Pain. So much pain. Burning, searing pain in her throat, in her chest. Runner Forty-three can feel the inside of her throat burning away and blood beginning to flow downwards. She tries to hack it out but doing so makes the pain even worse.

She doesn't understand how-why. What was in that drink?

Suddenly her arms are held in place by two men-runners. She's had missions with them before. Her bloodied mouth is forced open and a liquid-another liquid-is forced down her throat. Her jaw is forced shut and a hand is clamped over her nose, forcing her to swallow the sour tasting liquid.

She doesn't understand why this would be given to her. She's sure whatever she drank before will kill her; It certainly feels like it will.

Her arms are released, and no hands are around her face, and in just a few seconds she knows why.

She vomits all over the floor, the burning in her throat becoming ten times worse as the contents of her stomach empty all over the floor and all over herself. She coughs and sputters, forcing herself to look at the younger girl standing in front of her.

This girl's face resembles nothing of her normal expression. It's cold and hard-a face an eleven-year-old should never make.

"Why?" Runner Forty-three chokes out, but with all the blood and vomit her words are gargled and non-coherent.

"Why the second drink?" Katelyn asks with a raised brow. "If you wouldn't have thrown all that up, it would've burned though your intestines. You would've died."

She's so calm, and the bleeding runner can't stop the tears that are in her eyes from spilling, from both pain and betrayal.

"In fact, you're still in critical condition. You need to be taken to the doctor to get medical attention immediately to stop the bleeding. But we won't be able to give you anything for your voice.

"M-my voice?" She forced out, but it doesn't sound like her. It's cracked and small.

"I'm surprised you can still speak right now," Katelyn says, although her face holds no emotion whatsoever. "After you recover you'll never be able to speak again."

"Why?" She's croaks out, horrified. It's becoming harder and harder to get the words out. The sound is coming and going, like a bad signal.

"Because I was told to."

Runner Forty-three looks at the girl in front of her with shock, but that shock morphs into anger-rage within seconds. She bares her bloody teeth as her pain filled voice withers away into almost nothing.

"I... hate... you." The words themselves are almost unrecognizable. But she knows Katelyn heard them; She knows she understood them.

Hands clamp around her arms so tightly she knows there will be bruises. She's forced to her feet as she swallows a mouthful of coppery blood. The runners-people she didn't care about but did trust-drag her towards the door, most likely about to bring her to the infirmary to stop the bleeding in her throat before she drowns in her own blood.

As she passes Katelyn, the person she trusted most, the person she would've given her life for, she scowls and spits at her face. For the first time the younger girl flinches, bringing up her fingers to wipe away the crimson saliva in disgust. She looks at the runner with a sliver of pain in her eyes.

"You always lose something at The AMTB. You know that. Wes lost his life; You lost your voice," She sighs deeply, "And I've lost your love."

Runner Forty-three opens her mouth to speak, but when she tries only puffs of air and small squeaks come out, squeaks that will soon no longer be there either. The horror of it-her voice being gone forever, nearly kills her. She doesn't want to cry, but there are already tears running down her cheeks so why should she stop now?

She's dragged off, her feet scuffing against the hallway as she tries to fight them off. Her feet kick at her captors in hopes of getting away. Anger fuels her acts. She can't scream as she flails around and that only makes her blood boil more.

She ignores the scared looks of those who see her. She ignores the questions that are asked, although she knows it's probably not much because you don't ask questions here. And no one cares about her. She knows that now.

Katelyn walks beside her in long strides, the younger girl's oddly long legs keeping up with the pace she's being dragged at. She doesn't blink when the man sends a hard kick to Runner Forty-three's ankle. It doesn't work in effectively stopping her from fighting, until he kicks her again, harder-much harder.

"You'll receive treatment for about three weeks, just to make sure your voice is completely gone and that you have no risk of your throat bleeding again," She explains as the runner is taken into the infirmary. There's a doctor already waiting for her.

All of this-it's been intricately planned. Katelyn's known about this for ages most likely. She was going to do this even before Wesley died.

The pain in her chest and the tightness in her throat isn't just because of the poison.

She's tugged and pulled until she's lying on a hospital bed, or the closest thing to one. There's a pain in her arm as a needle pierces her skin, sending the drug into her system. She swallows another mouthful of blood, feeling the world become a blur.

Katelyn's voice echoes into her ears as she drifts away.

"After you get your necessary treatments you'll be leaving for Mullins Military base in the United Kingdom. I know you'll like it there... Maybe there you'll move on from Wesley... And maybe you'll forgive me for this."

There's only one thought that passes through her mind before she blacks out.

Never.

•

Something hits my shoulder harshly, and I wake up with a nonexistent groan. I push myself up groggily, ignoring the sting of the multiple whelps the cover my body from the last mission. The amount of branches and thorns that swept across my skin are too much to count. The multiple scratches, whelps, and bruises that are scattered across my skin prove it.

I try not to think about that last mission too much, since I nearly drive myself insane with questions when I do. The thoughts about all of this nearly drives me insane to be honest. All of it. The apocalypse, my mission, that professor. Sometimes the pressure of my thoughts makes me think my head might literally split open.

I rub my still closed eyes and open them slowly, feeling a pounding in my head as light pours into my vision. I blink a few times until the world around me becomes clearer.

"You awake yet, sleeping beauty? I guess I shouldn't really call you that because you look terrible."

I glare at Caleb, who's chuckling slightly at his insult.

'Why are you in my tent?' I ask.

"Because one of kitchen workers told me to come get you. You're supposed to help with lunch."

I give him a look of confusion. 'Lunch?'

"Yeah, you slept through breakfast. Lunch is in an hour so I was, ahem, asked to come get you." He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. "Now hurry up and get dressed. There's something else I need to tell you."

Before I can ask what he's already gone, leaving me so I can get changed in private. As I slip off the nightgown and change into my day clothes-the same clothes I wear for everything-I think on how many hours of sleep I must've gotten.

In all honesty I'm not surprised I over slept. After returning and giving the doctor Patient Twenty-nine's files, the trio came along and practically begged me to spend some time with them. We played a game of soccer-which I lost-and after I ended up helping Willis with most of his math homework and Penelope with her reading. It wasn't much more but it was enough to send me to bed straight after helping prepare dinner.

I leave my tent with hesitation, shivering at the cold breeze that was kept away by my tent walls. Goosebumps are quick to rise on the flesh of my arms, and I rub at the skin hastily in attempts to warm it. Mid-September and the days keep getting colder and colder.

"Five," Caleb says, gaining my attention. He smiles and jerks his head to the side. "Come on."

I follow him through the Township, just nearly smiling at his cheerful demeanor. We start towards the kitchens, but halfway there he grabs my wrist and pulls me into a different direction. My eyes narrow in question, but the red-head just grins wider.

He drags me in front of a few buildings-the ones that most of the townspeople have been working on so we'll all get shelter. I stare at it for a second, sending a sideways glance to Caleb, who smiles slyly.

"Notice anything?"

I narrow my eyes at the building, searching for maybe a bit of paint or a new shrub. But nothing comes to mind...

Then my eyes widen in realization. The buildings... they're finished.

Caleb sees my face and laughs. "There was an announcement made this morning, but you of course were asleep. I know these three buildings aren't nearly enough for everyone, especially since one is for if someone gets anything contagious and has to be uh... contained, I guess? And the other are for the orphaned kids to all sleep in."

'So who all gets to sleep in the main building?'

"Janine was going to separate it between jobs. Runners get a certain building, those who help with gardening or building have a space and all that, but since some people want to be with a family member or friend she just chose a bunch of people to live in this building, and she said she'll do the same when the other buildings are built."

I nod. 'That's nice. Who's all staying here then?'

"I don't know most of the people she said. There were about twenty people she named, but I did hear my name, and yours, and Sam's and Dr. Meyers'."
His smile fades as I nod again, my expression neutral. "Hey, you don't seem very happy. I thought you wanted to stop sleeping in the cold."

'I do,' I'm quick to say. 'I'm just unsure how much I'll enjoy sleeping with nineteen other people.'

"Well, as far as I know no one in the town sleep walks, and I think everyone will be fine with you as long as you don't snore too loudly or scream in your sleep."

'Why would I scream in my sleep?' I ask curiously.

"You know, when you have nightmares," Caleb replied with a simple shrug if his shoulders.

'I have nightmares, but that doesn't mean I scream in my sleep.'

"Awesome, not that you have nightmares but the fact that you won't wake me up when you have 'em." He pauses in thought for a moments. "How often do you have nightmares?"

'Why?'

"No reason." He answers nonchalantly. I turn on my heel and begin walking towards the kitchens, knowing I'm probably going to get chewed out for being late. I really don't want to make it any worse for myself by coming in even later. Caleb walks beside me, our steps in sync as he stares with a look that says there's something more he wants to say.

'I'm guessing there's something you want to add to your answer,' I sign but still keeping my gaze ahead, too afraid to look at whatever expression his face holds.

"Well, I'm just saying if a certain someone knew you were having nightmares, especially if they're frequent, he'd sleep a little closer to you so when you wake up and are trying to tell yourself it's a dream he'll be there to-"

I raise up my hand to silence him. 'I already know where you are going with this and I'm going to have to ask you to stop.'

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I roll my eyes at that. 'I'm not five. I don't need comfort for a nightmare.'

Caleb's face turns serious at that. "Everyone needs comfort for nightmares."

I almost don't answer, because I'm shocked at how serious he is as he says that, but my pride and stubbornness get the best of me. I huff.

'Not me.'

"Since you believe that, especially you."

My brows knit together as I stare him. I'm a bit confused by his words, but I don't respond. My nightmares aren't nightmares. They're memories; Most of them things I did and now as punishment I'm forced to relive it when I close my eyes in slumber. I can't talk about my nightmares without talking about my past.

There's a tense silence that fills the air; It's like the cliche books say: it's think enough to cut it with a knife. I don't say anything because frankly, I have nothing more to say about the subject, and I can't think of any new subject to talk about, but apparently Caleb does.

"Do you have any more med runs?" He asks curiously, to which I merely shrug in response.

'Most likely. Maybe. Dr. Meyers hasn't said anything yet.'

"You came home pretty banged up yesterday. I mean, look at you," He gestures to my limbs, and I shrug again.

'Just the perks of the job.'

"If that's the perks then what's the bad stuff?"

'Being chased by the undead,' I answer, and Caleb sighs.

"I know you're not supposed to talk about your secret 'medicine runs' but you do realize when you come home looking like that I get worried, and so does Willis, Milo, and Penelope."

'Not going to mention Sam this time?' I ask in attempts to make light of the situation, but Caleb just frowns in annoyance.

"I'm sure he's worried too and all but he actually knows what happened. We don't."

'And you're not going to.'

"Five," He says through gritted teeth, and I sigh while resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

'My missions are secret for a reason, Caleb. As are my nightmares and whether or not I like anyone,' I know saying that last part is something I'm going to regret, so I continue on without giving my friend a chance to comment. 'Now I have to go help with lunch.'

By now we've already reached the kitchens, and once I go inside I see Sarah opening cans of spam and putting them on plates.

"Oh, there you are, Five. Was wondering when you were finally going to get here," She says in a cheery voice that I can't tell whether or not it's fake. "Asked your friend to go gettcha but I didn't think you'd take so much time to chatter away. Anyway, let's get this done. We have quite a few plates to make."

•

I hand out each plate with a small smile, nodding curtly when someone is polite enough to say thank you.

The lunch isn't much, just some spam, a few saltine crackers, and a small cookie that is a cheap attempt to be an Oreo.

It's fun to watch the kids' faces light up when they see a bit of a dessert. It's been so long since they've had an Oreo that this terrible remake no longer bothers them.

I hand Sam his plate, nodding when he mutters a soft, "thanks." He looks at me and chuckles lightly, to which I raise a brow.

'What?'

"I've just never got spammed by a girl before," He jokes, and my lips part slightly as I register his words.

'Did... did you just make a freaking pun about your lunch meat?'

"Maybe," He answers, dragging out the word and sending me a wink.

I ignore the feeling in my chest, telling myself this is probably the only time in his life the dork has appeared somewhat smooth.

He leans in and beckons me closer with his pointer finger, and being the curious little creature that I am I lean forward to hear what he has to say.

"Once you're finished the doc and I wanted to talk to you a bit. You're not doing anything after this right?" He whispers and I shake my head, ignoring the feeling of his breath on my face. "Alright. We'll be sitting at one of the tables waiting for you."

He gives me a small smile which I return, and then he's walking off. He sits down on one of the nearby picnic tables with Maxine and begins talking to her casually.

Looks like I will be going on another medicine run.

Since Sam was one of the last people to come get food, all I have to do is fix a few more plates before fixing one for myself. I don't waste anytime making my way to the two, plopping down in the hard wooden seat and watching them with wide, waiting eyes.

"Well, you were quick," Maxine says with a hint of surprise and amusement.

'You've got me curious,' I answer, shoving a cracker in my mouth. 'I want to know when I'm heading on another mission-getting closer to saving the world and all that.'

"Yeah, Five, about that-" Sam starts, but the doctor is quick to cut him off.

"We think that maybe it'd be best if your next few missions weren't focused on Patient Twenty-nine or the start of the apocalypse or... Paula." The words are all forced, and by the look on her face it almost seems like it's physically painful for her to say that.

'Why?' I ask immediately.

"You've been put at risk multiple times since we started these missions," She gently answers. "We just think maybe you should take a break and do something... less dangerous for at least one mission, maybe more."

'Every run is dangerous,' I sign with a stern expression. 'Every time I leave those gates my life is at risk. I know exactly what I'm doing and what I sign up for.'

Sometimes I don't want to do it, but I still know the risks.

"We-we know," Sam stutters with a small laugh. "We just... now your life isn't just in danger because of the zombies. Pro. Van Ark might be dangerous to you too. Paula's message did say he might be hiding something."

"And besides, I still haven't found anything out of the ordinary for Patient Twenty-nine. Average height, healthy weight. No known medical conditions-"

'What if I go back to the Keeley Center? Maybe I missed something.'

"If you did then Van Ark's probably destroyed it already," She argues, and I give a slight huff in annoyance.

Sure, I don't exactly like the secret keeping, and I'm still a bit iffy on the whole idea of a vaccine, but once I'm onboard with something it's a bit hard for me to just stop and take a break like this.

"I-It'll probably only be for a few missions, we think," Sam says noticing my sour face. "And I think it'll be nice not worrying about running into swarm territory or getting caught by a sketchy professor, don't you?"

'So my next run will be a supply run?'

"Yes, and it'll be a normal, safe run as well," Maxine says, and the look of joy on Sam's face as that's said makes me raise a brow in question.

'Is that it?'

They both nod. "We'll tell you when you'll have another mission regarding that, if we can find some new leads. Until we know what was different about Patient Twenty-nine you probably won't be going on anymore med runs."

Just when this was starting to get interesting too.

'Alright.' I stand up quickly. 'I'm going to go then.'

"But you've hardly touched your food," Sam points out, and I cram the Oreo imposter into my mouth.

'There. That's a cracker and a cookie. Besides I have to move what few things I have to my new sleeping space.'

"Oh, that's right," Maxine says. "You're one of the people that are in that building too."

I nod. 'And now I have to go put my things in there.'

"I'll help you," Sam volunteers, standing right away.

'That's okay,' I say with a wave of my hand. 'It's not much-'

"Well, then it'll be even less for you to carry." There's a hopeful glint in his eyes and I can't really decipher why it's there.

I nod, knowing arguing over such a small thing is pointless. Sam's instantly by my side as we walk back to my tent, waving goodbye to a smirking Maxine.

"So how're you feeling?" He asks with innocent eyes, and I simply blink.

'What do you mean?' I ask.

"Well, I mean..." His voice trails off as his dark eyes scan the superficial wounds on my skin. "Yeah."

'I'll live.' I sign in a nonchalant manner.

"Well, I know that, but still, I don't like when my runners comes back hurt, even a little bit."

'Better this than getting caught though.'

"I-I... yes, but-" his words are cut off as we enter my tent, and for a second I wonder why he's become so quiet until I remember.

This was Alice's old tent.

I peer at him through the corner of my eye, watching his eyes scan the tent barely big enough for one person to be comfortable in. I grab my sleeping bag, rolling it up so I can comfortably carry it and not make it dirtier than it already is. I grab my backpack, my nightgown, and a handful of my trinkets, and slip past Sam as smoothly as possible in attempt to not disturb him in his thoughts.

My movements, while quiet, do snap him out of his thoughts. He looks at me with embarrassment a clear feature, and I send him a look that tells him it's okay. He sets to work and grabs the few trinkets I myself couldn't get, and he grabs my axe, which has recently been cleaned of all zombie blood.

I awkwardly waddle over to the tent's exit and try to keep from dropping my sleeping bag that's situated under my arm. I look back at Sam and see he's staring at another object that's found its way into his hand: my Bible.

He notices my staring, and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just been a while since I've seen one of these."

I shrug in response, unable to sign an answer due to my hands being full. I duck outside the tent and Sam follows shortly after, him talking to me to keep the silence from becoming awkward.

"I've actually read that entire Spa Book For Dogs," He says, his eyes lighting up when I open my mouth in voiceless laughter. "One of the strangest books I've ever read. Do people really do that kind of stuff for their dog? Or, I guess, did people really do that kind of stuff for their dog? Since it's the apocalypse and people can just barely keep up hygiene for themselves.

"You know Evan has a dog, but I don't think I could picture him-yes, I could. I can totally picture him giving his dog a manicure."

I laugh again as we enter the sleeping area, and looking around I see it isn't much. Just a plain room with wood floors and a few lights fixtures here and there. They don't match, obviously, but they provide light and that's all that really matters. There's also a few small rooms off to the side which I'm guessing is for those who like to change in private, like me.

I carry my mat down to the back corner of the room and roll it out, patting away the dirt around it. I set down my things as nearly as I can, with Sam helping. It takes literally a minute since I have next to nothing.

"So, that's done. Now what?" Sam asks, but I don't answer, since I honestly have to plans today whatsoever. "Well, we'll figure something out. I'm glad this is finally finished. Well, one anyway. I-I think this is best; Warmer than outside, gives better shelter from the rain and no one sleeps alone. I-I mean they do but you know what I mean."

I nod as I suppress a smile.

"And I think this will help with nightmares."

I no longer have to suppress a smile.

'What did Caleb tell you?' I ask dark expression.

"Caleb, he-he didn't tell me-okay, he told me you were having pretty bad nightmares but you wouldn't tell him anything so for some reason he thought I should try to talk to you which I don't understand because isn't he-"

I grab at his hand to gain his attention, effectively shutting him up. 'I never said anything about my nightmares being pretty bad, or bad at all. It's nothing to worry about. Besides, why would anyone care about my bad dreams anyway?'

"Because we care about you?" Sam says in a guess. "I mean, I do." His eyes widen for a split second before he carries on. "And I-I don't like the idea of any of my runners having bad dreams. It messes up their runs. So, just... have good dreams, yeah?"

If only it were that easy.

A/N: Holy crap this chapter is so much longer than I intended it to be. I really hope you guys enjoy and please vote and comment.