The weather suits the memorial of Sarah Smith, I think. Cold and gloomy and sad. Of course, we all are inside Janine's farmhouse where it is less cold, but the feeling of sadness and gloom is still there.

There is no body. It's probably wandering around looking for its next meal. Or maybe some passerby with a gun saw it and shot it in the head. It is-or was-an it. Sarah died the moment she turned, and we know she turned because she hasn't come back.

We all tried to believe she was pulling a me, the first few days; That when we all lost hope and thought she was gone, she'd pop up and race through the tunnels of New Canton... But then she didn't. She still hasn't, and we now no longer think she's gone-we know it.

It is hard, even for me. My relationship with Eight was... complicated, in a way, and had a pretty rough start too, but I think we were acquaintances, or almost friends. Others are taking it a little harder than I am with their tears and pained looks at things that used to be hers and will soon be given to others.

Janine and Sarah were close, mostly because of strategies and plans and things of that nature, and Sam seems sad to lose a runner-one of many, sadly. Other runners like Simon and Summer have their eyes casted down in respect for one of their own, and I can't help but feel surprised. Maybe it's because Abel is so much smaller than the AMTB or Mullins, but I don't remember ever having a memorial service for any runners. Maybe someone higher up on the status ladder, but never a runner.

We're too easy at being replaced to be worth remembering.

But these people don't seem to think so. They actually think we runners are worth something. It's... almost touching.

The silence is heavy and thick, and it almost seems to suck the air out of my lungs as thoughts I don't want to think about invade my head.

What if I hadn't fought against her? What if I had run faster? What if she hadn't tried to protect me? Would she still be alive?

That last question is a no brainer. I know if I had just been better-if I hadn't been selfish and fought against her in those few crucial seconds then maybe she'd be alive and we might even be closer to figuring this out because I'm not stupid enough to think I'm smarter than her. I may not have liked Sarah at first and I may not have been good friends with her when she died but I know she's a better runner than me.

And yet I'm alive while she's dead and I just don't see how that's fair.

Even with the few people in the room it suddenly appears to be stuffy and crowded. I can't breathe. I can't think. It takes everything in me to focus on getting out this room, and when my mind finally reels in on that fact, I bolt. Down the hallway and through the living room, and I can hear a faint sound, but I'm too busy focusing on getting outside to recognize the word the voice is saying.

All I can think about is getting out of this house and getting away from the grieving people who are hurting because of me. Because I was reckless and dumb and couldn't keep my head on straight without Eight fixing it for me.

The door bursts open, and I gasp at the freezing air that hits my face. It burns my lungs, but I don't mind it. Not now. All I think on now is how I'm away from those faces-those people.

And the cold might just make me go numb in a few minutes. I may not be able to numb myself from the guilt, but if numb fingers and toes are the closest I can get them I'll take it.

"Five?"

I spin around at the voice, and I give out a small breath when I see Summer giving me a raised brow. I'm almost happy it's her. We're not as close as I am to Sam or Jody or even Simon, meaning she'll be easier to lie to.

"You ran out pretty quickly. Are you okay?"

'Is anyone here okay right now?' I question.

"No, I suppose not," She mutters. "I know you were the last person to see Sarah. Must be hard knowing that."

I nod.

"It was terrifying when Abel got hit by that rocket launcher. I could hear it from even that far off. I remember thinking that 'I've lost everything now.' I mean, Runner Two and Runner Eleven and Runner Eight and-and Maggie... Runner Six." She gives me a watery smile. "I came here about two years ago, just after the old Runner Seventeen died. I think his name was Elliot or Elias or something.

"He was pretty well liked, and sometimes runners don't like it when their friends get replaced so fast. You're lucky Alice had been turned for two weeks before you showed up. Well, most people didn't really like me, Maggie especially. Apparently those two were... yeah, but after I saved her life after she broke her ankle in the field... we got closer.

"I never thought the zoms would ever get to her. I always thought she'd be the one that keeps living through this, because she was just so good at her job." Summer wraps her arms around herself. "But Eight was pretty good at her job too. I guess we all die sometime."

Then she laughs and runs a hand through her hair. "Look at me, talking about my pain when I came out here to see if you were alright. I guess I'm not the person you want to help comfort you, huh?"

I send her a half smile, but it drops just as the door opens and Simon peeks outside. He grins at the two of us, his teeth about as white as the snow that surrounds us.

"I'm a little disappointed," He says, his baby blue eyes shining. "I thought you two would actually be up to something mischievous."

"What is it, Simon?" Summer sighs, earning a 'humph' from the dirty blond.

"Just came to let you know the memorial service will be ending soon, and since you've already handed over those power tools and got debriefed you'll be heading back to New Canton."

I grimace, making him snicker. "What's the matter, Five? Don't like the bunk beds and hot showers?"

'I would rather be here,' I respond.

"You must really miss us then, Five." He smiles in a cocky manner. "I didn't know you liked me that much."

Summer rolls her eyes but plays along. "Oh, please. We both know it's me she misses the most to want to come back so quickly."

"Well, let's ask her then," Simon says before turning to me. "Who do you miss more?"

I look at Simon, then Summer, then back at Simon.

'Jody,' I answer.

They don't speak at first. I think it's because it takes a few seconds for it to sink in.

"Huh," Summer says, "I guess that makes sense."

"Why do you say that?" Simon questions.

"Because she's not you."

"Well, she's also not you."

"She only didn't choose me because she knows I helped Caleb in the hospital and we liked to share gossip about her."

"Oh, really?" He puts his hands under his chin. "Do tell said gossip."

Why are all my friends idiots?

"Sorry to stop the, ahem, talk and gossip," Janine says standing in the doorway, making Summer and I both freeze. The only person who doesn't look completely terrified is Simon. He's afraid, because this is Janine and she is terrifying, but he's less afraid than Summer and I am.

"I'm afraid Five must start on her journey home with Runner Seven. Don't worry, she will be coming down to meet us once again tomorrow, so you all might have a chance to finish your conversation, whatever it may be."

We nod silently, and I stand up as Janine steps out of the doorway to let Sam and Evan through. Seven and I make our way to the gates while Sam jogs to the coms shack, or what's left of it. It's one of the few things that has only one hole into the wall. Lucky for Sam, I guess.

"Okay, Runner Five, Runner Seven, are you both ready?" He asks a few minutes later.

"Ready, Sam."

'Ready.'

"Alright, then," He sighs, sounding a bit sad to see us go, or maybe that's just me thinking too much into it. "Raise the gates!"

The gates raise without their alarm.

"Covering fire!"

Only one gun goes off.

"Start heading back to New Canton, you two. Hopefully I'll get to see you both soon."

•

I lazily chew on my piece of meat, looking ahead at the mess hall that contains more people than I can count. The echoes of incoherent words seem endless, and I close my eyes and try to focus on the taste of my meat and vegetables. This is just like Mullins, except Mullins had multiple mess halls that held about 200 people each. The AMTB was the same way.

New Canton only holds about twenty or so rooms for people to sit and eat in, meaning about 600 people are in here with me.

Lovely.

And maybe it's being in a room with more people than the actual population of Abel Township, but I can't shake the feeling I'm being watched. There are many reasons for that, though, since I look like an almost exact copy to Chrys, who is pretty popular in New Canton.

Also I seem to be getting a lot of dirty looks, probably because when Sam told Nadia I was the one wearing Lem's headset, the mic was on meaning everyone on that mission heard. Usually someone sits with me and keeps me distracted, but now that most of my friends are at Abel, Caleb is probably lost, and the children have a room of their own for eating, I'm alone.

I'm used to being alone, so it doesn't bother me too much. But sitting at an empty table while some are overloaded is just a tiny bit awkward.

"Is this seat taken?"

My eyes look up at the person standing in front of me. Nadia raises a brow and adjusts her pink glasses. Her pale face holds no emotion as she stares down at me. "Well, is it?"

I shake my head as she sits down, her knees nearly hitting the bottom of the table because of the length of her legs. She gives me no greeting or questions of conversations, but instead keeps her eyes trained on her food as she takes bite after bite. I awkwardly look at my food and take a bite, ignoring the taste and instead trying not to act too odd around the person who probably hates me.

"Archie told me you and Runner Seven stayed at Abel for a memorial service for one of your runners," She mumbles, and I nod. "Must be hard to lose someone you care about. Not that I would know."

My shoulders are practically scrunched up to my ears, but Nadia doesn't really seem to notice; Her eyes are still on her food.

"I'm surprised you didn't try to stay there, since you're willing to do basically anything for that place."

I bring my eyes up to meet hers, which hold silent rage and pain. 'I couldn't leave Willis, or Milo, or Penelope.'

"That makes sense. I remember you like to give them any random items you find."

I shrug. 'Of, course.'

She raises a brow in interest. "But I thought you had a collection for yourself?"

'I do, but I give them what's best. They deserve the better things. I don't.'

Something flashes across Nadia's
eyes as I sign that, but it's gone before I can actually recognize what it is. Then it's just silence between us, but with the mutterings of those around us it doesn't seem as awkward. She looks back down at her food, and I look around at the tables and tables of people, desperately searching for Caleb to come sit with me so this wouldn't feel as weird as it is.

I know I'm probably thinking of it much worse than it actually is, but still I can't help but be nervous. I mean, she hates me and has good reason to. I may have had a good reason for making her believe he was alive, but it still doesn't make this any better. She may never forgive me for what I've done, and I won't be mad at her for that.

She sees through me. She knows I'm not the great person everyone seems to think I am.

"Do you feel guilty about it?" She asks suddenly, and I look up with wide eyes. Nadia scoffs. "Of course, you'd need specifics-about Willis. I know he calls you his mom; His brother and sister does too. And since they see you as that, don't you feel responsible for what happened? Do you feel responsible for any of it?"

I know what she's truly asking, so I just stare at her with eyes that have nothing but emptiness in them.

'I feel responsible for all of it.'

She's taken aback by this, and she looks like she wants to say something more, but she doesn't. She just stands up-her plate still half full-stand walks off, and I'm left alone, like before.

But only for a few minutes as Caleb slides into the seat beside me, grinning widely. "Hey, Five. Sorry it took me so long. Kytan kept wanting to talk this new kick he learned, and then... I got lost. I saw Nadia just pass. Was she sitting here with you?"

His grin fades when he finally stops to study my face. "Five, you okay?"

'I'm fine.'

But she's not.

•

Singer sits silently in the attic, ignoring the draft and the smell and the cobwebs. She can't stop looking at her hands. A shadow is casted by the sunlight flowing through the dingy large window. Its yellow glass that's thick with dirt causes very little light to come through, but it's just enough for her to see her hands.

She shot someone-she killed someone. In that grocery store while Mrs. Robin was lying on the floor bleeding from the zombie bite. She killed her... She can't comprehend how she actually did it. She doesn't remember pulling the trigger, or even picking up the gun.

It's only been a day, and everyone looks at her differently now. Joey practically lunged for her when he was told. Tori called her a murder. Wes can't even look at her.

So here she is, sitting in an empty room with a cell phone in one hand and her Bible in the other. Singer knows the cell phone doesn't work since there's been no service since this started, and the Bible only makes you feel better if you read it, but she won't throw the phone away nor will she open the book.

The tears will stain the pages, and if she gets rid of the phone then she looses all hope of contacting her dad, and she really, really needs to talk to him right now.

He'd know what to say, somehow. He'd understand. He'd try to find a way to make it better; To make the guilt go away. She wishes he would have come with them, but because of her parents' recent divorce he thought it would be best if he stayed.

He's probably dead now. She wouldn't be surprised if he was. What better chance does he have than anyone else? Of course, he may still be alive. There's always that slight possibility, but how does she know? They can't exactly start a journey back since it would take weeks or longer and there's no shelter near the interstate. Power lines are down and sadly it's become near impossible to find a portable radio since that's the one thing everybody actually thought to take with them, and Grunkle Mike's broke.

A creak of the floorboards causes Singer to be pulled away from her thoughts, and when she gazes upward from the hands that will forever have Robin's blood on them, she sees her sister.

"Hey, Kate."

"Hi," She replies as she makes her way over to her, and sits down a few inches away. "Whatcha been doin'?"

"Besides feeling terrible for what I did, not much," She answers with a half hearted shrug.

"Mom says it isn't your fault, you know. She was gonna die anyway, or come back or something."

"I know, but that was Wes's mom. We knew her. She made us soup when we got sick and-and sometimes helped us with homework when Mom couldn't and-and..." Singer stops when she realizes she's crying again. "Damn it."

Katelyn grabs the Bible from her hand and whacks it across her arm, making the older sister wince. "Hey!"

"Don't curse," She scolds. "If Mom would've heard you she would've washed your mouth out."

"So you thought you should just hit me with a Bible?"

"You need some Jesus beaten into you."

"Very funny," Singer replies, but the light mood her sister brought to her soon disappears. "How's everyone downstairs?"

"Quiet, but I heard Mom arguing with Brittney in another room a few minutes ago. Bro. Reggie has been crying, but everyone else is silent."

"They can't believe I actually did it. They can't believe I actually killed someone, but I... I had to, didn't I? No one else was gonna do it and if I didn't then-"

"Yeah, I know," Katelyn murmurs, wrapping her arms around her sister's shoulders.

"How's Wes?"

"Sad, but I don't think he's mad at you like Joey was, or how Brittney still is."

"Of course, she's still mad at me." Singer huffs. "She saw it; She saw me shoot her... I don't even remember pulling the trigger. One minute the gun was at my feet and then the next a bullet was in her head. I just..."

"Just what?"

"I was just trying to keep everyone safe," Singer whimpers as more salty tears flow down her face. "I was just to keep you safe-follow the rules."

"Rules?" She repeats with head cocked to the side, and Singer nods.

The rules were what her mother told her after the first day, even though they were still confused about what was going on. They saw the death and how fast it spread, so Michelle gave Singer three rules to always go by, especially if something happened to her.

1: Never stop moving
2:Always be wary
3: Protect Katelyn no matter what

And Singer added one more.

4: Kill anyone or anything that might make you break rule number three.

"Yeah, the rules. You're too young to understand them."

Katelyn scoffs. "I'm ten and you're twelve. You're not that much older than me."

"Maybe when you're twelve I'll tell them to you." She shrugs and looks away casually, even though tears are still leaking from her eyes.

"How do you know I'll actually live to be twelve?" Singer stiffens instantly at hearing that question, and a shadow casts over her face as she glares at her sister, who immediately pushes away.

"Don't ever say that again. Don't even think that."

"But why?"

"Because I'll protect you."

"Oh, really now?" A new voice adds in. The two both turn to the doorway, which Brittney is leaning against.

"I... yes, really," Singer says, feeling a stab of guilt at seeing the blonde's face. Her eyes are full of raw pain and grief, and yet there's something more there... something not sane.

"Is that why you killed my mother? To protect your little sister? Is that why you shot her without even blinking?" Her words sting as she takes a step closer, and Singer pulls Katelyn behind her, and that flash of crazy darts across Brittney's eyes again. Only then does she notice the knife in her hand.

But Brittney's a grown woman... she wouldn't kill a kid, would she?

"Are you trying to-to scare me or something?" She eyes, eyeing the rather large knife. "Be-because it's not working."

"Me scare you?" The blonde laughs. "It should be the other way around. After all, you're the one who murdered someone!"

"I-I had to. She was going to turn," She stammers, taking a step back, towards the window and pulling Katelyn along with her.

"You're a monster! A killer! You're an evil demon in the form of a child!"

"She's talking crazy," Katelyn whimpers.

"I know what you're doing. You're going to kill every one of us and you're going to find some excuse for so you won't have to face the consequences! 'She got bit! She went crazy! He put Katelyn in danger!"

"Brittney, please calm down," Singer pleads. "We don't want the noise to attract any zombies. I didn't want to kill Mrs. Robin but she was bit."

"Stop talking!" She screeches, and Singer can't understand how someone can go mad from grief that quickly. "I'm going to kill you, because you are a monster. People may think you're all good and great but I see right through you! I know what you are! I know you're evil!"

She charges at the two with her knife raised, and just before she can bring it down Singer pushes her and sister out of the way. The two hit the floor with loud thuds, but when they look up in fear they have just enough time to see Brittney's foot hit a loose board, and fall forward...

Right out the glass window. Her screams mix with the shattered glass, like a crescendo that builds until there's a loud thud... then silence.

The door bursts open, and in comes Singer's mother-Michelle-and Great Aunt Connie and Grunkle Mike.

"We heard screaming," Michelle pants, eyes wide with panic. "Is everyone okay?"

"Not Brittney," Katelyn answers watery. She's shaking harder then she ever has before, and Singer can only say one thing.

"We need to leave."

•

I wake up in a bunk bed. The darkness surrounds me, and so does the silence. The only thing close to sounds right now is the steady breathing of the sleeping people in this block, but other than that everything is quiet; Everything is peaceful.

Except my mind that won't stop screaming,

Second kill.

A/N: Yay! More backstory! Hope you liked this chapter. Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you all and have a blessed day!