Jaywalking

by Vexel

Jaywalking: (intransitive) to cross a street at a place other than a regulated crossing or in a heedless and reckless manner. "The creature fell on top of him and latched onto Danny's clavicle, its rotten teeth forcing their way through his flesh like a blunt, rusted knife. He screamed."

1. Walk

Chapter 1: Walk

Jaywalking: (intransitive) to cross a street at a place other than a regulated crossing or in a heedless and reckless manner.

…

The Humvee hit another pot-hole.

"Ouch!" Danny hissed, raising his hands to rub the back of his head.

The handcuffs bound to his wrists rattled and the soldier opposite shifted the grip on his gun with a wary glance. Danny huffed and slumped back against the wall of the truck, grouchily staring out the window at the highway. Abando ned cars and bikes littered the road, causing the Humvee to take another sharp turn to avoid a broken-down semi and nearly sending him tumbling from his seat.

He didn't know how long he'd been travelling, but he knew he wasn't anywhere near Arkansas anymore. The tinted bullet-proof windows made it difficult to see the sun – not that he ever learned to tell the time by it anyway. The few occasions he had gone camping with his friends they had been the ones to keep track of the hour; Tucker with his ever-ready GPS and Sam somehow just knew how to build a sundial out of sticks and rocks.

He missed them.

…

Danny and his family had been visiting Maddie's estranged sister when the outbreak first hit; Aunt Alicia lived in a small, isolated province up in the mountains of Arkansas with a population total of eight. It only took one maltreated case of gangrene for the community to be overrun. At first his parents had been excited at the prospect of the flesh-feasters – they thought that they had finally discovered ghosts with their bloodshot eyes and lacking pain receptors. That was until one of them bit Aunt Alicia.

Jack, Maddie, Jazz and Danny had fled when their Aunt had turned on them, but as the shortest in his family Danny was quick to lose them in the woods. He searched for them for hours, trundling through the sharp brambles and thistles that tried to slow him down, screaming their names until he was hoarse. He was desperate to find the narrow dirt trail that lead to the four-hour drive back to Little Rock.

But there was nothing.

By the time he had made it off the mountain range it was long past nightfall. Sleep was impossible that night; every time the bush rustled or a bow creaked Danny would snap awake; desperately searching the blackness with blind eyes. The winds had been cold and harsh and Danny had never felt more terrified.

It felt like years before the sun breached the horizon and daylight finally banished the darkness away. Exhausted, Danny dragged himself to his feet from his bed of leaves and twigs; the green of the trees enveloped him like a boa constrictor threatening to squeeze. He was confused, frustrated, tired, thirsty and hungry — he hadn't seen the sun for hours with the canopy so thick. Branches and thorns grappled at his clothes and rocks threatened to slip out from underneath if he didn't watch his every step. The hunger and thirst had begun to set in — the constant ache at the back of his throat was torn anew each time he took a breath of the dry, hot Arkansas air and his stomach had begun to mimic the war-cry of a mountain lion.

He guessed nearly half a day had passed before he reached the fringe of the forest, sunlight pierced through the treetops like angel beckons and Danny couldn't help but smile. Fortified, he leapt and bound his way to the forest's edge and was greeted with a cheerful sign, proudly stating that he had reached the small town of Marianna, population 3,468.

But that was the only thing cheerful about the town.

It was deserted. Mini-vans still fitted with booster seats were scattered along the main street, windows of whimsical boutiques were smashed in, graffiti soaked the walls with messages to loved one with warnings, cautions and apologies and the traffic lights looked like they hadn't been in operation for weeks.

The local grocery's doors were unlocked and, in Danny's desperate craving for food, he ignored the terse voice in the back of his mind and hurried inside. There was nobody at the cashier station and the lights were switched off, washing the store in a stormy Sunday grey. Most of the shelves were barren, displays knocked over by what looked like a frenzy, but he was able to scrounge up a crushed box of granola bars forgotten beneath a promotional booth; Danny happily shoved a whole bar into his mouth and stuffed another two into the back pockets of his jeans, swiping a quarter-filled bottle of water from the aisle over and draining it in seconds.

Scarfing down a whole family-sized block of chocolate he found by the fruits section, Danny meandered his way toward the frozen desserts aisle. The refrigerators were broken and the ice cream had turned to lukewarm sludge, but Danny had happily eaten a whole tub of strawberry sorbet before investigating the rest of the store. With his stomach free of aches and pains and his sore throat soothed, he couldn't help but feel invigorated.

There was a phone in the middle of the bread aisle, abandoned. He quickly swiped it up off the floor only to be thoroughly disappointed to find it on only six percent battery with no signal. Guiltily, he pocketed the pink cell and went in search of whatever remained on the shelves.

He was walking past the stock rooms when he heard the groan.

Gnawing his lip, he nervously called out, "H–hello?"

Another soft moan answered him. Worried that somebody was hurt, Danny placed his shopping basket filled with cans on the ground next to him and shoved heavily past the industrial swinging doors, his muscles straining with the effort to move the awkward plastic fitting.

The room was dark and musty, tall scaffolding contained hundreds of boxes of unopened produce almost completely untouched by the rest of the store-goers. He slowly stepped his way into the room, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up on end.

There was a squeaking sound and Danny whirled on the spot, heart in his throat, only to discover a rat. It gave a tremulous hiss before diving out of sight behind one of the cartons. he heaved a sigh, only to jump at the sound of another pained groan.

'Right, Fenton,' Danny told himself, trying to ignore his jittering nerves, 'You've got this.'

Skulking further in, Danny crept past a pyramid of paper towels. It was dark – too dark. The cell he had been saving for an emergency call was instead being used as a replacement flashlight. Opening the screensaver, Danny was presented with a picture of a pretty teenager a little older than him with her boyfriend, judging by the arm wrapped around the girl's waist.

Another moan echoed through the room, followed shortly by the sound of something being dragged across the floor. Danny felt his breath hitch and squinted into the dark. His own heartbeat filled his ears, making it difficult to tell which direction the groaning was coming from.

"Is somebody there? Are you okay?"

And then she was there, the same girl from the picture, dressed in a checkout uniform with a nametag labelled 'Savannah'. Her eyes were dull and glazed in their stretched sockets and mottled, scabbed skin formed from a gaping wound in her cheek; the blackened flesh was hanging from her face by only a few fibres of sinew. He could see bone.

Danny yelled, stumbling back with fright, the phone shaking violently in his hand. The girl limped unflinchingly toward him, her right foot dragging behind her from where it had dislocated at the ankle with arms outstretched.

"S–stay back!" Danny squeaked, the phone flashed in warning at one percent.

'Savannah' didn't seem to hear him. She didn't seem to need to breathe, she only moaned and clicked her blackened teeth at him hungrily. He raced back to the paper towels, hefting a roll and tossing it at the girl's head before he restocked. The rolls bounced off her head, but didn't slow her down as she edged ever closer. Danny stumbled back toward the weighted doors, glancing down at the phone as it gave out a happy jingle, the screen displaying a farewell message before falling black, casting him in complete darkness.

He didn't have time to consider the irony of returning stolen property before he flung the dead electronic in Savannah's direction – the dull thud announcing he made contact and he bolted toward the doors.

The force he hit the weighted doors with sent him sprawling to the floor, knocking the air out of him. The panels swung softly on their axis before falling shut. Danny, panting, slowly sat up, chuckling weakly as the growls from the stockroom grew more and more angry, but nothing ventured through.

Standing on shaking legs, he gave a final huff in satisfaction and turned to collect his basket, only to be met with the corpse-like face of Savannah's boyfriend. Danny shrieked as the boy lunged at him, sending him tumbling back onto the floor, phalanges grappling to tear through his clothes and teeth snapping just millimetres away from his nose. The stench of rotting meat filled Danny's olfactory senses, making him gag as he shoved an elbow under the boyfriend's chin, taking the full weight of the struggling body above him. The sugar that had fuelled his body was quickly wearing off, the adrenaline running out to make way for exhaustion – everything seemed to be moving too quickly for his sluggish body to keep up. The creature was relentless; Danny's shirt tore like wet paper as fingers worn down to the sharpened bone tried desperately to latch onto his skin.

But then the boyfriend shifted and clipped Danny's elbow, sending him off kilter and making his elbow smack painfully against the vinyl flooring. The creature fell on top of him and latched onto Danny's clavicle, his rotten teeth forcing their way through Danny's flesh like a blunt rusty knife and Danny shrieked in agony. It was the worst feeling he had ever felt – worse even than being electrocuted just those few weeks ago by his parent's makeshift ghost portal.

The blood spurted from the bite as the boyfriend dug his teeth in further, mouth latching over bone. Danny weakly tried to beat at the thing's head with a closed fist, but the lack of blood mixed with his exhaustion was making him too weak to do anything but lie there as this… monster ate him alive.

Green flickered past his pain-filled eyelids and, like a strike of lightning, a bolt of energy suddenly rushed through him. Danny gasped for air like he had been shot full of Epinephrine and the world seemed to explode around him.

A hollow, unearthly shriek met his ears then and the shutters lifted from over his eyes. Green coated the rotting boyfriend's mouth and bouts of hissing steam rose from his non-existent lips. He scuttled away from Danny writhing across the floor as his body seemed to erode at an accelerated pace. The soulless eyes gave away no feelings as his body began to melt away, the green spreading like a flesh-eating disease until it absorbed Savannah's boyfriend entirely, quickly reducing him to nothing but a muddy black-brown puddle.

Danny heaved himself to his feet, gripping his wound tightly as he shuffled his way around the vapour-coated bog of mush. Snatching his basket off the floor, Danny fumbled out of the store without looking back. The basket was difficult to carry, but he ignored the ache of his shoulder and scrambled outside.

The streets which were once empty were now littered with the soulless creatures, at least twenty milled around the main street, snarling mournfully to one another, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Danny winced and ducked behind an old sedan, carefully peeking out through the filthy window as one of the creatures groaned from nearby. There was a public post box a few metres away that he could reach if he timed it right, and an old-fashioned ambulance right after that.

The ambulance would have bandages, right? It would have at least some sort of first aid kit, but he wouldn't be able to bring his basket along with him. It was too heavy for him to move fast. Danny licked his lips, trying desperately to ignore the slipperiness of his shoulder as the blood seeped through his fingers.

Sending another quick glance to where the creatures were, he gently placed the basket next to him, and counted under his breath, 'Three… two… one… Go!'

Danny pushed himself forward, sprinting for the post box and diving behind it, slamming his back against the metal with a soft thud. His chest heaved in fright and exertion as he snatched at his shoulder again with a pained groan. Shaking his head to clear his steadily dizzying mind he glanced around the corner; the creatures hadn't seen him. Good.

Crouching low, Danny prepared himself for his next target, the ambulance. Seated over twenty metres away in all of its red and white glory, Danny nearly let out a relieved cry.

Nodding to himself, he counted down again, 'Okay… Go!'

His legs struggled to lift him this time, and Danny hobbled more than ran to the ambulance. His breath came out in sharp loud pants and he could see the creatures turn toward him in interest before following him. Danny prayed for his plan to work. He didn't have the energy to run any further and he doubted that even if he did that he would be able to match them in speed.

The ambulance was only a few metres away. Danny shuffled faster. Red coated his right side, gluing his shirt to his small form. He was nearly there, he could reach out a hand now and touch the driver's door.

Danny grasped the handle triumphantly and pulled. It didn't open.

He tugged at it, over and over again, willing it to open. The groans were getting closer now as the hoard of bodies moved in. Danny cursed loudly, kicking the side of the white and red vehicle angrily.

"No! No, no, no! NO!" he screamed. He could see them now in the window's reflection, hands eagerly groping at the air. Danny caught sight of the car keys in the ignition and angrily beat his fists against the door.

"Let me in!" he shoved at the door again, "Let me—!"

It was as if the door never existed. Danny was catapulted into the driver's seat in a sudden rush of air, nearly smacking his head against the gearbox as he tumbled inside. Dizzily he sat up; the creatures slamming into the thick windows, scraping with their fingernails, baring their square teeth as they tried to break through the locked door. Danny stared amazedly at the tiny latch that held the door in place. It was as if he had flown through the glass.

Glancing behind him, Danny found a medical station with a gurney and walls lined with half-full medical supplies. Ignoring the snarls and moans, Danny hefted himself into the back and snatched up a roll of clean bandages. Peeling his shirt off was a painful and slow process as the cotton refused to budge and more than once he felt the overwhelming sensation of nearly fainting. It wasn't until many minutes later that Danny heaved a sigh of relief, tossing the sodden shirt onto the floor next to the bench, and flopped onto the gurney. It wasn't the most comfortable bedding he had ever had, and his bandages chaffed against the hard-padded mattress, but in his light-headed exhaustion Danny happily fell into a dreamless sleep, ignorant of the hoard of creatures that surrounded him.

…

He woke up in the later morning hours of the following day feeling stiff and sore. The snarling hadn't stopped from outside the steel walls of his self-imposed prison. He could see them peering with unblinking eyes through the square portholes – it felt claustrophobic. And lonely. He missed his family; his dad with his boisterous and uplifting attitude, his mother's ever-loving shoulder and his sister's rationalism and level-headedness. He hoped that they were all right.

The ambulance was too old a model to feature any of the usual components modern versions were fitted with. There was no Mobile Data Terminal or video cameras. There had once been a two-way radio installed, but it looked like it had been out of commission for years.

A helpless feeling welled up inside of him. He wished he was home, playing video games with Tucker or arguing over which horror movie sequel was the best with Sam. He wished his parents would show him another one of their crazy inventions while Jazz complained about their lack of cohesive parenting skills. He wished he could go to school and learn about Shakespeare in Mr Lancer's class, he even wished he could be called names by Dash, the quarterback bully, and shoved inside his locker for a whole class period.

He wished everything was the way it was before.

The sun was close to setting when the tears finally began to drip down Danny's face as the sadness consumed him. Stuck in the middle of nowhere filled with reanimated corpses trying to eat him, with no food, water, friends or family, everything felt hopeless. This wasn't his world any more. Those… things had taken it from him.

Then the anger built; riling up inside of him like a tempest in a teacup. The banging on the outer walls hadn't stopped. They had surrounded him. Their grotesque hands sliding across the glass in a feeble attempt to get in as their milky eyes followed his every move, obsessed.

A growl ripped from his throat and he slammed his fists against the doors, "I hate you! Youruined everything!" he cried, punctuating each syllable with an angry slam of his fist, ignoring the way the hard metal stung his hand, "This is all your fault! I hate you! I hate you!"

The feeling was welling up again, like he had grabbed the defibrillators in the corner with his bare hands, spreading through his chest and head. A piercing pain stabbed him right behind his eyes as everything turned a soft shade of green, like night-vision during the day.

The door was beginning to dip under the force of his hits, but he didn't notice, "Just leave me alone! Nobody wants you here! Get lost! I HATE YOU!"

Danny reared back his fist a final time, curling the knuckles, and flung his hand at the door lock. In an extraordinary show of strength, the doors flew right off their hinges, colliding with the closest monsters and sending them careening to the ground. A wave of green encircled his fist, before lashing out in a halo, consuming the creatures just like it had the one in the supermarket, sending them tumbling to the earth, writhing in deadpanned agony as their faces and bodies quickly melted away.

Danny gasped for air, flinging himself back onto the gurney in fright. He stared at his hand – it didn't look any different, it wasn't glowing or green...

Had he imagined it?

He shook his head, he couldn't have. The evidence was right outside the ambulance doors in a graveyard of melting bones.

Shakily lifting himself off the bed, he dragged himself outside, swinging off the gurney lift's supportive arms to avoid the steaming gunk surrounding his feet – it looked toxic, like it would burn him to the touch. He carefully crept around the congealed remains of what must have once been a police officer, counting his steps under his breath as he walked toward his shopping basket.

"A-ha!"

The feeling of fear was slowly creeping out of him as he triumphantly hefted his basket up, his shoulder giving only the slightest twinge at the movement. He turned and headed back toward the ambulance, tip-toeing around the gooey mess and climbing back into the van. He cracked open a family-sized bottle of soda and took a deep swig, draining the bottle in minutes and released a loud burp. Giggling, Danny gave the empty town a mocking salute and tossed the plastic bottle into the acrid mess outside.

The monsters' remains seemed to have cooled like tar; they now resembled three-day-old pudding – a thin skin coated the outer layers and the underneath looked like it would eventually harden. It stunk. Danny gagged, pinching his nose. With the ambulance's doors blown off (of which Danny was keenly avoiding thinking about), the smell was wafting throughout the vehicle.

He tried to escape the smell by clambering to the front. The stick-shift sat innocently to his right set in neutral. Danny didn't know much about cars. His dad had promised to teach him how to drive when he turned fifteen, "to get some practise in!" he had said. Danny, after just that morning witnessed his dad nearly run over two old ladies and the neighbour's cat, had swiftly turned to his mum and asked her to teach him instead.

The keys were still sitting innocently in the ignition where he had spotted them earlier. Curious, Danny reached out, snagging the key and giving it a twist.

The ambulance sputtered to life, before giving a wheezing cough and stalled.

Danny frowned, staring down at the pedals curiously. He vaguely remembered his mother describing how to drive a manual vehicle – he had to press in one of the pedals and release it. Whispering 'Eeny-meenie" under his breath, he chose the farthest pedal, carefully compressing his foot against it and twisted the key again.

The alarms went off in a flurry of sound. Red and white lights shone in the midday sun like beacons, the coursing whoop of the siren bouncing through the street lanes. Danny covered his ears as the sound echoed through his skull as he mashed the dashboard, flicking switches and pressing buttons desperately to shut the noise off – his elbow caught on the horn more than once before he gave up and yanked the keys out of the ignition, killing the sound.

Panting heavily, Danny let his head fall onto the steering wheel. The alarm's dying calls echoed through the empty street, bouncing off the vacated townhouses. His shoulder ached in a reminder to his bite and Danny let out a hollow chuckle of disbelief.

Falling back into the leather seat, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister had in the past tried to suggest to him breathing exercises whenever he felt too stressed or freaked out, so Danny took a deep, slow breath through his nose before exhaling through his mouth and distracted himself by reaching for the glove compartment.

Inside he discovered a map. Dog-eared and worn, the black text had long since faded to a pale grey, but it was still a map all the same. A way to find his family. Little Rock was only a two-hour drive away, there was an airport there. He could get access to a phone and call his family and they could all head straight back home to Illinois where it was safe.

It seemed rather simple on the map. Danny traced the trail with his finger: follow Route 79 all the way to the intersection between Clarendon and Monroe, travel up Route 49 to end up on the interstate – a clear shot to the city.

The grin Danny was sporting slid off his face as tell-tale groans filled the air. Danny squinted out of the windscreen, trying to ignore the sun which burned at his eyes. There, in the distance were hundreds of flesh-feasters, all crying out, arms raised as they dragged their decrepit bodies right toward the ambulance.

Danny swore under his breath. He had to move – stat.

Flicking the keys in the ignition Danny cringed as the siren burst to life again, trilling like a cannibalistic dinner bell. The monsters seemed to be even more riled up at the sound, loping across the tarmac frantically to reach him.

Danny's hand hovered over the gearbox – the little voice in his head was telling him to get away quickly, he wouldn't be able to outrun them in his state, there were too many of them. The only choice he had was to learn how to drive and fast.

Danny shoved his foot back down on the clutch and yanked the handbrake loose. The ambulance crooned at him as he gripped the wheel and he shoved his foot on the accelerator, his foot releasing the clutch. The car lurched forward before jolting to a stop, sending Danny's forehead colliding with the wheel.

Rubbing his aching head, Danny stared at the mirrors. The creatures were nearly beside him. He could see their soulless eyes focused entirely on him and a shiver ran its way down his spine. Licking his lips, he turned on the car and tried again, releasing the clutch slower this time. The ambulance began to roll across the ground toward the hoard, and Danny carefully turned the wheel. The street was wide, but so was the ambulance's turning circle. Danny grimaced as he mounted the curb and one of the creatures reached out, a grimy hand swiping his side mirror as he drove past, sending it tumbling to the ground in a heap of bones.

Danny pressed harder on the gas, wary of the way the ambulance creaked in warning but was too afraid to attempt to go up to second gear in fear of stalling it.

He drove out of Marianna without looking back.

…

It was twenty miles out that Danny tried to go up a gear, and it nearly sent him careening through the windshield. Clicking on the seatbelt, Danny started up the ambulance again, ignoring the blaring lights and sounds and slowly released the clutch, moving into second gear with only the slightest jolt.

'Do I still need to learn how to parallel park if it's the end of the world?' Danny mused to himself as he eased into third, the ambulance cheerily calling warning to anyone and anything in a half-mile radius. He tried to turn on the radio to drown out the noise but only got static for his efforts. Danny sighed, relenting to put up with the irritating sound as he turned onto 79.

The road was straight like a bullet's line of fire, encompassed by never-ending fields of green. Farmhouses spattered the scenery in a blur as he sped past; there wasn't a flesh-feaster in sight. The tightness in his chest loosened as he stared out at the monotonous paddocks, the siren's whooping phased into a dull symphony in the back of his mind. He was approaching Marvell now; it looked even smaller than Marianna.

Danny didn't stop as he flew down the main street. He could see the creatures lift their heads in his direction as they meandered around the shop fronts – he didn't see a single living being as he drove through and he didn't stop to check; he couldn't bring himself to. It took only four minutes to make it across town before he had breached the edge, speeding off toward the Route 49 turn-off. He drove for over an hour, passing town after town, never stopping, never looking back.

Danny swooped onto the interstate with little thought, carefully meandering his way around vacated cars, which only seemed more and more common the closer he got to Little Rock, only to slam on the brakes less than ten miles from the city; the road was blocked.

A steel wall encircled the road, reaching over twelve feet tall. Cars were piled up on top of one another in a scrapheap graveyard before the roller gate. Danny could see cars bogged in the mud surrounding the crash where they had attempted to go around the barricade and more than one truck was smoking furiously in the distance. There was no way around it. Graffiti smattered the iron panels, crying out warnings and death threats in fluoro pink and green.

Danny jumped as the radio flickered to life from its ever-constant state of static. It was choppy, but there. Danny turned it up in hopes he could hear it over the blare of the sirens.

"—The attorney general has called for a city-wide lock-down only six days ago— Refugee camps have been opened across town—" static rang through the radio momentarily, "—are required to register themselves immediately and be reviewed for infection. Those unable to identify themselves as a citizen of Little Rock will be escorted to—" the announcer's voice crackled and died in a flurry of white noise.

Danny switched the ambulance off, revelling in the silence for only a few seconds before he began to think: if his parents and his sister had made their way toward Little Rock they would have had to have reached the same pile-up, and with his dad's obsession with bad pop music he would have made certain to keep the radio on in hopes of hearing the latest top 40, even during the end of the world. It would have been impossible for his family to have reached the city through the interstate, especially with it in lockdown.

Danny and his family had planned on visiting their great uncle in Knoxville, Tennessee after seeing Aunt Alicia. It would be a long drive, but it was all he had. His parents would head there hopefully, or he would at least be able to find a phone to call home. It had always driven Danny crazy that his mother refused to buy a cell phone.

Danny looked at the fuel gauge of the ambulance. It was hovering dangerously on near empty. With a sigh, he glanced around, spotting a rather nice sports car sitting in a ditch with its wheels' half-submerged in mud.

Snatching up his map and shopping basket, he hopped out of the old ambulance, giving the hood a soft pat before making his way over to the orange beast. It was bogged deep in the mud, but the door was slightly ajar; Danny snorted at the fuzzy dice hanging from the rear-view mirror and placed his supplies on the passenger seat floor. Stealing the keys from where they were wedged in the seat, Danny headed toward the back of the flashy car and bent down to stare at the tires. The mud had started to dry and crack around the rims, making him frown; the car had to weigh at least half a ton – quite a difference to his hundred and ten pounds.

Placing his hands on the trunk, Danny squared his shoulders and pushed.

And pushed.

And pushed.

And pushed some more.

His legs slipped from the loosening earth and his shoulder ached furiously, yet he couldn't stop. The car gargled curiously but refusing to budge.

Collapsing heavily across the slick orange paint job Danny grumbled to himself, panting; he had to get to Tennessee. He had to find his family.

Determination surged through him, travelling from his tight chest through to his aching limbs, washing away the strain and pain like an ocean of unknown strength – Danny had never felt this sort of feeling before the accident with the portal, but now he embraced it – revelled in it. Devoured it.

He rested his hands back on the trunk of the car, digging his feet into the ground and pushed. Dried mud flaked over his jeans and bandaging as the wheels creaked forward, each shove loosening the car from its early grave. Danny grinned, the momentum pressing it forward, the car was nearly free. Just a little more…

"Grrawr!"

"Aaah!"

A hand burst out from under the car, the rotten fist reaching out to clasp onto his calf. Danny jerked back so suddenly that the decomposing body followed with him, dragging itself out of the dried mud and deadened grass. The flesh-feaster was nothing but a torso now, dressed in wrap-around sunglasses so he couldn't see its pale milky eyes. It snarled at him with mud-caked skin threatening to fall off its cheekbones. Danny furiously kicked at the arm with his free leg, grimacing when it fell completely from its socket to hang loosely in what once may have been an expensive button-down. The creature didn't flinch, simply raised its other arm in hope of grabbing him.

Danny shot to his feet, giving the monster a wide berth as he yanked open the driver's side and sat in the seat, jerking the door shut. He glared at it through the rear-view mirror with the fuzzy dice as it crawled pitifully, mouth gnawing on air. Looking away, he threw the (thankfully automatic) car into drive, easing his way back onto the deserted interstate and pressing his foot to the floor.

He disappeared in a cloud of dust and asphalt.

…

It took more than five hours to make it to the outskirts of Knoxville. The sun had long since set and Danny had been forced to turn on the lights as he sped through the backroads to avoid the hoards. He had barely made it into Memphis to discover that the city had been overrun. Danny had been thankful that he no longer was driving the out-of-date ambulance as the flesh-feasters had charged at him – he was trying desperately to ignore the possibility that Knoxville may be overrun as well.

A sign seated above a pile of burnt bodies welcomed him to Knoxville and Danny forced himself to swallow the bile that built in the back of his throat. The roads were empty, the rev of the engine bouncing off the walls of deserted buildings as he drove further into the city.

Lower level office buildings were barricaded in, metal security shutters were drawn, and rubbish filled the streets like the Great Pacific garbage patch had been overturned on top of the city. Danny grimaced at the smell, rolling up his windows and turning the air conditioning on low.

Turning onto North Parkway, Danny stared in what he could only claim as an odd sort of remorse as he drove past a defunct fast food restaurant – the cheerful glowing sign that he recognised from the hundreds of television commercials had long since dimmed and cracked, the windows shattered in and the car park empty.

His stomach churned in urgency. He had kept his rations of food and water, but he had yet to stop for a bathroom break for almost two days except for a few quick pit-stops in some bushes on the side of an abandoned road. Danny swooped into the free lot, parking in a disabled spot and hopped out of the car, snatching the keys from the ignition and locking his groceries inside.

He crept up to the door and peered inside. It was dark without the lights – he could barely make out the restaurant's clown mascot as it grinned sadistically down at him, daring him to enter at his own risk. Danny pushed the door open, ignoring the broken windows and treading carefully around the glass shards. A stanchion pole was seated neatly by the entrance for customers to queue up and order. Danny snatched the metal post, unhooking the rich red rope attached, and held it in two hands like a baseball bat. It was heavy and it hurt to lift it above his elbow with his shoulder, but it was the best he had.

Holding it out in front of him, Danny crept through the fast food joint, sneaking behind the counter to peer into the kitchen to see whether any of the flesh-feasters were hanging by the deep fryers and cockroaches. He was happy to find they weren't. His stomach gave another squeamish turn and so, satisfied with the eatery, snuck his way toward the bathrooms. He had three choices; the men's, the women's or the unisex disabled. Licking his lips, Danny carefully knocked on the men's bathroom door and placed his ear against the panel.

He didn't have to wait long; twin feral snarls called out and a heavy body hit the other side, fingernails scraping against the sealed wood, another following shortly after. Danny waited, tense, for the door to give way, but it didn't budge.

He moved on to the disabled toilets, tapping on the door softly. He thought he heard a growl, but nothing made its way to the sliding door. Grasping the handle Danny rolled it open and stepped inside. The automatic light flickered on and he halted in his steps. Trapped beside the narrow sink sat a flesh-feaster – her cheeks were gaunt and hollow like she hadn't eaten in months. Her teeth snapped but she didn't move, bound by the strap of the wheelchair which had fallen to the side, pinning her arms. Danny stared at the creature, pity rising in his chest – she must have been trapped in here for days on end, unable to move, calling for help all alone before...

Danny wrenched his eyes away from the scene, stepping back out into the narrow alcove and quietly closing the door behind him, watching the light dim once again from the crack underneath the door.

He didn't hesitate heading into the women's, a quick tap on the door and its long, deep creak brought him the comfort that the bathroom was truly empty. It was after when he went to wash his hands that he finally got a look at himself in the mirror. His once black hair with the recent addition of a lightning-bolt patch of white was sweat-ridden and stuck to the base of his scalp like glue. Dirt streaked it an ashen brown and his skin was four shades darker with the grime. His chest was still bare after he had ditched his blood-soaked and ragged shirt, and for the first time Danny could get a proper look at his shoulder - it looked irritated and had a green tinge to it under the harsh fluorescents, but it had long since started to scab over from where it sat under the bandages. Blood still covered his side in a splatter of black-browns and vibrant reds.

He turned the faucet on full-blast, shoving his hands under the icy cold water and splashing it on his face, rubbing at his skin until it felt raw. He was careful around his shoulder, snatching paper towels and dabbing around the bite-mark before scrubbing the rest of his body. It was the closest he was going to get to a shower, at least until he found his family and was on his way home.

Turning off the tap, Danny ran a hand through his wet hair before dragging it over his face. He was exhausted. He leaned against the sink, thinking to himself how easy it would be to just crawl onto the bathroom tiles and go to sleep. Or in one of the booths with the vinyl cushioning. Yeah, that didn't sound too bad.

He had just stepped outside when he heard the entrance bell chime followed by soft whispers. There were people here. Living, breathing people. Danny felt a grin tattoo itself across his face – maybe it was his mum and dad? Maybe they'd found him somehow through all of this mess?

There was a crackle before a tinny voice met his ears, "Jameson, Rodriguez, don't leave any spot unturned, make sure they're clear. See any of those bastards, you shoot 'em, got it? Call in when the location is secure."

"Roger that," came the twin replies.

Heavy footsteps padded across the ground and he swore he heard the tell-tale sound of a gun being cocked. Danny considered heading back into the women's, but the soldiers were too close. There was only one option – the disabled bathroom.

Carefully, Danny dragged the door along its roller, squeezing through the narrow gap as the automatic light came on. He stopped short at the sight of the flesh-feaster pinned under the wheelchair before tucking himself away in the farthest corner, nudging the door shut with his foot. The creature hissed and growled at him, sightless eyes staring longingly and Danny barely breathed.

The footsteps were following the same pattern as he did, circling the kitchen and the dining area – any second now they would make their way to the bathrooms. The flesh-feaster was becoming irritated now, fervidly calling for him across the room. Danny listened as the others in the men's room began to growl and thump against the door.

He couldn't hear the soldiers' footsteps over the growls, but he heard the gunfire.

Danny tried not to flinch. The sound echoing through his brain like his own personal alarm; tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, BANG! BANG! BANG!

The soldiers were talking to each other now, but the sound of gunfire kept playing through Danny's mind, making it hard to concentrate. He prayed that the automatic light would dim, and Danny forced himself still, ignoring the way his shoulder ached and his foot began to cramp.

But with no luck. The girl in the wheelchair let out an angry bark and the talking stopped. Danny held his breath, shoving himself into the corner as far as possible when a thought ran through his mind – play dead.

It took an exponential amount of effort to loosen his muscles; his nerves were so tightly strung that he struggled to open his balled fists. He lolled his head onto his sore shoulder and turned to face the wall, hiding his features from sight, his legs splayed out in front of his half-slumped form in what he could only hope was a half-decent acting job.

The door slid open with no notice. He refused to look in the direction of the soldiers, keeping his eyes tightly shut as they stepped into the room. The growling heightened in sound and he heard one of the soldiers sigh.

"Poor sucker," he said.

"Stop feeling bad for it, Jameson, and shoot it. We're on a schedule here!"

There was a moment of silence before the gunshot went off; it bounced across the walls and Danny could feel something wet trickle across the heel of his foot, soaking the hem of his jeans.

"What about that one?" he heard.

Danny bit his lip, sweat pouring down his face as one of the soldiers stepped closer. A steel-capped boot nudged him in the thigh, but he didn't move. The boot hit him sharper this time (Danny was sure he was going to get a bruise from it) before the soldier moved away.

"Dead. No point wasting the bullets," was all Jameson said.

"Let's go then. We've got another two blocks to check before we can call it a day."

The door slid shut behind them and Danny was cast into darkness. He counted to a hundred seven times before he considered it safe. The liquid that was soaking the leg of his pants had long since made its way up to his thigh. But it was silent. Dead silent.

Danny hiccupped a breath, gulping down any air that he could. The room held an acrid copper smell, along with the scent of fireworks on the Fourth of July – he ignored it, slowly getting to his feet and treading carefully toward the door. The light flickered back on, as helpful as ever, but Danny made a point to avoid looking at the farthest wall as he stepped outside, turning quickly on his heel for the restaurant's exit.

He half-jogged toward the conspicuous car. Fishing the keys from his back pocket he thrust them into the lock, turning them and hearing the satisfying click of the doors opening.

A cheerful tapping against the car roof made him look up. Opposite him on the passenger's side was a rather large man dressed in camouflage grey with a broad nose and skin the colour of undiluted coffee.

"Playing possum, were you?"

Danny licked his chapped lips, tasting the blood where his anxious nibbling had split it, "Maybe," was all he said.

The man, who he recognised to be the voice of Jameson, gave an inviting grin, "The engine was still warm."

Danny looked at Jameson warily, "What do you want?"

"We're patrolling. It's our job to look for survivors and to get rid of the biters."

"Biters?"

Jameson nodded at the fast food restaurant, "You know, the thing you were playing happy housemates with? Biters."

"Oh," Danny frowned. Biters were an apt name for them, and much less of a mouthful than flesh-feasters.

"What's the holdup here?" called out a voice. A man came from around the corner, his short-cropped hair hidden beneath his army cap. He was short, standing at eye-level to Danny, but the way he held himself screamed danger.

"Rodriguez, this is… er, what's your name, kid?"

"Danny."

Rodriguez took a few steps closer, "How long have you been in the city? Not many survivors out here; could count how many we've picked up in the last week on one hand."

"Survivors?" he asked nervously.

Jameson shrugged, "We had transport crews running in and out of the city constantly heading for Fort Benning in the state over for the first two weeks of the outbreak, but we don't do that anymore since people stopped showing up at the evacuation points. Mostly it's just search and destroy now, try and get a hold back on the situation."

Danny hissed through his teeth. Over two weeks. Is that how long the outbreak had been going on for? The time in isolation with Aunt Alicia without even a radio made it hard to keep track. But he knew his parents wouldn't have made it to the Fort – they wouldn't have known about it, just like him. They must still be in the city somewhere...

"Have you seen a big man with black hair and two women with red? The guy is about this tall," Danny stood on his tip-toes and gestured with a hand in the air, "and blathers on about ghosts a lot? He'll be wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, and his wife would be matching – in blue! With short hair! And Jazz, well, her hair is longer, and she likes to talk about—"

Jameson hefted his gun over his shoulder, seemingly at ease with pity in his eyes, "Lost your group, huh?"

Danny blinked, "Group? Group of what? No, they're my family. My mum and dad and sister…"

Now Jameson looked with even more pity and Rodriguez was avoiding his eye, "We're sorry, kid. Haven't caught sight of them, and at this rate… I don't think you're going to have any luck."

He placed a sympathetic hand on Danny's shoulder, placing weight on the bite mark hidden underneath the slightly sodden (but mostly clean) bandages. He let out a yelp of pain, making Jameson retract his hand quickly.

"What happened to your shoulder, kid?" Rodriguez asked.

Danny shook his head, "It's nothing. I just… had a run in with one of those biters a while back. But I'm okay! Just a bit sore."

Jameson narrowed his eyes and lunged forward, snagging the bandages and yanking them off. "Hey, watch it!" Danny groaned as the scab tore and oozing blood dripped down his clavicle.

Twin gasps made his look up, grasping his shoulder.

"He's been bit," Rodriguez stated, "You know protocol."

"Protocol? What's protocol?" Danny muttered nervously.

Jameson looked queasy, giving Danny an uneven stare, "We're sorry, Danny," he said and lifted his gun. Rodriguez did the same, aiming it at his head.

"What? Wait, no!" Danny cried as they pulled the triggers.

A strange sensation fluttered about him – like he was enveloped in a cloak of nothingness. He felt so light he thought that the soft draft of wind could drag him from gravity's boundaries into the stratosphere if he didn't keep a hold of it. He could see the bullets rushing at him, the guns going off in succession. But as the feeling swept over him, he could no longer feel anything. He couldn't feel the car handle digging into his lower back, he couldn't feel the chill of the evening air peppering his skin with goose-bumps and he couldn't feel the bullets as they rushed right through his skull, leaving his head perfectly intact and unharmed.

He was dragged back to gravity so quickly that Danny wasn't even sure it had happened. Only the gaping faces of the two soldiers told him it had.

"Wh-what?" Rodriguez gasped, yanking out the magazine of his pistol to check the bullet-count. Jameson was shaking his head astounded, gun hanging limply by his side.

"It went right through," he muttered, "I saw it."

Rodriguez raced forward, shoving Danny against the car, "What was that?"

Danny blinked, terrified as the man stared him in the eyes, gun cocked in hand, "I— I don't know! That's never happened before!"

Rodriguez looked down at the bite, Danny followed his gaze. It was glumly seeping a strange green fluid, the same viscosity of blood. The scabbing was mostly still in place.

"How old is that bite?" Rodriguez asked, raising his gun to Danny's cheek, "And don't even think of lying."

Danny was at his wit's end, "Two days!" he cried, "Nearly three!"

Jameson reached over and dragged Rodriguez off who didn't put up a fight, staring in amazement at Danny.

"Two days?" Jameson whispered, "You've been bitten for two days and haven't turned?"

"Turned?" Danny asked. His heart was in his throat, making him sound congested.

Rodriguez and Jameson looked at one another before turning to Danny, "Nobody's ever gone that long with a biter's mark before. There have been announcements on the intercoms and radios that nobody has lasted more than eight hours before the change took them…"

"Wait, you think I'm going to turn into a biter?" Danny asked, flabbergasted, "I thought you only had to be killed by them!"

Jameson hadn't let go of his gun, but lowered it to his side, "Their bites and scratches are infectious. First, you get the bite, then you get the fever, then you die, then you come back… as one of them. Only way to take them down is a shot to the brain."

The heart in Danny's throat was threatening to choke him now.

"Maybe it was a fluke," Rodriguez said, his gun shaking in his hand, "Maybe we just missed. Maybe we should try again."

Danny was about to let out a squawk of horror when Jameson shushed them, "Do you hear that?"

He listened over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. There was the tell-tale sound of growls, buzzing like an angry hive of bees.

"Get in the car!" Jameson hissed, snatching open the passenger-side door and heaved himself inside. Rodriguez shoved Danny out of the way as he flung himself into the driver's seat forcing Danny to take the back-suicide door. He didn't have a chance to strap himself in when Rodriguez hit the gas, nearly sending him tumbling from his seat as they rounded a corner.

They flew through the streets, swerving left and right to avoid empty traffic. Danny could see the biters emerging from the shadows now; hundreds of them flittered by in a haze of colour that made Danny feel sick.

"We need to get to Fort Benning!" Jameson cried to Rodriguez who nodded, gripping the steering wheel harder.

"What? No! We can't! I have to find my family!" Danny cried from the back.

Rodriguez let out an angry growl, "Kid you gotta face it. If any of your family is still in this city I can promise you that they aren't going to be welcoming you with open arms as much as open mouths."

Danny scowled, "You don't know that! They could still be out there looking for me right now! Let me out!"

Jameson turned to face him, "Danny, if what you said about your bite is true then we need you. You could save the entire world with whatever is in you."

"The world wouldn't be worth saving if my family wasn't part of it," Danny hissed back, angry tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Don't be selfish, kid! We're talking about saving the entire human race from extinction here!" Rodriguez shouted, taking another tight turn.

"I don't care! Let me out! I need to find my family!" Danny leant over to the suicide door, flinging it open with a mighty push. The car wobbled on its axis as seventy miles per hour of wind caught on the door like a broken bird's wing, threatening to snap it right off its hinges and drag the car off the road.

"Whoa!" the soldiers cried, Rodriguez gripping the wheel as he struggled to keep it straight.

Danny snatched at the rim of the roof, half-dragging himself outside. His hair whipped around his face like lashes from a nine-tails and Danny had to pinch his eyes to stop them stinging.

"Danny, get in the car! You'll kill yourself!"

Danny scoffed, "Like you didn't already try that!" he yelled over the wind.

The car door gave an almighty creak before the hinges popped, sending it careening down the road behind them. He watched half-fascinated as it collided with a group of biters, crushing them under the force.

Danny smacked his hands against the roof like a drum, "Let me out! Stop the car!"

"Okay, okay!"

The car slowed to a stop in the middle of the road and Danny felt a little disoriented as he stepped out of the vehicle, his legs wobbling as he wandered across the tarmac.

He heard the sport car doors open and two pairs of pounding feet chase after him. Without hesitation Danny broke out into a sprint – he wasn't going to let these two stop him from reaching his family. They were still alive, he knew it.

"Danny!" Jameson called out.

"Wait up, kid!" Rodriguez cried.

Danny ignored them, ducking into an alleyway toward where he hoped the main street was. He'd be able to find his way from there – get to his great-uncle's house and hopefully find Jack, Maddie and Jazz. But the alley was a dead-end. Literally.

Biters stood idly at the other side, each turning their rotting heads curiously at him and shifting forward, bumping into one another to reach him. Danny spun around on the spot only to crash into Jameson and Rodriguez who were looking worriedly behind.

Danny glanced around them to see another impending wall of biters. They were trapped, Flesh-feasters coming at them from either side, their canines as blunt as any other person's but unfettered hunger evident in each of their faces that promised no human limitations were going to stop them.

Rodriguez snatched his radio, "Pearson, we need immediate backup. We've got at least thirty biters surrounding us between the North Parkway and Old Hickory Boulevard, no exits, no fire escapes!"

The radio crackled, "We're two streets over. We're gonna try and eradicate the herd from this end to reach you guys, so hold tight."

"We don't have that much time!' Jameson cried into his own radio. He didn't get a response.

Danny was hyperventilating now. He couldn't seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs, he couldn't focus. The world swirled around him like he was still travelling seventy miles an hour while stagnant. His shoulder hurt from where Jameson had grabbed it and green blood still leaked from it sluggishly, spreading across his once semi-clean bandages. Rodriguez grabbed Danny, dragging him back to the wall where he and Jameson held themselves, guns cocked.

'Shoot the damn things!" Rodriguez cried.

The bullets hit each of the biters directly in the head, sending them tumbling to the ground unmoving, but more biters simply climbed over their fallen comrades in their place. Rodriguez and Jameson switched out their magazines for fresh, full ones and started shooting again. But there were too many – more than Danny could even see.

Rodriguez and Jameson flung themselves back at the wall next to Danny, "We're out of bullets," they explained, "The only thing we can do now is pray for a miracle."

Danny could hear gunfire in the distance, peppering the streets with the sound of automatic armoury. Some of the biters turned in interest at the sound, but most continued their slow gait toward them. Jameson tossed his gun at one of the nearer ones and Danny watched it bounce off its head to clatter to the ground.

"Can't say we didn't try," Jameson said morosely. Rodriguez looked like he wanted to punch the wall.

But then the biters stopped. Around five feet away they circled them, arms outstretched but unable to take another step as if an invisible barrier had been erected.

"What?" Jameson whispered, shuffling forward. The biters twisted on the spot, snarling wildly at him with fervour as they groped for him. Danny snapped himself out of his haze and reached out to drag him back. The biters nearly fell over themselves to get out of the way, while the ones behind Danny leapt forward to reach Rodriguez who skittered toward Danny and Jameson.

"What's going on?" he barked, "Why aren't they attacking us?"

Rodriguez stared down at Danny with bewilderment, "They are attacking us, Jameson. They just aren't touching the kid."

Danny glanced down at himself, he looked as normal as ever. Short, messy hair, tanned skin… Seeping green bite mark…

He raised a hand to his wound, stripping the sodden material away and allowing the bite mark to breathe in fresh air. The biters let out a hallowed shriek, stumbling back another two feet as they clawed at the air trying to reach the two soldiers.

Jameson grinned, "Come on, we're getting out of here," he said, nudging Danny forward. The biters parted as if he was Moses crossing the Red Sea. The walls were too narrow for a lot of them, and many were crushed by others in their desperation to stay out of Danny's way.

Danny watched in abject curiosity as they reluctantly moved. His mind was becoming straighter as the likelihood of death rescinded. They calmly walked through the alleyway toward the rat-tat-tat of gunfire, Rodriquez and Jameson glued to his side like personal bodyguards. Danny fought back a snort at that thought, considering that he, at five feet four inches, was the one protecting them.

Caught up in his musings, he missed what Jameson said over the radio, but a loud call made him look up. A military Humvee was seated in the middle of the road, a platoon of soldiers stationed on the roof, automatic weapons hitting the biters surrounding them with deadly accuracy. They stopped at the sight of the approaching rag-tag group, as the undead moved out of Danny's way with woeful cries and outstretched fingers. They reached the side of the Humvee.

"Let's rollout, Pearson, before we attract any more nasties."

The soldiers took advantage of Danny's barrier and slipped inside without question. Rodriguez nudged Danny forward to follow before ducking in after him, narrowly missing the biter's hands who grabbed at him.

"Jameson, Rodriguez. Good to see you're safe. And you… Danny, was it?"

Danny nodded, "Er, yeah. Who are you?"

"Sargent Pearson. And these are Officers Daley, Morgan and Andrews," The soldiers at the front of Humvee nodded in succession.

Pearson leaned forward in his seat, staring at Danny, "You're an amazing kid, Danny. What you're capable of doing – what Jameson and Rodriguez have told me about… you're going to bring the world back from the hell-hole it's become."

The Humvee started moving slowly, running straight over any wayward biters. Danny shook his head, "I'm not leaving until I find my family."

Pearson sighed, rolling his eyes before he said more firmly, "Don't be selfish, Danny, it's your duty as a human being to help us – to help the world. You can save millions of lives—"

"I'm not being selfish!" Danny yelled, "Isn't it your duty to help civilians? Well then help me find my family! Help me—! Hey!"

A pair of handcuffs were snapped around his wrists by a surly Rodriguez and he was shoved harshly into the wall, "What are you doing? You can't do this!" Danny watched through the windows as the Humvee broke free of the biters, picking up speed, "My family are looking for me! This is kidnapping!"

"Make way for Fort Benning," Pearson said, ignoring Danny's angry outbursts and clambering into the front. Andrews sped the Humvee up and Danny watched despondently as they quickly made their way down the main roads out of the city.

…

It took many hours for them to reach the state of Georgia. Danny, exhausted, had fallen in and out of sleep multiple times, waking up to different shades of the night and day. The pot-holes and tight corners didn't help with his sleeping patterns. Jolting him into consciousness far too often for his liking, which led him to where he was now, hundreds of miles from Arkansas and hundreds more from Illinois. Officer Andrews eyed him suspiciously from the seat across, playing the active guard on duty as he held his gun tightly in his glove-wrapped wrists.

Jameson was on the seat beside him, head bent down in deep sleep with Rodriguez on the other side, staring into nothingness. Nobody spoke. Nobody ever spoke much at all unless it was over radio transmission. They certainly never tried to speak to Danny. He rubbed his bitten shoulder with a grimace – the bleeding had long stopped but the scabbing had started to itch; and the dirty, dried bandages certainly weren't helping it. The soldiers had been both oddly fascinated and terrified of the bite as if they were expecting Danny to turn at any second.

He'd been dozing when he felt a sharp pinch. Rodriguez had jabbed a large syringe into his arm, extracting a tube of blood.

"What the heck, dude?" Danny rattled his handcuffs as the needle was capped and stuffed into one the officer's pocket.

"Research," he had simply muttered in response before reaching over to grip his jaw tightly.

"Hey!" Danny protested as Rodriguez shoved his head forward. Pearson was holding a Polaroid camera with a stern expression that gave nothing away.

"Smile for the camera, baby!" one of the men upfront jeered. Danny scowled deeply as the flash went off.

They'd passed through Alabama a few hours ago, but the six-hour drive had nearly taken double the time due to the hordes of biters that travelled the main roads. He had been told that they were going to have to breach the outskirts of Atlanta city to avoid the built-up traffic and herds.

Danny stared out the window, bored. He hadn't seen another living soul since he'd been picked up by the army crew. He had never been to Georgia before, and truly never expressed any interest in going either, but now he hated the place. This was the place that was holding him back from finding his family – this was the place that was taking him even further away from his home and friends.

Something caught his eye through the window. Leaning forward in his seat, he peered out as they drove past. A large RV was parked in the opposite lane. An old man seated on the roof as people mingled about.

"There are people out there!' Danny cried, "It looks like they've broken down!"

"So?" Rodriguez asked apathetically.

Danny frowned, "Well, shouldn't we help them?"

"They aren't important," Pearson told Danny from the front seat, "We've got our priorities. Once we get you to Fort Benning then you'll be able to help the real people that need it."

"Like yourself?" Danny asked scathingly.

Pearson acted like he hadn't heard him, "How's our fuel supply, Daley?"

"Not good, sir. Next bus we pass we're going to have to siphon some of its gas."

"Take it from that truck over there. I don't want to risk running out before we find one."

The Humvee slowed to a stop less than a mile down the road. Jameson woke with a start and moved to help the others.

"Stay here," he told Danny.

Danny rolled his eyes. He couldn't exactly go anywhere with his hands cuffed and six trained army-men watching his every move.

The soldiers hustled out, checking nearby cars for supplies and grabbing the canister and hose to help drain fuel. He could see Pearson out of the narrow window glaring out into the horizon, his back straighter than a ruler; there was a vein pulsing near the base of his skull, fast and alert.

Pearson twisted his head suddenly and called out to his men, his voice gruff and tight, "Biter herd, counting a few hundred. How are we going, men?"

Danny heard Andrews call out some whiles away, "The truck is empty, sir. We're trying to steal some fuel from some of the others—"

"Well hurry up then!" Pearson near shouted.

Danny shuffled closer to the door, careful to keep the chain binding his hands from rattling. He stared into the distance where the Biters were coming from; they looked like ever-moving bodies of muddy water, rolling and swaying in a way that would only look natural in the flows of a river and was discombobulating on land. Their choir calls reached out over the half-mile away like banshees and Danny shivered. The soldiers were hustling now, dodging from car to car to siphon any excess they could find, but with no luck. The herd was a few hundred yards away when Pearson called them, ordering them into the Humvee; the soldiers didn't hesitate, clambering into the back – Danny was squished against the far wall as Jameson squeezed over to make room for Daley, shooting him an apologetic grin. Pearson was the last to enter, swinging the door closed, sending the group into lukewarm darkness behind the tinted windows.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours but could easily have been just minutes when Danny burst out, "We have to warn that group!"

Andrews quickly reached over and slammed a dirt-covered palm across his mouth, making him gag, "We won't be doing anything, kid; we are officially in lockdown until the situation is taken care of. It's too late for them – they're on their own. So, shut up before the biters hear us. You might not be susceptible, but I don't fancy myself to be someone's three-course meal."

"But they'll die if we don't tell them!" Danny cried shoved the palm away.

Pearson leaned over, "People die, Danny. That's life. As much as we want to help them, you're the priority. What you can do can save so many more people – you can end this suffering, this… war. Think about that."

Danny saw the disapproving looks the soldiers threw his way and knew he was acting childish, but he'd seen the disjointed group they had left behind; a mix of both young and old – the boy that had been standing next to the man in the sheriff's hat couldn't have been older than twelve and there had been a little girl glued to her mother's side like she was a breathing security blanket. What made them less important?

The moans crept closer and Danny could hear the rubber soles of the biter's shoes and sandals scraping against the boiling tarmac as they slithered by. Danny fought the urge to stuff his hand in his mouth to quieten his breathing as the soldiers sat, not moving a muscle. They stayed in the claustrophobic darkness for an age as the biters slowly meandered past, and Danny was terrified – truly terrified – but he couldn't let go of the image in his head of the boy and girl being faced with the monsters.

The tingling feeling appeared again, thrumming through his body in between heartbeats, but the wind didn't steal him this time, gravity did. Danny gave a terrified yelp as he slipped through the Humvee's seat. The tarmac greeted him like a sledgehammer to the back and Danny struggled to even let out a groan as the wind was knocked out of him. He looked up at the underside of the car confused, too shocked to wonder how he ended up outside of it when he had been seated securely inside.

He heard angry yells from the Humvee and Danny watched the shuffling feet of the Biters turn back to the car, growling curiously.

The back of the Humvee was flung open and Danny heard bullets fly furiously as the soldiers fired. His name was called more than once over the gunshots, snapping him awake. He rolled onto his stomach and began to crawl forward to where he could spot the reinforced boots below the suspension. Biters fell around him like children singing 'ring-around-the-rosie' with bullets lodged into their skulls. Danny heaved himself forward, trying not to breathe as the smell of rotting flesh invaded his senses, making bile rise in the back of his throat. A biter collapsed a few feet beside him, shot in the leg by a wayward bullet. Danny watched, hands still shackled as it pulled itself forward on its stomach. Its teeth clacked and blackish gunk covered the front of its shirt, hands clawing at the gravel as it edged closer to him.

"It's okay," Danny hissed to himself, "It can't touch me."

The biter moaned, dragging itself closer.

"It can't touch me," he muttered, nervous now, "It'll stop. Any second."

It was only a hair's breadth away. Danny gulped.

"It's not stopping! It's not stopping! Somebody, help! Somebody—!"

The barrier Danny had somehow formed must have been a fluke. He gasped as a mottled hand narrowly scraped at the bottom of his sneaker and lurched forward, rolling out from under the car and clambered clumsily to his feet. He found himself between Andrews and Jameson.

"Danny! What did you think you were doing?" Jameson roared, taking down two biters in succession.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Danny gasped, his voice raspy with fright.

Jameson gave him a look before turning back to the herd surrounding them, "We can't get back into the Humvee, Daley stuffed a few in there before we got overrun. We're stuck out here."

Andrews' automatic clicked forebodingly, "And I'm out of ammo," twisting the grip on his gun, he rammed the butt into a nearby biter's skull and roared, "Come on!"

Jameson followed suit shortly after his own gun emptied, furiously swiping at the endless sea of biters.

Danny huddled behind Jameson, nervously dodging a biter that came too close before the man sent the end of his gun straight through its eye socket.

"Come on, kid, we'd really appreciate it if you could work your magic now!" Andrews yelled desperately, swinging wildly as the herd blocked them in. Danny shoved his back into the Humvee's door, jumping as a biter slammed its rotting face against it from inside, leaving mucus and rotten flesh across the glass.

"I can't!" Danny told Andrews.

"What do you mean you can't?" called Pearson. He had shoved his way through the hoard to reach their side. Snatching Danny by his bare shoulder, he snarled, "Wanna repeat what you just said?"

Danny, terrified, stuttered out, "I— I can't seem to make whatever I did work again!"

Pearson leaned down, digging his thumbs into Danny's bite wound, making him shriek in pain, "Well make it work."

"Please, let go! Stop!" Danny sobbed, the bite sending an excruciating jolt running through his spine and up to his temple – the sight in his left eye blurred into a swirl of reds as a blood vessel burst. He couldn't even lift his arms to stop the man. He was in too much agony.

"Sargent! He's just a kid—!"

"A kid who is hiding the answer to saving our hides, Jameson! The others are already gone or dead, and I swear the last thing I'm going to be is a free meal for some low-life— Aaargh!"

Danny tore himself from Pearson's death grip when the army man stumbled back. The biter that had slid under the Humvee after Danny had lunged forward, clamping its jaws onto Pearson's calf through the thick material. Blood burst from the wound and Jameson and Andrews called out to their commander. Danny snatching his newly-bleeding shoulder, watching in horror as Pearson stumbled back, right into Jameson.

The man, not expecting the extra weight, lost his balance, his gun falling out of his grip. Biters crowded around him without hesitation, and Danny watched horrified as the two soldiers were surrounded; teeth digging into flesh, gushing over biters' faces. The sound of their screams was bound to haunt him for weeks. Andrews was short to follow, biters surrounding him like an all-you-can-eat buffet, and Danny fought the urge to cover his ears at the man's begs for mercy.

A biter made a leap for Danny, aiming to tear his nose right off his face, and he squeaked, quickly jumping out of the way. Most of the biters were distracted by their meals, circling around the now-motionless bodies. Danny ducked back under the Humvee, dragging his way across the gravel and slicing his hands open on a few stray rocks.

Some of the biters had followed him. Danny, wrought with terror, forced himself to ignore them, pulling himself to the front of the Humvee, dragging his weakened body up by the grate, his manacled hands clanking against the hot camouflaged metal. Not giving himself any time to catch his breath, Danny pushed forward, bolting for the cover of the forest that enclosed the eastern side of the road.

He stumbled over loose rocks and branches, his breath coming out in heaving pants, threatening to drown out the groans of the approaching biters. There was a river a little ways ahead and Danny rushed toward it. The water was chilly and much deeper than he expected. He struggled to gain his footing, the swirling water pulling only loose silt across the lakebed. Danny thrashed to stay afloat, treading water with tired, untrained legs. He couldn't use his arms, the handcuffs stifling his mobility.

He could see the biters now, stumbling toward the lakeside; he panicked. Heaving a deep breath Danny plunged himself underwater, his eyes pinched tightly shut. Water flooded past his ears, flowing smoothly and dragging his body downstream with the current. It was rather peaceful under the water. He felt like he could stay here forever.

Danny frowned. It really felt like he could stay underwater. He couldn't feel the burning in his chest and throat that signalled the need for air. There was nothing – it was like he didn't need to breathe. He sat at the bottom of the lake for a few more minutes, counting by hundreds in his head, following the swaying of the water as it continued to lull him downstream.

Curious, Danny gulped down a mouthful of water. Then another. It tasted like dirt, but the need for air still didn't reach him. The lake was becoming shallow now, the water levels reaching only inches above his head instead of feet.

Kicking himself off the bottom, he breached the water and oxygen filled his lungs. He heaved a gasp, feeling like he had been punched in the chest as he sucked down as much air as his cold-ridden body could handle. The soft wind bit at his exposed skin, sending a tremor of goose-bumps crawling in their wake.

Danny dragged his waterlogged body to the shore, the silt had hardened to cracked mud and Danny didn't hesitate to flop his body against the earth. His body ached and his mind was frazzled. He stared up at the setting sky in wonderment as pinks and oranges flew by. Had he really been in the water for that long? The sun was slowly drying his cold skin and Danny smiled. For the first time, something was going right.

He didn't know when he fell asleep but when his eyes opened next the sun was already high in the sky. His body ached like he had run a week-long marathon in the span of a day and he couldn't help the deep groan as he pulled himself up. The mud had left a negative of his body and he could only guess how much dirt caked his back.

The stream had swept him into a shallow basin, surrounded by steep walls of overgrowth. The trees growing on the hillside were thin and flimsy, and Danny questioned if they would be able to support even his meagre weight. He hauled himself to his feet slowly, the shackles squelching with brittle mud, scratching uncomfortably at the skin underneath.

Snatching onto the nearest branch, Danny carefully hauled himself up. The tree creaked and Danny reached for the grass clumps, shoving himself higher onto the tree-trunk. The handcuffs didn't allow him to reach further than half a foot, it was a long and arduous process but he managed to make it nearly halfway up the cliff-side before he heard the scream from below.

Danny gave a sudden jolt, losing his grip on the dirt-ridden grass, the thin trunk he was standing on slipped out of the earth, roots and all, and with a fantastic scream, Danny fell over ten feet. He landed in the shallow pool, sucking water into his lungs with a pained gurgle – there was no doubt that there were going to be bruising. The tree that had snapped had scraped his side, tearing off the first few layers of his skin making it trickle blood sluggishly.

Something heavy kicked him in his kidney and Danny howled in pain. He shoved himself forward, snatching his sore side and turned to the girl who had fallen over him.

"Watch it!" he snarled.

But the girl ignored him. With wide, panicked eyes she flung herself away, scrambling to her feet and disappearing into the underbrush without a second glance.

"What?" Danny said before he felt the pressure of a hand grasp itself into his hair. He was slammed forward into the water as the biter fell on top of him, dead fingers scrambling for a grip-hold. The snarls were muffled as water flooded his ears and he felt hands trying to grip at him through the water. Frustrated, he turned his torso in a sharp twist that Danny was sure he would never have been able to execute on land, and kicked his legs off the silt-covered floor and shoved his face out of the water for much-needed air. The biter snarled just mere inches away from his face, making Danny scream in fright, shoving his manacled hands forward. The thin chain caught between the biter's teeth and he flinched as it ignored the way its gums bit into the metal, sawing through the rotting flesh of the corners of its lips.

Danny pushed back harder as the biter groaned, dull nails trying to break through the skin of his shoulders as they grasped for his neck. With a growl of his own Danny pressed the chain tauter into the biter's mouth, watching with a sickened fascination as the metal slipped right through, sawing through the flesh to resemble a Glasgow smile. The chain was tight enough around the biter's skull that Danny could pinch the other manacle with one hand, the biter now resembling less than a broken ventriloquist doll, but Danny shoved harder, forcing the biter to slip back into the water. Danny clambered on top of it, propelling the handcuffs deeper into the biter's skull. The chain dug further in until finally, the top of the biters head slipped clean off, sending a plume of reddish-black blood toward Danny's hovering face.

Jumping back, Danny looked at his hands in horror. The blood was slipping off them in rivulets of water, but they still felt dirty. It was one thing for that weird green gunk to destroy the biters, but he had never thought he would have to do it with his own hands. He didn't know he could…

Deep welts surrounded his wrists and his right hand held a rather nasty slice where the cuff had dug in too far. His blood was tinged a sickly green that appeared near-iridescent beside the biter's. Wading out of the shallows Danny stared down at his sodden bandage and jeans, giving his soaked shoes an annoyed shake.

Glancing up at the ravine again he began to map out a new path to reach the top. He would have to take it slower, his back ached from the fall and his side hurt where the girl had kicked him.

The girl.

Danny swivelled on the spot. There was a doll lying not too far away from where he had landed, with red yarn hair and button eyes. It would have been cute if it wasn't so filthy.

"Little girl!" Danny cupped his hands to his mouth, "Little girl! Where are you?"

The ravine was silent. Not even the birds were chirping anymore. Danny shuffled his feet around the sand, cocking his head in hopes of hearing any sort of reply.

A shrill scream met his ears.

With a curse, Danny tore his way through the underbrush. The shrieking continued, louder this time and Danny forced his legs to work faster. He barraged his way through a tight copse of trees only to halt just as suddenly. A biter was already leaning over the girl from where she had tripped, she beat weakly at the biter's head that had clasped onto her shoulder with its teeth. Her shrieks quickly turning to gurgles as blood spluttered at the corners of her mouth.

The biter had a knife lodged in its back; with only a second of hesitation, Danny leapt forward, wrenching the blade from its spine and shoving it into its skull. The biter collapsed on top of the girl, who gave a pained whimper, eyes beginning to close. Danny pocketed the knife, rushing to her side.

"Little girl!" he cried, clasping a hand over the wound to staunch the flow. There was already so much blood.

The girl burst into a torrent of tears, "Mummy!" she cried, "Mummy!"

Danny gave a gentle shushing sound like his mother used to whenever he was hurt, "Hey, hey. It's okay. What's your name?"

"S-Sophia," the girl hiccupped through tears, before bursting out, "I want m-m-my mummy!"

The blood was still leaking furiously through Danny's fingers and he grimaced, "We'll find your mum, okay. We'll find her."

Sophia shook her head furiously. She could barely hear him through her shock, "It hurts! It really hurts! Mummy!"

First, you get the bite.

Danny snatched the bottom of his jeans, tearing off a large chunk with strength that surprised him. He began to ravel the cloth around her shoulder, marvelling how similar his own bite was.

"Here, this'll stop the flow. Then we can move to find your mum, okay, Sophia?"

Sophia gave a trembling nod, her bottom lip quivering. Danny looped the knife through his belt and helped the girl slowly to her feet.

"Your hair has white in it," she said dazed, gesturing at her forehead, "Right there. Why is it white?"

Danny shrugged, flicking the lock of white hair from his eyes and slipping his manacled hands under his legs, "Dunno, just have it." He knelt on the ground facing away from her, thankful for being double-jointed, "Hop on."

Sophia clambered onto his back slowly, and Danny nearly keeled under the extra weight, but he forced himself to his feet, his handcuffs chiming cheerily, and carefully made his way back to the ravine wall. Sophia clung to him and he could hear her sniffling into his neck.

Danny looked up at the cliff-side he just fell down from, "This is our only way out. The water is too deep for us to travel through safely. I haven't got any hands so I'm going to need your help, Sophia."

Feeling the nod more than seeing it, Danny made his way to one of the lower rock formations. Leaning his weight forward he pushed himself up, carefully balancing as he stepped higher onto the shallow crevices. His feet threatened to slip more than once and he was thankful for Sophia's quick reflexes when she reached out to grasp a nearby branch or grass clump, stopping them from tumbling down the thirty-foot cliff.

It was a slow and exhausting process; night time had nearly fallen when they eventually made it to the top. Danny was panting hard, his ankles ached from their lack of dexterity and the immense pressure they had been under. With a last heave, Danny shoved the two of them over the lip of the cliff, nearly sending him face-planting into the grass.

"We did it!" he wheezed, "Sophia, we did it! We made it! Sophia? Sophia!"

Danny looked over his uninjured shoulder at the girl, her chin resting gently on it. Her skin was sallow and her eyes half closed as soft breaths puffed against Danny's cheek.

Hurriedly lowering Sophia to the ground Danny stepped back over the chain between his handcuffs, reaching for the little girl. Her short-cropped blonde hair was glue to her face as sweat trickled down it.

Then you get the fever.

"Sophia?"

Danny stared down at the little girl in horror. Her eyelids fluttered as she murmured out, "Mummy?"

He shoved a sodden piece of hair out of her face, "We'll find your mum, Sophia, I promise, okay? But you have to stay awake, yeah?"

Sophia gave a rattling breath and Danny watched terrified as her eyes began to shut.

"Sophia?" he whispered, "Sophia! Keep your eyes open! How are we supposed to find your mum if you aren't able to see her?"

Sophia's lips barely moved and Danny had to move closer, "It… it hurts."

Danny swallowed thickly, "I know it hurts. I know. But we gotta keep going if— Sophia?"

He snatched her arm when she didn't respond. The makeshift bandage on her shoulder was soaked through, unable to hold any more blood and Danny pressed his fingers to her wrist, trying to find a pulse. With a growl, he shoved his head against her ribcage, refusing to breathe, waiting for the tell-tale sound of a heartbeat. But there was nothing.

Then you die.

Danny fell back on his haunches, letting his head drop against his chest. Sophia lay next to him, looking nearly serene. Snatching the knife by his side, Danny angrily plunged it into the ground, again and again. He yelled and cried and screamed, stabbing at the earth over and over until his muscles begged for him to stop.

He sat there, panting. The forest was peaceful; birds twittered away in the treetops and frogs croaked down in the valley. It seemed like he was the odd one out; angry, terrified… alone. He didn't belong.

Then you come back… as one of them.

He stared at Sophia lying limp on the ground and heaved a terrific sigh. He knew what he had to do. There was no way around it. Yanking the knife out of the grass, he crawled over to the little girl. He gently placed a hand on the side of her head, carefully lifting it as he held the knife at the ready—

This felt wrong. Like he was killing her himself, but he'd made a promise to Sophia. He was going to get her back to her mother, and he wasn't going to give the poor woman the remains of a monster.

With that thought, Danny gripped the base of Sophia's head tighter and clenched his eyes shut. The knife pierced her skull like butter, sliding up into her brain from the hilt and Danny nearly threw up at the sound. He wrenched the blade from Sophia and tossed it as far as he could, not able to bear the sight of it. Nausea fell over him and he stumbled to the cliff edge and brought back up everything that was in his stomach. He continued to throw up until he had nothing but bile burning its way up his throat.

Danny wheezed in pain, wiping his mouth on his wrist before turning back to Sophia. She looked the same – unharmed, carefree – and Danny felt a little better about his choice. He carefully slipped his cuffed hands back under his legs and went about positioning Sophia onto his back again. It was hard work, as the girl was literal dead-weight, but eventually, he was finally able to slide her on. His knees buckled slightly under the effort, yet he trudged forward into the depths of the forest.

"I'll find your mother, Sophia. I promise."

…

It's a rather dramatic first chapter, I'll admit. It's not the most cheerful story either which makes me feel slightly put-out, because I love happy stories as a whole, but I wanted to challenge myself at making a dystopia that hopefully isn't overly dramatic or angsty. We'll see.