more times than anywhere else, minus "Optimus Prime" of course. Havana stepped next to the teen, with her handgun at the ready, and looked into the front passenger door.

"Clear." She announced without any variations in her voice.

"Nothing here either. . . Where did they go. . ." Brooklyn whispered as he followed the lining of the car. He stepped to the back and opened the trunk door. His face had a stern look as he examined the contents inside. The nuke and everything was in their original places, but he still looked concerned.

"They must of went in search of a new car." New York guessed.

"I don't know, the hood isn't open." Havana corrected.

Nodding as the mystery grew Brooklyn walked to the left side of the Suburban to look for any clues of the whereabouts of the driver. He eyed the open backseat door and saw a large mark of blood that smeared off the lip of the seat cushion. He stepped closer to the door and spotted another, this time larger, puddle of blood in the middle seat. Judging from the splatter, the drops fell from a substantial height. Then the boy cast his gaze to the ground as he turned around to a large field behind him. The blood drops seemed to trail off through the field, toward a Best Buy store out in the distance.

"Amarillo. . . Oh no." Brooklyn said under his breath as he began to walk after the red dotted line. Havana stepped to Brooklyn's side of the car to watch him head to the electronics store.

"Hey! Where are you going?" She questioned.

"They're in that store" Brooklyn pointed ahead of him "Grab some first aid stuff! Hurry!"

As he said that Havana jogged back to the muscle car, ready to bring it closer to the Best Buy parking lot. Brooklyn ran after the blood drops in a full sprint. He hopped through the waist high grass, bouncing over abnormalities in the topography. The faint sound of wheels peeling out echoed above the kid's head as he charged at the large blue and yellow store. The Chevelle roared down the interstate a few yards before turning into the road leading to the parking lot past the field. Brooklyn tried to put his handgun up a few times, missing the proper angle to drive it in, before he managed to slide it into the holster. He fastened the hoop over the guns handle as he moved his arms in tandem with his pumping leg. With a leap he jumped over the curb separating the grassy field from the firm asphalt. His left foot hit the parking lot ground and his speed picked up dramatically. Havana pulled the muscle car next to Brooklyn within five feet.

"Over there! They're inside the store!" He yelled as he pointed again to the building. The woman nodded and accelerated the car to the front of the store. Brooklyn's heart pounded as he ran, and as he thought of what could have transpired to cause that much bleeding in the SUV. Upon reaching the store front New York dodged the parking Chevelle and ran for the door. Havana jumped out of the muscle car with a bag in hand and bolted for the entrance.


Brooklyn stopped next to the checkout counters and tried to look through the isles. He picked up on the trail of blood once more and followed it. As he walked steadily through the game section Brooklyn watched as the droplets grew in size, from the evidence, the person bleeding slowed in pace on the way in here. Havana walked behind him, her eyes on the blood as well. Brooklyn led them to a crossroad in the aisles. As he quickly turned his head to the left he saw two people hunched over a female who was lying on the ground.

"Oh my god. . . Amarillo!" Brooklyn gasped as he jogged to the group, his voice echoed off the metal ceiling above them. The two men aiding the girl looked up with surprise as these unknown strangers approached them.

"Don't worry, we're here to help. What happened?!" The boy questioned.

"I-I don't know! She just, just started bleeding everywhere!" The younger male exclaimed.

"Ok, step aside, let us handle this." As Brooklyn declared he and his partner's role the two men moved aside. Havana knelt next to Amarillo's left shoulder, where the blood was coming from, and opened her green pack. Brooklyn crouched on his knee on the girl's right side.

"Amarillo, can you hear me? What happened?" He question, almost like an ordinary paramedic. No words came from the girl's mouth, but her blue-green eyes shot to the source of the questions.

"Brooklyn. . .?" Amber questioned as she stared at him.

"Yes, it's me. Here, hold my hand." He asked. Amarillo lifted her right hand and Brooklyn gently wrapped his fingers around her palm.

"What's it look like?" The older man question.

"It's a gunshot wound. Exactly what I've been trained to handle, so hang on girl." Havana spoke as she grabbed a bottle of disinfectant.

"A gunshot wound!" The questioning male gasped. "When did this happen?!"

"We don't know sir. We're just trying to fix it. Now if you'll give me a second." Havana explained, then she directed her attention to Amarillo "This is going to hurt."

The woman tilted the bottle of disinfectant over the wound.

"Aahha!" Amarillo screamed as her shoulder burned with immense pain. Brooklyn tightened his grasp on the girl's hand as she squeezed it, clenching her teeth.

"Hang in there, it's almost over." The boy reassured Amber as he watched the clear liquid flow out of the wound with a red tint. Some of the antiseptic spilled through the injury to the ground.

"Clear entrance and exit path. At least we don't have to worry about a bullet, this should heal quickly after this is all done. And no tendon damage that I see, you're a lucky one." Havana relayed to the group watching. Finally the woman set aside the bottle of fire and picked up an olive colored bag that was sealed tightly. From the looks of it, it looked like military rations of some sort.

"What is that?" Amarillo question through her pain. Eyeing the unwrapping hands hastily work.

"It's a powder haemostatic agent. In other words it'll seal the wound and help it heal faster." Havana informed as she ripped open the bag and shook it over the sterilized area. Amber winced as the course grain collected in her shoulder.

The patient turned to Brooklyn. The boy looked back, almost seeing the emotions and feelings whirl around in Amarillo's irises. Havana took out a handful of gauze and placed it on both ends of the gunshot wound.

"Brooklyn, can you hold these?" She moved her eyes up from Amarillo's shoulder to the teenager in front of her.

"Sure." The boy brought both of his hands forward and pressed them on the fabric "Like this?"

"Yeah." Havana accepted as she grabbed a roll of sterile gauze. She began wrapping the girl's shoulder, her hands fluent as if they have practiced this hundreds of times over. While she continued to wrap the wound Havana grabbed two metal pin type objects and put them in between her teeth. As the roll unraveled to it's end the woman took one of the small metal fasteners and attached it to the wrapping. The flat piece of metal had four small teeth on it, two on each side. It dug into the fabric and held the end in place, so it wouldn't come undone. After using the second fastener Havana lifted to a crouch.

"Ok, let's get her to her feet." She aimed at Brooklyn.

Wrapping the wounded girl's arm around the back of his neck, Brooklyn prepared to lift Amarillo.

"Alright. Three. . . Two. . ." Havana counted down before lifting. However the woman lifted before her partner.

"Ack!" Amarillo sounded as her shoulder stretched, calling for use of the area around the gunshot.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry!" New York apologized.

"Brooklyn!" Havana scolded.

"You didn't count to one! I was waiting for that!" He explained, but the listener only rolled her eyes.

"Is everything ok?" The father stepped to his daughter's aid.

"Yes everything's going to be fine. She needs some rest though." Havana ordered as she continued her role as medic.

"Ok, we can do that. Evan, can you talk to these kind people while I take your sister somewhere to rest." The father asked.

"Evan, huh?" Brooklyn murmured to himself.

"Actually, let me help you with her, just in case." Havana nodded.

"Ok." The man accepted as Brooklyn drew his shoulder from Amarillo's arm. Her dad quickly filled the boy's place, then the two adults carefully stepped off.


Brooklyn waited for the three to walk a good thirty feet out of view. He moved his jaw side to side before he eyed the space to the left of Evan. He paused and quickly pulled his pistol form his right leg.

"Okay, Evan. I got a question. How's it like to be on the receiving end?" Brooklyn smirked as he leveled the handgun at the teenager's face.

"What do you mean man?!" Evan question in a frightened tone.

"Oh? The back of my head isn't familiar to you?!"

"Wha-what!?"

"Uh, that came out a little weird. . . Ahem. You and your Dad are the two that knocked me and my friend out, back in Amarillo." Brooklyn explained, but his words were only met with a blank stare. He held the pistol at the silent kid. Brooklyn studied his hostage while he waited for an answer. Amarillo's brother had faint remnants of blue dye in his hair, the natural light brown apparent at the roots. He wore black skinny jeans with a metal studded belt while his shirt was plain black, and rather small but still decent for a male to wear. He still looked to be in the high school phase of life. His apparel suggested he still had a brooding mentality, along with a distain look upon public order and society. Before Brooklyn could get a good look at Evan's shoes he felt his hand bend. Then a sharp pain shot through his elbow.

"Ah! Fuck!" Brooklyn yelled as he was flipped over the other teenager. He crashed to the ground on his back, smacking his vision blurry. His mind fogged as he tried to analyze whether he was thrown or flipped over the kid. Then New York shifted his eyes on the teen stripping the gun from his hand. Quickly Brooklyn flipped onto his stomach and slipped his legs under his body. With a burst of strength he lunged at Evan's hand and grabbed the gun. He managed to rip the gun free with relative ease. Holding the tip of the handle he tossed it over several aisles of video games, that way both of them couldn't use it. A swift kick then struck his side. With a grunt Brooklyn sat up against the shelf stacked with more game cases. Evan grabbed him by the collar and lifted him to his feet. A punch struck Brooklyn across the face and he twirled into the shelf from the force. New York leaned into the large object for support but the whole metal structure toppled forward. He rode the falling mass of metal and plastic until it slammed into the ground, the shelf edges jabbing him in the stomach and chest. As it all crashed to the ground he looked up, dazed by the blow that sent him into this position.

"Ugh. I'm getting my ass kicked by an emo kid. . ." Brooklyn groaned as he held onto the shelf edges. Suddenly his opponent grabbed him by the right ankle and dragged him off the wrecked organizer. The kid pushed his right side over with a quick shove of his hand and flipped, facing Evan. Brooklyn slung the M1 Garand off his shoulder and held the barrel like a baseball bat. With a quick swipe the wooden stock struck the other teen in the side of the head. He led go of his hold on Brooklyn and staggered back, holding his face.

New York jumped to his feet and tossed the rifle where his pistol went. He didn't want to kill the guy, and Brooklyn sure as hell didn't want Evan killing him.

"Your turn." Brooklyn smirked as he wiped the blood from his lower lip. He charged Evan, cranking back his right arm. At just the right moment the stunned kid turned his head close to Brooklyn. With that he swung a hard uppercut straight into the face of the teenager. The kid's body leaned up and over from the punch and fell straight on his back.

"Boom! That's how we get it done in the Bronx." Brooklyn grinned at his punch.

"aww. . ." Evan reeled in pain as he held his nose. New York continued to smile at his sudden victory over the somewhat taller teen. As a few seconds past he had a change of heart, his face swapped the cocky grin for a concerned frown. Brooklyn walked to the side of the kid and crouched next to him.

"Hey, you going to be alright? I didn't want to-" Suddenly a balled fist smacked into Brooklyn's nose and momentarily blinded him. "Ack! Jesus!"

He fell onto his backside and heard the other boy get up and step away.

"Oh shit." Evan muttered almost to himself. Then his footfall was heard leaving in a staggered run.

"Erm! Cheap bastard!" Brooklyn held his fingers over his nose. Hearing something behind him he looked back. "Whoa!"

Behind the boy was a group of four zombies, silently sneaking at him in the classic zombie shuffle until they were spotted. With speed and diligence he came to his feet and bolted from the undead. His legs were wobbly from the fight and he stumbled slightly before catching himself.

"Havana!" Brooklyn yelled as he blew through a display stand. Upon turning the corner he saw several stacks of Guitar Hero guitars for various game consoles. He stepped over to the waist-high stack and frantically ripped the side of the closest box open and dug through it. Brooklyn looked back at the zombies and pulled at the insides of the box. Squeaks from the Styrofoam rubbing against the cardboard box yelled at the boy's ears. Finally the plastic guitar came free, but the detached neck fell to the ground, with most of the packing material.

"Damn it." Brooklyn bent down and grabbed the lengthy object. Retrieving it he lifted his head to see one of the scrawnier zombies a few feet from him. He gasped and darted backwards with both halves of the guitar. Row after row of electronics and accessories pasted Brooklyn as he gained distance from the lanky male corpse. Valuable seconds past as the kid ran through the store, looking for the others. He brought the neck and axe in front of him and tried to attach them on the go. With a satisfying click the two halves became whole, Brooklyn now had a weapon. He slowed down and eyed a glass display case.

"Ow, a Droid." He stared at a sleek black cell phone through the glass, forgetting about the hungry demons behind him entirely. He thought for a moment about smashing open the case and liberating it from it's definite entombment. Brooklyn's mind shot back into reality and he looked around the immediate area. He saw another glass case full of iPods and their smaller counterparts. He swung the plastic guitar into the glass, shattering it and grabbed as many MP3 players as he could. With two hand-fulls of various colored iPods he tossed them to the walkway were the zombie should be coming from. Sure enough the raging undead blasted into view, but quickly lost footing as it cracked and slid over the music players. It must of slid ten feet before it finally lost total control and crashed to the ground. Brooklyn watched the zombie strike the ground and turned to run further down the music aisle.

"Shit, shit, shit! Oh man." He eyed the intersection in front of him with haste "Havana!"

"Brooklyn?" A female voice questioned back.

"Hav-Amarillo?"

"Brooklyn? Where are you?!" The girl questioned in alarm.

"I'm in the," He looked to the sign behind him that lowered from the ceiling "Music section. Where are you?"

"I'm over here!" She shouted.

"That doesn't help!" Brooklyn looked around for waving arms or some proverbial sign of distress but couldn't see any. He kept on his way through the music section and out to the front counters. He looked to the left and saw the girl trying to look over the racks of merchandise.

"Amarillo!" Brooklyn shouted at the girl, unaware of his presence. She spun around to see the boy standing there, holding a guitar in his right hand.

"Brooklyn!" She ran toward him as best she could "Where is the rest of the group?"

"Oh, so now you're concerned for others? That's thoughtful of you." He spat, still ticked by what the girl had done to him.

"Please, now's not the time for that. We need to find the others."

Brooklyn turned his back and marched down the wide open space "Yea, you mean find your family so you can just abandon us again. . ."

"Hey!" Amarillo ran next to the kid and stared him in the face "You would have done the same thing if it was your family!"

"I don't have a family!" New York paused in his steps and yelled at the girl. She only stared at him, her brow lowered in anger, but her eyes sparked with intrigue.

Brooklyn sneered back and bit down on his teeth "Not all of us are as lucky as you. . ." Amarillo stared into his eyes longer, her expression let go of her anger. The boy shot his eyes to the ground then walked off, his shoulders hunched over in a menacing stride. Amber shook her head slightly and jogged next to her former partner. Brooklyn only kept his pace as he saw the feet of the girl step next to him. The two traveled forward to the appliance section of the store. Brooklyn had seemingly lost the zombies that were pursuing him for now. But it was only a matter of time before they picked up on his trail again.