October 21st, 2012

When I woke it was mid morning, and the grey light of another snowy day was streaming through the window of the living room. I sat up slowly, wincing as my tired, achy body protested. Sleeping on the carpet covered hardwood floor had perhaps not been the smartest idea.

Glancing at Joe I saw that he was flushed, but sleeping. I had to assume that it was a good sign that he was resting, Caroline had said he needed rest. I stood and tiptoed out to the kitchen to hunt down some food, my stomach growling loudly.

I rooted through the pantry until I found some granola bars and dried fruit, snatching up some jerky too.

"You need to mark down how much you're taking of which food. We have to keep track."

I spun around and found a tall woman behind me, giving me a stern look. I smiled hesitantly, "Right, sorry. It's just been like a week since I had more than one meal a day. But I'll mark it down."

The woman nodded and handed me a clipboard, watching as I wrote down my name, which food I had taken and how much. I gave her another smile as I handed it back, sighing when she simply took the clipboard and walked away.

"Good job Becca, making friends wherever you go" I muttered softly. Shaking my head at the woman's surly demeanor, I walked back to the living room and sat back down on the floor by Joe.

I ripped into the jerkey, sipping on water as I munched on the granola bar, sighing in satisfaction. It felt amazing to eat.

"Want to…share…some of that?"

I spun around at the sound of Joe's weak voice, my heart pounding. His face was pale as he struggled to sit up and I quickly knelt by him, forcing him to lay back.

"Lay still! You shouldn't move."

Joe shook his head weakly, smiling at me, "Yes ma'am." He eyed my water and I quickly lifted the cup to his lips, helping him drink. His skin felt fiery under my hand I frowned, deeply worried.

"Are you hungry?" I asked softly.

He nodded faintly and I offered him some dried fruit. He chewed some slowly, alternating bites with sips of water. His color slowly improved, but his skin still stayed hot. Joe smiled faintly at me.

"You look worried kid."

I smiled, trying not to look scared for my friend. I shook my head, "Just wondering when you're going to get off your ass" I joked lightly.

Joe chuckled softly and broke out into a coughing fit, wincing and reaching for his wound. I stared at him, hopeless and worried. I had no idea what to do, and Caroline wasn't back yet. When his coughing fit had abated I made him drink more water, hoping it would soothe his throat.

Joe's eyes slid shut again, his breathing wheezy. I ran my hand over his bald head, wincing at how hot he felt. I began to hum a soft lullaby, stroking his brow, watching as he fell back to sleep.

A noise behind me startled me into turning. The woman from the kitchen was standing in the doorway, watching us. I frowned at her and stood, standing over Joe protectively, instinctively.

She lifted a hand, "I just wanted to check on him. He looks worse" she whispered.

I hesitated and then nodded. He did seem worse. "When will Caroline be back?" I whispered back, walking over.

She shrugged, "I thought they would be back this morning, but it's hard to tell. They could have run into other people or the place they went could have been picked clean." She glanced at Joe over my shoulder and then back to me, "We should take his temperature and see where he is."

She walked to the kitchen and came back a moment later with an old fashion thermometer. She smiled faintly as she handed it to me, "No electricity, so it works." I nodded and took it into Joe, opening his mouth gently and sliding it under his tongue.

A few minutes later I pulled it out and read it. 104°. "Shit." I looked at the other woman and shook my head, "That's bad, like boil your brain bad, right?" I asked.

She frowned, "I think if it's 105 we should put him in the tub with some snow. He's really close. We need to try and get him to drink water and we can put cold cloths on him." She sighed, "Let's get to work."

I nodded and quickly pulled on my boots and coat. The woman—whose name was Marissa, as I soon found out—and I quickly went about gathering snow into bowls for soaking rags in to wrap Joe in.

As Marissa set rags to soak in the snow, I began to undress Joe slowly. Pulling his layers off was hard enough, but given his size and weight advantage on me, it was even harder.

"Here, let me help."

I nodded and Marissa leaned in, pulling Joe up into a sitting position so we could pull his shirt off, leaving him bare-chested. I gasped at the sight of his wound. It was now a fiery red with nasty red-purple shoots emanating under his skin.

Marissa and I exchanged a worried look before moving to wrap the freezing rags around him. As the icy material hit his skin Joe's eyes fluttered and he groaned, waking.

"Wha-…shit…"

I nodded, "I know. It sucks, but we have to get your fever down Joe. Okay?" I grabbed his chin as he twisted and turned, trying to get his gaze. Our eyes met and I smiled, "Hey, trust me. It's okay."

Joe groaned but nodded.

As the rags warmed through the day Marissa or I would change them, one of us holding Joe's hand, encouraging him to be strong. We took turns taking his temperature, desperate for it to lower.

As the sun lowered in the sky and evening approached, Caroline and the group still hadn't returned. Joe's temperature was hovering at 102°, and he was resting fitfully, his brow furrowed as he slept.

Marissa tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a mug of tea, smiling softly at me. I nodded my thanks and sipped it, savoring the heat. The house wasn't freezing, but it wasn't toasty. The fireplace could only put out so much heat against snowy, freezing conditions.

"I'm not sure he's getting any better" I whispered, swallowing hard.

Marissa shook her head, "I don't know, I don't have any medical training." She glanced over at me and sighed, "But I think you're right. He seems weaker."

I nodded, frightened and tired. The other people living on the farm had filtered through the room through the day, offering help, but there was little to do. Marissa laid a hand on my shoulder and I looked over at her.

"You should go get some rest. I'll stay up with him for awhile."

I started to protest but stopped when she shook her head, pushing me gently. "Go catch some sleep in my bed. If Kyle is there, tell him to leave you alone and come see me."

I nodded and plodded upstairs, carrying my tea with me. A man was in the room, kicking off his boots and hanging up his jacket. I hesitated at the door, "Uhm, Kyle?" I asked softly.

He turned and nodded, smiling at me. I smiled tiredly back. "Marissa said to go downstairs. She's taking watch on Joe and told me to come sleep here. I-I'm sorry, I can go somewhere else."

Kyle laughed and shook his head, "Don't worry kid, neither of us would hear the end of it if I didn't listen. Get some rest." He grabbed a book and patted my shoulder on his way past, smiling at me.

I nodded and edged into the room, shutting the door behind me. It had been weeks since I had slept in a real bed. I kicked off my boots and lay down, pulling the blanket up over me. I was sick with worry over Joe, but exhaustion, fear and the stress of the day all caught up with me quickly.

Before I knew it my eyes grew heavy….

Thunder. Rumbling. Loud voices.

I struggled to wake, trying to determine what the noise actually was. Rubbing my face I sat up and heard feet pounding on the floor below and then up the stairs. Loud voices were calling out.

"Get snow!"

"Hurry!"

My pulsed kicked up and I was out of the bed before I realized it, running out into the hallway. Marissa and Kyle were carrying Joe between them, up the stairs. My stomach dropped.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"His temperature spiked to 105.5°" Marissa panted.

"We're getting him to the tub so we can dump snow on him" Kyle explained.

"Where's Caroline?" I demanded.

Marissa shook her head, "Downstairs. She got hurt during the supply run. She's right behind us though."

I stepped aside as they made their way into the bathroom, lowering Joe into the snow that had already been dumped in. Men and women came running up the steps, carrying buckets of snow that they dumped unceremoniously on him.

Marissa and Kyle spread it over his body, leaving his neck clear. I watched as Joe began to shiver and groan his eyes half open.

Caroline brushed past me, carrying a satchel filled with medicine. She knelt beside Joe and I saw a large bandage on her left calf and another on her right forearm. She quickly took Joe's temperature as she listened to his heartbeat, her fingers resting on his pulse.

When she was done she leaned back, her eyes closing.

My heart sank.

She looked defeated.

Her eyes opened and she looked up at me, sorrow in her gaze.

I shook my head, stepping back, not willing to hear the words.

"He's not going to make it Becca. I'm so sorry." Her eyes filled with tears and I shook my head, anger rippling through me.

"No. You're wrong. He's strong. Give him medicine."

Caroline shook her head, "He's advanced into septic shock. There's nothing I can do at this point. His organs are shutting down. He's dying." Tears streamed down her face and I clenched my hands into fists, wanting to hit her.

"Where the hell were you?!" I shouted. I stepped forward and pointed to Joe, "You could have saved him! It's your fault!" My voice and grown to a scream and I felt tears slipping down my face.

Caroline shook her head, "We were attacked by a large group. We barely made it back Becca. I'm sorry!"

My hand lifted to slap her and she flinched. I curled my fingers into a fist and took a deep breath, sinking down onto the side of the tub, staring down at Joe.

"Give him something so he's not in pain." My voice was raw and low, scary.

Caroline swallowed and nodded, "I have morphine. We can give him some and he can pass in peace."

I nodded and glanced at her, my face like stone. "Do it."

She nodded and fumbled in her bag, pulling out a vial of morphine and a syringe. I lifted Joe's arm out of the tub and rested it on the snow, watching as she carefully injected him. His breathing slowed after a few minutes and the lines of pain on his face eased.

My stomach unclenched and I stroked his cheek gently. "I'm sorry Joe. I should have done better. I should have gotten you better. I failed you." I shook my head, "Thank you for saving my ass. Thank you for being my friend, and a better father than my own dad."

Caroline laid a hand on my shoulder and I turned my chin slightly, "What?" I murmured.

"The next dose will be it. I'd like to let the others know so they can say goodbye as well."

I nodded and sat, holding his hand. The others came from within the house, shock and sorrow plain on their faces as they knelt, whispering goodbye to our leader and friend. When the last person had said their goodbye, they gathered at the door and watched as Caroline administered the morphine.

We held vigil together, each of us breathing quietly, softly, until there was one less breath in the room. Joe's hand went limp in mine and his lips loosened from their pained grimace into something softer, more at peace.

I bowed my head and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "See you around soldier" I murmured.

I stood and walked stiffly out of the room and down the stairs, my feet carrying me out of the house, through the snow and into the barn. I walked over to one of the empty horse stalls and stood, staring at the wooden walls.

Nothing.

I had nothing now.

These people meant nothing to me.

They were not my family.

The only person that was even close to being my family was in Atlanta.

Emotions swirled inside me like a rising tide until it nearly choked me. I lashed out, punching the wall of the stall, gasping at the sensation.

Pain.

I hit the wall again…and again…and again.

I slumped to the floor and clenched my bloodied hand, closing my eyes.

I wasn't staying here.

November 1st, 2012

I walked through the ruins of the once nice neighborhood where Hannah and her family lived. Many of the houses looked like they had been looted, and some had been set on fire. There was a scent of rotting flesh in the air, and more than once I passed a dead body laying in a yard.

My hopes of finding my friend alive were quickly becoming slimmer.

When I turned onto her street and saw her house was now a smoldering pile of rubble…hope vanished like smoke on the wind.

I wandered forward like a zombie, unable to look away from the wreckage. I stepped through the ruined front door and looked around, desperate for any sign of survival. Picking through the unsteady wreckage, I covered my nose, coughing.

White bone charred black in places…fingers clutching another body.

I stared in disbelief at the sight.

Three corpses, holding each other.

I crouched down and stared closely at them, trying to figure out if it was Hannah and her parents. The necklace around the neck of one of them made me sick…it was the same one I had given Hannah for her birthday last year. The metal had fused to bone in the heat of the fire.

I turned away, clenching my fist, feeling the bruised bone strain, letting the pain chase away tears. I hissed between my teeth. People had done this to each other.

I stood and straightened my jacket, staring down at the corpse of my best friend. I had to move on, find somewhere new. I turned and walked carefully through the house, leaving behind the smoldering tomb.

My only real option now was to go north, to DC.

If anyone could help me, it was my father, Randall Flynn.

November 8th, 2012

Goddamn people.

I shook my head as I cleaned the wound on my leg once again, making sure it wasn't infected. Three days earlier I had been looking for supplies in abandoned houses on my way out of Atlanta and a group of five men and women had decided to attack me, thinking I would simply give up my pack.

Unfortunately for them I had fought back, shooting three of them and stabbing another before one of the men punched me so hard it slammed me into a wall and nearly knocked me out. We had struggled for my pack and he had slashed my leg with his knife.

I was goddamn lucky he hadn't hit an artery.

Twelve stitches didn't feel lucky, but it was, and I knew it.

Sitting on my ass for days while it healed enough to walk or run on it, that certainly didn't feel lucky.

I had found shelter outside Greenville, holing up in an abandoned golf course. There was some edible food left, bottled water, and plenty of alcohol.

I sipped from a bottle of vodka and winced at the burn. Standing, I tested my leg, walking the length of the room, limping slightly. There was no way I would be able to run if I had to. Shaking my head I sank back down onto my chair and swigged more vodka.

Might as well pass the time enjoyably if I couldn't get on the road like I wanted.

Rain pounded down on the roof, streaming down the windows and dripped off the eaves of the patio. I sat on the patio with my bottle of vodka, watching the rain, keeping an eye out on the road.

It wouldn't be the craziest thing for people to be out in this weather. People had been out in the snowstorm and had killed Joe. I didn't have anyone watching my back, only the ability to barricade doors to keep people out.

Eventually though, instinct told me that someone was going to find this place. It was surprising that more people hadn't taken refuge here, at least temporarily. There was plenty of bottled drinks, and food that was canned and dried.

After another half an hour of circling the property, keeping guard, I went back inside, chilled. I heated a pan of pasta and canned green beans up over a sterno, inhaling the scent of real food eagerly.

When the food was gone I pulled out a deck of cards I had found and began to play solitaire, passing the time slowly.

THUD

"Come on man, just kick it open!"

I sat up straight and looked down the hallway to the other entrance where I could hear voices. The doors rattled against the chains I had looped through the handles.

"I can't! Someone chained em shut!"

"Shit, okay. Let's try the other doors."

I could hear their footsteps on the patio, walking slowly around, trying the other doors. I had left myself just two points of exit, and they would soon be blocking one. I quickly, and quietly, began gathering my things, stuffing my pack until it was full.

I slid my jacket on and flipped the hood up, drawing my pack up onto my shoulders.

"Hey! This door is open!"

SHIT

I had only moments until they were in the building. I walked quickly to the other door and eased it open, sliding outside and onto the patio. I kept the 9mm of Joe's in my hand, backing down the stairs, before turning and walking quickly away, making for the trees.

My breath came in pants as I jogged to the tree line, my leg aching. As the sparse leaves enveloped me I breathed a sigh of relief. Shoving my gun into my waistband, I turned east and made for the roadway.

I lay huddled inside the tent I had taken with me when I left the farm, soaked and freezing. I couldn't make a fire, all the wood was wet. Instead I had stripped out of my wet clothing and pulled on dry pants and a sweater, crawling into the sleeping bag, trying to get warm.

I had bandaged my leg, frustrated that some of the stitches had popped after my strenuous afternoon. It still didn't look infected, but it hurt worse now than before. Taking ibuprofen would help with both pain and reducing any potential fever, but I didn't have a lot left.

I ran a hand over my face, frustrated and tired. The golf course had been the perfect place to recuperate. Now I was stuck in the goddamn woods.

I had to find somewhere new.

November 9th, 2012

I limped slowly through the woods as it rained, shivering. I was cold, aching and miserable. The road couldn't have been more than a few miles…but I barely had the strength to keep moving.

"You gotta keep moving kid. You'll die from exposure or infection if you don't." Joe's voice was as clear as day, pushing me forward. I nodded, "Okay Joe." Some part of me knew it wasn't real, that it was just in my head, wanting to hear him, but I kept going.

When I stumbled out onto the road a few miles later I grinned. I walked slowly, painfully down the road towards town. By the time I got there I could feel something warm on my leg. Looking down I groaned; my stitches had popped again and my wound was bleeding.

I swayed and shambled down the street to a small house, knocking on the door. When no one answered I tried the handle, pushing the door open. I shut it behind me and locked the deadbolt, shuffling to the living room.

Dropping my pack to the floor I sank down on the couch, groaning. My eyes begged to close, to sleep, but I refused, needing to dress my wound first. Rolling up my pant leg, I hissed as the material scraped against raw skin.

I wiped away the blood and wiped the wound with iodine, steeling myself to stitch it again. By the time I had finished I was light headed, queasy and shaking. I wrapped a bandage around it and collapsed back against the pillows, breathing heavily.

Everything went dark.

November 11th, 2012

I woke on the couch, head and leg throbbing. I sat up slowly, rubbing at my eyes. Looking around, it took a moment for me to orient myself. The events of the other day came rushing back and I grimaced, leaning forward to examine my stitches.

Lifting the bandage I sighed in relief, they looked good. I didn't feel feverish; by some miracle I didn't have an infection. I grabbed my pack and rooted through until I found a bottle of water, gulping it down.

The pounding in my head receded slightly and I lay back, closing my eyes again. For now, I needed to rest.

November 13th, 2012

I limped slowly to the front door of the house I was taking refuge in, carrying a small load of supplies I had managed to scrounge from other homes and the store in town. It wasn't much, but it would let me stay here for a few more days while my leg healed.

I had found an expired bottle of antibiotics in one house and taken them as well. If I started to feel feverish, I would have something that might work.

Setting the supplies down I paused and snacked on some dried fruit, sipping on a sports drink from a vending machine. The weather had cleared for the past two days, giving me the ability to get outside for short walks and examine the area.

It seemed like people had stayed here for a long time, but then had decided to leave en masse. Every house was empty, with very few supplies left. It wasn't a large town, but if people had stayed, they might have had a chance.

I had seen yards with room for gardens, and what appeared to be a well used community center. It was mystifying why people had left. I couldn't complain though, it left me with plenty of room and supplies.

Sitting down on the floor I began to sort through the supplies, determining what would be eaten while I was here, and what would be taken with me on the road. When I had finished I dumped out my pack and started mending my clothes that were torn or ripped.

The end of civilization was goddamn boring.

November 16th, 2012

I readjusted my pack, walking slowly down the road. I had left town this morning and was in the middle of nowhere, following the road. I was beginning to suspect I would need to pull out my map and reorient myself soon.

Not that I was sure which road I was on.

Sighing, I continued walking, hoping I would see a sign soon.

By early afternoon I still hadn't seen anything more than mile markers.

I sighed and walked to the side of the road, sitting on the barrier as I swung my pack off and set it between my legs. Pulling my map out I flipped through until I found South Carolina and hunted until I found the town I had been in, searching for roads in and out.

My finger finally rested on a road and I sighed. Instead of going northeast towards DC I had somehow ended up heading northwest. I had been walking in the wrong direction for almost six hours.

"Shit."

A scream pierced the warmer than usual afternoon and I sat up, looking around wildly. More screams filled the air and I shoved the map into my pack, slinging it onto my back.

It sounded like a woman. My heart raced as I tried to figure out where the screams were coming from. I heard men shouting behind me and I turned, vaulting over the barrier and jogged through the forest.

Moments later I came upon a trashed campsite. Two large men were wrestling with a woman, slapping her and laughing at her protests. Blood ran from multiple wounds on her face and her shirt had been ripped from her, leaving her half naked and exposed.

My blood ran cold with fury and I drew my gun, raising it at one of the men, who still hadn't noticed me.

"Let her go."

My voice was loud, firm.

One of the men turned in surprise and stared at me. I pointed with my gun to the woman, "Let her go."

He raised his hands slowly, "Alright now, there's no need to get upset." His partner had ceased beating the woman and now had an arm around her throat, using her as a shield. "Why don't you just be on your way missy."

Rage made my vision blur for a moment. "I really don't think that's going to happen. I'm not going to ask again." I leveled my gun and stared coolly at them, my anger pulsing with my heartbeat.

The man smiled nastily, "I don't think you'll use that. You're just another weak bitch."

I sighed and shook my head, "Why is it that people think its okay to call me names?" I gripped the gun tighter and pulled the trigger, twice in quick succession. Both bullets pounded into the man's chest, sending him reeling backwards.

He stared at me in shock as he dropped to his knees, blood flowing from the wounds. His partner yelped and fumbled for his own gun, pointing it at the woman. "Don't even think about coming near us!" he demanded.

I frowned. I was a good enough shot at close distance and aiming at center mass, but head shots were beyond my skill. The man gave me a nasty grin and began to back away.

Out of nowhere two men came crashing through the woods, appearing beside him, flanking him. The man edged away, trying to escape, but the taller of the men lifted a gun, glaring at him.

"I really wouldn't move unless you want a bullet in your brain."

The man nodded and stood still, continuing to hold his gun to the woman's head.

The tall dark haired man pointed over his shoulder, "That was you and your buddy a few miles back, huh? That other campsite?"

I frowned, I hadn't seen another campsite.

The man hesitated and then nodded, "We were just trying to get supplies, dumb bitch fought back."

The dark haired man's face grew stormy. He pointed his gun more firmly at the man and his jaw ticked. His friend grabbed his arm, "Miles, what are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes wide.

Miles looked to his friend, "Bass, is this what this world is now? Is this what people are allowed to be now? There's no one else to stop them." He turned from his friend and in an instant two shots fired.

"Shit Miles! I think he shot her!"

I could hear one of the men, Bass, shouting. I ran forward to where the man and woman had both dropped and sank to my knees beside them. The woman had a bullet wound in her neck and was bleeding rapidly.

Her eyes rolled wildly, her breath coming in wet gasps. I reached out and took her hand, hushing her. Her eyes met mine and a wounded animal noise came from her chest, tears leaking out of her eyes.

"Shh, it's okay. I know it hurts. It'll be over soon." My chest ached with anger and sorrow. Her eyes grew cloudy as her breathing slowed and when it stopped her fingers went limp in mine. I stayed by her side for a moment, closing her eyes and murmuring a soft goodbye.

I stood and faced the two men, my gun still in my hand. I stared at them warily. The taller one, Miles, stared down at the dead woman, his gaze fractured and sorrowful. The other man, Bass, stared at me curiously.

"Who are you?" I asked softly.

Miles looked up at me, his gaze registering surprise for a moment. "Miles Matheson. Marine out of Parris Island." He glanced over to his friend who nodded at him and then at me.

"Sebastian Monroe, also a Marine from Parris Island." His startling blue eyes swept over me and I had the briefest sensation that I was being assessed.

"Marines…does that mean that the government is finally sending you guys out to help people?" I asked skeptically.

Miles shook his head, "We left to go find our family in Chicago. There hasn't been word from DC in weeks."

I nodded, "I was heading there myself. My father works for the DOD, and I was hoping I could find him." Only as a last resort, I reminded myself.

Miles stared at me for a moment and then turned to Sebastian, raising a brow. "We could find out exactly what's going on. If anyone knows, it'll be them."

Sebastian frowned, "Yea buddy, but they could also shoot us for going AWOL."

I sighed and slid my gun into my waistband. These guys weren't a threat to me. They just sucked at decision making.

"Hey idiots. They won't shoot you for going AWOL. It's a national crisis, and I'm sure most of the bases are having the same issue. They can't report you to anyone, because there is no power. And besides that, my dad knows enough people that we can keep you guys safe." I waved a hand towards the roadway a few hundred feet away, "Can we go now?" I asked impatiently.

Both men stared at me for a moment before nodding. I smiled brightly, "Great. Let's get a move on."

Making my way back to the road, I heard the men talking softly, but couldn't catch their words. No doubt they were questioning the brilliance of travelling with me. Couldn't say I blamed them. I was pretty sure we would all be up, watching each other when night fell.

I watched the woman leading us up the road and wondered not for the first time if we were making a huge mistake. Miles was cautious enough for the both of us, but there was something about her that worried me.

Something about the way she had been with the dying woman…she had seemed natural, like it was something she had seen regularly. Who was as young as her and had seen death like that?

I snorted softly, soldiers, like Miles and me.

I nudged Mile's arm and pointed to her, "I'm going to go talk to her" I murmured. Miles sighed and shook his head at me, but waved a hand.

I walked quickly to catch up with her and fell in stride with her quickly. She glanced over at me, her dark brown hair falling out of her braid and into her face. Her eyes were green, flecked with hazel-gold spots, and they were sharp when they ran over me, assessing me.

"What?" she murmured.

I grinned, "Just wanted to get to know the person who's leading us. I didn't catch your name earlier."

She brushed her hair back behind her ear and nodded, "That's because I didn't tell you. Rebecca Flynn. But people mostly call me Becca." She glanced over at me and smirked softly, "Sebastian is a mouthful. You got a nickname?" she asked.

I nodded, "Bass. But you can call me whatever you want." I winced the moment the words were out of my mouth. They couldn't have sounded more like a pick up line unless we were in a bar and I had offered her a drink.

To my surprise Becca laughed and grinned, "Alright then. Bass it is." She shook her head and we walked in silence for a few minutes until she glanced over at me, frowning softly. "Can I ask you something?"

I nodded.

"Were you…were you in Afghanistan?" she asked softly.

I stared down the road and remembered the sound of IED's exploding, men dying, and the smell of blood. I glanced over at her and nodded, "Why?" I hated when people had a morbid curiosity they wanted satisfied. It wasn't my job to tell them what war was like.

It was hell.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach and glanced away, her voice tiny when she spoke. "My brother died there. I-I didn't know what it was like. None of his buddies came back, they're still there I guess."

Her voice hitched and her fingers tightened on her jacket, her nails white from gripping so hard. "I just want to know if he died alone…if someone was there for him."

My stomach sank at her words. I had no way of knowing what had happened to her brother. I sighed and stared at the road ahead as we continued to walk.

"I don't know Becca. I do know that every man has field training so that if a buddy goes down they can dress a wound. I can tell you that if he was hurt, he was most likely with his friends. If he died in a med bay on base, he was surrounded by people who fought like hell to keep him alive."

I watched her shoulders tighten and she nodded.

We walked in silence for awhile until she glanced over and smiled faintly, "Thank you."

I nodded, "You're welcome."

I dropped back after a few minutes and gave her space, taking the time to think. She couldn't have been older than 21, and yet here she was, walking across the country to find her father. Which led to the question—why hadn't her father tried to find her?

I frowned and knew instinctively there was more to Becca Flynn's story.

AN: Becca has finally run into Miles and Bass! From here we'll jump forward in time more and more, with occasional flashbacks as necessary! I hope you enjoy the story! I would love to get some reviews or even PM's with your thoughts! Thank you for reading!