Johnny and I stayed around the area for a day longer, hidden in the car that had been known as Aidan's. I'd found a little food left in one of the bags, giving most of it to Johnny, although not telling him that. I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn't help but hope they'd come back for us- It was a dumb hope, but still there nonetheless.

On the next morning, as I was watching over Johnny while he slept something awful; full of nightmares, I'm assuming, by the small whimpers that escaped his chapped lips, I realized that we had to move on. It wasn't safe to stay here with dead bodies all around- especially since I hadn't made sure they were shot in the head.

I nudged Johnny's arm a little, attempting to wake him, which surprisingly wasn't hard. "We gotta go, Johnny." I had spoke to him, surely enough sadly.

"But what about my mom and dad?" He questioned quietly, staring at me with eyes that held so much sadness- too much sadness for a 6 year old.

"We'll find them eventually," I answered, hoping to comfort the boy somehow. He nodded his head, and with that confirmation, I had grabbed the water bottles that survived and a small bag and slipped them inside, readying myself to protect Johnny with my life when we go on the road.

It was starting to get dark out, and there was absolutely no cars or houses that we'd be able to sleep in that night, which was not a good thing. Being completely exposed didn't sit well with me, and there was no way I'd let that happen; Biters were unpredictable, and even though they had sloppy footwork, could always managed to get people with no problem. Even in broad daylight.

"Alright, Johnny, let's find somewhere to settle down for the night," I spoke to him, not bothering to whisper, which may have been my mistake. The sound of crunching leaves and staggered footsteps could be heard from the other side of the road, and without thinking about it, I grabbed Johnny's arm and pulled him into the opposite direction of the groans.

I certainly was young, foolish, and scared. My lungs were in a terrible pain after running for so long; the sun was gone and the moon overhead at this point. I had no idea where I was going; I made a grave mistake by turning into the woods at night. I've staggered countless times, egging on the Biters that managed to somehow stay only feet behind us.

Johnny was crying, complaining about not being able to go further. I kept going, dragging him along. If we stopped now, we'd be in big trouble. The darkness was dangerous as it is, but with the Biters following us the way they were, hell-bent and ready for their next meal, there was no way we could stop.

I felt bad for the kid, really. He had just turned 6, and here he was having to grow up in this world. He was fully aware of the dangers, but he still was so full of childish innocence. So naïve and young. I'm only 8 years older than him, but my brain was developed enough and I read so many books and seen so many movies, I knew what to expect of this.

We staggered again. Breathing was hard, and with Johnny, who had just collapsed into a crying heap, I could tell we need to find a quick solution. I had my pocket knife, but I wouldn't be able to put down the small flock behind us. There was at least 6 Biters, too many to kill with one person using a 4 inch blade of a pocket knife.

We'd been dallying too long, I should have snatched him up when I had the chance. But I was bent at the waist, hands on my knees and trying to catch my breath. Adrenaline may be flowing through my veins, but it was still a lot of effort for me. I really should have paid attention and shot up when I heard the crackling of twigs under staggered footsteps.

"Ellie!" The scream bounced off the bark of the trees surrounding us. The voice that was usually so quiet and full of laughter screamed in terror. My head whipped up quickly in time to see the ghastly fingers curls around Johnny's arm, the yellowing teeth of the Biter inches away from getting him.

"Johnny!" Was that me? It was so loud, so terrified. It made my throat hurt and my head pound. I hadn't ever killed a Biter. I'd always had the others of our group, the adults, to protect me. Why did I think it was a good idea to grab Johnny and run? I should have made myself a distraction for them and let Johnny get away- but who's telling how well that plan would have worked out. I couldn't protect myself. What made me think I could protect him?

The air whooshed past me. A sudden arrow appeared in the Biters head, it fell to the ground and pulled Johnny with it. Oh, little Johnny. He was fine now. I was relieved, really I was. I rushed to Johnny, pulling him from the dead Biters grip and checking him over. I don't know what I was saying, I couldn't really tell. It was just a rush of words in a quivering voice. I was probably crying. There's no doubt I was; I was so overwhelmed with so many emotions that it seemed so impossible.

When I was sure Johnny was fine, I looked to where the arrow came from. Three figures stood, tall and proud. One had a gun and black curly hair. The other two is what stood out the most. The slouched man holding the crossbow, a vest over his chest. The other wearing a sheriffs uniform, right down to the hat. They were posed like something from a poster.

I pulled Johnny toward me, and he grabbed onto my waist; afraid and probably in shock. I was still uncertain about meeting strangers, the last were bad people. But, my green eyes shone in the little light provided from the moon. Confusion, uncertainty, fear, but most of all relief and appreciation. "Thank you," I breathed out, tightening my grip on Johnny.

"Thank you."