Guest: Don't cry lol! Don't worry. Well...actually... worry.

Thatkidwiththeunkempthair: So glad it meets with your approval! Thanks for reviewing.

Oy: Thank you so much for your feedback, I'm glad my portrayal of the different characters is on base.

Commander Maxwell: Your review made me so happy. It means so much to hear that the writing is so hugely appreciated! I hope you stick with me.

Warning: this chapter contains some light violence, light cursing, and hints of predatory slash resulting from previous chapters.

Enjoy! And I can't hold back this small spoiler... not everything is as it seems at the end of this chapter, so don't panic.

Chapter Four

"Run"

The collector glared at the people standing outside his door as he trotted down the steps, his makeshift armor swinging at his sides. They watched him approach the glass, all of them looking slightly surprised to see anyone at all.

"What?" He asked them, red in the face. "What do you want?"

One of their number, a dark-skinned woman, stepped to the front of the group and held up a backpack and a rifle. "We're looking for our friend," she told him. "And we found this outside your place."

The collector stared at the items, keeping his face unresponsive, but he couldn't hide the bruise on his temple or the sweat on his face. "So?" He demanded roughly, his patience running out.

The woman exchanged a look of displeasure with another member of the group, an older, white-haired man, before looking back at the collector through the door. "So," she said dryly, "This stuff belongs to another one of our friends. You see anybody come by here?"

"No," said the collector. "No one's been in this town for over a year. No one but zombies. Now if you don't mind, I'm busy here."

Roberta Warren frowned, glancing at the others again. "Why would our friend's gun by leaning against your house?"

The collector threw up his hands, losing his patience. "How should I know? He probably got snatched by a zombie, that's what happens these days to kids who wander around on the streets by themselves!"

Warren gazed suspiciously at him for a moment, and then turned to face the rest of the group. "Sorry to bother you, sir. If you see either of them, tell them their group is looking for them."

The collector nodded sarcastically as the group moved off his front steps.

Warren stopped walking when they were out of eyesight and around the corner, turning to Doc, Addy, and Vasquez with a skeptical look on her face.

Addy was rounding on her, glaring at Warren in confusion. "Where are we going?" She asked tensely. "That guy was lying."

"I know," said Warren, pulling her pistol out of her belt. "I never said anything to him about any 'kid.' Let's do this. Be careful—we don't know why he's lying. Don't shoot him if he catches us. But don't let him pull any tricks, either."

INSIDE, FOURTH FLOOR...

Murphy eyed the pin in 10K's hand with a look of sudden inspiration. "Hey—if you can pick a lock, think you can do this collar?"

10K carefully reached out to the collar around Murphy's neck, maneuvering it in a half-circle to figure out what kept it in place. Deep-set in the strong, black material was a thin bolt, attached to two metal squares.

"Maybe…" said 10K under his breath, and he set to work, shoving the small pin into the opening of one of the metal squares. He moved it around a bit, trying to feel the tumblers inside, and after a few small adjustments, he felt the pin catch against them. He held it still for a second, then lifted it slowly, pushing it a little further into the metal as he did so. There was a metallic click, and the bolt slid back, letting the collar fall into Murphy's lap.

"Thanks," said Murphy appreciatively, and he tossed the collar aside, making to climb precariously to his feet.

10K was already standing. He crossed the room toward the door, face set, and knelt in front of the handle. Gently, he reached up and inserted the pin into the lock, a frown of concentration creasing his brow.

Murphy made a growling sound in his throat, following 10K across the room. "Get your collar before you get the door, kid," he told him. "Here, give me the pick, I'll do it."

"I'll get it…" muttered 10K without looking at Murphy, chewing on his bottom lip as he worked on the door. His eyes were narrowed, and he tuned out almost every other thought as he wiggled the pin slightly up and down inside the wide, old-fashioned keyhole.

"Hurry up and get it then!" Murphy ground out, bracing himself against the wall next to 10K. "If that thing comes off, the shitsack can't get us from a distance. He'll have to get close, and if he does that…" Murphy trailed off ominously, his eyes sparking angrily.

But 10K didn't seem to be listening. "I almost got it…" he breathed, giving the pin another small push. There was a solid click as the door unlocked. Exhaling sharply, 10K stood, pulling open the door and leaning out to look in both directions. "Come on—"

Murphy grabbed 10K by the shoulder, attempting to turn him back around.

"Hey!" Shouted 10K in surprise, whirling around and thrusting his arms against Murphy, pushing him away. His breathing had quickened again as he took a step back, and he stared at Murphy with widened eyes.

Murphy caught his balance easily, despite his weakened state, and held out his hands nonthreateningly. His brows were drawn together, and there was a hint of reluctant worry in his eyes. "I just need you to get that collar off before you go rampaging off into the hallway and get yourself blasted. That's all.."

10K blinked, looking at Murphy for another second. Then he glanced down at the pin in his hand. "I said I'll do it," he said, sounding winded, and looking back up.

"Well then?" Demanded Murphy.

10K reached up to his neck, twisting the collar around to the front where he could access the lock. He went silent again as he got started, trying to be able to see the mechanism, moving the pin this way and that as he tried to slow his breathing.

Murphy watched him work, the frown lines spreading across his forehead. After about a minute of nothing but the tiny, scraping sounds of metal against metal, Murphy cleared his throat. "Listen, kid… I know we're not friends. But you can trust me, you know that, right?"

10K was concentrating on the collar, but at Murphy's words he gave a small nod, not looking up from the bolt. "Yeah."

"That… scumbag… what he did… well, he's the devil," Murphy went on, as though he was reluctant to speak at all, but couldn't stop himself. "Some people are big piles of shit, and it's not your fault."

10K nodded, still craning his neck to be able to see what he was doing.

"Got it?" Murphy pressed, sounding agitated. "You hear me?"

10K nodded slowly again, still seeming as though he wasn't really listening, though in truth he was hanging onto every word Murphy spoke. He held his breath when he heard the tumblers click. Now it would just take some quick, careful maneuvering…

"Are you even listening to me, kid?" Demanded Murphy. "You better be, or I swear to…" he cut himself off, and 10K looked up in surprise when he stopped talking.

Murphy was standing stock still, staring past 10K out the door. That's when 10K heard it, too: distant, echoing footsteps, like someone running up the stairs, and the sound was getting closer.

In a split second, Murphy had grabbed 10K by the upper arm and yanked him out through the open door and into the hallway. "Hurry up!" He muttered, and though his speed was stunted by his blood loss, he was able to move quickly. Murphy and 10K sprinted side by side down the hall, away from the footsteps. At the end of the hallway, Murphy jerked his head toward the right, and with a quick glance over his shoulder back down the hallway, 10K followed him at a run.

They had reached the end of the second hallway when they heard a furious yell echo loudly from where they had come. 10K turned toward the sound and tried to keep running, but one of his feet caught his other ankle, almost sending him tripping to the floor. Murphy had him by the arm again and heaved him back up, barely breaking his stride. "Don't look back! Move it, kid! There, the stairs! Come on!"

They barreled down a second set of stairs, past several more barred windows, and came out on some kind of landing lined with doors on both sides. Murphy pushed one open, looked inside, and moved on to the next one. "Looks like we're on the second floor now," he muttered, shoving open another door and peering hastily around inside. "All the damn windows are barred..." He pulled the second door shut, moving on.

Above them, up the stairs and down the hallway, they heard their pursuer give another yell of anger. "You're not getting away! Stop trying to run!" His voice echoed off the marbled walls, and 10K could tell he was getting close to the stop of the stairs.

"In here," hissed Murphy, opening the third door and gesturing sharply for 10K to go inside.

Swallowing a deep sense of foreboding, 10K moved past Murphy into the dimly lit room.

"The guy has the front door electrified, we gotta find another way out," panted Murphy as quietly as possible, closing the door behind them and standing against it as a block. "Hurry up and get that damn collar off you!"

"I came in through a side door, we can leave through there," said 10K in an undertone, reaching into his pocket for the lock pick. He rooted around for a second, then froze, looking stricken.

"What?" Hissed Murphy, stepping closer. "What is it?"

"The pin—I—I must have lost it when we were running…" 10K looked slowly back up at Murphy. "I don't have it."

Murphy glared incredulously. "You have got to be kidding me. A knife, get your knife, I'll cut the thing off."

10K shook his head, paling. "I only brought the handgun, and he…" he swallowed hard. "He took it. All my other stuff's in my bag, and I left it outside."

Murphy stared as though he was entirely unwilling to hear what 10K was saying. "You're not kidding, are you?" He demanded dryly after a long second.

10K didn't say anything, or move a muscle.

"Come here," growled Murphy, reaching out and grasping 10K by the collar, yanking him closer despite 10K's nervous burst of protests. Murphy tugged on the collar, twisting the black material, trying to rip apart the bolt, but the collar was too strong. He dug his fingernails into the metal square, but nothing he did had any effect on the lock. "Damn it," he growled on a long exhale.

10K, who had been holding tightly onto Murphy's arms as the man tugged at the collar, finally felt Murphy release him, and he took a quick step back.

"Fine, it's fine," Murphy was muttering, his eyes skimming over the threadbare room. "Help me find some kind of weapon. I'll pike him before he can even open his mouth…" He hurried over to a closet door and opened it, bending down to search the corners.

10K, still looking pale, took to the other side of the room, scanning under the table, behind some scrappy chairs, and inside a small cupboard. His eyes fell on a two-foot piece of metal pipe on the shelf and he grabbed it, turning around.

"Murphy!" He called in a loud whisper. "I found a—"

He was cut off abruptly as the collar around his neck buzzed loudly and he stiffened, dropping the pipe. His legs collapsed and he fell to the floor, hard, surging with electricity. The metal pipe landed beside him with an earsplitting crash.

"KID!"

10K vaguely registered Murphy's voice through the siege of high voltage tearing through his body, and the edges of his vision started to blacken as he thrashed on the floor.

Murphy's face swam into view above him just before the lights went out, and he lost consciousness.

"Wake up!"

10K felt a hard slap to the side of his face, and his shoulders were being shaken roughly by someone.

"Open your eyes!"

Another hard slap, and this time he opened his eyes, a flood of panic taking him as he realized he was being held down.

"Hey—no—don't! Get off!" He stammered wildly, pushing against the hands on his shoulders, kicking his knees up and trying to scoot out from underneath the person's hold.

"Whoa, it's me! It's Murphy, don't kick me! You have to get up, we gotta make a run for the back door!"

10K stilled, his eyes focusing on Murphy's face. He inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly. "Sorry—I'm—I didn't mean to—"

"Get up, we gotta move! Which way's the way out?"

"East," said 10K unsteadily, letting Murphy help him back to his feet, but before they could make a move toward the door, they heard a low knocking coming from the other side. They both froze where they stood.

"Anybody home?" Came the stranger's sickening voice, followed by a dark laugh. The door handle turned, and the door swung open, revealing the collector standing on the other side. In one hand he held a cocked pistol, and in the other he gripped the small, black remote. When he saw Murphy and 10K, his upper lip curled in a silent leer.

Murphy shunted 10K out of the way, moving in front of him and picking up the metal pipe from the floor. He held it out toward the stranger. "Come one step closer," he challenged him, poison dripping off his tone.

The stranger gave a merciless laugh. "Thanks for dropping that, by the way," he smirked, indicating the metal pipe. "If I hadn't heard it, I could've been searching every room between here and kingdom come." He eyed 10K, and an angry, disappointed look crossed his face for a second. "I knew one of you still had your collar on, and that's what makes this thing so useful." He held up the remote. "Three hundred foot range, through solid stone, up, down, in every direction."

"I'll make your death slow and painful," snarled Murphy, wielding the pipe in front of him. "I won't give you mercy. You don't deserve mercy."

"Is that a fact?" The stranger's lip twisted in a menacing half-grin. He raised the remote, and pressed down hard on it with his thumb.

As 10K hit the floor again behind Murphy, Murphy let out a furious snarl of rage and raised the metal pipe above his head, swinging it down toward the stranger's head as he leaped across the space between them.

The stranger ducked under the pipe, jumping to the side and avoiding being brained by only a few inches. But it caused him to stop pressing the remote, and 10K could breathe again. He forced himself to sit up and clambered to his feet just as Murphy brought the pipe down again in a cutting arc, straight toward the stranger's head.

There was a gunshot, and Murphy staggered back. The pipe clattered to the floor and rolled to the wall.

10K watched the scene as though in slow motion, his mind unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

The stranger had the pistol pointed at Murphy's chest, and Murphy took another staggering step backward, looking down. A small amount of blood was blossoming across his front. He reached a hand up to his chest, covering the wound, and turned to look at 10K with what seemed to be impossible slowness.

Then Murphy fell, landing on his back on the floor with a guttural grunt.

"NO!" Yelled 10K, lunging forward toward Murphy. He threw himself to his knees beside the fallen man. Suddenly, everything seemed to speed back up. Things were happening at high speed now as 10K covered Murphy's chest with both his hands, pressing down. "No! Murphy, don't die!"

He didn't even realize the stranger had come further into the room. He didn't see or hear anything except Murphy, whose eyelids were flickering as his eyes starting rolling back in his head.

"Hey…hey," said 10K desperately, trying to push down harder on the wound. He straightened up briefly and ripped off his vest, then pushed Murphy's hands out of the way, covering the wound with the fabric and resuming the pressure. "Come on, Murphy, you can't die!" He begged, leaning over Murphy with both hands, pressing down with all his weight.

"I bet he can," said the stranger's voice from behind him. "I bet he can die just like anyone else. Good thing I have his blood on ice, right?"

10K looked over his shoulder at the sneering man, and an uncontrollable rage started to fill his chest. All sense of logic dropped out of his mind, replaced only by one thought—he wanted to kill the man.

With an animalistic snarl he jumped to his feet. Suddenly, the metal pipe was in his hand, but he couldn't remember picking it up. With another yell he crossed the room in a few short strides, bringing the pipe down through the air, not caring for the consequences.

The stranger looked somewhat surprised by the unexpected attack, but he was quick enough to dart to one side. The pipe connected with the door frame with a clang that jarred 10K's arm all the way up to his shoulder, and he didn't wait. Still snarling, he swung the pipe back around, leaping toward the man again.

A sharp electrocution stopped his attack like a brick wall. He would have collapsed to the floor, but suddenly the man was holding him up, spinning him around to hold him from behind. He felt the pipe being torn from his hand, and then it was being held to his throat, pulling him backward and cutting off his air. He struggled harder than ever before, tugging on the pipe with both his hands, kicking backward with his heels, but the stranger had the pipe by both ends and doubled the pressure, forcing 10K's head back against the man's shoulder.

10K heaved for breath. He could feel the stranger's chest against his back, just as out of breath as he was himself.

"Whoa, kid. You almost had me!" The man panted from beside 10K's cheek, and 10K twisted his face away from the hot, putrid breath. "Another second faster and you would've clocked me! Glad you still have that collar on."

10K didn't speak; he couldn't have if he'd wanted to, with the pipe pushing against his throat so hard. He tried to see Murphy, to see if he was still alive, but the stranger pulled harder on the pipe, forcing the boy to fight even harder for air.

"Here's a suggestion," the man hissed into 10K's ear. "Stop fighting me, and your friend wouldn't have had to die."

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