I'm sick... So expect constant updates on this story! xD

So Dallas and Kammie meet someone from camp in this chapter, but don't get your hopes up!

Questions, comments, concerns, ideas? Review!

As soon as I was free from the view of Peyton's dying form everything sped up for us. Dallas dragged me to his truck while we sprinted past more people trying to kill us. We both clambered into the vehicle and locked the doors shut, Dallas roaring the engine to life and speeding towards the police station. Traffic was slowly building but Dallas knew every shortcut. Of course he knew where it was. He'd been down there on more than one occasion. Most times accompanied by a carefree moi. We used to get in trouble all the time. Our on-campus officer at the High School, Officer Gomez, knew us both pretty well by the time we graduated.

I smirked at the memories. Gomez, with that daft flashlight that he'd shine in everyone's faces whenever he was in a bad mood, and the handle-bar Mr Monopoly mustache. Dallas and I covered his office in magnetic fish for April Fools one year, back when we first started dating. The look on his face was worth it all when he came running out and into the commons, holding a neon green fish in the air and waving it about at some freshman. God we got away with so much back then. Peyton even used to call us Bonnie and Clyde, so much that Dallas and I were getting matching tattoos on our wrists as soon as I hit 18. Dallas already had his, half a heart that said "Clyde" and underneath it had "Kammie" written in cursive letters with a rose behind it all.

Oh God, Peyton. Flashes of her tiny body being torn apart. Screaming for Dallas and me to help her but we were too shocked to move. Crunching and slurping as her attackers moaned through mouthfuls of her skin and muscle.

Thick red spurting across the tile floor. Slick and wet. Peyton's clothes soaked in it. Her jeans, her trainers, the top I bought her that said "Gingers Rule!" because we were both natural redheads. Ripped and shredded and blood-sodden.

Those people. Clothing old and dark and soiled with dark maroon. Skin pale, gray. Hair matted, greasy, stringy. And those eyes. Clouded and red-rimmed, hazy, completely void of emotion.

I held back another wrench in my stomach.

"Dallas, hurry." I sobbed, holding myself tightly. He didn't argue and sped off down the backstreets.

The police station was hectic, uniformed men and women rushing about like chickens with their heads cut off (and I tried and failed to not imagine that literally). Dallas stopped the truck and we both jumped out, latching onto the nearest officer and wearing her down.

"Excuse me! We need help! Our friend-"

"I'm sorry, I'm off-duty. I'm going home to my family."

"But there was a murder-"

"There's been a shit load of those lately, okay? Listen to the radio and fuck off!" Dallas looked like he was going to knock her lights out as she ran off to her car. I went off to find someone else who would help us.

"Excuse me!" I grabbed the arm of an officer who was heading past. "Can you please help us?" I managed through choked sobs. "My name's Kammie. Just- my mate was just murdered! Right in front of us!"

He looked down at me sympathetically and looked over at Dallas, "You and your boyfriend should get out of the city. They're saying there's a refugee camp over in Atlanta."

"What d'ya mean, man?" Dallas asked. "Refugee camp for what?"

"Survivors. It's gettin' pretty bad here."

"What is?"

"Don't you watch the news?"

Dallas shook his head. "Just moved. Can't afford a TV."

The officer sighed. "Look, turn on your radio and head to Atlanta. Don't let them things bite you, and keep your loved ones close as you can." He said the last words with a sharp look to Dallas, who nodded slowly. I turned to the officer before he left,

"Thanks, officer..."

"Walsh. Shane Walsh. Your welcome. And good luck to you both."

"You, too, man." Dallas said. Then he left and Dallas and I climbed back into his truck and started off down the road again.

So, Atlanta. The city is our safe zone. From what? What were we running from? The people who killed Peyton? If you could call them 'people', after what they did. And what did that cop say? Don't let them bite you. Aye, thanks mate. Like I didn't know that already. I'd just seen one of my close friends ripped apart and gnawed on. You really think I'm going to jump into the arms of one of those cannibals? Damn fucking Americans.

I sighed, remembering the rest of Walsh's words, and flicked on the radio.

"-emergency response system has been activated. All civilians are asked to get to the nearest military checkpoint. Please remain calm and keep away from the infected. Help is on the way-"

Dallas shut it off in annoyance.

"I uh, I'm takin' us to th' house first. Get some supplies and shit."

I nodded slowly, "'Kay."

"Yer stuff's all packed up in yer suitcase still, right? So should make things easy. Just grab that, and get some food and stuff, too."

"Okay."

"And uh, I'll get the um, camping gear. First-Aid kit."

"Yeah."

He sighed and his grip tightened on the wheel.

"Jesus Christ."

I followed his gaze through the front window and started crying all over again. The slight traffic we had experienced before was now a complete full-stop bumper-to-bumper mess. There was no way to get to the house.

And Atlanta was looking further and further away.