Chapter Twenty-One— A Horrifying Tale

"Have you seen Josh at all?" Drew asked Christie. She sat in the library, much like the other survivors. Drew noticed she had changed her clothes. She now wore a white jacket with a red blouse under it and a pair of blue jeans. She read a book by Dean Koontz, called "Midnight." She looked up from her book, shook her head, and continued to read. "Alright," Drew remarked. "He was still sleeping when we left the class room, but when I just walked by there, he was gone."

"Maybe he went to take a shower," Christie suggested. "I took one when I woke up."

"Yeah, makes sense," Drew said, sitting down next to Christie. He looked down at his own clothes and saw all the blood and dirt on them. "I could probably use one myself, and a fresh pair of clothes."

"I'll say."

Drew lifted his arm up and took a whiff of his underarm, grimacing at the stench. "Wow, I think I'm starting to smell like one of them." He stood up. "Guess I'll go take my own shower then. Maybe find a change of clothes too."

As he was about to leave, Sam approached them.

"Hey, guys," he said. "I see you woke up too." Sam looked at the book in Christie's hands. "You like Dean Koontz?"

"He's one of my favorite authors," Christie said, looking up from the book. "He writes some of the best characters I think. They're so believable, but so unique."

"I know exactly what you mean," Sam said, sitting down. "The way he writes his characters is one of the things I try to emulate most in my writing."

"You're a writer?"

Sam smiled. "I know it's hard to imagine someone with my great physique as anything but a body-builder," he said sarcastically as he gestured to his thin frame. "But yes, I kind of fancy myself a writer. A few of my short stories have been published in the paper and some other magazines. It was just a way of paying the bills as I worked on my big novel." He sighed. "Which is currently resting in the office in my apartment. From the looks of it, I'll never be able to get the rough draft back. Years of work all for nothing." Sam shrugged it off though. "Though when I get out of here, I'll have my big break. I'll be able to write about the horrors of this city. That would be the only good thing to come from this Godforsaken city."

"And you can tell the world what really happened here," Drew said. "I think people need to know, no matter how horrifying it is."

"Agreed."

Christie marked her place in the book and closed it. "Hey, Sam where's Sarah at?"

Sam's face grew sullen and downtrodden at the name of his wife. Drew noticed it right away, but Sam tried to cover it up by smiling. The look pained even Drew. He wondered what could have possibly happened to hurt the couple so much, but he realized he didn't have to imagine much. The world all the survivors knew now could do nothing but hurt.

"She's still sleeping," Sam said. "She's been through a lot and needs her rest, so I let her sleep."

"Sam, what happened with you two? You know, before you got here?" Drew asked quickly. Sam sighed, but didn't say anything, only stared down at the table. Drew continued. "Something bad happened, didn't it? Sarah hasn't said a word. It's like she completely shut her self down."

Sam sighed again, running his hand through his hair. "I guess there's no harm in telling anyone. Hell, might even help instead of keeping it all bottled up inside." He said those words out loud, but Drew understood that he wasn't speaking to Drew or anyone else. He was speaking to himself.

With that, Sam started his story.

xXxXx

(A/N: Just so no one gets thrown off. The following is written in first-person, from Sam's point of view. Just filling you in.)

Things had started out so great that night. Everything had been perfect. It was Sarah and mine's anniversary. Five glorious years. We went out to eat at the fanciest restaurant I could afford. We didn't make much. I was a struggling writer, still waiting to catch my big break, and Sarah worked as an English teacher in the elementary school. Still, five years was a big deal, so I spent a lot of money to get us a table at some fancy Italian restaurant.

"Where are you going?" I asked Sarah as she stood up.

"Bathroom," she answered with a thin smile.

My lips stretched into a small smile of my own. "Bathroom my ass. You're going to call the babysitter for the tenth time, aren't you?"

"Alright," she said, sitting back down. "You caught me. It's just; I'm not sure how much I trust Lori with our Madison. I mean, why couldn't we have gotten Mrs. Collins to watch her?"

"Mrs. Collins has gotten very sick," I pointed out logically. "She's come down with the flu and had to be taken to the hospital. The flu can do a number on people as old as her. Lori was the only person available on short notice."

"But she's only fifteen, Sam! How do we know she can take care of a six-month old baby?"

I reached across the table and placed her hand in mine. I locked eyes with her clear blue eyes, gleaming and flickering in the soft bath of the candle light. Her eyes were what drew me to her in the first place. They were so beautiful, set in her face like two precious diamonds. Her soft black hair was let down, resting lightly on her shoulders. She wore light blue dress that pronounced her delicate figure. At that moment, she had never looked more beautiful.

I leaned in to kiss her, prepared to feel her silky lips on mine, and that's when all hell broke loose.

They came through the front door, looking as if they had climbed straight out of the darkest pits of hell itself. I immediately smelled a horrible stench, one that reminded me of rotting garbage, and I found myself thinking once again that the crowd that entered the room had really crawled out of the hole of the dead and back into the world of the living. They grabbed a couple waiting for their seats near the front door. I didn't see what became of them because the crowd just moved over them, burying them in a sea of flesh and chaos. I didn't see what became of them, but I heard it. I heard the screams, I heard the sound of flesh being torn from bone, and I heard the gnashing of teeth.

I've wrote before about something so shocking, so brutal, that it froze the protagonist in his place. It was the sort of trick a writer would implement to increase the suspense and I guess there's some truth to it. There must be something so horrifying out there that would allow someone to be frozen in fear. Despite what was going on, I didn't freeze; I did the exact opposite. I suppose Sarah froze, but I didn't have the time to notice. I grabbed hold of her and pulled her with me. I think in some part of my mind I knew I was heading towards the back exit, but I think my major concern was putting myself and Sarah as far away from the creatures in the front door as possible. Perhaps it was only luck that allowed me to find that back door and fling it open madly, dragging my beloved wife behind me. Or maybe I did have an idea of what was going on.

I still don't know.

I looked left, right, and left again, panicking. My mind raced. Was there anywhere safe? Was there anywhere we could go? I didn't know, but I knew where I had to go. One single thought consumed me, and it was the thought of my baby girl resting in her crib while this madness occurred.

"Come on," I yelled, tugging on Sarah's arm and dragging her towards the alley's exit.

We stopped together when we reached the sidewalk. There was so much chaos. People ran, terrorized, the walking dead following closely behind. Just when someone thought they had escaped, they ran right into the arms of another. I saw this happen to a young man who was easily outrunning them, but when he looked back, just for a second, a split second, he was grabbed by a man in a construction hat. The larger man grasped the teenager's shoulders and bit deeply into his neck, spraying blood and ripping flesh.

Now I had frozen, but my mind kept churning. I seemed to see everything that happened. I saw a truck blazing through the street ran over everyone who stood in its path, living or dead. I saw people pulled down by mobs of the creatures. I saw their guts pulled from their stomachs as the creatures gorged upon the entrails.

"We can't stand here like idiots," I said, pulling once again on Sarah's arms.

I moved down the street, but I couldn't block out the horrors around me. Across the street, we passed a person standing on top of a car, a handful of people on the ground below pawing and grabbing for him. He desperately tried to keep himself free, but I knew he couldn't keep going forever. We kept moving on; we couldn't help him. I never stayed to find out what happened to that man, but I could form a reasonable enough guess.

"Sam!" Sarah called, pulling me back. Right in front of me, a body smacked against the pavement. I heard the bones crush; I felt the blood spatter against my clothes. My eyes pointed towards the sky, and I saw that the building I was next to had at least fifteen stories to its mass. Assuming that they had flung themselves from the roof, they certainly had fallen from a large drop.

I found myself staring at it, and I probably would have had Sarah not gently tugged on my arm. "Let's go, Sam," she whispered in my ear. "Some of them are starting to pay attention to us."

I looked around and saw she was right. A thin woman with her black hair dangling in her face began shuffling towards us, followed by a bald man in a green, torn sweater. Sarah grabbed my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine. I gave her my most reassuring smile, my own way of saying everything will be alright, I'll take care of you. She didn't return the smile, but I saw her eyes were much gentler.

We quickened our pace. The further we went, the more joined in the chase. Two became five, five became ten, and ten became fifteen. They came out of buildings, out of alleys, and others seemed to come alive as we went by them. We quickened our pace again, turning a jog into a run.

The crowd chased us, and we ran as fast as we could. It seemed so hopeless, everywhere we went there were more to chase us. We could find no escape, and both of us were quickly growing tired. Not to mention, Sarah couldn't maneuver well in her high heels. We rounded a corner and I was knocked to the ground. Sarah fell next to me, crying softly.

A large man with a bulbous gut stood before us. Drool and blood surrounded his mouth, and he stared at us with his mouth hung open, eyes blank, almost like a complete imbecile. We both knew this man was one of them; we could see it in the eyes. Sarah kicked out with one leg, catching the man in the knee. He fell to one knee, and before he could stand again I quickly pushed myself up, planted a leg on his thick chest and kicked him to the ground.

"Good job," I said as I picked Sarah off the ground. When she was off the ground, I held her in my arms again. Then I saw hope. It was in the shape of a police cruiser. Its lights weren't flashing, but I could not mistake it. I laughed with joy. "Sarah, there's a police officer. We're saved!"

We ran towards the cruiser, forgetting completely of the pain in our legs and the tightness of our chests. They could protect us. They could take us somewhere safe. We could forget this nightmare.

As we approached the vehicle, closer and closer, I realized that dream was over.

The police officer was dead, slumped against the rear tire, blood spilling onto his chest from the cleft in his neck. A shotgun rested in his lap, and I didn't hesitate to take it. After all, he wouldn't need it any time soon.

"Do you know how to use that?" Sarah asked behind me.

"Nope," I answered truthfully. "I've never used one of these before, but I've seen them used in movies before. Also, I've written a few stories where the characters use guns like these, so I did some research. I should be able to figure it out."

I grabbed the gun in one hand and began searching the officer with the other. I found a pistol and grabbed that as well. "Here," I said, holding the pistol out to Sarah. "Take this. I want you to be safe." She voiced no objections, and I began searching the body for ammunition. I found a couple clips for the handgun and a box of shotgun shells near his body. I scooped them up and dumped them into my pant pockets.

Then, I heard a soft moan, a creaking noise from deep within the throat. I looked up and saw the officer staring directly into my eyes with his own empty pair. Our faces were so close I could smell his fetid breath.

"Whoa!" I pushed myself away from him, but he grabbed my ankle. I could feel his skin, cold and clammy, the touch of death. I didn't know what to do, so I acted without thought. I grabbed the shotgun with both hands and brought down the butt, smashing the officer in the face. It didn't deter him much, so I brought it down again, and again. By the time his hand relinquished its hold on me, his face was a bloody pulp.

I tried calming myself, but my heart seemed like it was beating so fast it would explode right in my chest.

"Give me the keys," Sarah said. "You're in no shape to drive."

I didn't object, only grabbed the keys from the pockets of the officer's (hopefully) still body and handed them to her. She climbed in the driver's seat, and I moved to the passenger's side. The crowd of undead had gained a lot of ground in the time I had grabbed the guns and keys. A couple had even managed to reach the car. A younger man in a long-sleeved shirt blocked my access to the car. I raised the shotgun to my shoulder. Preparing for the recoil, I fired. The gun slammed hard against my shoulder, and the recoil caused the shot to sail far too high. Gritting my teeth, I pumped another round into the gun, and fired again, making sure to keep the gun as level as possible. It worked. The shot tore into the man's chest, leveling him.

Quickly, before any others could gain any ground, I opened the door and slid in. "Go, go, go!" The tires squealed, and the cruiser took off. Sarah weaved the car side to side, doing her best to avoid hitting any of the people, and she did a great job of it too. She hit a few of the undead, but they rolled under, causing the car to jolt. I resisted the urge to look back and see what remained of them.

Now with a chance to focus, a chance to not worry about being torn apart, I reached into my pants pockets and pulled out my cell phone. I quickly dialed the phone number to Sarah and mine's apartment.

Please, God, let everything be alright, I begged. I don't know what I would do without Madison. She's my world, my everything. I thought back on the six months that I had spent with her. Every moment more joyful than the last. She had to be alright. Everything had to be fine.

I kept telling that to myself as the phone rang. One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings. Just as I was about to give up all hope, I heard someone on the other end pick up, but no one said anything.

"Hello?" I said excitedly. "Lori? Lori is that you?"

"Mr. Whitman?"

"Yes! Oh, thank God, Lori!" I said with relief. Then I realized I was getting ahead of myself. Just because she said something didn't mean everything was alright. "Listen; are you and the baby okay? Are there people in the apartment with you?"

Lori took a second to answer. "Yes…we're alright— "

I sighed with relief, smiling with joy.

"— but there's some people out in the hall, and they're trying to get in." I felt my smile turn into a countenance of terror. Lori sobbed on the other end before continuing. "I heard screams, Mr. Whitman! People in the other apartments. I think…I think they killed them!!" She broke down, and I heard her painful sobs. Just listening to them on the phone split my heart.

"We're coming home," I said. "Until then make sure the door is barricaded. Then take Madison and hide. Keep the phone with you; I'll call you when we get there. Can you do that for me, Lori?"

No answer.

"Can you do that Lori?!" I repeated, louder.

"Yes… Yes, I can do that."

"Alright, good girl. We'll be there soon." I hung up the phone, and at that moment I felt something strange. It felt like hanging up the phone had sealed the fate of that young girl. Almost like I had finished talking to her for the last time.

I shook myself of that strange feeling.

"Is everything okay?" Sarah asked.

I looked at her face, twisted with concern and worry, and I realized her I couldn't tell her everything. The worry itself might kill her, so I lied a little. I said nothing about the screams Lori had heard.

"They're completely fine," I said. "I told Lori to barricade the door and hide, just in case, and that we are on the way back."

"Sam, I'm worried."

"Don't be," I said, rubbing her arm gently. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll get there soon, and then we can leave with Madison. Get the hell out of Dodge."

She looked over at me for a second, and I could see that I had reassured her. I smiled and she smiled back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. "Sarah!! Look out!!"

What if I hadn't distracted her? What if we'd have reacted quicker? What would have happened then? Would things have changed? Those were the questions I kept asking myself, answers I would never know. Still, I can't help but wonder if things would be different if we never hit that other car.

It came from the intersection, driving quickly, faster than us. Neither Sarah nor I saw it until it was too late. She slammed on the brakes, but it was far too late. We slammed into its driver's side. My body rocked forward but was stopped by the airbag. I heard the crunch of metal. Then everything was quiet for a moment. I moaned, and my moan was answered by more.

"Son of a bitch!" I hissed, trying to free myself of the seatbelt. I looked over to Sarah. Her face was buried in her own airbag, but she wasn't moving. "Aww, shit!" I cursed, already feeling the tears sting my eyes. "Sarah?! Sarah?! Are you alright?!" I managed to free myself. I kicked the door open, stepping out with the shotgun in my hands.

The world was still spinning slightly, but I could still see well. I couldn't tell where exactly we were, but at that moment, it didn't matter to me at all. Most of my attention was on the crowd of people drawing close.

"Shit!" I cursed again, working my way over to Sarah. The door had been crunched in the crash, making it difficult to open. I pulled and pulled on the handle, but nothing came of it. I was too weak. I looked over my shoulder and saw the crowd moving forward. I raised the shotgun again, using it as a club. I smashed the window once— nothing— twice— the glass spider webbed— three times— the window looked ready to give— and four times— it finally shattered.

"Sarah?" I said, reaching through and shaking her shoulders. Tears began to run down my face. "Sarah? Please get up!"

I looked over my shoulder. Now, one of the zombies, a woman wearing a blue sweater and her hair in a ponytail led the assault. I fired, the bullet from the shotgun tearing into her chest and knocking her to the ground. I turned back to Sarah.

"Please, Sarah! Please get up!" I slapped her across the face a couple times, and then I heard the most beautiful sound I've ever heard a soft whimper escaped her throat. "Oh thank, God! Thank, God!!" I reached through the car window, hugging and kissing her head. "I thought I lost you!"

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"We hit another car," I said. "Can you move? We have to get out of here." I looked over my shoulder and saw the crowd was getting far too close. Any closer and the two of us would have nowhere left to go. Then, in the crowd, I saw something horrifying. The woman with the ponytail and the blue sweater was back up. There was a large cavity in her chest, right where I shot her, but she still kept moving like she didn't feel a thing.

My mind raced. How could this be? I shot her. She should be dead, yet there she was.

I pumped another round into my gun and fired into the crowd. The shot lodged itself in man's large gut. He fell backwards, knocking more down. To my horror, he slid back onto his feet, ready to go another round. I looked back and saw Sarah gingerly climbing out of the window. I had to protect her; I couldn't let anything happen to her because of me.

I raised the gun to my shoulder once again, pumping it. I had to find a way to kill these things, and to do so, I'd have to do some experimenting. I'd have to try to kill it in a different way. I thought of the one sure fire way to kill something, and raised the gun slightly, pointing it at the rotting face of the closest zombie. I felt the gun kick, as my finger twitched on the trigger. There was an explosion of blood and bone, and the body fell to the ground, not moving an inch.

Smiling triumphantly, I fired again, taking off the head of another. I pumped and pulled the trigger again, but there was no roar, no kick, just an empty click.

"Damn!"

I reached in my pocket and pulled out some shells. I looked over the gun quickly, trying to find out how to load it. I couldn't figure it out. Growing frantic, I looked up at the crowd moving closer and back to the gun in my hands. The leader of the group, an overweight woman with fiery red hair, reached out towards me, and I realized I was screwed. I raised the shotgun up, ready to smash her with the butt of the gun just to defend myself. Before I could swing the gun down, a shot rang out. I felt blood spill across my face as the large woman fell to her knees, a hole visible in her head.

I looked right and saw Sarah standing next to the car, pistol in hand.

"Great shot," I said. Moving towards her, I gave her a kiss. "I'm so glad you're alright. Come on, let's go."

"What about the other driver?" she asked as I dragged her as far away from the gathering horde of the undead as I could.

My eyes darted to the other car. Through the shattered glass and crunched metal, I saw a younger man with short black hair and a goatee. His neck was twisted awkwardly, and his head hung loosely on his shoulders. I grimaced at the sight.

"We don't have to worry about him," I said softly. "It's too late for that."

"Oh, God."

We moved on, desperate to make it home.

I have no idea how long it took us to move through the streets and arrive at our apartment building. Time seemed to blur as I passed through streets, running from the dead and looking at the horror and destruction around me. The whole time we were running I could think only of my six-month old baby, Madison. I knew Sarah was thinking the same, for the closer we got, the faster she moved. When we reached our street, both of us were sprinting, feet stomping on concrete.

We stood, looking up at our tall apartment building.

"Do you think— " Sarah started.

"We'll have to see," I said. I took her hand in mine and climbed up the steps and into the building.

We walked through the halls quickly, but quietly. I listened for any sign of life, but I didn't hear any. We walked towards the stairs, and on our way we passed a room with the door wide open. I wish I would have not looked in there, but my eyes were drawn to the open door.

Inside, I saw an old man clutched in the arms of a younger man with blond hair. Blood flowed from the older man's neck, and the younger man eagerly ripped flesh from his counterpart's neck. I don't know how I knew it, but I could tell the man with blond hair was the son of the older man. And the worst fact of it all, the son didn't look like the undead Sarah and I had encountered. In fact, he looked normal, no physical injuries at all.

What would make someone do something like that? What would make someone eat their own father? What would turn a son into a murdering, flesh-eater?

I shut the door. The door creaked right before it shut, and the son turned towards me. In the space between the door and the frame, I saw his eyes, white as ash. A shiver crawled up my spine, and I was thankful to have that door shut.

"What was it?" Sarah asked.

"Nothing…nothing at all."

I returned to her side and we climbed the stairs. Realizing how close we were, I took them two at a time. So close. In a moment, I could feel my baby girl in my arms.

I reached the fourth floor (our floor) and flung open the door. I stopped immediately. In this hall there were five undead. At the sound of the door opening, they all turned their rotting countenances towards me. I now took the time to look over my shotgun again. I noticed a feed on the side and immediately began to feed six shells in. I heard Sarah's feet stomping on the stairs as she ascended behind me, but the sound seemed so distant; I was too focused on the now.

With the last shell in, I pumped the gun. Raising it to my shoulder, I fired. A head exploded, and I pumped again. I kept firing and pumping, firing and pumping, receiving some sort of sick satisfaction from the skulls that exploded and the blood that painted the walls.

The last one fell right as Sarah reached me. She gasped slightly at the carnage in the hall. Then we rushed towards our apartment, leaping over the bodies strewn about the hall from my battle. As I moved over the last of the bodies, turning the corner, I saw the most horrifying sight; the apartment door was wide open.

"Madison! No!"

I ran faster than I've ever ran before, Sarah right behind me.

My mind raced with possibilities, each more horrifying than the last. I begged to God again. Please, don't take my baby away. Please let her be alright. I'd give anything, anything just to hold her again.

When I came into the apartment, things didn't look good. Furniture was strewn about, blood was spilt on the ground, and glass had been shattered.

"Lori!" I called out, already feeling tears welling up inside me. "Can you hear me? Are you there? Lori!"

Sarah immediately took off for Madison's room. She was out of sight for only a moment before I heard a piercing shriek.

"Oh God."

I rushed to her aid, already knowing what I would find. Still, even with the most gifted imagination, it's difficult to picture something as awful and horrifying as the truth. As soon as I came into the room, my legs lost all their strength, sending me to my knees. My mouth moved to form words, but all that came out were unintelligible jabber. I felt like I had been stricken dumb.

Sarah was weeping. Actually, weeping wasn't quite the word for it. She was in hysterics. Tears rolled down her face like a gushing waterfall. Clutched in her arms was a small package wrapped in white linen, or what used to be white linen. Sarah was on her knees, rocking back and forth and speaking something so garbled it sounded like an alien language.

"Is that her?" I asked, my voice sounding like it was coming from the other side of the world.

No answer but another painful howl, and that was all the answer I needed. My eyes burned from the tears, and I ran my hands through my hair. I fell on all floors, screaming in pain.

How could this have happened? My mind began to run through what life would have been like with Madison. I saw her walking for the first time with Sarah and me cheering her on. I saw me telling her a bed-time story. I saw her riding away on the yellow school bus on her first day of school. I saw her in her graduation gown. The pain was immense, worse than the time I broke my leg in a car accident. This was the kind of pain that knew no bounds; the kind that ripped your heart in half.

My forehead touched the floor, and I lay there on the ground crying, tasting my bitter tears.

"Ahhhh…"

I instantly recognized that moan. I looked up, and through my blurry eyes I saw the body of Lori rise above my wife. Her throat had been ripped out, and her stomach had been torn open, letting her guts hang loose and free. She moved for my wife, but Sarah didn't notice. She was still rocking and muttering, muttering and rocking.

I stood, wiping the tears from my eyes with my sleeve. I didn't know how Lori had turned, but I didn't care. I wouldn't let the rest of my family be killed by these creatures. I picked up my shotgun and aimed high, making sure I wouldn't hit my wife at all. I felt all the rage inside me build up. The tears stopped flowing, but the hate didn't. I didn't see the creature before me as Lori the baby-sitter anymore. I only saw the undead that had killed so many, that had killed my daughter. I screamed in hatred as I fired my gun. The shot caught her right at the top of the skull, leaving the bottom half of her head, but taking off the top.

Blood and brain matter fell onto Sarah, but she didn't notice.

xXxXx

"That was when I knew she was gone," Sam said, finishing his horrible tale. "Ever since then she hasn't said a word. In fact, she's barely down anything at all. It's like she lost her soul with her daughter. Nothing left than a hollow shell." He sighed. "Sometimes I imagine she's one of them outside. Just hasn't gotten to the part where she eats people."

Drew and Christie said nothing. There was nothing that could be said.

Finally, Drew moved around the table and sat next to Sam, placing a comforting hand on Sam's shoulders. "Nothing like that ever should have happened," he said. "That's the Goddamn truth."

Sam sniffled, wiping his eyes. "I know. I just can't stop beating myself up over it. What if we had gotten there faster? What if we had never left the house? I could still be holding her in my arms. Sarah wouldn't be a…a zombie."

"Listen," Christie said. "You had no idea something like this would happen. No one ever would have guessed that the dead would walk again. It's the stuff of science-fiction. As for getting there faster, you did your best to get there. You cared, and you risked your life to reach her. There was nothing more you could do." She placed her hand on Sam's.

"It's weird," Sam finally said. "I've never even met you guys before, but I already feel like I've known you all my life, like we were best friends. Isn't funny how a catastrophe like this can bring people together?"

Drew opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by a loud gunshot that echoed throughout the school.

Drew stood up, thinking a single thought. "Do you think they found a way in?"

All three of them exchanged a look before taking off towards the main hallway. The other survivors looked around in fear, unwilling to believe their sanctuary had been shattered.

A/N: Sorry to dissapoint those expecting some direct resolution to the last chapter, but I promise that will come next chapter. Cross my heart and all that shebang. Right now, I wanted to try something a little different. It's more of like an intermission chapter, but I had fun doing it. I'm hoping for some critique if possible on my writing this time around. I haven't written much in first person, but it is a skill I want to improve on. Therefore, I'd appreciate any help I could get. Anyways, thanks again for reading and I'll see you soon I guess.

Oh, one last thing. I'll give a shout-out to TitansFan18 for being giving the 100th review. Thats a big landmark, and I honestly never thought I'd reach it. As promised, I'll send you a copy of the next chapter before it goes up, but I'm going to need you to give me your email address. If you just email the one address in my profile and tell me what format you want it in, I'll be glad to send it.