Voila, chapter 4! I hope you enjoy! Much comtinued thanks to VergOfTowels, my amazing beta! And thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! :)

November 4, 2013: Present Day, eighteen hours earlier

"Bloody hell," Eames gasped as he fired another round into the face of the oncoming woman. His apartment building was overrun with them—the zombies that the news had been blaring warnings about in six languages before the station had been lost to screams and static.

He'd just come back from a job, intending to lie low in his apartment in Pittsburgh, or, if that didn't work, to grab a few supplies and head somewhere safe. He had not expected to get pinned down in his room by fifteen crazies. It was only the handgun he kept on him at all times that had saved him from getting eaten on the way up to the arsenal in his room.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the girl he'd picked up in the second floor hallway. She was still gripping the third-grade soccer trophy she'd been using to beat the infected off of her. Its marble base was slick with blood.

"Pet, what's your name, then?" he asked her, trying to prevent the weight of the shock from crushing her. She'd been just sitting there for too long, staring at the puddle of blood forming on the floor.

She jumped, startled. "What? Oh, I'm Ariadne. Ariadne Spellman."

"That's a pretty name," he told her, grunting slightly as the zombies ran into the door again. "Now, can you help me barricade this? We need some time to plan before they break in and eat us."

It wasn't the most confidence-inducing speech he'd ever made, but she nodded and stood, walking to the bookcase and pushing it over to the door. He helped her get it into position.

When they were relatively safe, he wiped his gore-smeared hand on his pants (the situation had once called for pistol-whipping) and held it out to her. "My name's Eames."

"Nice to meet you," she said, and shook it. "I wish the circumstances were better, but the gesture is appreciated."

"So, what have you heard?" he questioned. "My radio cut out just as I entered the city. Has there been any news of more towns being quarantined?"

"Oh, yeah. A lot. I don't think the government is doing anything else about this whole thing. But they'll come and help us, right? I mean, they can't just leave us here, can they?"

Eames sighed and met her frightened eyes. "I'm not going to lie to you, Ariadne. I think they're probably going to start fire-bombing soon. I barely got out of Buenos Aires in time to avoid getting toasted there."

She buried her face in her hands.

"Now now," Eames said, rubbing her back. "It's not all that bad. We're alive, aren't we?"

After a minute, she raised her head and nodded. Her eyes were clear and filled with resolve. "We have to get out of here. If they're closing down big cities, I have to warn some of my friends."

"Speaking of that," Eames said. "You haven't any news about Charleston, have you? Charleston, South Carolina?" He hoped his tone wasn't too desperate. He didn't want to give anything away, even if she was only a harmless student. He didn't know her, and he couldn't afford to have weaknesses.

But she shook her head. "No, nothing. The last I heard was that they'd closed off LA. Then the station cut out." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you think there's still a world out there?"

She looked like she was desperately trying not to listen to the pounding on the door, the pleading to be let in, the Oh God, please help me from outside.

"Of course there is," Eames said. "The government will get all of this cleared up, and everything will go back to normal. You'll see."

He was rewarded with a grateful smile and hoped that he wouldn't be proved a liar.

"God," said Ariadne suddenly, heaving a large sigh. "This is like every bad zombie movie I've ever seen."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, pet, but my heart already belongs to another," Eames said, standing and removing a pistol from the trunk he'd brought into the room. He checked the magazine and replaced the cartridges with rubber bullets while Ariadne blinked owlishly at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Eames shot her a roguish grin over his shoulder, flipping the safety on and off a few times to make sure it slid quickly. This was one of his older models.

"Well, in every bad horror movie, the main girl ends up with the male lead. It's practically destiny. Except, of course, if they're related." He gave her a cheeky smile, and she smiled back. "However, I'm off the market."

"She's a lucky woman, then," Ariadne said, and Eames hid his grin by turning back to the gun. "Is she in Charleston? Is that why you asked?"

"Something like that," Eames said, smile dropping a little. He quickly covered the slip with, "Now, Ariadne, do you know how to shoot?"

Mutely, she shook her head. He held out the gun to her.

"Well, now's a good time to learn, right?"

-oooxooo-

November 4, 2013: Present Day, thirteen hours earlier

Click. Krzzt.

Click. Kzzzzzrtz.

"—ust in, the disease seems to be caused by the vaccine for dem—kzzrt—citizens are warned to stay in their houses—"

Click. Kxxzzt.

"'—death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?' But take heart in the Lord, my children. He will not desert those who truly believe. 'For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no—kzzrt—reward, and even the mem—kxxzrt—them is forgotten. Their love, their hate and their jealousy have long since vanished; never again will they have a part in—kzzrt—ing that happens under the sun… Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the grave, where you are going—kzzrt…kxxzrtz—neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisd—'"

Click. Kzzxxrt.

"—among those cities quarantined are Istanbul, San Fran—kzzrtx—Honolulu—"

Arthur turned up the volume. It was hard to make out the names of the cities over the static, but this was the best station he'd come across so far. He was just passing around Charlotte, North Carolina after driving for five hours, and he was still only about a third of the way there. There had been more obstacles then he had thought there would be.

His suit was ruined. The gray vest now had a layer of congealing brown soaked into it, and his pants and tie were equally splattered. He hadn't even stopped to think about what his shirt looked like.

He had taken a minute to wipe the blood off his face, though.

"—Rio de Janeiro, Mosc—kzzrtx—eijing, Los Angele—kzzrt…kzzxxrt…"

Arthur lost the station. His hands tightened on the wheel, and then he pulled out his phone, wondering how he could have been so stupid. He'd been so absorbed with getting to Ariadne that he'd forgotten to call the Cobbs. Arthur knew that Dom hadn't gotten the vaccine, he just hoped that his friends hadn't still been in the city when the quarantine was called.

Ring, ring, ring.

Ring, ring, ring.

Click.

"You've reached Dominic C—Hello?"

It took Arthur a second to recognize Cobb's voice. "Dom? It's Arthur. How are you? Where are you?"

"In LA," the thief answered, voice sounding hoarse. He sounded like he'd been—

"Oh, fucking hell," Arthur breathed. "How's Mal? The kids? Miles and Marie? Fuck, Cobb, talk to me. How is everyone?"

"Fine. They're at the house, with the doors and windows blocked." Cobb was starting to sound better, more focused.

"Then what's wrong? Cobb, please. I need you to tell me."

"I—I locked her in the pantry, Arthur. She was screaming earlier, but she's quiet now. She—God, she came at the kids. I should have noticed earlier, but I—" Cobb broke off with what sounded like a sob.

Arthur slammed on the brakes, stopping in the middle of the road. He closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat, feeling the tears burning behind his eyelids. "Oh hell. Mal got the vaccine, didn't she? Fuck, Dom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Now that he was listening for it, Arthur could just make out the rhythmic pounding in the background. 'It must be Mal, beating on the door,' Arthur thought. He tried not to picture her, half-crazed, eyes glassed over, skin much too pale. Tried not to think of her…eating. Eating Dom, or James, or Phillipa. Oh God.

"I couldn't do it, Arthur. I had the gun in my waistband when she came at them with the knife, but I—I just couldn't. She didn't hurt them, but what if she had? What if I'd lost them?" He sounded almost on the edge of hysteria, and Arthur didn't blame him.

"What about Miles and Marie, Dom? Did they get it?" He heard Cobb take a shuddering breath, and allowed himself a moment to panic. Miles and Marie had to be all right—

"They're fine. Miles wasn't at risk for Alzheimer's and Marie said she'd sooner go senile than let them inject her with 'all those chemicals'. She said she'd get a later version, once it had been out for a while. But Mal—" Cobb hesitated again, his words faltering.

"Dom, you need to be strong now. I know it's hard. God, I know you miss her. But you have to be strong for your family. You need to get them out of LA. I don't think quarantine is the government's permanent solution. You need to get out of there."

Cobb breathed in slowly, and then exhaled. "You're right, as always, Arthur. We're going to try to leave tonight. I'll call you when we get out."

"Wait," Arthur said, catching Cobb before he hung up and hating himself for what he was going to say next. "Have you heard anything from Eames?"

There was a long moment of silence from Cobb.

"No, Arthur, I haven't. I'm sorry."

"It's nothing, really. Just thought I'd ask," Arthur said, trying to keep the raw panic out of his voice. Anything could have happened to Eames, that bastard. He never was careful enough or took good enough care of himself. He was probably half-eaten in a ditch somewhere and—

Firmly, Arthur forced those thoughts out of his mind. Eames was fine, because if he wasn't, Arthur was going to kill him. "Dom," he said, keeping his voice steady. "One more thing."

"Yeah, Arthur?"

"Um, I—well." He took a breath. "Don't kill her. You don't have to. She can't come after you while she's in the pantry, and you never know. There might be a cure."

"Yeah, you're right. You're right, Arthur." Cobb sighed. "Where are you? Or where are you headed?"

"Right now I'm on my way to Pittsburgh. I have a friend there who might need my help."

"I wish you the best of luck," Cobb said. "I'll try to keep in contact. Until the cell towers stop working, that is."

"Thanks for that cheery thought," Arthur said. "Good luck to you, too. Stay safe."

"You, too."

Click.

-oooxooo-

November 4, 2013: Present Day, three hours earlier

"Okay," said Ariadne. "We know that the sickness comes from the vaccine, and that when people are bitten by the…fuck, the zombies, they come back from the dead a lot faster than it took for just the vaccine to turn the original ones. I mean, we're talking like, ten minutes, max. And the only way to kill them is to do extensive damage to their brains."

"Pretty much, yeah," Eames agreed. "I'd say that they've developed a highly concentrated solution of the vaccine in their saliva. That's what brings their bitten victims to life again, and allows them to heal." He shook his head and thought of what he'd seen from the window—the blood, the guts, the people screaming as they were torn apart by blank-faced attackers—while he and Ariadne had been trying to take it all in. "But the bite victims go crazy, not just emotionless."

"Maybe they remember being eaten," Ariadne said, a tone of wondering, horrified pity in her voice.

"Maybe," Eames agreed, sadly.

The zombies seemed to have lost interest in their door, but there was never any such thing as being too careful. He set his third cleaned handgun down on the coffee table. "God, you know, if Ar—" He shook his head. "If a friend of mine were here, then he'd know everything there was to know about this whole mess."

Ariadne smiled. "Yeah, I know someone like that, too. He always had to have his nose in everyone else's business." Her smiled dropped a little. "Do you have a cell phone? I left mine at school. I—I want to make sure he's all right."

"Sure." Eames tossed her his cell. He had tried to call Arthur many times already, but he must have changed his phone number, because it was no longer in service. He must have.

After a few minutes, Ariadne handed the phone back, face grim. "No answer. What if he's—"

"I'm sure, whoever he is, that he's fine," Eames said with a reassuring smile, and Ariadne returned it after a second or two.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sure he's okay."

-ooo-

Arthur stopped to get gas in Fairmont, North Carolina. In usual driving time, he was about two hours from Pittsburgh, but he figured it would actually probably be three, maybe closer to four hours before he got there.

The gas station's fluorescent lights were still on, burning into the darkness of the twilight with a cheerfulness that seemed too out-of-place to Arthur after the day he'd had. It looked to be vacant inside, but Arthur wasn't taking any chances as he went in to flip the switch to start the gas pumps. He holstered his Glock and rechecked the ammo in his Beretta, and then got out of the car.

The town around him was quiet, and he tried not to wonder what had happened to the 2700+ residents. How many had gotten the vaccine? How many had gotten…eaten? He forced himself not to dwell on that as he pushed the glass door open with his back and swung his gun in a wide arc to cover the inside of the store.

He felt his stomach clench when he saw what was inside.

Lying sprawled on the floor were ten people, pools of blood congealing slowly around them. Arthur was immediately on alert. If the blood was still congealing, then these people had died less than ten minutes ago. And that meant he wasn't alone.

He quickly ran through his options in his head.

First, he should destroy the heads of the people on the floor and get rid of any possibility of an attack from there. However, any gunshot might alert the thing that had bitten them. If there were ten people killed here, it was highly likely that there would be more than one zombie roaming around. Frustrated, Arthur kept his eyes mostly on the dead, but his gaze kept flickering toward the small aisles of the store.

Finally, Arthur decided he'd risk it. Better to be rid of the enemy he knew about than to worry about the one that he couldn't affect now. And besides, he thought he'd seen one of the bodies twitch.

He fired two shots into the heads of each person and slid the empty magazine out of his gun. The honest-to-God roar from behind the counter caught him off guard, and he slipped a little while slotting the next set of bullets into the gun, dropping the magazine onto the floor.

He didn't have time to pick it up, so instead he just let the gun fall to the floor as well, retreating down an aisle as he pulled out his Glock. He fired, but missed as the zombie vaulted over the counter. His face was dripping blood, and Arthur supposed there must be a cashier behind there. He cursed himself for not checking. The zombie looked to be an athlete—a runner, maybe. He was fast.

But Arthur was fast, too.

The athlete charged Arthur, but got caught in the shoulder by Arthur's next shot. Unfazed, he paused and grinned, and Arthur could see the strips of skin caught in his teeth. Arthur took another few steps back to get a better firing angle, but never got to pull the trigger because another zombie chose that moment to come barreling across the store at his back.

His only warning before the infected woman's teeth would have ripped into his flesh was the light tap of her step as she jumped.

Arthur swore and managed to side-step the brunt of her attack, but her shoulder caught his, knocking him dangerously off-balance. He didn't even know where she'd come from, since he was sure there hadn't been anyone in the aisles. The bathroom, then? He didn't have much time to think about it, because both zombies were about to come at him in a matter of seconds.

He took aim and hit the man right in the forehead, dropping him, but he missed the woman when she jerked suddenly to the side in anticipation of his shot. He noted the police uniform and cursed again as he was forced to run. Turning more fully into the aisle, Arthur sprinted for the back of the store. He quickly gunned down the infected child that was eating a middle-aged woman by the fire exit, and then fired into the skull of her unfortunate victim.

He could hear the pound of the infected policewoman's footsteps as they came down the aisle, and he pivoted to train his gun on her. He wasn't expecting her to throw the soda into his eyes, so he was unprepared when it happened. As he flinched back from the burning, she easily twisted the gun from his hand. It was harder for her to get her teeth into his neck.

Fighting past the pain in his eyes and the slight fuzziness of his vision, Arthur managed to pull back before she could bite him. When he saw the fire axe in a case by the door, he didn't hesitate.

He managed to turn away from her and didn't hesitate. The glass shattered as he slammed into it with his elbow, and he whipped out the axe, heedless of the shards. A quick pivot on his left foot and—

The axe removed the infected woman's head from her shoulders in one rough, gory hack. Arthur made sure to keep his eyes and mouth closed as her blood sprayed onto his face, wary of any contact with infected bodily fluids.

He brought his sleeve up and wiped enough of the blood from his face to see, and then he went and retrieved his Glock from the floor. He slid into the bathroom, cleared it, and then washed the rest of the gore from his face and hands. When he was finished, he stood up and regarded his stained suit with disgust.

He exited the bathroom and went to the counter, flipping the pump control as he passed by on his way to the door. He brought the axe with him—it had proved to be a good close-combat weapon, and he needed more of those.

Picking up his abandoned gun and bullets on the way. Arthur returned to his car and filled up the tank. His senses were on high alert, determined that he would get caught off-guard again. Luckily, nothing else leaped out at him before the car was done fueling and he got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

He had to get to Pittsburgh.

-oooxooo-

November 4, 2013: Present Day, half an hour earlier

"We need to get out of here."

Ariadne looked up from the couch to where Eames was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. They had showered and changed clothes, with Ariadne borrowing one of Eames's old T-shirts from college that had shrunk enough in the wash toalmost fit her. Almost.

"Out of here? But aren't there hordes of zombies out there?" She fidgeted and tugged at the end of the shirt. "Aren't we safer inside?"

"Until they break down the door, or we run out of food," Eames said. "No, we're much safer on the road. I have a feeling there will be fewer zombies on the highway." He shot her a smile and ceased his pacing. "I have a little hideout in Sewickley Heights, about half an hour from here. Small town, probably few infected. There's food there, and it's pretty defendable."

"…I see," Ariadne said. "And, what is it that you do, again? The guns, the hideouts…are you a spy or something?"

"Lord no, Ariadne," Eames replied with a grin. "I'm a criminal. Now, shall we pack?"

No, they haven't met up yet. Soon, though! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you next week!