Gregory Halson sat in front of the radio, his head resting against the cool metal desktop. They hadn't heard anything from Doctor Amèlie Rose, a scientist up in Canada, in days. Julia that morning had nearly thrown her coffee mug on the floor in desperation. What had happened to Dr. Rose? Was she still alive? Gregory's eyelids began to droop, feeling as heavy as lead. Then there was a loud crackle, the sound of the radio coming to life, and through the static he could hear a voice.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Greg? Freddy?" Dr. Rose asked, her voice fading in and out. Gregory bolted upright and grabbed the speaker, pressing the button on the side so that he could speak.

"Dr. Rose? It's me, Greg, are you okay?" Greg exclaimed.

"I'm fine, I haven't been able to get to the radio, I have something important," Dr. Rose said, her voice fading out slightly at the end, but then her voice came back, "There has been a spike in infected. The survivor camp in Toronto, it's gone. The disease spread there, everyone's gone. And I believe the lack of survivors here are driving the infected south."

"The Toronto camp's gone?" Greg repeated, his eyes growing wide. He never thought Toronto would fall. A sickening feeling churned in his stomach.

"Yes, there wasn't anything I could do. Have you gotten in touch with Dr. Wilkins?" Dr. Rose questioned.

"Dr. Wilkins is making her way to California, at least that's what Julia reported last time we talked," Greg answered.

"Have you seen any increase in infected activity?" Dr. Rose pressed.

"I… yes, admittedly, I believe so, yes," Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Dr. Wilkins better know what she's doing with this cure," Dr. Rose spat, the bitterness in her voice clear as a bell. It had been ages since Dr. Rose had talked about "the cure" aloud. To her, it was a fools errand, something that was impossible. At this rate, it'd take a miracle for enough of the human population to survive without a cure, let alone expanding the manpower to find a cure in the first place. It had been attempted before, to no avail. What Dr. Wilkins thinking, Dr. Rose would never know. The woman needed a miracle.

"Dr. Wilkins assures me that she has this covered," Greg said, trailing off at the end. There was a beat of silence. Then Dr. Rose said, "Alright, I'll check back in when I can. Stay strong, Gregory." Then the line went dead.

Gregory put down the radio handpiece and leaned back in his chair. He shut his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Then, he stood up, pushing his chair in as he did so, and then exited the tiny closet. Freddy and Julia were sat on the couch. Julia was leafing through a book and Freddy seemed to be asleep.

"Alright, Dr. Rose just called in," Greg cleared his throat. Julia threw the book down onto the coffee table in front of the couch before elbowing Freddy awake.

"What'd she say?" Julia asked.

"She was upset to hear that Dr. Wilkins is still on her search for a means of a cure. And she also said she believes that the infected up in the North are making their way to the South," Greg reported.

"Damn," Julia swore, "Why doesn't she see the sense in what the doc's trying to do?"

"Dr. Rose said it was pointless," shrugged Greg, unsure what Julia expected him to say.

"I think the more pressing matter is that bit with the infected in it," Freddy pointed out. Julia ran a hand through her hair, but she agreed.

"Better get the word out as quickly as possible, especially to the doc," Julia sighed.

The night had passed with only one incident (Peter had kicked at Davy in his sleep thinking he was an infected) but overall, everyone had gotten enough sleep. When Davy woke, he found Micky missing from bed. Mike however was still fast asleep, which was nothing short than a miracle. Peter too was absent from the bed and so Davy decided it was time he got up and saw what the others were up too. He got dressed as quickly and quietly as he could, so as to not disturbed Michael's slumber. Then he slipped out of the room. There didn't appear to be anyone in the pad when Davy exited his room, but a moment later he heard Micky's voice coming from the porch. Davy wandered outside to find Isaac and Micky sitting on two of the three chairs that were out there.

"Good morning Isaac, good morning Micky," Davy called out, taking the third seat.

"We didn't wake you, did we Davy?" Micky asked. Davy shook his head no.

"Where's Peter?" Davy inquired.

"He is down at the beach," replied Isaac. Davy's eyes went wide and he was about to demand why Micky had allowed this when Micky cut in.

"Come crouch over here where I'm sitting," Micky instructed. Davy did so and Micky pointed a finger towards the beach. There was a large gap in between two of the bushes that surrounded the porch. Through the bushes, Davy was able to see the beach. It took him a moment to realize that, along with being able to see the beach, he was able to see Peter. Their friend was sat in by the water's edge, so that every time a wave crashed the water would tickle his toes.

"It's still risky for him to be down there alone," Davy pointed out, although he felt better. Micky gave a shrug of shoulders and said, "He doesn't exactly know that Isaac and I have been up here keeping an eye on him."

"Why is he down there? He hasn't left the pad in ages," Davy wondered, resuming his perch on the third chair.

"I'm not sure, we should ask him when he comes back up," Micky commented.

Isaac cleared his throat and asked, "I don't mean to intrude but may I ask something?"

"Sure, of course," Micky replied.

"I've noticed your friend Peter is very quiet and you all seem very concerned for him… I was wondering how he is doing?" Isaac inquired. Micky and Davy exchanged glances, then Davy answered, "He's just taken this whole thing quite hard. I mean, we all have of course, and we've all been looking out for each other. I think for Peter it's easier for him to keep mostly to himself. He's not for fighting."

"Well I mean Mike turned a lot into our mom when this whole thing started," Micky added. Isaac nodded, understandingly.

"Do you make sure he gets enough to eat and enough sleep?" he asked, unsure if this was a polite enough question.

"Yeah, but it's hard, he's very insistent on giving away half of his rations and you can get pretty hungry sometimes. Sleepwise, Peter has terrible nightmares and wakes up more tired than when we went to bed," Micky admitted.

"But everyone has trouble sleeping in a time like this, and Peter's only trying to be nice. We've all given each other half a ration or two, now and then," Davy pointed out, "Why all of the questions Isaac?" Isaac chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before answering, "All of you seem like nice, capable young men and I can understand how hard it is for any survivor. I lost my family to the infection, but as a doctor I had seen death before. It hurt but I knew it was important I keep going on. Heather lost her parents and most likely her entire family as well. She's very young, and she didn't see much of a point in going on. That's why I ask." Davy and Micky grew quiet.

"You're a good guy Isaac," Micky said after a moment, "I'm glad you think about that sort of stuff. But none of us would be doing anything like that any time soon. As long as we have each other, we can get through anything."

"Yeah, and I hope you lot will stick around too," Davy added with a smile.

"Oh, we will stay as long as we are welcome. Heather likes it here very much and I wouldn't plan on taking her out of such a lovely environment too soon," Isaac assured the two of them.

"Well I'll tell ya something, Mike may seem like he'd rather you guys gone but really I think he wants you guys to stay," Micky whispered, grinning broadly. They talked a little more after that. Micky and Davy voiced a few of their worries about their group, Isaac did his best to reassure them, and he even was able to give Davy some peace of mind in regards to his home country. Isaac had, a couple of months ago, heard on the radio a man in London broadcasting on empty channels. From there he had gathered that much of the world was in a similar, desperate state, but that this fellow had said that there were a significant amount of people within the UK who were still alive. This relieved Davy greatly and Micky was happy to hear him go on about his family over the sea. That had been a sore subject for him for some time but, at least for a little bit, the pain was subsided. It was only a few minutes later when Peter appeared on the porch. Davy had nearly forgotten that he had been down on the beach.

"Morning Peter!" Micky called out brightly. A slight frown creased Peter's brow.

"What are you all doing out here?" he asked.

"Just having a chat," Davy responded.

"You won't tell Mike I was down there alone, will you?" Peter inquired, realizing that they must have noticed that he had snuck down to the beach.

"Wouldn't dream of it man," Micky promised.

"Speaking of Mike, we better get everyone up so we can start the day," Davy said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

"Yeah, we gotta do rounds," grumbled Micky.

"I'll get breakfast ready," Davy announced before walking back inside the pad. Isaac excused himself with the duties of having to go wake up Ronda and Heater. It was only Micky and Peter left out on the porch. Before Peter could go inside, Micky grabbed him by the elbow.

"Hey, wait Pete, I want to ask you something," Micky told him. Peter looked at him with a mix of uncomfortableness and confusion.

"Alright Micky," he said.

"Why'd you go down on the beach alone this morning?" Micky questioned. An uncomfortable feeling crept it's way into Peter's stomach and he felt a bit sick. Micky hadn't asked it to be mean, he just seemed a bit worried and Peter couldn't blame him. He knew going down to the beach alone was a dangerous risk. Peter glanced down at his bare feet.

"I go down there a lot actually… whenever I can in the mornings. I watch the sunrise. And I think while I do that…. I'm sorry," Peter murmured. Micky chewed on his bottom lip, unsure of what to say exactly. He didn't like the fact that Peter was being so reckless but at the same time it was a relief to know that Peter was getting out of the pad, specifically his room.

"There's no need to be sorry Peter," Micky finally said after a moment, "All I'd say is take me, Davy, or Mike with ya. Even Ronda, Isaac, or Heather, I guess too. Just don't go alone anymore. Because you aren't alone babe, you've got us." For a moment, Peter looked as if he was going to cry, but the blonde merely sniffled a little and gave Micky a quick, tight hug instead.

"Alright Micky," he smiled. A seagull screeched loudly and took off from nearby. Peter jumped, grabbing onto Micky's arm, as if that action would protect him.

"We should get inside," Micky chuckled, patting Peter on the back.