Antonio was the first of the group to wake, and similarly, the first to realize what had happened while they had all been dozing restlessly.

He didn't have to look into Lovino's face, or even put his fingers to his pulse, to know that he had slipped away quietly during the night. His skin was cold, and felt like a mannequins hard, unforgiving plastic under Antonio's hands. Antonio had handled many cadavers in his life, and had watched the life drain out of the eyes of many of his patients, but he had never been unfortunate enough to see it happen to someone that he cherished so deeply.

Antonio tried to hold in the sob that threatened to escape his quivering lips, afraid to wake up Feliciano who was curled comfortably into Lovino's side, his fingers twined through his now cold and lifeless ones. He could do nothing but press his head into the space between Lovino's shoulder and head, his nose pressed to his dirty, but still delicate and supple flesh.

Feliciano and Ludwig would wake soon, and though part of Antonio did not want to be anywhere near when it happened, he knew that he had to. He couldn't lose his cool, despite how difficult this was. Eventually Feliciano would feel the cold resonating from Lovino's body, and he would awaken to see his brother, cold and lifeless beside him.

Antonio pressed his forehead to Lovino's one last time, pressing a kiss to his only unstained cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered, brushing a loose strand of his soft auburn hair behind his ear. "I'm so sorry, Lovi." Antonio squeezed his eyes closed tight to keep the warm tears that threatened to overflow at bay.

Antonio quietly walked across the room and shook one of Ludwig's broad shoulders. The man was meant to keep watch, just in case Lovino passed away in the night and turned, but Antonio knew it was unreasonable to ask that of him. They had been running for days straight, no person could stay awake at that point. They were only lucky that Lovino hadn't turned.

Ludwig opened his eyes in a panic, but upon seeing Antonio's face, he settled. He moved out of the way so Ludwig could see Lovino, whose chest was no longer rising and falling.

Ludwig sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and lowered his head into his hands. Though he didn't necessarily get along with Feliciano's older brother, he knew how much he had meant to him, and what this may do to Feliciano, who was already on the cusp of falling apart.

Antonio opened his mouth to say something, but Ludwig held a finger in front of his lips to quiet him. He walked over the bed on Feliciano's side, and leaned down close to him.

"Feliciano, wake up," Ludwig said, his voice surprisingly unforgiving and cold given the circumstance.

Antonio felt a spark of anger rise in him at the lack of empathy in the man's voice, but he quickly came to understand why he was acting the way he was. Immediately upon waking, Feliciano jolted upright and looked to his side.

Feliciano's eyes widened in horror at the sight of his brother, who he had already thought to have lost once, no longer breathing at his side. Short, panicked huffs of air escaped his throat, and he immediately threw himself over his brother, pressing his ear close to his mouth to check for breathing.

Feliciano turned his panic-stricken eyes on Antonio, "you need to do something, Antonio!"

Antonio couldn't bear to look any longer, and instead looked away from Feliciano. His eyes were already overflowing with tears, cutting muddy streams through the dirt staining his once pink cheeks.

"Why won't you help him?" Feliciano cried, turning back to his brother's lifeless form. Antonio couldn't stand still to watch as Feliciano desperately performed CPR on his brother. He had been dead for a long time, and CPR was not going to bring him back.

Nothing would bring him back.

Feliciano carried on performing the fruitless task for what felt like hours, and the only sound that could be heard from the room was Feliciano's breathy, desperate sobs – his brother's name dying on his lips.

"Please wake up, big brother," Feliciano cried as his warm, salty tears stained Lovino's cold, sallow skin.

"You're not being forceful enough, big brother," Natalia ground out from where she stood beside her brother. She reached down without her brother's consent and grabbed a handful of blonde hair, forcing the person it belonged to deep into a bucket of water.

"Natalia, I don't think he can take much more of this," he said, calm and collected despite the man's desperate thrashing.

"It doesn't matter," she shouted, pressing the man before her deeper into the water. If the water wasn't suffocating him, then the pressure from the floor certainly was. "If they don't tell us what's going on, then we'll all be finished."

Natalia finally raised the man out of the water and threw him to the floor, and, without missing a beat, pressed the flat of her foot against his throat before he could even get a full breath of air into his heaving chest.

"Tino Vainamoinen," Natalia whispered harshly, just loud enough for Tino to hear. "If you do not tell us where the rest of your group is, then we're going to have that little baby take your place."

Natalia removed her foot when Tino's face became a startling shade of blue. Of course, she only stopped with some coaxing and placating on Ivan's part.

"I told you, I have no idea where they could be now. If they were smart, then they already left the mall. People were trying to attack us in there."

Natalia heaved a sigh, "you must have made plans about where to go if you got that far, so tell me, Tino, what were those plans?"

Tino was still gasping for air, and Natalia was about to step on his throat again until Ivan pulled her away from him by her upper arms. Getting impatient and hurting him even more wouldn't get him talking.

Tino put his arms out in front of him so he was seated on his knees in front of the two siblings, swallowing hard before he began to speak.

"We were going to go south, but I have no idea if they all stuck to the plan," Tino gasped. "Now please, please, bring me Peter."

Natalia smirked to herself, then turned to Ivan to share the smug grin with him, the grin that told him that she knew better than him. However, before she left the room to inform the soldiers than one of the captives had broken, she hunkered down in front of Tino's breathless form until the tip of her nose was practically pressing against his face.

"You better not be lying," she whispered, too low for even Ivan to hear, "because I really will kill the child, no matter what anyone says."

Tino stared back into the woman's cold, blank eyes, unflinching.

As cruel as Tino though it to be, he desperately hoped that they would find someone, anyone, so that he wouldn't be made out to be a liar. He knew that they had planned to move north, but there was no telling what had happened. For all he knew, they could have all died in the mall. As it was, they had barely made it out unscathed themselves.

The woman scoffed and motioned for the man behind her – the one she had called brother – to follow her out. Tino had never been more excited to be left alone in his life, he didn't think he could handle being in a room with the two twisted siblings for a moment longer.

He intended to ask them about Peter as they were walking out, but he decided not to test their good graces. The man may not have given him any problems about it, but he knew the woman could easily change her mind. If he irritated her, there was a chance that he would never see Peter again.

So, instead of calling out after them, Tino bit his bottom lip and dropped to his rear on the cold, almost blindingly white floor. There was nothing left to do but wait, wait and hope that everything would work out for them in the end.

"Duck!"

Alfred – though considered slow by most – was blessed with incredibly quick reflexes. He didn't ask nor hesitate before he dropped to his knees, narrowly missing a large stone that fell from the side of the mall.

"What the hell was that?" Alfred asked Arthur, who was now trying to keep up with his gait. Despite Alfred's insistence that he was not fit to walk, Arthur had assured several times that he was perfectly fine. He would occasionally hiss, and he appeared to have an uncomfortable limp, but he would glare if Alfred would even reach out to lend him a hand.

"Someone from inside the mall, I'm assuming," Arthur said from beside him, his head turned up to the darkened building.

"They can rot there," Alfred cursed, "they could have joined us, but instead they tried to kill us. Now look where they are; they're wounded, they've lost people, and the infected are swarming them because of all the noise they made."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Arthur said as they turned a corner into the parking corral. He knew he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, but he felt a small jolt of sadness when he realized that two of the cars were missing. He was happy that even a small part of the group had escaped, but he was sad that they hadn't been with them when they had. Now, there was no way of knowing what way they had gone, and if they would ever find them. They had agreed upon going north, but depending on what state the group was when they left the mall, there was no telling what way they had decided on.

Alfred pressed a firm hand down on his shoulder, as though sensing his thoughts, "I know, but at least some of them made it out."

Arthur put his head down, his dirty blonde hair casting a shadow over his fine, pale features. His hair had become shaggy, and longer than he had ever let it grow, and he was only now taking notice to it. He hadn't seen himself in a mirror for a while, but he could only imagine that he looked like a mess – if not, he certainly felt like it.

"We might find them, and we might not, but at least we're not alone in this. It isn't a good situation, but it could have been worse." Arthur knew that Alfred was only doing this to make him feel better, but if anything, it was only making him feel worse. He knew Alfred all too well to believe that he was in such high hopes, Alfred was just as afraid as he was.

"You're right," Arthur whispered despite the protest rising up in him, "I mean, if it weren't for you, I would have died back there. As it is, I was certain you had died when that man had thrown you over the drop."

"Let's not think about that," Alfred said, a slight crease forming between his brows. He quickened his pace and trudged toward the two cars that remained in the corral, presumably so Arthur wouldn't see look of distress on his face. "We need to find shelter before it gets dark, and our best bet is if we leave now," Alfred said from in front of him.

Arthur - trying his best to remain optimistic for Alfred - whose very mental state was constantly on the cusp of tipping over, nodded his head and followed close behind him.

Unlike the other two groups, they had started the red car without any problems, and had done like the group had planned and drove north, hoping upon hope that they would find someone along the way. Even one person from their group would be better than nothing.

Alfred and Arthur drove for miles without even so much as glancing at each other. The further they got out into the country, the direr their situation was beginning to look. Gas was generally holding up well, but if they would need to drive for an extended period, gas and oil would eventually become a problem for them. If it came to that, then they would need to begin walking on foot, leaving them exposed to the elements, and the infected.

Arthur felt his eyes slipping closed, his head feeling incredibly light. He tried to blame it on the stress from the day, but he knew that it was something more than just that. The injuries he had sustained were finally presenting themselves, and they were not going over well with him.

However, before Arthur could bring it up, Alfred stepped on the breaks so hard that Arthur hit his forehead on the windshield. Not hard enough to cause a concussion, but hard enough to warrant some anger at Alfred. He was partly happy, however, as it had woken him up enough to be aware of what was going on.

"Sorry," Alfred shouted before Arthur even had a chance to complain, "but I think you're going to forgive me for that lump in between your eyes when you see this."

Arthur rubbed the red mark that was beginning to form on his forehead, leaning over Alfred's lap to look out of the driver's side window. What he saw before him was nothing, nothing but dense trees, darkness, and even more plain, rolling landscapes.

"There's nothing there," Arthur said, a note of panic threatening to break into his voice. Deep down, in a part that he didn't want to acknowledge, he thought that maybe – just maybe – this was the beginning of Alfred's breakdown. He didn't know what a full mental breakdown entailed, but he knew that hallucinations were never a good sign of anything. However, Arthur's worry was soon quashed when Alfred let out a good natured sigh.

Alfred turned the steering wheel until the headlight illuminated a large, boorish looking house with its windows completely sealed up with boards. Whoever was in there had taken their time to make sure the place was sealed up and secure.

"You don't think it could be…"

"I don't think, I know," Alfred quipped, pointing at a charcoal grey car that was parked off to the side of the building. It was strategically hidden, but coupled with the darkness and the light of the headlights, it was easy to tell that it was one of the ones they had planned on using to escape.

Arthur let out a sound that was something between a sigh of relief and a sob. He knew that there was a chance that his younger brother would not be there, but finding other members of the group was a step in the right direction. If they could find these members, then surely the others couldn't have gone very far.

"There's someone outside," Matthew whispered.

"Tell them to leave, I need a few more minutes of sleep," Gilbert said sleepily, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes. Though he had promised to keep watch, he had ended up dozing next to Matthew on the bad, wrapped up in a multitude of blankets. It was nice to feel warm again, a small luxury that had been stripped from them when the infected had suddenly started filling the streets.

"I'm afraid that it's going to be those people from the mall again," Matthew said. Streetlights were no longer working, and it was impossible to see outside through the darkness. "They came here in a car."

At this, Gilbert finally sat up from the cocoon of warmth, hissing when his feet met the cold hardwood flooring.

"What is it?"

"It might be some of our own," Gilbert shrugged, as though he didn't feel excitement and hope running through his veins at the prospect of seeing Ludwig again. We can't just leave them out there with the infected, we need to help them.

"But what if it's-"

"We'll deal with that if it comes to it," Gilbert said, his voice coming our far harsher than he had intended.

Gilbert turned around to look at Matthew, who was still partially under the blankets. Though he didn't look upset by Gilbert's words, he still looked taken aback.

"I'm sorry," Gilbert whispered, crawling across the bed so he was nose-to-nose with Matthew.

"It's fine," Matthew said, "I want to see them as much as you do, but I can't help not trusting people anymore. It's bad enough that infected people are trying to kill us, but it's a whole other thing when people who are healthy like us are trying to kill us."

"Healthy," Gilbert questioned with a cocked brow.

"You know what I mean," Matthew smiled, "and you're getting better. That, I am sure of."

Gilbert ran a hand through Matthew's sleep warm hair, glowing orange from the light of the candles. He looked like he should have, comfortable, warm, and clean, something that none of them had been in a long while. He wondered, absently, as he looked into Matthew's soft blue eyes, if he would have fallen for him if the circumstances had been different.

Gilbert pressed a soft kiss to Matthew's temple, where his own injury was, and then to his soft lips. "Stay here when I go down, if something happens, you can leave through the window. There's a tree close to the bathroom window, you're better off high up from the ground until the morning comes."

"I'm coming down with you, Gilbert," Matthew said without missing a beat. "You can't protect me alone, that's not how this world works anymore. You need my help as much as I need yours."

Gilbert sighed, albeit good naturedly, "I really don't have a choice in the matter, do I?"

"No, you don't."

From what Alfred could tell, there were no infected around them. However, he did not want to take any chances, and drove as close as he could to the boarded up front door. He was certain that someone inside was bound to hear the sound of the wheels crunching the gravel, or see the headlights cutting through the smalls breaks in the boards.

He let the car stand, idling quietly, and waited.

He didn't want to go outside, with the chances of being attacked by one of the infected weighing heavily on his mind. However, his biggest concern was Arthur getting attacked. He couldn't live with himself if he were to let something terrible happen to Arthur again.

"What are we doing?" Arthur asked, his voice sounding thick. "We'll draw attention to ourselves this way, the infected could be attracted to this. It's night time."

Alfred tried to blame the sound of Arthur's voice on him being tired, "I know, but we're in even more danger if we get out. At least if the infected start coming, we can drive away in the car. We're in danger if we're constantly on our feet."

Arthur seemed to agree with this, as he grew quiet from where he sat beside Alfred. He seemed to be in quite some pain, and fidgety to get some rest. His legs were growing restless, and his eyelids heavier by the second.

"Come on," Alfred said impatiently under his breath. He was tempted to lay on the horn, but he knew that he would put himself, and the people inside the building, in danger by doing so.

He was almost about to give up, to drive away and stay in the car at night in the middle of a field where they could see everything coming around them, when one of the boards in front of the window of the door shifted out of place. Even though he could only see one of the person's eyes, the makeshift eyepatch and the startling pink eyes could only belong to one person.

"Gilbert," Arthur said, as excitedly as he could muster. His voice was alarmingly low, and it was clear now that it was not just exhaustion causing Arthur's eyelids to flutter.

"Shit," Alfred cursed, "shit, shit, shit."

Arthur's head began dipping forward, his eyelids fluttering slowly closed.

"No, keep them open," Alfred demanded, his voice louder than necessary. He couldn't let Arthur fall asleep. Though he knew the chances of the man dying were low, there was still a strong chance that he could go into shock – something akin to a coma. There was also a chance that he wouldn't come out of that shock.

The door to the front of the house opened, and Gilbert came bounding out. It seemed as though he had seen Arthur slumping over, judging by the alarmed look on his face. Though he was very focused on Arthur's condition, Alfred felt relief flood through his system when he saw Matthew's face staring back at him from the door of the house.

The passenger door opened, and the lights came on inside the car. Alfred hadn't even thought about Arthur's other injuries until he saw the puddle of blood pooling around Arthur's thighs.

"Oh, God," Alfred said, the only few words that he could muster. He hadn't realized it had gotten so bad, he must have been in so much pain.

Gilbert eyed the mess for a quick second, and when he realized what it was, he unbuckled Arthur from the seat and lifted him out of the car bridal style.

"Matthew can take a look at him," Gilbert reassured, making eye contact with Alfred to make sure that he was still there with them. "Calm down, he'll be fine."

Alfred nodded his head, turning the key in the ignition to shut the car off.

"Come on," Gilbert said, craning his head toward the house. "It's warm, and we can talk inside."

Alfred followed suite without a word, watching quietly as Matthew took Arthur out of Gilbert's hands – listened quietly as Gilbert leaned in to explain what was wrong – and quickly made his way upstairs. Gilbert didn't need to know what had happened, as the explanation was in all of the blood soaking into the passenger seat of the car.

As Alfred waited for Matthew to come walking back down the stairs, to save himself, he tried to keep his mind off of the fact that Francis was nowhere to be seen.

Antonio had let himself out of the room early on, knowing that his presence would only serve to upset Feliciano even more. He didn't blame Feliciano for pinning Lovino's death on him, as he himself was doing the same, but it didn't mean that he wasn't hurt by the implication. He had promised Lovino the very moment he met him that he would protect him, and he hadn't been able to keep that promise. If he had, then he would have been the one who had been bit, and not Lovino.

Antonio scrubbed his hands over his face, weary and upset not just from the day's events, but from what came before them. He had failed in every way possible, and there was no way of correction those failures.

He listened through the door, though not intentionally, as Ludwig tried his best to calm Feliciano. He had taken a stern approach to calming the man down beforehand, but it had become clear very quickly that it wouldn't work. Feliciano was responding to nothing, and Antonio feared that he would never be able to again.

Antonio heard a crash from inside the room, presumably Feliciano knocking something over in a fit of rage, followed by a loud, gut-wrenching sob. Under normal circumstances, he would have been concerned about the infected being drawn to the sound, but he no longer cared. Idly, he wondered if the infected finding them would be for the best. They could just do like Lovino, fall asleep and never wake up again. They would be able to escape from the world that had been so unreasonably cruel to them.

As it was, they weren't fully aware of where they were. The group was supposed to go north, but they had ended up going south because of the infected that had ended up swarming them. The rest of the group were probably headed in the opposite direction, and there was very little chance that they would meet up again. As it was, the very thought of going back to the mall was ridiculous in and of itself.

Antonio himself found himself unable to emotionally react to the situation. It was as though he had drained all of his reserves, and the only thing left for him to do was pity himself, and wallow in his own hopelessness. Tears no longer sprang to his eyes, and the trembling that characteristically followed them never wracked his body. He could now only sit and think about the man who had died under his care, and the people who had been damaged because of it.

Antonio closed his eyes to the onslaught of terrible thoughts. It felt like they had only been shut for a few moments, but judging by the look on Ludwig's face when he opened them a second time, it had been longer than that. Ludwig stood before him, bright red marks and scratches marring his angular face.

"What-"

"It's fine, they aren't dangerous wounds. Feliciano is upset, but he's not upset to truly harm anyone."

Only now, at the mention of Feliciano's name, did Antonio realize that the crashing, screaming and sobbing from the other room had completely ceased. There was now nothing left but the sound of the wind whistling through the weak boards in the house, and the trees rustling outside.

It would be a windy night.

"Is he alright?"

Ludwig laughed bitterly, "well, as alright as he can get, I suppose. He fell asleep."

Antonio put his head down on his knees and let out a small sigh.

"He doesn't blame you, Antonio, he just needs an outlet, and you unfortunately were chosen. He blames himself, if anything. He knows that he never would have seen Lovino if it were not for you."

Antonio raised his head and crossed his arms over his knees, resting his head in the crook of them. He knew that was true, but similarly he could have said that he would have never escaped if not for Lovino. As far as Antonio was concerned, he would have died without having a reason to escape. Lovino had been that reason, but now he was dead.

"Will he turn?" Ludwig asked, finally breaking the heavy silence.

"It varies from person to person," Antonio said without missing a beat, "one of the cadavers only woke up two days after the very first, and some just never woke up at all. I'm hoping that Lovino is one of those cases."

"The room is blocked off, and Feliciano is in a different room. I think it best if we leave while he's sleeping, and leave Lovino here. We'll never be able to leave this place if Feliciano is awake."

Antonio nodded his head slowly, they needed to pick up and leave immediately. He got to his feet quickly, not wanting to stay in the house any longer.

"It's fine," Ludwig said, pressing a steadying hand to his shoulder and squeezing down gently, "I'll take Feliciano out to the car, you can say goodbye."

"No," Antonio said, shaking his head slowly. "I already did, I don't think I'll be able to look at him again."

Ludwig seemed as though he was about to protest to the notion, but he didn't stop him when he brushed past him and walked into the room where Feliciano slept restlessly. Antonio knew that, much like Feliciano, he may lose his mind if he had to say goodbye to Lovino. He wanted to remember him happy and healthy, not cold and unmoving like he was now.

"Let's go," Antonio said from over his shoulder, Feliciano balanced in his arms carefully. "We need to get moving before it gets dark out."

Ludwig didn't protest, and as they drove away from the house, Ludwig didn't comment on how fast Antonio was driving.

The farther they were away from the scene, the better.

Natalia sat behind a large, stainless steel stable. Her heels clacked against the ground impatiently as she waited to hear tell from their boss. If they intended to find the man that they were looking for, then they needed to leave as soon as possible.

She let out a long suffering sigh of relief when one of her soldiers came walking through the door, large red file folder in hand.

"This is him," the soldier said, "the man that you're looking for."

Natalia unceremoniously grabbed the file out of the soldier's hands, ripping it open impatiently. Ivan and Yao both looked over her deceivingly slight shoulders from where they stood behind her, recognition lighting up behind their eyes upon seeing the picture. A picture of the man that they had been looking for all along was pasted onto the first page, and below it, in bold red letter read:

Patient Zero: Lovino Vargas.

A/N: Oh man, this came out far later than I intended! I was looking back at some of the earlier chapters, and I was shocked to see that this fic is already two years old. I started writing this in my senior year of high school, and here I am now, a sophomore at Uni!

I'll try to update as much as possible, but I make no guarantees. Like I said, I won't drop this fic, and I do have plans for the end, but I'm very busy at the moment. Finals are crawling up on me quickly, and I have very demanding Creative Writing assignments to keep up with.

I am totally not adverse to you guys sending me asks telling me to hurry up, or offering some sort of recommendations on my tumblr! Again, I'm always on, and I try my best to answer them ASAP!