Even as his heart began to race, Stan's first thought stupidly was the wind. Must be the wind. Maybe a cat. Even half asleep, he knew better. It seemed that things couldn't go right for even a second.

Then the hinges of the musty couch squeaked as something shifted its weight over them. A small moan, guttural with the pressing reluctance of someone unwillingly roused from a deep sleep, filled the silence. The crackling pop of stretching still muscles, cracking necks. Another moan, rich with satisfaction.

Stan remained still as ice. Ike rested against his chest, nuzzled into his left arm, but Stan's right arm was still free. Carefully, so slowly he was barely moving at all, Stan reached for the knife tucked in his boot.

An enormous yawn came from behind him, and the couch creaked again.

Kenny wasn't bitten

This time

But he might still be infected

Still, something intrusive niggled at the back of Stan's mind. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, until he heard a loud, curious sniff. Long and deep, a starving predator whose jaw dripped with saliva. Followed by a small, satisfied moan. Hardly there, but giddy with elation.

Zombies don't do that

And as though Stan had said the thought aloud, the noise stopped. An uncomfortable prickling spread over Stan's skin and he broke into a sweat. The eerie sensation that he was being watched grew. Stan's breath lept to his throat. The knife trembled in his hand, slippery in his palms.

"Stan?"

Stan's heart stopped.

The voice was low and gravelly, like a machine rusted from years of disuse. But there was no doubt that it was Kenny's. The boy sounded far off, like he was unsure whether he was still dreaming. There was a pause, presumably for Stan's response. But Stan couldn't find his voice. He didn't dare.

He was dead

He stopped breathing

I saw

But then Stan remembered another time, one where for a sickening moment, Kenny had stopped breathing. The first time he'd gotten bitten. Way back into a seeming distant past, when Stan and Kenny had been fooling around near the woods. Fighting. Stan hitting too hard, sending Kenny reeling.

The zombie sinking its teeth into Kenny.

Kenny flitting into unconsciousness.

He should have been dead

There was another long, apprehensive inhalation.

"Stan…" Kenny coughed, a thick rasp. Still hardly there. "Stan…you smell…so good…"

Two fingers tapped on Stan's shoulder, followed by an affectionate hand. It gave a hard squeeze.

"…I know you're there…Stan…"

Another sniff.

"And…and Ike, too…"

Electricity pumped through Stan's veins at the boy's name. He couldn't remain silent, play stupid any longer. There was something unsettling in Kenny's voice.

He cleared his throat. Ike stirred, but didn't wake.

"Yeah, Kenny. It's me." Just more than a whisper, Stan still had to control his voice to keep from sounding scared. He admonished himself for the feeling. After all, it was still Kenny. He even knew Stan's name.

"Buddy…" Stan could hear the smile on Kenny's face. The hand on his shoulder gave him a friendly, if not somewhat violent, shake. "I…thought you might be dead. You didn't say anything."

"We thought you were dead," Stan retorted, careful to keep his voice from rising. "You stopped breathing. We tried to save you…Kenny. You died."

"Really? I don't remember."

"You…died." Nothing was adding up, everything tumbled in a whirlwind while Stan tried to make sense of it. "You…you stopped breathing."

Kenny laughed, a pleasant, hair-raising sound. "Right, sure I did. Ah fuck, I'm so stiff." More movement as Kenny stretched, his warm hand pressing further into Stan's shoulder. "And fuck me, I'm so hungry."

"But you're alive. Kenny, you're talking to me."

"Sure am, champ. God, is there nothing to eat in here?" Kenny's voice rose.

"Are you- are you even okay? You got shot. In the stomach. Fuck."

"I'm fine, I'm just…starving, dude.." Kenny contemplated for a moment. "Hmmm…maybe…it's the fucking smell, dude. You're just…driving me crazy right now."

Dread stirred. "Me?"

"Yeah…Christ…"

Stan stifled the nervous laugh creeping up his throat. Here, in this dark enclosed storage unit, it was disturbing how close Kenny seemed. "What-what do you mean?"

"Like…man…" Kenny's voice crawled right into Stan's ear. "Keep using that deodorant, its doing wonders for you."

"Kenny," demanded Stan, his nerves surmounting. "I think you need to get outside. Now."

"God, you're right…you're right…" But Kenny didn't sound quite convinced. If anything he seemed closer, his scratchy voice reverberating right down Stan's spine. "I know, I know…it's just…I really…don't want to."

Hot breath warmed Stan's ear.

This is wrong

Kenny's not himself

hungry

Sharp teeth grazed the sensitive lobe.

hungry for

for

Stan was suddenly aware of Ike, sleeping all unaware against his chest like a child.

"Stan…" Barely a whisper, the word seemed to slip right into Stan's mind. "I can't…it's just... I can't…think…"

"Then think about this," said Stan, his courage rushing back in a great swell. "I have a knife in my boot. Kenny. Do-you-hear-me? I will protect myself, even from you."

"Wha…?" Kenny's voice floated high in humoured disbelief. "Nah…I ain't a threat…c'mon dude…"

Slowly, Stan bent his knee and edged his foot closer. The stiff blade of the dagger tucked in his boot pressed again his ankle, assuring him of its presence.

"Kenny, this is your last chance. Listen to me. Get the fuck out."

"Uh, Let me think about that…"

Very close now. Warm breath exhaled into Stan's neck. Something slick and wet grazed the flesh there.

Stan's heart pounded, a caged bird yearning for freedom.

Infected

And with a great sudden rush, all Stan's old reflexes seemed to awaken into his veins. One hand slipped into his boot to retrieve the dagger while his other hugged Ike tight, keeping the boy close to his body. He rolled forward, surely jolting Ike awake, but that was a small concern. As he ducked he whipped his knife out with a slick shing. All one swift fluid movement that left Stan's head swimming as he crouched upward. But further from Kenny.

Ike mumbled, noise scrunched, eyes bleary. "Wha…what?"

"Shh, it's cool Ike," Stan lied. "Everything's just fine."

But back over by the couch, Kenny grew frantic. Cursing under his breath in a rapid, husky rattle of words.

"Dick mother fucking fuck dick- Stan- Stan I can't…you smell so good I-I just…there's something wrong with me, I fucking swear, I can't-". There was as strange sound as Kenny's words cut off, like he was tearing into a pillow with his teeth. Ripping fabric and stifled snarling filled the air.

Blinking into the darkness around him, Stan was desperate for an escape. He wasn't sure where he was in the dark storage room, but he prayed he was closer to the garage door than the couch. Would he have to lift it up himself? Or maybe the chain still worked, he'd pull on that and reel the door up.

"Stan," Ike was more alert, pressing insistently against Stan's chest with a small hand. "Stan, what's going on? Who…who else is here?"

"Not now Ike."

"Ike." Kenny's tone softened when he addressed the boy, but he was still choking out words. "Ike, listen to Stan- listen-"

"No…Kenny?"

"Ike," Stan interrupted, "How do we get the door open?"

Ike's breathe was going at hyper speed. Stan wasn't even sure if he was listening.

"Ike, the door. Ike. Ike!"

Fuck it, thought Stan. Desperate to find the metal chain, he scrambled to his feet and stretched his fingers into the unknowing darkness. Invisible land mines all over the cluttered floor, waiting to trip his feet and send him sprawling, so Stan crept with caution. He couldn't hear Kenny anymore either. Whether that was good or bad, it wasn't so clear yet.

"Kenny!" Stan shouted, "Stay on the couch, stay there or I will fucking murder you! Hear me?!"

Fingers brushed the cool metal grates of the garage door, and Stan followed alongside it until he grasped the chain, his heart racing. If this didn't work, someone was going to die.

Stan tugged down with all his might.

There was a horrendous creak as the door crawled upwards, a whiff of night air leaking into the stuffy room. The coolness Stan inhaled renewed his muscles, and he pulled harder. The door must have weighed at least a ton of solid metal, but to Stan's adrenaline-frenzied brain, it was hardly a feather. He didn't think about the lurking dangers on the other side of the door. This was far more immediate, far more deadly.

Right now

I'm more scared

of Kenny

Than those things

The door crawled open, every pull rewarding another inch of freedom. Stan tried to look behind him, but it was still too dark to see anything. No sunlight leaked into the storage locker either. It must be the dead of night out there, thought Stan. But even when he strained to listen, there was no brainless groaning from outside. At least not near bye. Something must have drawn them away…but what?

Immediately Stan's train of thought crashed as two powerful hands enclosed around his wrists. He felt the heat of a body against his back, too big to be Ike.

Just as Stan began to struggle, Kenny gave his wrists a sharp squeeze. Stan hissed in pain and let go of the metal chain. With a great ugly groan, the storage door plummeted and hit the ground with a bang.

NO

There went the small hope of freedom, dashed in a single blow. Icy panic seeped into Stan. He began to kick his legs frantically, twisting and squirming like a terrified animal. But Kenny held tight. There was something terrible in his strength, something not entirely human. He was too immovable, a stone giant enshrouding Stan with no promise of release. An eager breathing warmed Stan's ear.

"You smell…amazing…"

"Kenny," Stan was astounded at how his voice trembled, how high it was. "Kenny, you don't want to do this."

"I know I don't," he mumbled. But his arms did not loosen.

"You can control this. You told me yourself."

"I…lied."

Despite the crux, Stan couldn't help but feel disappointment roil in his stomach. He should have known. He should have guessed Kenny was lying, even after all this time. If you can trust Kenny to do one thing, it's hide the truth.

"Well…well maybe not lied…" Kenny continued hesitantly. "I could…I did…but, then I died…" His voice was sandpaper, scratching at Stan's neck and raising the fine hairs. "I died and it became stronger…then we came here, and all these bodies, they made it worse….then I died again…"

"You're stronger than this." Desperation crept into Stan's words. "Kenny, please listen. You bite me and I'm infected. You're not immune. The virus is still in you. Don't-don't-" Stan choked on his own words as he realized the gravity of his plea. Something leaked down his cheek. "-don't kill me."

Kenny hesitated.

In that precious fleeting second Stan bucked forward with all his might, flipping Kenny over and crashing him into the floor. There was an angry shout and the sound of scuffling over the ground. The sheer force set Stan off balance and he fell hard on his back, pain rattling his bones. Struggling to catch his breath, Stan pushed himself up and reached for the knife tucked away in his shoe. The temptation to call out for Ike burned, but Stan held his tongue. He didn't want to remind Kenny of the boy's presence.

But just as his fingers brushed the familiar knife, something powerful knocked him over the head. Hard enough that stars twinkled in Stan's vision. He keeled forward, stomach twitching with the threat to vomit. Clutter went skittering over the cold cement ground. A ruthless hand seized the neck of his shirt and jerked upward. Stan spluttered and choked, biting his own tongue in the confusion. The taste of his own blood dripped down his throat.

"What the FUCK was THAT FOR?!" Kenny roared. He shoved Stan down, and with a horrible crunch Stan's nose crushed into the floor. "God, you really PISS ME OFF! Y'know that?"

Stan tried to choke out a response, but his brain was fuzzy.

"Don't fucking make me mad! This is your fault…you should know better!"

Breathing hard, Kenny leaned in close to Stan. "You can't kill me. No one can. You can try, but I'll just keep coming back."

Stan squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'll just keep getting worse. It gets stronger, every time I come back. It's like there's this starving beast living inside me, and it just wants to kill and eat and eat."

Kenny's breath was still thick with rotting flesh when he leaned in close to Stan's ear.

"And I can hear myself in my head, the normal part, telling myself to stop. But I can't. I don't want to-"

Kenny stiffened. With deliberation, he sniffed the air like a hunting dog.

"…Ike?"

There was no answer.

"Ike…what are you doing?"

Darkness made the silence still and heavy. It was easy for Stan to hear the distinct metallic click of a hand gun readied to fire.

"I…I have a gun aimed at you," warned Ike from somewhere in the dark. "Get away from Stan."

"Ike, you're so scared. I can smell it on you."

"You have five seconds."

"I'll just come back again anyways."

"Not if I hit the brain." Ike's voice rose as he threatened Kenny. "Even if I don't hit it this time, when you die, or- or whatever you do, I'll get it."

Kenny exhaled in frustration. "Ike, listen...I'd stop if I could."

"You can stop! You haven't done anything yet! You are stopping it, right now."

"It's not that simple, I'm just-"

"One…"

"Ike, listen."

"Two…Three…"

"It's not…fuck…Ike…"

"…Four…"

"OKAY!" Kenny roared, and suddenly the pressing weight was lifted from Stan and he could breathe again. "I'm OFF!"

Stan tried to get up, but his arms trembled as he pushed himself upright. His heart galloped as oxygen swarmed back into his bloodstream with intemperate fervour, rushing his head. Another wet cough escaped his lips. Soon he felt Ike's small hands at his shoulders, gently easing him upright.

"Are you okay?"

Stan coughed again. There was a thick gob of blood at the back of his throat that he couldn't seem to get out. "Yeah, 'm –cough- fine." But his brain reeled from the blow.

He tried to kill me

A loud bang erupted nearby, but it was only Kenny kicking the garage door. Each kick was met with spitting curses that Stan strained to hear.

"Here, I found some candles," whispered Ike. "I need your lighter."

Stan nodded, forgetting that Ike could scarcely see him in the dark, and handed him the precious lighter from his pocket. Even that simple task hurt.

A small flame appeared with a soft flick. Then Ike's features were there, warmed by the yellow glow. He watched Stan with a guarded expression, grimacing as Stan lifted his head into the light.

"Your nose is broken." His words were soft, matter-of-fact. Eyes flickered down. Ike bit his lip. "And Kenny's alive. He's kicking the door."

Stan nodded. He didn't know what to make of any of this.

"He told me he was immune to the virus a few days ago. I guess he'd known for a while," Stan explained as Ike regarded him with an owl-like seriousness. "He didn't tell anyone. I only knew for a few days. I didn't know about this, though…not at all."

"He was dead."

"I know."

Ike fell into silence, but the chaotic bangs and curses kept flying through the air. In the glowing candle light, Stan could see Kenny pacing with fire in his step. He'd give the garage door a violent kick, swear, storm to the other side of the room and start all over again. His bronze skin was soaked with a sheen of sweat, and a vein pulsated in his forehead. There was a frenzied glint in his eyes.

"I'd say we should get out right now," said Ike. "But the noise probably attracted a bunch of zombies outside. And you're too hurt to really move anyways."

Stan let the silence speak for him. It was too humiliating for him to answer yes. Recalling the first time he and Kenny sparred in the woods, Stan wondered if Kenny had been holding back his real strength. The aftermath of this fight was akin to being clubbed by a bear.

"He's not going to kill us, is he?" whispered Ike.

Stan's head pounded with every bang, curses flying like gnats through the storage room. With all honesty, he slumped his shoulders and shook his head.

"I don't know," he mumbled too low for Kenny to hear.

WELL IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME

Seriously, summer is just a giant fuck-you to all of my commitments and scheduling. I'm really not good at managing things even during the school year, much less during summer. Is today Saturday? I don't know, who gives a shit.

I'm so sorry to you who have been waiting on this story. Doubtless that I lost much of my audience due to my slow updates, but if you're still around, thank you so much for your patience and interest. It's amazing. Way more than I deserve. Y'all are lovely.

So this is kind of a short chapter, and sort of a not-really cliff hanger. Kenny has a LOT of explaining to do, everything about his background and special abilities is coming out in the open now one hundred percent. If there are still any questions about what Kenny can do/is, they'll hopefully be answered in the next chapter. Man, mostly everything I write is just everyone reacting to the things happening. Not a lot of agency in this chapter, but things are about to pick up!

Again, thank you thank you thank you. As a purely volunteer writer, your reviews mean so much to me. Throw them at me like dollar bills at a sleazy strip joint. I'll take them. Believe me.

Have a lovely night, I'll update soon (yeah right buddy)