Disclaimer: I know I was gone for a long time, and I'm not sorry for that. Nothing affects life more than life, and I've had plenty of it over the last year. Betcha thought I was dead, huh? Well I'm not, not yet anyway. A special thanks to , whose review gave me the much needed boost to crank out this bitch. This one will be on the shorter side, because I've got some ideas rolling around in my brain and this was the best way to achieve them. I don't own Hey! Arnold.

HA

Overall Phoebe was pleased with her work. Her stitches were consistent and small, the product of a drive to become a great doctor and hours of cross stitching with her mother. Her mother. Shaking away those thoughts that brought painful memories, she occupied herself by placing a home-made band-aid onto her friend's pale skin.

Iggy's voice flexed and moved with an emotion they were surprised to hear come from the cool kid of P.S. 118. He was becoming excited, losing himself in the words and forgetting the dire situation they were in. Some of the class became lost with him, closing their eyes and imagining the scenes he was describing. Others held small conversations, eyes generally on the fire or the sky above – anywhere but the naked skin of their comrades.

Helga stiffened considerably when they heard – presumably – a pack of dogs howling in the distance. Their cries grew closer before dying off, but Iggy kept right on reading.

"'Suffer little children,' said the Controller… Slowly, majestically, with a faint humming of the machinery, the Conveyors moved forward, thirty-three centimetres an hour. In the red darkness glinted innumerable rubies."

The howling was back, much closer and more frantic than before. Suddenly it morphed into aggressive barking, then several quick, sharp whines, then stopped completely. Helga stood, her hand ripping from Arnold's grasp as she met eyes with Chava. An uncomfortable silence strained the group as their leader also stood up, snuffing out the low flames of the fire.

"Inside."

They didn't need a second warning.

Grabbing their clothes and provisions, the large group of nude ten year olds bolted for the bus, all shame of one another's skin forgotten. Chava laughed as she grabbed the chili pot and her clothes and followed Simmons – the teacher's exposed backside shaking as his tender feet were assaulted by rough terrain. The moment she was inside and the doors winched shut behind her, she along with several others crammed up against the windshield in efforts to see outside.

There was no slow trickle like the fog. One minute the road was empty save for the bus, the next it hosted a slew of undead. Some were missing limbs, arms or legs, some had fresh blood and fur matted to their mouths and clinging to their fingers. Clothes were torn and dirty from exposure, and several were bloated and blue.

Lila had to slam a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream as those within the sanctuary of the bus watched the zombies stumble around in search of the source of sounds that had drawn them. Mimicking the creatures outside, a few kids brave enough to move slowly redressed. Helga grimaced as the coarse material rubbed against her cold skin, her eyes never leaving the horde.

"Why are there so many of them?" Phoebe whispered beside her, but the blonde said nothing as Gerald placed a hand on the Japanese girl's shoulder.

"Where did they come from?" his voice too was low, as if any louder and the creatures would somehow manage to get in. A very real and tangible fear. Curly moved up to the dash, his pale and skinny chest shivering in the cold atmosphere. He had at least pulled his pants on, but the image he cut as he bent over the atlas made him look older and strained. Rhonda – as she zipped up her own jeans and watched him – had the feeling that although they were still very much in the present, she was somehow looking into the future as well.

"We're not too far from Grey's River; a mile or so at most. They must have come from there when the food ran out." He seemed to startle himself with his own mutterings, and Helga sighed as she moved up to stand next to him. The remaining students still naked gradually came to their senses, moving quietly into their own secluded corners as they dressed. A few would jump as the zombies outside stumbled and bumped into the yellow bus. Some held their breath, afraid even their slightest sound would alert the predators.

"What happened to your shirt?" Chava asked as she eyed the fourth grader next to her, who still hadn't gone to fetch coverings for his torso. The Gammelthorpe visibly deflated at the mention of his beloved Christmas sweater.

"I dropped it."

She laughed softly, although her eyes moved to the mass of zombies out the windshield and didn't return. Rhonda slowly made her way up to the three of them, and she didn't miss the way Curly shuddered when she placed a hand on his unclad shoulder. Nodding her head she motioned over to Lila, who had this calm sort of hysteria washing over her as she eyed Helga.

"I wonder if Peapod Kid is out there." She mused loud enough for everyone to hear, although no one said anything until Mr. Simmons noticed the way Helga's fists clenched. Fearing a physical altercation, he moved to intercept the two girls but was woefully too late.

"Lila-"

"I doubt it but your dad probably is."

All life within Rita stopped.

Helga knew exactly what she had said, and it was purposeful. She had wanted to hurt Little Miss Perfect as badly as the red head had been hurting her. The small but sharp pains that had been pulsing within her at every jab were screaming for vengeance – whether those jabs were meant to be heard or not made no never mind. The girls stared each other down as their classmates sank into the surrounding seats. From the front of the bus, Curly and Chava watched.

"Helga-" Simmons started again, but the blonde girl talked right over him.

"Hurts, doesn't it? I'm glad, because that's why I said it. I want you to hurt. To take that knife within your heart and twist it, to make you want to cry, to make you want to hit me. Go ahead, hit me. Slap me across the face or punch me in the stomach."

The tension was too much, the hostility and the tension and the fear was just too much. Harold stood up suddenly in preparation for something, though he wasn't sure what – Patty pushed him right back down. Her eyes never left the blonde girl who she hardly recognized now.

"Helga-"

"I want you to hurt so bad your eyes will open and realize that the world has changed. Being delicate in the face of your feelings hasn't done squat, so maybe this will work instead: everyone you know, is dead. Everyone you love, is dead. The only survivors you can count on are the ones on this bus right now. Stop the delusions of seeing anyone with a pulse and cravings for food other than human flesh; stop whining at me about how you think what I'm doing is wrong. That there is a cure. I don't care anymore, and I don't care to listen to you anymore.

"As it is, the only ones keeping your butt alive are me, Curly and Chava. Now if you have any better ideas on survival, then by all means get off this bus and do it. But I won't tolerate your whimpering and complaining about my methods. And I won't have you making snide comments about the ones I couldn't keep alive; they are my burden and I don't need you reminding me." When she stopped talking but didn't turn away, Lila became aware that Helga was expecting her to say something. No one else seemed to possess the ability to speak at that point. And those who did remained quiet.

"I . . . I'm sorry." She whispered, and Helga sighed, crossing her arms.

"I don't want an apology. That doesn't do anyone any good."

"Then what do you want from me?" her shout echoed around the small cabin of the bus, and even Arnold was shocked the red head had it in her to raise her voice.

"I want you to man up." With that, Helga turned and made her way up to the front, but not before she stopped at Sheena's seat. With a sedating smile, she motioned for the taller pacifist to join her. She nodded and stood, ignoring Eugene who went to keep her seated – Helga's outburst had made him uncomfortable. He thought Sheena felt the same.

Chava was bending over the atlas with Curly, Simmons sitting in the seat behind them. He noticed all the little pairs of eyes following Helga as she walked, knew she felt the burn of their gazes on her back. And like the true hard-ass she was molding into, she ignored it all.

"We've got about twenty miles or so before we reach the 101." Thaddeus was saying, and the pair looked up when the girls arrived.

"Hear that Turbo? Twenty miles – think you can make it?" Sheena looked around at the faces of her comrades, before giving a shaky nod of her head.

"Ye-yes. I can make it." she caught Helga's glance and the girls shared a genuine smile as Sheena slid into the driver's seat.

"Clear a path or plow the road?" Chava was surprised when her question garnered a grin, not so much sadistic as it was cocky. The young woman flexed her grip on the steering wheel before shaking her head.

"I-I think I want to plow." Quiet though it was, Sheena's voice was full of confidence in not only her leaders, but in herself as well. Helga grinned as she grabbed Curly by the shoulder and threw him into the nearest empty seat. Plopping down next to him, she met mirthful eyes with Mr. Simmons before returning her gaze to her Commander. The older woman remained standing against the dashboard, eyes hard as she watched the undead creatures ahead of them stumble around like drunks. Sheena looked up curiously, feeling more certain with every passing second. Chava said not a word, didn't even turn her head to meet the girl's face – all she did was nod. And it was enough.

Another battle cry erupted from normally quiet pacifist as she brought the large bus to life and slammed her foot on the gas. Spinning her wheels for half a second, Sheena shifted the vehicle from neutral into drive and throttled the makeshift tank forward. The passengers behind her gripped and grabbed for the leather seats in front of them, their only source of stability as they were thrown around. Loud thumps could be heard as they plowed over the obstacle on the roadway.

While all the other undead fell beneath the plow of that old bus, one managed to grab on to a protruding piece of metal. Climbing up slowly, he reached for something he couldn't see but knew was there – if he knew anything at all of course. Just as he crested the hood and was inches away from the windshield, Chava turned her head in Helga's direction.

"Clean the windshield."

Laughing the little blonde girl stood, only to be pushed down by Curly. Her classmate gave a pointed glance at the wound on her arm before moving towards the roof hatch. Throwing it open, he popped his body out enough to get decent aim, and fired the gun. It all happened simultaneously to the kids inside as they watched the creature's head get forced back, then he slowly slid down the hood, only to be caught on something. Chava groaned.

At least he was no longer a threat, but he sure made one ugly hood ornament.

"Eww." A chorus from Helga, Curly, Mr. Simmons, Rhonda, Arnold, and Eugene probably would have been one of the funniest things Chava had heard in a long time, were it not for the memory it stirred of her daughter. That and the immediate threat of the zombies being squashed and squished rather morbidly beneath their tires.

"Get out of my way!" Sheena all but snarled, foot pressing down even harder on the pedal as the roadway gradually cleared of the infected infestation. As the last of the bumps and splats died down, she eased up, eyes trained on the asphalt before her although she wasn't really seeing anything.

As conversation slowly picked up where the excitement left off, Torvald quietly made his way to the back where Lila had hidden herself. Her cheeks were still tinged a light pink at being scolded in front of the class, but it was nowhere near the burning red it had been. Her eyes never left the hands in her lap, even as he sat down beside her. They were silent for a few precious moments, before she finally spoke what was on her mind.

"She is ever so right, you know." Her voice was low, and when he saw Joey stand to move towards them he shook his head. As much as he was taking a liking to the little black boy, Lila needed this moment alone to get her thoughts off her chest. Honestly he didn't even think that she knew who was sitting next to her – but if someone else joined them she would notice and may never open up again.

"I wanted to hit her ever so badly. To slap that look off her face. Not because she hurt my feelings, but because she is right; she is ever so right. And I hate her for the fact that she could recognize what was going on before anyone else. I hate that she's not the bully anymore, that she's changed, that nothing will be the same and she's handling it better than I am." The redhead was quiet again, and Torvald was trying to decide whether he should try to comfort her now or just leave, when she spoke again.

"She's stronger than me, and I hate her ever so much for that, too." All he could do was take her hand and hold it. He couldn't tell her that wasn't true, because it was. Helga was very much stronger than her, but for all the wrong reasons that were not his to tell. That her home life had been difficult, that she had to be strong to survive or be eaten alive. But Lila was strong as well; she had the strength to admit her faults, to voice the darkness that had begun consuming her mind.

He didn't though. Just sat in the back and held her hand, wishing he could be as strong as his younger classmates who could talk about their feelings.

H*A

Ten minutes later and Rita was rolling into Grays River, or what was left of it. The town was deserted; the vehicles left were parked neatly by the curb in front of the church, restaurant, and gas station. That was really all the town was: Haunsaker Oil Chevron gas station, Duffy's Irish Pub, Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church, the local IGA, and of course Chava's only reason for stopping: Smith, Weston & Sons guns and supply, Grays River branch. Her excitement was beginning to show as she grabbed Sheena's shoulder and gestured toward the store front, amazed and a little on edge that the displays were still intact.

Slowing down and eventually stopping, Sheena put the bus into neutral and sat back, staring off down the road. She could be the driver, and she could mutilate the zombies with her wheels, but she could not be a raider. Not again, not after her Aunt Shelly.

And somehow, even though she didn't know these kids near enough to know their back stories, Chava understood that.

"Crazy, up on the roof, Kid, Big Dude, Football Head and Hair Boy, follow me. We're going for a walk." Pulling her hat on, Chava was well aware that the last time a group went on a raid, they came back one head short. She would be lying if she said she was not nervous; things could go bad, again, really quickly. Phoebe employed Nadine, Sid and Stinky and together they emptied a few of the Wall*Mart bags, passing them to the raiders silently. Sid shared a look with Helga and Torvald, the three had witnessed the same things in the supercenter and if he was going to be completely honest with himself Sid was glad he wasn't going this time.

Picking up her handgun, the older woman nodded to her group as they all armed themselves with rifles, Curly climbing out through the hatch and sitting cross-legged again. Rhonda watched him go before moving up to the dashboard as the raiding party exited the bus and cautiously made their way into the ammunitions store.

The walk was quiet as the small group made their way to the store, on edge when the little bells on the door tinkled their arrival. Inside the air was stale and old, like the world itself was decaying and not just the humans living on it; but there were no bodies on the floor. There were no bodies on the displays – there were no bodies anywhere. Nothing moved.

"You two get the guns, and you get the ammunition." Chava ordered as she jumped onto the counter and surveyed the store. Helga and Torvald immediately began using the butts of their rifles to smash the glass cases while Arnold and Gerald moved from aisle to aisle, saving time by simply sweeping the boxes off the shelves and directly into their bags. No one spoke.

They worked swiftly, and there was a collective sigh of relief when they left the store without incident. Chava was the last to reenter the bus – quickly she went over to their zombie ornament and kicked him off with no remorse. He was stuck, and she openly grimaced when part of his chest peeled off as he was finally detached. Gross.

"Alright let's head out. We've got another twenty miles before we reach the junction, and I'd like to make it before nightfall." Just as Sheena was rolling the bus down the road, Stinky moved forward to talk with Helga and Chava.

"I reckon I can't talk for everyone, but I'd sure like to know where we're headin." His southern drawl seemed strained, and Mr. Simmons could finally see that this episode was taking a heavy toll not only on those who rose to the occasion, but his other students as well.

"We're planning for Canada, but there's a small cluster of islands in the Puget Sound -" Chava began, but Park cut her off.

"The San Juan Islands. I used to live in Friday Harbor before we moved to Hillwood." The older woman nodded but kept right on talking as if she hadn't been interrupted.

"- that we are going to check out first. To avoid the mass undead as much as possible, we're going to take the 101; that leads us right to Port Angeles. From there, we can see if there's a working boat. If you have a better idea I'd like to hear it." The bus remained silent, and Stinky nodded with a smile and although there was no mirth in it, it was a comfort to see.

"Alright, I dun suppose I'll follow ya, seein as that sounds like the best plan so far." Rather than telling him he could follow whoever he damn-well pleased off the nearest cliff like she would have done in the past, Helga merely smiled.

"Ok Stretch."

And that was that. The ride remained calm for the rest of the ride to the junction, save for the quiet conversations. They didn't encounter another horde, no other vehicles, not even another town. At most they came across were tiny villages, more like outposts here and there – a few houses and driveway turnouts dotted the highway. The most exciting thing they saw besides the trees was the single gas station, where the pumps had been taken out by a freight truck. Several bodies littered the area, but by the time the school bus reach the scene the action had long been over.

It all made Chava nervous. She had thought that the best thing at the moment would be a peaceful drive down the road, with no zombie encounters. If it remained like that, then wouldn't there would be less death on her end. A win-win right? Apparently not, as the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up, and her skin crawled in anticipation. The relief she was expecting never came, and she soon realized why.

It was the calm before the storm so to speak – the quieter it was now, the louder the bang she'd have to deal with later. More zombies. Faster zombies. More dead.

Looking back at Helga, Chava could read the same thoughts running across her own mind. The fact that this little ten year old girl was thinking about how many of her classmates -her friends - she would lose next time, when she should be thinking about boys hit the older woman hard. She shouldn't be forced to grow up so fast, none of them should. And in that moment, that was the biggest tragedy of them all.

HA