Machine guns blazed in the distance. People had heard the word, and they were out on the streets, searching for the trucks that Nemesis had promised them. Indeed, there were trucks filled with food left around the city. But the scene around those trucks turned into a bloodbath. The military tried to secure some of those sites, but civilians fought back relentlessly. People were becoming more fearless than ever before. Then at the trucks that were unguarded by the military, people fought each other savagely for the food that was inside. Looking upon the scene, the people looked no different to the infected creatures, gathered in a frenzied crowd, thrashing and clawing. The savagery of human nature was in full display. By the end of the day, bodies lay strewn across the roads – shot, stabbed, and bludgeoned. And when it rained, the gutters ran red.

That day, the military saw the power of the people, and they were afraid. They were afraid because they knew this was only the beginning. And they realised they were no longer the only ones who were effectively armed. An increasing number of civilians had guns, explosives, and destructive tools created by some crooked inventor in a dark and seedy workshop in some basement. Some of the guns on the streets were the military's own, from shipments that had been stolen and then sold in the black market to any man, woman or child that had anything worth trading. The rotten underbelly of the city was booming, and the military were losing control. One by the one, the great cities fell, not to the infection but to a virus far more deadly – human nature.


On one of the following nights, Vasiliy approached Quinlan in the upstairs of the warehouse. The door to Quinlan's room was open for the first time, and Vasiliy peeked inside, expecting to see secrets and unusual items – a collection of mankind's history through the ages and the places that Quinlan had seen. But instead, Vasiliy saw nothing but bare walls, a bed, which Quinlan hardly ever slept in, and a plain old dresser with three drawers and whatever that was inside them; perhaps nothing at all. Perhaps the only thing hidden in that room were his thoughts and memories. That was enough of a reason to keep anyone out. Quinlan had no belongings. He had come to this city with nothing but the clothes on his back, the weapons in his hands, and a young African girl who was as much of a mystery herself. Just like all the places before this, Quinlan would come with nothing, and leave with nothing; a drifter with no attachments, only temporary solaces that he would always eventually leave behind.

Although Quinlan's back was turned as he sat on the bed, running a whetstone down the blade of his sword, he was aware of Vasiliy standing at the door. He stopped his action and turned his head slightly. Vasiliy knew his presence was noted.

"Hey… uh… you haven't heard from Eph, have you?" Vasiliy asked, standing in the open doorway.

"Why would I have heard from Ephraim?" Quinlan asked, as he continued to the glide the fine stone down the length of his blade.

"I don't know, you go out there sometimes, don't you?" Vasiliy shrugged. "Anyway, he's not answering his phone. I haven't been able to get onto him for days."

"I have not heard from him."

There was a look of worry on Vasiliy's face, but then he suddenly lit up. "Oh! Maybe ask his new sweetheart. She might know something."

"Who?" Quinlan perplexed, standing up with the blade in his hand and turning to face Vasiliy.

"You know, the blind girl… Mia. The one he's so crazy about. She's the one that got him into this mess anyway. What a man wouldn't do for a pretty girl, eh?" Vasiliy started to run his mouth again. "Maybe he's with her. Maybe that's why he's not answering his phone, if you know what I mean," Vasiliy winked at Quinlan.

Quinlan stared at him blankly.

"I guess you don't know what I mean," Vasiliy sighed, feeling like he was talking to a brick wall. He suddenly realized how much he missed human company.

Although Quinlan's expression was blank, his thoughts were not. Vasiliy's words somehow rang a loud bell in his head, and he suddenly found himself fixated on the idea of Doctor Goodweather's affections for Mia. It was a strange thing for Quinlan to ponder, but more strange that it bothered him in a way that he could not rationalise. And still, the more troubling thought that pursued was that perhaps she returned those affections. After all, their purposes were entwined by their work, and through that, they perhaps shared more than just ideas, but also sentiments. The smallest expression of irritation showed on Quinlan's face for just a brief second.

"I will ask her," said Quinlan, equipping his weapons before pushing past Vasiliy and walking out of the room.

Malaika heard Quinlan approaching and she quickly picked up the book on the pillow beside her, turning to a random page and holding the book over her as she lay on her back. She paid no attention to Quinlan as he entered the room and walked towards her.

"Come on, let's go," said Quinlan, standing over her bed.

Malaika ignored him. Quinlan reached down and snatched the book from her hands. That got her attention. She frowned.

"I said let's go," Quinlan repeated.

"I am not going anywhere," Malaika grumbled.

"Alright then, give me the keys." Quinlan held out his hand.

Malaika rolled over on the bed and turned her back to him. Quinlan knew she was angry with him. It was not her fault – she did not know how to express fear or grief; only anger. It was her way of coping. It always had been. Quinlan sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He did not speak. He knew if he waited long enough, she would eventually give in. He looked down at the book in his hands that he took from her; it was a bible, written in Swahili. Its pages were yellow and crumpled, and the leather cover was faded and torn around the edges. It was the same book she had carried with her since she was a child. Quinlan aimlessly flipped through the pages and then gently tossed the book onto the bed.

"I really thought you were gone this time," Malaika finally said without turning around.

"And what if I was?"

"Then I would have killed him!"

"Foolish child," Quinlan murmured. "One of these days, I will be gone. And you will suddenly find yourself alone. But it will be your choice, just like the choice you made the other day. Let me tell you something – those who fight alongside you now are all that you will have left when I am gone. Do not forget that."

Quinlan stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. Malaika still did not turn, but he could hear the silent workings of her mind. He knew her all too well. Quinlan paused in the doorway. "Are you coming or not?"


It was two hours after sunset when Quinlan arrived at Mia's apartment. She opened the door with a cheerful smile. Something about her seemed different now. She seemed… alive.

"You decided to knock this time," she teased.

"I figured it is less effort," Quinlan replied.

She stepped aside as in invitation for him to come in, and Quinlan obliged without a second thought. He knew he had broken his vow to stay away from her. He already did that night when his injuries weakened his will and he found himself at her door. And then somehow he found himself by her side, for a long time without a single protest from his mind. He learned something about her that night; something that he felt reluctantly drawn to. She shared with him a glimpse of her heart and the pain it carried, and Quinlan didn't even realize that it was now impossible to stay away. Anyhow, he told himself he was there for a different reason this time. He needed to see her for an important matter; it was simply duty, nothing more.

He followed her into the kitchen where she picked up a mug of hot soup from the bench. She wrapped her hands tightly around the mug for warmth, as she stood leaning her back against the bench.

"Your injuries have healed," she noted, sipping from the mug in her hands.

"Yes."

"You know, you really scared me that night," she grouched.

"I apologize," said Quinlan. "I should not have come into your home."

"No, I mean your injuries. You sounded pretty bad... It scared me…" The cold sent a shiver down her spine. She took another sip of the warm liquid and felt its heat disperse through her body. "You don't have to apologize for coming here. I'm glad you did," she smiled.

Before Quinlan's loss for words became apparent, Mia suddenly remembered something. "Oh," she put down the mug and hurried out of the room. A moment later she returned with a black trench coat folded over her arm. "You left this the other night," she blushed at the memory of his kind gesture. "I guess that's why you're here?"

"No, I came here to ask about Doctor Goodweather," said Quinlan, taking the coat from her.

"What about him?" Mia puzzled.

"Have you heard from him recently?"

A look of concern swept across Mia's face. "No, I was going to ask you the same thing. He hasn't been answering his phone. I just assumed he was with you guys, you know, dealing with everything that's been happening around here."

"He has not returned from the facility since the time you saw him."

"What?" Mia gasped with sudden dread.

Quinlan's mind processed the possibilities. "Looks like we are going for a drive," he sighed.


The nights were no longer silent. Out on the streets, vandals and rioters indulged in their appetite for destruction, while gangs conducted their shady dealings on street corners, and the more desperate criminals would go as far as to kill any man they see for the clothes on his back.

"[This is just like home]," Malaika muttered as she looked out the window.

Mia could hear the sounds outside – sounds of the night, awake with violence. She sat nervously on the edge of the seat, leaning forward through the middle of the car. Without realising, her hand was clutching the back of Quinlan's seat, and her fingers had nestled themselves behind Quinlan's shoulder and the seatback. She could feel the weight of his body against her hand, and the familiar fabric of his coat. Without her sight, the slightest touch provided a source of comfort.

As Quinlan looked out the window, something in the side mirror caught his attention. He noticed another car some distance behind them, driving quietly with its lights off, and its black colour camouflaged in the darkness of the night. He watched this car as they continued to drive, and it soon became apparent that it was following them, turning all the same corners.

"We're being followed," said Quinlan.

"Soldiers?" Mia asked.

"No. It is not a military vehicle."

If Quinlan had been by himself, he would have stopped the car simply out of curiosity. If someone was following him with ill intentions, then let them come forth with those intentions. It would only be their bad luck. But that night, he would not take the risk.

"[What shall I do?]"

"Keep driving," Quinlan instructed.

As they started to speed up, so did the car behind them. Malaika grew anxious. Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal. The car behind them seemed to realize it had been detected and it altogether gave up on subtlety as it suddenly blared its engine and quickly closed the distance. It was now riding right on their tail. Malaika continued to press down on the gas, her eyes darting back and forth between the road and the rear-view mirror.

Mia could tell they were now picking up a lot of speed. She was afraid, but she remained calm. "If it's not the military then it has to be street thugs, right? Do you think they just want the car?"

"Are they not in a car of their own?" Quinlan countered somewhat sarcastically.

"Well look how many cars you guys have!" Mia retorted.

Suddenly, the wheels screeched as the car turned a tight corner at full speed, throwing Quinlan and Mia hard against the doors beside them. Mia let out a cry as her body slammed into the door. She quickly sat back in the seat and reached for the seatbelt, her hands fumbling clumsily from the adrenaline. The car behind them reacted swiftly and took the same corner without losing any distance.

"Do not be reckless," Quinlan told Malaika. "They will not slow."

"How many of them are there?" Mia asked.

"I do not have a clear view."

"Maybe we can take them," Mia suggested.

Quinlan did not expect her to say such a thing. "We?"

Mia took her gun out of her pocket to show Quinlan that she was ready to fight if it came down to it. The same idea had crossed Quinlan's mind – to simply stop the car and face whoever was inside, except there was never a 'we' – only him. However, he soon dismissed the idea as he feared the possibility that it was him inside that car – the German. And if he ever got his hands on the two that were with Quinlan... Quinlan clenched his fists.

Malaika continued to weave through the smaller streets in hopes of losing the other car, however one wrong turn would find her in a dead end street that lead right to the brick wall of a large building. She slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt.

"Kuma nina!" she growled under her breath in a guttural tone.

There was no way out. The other car followed them into the street and slowed to a calm stop just behind them. The car turned off its engine and sat there, silent and still. There was no movement from the car. It appeared to just stare at them, watching and waiting.

"Stay inside the car, both of you." Quinlan instructed, as he opened his door to get out.

Mia put her hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop and turn to her. "Be careful," she whispered, before letting him go.

Quinlan looked at her for a moment, and then turned to Malaika. "[At the first sign of trouble, I want you to take the car and drive away from here, do you understand?]"

"[I can stay and fight...]"

Quinlan grabbed her arm forcefully. "[It is not just your own life you are putting in danger because of your foolish recklessness!]" he spat with sudden infuriation, pulling her in and forcing her to look upon his intense face. "[Do as I say!]"

Malaika was startled by his reaction. She nodded speechlessly in compliance, however her brows were furrowed and she was displeased with him for yet another reason. Quinlan released her arm. His eyes darted briefly at Mia before he proceeded to get out of the car.

Quinlan stepped out onto the dark street and pulled his hood over his head. He walked towards the mysterious black car with the dark windows, and stood in front of it. The misty vapors from his warm breaths could be seen in the cold air, evaporating from the shadows beneath his hood. And behind the mist was a pair of glowing eyes that showed intent to kill. His hands were by his side, ready to reach for his guns. Then, one of the rear doors of the mysterious car slowly opened.