I said nothing. I did nothing. I just looked at him; it felt as if he had slapped me in the face. How could he ask me to do that? After all of this? After everything we've been through? He's one of my best friends, I could never do that. George could help him, he's a doctor. There's got to be a way to get the poison out of his body, there's got to be a way to get him better. This isn't the way things are meant to be. He's not meant to die. Not now.

"No." I said finally, looking at my lap and fiddling with my fingers.

Harry sighed, frustrated, and looked at me. "Martha. I know it must be a lot for you to take in, and it's an incredibly large burden I'm placing on you. You're one of my best friends, and I trust you with all my heart. There is no one else I would ask this to. I knew you'd say no, but it's the only option for me. I don't want you to see me like one of them. It's not fair for you to see that, after seeing Joe. And I know you think that George can help me, and I'm sure he's doing the best he can, but there's just no way that I can get better. One way or another I'm going to die. And you'll have to accept that." He took hold of my hand and stroked it with his thumb reassuringly.

George turned away from Harry's leg and back to us. "Martha, I can't help Harry. A zombie bite is a zombie bite, and the venom and poison have already spread around most of his body, and I can't do anything about it now. I'm sorry. I tried my best."

I felt numb, like the last little ray of happiness had been taken away from me, and all I had now was just fear, loneliness and darkness. I felt like there was nothing happy left in the world anymore, like everything bright and happy had just slowly disintegrated. I felt like my world was falling apart.

My stamina and strength now replenished, I helped George carry and support Harry back to his lodge, to help him regain some of his strength. George brought him several cups of hot substances to keep him warm, and fed him good food to get him as close to health as he once was. I never left his side. I sat on the floor by the sofa that I was on holding his hand all the time to let him know that I was here, and to comfort him. He told me to go and get some rest and eat but I wouldn't leave him. He would have done the same for me.

John and Stan came to meet us. They were George's sons, John was 18, and Stan was 16. John was tall and well-built, with messy dark black hair and some signs of facial hair. He wore the same raggedy clothes as George, and he had hazel-brown eyes. Stan was slightly smaller in height than John, but was still a well-built. He had sandy-brown hair and green eyes, and wore the same clothes as his brother, but they were less ragged and old. We all had dinner together, and it was the first hot meal that I had consumed in a very long time, and it felt good to have some proper food inside of me rather than mushy fruit and stale bread. Harry looked a lot better too. It turns out that George had been stockpiling for a while, and managed to keep and store a lot of food in the basement, so we won't run out of food anytime soon.

It soon became night, and everyone was told where they would be sleeping. Harry was to stay on the sofa, and I persisted that I stayed with him, but I wasn't allowed in case he became in pain and needed seeing to, so George was to sleep downstairs on the other sofa to keep Harry safe. John was in George's bed, and I was to share a room with Stan.

We walked into Stan's room and he showed me the bed where I would be sleeping, on the opposite side of the room. He handed me a pillow and a duvet, which I placed on the bed, and I went into the bathroom to clean my teeth, brush my hair, and change into a set of pyjamas that Stan provided me with which were incredibly big for me.

Once I was all dressed and clean, I hopped into bed and Stan turned the light out, also getting into his own bed. We didn't speak for a while, but after a few minutes, Stan struck up conversation.

"How did you find us?" He said. "I didn't think anyone would, seeing as we are practically in the middle of nowhere."

"Your dad found me unconscious in the snow, and took me in." I replied.

I heard his head shift towards my direction. "You were unconscious? What happened?"

"I hadn't properly eaten for days, and my energy and strength was low. It was incredibly nice of your Dad to let Harry and I stay, and to provide us with food, shelter and warmth. We are both extremely grateful for your help. Thanks for the pyjamas by the way. They're a bit big." I joked, and I got a laugh back from him.

"It's the least I can do. I'm glad we found you; there aren't many people around that haven't turned. It's good to find people that you can talk to." He said.

I smiled, grateful for his company and gratefulness. "How long have you been here?"

"Well, this is our home. Since my mother died, we had to move somewhere smaller and further away. We've been here for about 6 months." Stan said.

"Your mother died? What happened?" I said, sitting up in my bed. "Oh. Sorry, I shouldn't pry. It's your business, not mine. I'm sorry."

Stan sat up also. "No, it's fine. I don't mind talking about it. In fact, it's easier to talk about it than rather keep it inside and to yourself. It's nice that people want to talk to you and listen." He came and sat on the edge of my bed. "My mother was out working that day when this whole thing started. The three of us had stayed in the house to help Dad, and we only realised what was going on when we heard screams from outside. My dad went to go and see what was going on, and we went out with him, and that's when we saw her."

"You saw your mother? As one of them?" I asked, and he nodded. "I'm so sorry. It must have been incredibly horrible for you to see. I never should have said anything. I'm-"

"-Don't be sorry. It's fine. As time had gone on, it's been easier to deal with it, because I've got my brother and my dad to help me through it. It was very difficult to not run to her and tell her that everything was ok, when it wasn't." Stan interrupted. He looked at me, shrugging.

"I know exactly how you feel." I said, stroking his shoulder. "I saw my friend Joe as one of them. It was one of the most horrible things I have ever seen, and it took me a while to get over it. I think this whole thing has affected us in many different yet similar ways, and we are all finding it increasingly difficult to deal with the stuff that's going on."

"I'm sorry to hear that," He said, taking my hand in his.

"If you ever need to talk about anything," I said, looking at him. "I'm right here for you."

Stan took my hand in his. We sat there for a while in silence, not saying anything. After a couple of minutes, Stan went back to his own bed, and I climbed back under the covers, looking at the ceiling, like nothing had happened.

"Thank you." He whispered.