Hours of running, fighting and being constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown had all but drained me of any reserves of energy. As soon as that blast of cold winter air hit me, my body forgot any fatigue that weighed it down. I never ran faster in my life.

I tore down the sidewalk, heading south towards the apartments. The street was clogged with deserted traffic, a sight I had grown numb to. Before, I had used those cars as cover from any prying eyes. Now they were just husks that would slow me down.

Screw cover, or safety for that matter. I needed speed at this point.

I flew through the last intersection, spotting a group down the street to my left from a quick glance. I couldn't make out who or what they were, but regardless of their identities, I remained undetected.

My legs finally slowed to a stop, their goal achieved. They had delivered me to the front of a twenty story, brick and stucco apartment building. Becca told me she lived on the twelfth floor. I tired the door only to find it locked. Maybe Becca should have given me a key because it seemed that this door could only be opened by a tenant. Of course it couldn't be easy.

I took a step back from the door. It seemed solid enough. I doubted I could ram it down and I sure as hell didn't know how to pick the lock either. It wasn't going to allow me into the apartment without a challenge.

Well, challenge accepted. I dropped the bat and hefted up the shotgun, aiming it at the door. I then immediately lowered it. The shot would make too much noise. I was lucky to have dodged anyone getting here. The last thing I wanted to do was send a signal to every hungry Pokémon in the city as to where to get a quick meal.

I dropped the shotgun and picked up the bat. Beating stuff with a stick had worked in the past. Maybe it would work on the door too.

That's what I thought. What happens in reality is much different though. I tried smacking the handle. Nothing except a painful vibration passed through the wood and into my arms. I tried beating the windows. They cracked under the blows but didn't shatter like I had hoped. On closer inspection, I saw a wire mesh laced between the panes, preventing the windows from breaking.

"Well that's just great," I muttered, tossing the bat next to the shotgun. My hands laced through my hair, just like I always do when I'm frustrated. I battled across Edmonton against impossible odds only to be beaten by a freaking door. I groaned and looked to the sky, intent on sending a volley of curses to the heavens.

My eyebrows shot up when I found myself staring into the eyes of a blue and red bird perched on the second story windowsill. It cocked its head and I swore I could see a smile form on its beak.

"Have you encountered a problem, sir?" the Taillow asked in an oddly cheerful tone. It didn't seem too threatening, but its sudden appearance had me a little off edge.

"Uh, yeah. Door's locked," I said, pointing at the blockade. The bird glided down to the roof of a crashed car next to me. Its piercing eyes never left my face. "Do we know each other or...?"

"My name is Keatly, sir," the Taillow said. His mouth remained open, waiting for a positive response from me. All I could do was shrug, not recognizing the name at all. The Taillow deflated. "Oh... you don't remember me? I guess I really shouldn't be surprised. It was a hectic moment for you back there. It was silly for me to expect you to remember."

Back there? When had I seen a Taillow before? I started from the beginning, fast-forwarding through the memories. I stopped when I hit the point when I first met the Collector and he wanted to show me his collection. How I ventured into the room and saw his prisoners. I remember seeing Miranda and two humans, and chained in the corner was a blue and red bird looking miserable.

"You were one of the prisoners?" I finally asked. I couldn't tell the difference between Pokémon to be honest, so this Taillow could have just been a random bird.

The way the joy rushed back to his face told me different. Keatly hopped up and down excitedly. "Yes! Yes, I was!" he exclaimed, oddly happy to be a captive of an insane head collector. "You saved my life, sir. I'm in your debt forever. I'll do anything to repay you!"

I opened my mouth to respond with a thank you, but movement at the end of the street caught my attention. I froze when I saw the irregular body shapes and colours of the group. Too odd to be human.

I dropped into a crouch behind the car, heart escalating to a frenzied beat in a matter of seconds. Through the cracked glass, I could see them looking down the streets, deciding where to head next.

"What's wrong?" the Taillow inquired, looking down in confusion. He looked down the street towards the hunting Pokémon. "Why are you hiding from them?"

"Are you really asking that?" I hissed. "You really don't know what most Pokémon do when they catch a human?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't awake for very long before I was taken captive."

Wow, that's fortunate. Keatly hadn't seen anything too horrifying yet. I took a glance at the group. They had chosen their direction. Unfortunately, I was right in their path.

"All you need to know is that it isn't good," I said hurriedly. "Look, you said you owe me, right?"

The bird nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes I'll do anything."

"Good. I need you to find me a way into this building," I said, pointing at the apartment. "We'll call it even after that, okay?"

"Even? Hardly," Keatly chuckled. "I already know a way in, sir. Follow me."

The bird took flight to the side of the building. Creeping along the side of the car, I checked to see where the bird had flown to. I saw him perched on a metal catwalk attached to the side of the apartment.

"You can get access to the building from this window," the Taillow said, pointing to the glass frame next to him. "Come on, hurry, sir. Those scoundrels that you fear get closer every second."

I checked on the Pokémon advancing down the street. They methodically searched every car, trying to find an unfortunate victim hiding in the wreckage. Barely half the distance was already covered, leaving a meager few minutes for me.

I quickly ran to the alley while they had their heads buried in a small sedan. That only left me staring up at a fire escape ten feet straight up.

"Ladder is right here," Keatly announced. He pointed out the ladder that was locked in place well out of my reach.

"This is great and all, Keatly, but I can't fly like you can," I complained, observing the metal grid. "It's not like I can jump eight feet straight up."

Keatly frowned, searching around for a bit. His face brightened and he kicked a lever. The ladder released and plunged towards the ground. It crashed against the concrete with a metallic screech. I exchanged a horrified glance with Keatly.

"Oops," the bird mumbled.

"Oops?" I repeated, barely keeping myself from yelling. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Keatly whined, looking hurt. "I didn't think it through that well."

I instantly felt bad for scolding him. He just wanted to help. But that didn't stop the crash from echoing down the street and no doubt alerting the group that I was trying to avoid.

I tossed my weapons to the fire escape. Keatly reacted fast enough to catch the bat before it fell and avoid the shotgun. Without missing a beat, I climbed as fast as I could. My feet slipped on the rungs and my shin burned every time the burn was irritated, but I pushed through and onto the first landing.

"I will get the ladder," Keatly said, but I stopped him with a simple hand on his shoulder.

"No time for that," I explained quickly. "You gotta get outta here right now, okay?"

"I really had not planned on staying," Keatly replied. I gave him a confused glance while I retrieved my weapons. "I caught up to you to ask why you preformed those heroics tonight."

"Heroics?" I laughed, using the butt end of the shotgun to smash the window into tiny fragments of glass before turning to the bird. "I didn't go looking to save people. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only reason why I'm out here is because I have to repay someone for saving my life. I'm not a hero. A hero doesn't blast someone's head off."

"But... you just said why you're a hero," Keatly said. "You didn't have to help that person. You're doing this out of the kindness of your heart. It is your nature to be selfless. Despite what you think, you are a hero. And I am going to make sure the whole world knows that."

I watched Keatly fly off into the night without another word. He flew above the building and was gone, lost in the city. He probably had no idea where he was going.

"The noise came from over here!" a voice called from just outside the alley. That jolted me from standing in plain view to diving through the shattered window. It was only until I was in the apartment that I realized I hadn't told Keatly my name.

Sucks for him, I guess.

Standing up, I assessed the room I was in. The walls were pockmarked by dents, the furniture reduced to toothpicks. Something big let loose in here. I sincerely hoped that it was gone. A hole was blasted in the far wall, leading to an apparently empty corridor. Any other details were lost in the gloom, since every light had been blown out.

I treaded carefully across the apartment's carpet. Glass and bits of plaster crunched under my feet. As I stepped through the gaping hole in the wall, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was really wrong here. It felt... dead. That was the only way I could describe it. Nothing stirred. Though I couldn't see past the doors, I knew the apartments were just as empty as the one I had just entered.

A light bulb flickered at the end of the hallway. I headed towards it and the empty space where a door should have been. The mangled metal rectangle was a testament to the strength of whatever had smashed it into the wall. The rails leading to the ground floor were all bent and disfigured, and the concrete stairs were cracked and crumbled.

Yeah, not going downstairs. Good thing I wasn't heading down there anyways. I peered up through the column of open space between the landings and rubbed the box that held the potentially lifesaving insulin.

Apartment 1208, twelfth floor. That's where I would find Becca's mom. No point in dawdling. I took the stairs two at a time, my muscles and lungs cursing me as I did. Speed was the difference between life and death for her.

If she was still alive, that is.

Floor twelve wasn't in any better condition than the second floor. Lights all burned out, fractures crawling across the cheap wallpaper. A dark stain marked the carpet at my feet.

I swallowed the golf ball that formed in my throat and started walking down the hall.

I passed 1212's locked door, deep gouges carved in it.

1211's gray lettering stared back at me.

1210 had its living quarters exposed. A broken window let the breeze flutter through shredded curtains.

1209's door wasn't attached to the hinges of the frame. Instead, I had to step over its fragmented remains to proceed. The furniture inside had been shredded and thrown throughout the room.

1208 looked unmarked. I couldn't see inside it, and that scared me the most. A torn and mangled body could lie on the other side. Maybe it would be empty, the body of the girl's mother taken away. Or a crazy woman with a knife could be waiting, demanding to know where her precious daughter was and what I had done with her.

It was not knowing that scared me the most. Any horror that could be imagined existed beyond that door. I gripped the doorknob and twisted, half hoping it would be locked so I didn't have to find out what waited for me. The brass turned easily. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

Nothing popped out at me. Blood didn't splatter the walls. A clean room greeted me, furniture and valuables all intact. It looked like a regular apartment, as if it went untouched by the apocalypse.

I took a few tentative steps into the room and the door closed behind me. That wasn't freaky at all.

On edge, I ventured farther into the living room. A few black couches sat around a simple coffee table in perfect view of a nice television set which crackled with static. A kitchen sat in one corner at the opposite end of the room. Next to it, a hall lead to what I assumed were the bedrooms and a bathroom.

It was so... normal in here. After hours spent in hellish conditions, standing in a simple living room just seemed so odd. It put me on edge even more. I slipped off my shoes out of habit as I explored the room.

My sore feet padded silently across the carpet, the hissing of the TV masking any faint noises. I cleared the couches and took a glance out the window. The blinds were pulled back fully, exposing me to the world. I shivered at the thought of being watched and switched my gaze to the kitchen. A dark lump lay in the doorway, half hidden behind the frame. I squinted to make out what it was in the gloom.

It wasn't a shapeless lump. A pair of legs lay motionless on the pale carpet. My hands went slack, dropping the weapons.

The image of a headless corpse was the first thing that came to mind. Her head nothing more than a trophy claimed by the Collector. How would I tell Becca that her mom was dead? How could I tell her that I had failed?

I stumbled forward, anticipating a gruesome sight on the other side of the wall. The chest came into view, intact and clean. No blood stained the tiles. Not exactly a fully good sign. The Collector had to get all that blood from somewhere.

The full kitchen came into view and I allowed myself to breathe. Her head was still attached to the rest of her body. No lacerations or visible injuries. She just lay there, perfectly still like she was sleeping.

I dropped to my knees next to her. Her resemblance to her daughter was uncanny. Same brown hair, same face. Albeit, her hair was streaked with gray and her face had started to develop a few wrinkles, but that was all that differentiated her from Becca.

All I had to do was wake her up, give her the insulin and head back. Finally, something simple, right?

"Hey. Wake up," I said softly, trying to coo the older woman out of her dreams. No response. Guess she was a deep sleeper. "Helloooo. Mrs..." I frowned when I realized I didn't know Becca's last name. Just one more thing I forgot to ask for. "Becca's mom? You gotta wake up now. I've got your shot."

No response. I tried again, more forcefully, even resorting to slapping her cheek very lightly. Nothing worked. She seemed so content, completely oblivious to the chaos outside her apartment. She just slept, remaining completely still in my presence.

Maybe a little too still...

"Oh no." Why didn't I think of that before? I searched for the basic signs of life. I felt the slight gusts of air from under her nose. She was breathing, but it was very shallow. Her pulse was also incredibly slow and unnervingly faint.

She wasn't asleep. She was unconscious. Damn, I'm an idiot.

I fumbled for the insulin box, sliding the syringe out. This was supposed to help, right? But how? Did I just jab it in her and hope for the best?

I examined the needle point. There wasn't much else I could do. It's not like you can do much else with a syringe. I raised my arm high, sent a prayer to whoever was listening and plunged the needle into the woman's leg.

I stayed frozen in that position waiting for something to happen. A few minutes passed before I realized that it was going to take a while for her to wake up. It was insulin, not adrenaline. She wasn't going to wake up as soon as I stabbed her.

I slumped against the counter, leaving the syringe sticking out of her leg. All I had to do now was wait.

I eyed the couches in the living room. They just screamed comfort and I instantly wanted to just sink into one. I looked over at Becca's mom, still passed out and oblivious. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to wake up to the apocalypse if you were waking up on a comfy couch instead of a cold floor.

I groaned and stood up, my knee creaking from the strain. I grabbed hold of one of her legs and started dragging her out of the kitchen. She snorted in her sleep, and I wondered how she would react to seeing me in her apartment and how she would take the news.

Man, this was going to be awkward to explain.