Heather was asleep on the bed. There wasn't much to do around here. The food here was good, in some ways Mike was glad they had come and would have relaxed a bit if it weren't for the feeling of unease that still plagued him.

It was evening time. Isaac was talking with Peter quietly. Mike could only catch snippets of words. Mike sat next to Heather's sleeping form. They were waiting. Waiting for rescue or waiting for something bad to happen here, Mike wasn't sure, but they were waiting for something.

There was a knock on the door. Mike got up and opened it. Dr. Wilkins stood in the threshold, smiling broadly. It looked terribly forced.

"Hiya," Mike greeted uncertainly, a frown creasing his brow.

"Good afternoon," Wilkins returned the greeting. She peered into the room.

"Can we help you?" Isaac asked, standing at this point.

"Well, yes, I'd like to talk to Peter privately," Dr. Wilkins answered.

"About what?" Mike pressed.

"His immunity," Dr. Wilkins said. Her smile disappeared for a moment as she glared at Michael.

"Okay, sounds good to me," Peter piped up, hopping to his feet and walking over to the door, despite the foreboding feeling that had settled in his stomach the moment Mike had opened the door to reveal Dr. Wilkins.

Mike grabbed his elbow, holding onto Peter. Dr. Wilkins continued to smile.

"Isaac can come with the two of you," Mike stated, refusing to break eye contact with Dr. Wilkins.

"That won't be necessary. I'm only going to talk with him for twenty minutes tops," Dr. Wilkins promised, although both she and Mike knew she was lying, although Mike was not sure her true motives while Wilkins knew exactly what she had up her sleeve.

"Mike, it's okay," Peter said, gently prying Mike off of himself, "I'll be right back."

Mike chewed on his bottom lip for a moment but nodded. Peter turned to Dr. Wilkins and side-stepped past Mike so that he was outside the room. He waved at Mike and Isaac, but only Isaac waved back. Mike didn't like this at all, not one bit.

Dr. Wilkins lead Peter along a similar hallway to the one she had led the group down yesterday. Peter was unsure if he should attempt to talk to Dr. Wilkins, maybe figure some things out if he could.

The foreboding feeling was slowly churning in his stomach though, and made him second guess conversation. A young man in a white lab coat appeared out of a side door. He looked at Peter, then to Dr. Wilkins.

"Dr. Wilkins, can I help you?" he asked. Dr. Wilkins grinned and clapped the man on his shoulder.

"Just the man I wanted to see. Follow us. Peter, this is Dan. Dan is my assistant here," Dr. Wilkins introduced him.

Peter held out his hand, assuming that Dan would want to shake hands, but Dan paled and scooted away from Peter. Peter thought this odd but didn't put much credit to the action.

"We should get going, Dr. Wilkins, if we're doing this now. Yaseen and Kris are waiting. Father Carl's growing impatient," Dan said to Wilkins in a hushed voice.

"Of course, let's go," Dr. Wilkins nodded.

The pace was sped up and Peter did his best to try to find landmarks so that if he needed to make a bolt for it back to where Mike, Heather, and Isaac were he could find his way, but the hallways all looked the same. White wall paper with tiled floors, sometimes carpet. There was hardly ever a variation.

Then Dr. Wilkins took a sudden right and the hallway changed dramatically. The walls were concrete, grey and drab, the floor the same. It gave Peter the shivers. They approached the end of the hallway, which ended in a bolted door. An older woman, Yaseen, and a middle-aged man, Kris, stood before the door.

"Finally, it took you long enough. Father Carl-," Yaseen began to say but Wilkins finished for her.

"Is growing impatient, I know," she mumbled before turning to Peter.

"Alright, are you ready?" she asked, smiling a wolf's smile.

"I'm confused, what does any of this have to do with anything?" Peter questioned, staring at the door. There was a distant, quiet moaning coming from behind it.

"Well Peter, we have to test that you're truly immune. It's highly important you know. Then we can examine your body as it fights off the virus, to better understand what makes you different than the rest of us," Dr. Wilkins answered.

Peter's heart seized up, realizing what had to be behind that door and realizing what Dr. Wilkins was planning. He didn't want to get infected again, not if he could help it. Plus, study him? How would they study him?

He turned around to start to run away but Kris was right there behind him.

"Sorry buddy," Kris mumbled, looking sincerely apologetic.

He turned Peter back around and held onto his arms.

"It'd be best if you don't fight, I don't envy you," Kris murmured into Peter's ear.

"Please, what are you going to do to me?" Peter nearly wailed, trying to worm his way out of Kris's grip.

"Dr. Wilkins, do your thing," Yaseen snapped as she pulled out a ring of keys and picked one out.

Wilkins gave Yaseen an unsavoury look and disappeared for a moment. Peter strained his neck to see where she had gone, to see what she was doing, but Kris kept him tight in his grip, keeping him forward.

Yaseen began to unlock the bolts that were on the door. Peter hadn't noticed them until now. His heart was trying to claw out of his ribcage. Dr. Wilkins returned. In her hand was a syringe. Peter's eyes went wide. He didn't necessarily like needles.

"No! What- stop! Mike! Isaac! Michael!" Peter began shouting, hoping beyond hope that Mike or Isaac or Heather would hear him. In the back of his mind, he knew shouting wouldn't help.

"Now Wilkins!" snapped Yaseen. She was nearing the final lock.

Dr. Wilkins quickly stepped over to Peter, who continued to shout and lash out as best he could. Kris manipulated Peter so that his neck was exposed and Dr. Wilkins's shirt obscured nearly everything in Peter's sight. He felt a painful prick in his neck.

A few moments after Dr. Wilkins stepped back, Peter's vision began to swim. Drugs. Morphine or something. A sedative. That's what was now in his system. He had to fight, had to get away.

"Michael… please… I can't, please I don't wanna," Peter pleaded.

"He won't feel anything now?" Kris asked, his grip loosening.

Peter tried to escape then but, although Kris was now merely keeping him upright, he couldn't get away.

"Yes, not a thing, as long as we-," Dr. Wilkins's voice drifted further and further away as if Peter were traveling down a tunnel.

Peter fell down the tunnel, trying to demand his mouth move, his legs move, but to no avail. The last thing Peter saw was Yassen opening the door. A small infected boy was chained to the wall.

Micky, Davy, and Ronda had followed George and Tara in the Monkeemobile. There hadn't been any trouble on the drive to the church. As they parked, the place seemed almost abandoned, excluding the lights that were on of course. The plan was that George was going to keep an eye on the cars while the others went inside.

Depending on how long it took them, Davy would be dispatched to go back and start the Monkeemobile to get everything ready for a quick getaway. So Davy, Micky, Ronda, and Tara exited their respective cars and entered the building, no problem. Tara had predicted this. No one really was around to attack the church.

They each were equipped with two of the firearms that Tara and George had, all except George himself and Ronda, who refused to take one. Micky felt weird with it in hand, felt weird knowing he might have to fire it or something.

Tara was indifferent. She wanted to get this over with. All of this was for George, in case something happened to her. And finally, Davy was mad. Through his anger, he knew that he was going to do just about anything to get his friends out of here, with no harm done to them.

"Okay, just follow me. There are a couple of rooms they kept me and George in so your friends might be," Tara whispered.

"Hopefully," Ronda muttered under her breath.

Tara lead them quietly down a few hallways, turning left then right. It was oddly quiet, easier than any of them had expected. Where was everyone? Then a young woman exited a room and stared, wide-eyed, at the group.

"W-what are you doing here?" she stammered.

Tara leveled her weapon at the woman, who paled.

"Where are the visitors? The ones you're going to kill?" Tara demanded.

"Room 25. Please," the woman breathed, her forehead breaking out into a sweat.

The group broke out into a jog. Davy noted that the woman had scurried away, just as they had all turned their backs. Probably off to go alert someone. They needed to hurry. Room 23, room 24, finally they reached room 25.

Davy opened the door. Tara and Ronda were going to watch the ends of the hall. Inside, Mike was mid-pace. His eyes went wide when he saw Davy and Micky.

"Jeez guys, took y'all long enough," he grumbled, but quickly gave both Micky and Davy a hug.

"What are the weapons for?" Isaac asked.

"This place is bad and we have to get out of here right now," Davy explained. He looked around the room and then asked, "Where's Peter?"

"Huh? Micky!" Heather exclaimed as she woke up, finally.

She hopped up and nearly tackled Micky, then Davy. Isaac pried her away from the two of them.

"Peter went with Dr. Wilkins, to start looking for a cure," Isaac answered.

"That means she's told Father Carl about him, they're going to kill him soon, if he's not already dead," Tara piped up, sticking her head into the room.

"Who's she?" Mike asked.

"A friend, it's fine, look Micky, switch with me but follow the plan. Take them and Tara back to the cars, get ready. Isaac and I will go on, with Ronda watching our backs," Davy instructed.

Micky nodded and then took Heather's hand. Mike, Micky, Heather, and Tara then headed back towards the front.

"You don't happen to know where they took Peter?" Davy asked.

Isaac shook his head. Davy headed out of the room. Isaac followed closely at his heels and Ronda watched their backs, staying behind a foot or two. A group of four men appeared in front of them suddenly.

"Freeze!" one of them shouted, holding up a gun.

Davy rushed the leader, taking his legs out and bowling him into one of his companions. Ronda swooped in and helped take out another one. The last one, Davy pulled up and pushed back against the wall.

"Where's Peter? The immune guy?" Davy demanded, making sure the guard knew the weapon Davy had on him.

"I-I swear, I don't know," the man answered, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to let you do this to him," Davy barked and then slammed the butt of the firearm in his hand into the shoulder of the guard.

He cried out and Davy hit him again.

"Speak," Davy prompted.

"The door! The left door, down the hall make a right. It's the operating room. Y-you can't miss it okay!" the guard squeaked.

Davy hit him once more and then broke away, quickly making his way down the hallway. Isaac and Ronda exchanged worried glances, although Ronda was less concerned considering. In this past twenty-four hours or so, she had learned a lot about Davy and Micky. In turn, they had learned a lot about her as well.

Isaac saw this as unusually uncharacteristic but Ronda understood that Davy's need to save his friend. She herself was willing to use force to help him. The trio followed the directions that the guard had given Davy and soon Isaac pointed to a pair of swing doors.

"I'm guessing this is what he meant by the operating room," he murmured.

Ronda entered first and it opened into an almost barren room, except for the table that dominated the center of the room. Sprawled on the table was Peter. It seemed that the trio was walking in at an awkward moment.

An older gentleman who was clearly a priest was standing in an opposite doorway. Dr. Wilkins was being restrained by a bulky man as a petite woman walked towards Peter with a syringe. Dr. Wilkins was crying, saying how they couldn't do this, not now, not when a cure was right in front of their faces.

"The anti-christ must die, Dr. Wilkins, it is the only way we shall repent for our sins," the priest was saying just as the trio entered the room.

Dr. Wilkins's eyes locked upon them and she screamed, "Please! Stop them, don't let them kill him! My boy, he needs him!"

There was a terrifying moment of silence then suddenly a gunshot went off. Isaac jumped backward, the bulky man holding Dr. Wilkins flinched and let her go. She rushed forward and wrenched the petite woman with the syringe away from Peter.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Davy warned as Dr. Wilkins neared Peter's unconscious body.

It had been him who had fired the gun and now he had it aimed in the direction of Wilkins, although his hand was shaking too much for him to be a good shot. Dr. Wilkins held up her hands, holding them high above her head.

"Please, you must let me work on him. I need this cure. My son, he needs it," Wilkins pleaded.

"I don't care," Davy said flatly.

"Davy, let's just… all calm down," Isaac suggested.

Ronda shook her head and stepped forward, just in time to dart across the room to meet the bulky man who had held Dr. Wilkins. He was aiming to tackle Davy to the floor. Ronda swung her bat and the tip connected with the side of his head. He crumpled to the floor.

The priest began shouting and disappeared through the back door. The gun was fired again. Ronda only heard it. A second later, Dr. Wilkins was sobbing on the floor, cradling the arm that the bullet had grazed.

"Isaac, grab Peter, we must leave now, they'll be upon us," snapped Ronda.

She quickly went over to Davy and placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her and between them, she knew he was alright.

"I'll watch our backs, keep the front clear, Isaac will stay in the middle," Davy said to her.

Ronda nodded her agreement. Isaac quickly scooped Peter into his arms and then they made their way through the hallways, backtracking to the front doors. There wasn't any trouble on the way back, although Davy was ready to fire a warning shot if need be at any moment.

Once they made it outside, George honked the horn, a warning sign for them to hurry up. Tara was in the Monkeemobile with Mike at the wheel and Heather in the back. This left Ronda to go clamber into the back seat with her.

Isaac and Davy scrambled into the car George was driving, Micky sitting in the passenger's side. Bullets began to spew out of the church opening, towards the cars. George stepped on the gas and Mike followed. In the back seat, Isaac began to check Peter.

"He should be alright. I think the fever has passed too. He's just been drugged," Isaac reported.

"No harm done or anything?" Micky asked.

"No, not that I can see," Isaac replied.

"Where are we going?" Davy asked George.

"Outta town. Can't be staying here. We're gonna be in for some trouble though. The area round here is crawling with infected thanks to them," came George's reply.

There was silence for a long moment. Then Isaac asked, "Davy, are you feeling alright?"

Davy raised an eyebrow at Isaac.

"I'm fine, why do you ask?" he answered.

"Well…," Isaac began but didn't exactly know how to phrase his words, "You were quite heated back at the church."

"Davy wasn't heated, just dramatic. Did you know, Isaac, that soap operas are Davy's speciality?" Micky joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"At least I have some taste," Davy retorted, a thin smile on his face.

"I see, well you were quite good at fighting," Isaac chuckled, a frown creasing his brow.

In the car behind, Mike was pressing Ronda to know what had happened.

"Peter is alright. Davy, I, and Isaac arrived just in time," Ronda reassured him.

"I can't believe I let that happen. He could have died," Michael mumbled to himself.

"Look man, you didn't know anything about what was going on. Jeez, your friends didn't either until my brother and I told them," Tara offered.

She liked Mike already. Maybe it was the almost naive sense she got from Micky and Davy, or maybe she just liked the looks of Nesmith, but Tara thought that this was someone she could trust her life to. Of course Mike still had no opinion on her or George, considering there hadn't been much of a chance for serious introductions.

"Well I gotta make sure," said Mike, "Ya think we're far enough to stop for a minute or something?"

"As long as we only stop for a minute or something, sure," Tara replied.

Mike flashed the headlights. George saw this and frowned. He wasn't entirely sure what Mike wanted.

"Pull over, he's asking to stop," Micky chimed in just at the right moment.

"Oh, I thought it was a warning. Okay," George sighed and pulled off the road, parking near a little cluster of trees.

Mike pulled over as well, putting the Monkeemobile in park behind George. After taking the keys out of the ignition and shoving them into his pocket, he clambered out of the car. Heather bundled out, wanting to see the guys again. She had been filled in on what had happened while she had been asleep.

Ronda and Tara also followed, neither wanting to miss out on any sort of discussion that might follow. Micky got out of the car and gave Heather a hug. The back doors had been opened by Davy and Isaac.

"Is Pete okay?" Mike asked, trying to see if Peter had been harmed.

With the lights on Isaac noticed the slight bruising on Peter's arms and the scratches around his neck. He had definitely been infected, although it must have passed considering Isaac could not feel any temperature or high fever.

"He's roughed up a tiny bit, but he's fine," Isaac answered.

"They were going to kill him," Davy said, "How can anyone be so… so stupid? Mean."

"Well, we gotta just figure out what we're gonna do now," came Mike's response.

"We should go back to the pad, back to California," Heather pouted, wrapping Micky's arms closer around her.

She was cold, it was quite cold out. And she wanted to go home, which was at this point the pad.

"We're close to Washington, aren't we? We could go see Heather's relatives, like we planned," Isaac suggested.

"That would take at least two days," Tara guessed.

"I just want to go home," Heather whined.

"Don't worry Heather, we're gonna be just fine, whether we go or not," Micky reassured her.

"Alright. Let's take a vote, like we did before. Tara would you like to count?" Davy piped up.

"Why me?" inquired Tara, surprised that it would be her to count the votes.

"Well, unless you are strongly in favour of one of the options, then you're the newest member I suppose and you might as well, unless you do not want to," Davy shrugged.

"Alright, I'll count," Tara agreed after a moment.

"Okay, we're voting for going to Washington or going back to the pad, which for reference is in California Tara and George," Mike repeated for the benefit of everyone.

"Um, alrighty, so all those in favour of going to California?" Tara asked.

Heather's hand shot straight into the air. Micky also raised his hand, although he felt more neutral than anything else. This was the same thing George felt, although more strongly, yet he felt that going back to their home base would help integrate himself and his sister more than the second option.

No one else raised their hand.

"All those in favour of going to Washington?" Tara continued.

Isaac raised his hand, alongside Ronda. They both thought it would be good for Heather to find out what happened to her aunt and cousin, no matter what awaited her. It would be good for closure. Mike's hand joined them and finally Davy did as well.

It was obvious which side had won.

"Well, going to California wins," Tara announced.

"We'll have to stop sometime tomorrow if we drive all night," Mike pointed out.

"We should stop somewhere soon. It's worse to travel at night," Ronda rumbled.

"Isn't there a motel a little ways up the road Tara?" George questioned.

"I think so, yea," answered Tara, "I guess we could stop there, if it's all clear."

"That sounds like the best plan ever," Micky grinned.

"Micky, will you come in the car with me?" Heather pleaded.

"How about Micky and I switch with Mike and Ronda? I'm sure that'd work for everyone," Davy suggested.

It did work. Mike was eager to be with Peter, having been so worried, although he would be more relaxed when they all stopped and his three friends could be in his sight at the same time.

The quiet of the night settled in as they drove. Heather fell asleep, her head resting on Micky's shoulder. Micky and Davy talked quietly so as not to disturb the young girl. They didn't talk about anything important, just random retellings of older stories and the possibility of writing a new song, something neither of them had discussed in awhile.

Tara fell asleep, her head rested against the passenger's side window. Mike was holding onto Peter's hand. He had made Isaac tell him everything that had happened. The fact that Davy had nearly shot someone unnerved Michael. This was a new side of Davy, not necessarily a bad one of course. If it had been Mike, he probably would have done the same exact thing.

Yet it still didn't settle well in Mike's stomach. It should have been him protecting them. He held onto Peter's hand and the two cars silently sped down the road. About ten minutes later, Peter jerked forward, screaming. Isaac grabbed ahold of him, pushing him backwards.

"Don't hurt me!" Peter wailed.

"Peter it's okay!" Isaac assured him swiftly.

"You're safe Pete," Mike added.

Peter gazed around, taking deep breathes. After a moment, he leaned his head back against the seat and shut his eyes.

"My head hurts an awful lot," he mumbled.

"They had you on some heavy sedatives," Isaac informed him, "Is there anything else that feels wrong or hurts?"

"No, just my headache," Peter replied, "How'd…. how'd we get here?"

Mike and Isaac caught Peter up to speed, introducing George and Tara as well. It was convenient that Davy had suggested the car switch.

"We're coming up on the motel," George announced.

"Good, I think we could all use some rest," Isaac sighed. Mike was quick to agree. They all deserved a nice rest after everything that had happened.

Maria, Zak, and Yaseen stood in Father Carl's office, silently waiting for the Father to enter. After what had happened last night, they had been sent for.

The anti-christ and his companions had escaped. An injured Dr. Wilkins had also disappeared during the commotion and her car was missing. Presumably, she had left in search for the anti-christ.

The door opened and Father Carl entered the room. He hobbled over to his desk chair and lowered himself into it.

"Thank you for coming," Father Carl wheezed.

"What's all this about sir?" Maria questioned.

"You are all up to date, I assume, to the events that have transpired in the past twenty-four hours," Father Carl answered, "In light of everything, I want you three to gather a group of three or four each and find the anti-christ. It's imperative that we find it and kill it. If we fail God's duty, our souls will be forever damned to this Hell on earth."

"Of course sir, right away," Zak nodded his head.

"I want Maria going North, Zak heading South, and Yaseen can take East," Father Carl instructed, "And make sure Kris is being handled. His insubordination last night is unforgivable."

"He's being handled as we speak, sir. I will double check, of course sir," Yaseen spoke.

"Good, good. Keep an eye out for Dr. Wilkins as well. We will need to take care of her if we find her," added Father Carl.

Maria, Zak, and Yaseen all said, "Yes sir".

"Now get to it," Father Carl waved a hand at the three of them.

They nodded and exited the office.

Dr. Wilkins was sat in her car, twenty miles away from the church. She was parked in the lot of a pharmacy which she had just raided. The small one had got her good. She was lucky the bullet just grazed her shoulder.

The wound needed to be stitched, which was exactly what Victoria was doing now. It hurt, a lot, but she needed to stitch it up and keep it clean. God forbid the wound would get infected. Just because it wasn't the virus, a regular infection could still be just as deadly, minus the zombie like after affect the virus had.

Her next stop would be the liquor store she had spotted down the street. Hopefully there was something left she could use to help clean the wound. After all this, she would have to figure out where they had gone, Peter and his friends.

It was important she found him again. He was the key to a cure and she wasn't going to let him out of her grip without a fight. She also knew that she'd have to find him before Father Carl's goons did. They'd be out for blood.

That whole anti-christ spiel was bull. She hadn't known about that until the moment of operation. There was a loud bang in the trunk, a little whimper following. Victoria let out a shuddery cry. It hurt, god.

She needed to find Peter. She needed to find a cure.

They had gone out in groups that morning, after realising that the motel was close to a town. Tara, Mike, and Davy made a run for gas, as much as they could find. Isaac, Micky, and Davy went out after that for food and medical supplies.

Then finally, Heather, Peter, George, and Mike went to the shops to find as many warm clothes as they could. It was cold out and it was just going to get colder. By the time all of this was taken care of, it was around noon.

"Hey, Mike what's the deal with your hat?" Heather asked as the group began to get ready to head out.

"What hat?" Mike frowned.

"The green wooly one that you always wear dummy," Heather clarified, pointing at said hat that Mike was indeed wearing.

He brought his hand to his head and felt the hat. In a quick jerky movement, Mike took the hat from his head and handed it to Heather, who inspected it.

"It reminds me of home. My aunt Kate knitted it for me when I was about your age or something, maybe I was a bit younger, I'm not a hundred percent sure," Mike explained.

Heather handed the wool hat back to Mike, who placed it back atop his head.

"Where's home Mike?" Heather questioned.

"A real small town in Texas," Mike replied.

"Did you like your family? Do you know if they're still alive?" Heather wanted to know.

Mike glanced back towards the motel where Micky was finishing up gathering any spare things he could use for something. Davy was insisting he hurry up and George seemed to be trying to help Micky hurry.

"My dad wasn't the best. Mom died when I was eleven. But my aunt Kate was a real lady, whenever I could stay with her I would. I had a brother and a sister, though we didn't get along very much. They didn't have to deal with my dad," Mike said at length with a shrug, "I don't exactly know if they're still alive or infected or what. But I got hope that at least my aunt Kate's maybe still kicking. She was tough."

"Maybe after we see what's up with my family, we can go to Texas and see if your aunt Kate is around," Heather suggested.

"Aha, I don't think so. Texas is something of a drive and it ain't that important or nothing," Mike chuckled, ruffling Heather's hair, "Plus I've got my family right here."

"Heather did you put your toothbrush back into your pack?" Isaac interrupted suddenly.

"Yeah I did Isaac," Heather confirmed.

"We should get going. There's no doubt Father Carl will have sent out search parties for your immune friend," Tara announced.

"Micky c'mon we've gotta go," Davy barked.

Micky popped out of a room, a full plastic bag in his hand. It was filled with electric plugs and a few wires, a couple of random small hand tools, and a few other various items.

"Okay, okay I'm ready… jeez," he mumbled.

"Where'd you find all that?" George wondered.

"Laying around," shrugged Micky before hopping over the little railing that separated the outside walkway that the motel rooms were connected by to the parking lot.

"Tara, do you want to ride with me?" Mike asked.

"Sure," Tara nodded.

"I'll sit in the back," Davy announced before clambering into the backseat of the Monkeemobile.

Ronda followed suit, knowing there wouldn't be enough room in the second car. For a brief moment, she wondered if soon they would possibly need three cars.

"Micky, will you sit in the back with me and Peter?" Heather asked, tugging on Micky's hand.

"Sure babe, no problem," Micky grinned.

Peter was already in the back seat, talking about something with George who was in the driver's seat. Micky and Heather joined him in the back and Isaac settled in the passenger's side. Mike took the wheel of the Monkeemobile and Tara the passenger's side.

"Heather, you're sure you remember how to get to your aunt's residence?" Isaac questioned.

"I would never forget how to get there. My cousin and I were more like sister than anything else. Our moms were friends and we used to see each other all the time. Since we were both only children, we only ever had each other to play with," Heather assured him.

"What's your cousin's name?" Peter asked.

"Linda, but everyone calls her Lyn," answered Heather.

"Well you just let me know when to turn and stuff," George said and turned the keys in the ignition.

The car rumbled to life and soon they were off, George leading the way and Mike following as closely as safety allowed. He was determined not to have another split up indicent.

Although Julia had relieved Freddy of his shift near one in the morning, providing him plenty of time to get some sleep, when seven in the morning rolled around, Freddy gave up trying to fall into unconsciousness. There wasn't any sleep for him. He had been kept awake all night by what Dr. Rose and he had discussed earlier in the night.

Dr. Rose had been studying the virus as best as anyone could. She was holed up in a hospital near Toronto, Canada. Although she was slowly running out of generator fuel and supplies, she was still doing her best to study the virus.

But this information had gone untold to both Julia and Greg. They were Dr. Wilkins's assistants, but Freddy was Dr. Rose's. Before all of this had happened, Dr. Wilkins and Rose had been colleagues, friends almost. Freddy was running an errand for Dr. Rose when the virus outbreak occurred, and that was how he got stuck here.

Julia and Greg were decent enough people but Dr. Wilkins was always held in an unsavoury opinion with both Freddy and Dr. Rose. Her methods were extreme and on several occasions, Dr. Rose had reported her to some medical board for disregarding rules and safety precautions.

That was why Julia and Greg couldn't know about Dr. Rose's work. She was doing research by the book. Dr. Wilkins would do anything for a cure, even test the virus on healthy human test subjects. If Greg or Julia found out, they would both certainly tell Dr. Wilkins.

And Freddy didn't even want to think how Dr. Wilkins would react to the news. Freddy rolled out of bed, already dressed in the clothes he had worn yesterday, and shuffled out into the living area. The kitchen bled right into it.

Julia stood over the toaster, watching her bread toast. Their food would run out one day. They still had provisions for at least another month or two, but all three of them were realizing that soon they would need to venture outside for food. But, food was a taboo subject and the topic of running out was purposely left out of conversation.

"Good morning," Freddy greeted, slinking over to the kitchen area.

Julia turned around and her face lit up.

"Freddy! Guess what news Dr. Wilkins called in, after I took up the night shift?" Julia gushed.

"What did she call in?" Freddy frowned.

"Oh Freddy! She's found someone who is immune!" exclaimed Julia.

Immune? The phrase rattled Freddy. Someone who could not be infected by the virus. That was what immune meant. And Dr. Wilkins had found someone that was just like that.

"She found someone who is immune," Freddy repeated.

"Yes, isn't it great? She lost him, but she said she was going to find him again and then either come back here or find a working hospital or something so that she can start coming up with a cure or a vaccine," Julia nodded her head vigorously.

"That's wonderful!" Freddy agreed, suddenly bursting into a large grin.

Of course, it wasn't. That poor guy. Dr. Rose would need to find out about this right away.

It had been so long since Heather had even been near the state of Washington, let alone traveling familiar roads that would lead to her aunt Candy's home. It brought up old memories that Heather hadn't thought of in a very long time.

Yet despite this, Heather still was uneasy about doing this. For one thing, she had no idea what to expect when they got there. What if Candy and Linda, her aunt and cousin, were both infected? What if one of them was and the other wasn't?

These thoughts swirled around in Heather's mind, creating a sickening churn in her stomach. Peter and Micky seemed to sense the unease of their youngest member and so Micky started spouting jokes.

They were lame and dumb, but they brought a smile to both Heather and Peter's faces. In the car behind, Mike and Tara were getting to know each other, in their own tense sort of way. Ronda neglected to speak and Davy chimed in whenever he could.

As they drove, they passed empty towns, empty homes. There were infected that they passed, far off and distant yet clear in the bright light of day. Nearing five o'clock, they slowed down to a stop in the middle of the road.

Everyone got out to relieve bladders and eat. Although supper consisted of granola bars, a bag of stale potato chips, and bottles of water, it was nice to get out of the cars and stretch.

"So, how long to where your aunt lives Heather?" George asked as they stretched out their legs.

They had been traveling for nearly two days now. At first, it had taken Heather a while to remember something familiar and then be able to give directions. But she had managed and they had driven steadily since then, with few breaks.

"Not too long. If we keep going then I think that we'd be able to make it before dusk," Heather responded.

"Maybe we should stop for the night," Isaac suggested, "So that we can all be on our best alert."

"I don't know. I think we should push on. Get where we're going and get it done with," shrugged Micky.

"Either way, we should press on somewhere soon, it's too dangerous to be roaming about at night in cars," Davy pointed out.

They had encountered an increased amount of infected while driving at night. The area seemed to be teeming with them. Since the first night they had driven during the late hours, the group had by all means tried to solely drive when the sun was out.

"Are we going to take another vote on it?" Tara asked with some distaste.

"No I think it'd be best to keep going, get to the home, especially if we're able to get where we're goin' before desk," Michael responded.

"Alright then, we better get moving," Davy clapped his hands together, "There's no time to waste."

So they headed out again. The minutes crawled by and Peter fell asleep on Heather. Micky talked about older gigs, some of the dumb things he and his friends had gotten into, and the like.

In the Monkeemobile, things were quieter.

And so nearing dusk, which was around 5:00 in the evening, Heather suddenly pointed straight ahead.

"That house. Right there, that's my aunt's house," she exclaimed.

Her sudden movements woke Peter up, who looked around wildly as if something was about to attack him.

"Well, let's go see what's up," George said, mostly to himself.

"I'm scared," Heather admitted quietly.

Micky took ahold of Heather's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"We're all going to be right here with you. Everything will be okay, babe," Micky reassured her, flashing her a smile full of warmth.

"Yeah, Micky's right. There's no need to be scared," Peter nodded his head, smiling as well.

What had they been through? That was the thought that crossed George's mind upon seeing this scene in his back car. Micky, Davy, and Ronda had divulged some information to him and his sister, although they didn't necessarily know the whole story.

Then again, it wasn't like they knew the whole story about George and his sister. George eased into the driveway and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Mike did the same, pulling up behind George.

They all clambered out of their respective cars. Tara had two firearms on her, Ronda her baseball bat, Micky had picked up a pretty lethal kitchen knife which was now his weapon, Isaac had a tire iron, and Davy and George both had one firearm each. Mike had a hammer he had picked up back at the motel they had stayed the night at two days previous.

Peter refused to carry a weapon, claiming that since he held immunity, there was no need for him to be armed. Mike had it on his list to have it out with him later. And Heather didn't know how to use anything, although she had a small pocket knife.

"Alright, Ronda, Davy, Tara, and I will go scope out the house. Micky and Peter, check out the street, then Isaac, George, and Heather stay here, watch the cars," Mike instructed.

Peter and Micky nodded, disappearing down the driveway to see what they could see. The street seemed to be empty. Heather gripped Isaac's hand, while George made sure that he was ready to switch on his car at any moment.

Davy, Ronda, Tara, and Mike crept up to the house. The front door was closed but unlocked, so Ronda easily pushed it open. They split up, Davy and Tara heading upstairs while Ronda and Mike were combing the downstairs.

The shriek came suddenly, out of the blue. Mike had opened the door to the kitchen and suddenly a woman launched herself at him. He fended her off, stumbling backwards. The woman had pale skin, red ringed eyes, veins that stood out on her body.

Mike sidestepped another attempt, swinging the hammer he held. The infected pitched forward, the hammer getting caught on the rotting corpse. Swearing under his breath, Mike bolted over the kitchen counter, quickly surveying whether or not the kitchen had another weapon to offer him.

The infected shrieked loudly again, hurling itself towards Michael. Then Ronda appeared from a second doorway, metal bat quickly swinging backwards then forwards. The tip connected with the infected's head and it was tottered over.

Ronda swung again, and again, and then finally a fourth time. She grimaced at the mess before glancing up at Mike. He looked alright.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks Ronda," Mike replied.

"Mike! What happened?" Davy exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen, followed closely by Tara.

"Everything's okay, just got nearly jumped by an infected," Mike explained to him.

Davy glanced down and vomit rose in his throat. He quickly looked away.

"We'll have to clean up. We need to stay the night here," Tara began.

"This must have been Heather's aunt, Candy," Ronda interrupted.

"Christ, I hope not. But… we'll have to find out," Mike sighed.

He was dreading this moment. He had hoped that maybe something good would have come out of this. Just then the pantry door was flung wide open and a petite girl came barreling out of the cramped little room. She launched herself at Davy who, although surprised, quickly ducked, causing the girl to flip onto the floor.

She let out a grunt and leapt up but Ronda was able to grab her arms. The girl squirmed and kicked but Ronda held fast. As Mike and Davy tried to calm the girl down (she wasn't infected as far as they could tell), Peter and Heather entered the kitchen. Isaac, George, and Micky were still outside, in the front, keeping a lot out for any other infected that might be attracted by the sudden increase of noise.

"Lyn?" Heather gasped when she entered the room.

The girl Ronda was holding stopped dead in her tracks, going limp. She stared at Heather blankly before lighting up.

"Heather? Oh, oh god Heather I can't… I can't believe oh man, Heather!" Lyn blurted.

Ronda released her grip on Lyn and the girl burst forward, wrapping Heather up into a hug. Heather was only a little taller than Davy, and based on this Lyn was only a few inches shorter than the Englishman.

"It's so good to see you, I can't believe you're still alive!" the grin on Heather's face was priceless.

"Really? Why's that?" chuckled Lyn.

"Where's Aunt Candy?" Heather asked, not quite hearing Lyn's question.

"I think she was infected," Ronda piped up.

Heather's smile faltered. She looked at Lyn.

"Mom's fine, she's just taking a nap on the floor," Lyn said in response, gesturing to the horrific scene on the floor by the kitchen counter.

"No, I had no choice but to terminate your mother. She was not your mom, she was infected," Ronda corrected.

"Ha, ha, who are these people? They're pretty funny," Lyn smiled.

Heather's brows knitted into a frown.

"Lyn, I… Lyn I'm sorry but Aunt Candy's… she's right there, she's dead. I heard the screams, and they were those of an infected," Heather informed her cousin.

"She'll be okay now," Lyn mumbled.

Heather shot a pained look to Peter who in turn looked at Ronda and Mike.

"How about you and Lyn go into the living room with Peter and myself?" Davy suggested, "We can call in George and Isaac and Micky and let our friends here clean up a bit. Make us some food. We can eat and talk and all that good stuff."

"I am hungry," Lyn said, her smile returning.

Heather looked downcast, crushed. She was worried about her cousin's actions, the words she was using, they all just seemed so wrong and weird.

"Alright then," Peter chirped, giving Heather a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, "Let's go do that. It sounds like a groovy idea."

They retreated to the living room. The entire house smelled musty and as Isaac, Micky, and George entered the house, they kicked up dust. While they settled down in the living room, Tara and Ronda dragged Aunt Candy's body out to the backyard. Mike and Davy cleaned up a little and then investigated the pantry. There was so much food in there that Mike's stomach growled greedily at the sight of it all.

"Maybe we should stay here for winter," Davy commented, only half kidding.

"Grab those boxes of cereal, I'll get bowls if I can find them," Mike instructed.

Mike did indeed find enough bowls for everyone and then the unofficial clean up crew went into the living room where the others were sat in. Heather was sitting between Micky and Isaac, George sitting on the left of Isaac. Linda was sat on a wooden chair across from her cousin and Peter was standing in the corner.

Ronda took up a position in the corner across from Peter. Mike and Micky handed out the bowls of cereal before settling down on the remaining couch and Tara sat cross legged on the floor.

"Lyn, can you tell us what happened?" Isaac prompted after a moment of silence.

Linda looked up and then looked back down at the bowl of cereal in her lap.

"Mom and I holed up here, because what else would you need besides your home. We're waiting until things blow over. Mom didn't feel so good three months back, but we're going to Texas when she's well enough to drive so that the army men can make her better," Linda said slowly.

To say the least, it unnerved most of the gang the way Linda was referring to her mother. As if she were still alive and amongst them.

"Why Texas?" Mike inquired.

"That's where the radio keeps telling us to go," Linda answered, putting her bowl on the coffee table that was in between her wooden chair and the couch before getting up and disappearing for a minute.

She came back with a clunky black radio cradled in her arms. She sat back down and fiddled with the dials for a moment. Through the stale crackle of static came a wavering voice.

"Attention all survivors. This is a standard military issued announcement. Any survivors are urged to make their way to Jamesville, Texas. Here is hope, here is survival," a gruff male voice came straining through.

There was about twenty seconds of silence before the message repeated. Exactly the same as before. Micky's heart fell. He had been hopeful that maybe this was a broadcast, not an automated message stuck on the repeat. Davy wasn't surprised.

Linda switched off the radio and put it gently on the ground next to her chair. She picked her cereal bowl back up.

"Now that you all are here, we can get mom to Texas, to the army men. Then she can get better," Linda stated.

"Lyn… can I call you Lyn?" Isaac asked. Linda nodded her head.

"Alright Lyn, well, I'm Isaac, this is my friend Ronda," Isaac introduced himself, gesturing towards Ronda.

Isaac nodded his head slightly at Mike after speaking, indicating that he should introduce his half of their little family, although Mike's "half" compromised the large majority of their group.

"I'm Mike, that's Davy, Micky, and over there's Peter," said Mike.

"Hiya!" Micky chirped, although Davy shot him a disapproving look.

"Hello," said Linda, the corners of her mouth almost twitching into a small smile.

"And I'm Tara," Tara finished off, gesturing towards George, "And that's my brother, George."

"It's nice to meet you all," Linda greeted, "I'm Linda, but everyone calls me Lyn. My mom's name is Candy, so you can call her Candy."

"Your mother's dead Lyn," Heather snapped suddenly.

Lyn's face whitened, the colour quickly draining from her cheeks.

"She's just in the kitchen," Lyn said in response.

"No, Linda, your mom's dead. We both saw her on the floor. We both know she got infected. You've got to understand she got infected, right?" Heather said, her voice rising in volume and intensity.

"She's just sick, the army men will make her better," mumbled Linda.

"The army men probably are all dead too Lyn! Candy's dead and you need to accept that or else what good are you, living in a bloody dream world?" Heather shouted.

"Heather, stop it right now," Isaac barked sharply.

He had not used that tone of voice with her in months. It stopped Heather in her tracks. She looked at Lyn, who was shaking, the tears streaking down her cheeks silently. Everyone felt extremely awkward in this moment.

"Lyn, would you like to show me to your room? I'd love to see it," Peter piped up, finally breaking the awkward tension.

At the comment, Lyn's face broke out into a smile and she swiped away her tears.

"Oh yes, I would love to, mom probably wants me to show you where you all can sleep and stuff," said the young girl.

She stood up and Peter followed her up the stairs.

"Jeez, what's her deal?" Tara grumbled, finding it ridiculous the way the girl was acting.

No one made acknowledgement to Tara's comment, although George shot her a warning look.

"Heather, how old is your cousin?" Isaac asked.

"She's fifeteen," Heather answered, then after a pause, "Isaac, why is she acting like that? Is something wrong with her? Why does she keep talking like aunt Candy's still alive?"

"She's trying to deal with the quick escalation of events. She's been alone, as far as we've gathered, for about three months, probably cooped up in that pantry she had been hiding in when we first arrived," Isaac replied.

"We all deal with this sort of stuff differently," Micky added.

"Our group is extremely lucky considering everything," agreed Davy.

"Still don't mean she gotta have her head in the clouds," said Mike, "We need to talk with her about what's happened and help her understand her situation."

"We will, but we can't push her too far. She's mentally unstable," Isaac pointed out.

"Isaac, we don't have time to worry about," Ronda countered.

"Unless we stay here for the winter," Mike suggested.

"Stay here for the winter?" Tara echoed, as if it were the craziest idea she had ever heard in her life.

"There is quite a lot of food in the pantry of this kitchen," Davy mused.

"That's the case, and we haven't even scoped out the other surrounding houses," Micky added.

"You can't be serious, considering this," Tara grumbled, but George "shh"ed her before she could say anything else.

"If we stayed here the winter, then we could help Linda," said Mike.

"I don't want to stay here. I want to go home," whined Heather.

"We'll be home soon," Micky comforted her, although how relative the word soon was in usage here was questionable.