"Why didn't you let Alycia go?" I ask quietly. My eyes gaze to Nick beside me on the couch, more relaxed than he's been all day. Oxy's a life-saver.

"What?"

"Earlier. You were completely ass over tit about her leaving. Said that Matt—Matt, who can't even kill a spider—would hurt her. Why?"

"He's sick."

"No shit, Sherlock. How sick?" My mind flicks back to earlier when we saw Matt. How Travis and Madison were talking. It wasn't like this. Get the girls. What does that mean?

"I don't know, I—"

"It's that new disease, isn't it? The one that's all over the news." My voice goes soft. "Don't bullshit me, Nick. Tell me. Tell me everything."

He sighs, resigned, and nods. "I think it affects the brain. Acts like a flu at first, but gets worse. It makes people makes people go crazy. Like they're animals."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" He struggles to find an answer. "They go rabid. Think rabies, except there's no foam."

I could laugh at the comparison, but that doesn't seem like something to joke about.

"You saw the video from the highway, right? You already know, then." His eyes stare off at the blue screen of the tv, adding, "I saw it, at the church. I wasn't hallucinating. Gloria… Gloria has it. She hurt our friends."

My lips press together. "I'm sorry. That's—that sucks. I know she meant a lot to you."

"Doesn't matter any more. She's gone. As far as we know, there's no cure."

"Well, not yet." I argue. "It's possible the CDC could come up with one."

"Not soon enough." He snaps. "Not for Gloria. And not for Matt, either. He's probably as sick as she was by now. That's what Matt's gonna be. Like a wild, rabid animal with no control."

Animal. Not human.

"That…" I sigh. "Poor Alycia. That fucking sucks."

Nick leans into the couch cushions, throwing a blanket on top of himself. "Yeah, it does." He waits a beat before asking, "Are you mad at me?"

I blanche. That's an unexpected question I don't want to answer. Well, yes, but I don't want to say that. "Uh…"

"Huh. That's a yes."

Bollocks.

"Yeah," I reply, honest. No point in hiding it. "I am."

"Why?"

"Besides the fact that you tried to score off me and my mom?" I raise an eyebrow accusingly. Nick shrugs—almost sheepishly, but understanding—and I add. "That seriously ticked me off. Just… it felt like old times, then you did that. Felt like a slap to the face."

"I was desperate and looking for a fix."

"I'm well-aware, bloke. But I'm not your dealer. I'm just…" I shrug, uncomfortable. "An old friend. I don't want to be used, especially not for a fix."

Nick nods, and says, "Sorry. Really, T. Won't happen again."

"Promise?"

He smirks; an old, goofy smile. "Scout's honor."

I smile back. "Good. If not, there will be consequences to pay, yank."

"Is that seriously going to stick?"

My grin grows wider. "You bet your ass, yank."

One in the morning rolls around when Nick starts complaining about the oxy wearing off. We're lucky enough to have lamplight at the time; more than once has the street flickered into darkness and Alycia and I had to light up the candles.

She's currently by the window, peering through the blinds with a flashlight. I can't look again, not with the new information of the disease. Like rabies without the foam. You act like an animal. How can one disease create so much damage?

I don't want to watch that virus hurt anyone else tonight, so I focus my energy on relaxing comfortably on the couch and playing a few rounds of Temple Run. See if I can get a few more trophies before Travis and co. return.

Madison hands Nick a full glass of water and two pills from the container, which he immediately begins to grind on the coaster for his glass. My nose scrunches. "Gross."

"Shut it, peanut gallery," is his playful response.

As something scrapes by outside, Alycia looks to Madison. "What was that sound?"

"I don't know." Madison answers truthfully. "But it's gone."

"What did Mr. Dawson do to the Cruzes?"

"He's gone."

"Yeah, but what the hell did he do?" Alycia sets the flashlight on the table and goes to sit on the single rocking chair, curved on Nick's side of the couch to point at the tv screen.

"I don't know, but we're safe, inside, okay?"

I set my phone in my lap as Nick leans over, inspecting the grains of his meds. Unsatisfied, he sets the glass of water back, grinding them finer.

"Oh, come on, Nick! Please, just swallow them?" Madison complains.

He shakes his head with a jerk. "No, it takes too long to absorb. I'm not there yet." He twists the cup, creating tinier grains.

"The idea is to wean you off the pills, not to—"

"Um," he stops his movements to stare at her. "Who's the expert?"

I wouldn't exactly call that an expertise, but go off, mate.

"Mom, I need more."

"No shit." She rolls her eyes. "Later."

"How much do we have?"

"We have enough to get you east. Don't worry."

"And then?"

"And then you howl at the moon." She raises an eyebrow, waiting for a rebuttal. Internally I sigh. Quit prying, please. This situation is awkward enough as it is. "Look, Travis will be here. We'll go."

He huffs out a sigh, skeptical. "You sure?"

"Nick!" Alycia interrupts before he says any more.

I shake my head. "Not cool, mate." Don't be such an asshole.

"He's coming." Madison says firmly, and before he can add anything she storms from the room. If I were in her spot, I would've slapped him for saying something so horrible.

"Okaayy." Nick answers singsong-like. Not only does he not believe her, he has no trouble making it known. Rude.

When Madison's form leaves my view, I kick at Nick's leg. "Don't do that to her."

"Do what?"

"Don't put those thoughts in her head." I state clearly. "Travis is fine, and even if he isn't she needs to believe he is. Don't toy with her emotions, bloke."

"I'm just trying to be realistic." He holds his hands up in surrender. "It sucks, but we can't think about things like in the past. He might not be coming back; we need to be prepared for that."

"'In the past.'" Alycia repeats. "You sound like Gandalf. Nothing's changed."

"The whole world's changing, 'Lych. You just haven't seen it yet."

"Sure it is, brother dear."

"Don't believe me, fine. You'll see soon enough." He shakes his head, but goes back to grinding the pills down into as fine a dust as possible. Then be bends down to snort it up. I grimace at the noise. Ugh, I long for the day he only swallows the damn things. Long for the day doesn't need them at all, really.

Madison returns moments later, in her hands the ruthless object at which many families tear themselves apart. Where parents disown children; where children rise and enslave families without an inch of remorse.

Monopoly.

"Really?" Alycia asks in disbelief.

"Yep." Madison pops the, "p," and smirks. As she sets the board on the table in front of the couch Nick immediately jumps from his spot.

"I'm the top hat!" Madison claims.

"Car." Alycia grins.

"Shoe." Nick takes.

"I'll take the cute little puppy!" I say.

The four of us go on the ground to surround the coffee table, opening up the various parts to the awful, family-wrecking game.

"Dad away always the shoe." Alycia looks over to Nick, curious. Huh. That's the first time I've heard her talk about her dad in years.

"Daddy wouldn't mind." Madison shrugs, smiling at the piece fondly.

Nick looks to Alycia, teasing, "So, what'd you wanna be, the thimble?"

"No." Madison stretches the word.

"I'm. The. Car." Alycia stresses, a wide grin on her face.

"The caaar. All right." Nick pulls the pieces out from the box, setting them in Go. Madison sets herself as the banker, flicking everyone stacks of bills. Alycia and I divvy up the chance and community chest cards. Let's do this!

Madison asks, "Alright, who wants to go first?"

"Youngest to oldest." Nick says. "I'm gonna wipe the floor with you guys. I can feel it."

"Calm down there, yank. You've never played against me." I boast, grinning maliciously. Not a game I play often, but one I think I strategize well.

"Back at ya, dawling." Nick uses a very fake British accent, and I roll my eyes. "I'm a known menace in this game."

"You say that now, but when I have hotels on all my properties, you'll be begging to get Baltic Avenue just so your name's on the board."

"This game's evil, dude." Alycia points out. Madison nods in agreement. "Kindergarten capitalism."

"That's the best part!"

"Shut up and roll." Nick demands. I stick my tongue out at him but comply and grab the dice. I'm the youngest. Nick's 19, Alycia's 18, and I'm 18, but a few months younger. Ha ha!

I roll and manage a five.

Here we go.

"Okay, okay. One, two, three," Nick says, lightly tapping his piece on the board each time he announces a number, "four, five. That's Boardwalk. And I will buy that, please."

"Oh, my god." Alycia groans.

"Alright, alright." Madison concedes, groaning in defeat as he hands the money over. "$400. Sold!"

I throw my head back onto the couch cushion and close my eyes, whimpering. "So not fair."

"I thought you were gonna kick my ass?" He asks innocently, smirking. "So far the only place you got is Connecticut Avenue."

I squint menacingly at him, twisting my head to get just a little closer and personal, as is customary when intimidating an enemy. "I've been around the board twice. Mark my words, Nick Clarke, I will get Park Place and screw your monopoly over."

"Sounds like we're both screwed in that sense. You wouldn't get that monopoly either."

"It'll be unholy matrimony." I counter lazily, turning my head ever-so-slightly so it lands on his shoulder. The banter may be fun, but it's almost one in the morning. I'm getting sleepy.

"Play smart, Tina." Madison warns. "He'll bite your head off if you take it."

"I dare him to try."

"Mom's not wrong. I told you, I'm a menace." His arm goes around my own and he lightly pats, accentuating his words. My skin tingles as his hand settles.

"Hey, hey, play fair, Nick." Alycia warns. "I remember that time you cheated a few years ago."

"A few years ago?!" He counters. "I was 12!"

"You still cheated."

"You cheated too! You stole my house."

"You two are giving me a headache." I bring my hands up to my temples and rub at them. I really am tired, aren't I? Not a night owl for sure.

"C'mon, guys, don't treat the houseguest like that." Madison tells her kids. "We want her to keep coming back after all this is over."

"Do we?" Nick questions. I elbow his side in response. "Ow. Okay, now I'm gonna get Park Place just to spite you."

"I highly doubt that."

I move my elbow back and scoot into his side some more, mooching off his warmth. He squeezes an arm around me in response. Commence sleep in three, two…

"I don't know." Alycia says skeptically. And awake, I am again. "He always gets the best places on the board."

"You say that now, but oh, look at that, I'm crushing you guys!" Madison holds up her pile of money in one hand and her slowly growing pile of cards in the other. "You're pathetic."

As she goes to roll the dice there's a distant sound of what almost sounds like firecrackers. But then I realize, not firecrackers. Gunshots.

We all quiet, looking off to the window, upset. I allow myself to lean in more to Nick's touch and his arms drops from my shoulder and go to my back, wrapping around my middle. My head goes into the crook of his heck contently. The world may be going to shit, but at least I have good company to experience it with.

"Mom." Nick says, pulling us from our thoughts. She finishes her roll and moves three spaces, landing on my single property. She pays the money owed, and I lean forward from Nick's touch to grab it. It's funny how I feel cold without his arm around me.

"How long are we gonna wait?" Alycia asks quietly. I silently take my turn and roll the dice. Fuck. I skip past Park Place and land on Boardwalk. But the playful mood has drained, so I don't tease as I hand Nick his money.

"We can go to sleep soon." Madison answers, her voice low.

"Yeah, I can't sleep if I'm waiting for someone to come home."

There's no playful tone, no boredom, nothing. She just sounds… Sad? She's even quieter as she adds, "I'm having a major case of déjà-vu right now."

I can only assume she means about her father's death. I never met Mr. Clarke; he passed away just after I moved to L.A. I've only heard little stories from Alycia. Even then, no one really talks about him. Hurts too much, I guess.

The three of them go silent at the admission. What happened to him? Not that I ask. Instead, I bring my hand to my back and find Nicks, giving it a gentle squeeze in consolation.

It's silent, just for a moment. A deafening, painful quietness that spreads. The Clarkes, because they're experiencing a loss all over again; and me, who can't do anything to help her closest friends.

"When was the last time you ate, yank?" I ask Nick softly, twisting my head to look up at him.

"Hmm, I haven't had anything since I threw up."

"How about we grab some food, then?" Hopefully getting something in our stomachs can change the mood.

"Yeah, we could take a break from this." Madison agrees, and one by one we stand and make our way to the kitchen.

"Alycia, what're you craving?" Madison asks, opening up their junk food cabinet.

"Ooh, hand me the Cheez-its."

Madison grabs a bag and tosses it over to Alycia, which she catches. Nice! "Nick?"

"The popcorn." Madison tosses him a bag of SmartFood.

"Tina?"

"I'll take Cheetos, please." I walk up to grab it. Horrible hand-eye coordination, so I just know I wouldn't catch it. Alycia and I go to the small three-seater table in the corner of the kitchen, quietly munching as Madison goes to make herself a protein shake.

"So, what do we do if he doesn't come back?" Nick asks. I internally groan. "It's been like six hours. How bad can traffic be?"

"Well, he—" Madison starts, but the lights go off. Again. Internally, the groan turns into a scream. Not again.

"Alycia, will you put the game away?" Madison changes the subject.

"Mom, I don't really wanna—" Alycia starts.

"You know the rules, loser puts the game away."

Madison grabs the flashlight from the counter and turns it on, pointing at Alycia. Her daughter gives a look of annoyance before she starts moving.

The light keeps trailing her until she huffs, "All right, I'm going!"

"Tina, will you help?" Madison points the light at me, momentarily blinding my eyes. "You were second to last."

I scoff. "Hardly. But sure."

In the darkness I manage to make my way over to the table, only tripping on the edge of the couch once. I swear out loud as I hit my knee on the edge, the searing pain shooting through me before quickly before dissipating.

"And you tried to tell me you had class." Alycia says smugly. I can hear flicks of the money and assume she's sorting it out.

"I do! Just not while your couch tries to assault me." I pop down to the floor and start grabbing the property cards to pile them up, then the community chest and chance cards.

"You and, ah, Nick seemed pretty close during our game…" Alycia notes slyly. She grabs one of the flashlights and sets the light on me.

"Oh, please. In a game like Monopoly, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

"Oh, so you were just using him, huh?" She teases as I put the lid on the box. "Just strategy?"

"That, and my energy is completely drained. He makes a good pillow in a pinch." Guess my crush hasn't fully dissipated, but so what? It's not like I'm crawling into bed with him.

The light badgering is cut short as we hear a noise from outside. Scratching? Alycia goes to the window with the flashlight, scanning the street. I go to her side, my heart hammering just a little faster as we see something move in the dark.

We head to the kitchen, Alycia announcing, "It's happening again."

Madison follows us to the window, a spring in her step from the mild peak of fear. She pulls the blinds apart, making a pocket so we can see better.

"Is it Mr. Dawson?" Alycia asks. I peer just under her shoulder, trying to detect the source of the movement across the street.

Madison shushes her and twists the beam of her flashlight around. "I don't see anything."

"Okay, we need to get away from the windows." Nick commands, voice shrill. He yanks a set of blinds closed; I take a step back to get out of his way. He's already seen this; he knows what to do.

Madison stands, frozen beside the window. She stares at it with furrowed brows, like she's still mentally processing. Through the dark I see Nick's hand go to her shoulder, tugging her away. The fear in his voice shines through as he murmurs to her. Silently, Alycia and I peer at the open set of blinds, trying to see anything out of the ordinary.

"Girls, come on down here." Madison calls. Alycia gives me a look of discontent before we obey the order and head into the dining room.

The scraping noise is louder in there, and all of us jump when we hear a loud squeak. Madison shines her flashlight to the wall behind the dinner table. It's covered with old curtains, and I know behind them are sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. The squeaking and scraping are coming directly from it. What's on the other side? Is it one of the diseased people? Are they going to hurt us?

Nick takes a couple silent steps to the door, seemingly the bravest. "Nick." Madison whimpers to him, trying to get him to stop. He shushes her and puts a finger to his mouth as a signal. Stay quiet.

His fingers curl around the edge of the first set of curtains. Another surge of fear rolls through me. He's going to open them!

"Nick, don't!" Is hissed by Madison at the same time Alycia whispers, "Don't open it!"

He does anyway, throwing the curtains back as far as he can to give us the widest view of the outside. And at the door…

A dog. A large, brown and black German Shepherd. I recognize him from the numerous walks one of the neighbors takes him on. He's panting against the glass and on his hind legs, scraping at the glass with long claws. He's so tall standing that he can reach the door handles.

"It's just a dog." Nick clarifies, "Just a dog. It's okay."

He pulls at the door and the German Shepherd trots inside happily. The dog pants loudly, mouth open and tongue hanging out. His slobber pools to the ground in little droplets as Nick sits beside him to give him a couple pets.

"Hey, hey." Nick starts soothingly, and maneuvers around the dogs head to look at one of his front legs. More specifically, what was in the dogs' fur on his leg. It covers almost the whole leg and there's a decent patch of it on his side.

"What is that?" Madison wonders aloud, and trains the flashlight on his side. Blood?

"Is he—is he hurt?" Alycia asks. I make my way over (yay, dog!) and drop to my knees to examine the mess of fur and whatever it is on the dogs' side.

Wordlessly, I bring my hand to the Shepherd's side and offer gentle pats. It's still wet, but I can't feel any scrapes or scratches underneath.

"I don't think it's his blood." I say. My eyes go past his back and to Nick's. I can't explain how wide they are. Did he get into a fight?

The dog starts to whimper in his spot before sprinting past everyone and through the hall. He starts to bark at the front door vehemently, large paws scraping at the ground as he goes into a defensive crouch.

Nick flies past us and goes to the window. His fingers pull at the blinds so he can see the street, and he frowns. Guess he doesn't enjoy what he sees.

"Okay, the Trans have a gun." He thinks aloud, pulling away from the window. He starts going to the back door. "Shotgun. I tried to steal it once."

Oh god we need a gun. That's horrifying. I've never been near a gun in my entire life and now we're stealing one.

"Girls, stay close." Madison orders. She follows Nick outside, and even though I just want to hide, I force myself to follow them. They can use an extra set of hands, and it's better if I'm near people I trust. No way in hell can I deal with Mr. Dawson alone. "Don't stop."

We don't close the door behind us, and the dog's barks can be heard clearly in the still air. My heart hurts to hear him so distressed. Stop thinking about him, Tina. Focus. Right now, climb onto a pile of rubble in the backyard.

The fence between the Clarke's backyard and the Trans' backyard is decently tall, maybe seven feet. Not even Nick can climb it without the aid of cleverly placed trash cans and bags to step on. He goes first over the top, and then Madison, then Alycia, then me. The drop to the ground isn't so bad on the other side, considering there's a pile there, too, but I still grab ahold of something as I plop down. That something happens to be Alycia's shoulder.

"Sorry!" I whisper. She winces as I let go. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's only my shoulder. I can order a new one online." She teases. Her hand goes to rub at it soothingly. Oopsies.

I look ahead of us and I'm both astounded and very confused by what I see. What is this? A maze?

I voice the question out loud, and Madison answers. "Kind of. The Trans really like their wind chimes, so they made this to set 'em up everywhere. Nick and Alycia used to play here all the time as kids."

"Got lost a couple times." Alycia adds.

I nod at the explanation. "Okay. Where to next?"

"Follow me." Nick takes the lead, and the rest of us trail behind. I can still hear the dog barking inside the house as we pass through the wind-chime-maze-thing, coupled with the light singing of the chimes. Once we make it inside the house, though, everything's quiet. Eerily quiet.

Since the back door is unlocked, we assume at least one of its occupants is inside. Madison calls out to them. "Susan? Patrick?" My eyes search through the darkness for any movement. I find none.

No response. "They're not here." Nick notes.

"Susan? Patrick?"

As we all go deeper into the house, the lights flicker on, bright as day. Oh, joy. We're in their kitchen.

"Susan?" Madison asks to the silence. Nothing.

Nick opens the door to the hallway and takes a left. Madison follows, throwing a, "Stay put!" over her shoulder. Alycia and I give curt nods, and she trails after her son. Alycia absentmindedly glides to the hallway entrance, gazing over family photos in a collage.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" She muses. I follow her, gazing at the pictures.

"They didn't have any children?"

"No. Mrs. Tran's infertile." She hums as we go down the hall. Her arms go around herself, hugging her middle loosely. "She used to babysit me and Nick as kids."

"Yeah? Did she like you two?"

"I think so." The lights flicker again, and we're swamped in darkness once more. Bloody hell. "But we were always a handful, even as toddlers."

"Of course. It's in the Clarke blood."

She chuckles. "Yeah. But I think they're happy, even without kids. Just the two of them; a little family."

"That's good, then. Family doesn't mean kids. It's whatever you want it to be." Once we reach the end of the hallway, we meander through an open space that I assume is the living room, couches adorning each wall.

"Nick got sick, when we were in middle school." Alycia points to a small stain on the carpet with her flashlight. "Mom and dad were busy, so Mrs. Tran picked us up at the end of the day. He puked here."

I nod, listening. "Mom was mad that he didn't go to the nurse during class, but he said they were always busy. He didn't want to bother them. He didn't think they would leave work for him."

She sighs and moves away from the spot, choosing to lean against the window instead. "Fast forward seven years and see how much he cares now," she grumbles.

I give a sympathetic wince in her direction. "Sorry, love."

She just huffs in response. I go to her by the window, hopefully offering some form of silent comfort.

The comfort is short-lived as we both peer through the window and witness Mr. Dawson—or what used to be Mr. Dawson—enter the Clarke house through the open back door. No! The dog inside starts to bark in response.

Please don't hurt the dog! I scream internally. No, no!

"Mom!" Alycia calls out. "Mom!"

Seconds later Madison and Nick fly through the door, Nick carrying a large gun case and some small boxes with ammo.

"Mom, Mr. Dawson's inside our house!"

"What?!"

"He just walked in." I explain, my voice hitching in my throat as the words fly. "The door was open and he—well, it was more like a limp—but he's in there and the dog's barking at him—"

Nick drops the boxes of ammo to the ground beside us and yanks the gun from of its bag. "Here, mom. Mom! Load it."

"Watch out." Madison warns. "Stand back."

Alycia and I take a few steps back from them as Nick sets the shotgun on the ground and opens the bottom, which I assume is the chamber for the ammo. Not quite sure, but that sounds logical, right?

"Careful." Madison tells Nick. She sets a shell inside the chamber, fingers shaking as she grabs more and slides them in.

The dog starts barking louder, and I can see him trotting in circles around Mr. Dawson. He starts growling as he takes a few steps backwards and slides behind the curtain, out of our view.

The barks and growls turn into whimpers as Mr. Dawson bends down to the dog, and though I can't see it happening, I can hear the pain as the dog cries out. He's hurting the dog. He's killing the dog!

I take a step away from the window as the Shepherd—that beautiful, innocent Shepherd—wails. I can't watch this.

"Mom." Alycia sobs. My own is caught in my throat, frozen in horror.

"Shh, it's okay. We'll just stay here." Madison rests a comforting hand on Alycia's shoulder, pulling her in close. They both stare through the glass, waiting for more movement inside their dining room.

I have to walk away from the window; I can't listen to the pup cry any more. My hand palms at my eyes, willing the tears away. That poor dog. This is awful.

The gentle rattle of shotgun shells gains my attention, and my eyes flick to Nick. "You know how to use that thing?"

"It's more of a on-the-job-training kind of deal."

"Bloody wonderful."

But the word bloody brings a thought. Is this going to get bloody? What exactly are we going to do with the gun?

Are we really going to shoot Mr. Dawson?

If things couldn't get any worse, Madison hisses out, "No, no, no!"

Curious, I lean back to the window and find a truck pulling in to the Clarke driveway. The same truck that picked me and Alycia up from Matt's house. Travis' truck.

"It's Travis!" Madison pants out. She grabs her phone from her pocket and dials his number, but there's no signal. "No!"

"It might not be him." Nick says. He grabs a flashlight from the bag and points the beam out the window. We watch as the truck pulls fully into the driveway, lights shutting down as it parks.

"It's him." Alycia confirms.

Overcome with fear, Madison grabs the flashlight from Nick's hand and wordlessly runs to the backdoor of the Tran house. The three of us follow after, picking up our pace to match hers as she flies through the wind-chime maze, all the while screaming out Travis' name.

We pull up at a dead end in the maze, and Madison runs straight into it. "Dammit!" She hisses out in pain, and her hand goes to her face and rubs at it before she turns around and runs through us. "Travis! Travis!"

"Okay, okay, left here." Nick tries to navigate from the back of the group. I'm amazed when Madison follows his instructions. "Right, right! Here, now a left."

Madison continuously shouts out Travis' name, and when we finally make it to the end she's first to hop over the fence.

She stops midway as Nick climbs onto the rubbish pile. "Give me the gun." She hurtles out. He wordlessly hands it to her as she frantically jumps down the other side. A scream fills my ears from inside the Clarke house as the lights flicker back on. Oh, no. The sound only makes Madison run faster to her home.

"The shells!" Nick agitatedly asks Alycia. "Where are the shells?" They're still inside. We didn't grab them!

"Leave it, leave it, let's go." He tells her. His legs swing over the fence and he drops down to the other side. I follow suit, vaguely noticing the shaking in my hands. I hope everyone's okay, I hope everyone's okay, I hope—

My foot slips on the rubble underneath my feet, and I shriek out of fear as I feel myself falling. Fuck.

"T, hey!" A warm pair of hands grab at my waist and hold me steadily. My own grasp at his shoulders to help keep me on my feet. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I answer shakily and let go of Nick. "Alycia, you coming?" I glance over my shoulder at the pile and barely catch the flip of her hair as she drops down on the other side.

"Go without me!" She yells. "I got the shells! Go!"

"Good enough for me." Nick says, grabbing my arm and hurriedly tugging me along to the back of the Clarke house.

We make it just in time to see Travis holding Mr. Dawson's animated body against the wall, and fear ignites in every nerve of my body. Dawson's skin is ashen pale, his eyes a milky white in the center. He moans out hungrily, teeth chomping at the air in front of Travis' face. Oh god, no!

Madison points the shotgun straight at Mr. Dawson's face and yells at Travis to stay back.

He holds a desperate hand out, yelling, "No! Put the gun down!"

A man goes to Madison and pulls the gun out of her hands. He's on the older side; the start of a receding hairline atop his head; salt and pepper hair. A goatee covers his jaw, and he wears a simple pair of jeans with a comfortable fuzzy sweatshirt. I've never met him before, but I get the instant thought: Dangerous. Effective, but a wildcard.

"Move." He orders Madison, cocking the gun easily and setting it to Mr. Dawson's face. He pulls the trigger the second Travis pulls away.

Now, for any person, a shot from that close would have had to kill them. It goes against Mr. Dawson's face, ripping off its features. It had to have killed him. There's nothing left. No nose or mouth to breathe through, no eyes to see.

But seconds later, his body shuffles to the left, and holy shit, he's still alive! How is that possible?

I gaze in horror as I look at the remnants of his face. It's like the world is moving in slow motion as he shuffles forward; no nose, no eyes, no more mouth and chiseled jaw.

There's a crater where his features used to be. And he's still fucking moving.

I can't believe it. I just can't. This world can't do something so cruel to a man and still keep him on his feet. My breath catches in my throat like I can't breathe properly. This virus is worse than any of us could've imagined.

"You see him too, right?"

My eyes—wide and horrified—flick to Nick's. "Wish I couldn't."

"Okay, good. I'm not crazy. I'm really not crazy."

My hands cover my face and eyes as I push myself against Nick's side. "Definitely not."

Silently he wraps his arms around me and pulls my face against his chest, as if to shield me from the remains of Mr. Dawson. I take quick comfort in the movement, but I need to watch. I need to see what happens. What we do to Mr. Dawson.

So I turn my head out and look as the man walks up to Mr. Dawson, putting the chamber right against the crater of blood and muscle, and fires straight into it. I scream, and I vaguely hear others screaming too, as the body drops to the ground. The top half of his skull is missing. It's gone. Shot off.

"Oh, my god." I groan. Nick's arms are rigid against my form. Not even he can comprehend what just happened.

"C'mon," he gently pulls me in the direction of the door, voice quiet and soothing. "Let's-"

"No." I pull away adamantly. "Nope."

I amble away from him and to patch of grass, away from everyone, and vomit loudly into the green.

The scene replays in my head; the cratered face, visible muscles and dark red blood oozing... The top half of his skull shot off…

I retch again. I can't stop, even as someone pulls up beside me. I turn my head slightly, dry heaving, to get a better look.

Oh, he's puking too.

Yet again, another new face. As he bends down to barf in the grass, I take quick note of pale bronze skin, long black hair, and dark brown eyes before he bends down to empty his stomach again.

I pant heavily as I wipe the side of my mouth with the back of my hand. When he's done, he does the same.

"Who're you?" He hiccups.

"Tina. You?"

"Chris." He manages before another wave of bile finds its way out.

"I'd say pleasure to meet you, but—"

I turn away from him (and the growing stench,) as another sound fills my ears. Screaming.

"HELP!" Alycia screeches. "AGH, HELP!"

I sprint to the pile of rubbish at the same time as Chris. She flings a leg over the fence to straddle it, whining out in fear as something chases her on the other side. "Get off of me!" She screams where we can't see. Another infected?

"Alycia! Alycia, grab my hand!" Chris runs close and holds out a hand for her to take, but she's too preoccupied swatting at whatever's on the other side of the fence. He struggles to grab a hold of her as she squirms, and I can only imagine what's happening on the other side of the wood. Chris grabs a light hold of her ankle as she thrashes around, and tugs on it to get her on our side. "Alycia! C'mon, take my hand!"

When he has a good enough grip Chris pulls at her and her body flies off the fence and onto the ground. Or, rather, right on top of Chris.

Alycia screams and wriggles out of his grasp, elbowing him in the face. "Let go of me!" Whatever spooked her must have spooked her bad. I drop to my knees and pull Alycia away from Chris, and I take a look at his face. Blood drops from his nose; I can't tell if it's broken or not. She hit him hard.

Travis and another woman come up to us. Yet another person I haven't met. Anyone else I should know about? She's clearly his mom, fussing as he gets up and asking if he's okay.

"I was trying to save you, Alycia!" Chris snarls. A hand flies to his nose and he holds it, the blood oozing onto his fingers. The bite in his words ring clear, but Alycia's still shaking, eyes staring through the wood of the fence.

Travis, voice quiet and calm, gently says, "Chris, calm down—"

It makes Chris fume—because of course it does—and he shouts, "No, dad, you calm down!"

Chris storms off to the Clarke house. I think it's good; he needs to clean up, and face the possibility of a broken nose. Poor thing. He only wanted to help.

"Chris!" His mother calls, but he doesn't acknowledge it. He stalks back into the house and out of everyone's eyesight.

A faint snarling fills my ears—one so familiar to what I'd heard earlier. Ones Mr. Dawson made before he was brutally shot and killed. Another one.

A small, fragile hand pulls through a space in between withered pieces of wood, and a face comes into view. She's Asian, on the older side, with short strands of black hair curving inward to her chin. Dried blood covers the bottom half of her jaw, some smeared above her lips. Her eyes, close-set and thin, are milky white. All characteristics of an infected.

"What's wrong with Su-Su?" Alycia asks Madison, scared. Susan growls at Alycia, teeth grinding harshly onto nothing. I shiver at the noise.

"Susan?" Madison asks. She takes a few cautious steps to the fence, and Susan begins to lightly growl at her. Her outstretched hand tightens into a fist, as if grabbing something in the air. Madison breathes out heavily, "Oh my god, Susan."

"She's sick." Chris' mother says.

"Is she bitten?" Travis asks. Is that how it spreads? Bites?

Madison answers, "I can't tell." She huffs, sounding defeated.

"She's not sick." Nick says. His arms are crossed against his chest, though his tone is anything but defensive. He says it like it's the easiest information in the world. "She's dead."

The realization comes slowly to Alycia; how Matt was sick earlier. The puzzle pieces fit in her mind, and her voice is quiet. "But, that's… That's not Matt."

It's defensive at first. Like she can't believe it. "He—he's not like that." A whimper.

She cries wildly. "He's not like that! Mom, he's not like that!" By the end, she's screaming and sobbing. "That's not him!" She points to Susan, tears in her eyes. "That's not him! That's not Matt!"

Her mother pulls her in close, hugging her tightly. The shift in Alycia's stance pulls her face away from the fence. Away from the truth.

"Why would you say that?" Travis asks Nick, close so Alycia can't hear.

"Because it's the truth." He answers simply.

It may be the truth, but the truth fucking sucks.