Lestrade, Sally, and Molly did not move. They stood still, staring at the man at their feet. Their minds raced along different paths. Sally wondered how a simple food-foraging mission could turn into something out of a science-fiction novel. Lestrade pondered how long they had before the monsters decided to come out and explore the destruction. Molly glanced at the sky briefly, curious if this was an alien who had fallen out of his saucer. Despite the differences in thinking, their attention remained on the man.

The man lay in a loose fetal position with his back towards them. His attire offered them clues, but no solid information. He wore what was once a suit. The jacket was relatively intact save for a conga line of burn holes on the back. The trousers did not fare as well. Everything below mid-thigh was frayed and shredded into fine white tangles of fiber. Whatever shoes he had worn were now gone. His bare feet were completely dirty. The trio waited to see if he would move. None of them were keen on approaching him. It was not so much out of fear as it was out of confusion. Given their world, they were not sure if he was human, monster or something else. They kept a silent watch over him for a few moments. The silence was broken when Sally spoke.

"What do we do?" she whispered. "We have to get the food and water back and there's no telling what the hell we're going to encounter."

"She's right," said Molly, "but we can't just leave him here."

"We have to if he's already dead," replied Sally. "There are the monsters to think about, dear"

"I know that," snapped Molly, "but there are the Rules-"

"Sir," said Sally, ignoring Molly and looking at Lestrade, "what do you think?"

Lestrade pondered over what to do. Both women were right. The food and water needed to go back to their sanctuary. The monsters were the biggest threat as they would be appearing when they realized it was safe to venture out of their shelters. On the other hand, the Rules that now governed human life had to be applied. Lestrade knew he would never forgive himself if he left a fellow human being to be consumed by the monsters. He knew Sally and Molly would feel the same.

"We apply the Rules," said Lestrade firmly. He looked at the women. "You know them: if he's alive and a monster, we kill him; if he's dead, we torch him, and if he's human and alive, we protect him."

Sally and Molly looked at each and nodded in agreement. With that, the trio lay their sacks on the ground and moved towards the man. They knelt and gently moved the man onto his back. When he was lain flat, they took additional note of his appearance. The shirt he wore beneath his jacket was dirtied by black stains. This was odd as the ash beneath him was the same as the ash in the rest of the crater. His face presented a major problem. Sweaty black grime covered his face and head in thick layers. Lestrade tried to wipe away the grime with his hand, but found that it simply smeared. They could tell he was indeed male, but the grime made it impossible to discern his age or anything else. He had no major lacerations or wounds that would cause them trouble. Overall, he was an unconscious man in a ruined suit lying in the middle of a crater.

Lestrade removed his coat and rolled it up into a tight bundle. He gently raised the man's head, placed the coat underneath, and lay the man's head back down. Sally knelt at the man's feet, her hands gripping the man's ankles. She kept her grip light, but strong. Molly, as the only one with medical training, had removed her gauntlets and was busy checking for the man's pulse. Her comrades kept silent, allowing her to listen for a sign of life in peace. She needed all the quiet she could get as she could not find the man's pulse at either of his wrists. She lay her head on his chest and listened for his heartbeat. When she heard nothing, she placed two fingers on his neck. Lestrade and Sally knew she got something when she raised her head off the man's chest and loomed over his face.

"He's alive," confirmed Molly after a few minutes. She put on her gauntlets. "I have a pulse, but it's weak."

"Well, that answers one question," said Sally. "How do we check his humanity?"

"No need to worry," said Molly. "I put one of the vials with the solution in your left thigh pocket. Can you hand it to me?"

Sally reached for the pocket in question, unzipped it, and felt around inside until her fingers brushed against warm glass. She gently pulled out what appeared to be an empty rectangular bottle of nail polish. The thin button on the bottom of the bottle told her what it really was. She handed it to Molly, who pressed the button.

The vial was one of millions that had been produced by a pharmaceutical company in the U.S. just weeks after the plague had decimated half of the U.S. population. Researchers, using blood samples from infected and normal individuals, discovered that a combination of chemicals could discern who was infected and who was not. If the chemicals were applied to an normal blood sample, the blood turned clear. When applied to infected blood, the chemicals turned it a dirty urine hue. The company began producing the chemical solution rapidly. Another researcher developed a special container the size of a nail polish bottle to contain the solution. The bottle had a built-in button that released a small needle (residing the neck) that would withdraw a small sample of blood. A strong tiny light, also built into the bottle, would come on automatically to allow the person to see what color the blood turned into. The company sent the recipe for the solution to its counterparts all over the world. Unfortunately, it was far too late for some countries.

Molly was one of the few humans who had a steady supply of the vials at her disposal in all of Europe. Profiteers she encountered were jealous over her supply. The vials fetched them a hefty price on the black market. Neither Lestrade or Sally asked where she got them. What was important to them was her having them. It proved useful in previous situations. Using the vial on the man was no different. Molly had inserted the needle into the man's wrist. The little light turned on as blood dripped into the bottle and mixed with the solution. Lestrade and Sally breathed a sigh of relief when Molly announced, "It's clear. He's human."

"Well, that's good," said Sally as she removed her hands from the man's ankles. "Now what do we do? How are we going to move him?"

"We'll have to carry him," said Lestrade as he rose to his feet. He gently removed his coat from under the man's head and put it on. "Me and you will carry him and Molly, you'll have to manage the sacks."

Molly cast a pained look at the sacks, but offered no complaints.

"And how are we going to carry him?" asked Sally as she rose to her feet.

Lestrade analyzed the size of the man before answering. "We'll have to carry him pallbearer-style. One gets the head and the other gets the legs. What do you want?"

"I'll take the legs," sighed Sally.

Molly got up and began hoisting the sacks onto her shoulders. The weight made her shoulders and back whine in agony. It took a little while for Lestrade and Sally to situate their cargo onto their shoulders. The man had to be shifted onto his side in order to be carried. Sally clasped her arm firmly around the man's legs. Lestrade knew he would be sore later as he had to place the man on his armpit. The man's head lolled to the side and his arm bumped against Lestrade's back. When they were ready, they carefully tread out of the crater. Once they were on the street, they threaded their way through the jagged hunks. Sally, as the one more familiar with the area, guided the way. They had to stop frequently to readjust their loads and let Molly, huffing under the weight of the sacks, catch up.

In their haste to leave, they neglected one thing. The vial was still in the crater. Molly had lain it aside when she began loading the sacks onto her shoulders. Neither Lestrade or Sally noticed the vial. Under normal circumstances, the vial would have been taken with them. It was too dangerous to leave anything with blood lying around. A monster would be able to use it to track down fresh prey. Alas, the trio broke this vital Rule. The events of the night had driven this important Rule out of their minds. They were already too far down the street to go back. None of them remembered as they found a large street and turned onto it. The vial lay in the ash, but not for long.

One of the monsters gingerly crept into the crater and crouched down. In his former life, he had once been a subordinate of Lestrade's. He once prided himself on his abilities to the point of arrogance. That arrogance, combined with his sleazy manners and skulking demeanor, made the skin of everyone he met crawl in disgust. Women refused to work with him alone as he made salacious advances. Men had no patience for him as he treated them like stupid babies. He had no social life to speak of, devoting his time to banging drunk, desperate women and his extensive porn collection. As far as monsters went, the plague made him an excellent killing machine. He may have been useless in his pre-plague job, but Anderson was flawless as a monster.

The plague had been kind to Anderson. He was one of the rare creatures who still retained much of his human physique. Anderson could still walk upright. He had a habit of sneaking into abandoned clothing stores to rummage through the dwindling stock of clothing. On this night, he wore his shredded black trousers and a white dinner jacket that had become pink from being splattered with blood too many times. They were loose on his body. He was lean for a monster, but he blamed this on running after fleeing humans too much. His skin was paler than it had been before his infection. Anderson, like the majority of his kind, lurked in the shadows and came out only at night. Only the monsters with high levels of the plague could venture out in the day.

For the humanity still visible, there were telltale signs of what Anderson now was. His shifty eyes had grown larger. This allowed him to see in the dark better. His lips and chin were a berry-black hue and covered with a thin film of dried internal fluids. The hands were the ultimate giveaway. It was the same for Anderson as it was for 95% of the world's monsters. The plague forced the bones of fingers to fuse together and contort the fingers into a claw-like pose. The bones would then rip through the fingertips and continue lengthening until the human was fully infected. The new monster would find they had ten talons that could tear into anything from human flesh to steel. Unfortunately, movement became limited. The fingers could no longer be straightened or move in any way save in a gripping or tearing fashion.

Anderson squatted on his haunches and buried his talons in the ash. It was surprisingly cool and airy to the touch. It was a mellow sensation that pleased him. Like a child at a beach, Anderson amused himself with the ash. He made little patterns with his talons, awkwardly shifted together little mounds, and even attempted to make a little castle. Such was his amusement that it took his nose awhile to notice the scents. Unlike most monsters, Anderson's sense of smell of pathetic. His nose cost him many a meal. It finally proved useful as it relayed to his infected brain not one, but four smells. Anderson lifted his head, inhaling the aromas deeply. A chuckle escaped him when he recognized their owners.

He recognized Lestrade's scent immediately. There was no mistaking Lestrade. Beneath the veneer of sweat and grime was a haze of weariness only attributable to Lestrade. Sally's scent was the strongest. Only in death would Anderson be unable to recognize the smell of his former lover. Hers was a mix of excitement, sweat and the barest hint of vanilla. All this was hidden beneath an atmosphere of blood. Sally had slaughtered so many monsters in her time that their blood had become part of her natural scent.

Molly's was the most confusing. It was the unmistakable aroma of clinical sterility, soap, and gunpowder. Anderson shook his head. Molly's scent reflected her time in the morgue. The soap portion hinted that she was lucky enough to bathe on a frequent basis. The gunpowder was the confusing aspect. Sally was the psychotic butcher who carried weapons. Molly was simply the medical person. Anderson shook his head and turned to the fourth and final scent. He raised his head high and inhaled deeply. He froze and then inhaled again.

And again.

And one more time until he had to exhale. His heart pounded in shock.

Impossible…

Anderson dropped to all fours, sniffing the ash. This scent he recognized quite well. How he did not notice it sooner stunned him. He shuffled forward, nose to the ash, his brain taking in all the data they could. This scent was similar to Molly's, but belonged to a male. Unlike the scents of Lestrade, Sally, Molly, and every human he had encountered, this scent was wrong for two reasons. It was a miasma of things that no longer existed in the diseased world. Good, clean things that roused dim memories of his human past. This, though, was not important when he remembered one important fact. The owner of the fourth scent had been dead for five years.

Anderson shuffled forward, sniffing the ash eagerly. He paid no attention to where he was going. He did not notice he was heading right for the center of the crater. The scent of the fourth human grew stronger as he neared the center. It was when he lifted his head that his eyes fell on the forgotten vial. He froze, staring at the little object with narrowed eyes. Even now, he recognized the little vial that all monsters despised. He stared at the vial for a moment, deciding what to do. He finally reached out a hand and used his talons to scoop the vial towards him. When it was close, he leaned forward and sniffed.

Lestrade and Sally halted when a high-pitched whoop of joy broke the silence. They had been traveling down the large street they entered earlier. They marveled in silence over the fact the remains of the buildings on this street were still intact. They had expected the force of whatever had fallen to make the crater (only Molly entertained the notion that the man fell out of the sky) would have destroyed a wider area. It became apparent that the force preceding and following the object had destroyed only the immediate area. As they slowly trudged away from the crater, they had noticed that the buildings further away from the crater suffered damage, but were relatively intact. When they found the large street and turned onto it, they were shocked to see the buildings were untouched. Slightly heartened by the sight, the three continued moving.

The going was faster, but still slow. Lestrade and Sally often had to readjust their unconscious cargo. Lestrade's shoulder howled at the dead weight it carried. Sally had to clamp down with both hands on the man's legs to keep them from falling. Hard as they had it, Molly was the one who struggled the most. The weight of the sacks was causing her to fall further behind her comrades with each tiresome step. She had temporary relief whenever they stopped. They paid no heed to her when they continued. She watched their backs grow smaller as they moved further ahead. They did not notice her until they stopped.

"What the bloody hell was that?" demanded Sally. She cocked to the side, listening.

"Damned if I know," huffed Lestrade. "Let's just keep going. Still got the food, Molly?" When there was no answer, Lestrade looked over his free shoulder. "Molly!"

"Molly!" called Sally, worry evident.

"Coming," came the weary response.

Lestrade and Sally craned their necks painfully to see their poor friend tottering towards them. She looked as though she would fall over at any moment. Lestrade and Sally exchanged a look and carefully lowered the man off their shoulders and onto the ground. They then rushed forward to help Molly.

"Oh, bless you both," Molly wheezed as they removed the sacks from her shoulders. She dropped to her knees, breathing heavily. "I need a break."

"You could have said something," said Sally sharply. "We would have stopped."

"Not for long, though," replied Molly. She looked at Lestrade. "You heard that thing earlier, right?"

"We did," he replied, "and we need to keep moving, but can't if you're going to fall behind."

"Well, what do we do?" asked Sally as she helped Molly to her feet.

They looked at the man and at the sacks. Both were a priority. The food and water would sustain them if doled out carefully. The man was human and, according to the Rules, had to be helped. They knew they would feel guilty if they left the man behind. There was the option of leaving him behind, but Sally and Molly knew Lestrade would never agree to it. After a few moments of silence, an idea came to Molly. She knew her comrades would not like it, but it was the only viable solution in her mind.

"You two take the food and water. I'll stay with our guest."

Lestrade and Sally rounded on her. She raised a hand to silence their angry protests. "I know what you're going to say, but just listen. I'm the only one who has medical training. I can try to help him if he wakes up. If I do die, you two will have more food and water."

"Absolutely not," snarled Lestrade. "I am not going to leave you here to die."

Molly looked at him. "Would you rather we all die if we're too slowed down? You two are faster than me and stronger. If there is trouble, than you two can defend yourselves."

"Molly-" began Sally.

Molly's eyes narrowed. Placing her fists on her hips, she demanded, "What would rather lose: the food and water or the man?"

Lestrade and Sally exchanged a long glance, visually arguing over their decision. They finally made their choice. They began slinging the sacks onto their shoulders. Once the last had been slung on Sally's shoulder, the two began walking away. Molly made for the man until she felt strong fingers grip her chin and tilt her head up. She found Lestrade looking at her.

"I expect to survive," he whispered firmly.

Molly gave a small smile. "I'll try, sir."

Lestrade released her and continued moving with Sally. Molly watched as her comrades begin running as best as they could down the street. The sacks bounced soundly against them. She watched until they became small specks in the darkness. Once they were completely out of her sight, she looked down at the man. He was still unconscious.

"I really wish you would wake up," she told him as she knelt by him. "That way, I wouldn't have to figure out how I'm going to move you."

Anderson peeked out from behind the door of one building. He stifled his whimpers of joy at the sight of the unconscious feast that awaited him. When he smelled the vial, he let out a shriek of joy when he smelt blood. Fresh, uninfected blood. A thing so rare as most humans suffered from some ailment that soured their blood. Anderson leapt up and sniffed the air wildly. Once he got a lock on the aroma of this fresh blood, he leapt out of the crater and hopped through the mangled street. It took him little time to find the street the humans had turned onto to. Yet he did not charge after them. He dove into the first building he found and proceeded to follow them through the skeletons of the buildings. He barely registered the hushed clicks of the monsters who resided in some of them.

When he heard their voices, Anderson stopped. Looking around, he found himself inside the cluttered husk of a stone building. Office furniture of various sizes had been piled into a mound by someone. Anderson briefly wondered if this was the nest for a monster, but pushed the thought aside. There was fresh prey to be killed. Looking around, he found no windows, but a door. He moved towards it. It was a simple wooden door that still clung to hinges. He gave it a tentative poke. It swung open silently. Chuckling he stepped out and hid behind it. He slowly peeked out.

He could see Lestrade and Sally picking up heavy sacks and slinging them onto their shoulders. Molly watched them take each one until there was none left. They began moving away and Molly turned her attention. He snorted when he saw Lestrade stop, turn back to Molly, and reach out and seize her chin. They exchanged something he could not hear briefly. Lestrade let go of Molly and began walking away. Anticipation flared within Anderson, but he forced it down. Though he was an excellent killing machine, he was not stupid enough to take on his former boss and lover. Sally reached new levels of craziness when battling monsters. Lestrade did not have her lunacy, but was still a ruthless fighter.

Molly, on the other hand…

Anderson watched with her as Lestrade and Sally became tiny specks in the distance. When they finally disappeared, they turned their attention to the man. Anderson licked his lips. Hunger flared in his belly as he studied Molly and her unconscious charge. It pushed into every crevice of body to the point Anderson could no longer control himself. With an excited chortle, he stepped out of the building and charged to where Molly and the man lay. The rapid patter of his feet alerted Molly to the danger. She looked up just in time to see Anderson barreling right into her.

Thank you to the reviewers and all readers. I'd also like to express my apologies for three things. One is this chapter. I'm sorry for the weirdness and for anything that confuses anyone. Second is the review thing. A reviewer was kind enough to let me know (thank you for that). Third is updating. Just so you know, I'm not a speedy updater. I'll try to have ch. 3 up as soon as I can, but, fair warning, you may have a bit of a wait.