"I—I didn't mean to try to keep it from you guys or put you in danger, I just didn't think it was that deep and he seemed fine, you know? I tried to get some medicine but the old people stole it and then everything's been happening so fast I—"

Tears poured down Isabelle's face as she faced Jace and Clary, still clutching a weak Max to her chest. It was less of a comforting gesture, Clary figured, as it was a protective stance. She wanted to make sure they wouldn't try to kill the ten year old. The ten year old who was infected. The young boy who had come into her tent and asked her to tell him a story. There was no way out of this, they all knew. There was no roof to escape from, no pipe to climb down, or a sewer to travel through. This was a fate they couldn't find a way out of. It was just a matter of time.

The four were settled around a campfire about three miles away from the sewer drop off. It had been an unspoken agreement to not speak about what they now knew or what they knew they would have to talk about on the way there. They had been silent, first focusing on putting distance between them and the herd they had narrowly escaped from. But now, the silence was over. They had to face the reality weighing down upon them.

This had been what she had wanted to avoid all along. After seeing so many hurt and killed, she couldn't handle being around people and growing to care for those she would just lose anyways. So, she had been alone. That had worked for a while. Life was hard, but it was simple. A constant routine. Scavenge for food, locate water, stay alive. It had been lonely, and often her thoughts would grow painful when forced to fill in the ever constant silence, but she had endured. She had survived, just as she promised she would. It was all that she had known how to do.

And then, everything changed. It had been as fast as a blink, but it had happened all the same. She was no longer alone. While she may have told herself she was just staying for a little while, and then maybe just a little longer after that, she knew she had grown attached. She had begun to care.

The pain was so much worse than she remembered.

"How long ago did it happen?"

Izzy blinked, dark eyes more water than pupil. Her arms tightened around the sweating form of her little brother. "Three days ago."

Three days. It had taken Jonathan five. It had taken others less. It was different for everyone how quickly the sickness spread, but they all ended up the same. They would all end up the same. Clary blinked, looking to Jace and Isabelle as the two argued. How long would it be before they were in Max's position? How long did any of them have left?

"What do you want to do?"

Both pairs of eyes turned to her. She had been silent up until now, shaken both from the shock of seeing her brother and seeing history repeat itself before her eyes. It hurt to speak. She had never felt that before. A physical pain that was ripped from her lungs and left to bleed, drop by drop.

"What—"

"I couldn't kill my brother. He was there, at the dumpster, with someone else's organs dripping from his mouth. Someone that would still be alive if I could have killed him when he told me to. I don't know how many he's killed because of me, or how many those he's killed have killed and so on. But even knowing that, I couldn't do it. I still can't kill him. So I can't stand here and tell you to kill him, because I know what it's like. It's your choice. But, you have to be able to live with it."

Max's breathing grew sharper as Isabelle let out a choked sob. She ripped her gaze from Clary back to her brother, who looked so much like her. Jace, who had been the one doing the majority of the yelling, now stilled. She couldn't bring herself to look at his face and see the way he must be looking at her—weak, pathetic—so she stared stonily ahead at Isabelle and Max.

"He's ten," Isabelle whispered finally, barely audible. "This—this shouldn't be happening. He doesn't deserve this! None of us do! Day in, day out, all we do is fight and bleed and heal so that we can fight and bleed the next day and then the day after that! What is it all for? What are we even living for?"

She paused for breath, swiping away furious tears. Clary had begun to step closer, but stopped by the return of the black haired girl's scathing words.

"This entire time we were searching for our lost brother. That's how Max got bitten. And now, we find out that the one who was supposed to take care of us is a traitor who left us for dead. But—it doesn't change anything. Max is still going to—"

She choked, looking down at the boy again.

"We have to." Like Clary, the words looked like they physically hurt Isabelle. "I can't lose my brother. But, I can't let him become one of those things."

The air surrounding the trio was filled with a static silence. Just like that, it had been decided.

"I'm so sorry Isabelle," Jace whispered hoarsely.

She didn't look up. Instead, she lifted his cracked glasses from his face, clutching them to her chest like a lifeline. "He deserves better," she murmured darkly. "He deserves a better death."


Hours later, they had settled around the campfire. After Max had woken up, terrified and sobbing while trapped inbetween hallucinations and reality, it had been decided the three would tell the boy stories of their lives from before. "I like stories," he had said. "You always know when they end."

She had told him about when Simon and Jonathan had first met and Simon had been so afraid that he had literally wet his pants. In retrospect, this had not done anything to improve Jonathan's opinion of Simon. Isabelle had told him of how, after he had been born, her and Alec had plotted to get rid of him in an effort to remain the favorites but the second they saw him, they loved him. At the mention of Alec, Max had squeezed Isabelle's hand gently. Clary bit her lip. She didn't know if their brother had survived the massacre on the mall. It had all been for his boyfriend, who was being held as a bargaining chip by Valentine. Would he still have left his siblings if he had known what would befall his brother hours later?

Thinking of Alec reminded her of the promise he had forced her to make. "Please, just…please take care of them. Let them know that I'll come back for them when I can." A sorry job she had done so far. Not that there was anything that could be done in the first place. Max had been a lost cause before she had even met him, yet that didn't mean it hurt any less.

Jace shifted next to her, his knee brushing against her own. She blinked, looking to the boy who had been rather quiet thus far. "After my dad died, I joined a settlement that my uncle and his military squadron had put together when they had gotten word about the apocalypse. It had been good for a while. It was easy. There were about a hundred of us who worked for the community: farming, medical care, hunting for food, patroling the perimeter for survivors or groaners, etc. We didn't know what it was like outside the wall that fortified our camp. We didn't realize how bad it had gotten until about six months after the apocalypse began. Until Jocelyn."

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably at the change in topic. It had been somewhat of an unspoken rule thus far to tell stories of their befores. A time when things were happier to set Max at ease in his last moments. Of course, leave it to Jace to disregard the rules in their entirety. Max, however, looked to Jace with interest.

"Who's Jocelyn?" His throat sounded like it had been clawed to shreds by a bear. The three pretended not to notice.

"She's—she was—my aunt. Valentine's wife."

A hush descended upon the group. All eyes were upon Jace as realization sunk in. Valentine—the man he hated and feared, the man he had been running from, the man who had forced them into committing a massacre—was Jace's uncle. He shifted uncomfortably, guiltily, under their collective gazes before nodding softly. Suddenly, Clary understood why he had broken their rules. He felt responsible. Once more, he bore the weight of Valentine's actions as his own. As if he were the cause of the massacre they had been forced to commit and their subsequent near death by the herd. As if he were responsible for Clary being captured by Valentine.

And so, she said the only thing she could. "It's okay."

Jace turned to her, his knee bumping against her own. He smiled, small and real and for her. She smiled back. Somehow, three words had been enough. Though he still looked shaken, he turned back to Max. His knee stayed pressed against her own. Clary didn't know who it comforted the most. "She was always kind to me. Valentine used to be too. My father had died and he had found me, just before my own father was about to kill me with him. He saved me and took me in as if I were his own son. And, despite what was going on outside, despite having lost my father and my friends, it didn't feel as if I had lost too much because I still had them. It was a democracy at first, but then people started getting more scared. Someone had to step up, so Valentine was elected. We would try to help people we found on the outside at first, but then the apocalypse kept going. First we started turning people away, then choices had to be made within the camp and it progressed from there. 'Everything I am doing is for my family,' he had said. But it wasn't. It was for himself. We were just an excuse," Jace looked up from his fiddling hands directly and looked pointedly at Isabelle and Max. "That—that wasn't family. Not really. The love you two have for each other beat the apocalypse. You could have let it change you and harden you, twisting your love into yet another form of survival, but you didn't. You stayed human until the end."

Max smiled back at Jace, his weak form beaming with pride. That was what he needed. To be assured that his death wouldn't be because he was too weak for the apocalypse, but that he, a small ten year old boy, hadn't failed. Isabelle had streaks of silent tears trailing down her face, but she looked to Jace gratefully. Clary felt her throat tighten at the sight. It became clear to her now what she had to do, before it was too late.

"You should know, that love goes for Alec too." Isabelle's gaze snapped to her, a warning clear in her eyes. Clary swallowed. "He made me promise to tell you that he never wanted to be on Valentine's side. His boyfriend is being threatened by Valentine and the only way to protect him was to do what he said. He never meant to betray you two. He—"

Clary paused, letting out a breath.

"He was good. And, I think he made it out of the mall."

It was hard to tell what Isabelle was thinking throughout the silence. She was lost in thought, tears now streaking down her face more slowly. The silence was finally broken by a barely audible voice mumbling, "I told you so." Isabelle chuckled, smiling down at the small boy through her tears as she stroked his hair.

"Yeah, you did," she whispered. "You always were the smartest little kid."

He smiled back at her, though he was quickly fading into sleep. Isabelle mouthed a 'thank you' to Clary. She let out a sigh of relief. The three descended into a comfortable silence, simply staring at the flames twisting in front of them. How could something so beautiful be so destructive, Clary often wondered, though she already knew the answer. Burning bright organic matter that came from the earth and was capable of destruction, but always burned itself out eventually, no matter how big the flames. People were the same.

Clary thought of Max. He was just a flickering candle. One whose glow was bright enough to lend light to those around, but had been so easy to snuff out. Isabelle's hands were weaving their way through his hair, but for how much longer? She found herself wishing he would just turn already so they could get it over with. It was sick and revolting, she knew, but the waiting was the worst part. She found herself grateful for the first time that she had been able to deny what had been happening to Jonathan. It had been easier to pretend than it was to now know exactly what was happening and be able to do absolutely nothing. The fire was still burning but all she felt was cold.

The only warmth she felt was the spot where her and Jace's knees were still pressed together. It was so simple, even unintentional, but she was surprised at how it managed to comfort her even the slightest. She nudged him with her knee. He looked up immediately, his eyes meeting her own. There was still so much she didn't know about him. Especially after their run in at the mall. It was almost strange to remember how angry she had been with him just hours beforehand, when all she had wanted was answers and she had thought they would all survive the day. Her anger had fizzled out in light of everything. Yet, that didn't mean her curiosity had died with it. His story earlier had been a way of trying to make up for the secrets, she knew, but she wanted to know more.

"Who's Kaelie?" Her voice was a quiet murmur, but she knew Jace had heard every word by the way he stiffened. "In the mall, Valentine said I reminded him of her. Who is…or was she?"

The apocalypse hadn't just destroyed the majority of the world's population. With it, it took basic grammar rules. There was never a way to be certain what was the past and what was the present. Grammar nazis would be having an aneurism if they weren't too busy tearing people's guts out as members of the eternal undead. Jace cleared his throat, long eyelashes dropping to brush against his cheekbones.

"Is…was…I don't even know for sure anymore." The thought seemed to physically bother him. As if he had done something wrong. "It's better to think of her as the past though, because what I knew of her is gone whether or not she's alive."

Isabelle was listening in now too. Jace let out a breath. "After Jocelyn died, Valentine became obsessed. He wanted to create a stronger race, one made of survivors who could thrive in the new world. The apocalypse wasn't showing any signs of being over anytime soon so he decided if the human race was going to survive, they needed to evolve. Darwin would approve, I suppose. He was able to convince others of his ideas, twisting them for his I found out what he was really doing: to create a race strong enough to survive the apocalypse, he was mixing their blood with the blood of lame brains."

Clary felt like she was going to be sick. For so long, the zombies had represented everything she could hate. To survive had been all she had ever known for a long time. Yet, never would she stoop to so low trying to survive that she would be willing to put that evil inside of her.

"Oh my god," Isabelle murmured. Clary was pretty sure God had nothing to do with it. If there was a God at all, she knew there certainly wasn't one now. What God would allow a ten year old child to die in this hellscape?

"Kaelie was strong and beautiful. She had been the daughter of one of my uncle's military friends. We had known each other all of our lives, but it wasn't until we were spending every day together in the sanctuary that I began to love her," Jace fixed his gaze firmly on the fire. Her knee lightly tapped against his, a silent form of letting him know it would be okay. He continued.

"She was a military brat, used to following orders. Valentine used this against her and made her his experiment. She became twisted and turned into something that couldn't be considered human."

He looked up from the fire to Clary. "That's why I knew I couldn't let you walk out of my life, even though you stole from me. I saw her in you. Brash, stubborn, fierce. Real."

She swallowed, her brow furrowing. "Do you…think I would do that?"

He shook his head fiercely. "Not a chance. Kaelie…she wanted to be special and approved of, no matter who around her got hurt. You may not admit it, even to yourself, but you care about people, Clary."

She smiled softly back at him, almost forgetting the reality of the world around them. Her smile faded once she heard the familiar sound of groaning. Both Clary and Jace turned to Max, whose snowy complexion had taken on a new greenish pallor as he began to stir within the arms of a sobbing Isabelle.

"Isabelle, get away from him. You don't need to be here for this." Jace had stood up, prepared to escort her away from the campsite but she shook her head firmly.

"I should be the one to…I have to do this." Her voice came out as nothing but a whisper, but Clary still felt chills run down her spine at the steel in her voice. No longer did she see the girl who tried to use a plastic hairbrush against a zombie. In her place was the girl who had struck the base of her heel through it's skull. Clary didn't know how to feel about the change that she knew was permanent.

"Isabelle," Jace tried again but Clary stopped him. "Give her a knife."

He swallowed roughly, but nodded. This would change her, they knew. Jace withdrew a blade from his pocket and handed it to Isabelle just as Max's eyes flashed open. Though, Clary knew the thing that had just awoken was no longer Max. Isabelle had a hand holding the zombie's chest down, but it continued to snap at her hungrily. She choked, whispering something to the corpse of her brother before she brought the knife down. It went slack in her arms.

"I lost everything that held me to my old life, and when you lose those ties, you lose who you were. Be grateful you don't know what that's like, and pray you never find out," Clary remembered telling Isabelle. As the girl's agonized cries rang out through the forest, she knew Isabelle's ties had been shattered irreversably. A pang ran through her. No longer would the girl before her look longingly at shoes and bralettes thinking of a simpler life. The apocalypse had taken another victim.

No matter how many stories they told around a campfire, there was no going back for any of them.


You guys are consistently surpassing the twelve reviews within like a day, so I think I'm going to have to expand it to make sure that I'm not publishing like five chapters a day. You are all insane, I love you.

So obviously there were a lot of strong reactions to last chapter, more specifically Max's death. I can't tell you whether anyone else dies or not, obviously, but I can tell you that it all has a purpose to it. A purpose that you will see begin unfolding in the next chapter.

On a totally unrelated note, how has the Shadowhunters tv show not been cancelled? It might be one of the most ungodly, horribly written and acted shows I've ever seen. Malec isn't bad in it though, at least. But Clace? Ouch.

But speaking of Clace...

See ya next chapter!