Day 2 – Zombies

"Was that the last one?" Megan peered over Nathaniel's shoulder through the narrow gap in the boards they had nailed over the old farmhouse's windows.

He lowered his rifle. "I think so. For the time being."

He looked exhausted. No wonder. For the past three days they'd been holed up here, fighting off wave after wave of attackers. They were fortunate to have Nathaniel with them, Megan mused. Target shooting had turned out to be one of the more useful hobbies once the zombie apocalypse had begun. She wasn't a bad shot either, but Nathaniel's steady aim had proved invaluable in the past two weeks.

It had all happened so quickly. First, the rumours about a strange new virus, bred in a secret laboratory somewhere in South America. Then the news reports about victims falling prey to it within minutes, turned into mindless husks, aggressive and possessed of superhuman strength and speed. Their greyish skin and bloodshot eyes had quickly earned them the nickname "zombies", as had their unfortunate habit of tearing into their victims with their teeth, thus spreading the virus in record time.

The authorities had failed to realize the extent of the danger, and by now it was hard to tell whether there were any structures left in place that could deal with the advancing hordes. The media had gone dead a week ago, and people had begun to barricade themselves into their houses, hoarding provisions and ammunition in a desperate attempt to save themselves and their nearest and dearest.

"Megan?" Nathaniel's voice tore her out of her musings. "I'd like to take a quick nap, if that's okay. Could you keep watch for me for a while?" He smiled at her affectionately, raising a hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face.

Megan smiled back, feeling a pleasant shudder at his touch, despite her own exhaustion. He'd asked her for a date, back before the madness started, and she'd been sincerely flattered by his attention. Nathaniel was an attractive guy, dark and broody, and with an air of quiet competence. Still, now was not the time or place for romantic attachments. And I wonder if there ever will be such a time again.

She sighed and nodded. "Get some rest. They'll be back soon enough."

Nathaniel had hardly left, headed for the back of the house where they'd set up their bunks, when Carver appeared in the doorway. "Would you like some company?"

He looked pretty drained as well, his thick black hair tousled, dark shadows on his cheeks. Megan chewed her lip for a moment in deliberation. She really ought to send him to bed. Yet, she'd be glad of the distraction. Her own thoughts tended towards the hopeless these days.

"Sure." Reaching for a pillow and a blanket, she made herself as comfortable as possible in her seat near the window.

The heating had gone out three days ago, but they'd stuck around because the farmhouse was both easily defensible and chock-full of provisions. She didn't know what had become of the farmer and his wife. She remembered them from when she'd come here to shop for organic food. Megan bit back a desperate laugh. It seemed unreal that she had ever worried about healthy eating or being careful with natural resources. If this whole thing went on a little longer, there would be no humans left to use up the Earth's bounty. Probably it's just as well.

Carver raised an eyebrow at her pensive expression, but didn't say a word as he made himself comfortable on the floor, right at her feet. He'd changed the most since they'd come here, transformed from a sulky teenager into a quiet, responsible young man. His physical strength had turned out to be a prime asset, as had his familiarity with tools and his skill at carpentry. Far more useful now than any academic achievements.

"How are the others doing?" She nudged his shoulder. "Everyone okay?"

He shrugged. "As well as can be expected. Sigrun is doing her best to keep everyone's spirits up. Says the worst that can happen is that we all die." He gave her a crooked grin. "Not very comforting, come to think of it. Velanna has found a few books and refuses to talk to anyone. And Oghren and Anders are busy making dinner."

Megan made a face. "Oghren? Is he even sober enough to be let near a fire?"

Carver grinned. "He's stone-cold sober. There's not a drop left to drink in the house."

"Ouch. He must be grumpy as hell then." Megan pulled her feet up under the blanket. "Still, on the bright side, maybe he'll actually make himself useful now."

They were a curious company, thrown together by chance rather than by choice. When the attacks had started, they'd all been waiting at the local laundromat, strangers and casual acquaintances who'd avoided each other's gazes for the most part. Thanks to Nathaniel's quick thinking and Carver's solid muscles, they'd managed to barricade themselves in, make their way to the rooftops, and then eventually to the comparative safety of the surrounding countryside.

"Megan?" Carver was looking up at her, his eyes dark and serious. "Do you think we'll survive?"

She breathed a deep sigh. "I really don't know, Carver. Sometimes I feel we have a chance, if we can only hold out until they all succumb to the illness. And then again…"

Carver swallowed. "I know what you mean. But Megan, just in case we all die, I wanted to tell you-"

Before he could speak, gunfire erupted at the back of the house. Megan was on her feet in a flash. "Shit. They've sneaked past us and are coming from the other side."

She grabbed her gun and made for the door, but it opened before she could get there. Nathaniel was standing in the doorway, rifle in hand, his silhouette framed by the red light of the evening sun.

"Megan?" His voice sounded strained. "They… They got in."

Megan bit back a scream when she saw. The bite marks on his arm. The sickly colour of his skin. The expression in his eyes, glazing over, with the barest shred of sanity left.

"Damn it, Megan, shoot. Kill me. Now." It was almost a howl.

But she couldn't do it. Paralyzed by terror, she watched as his face turned feral and his lips turned up in a snarl. His fists opened and closed, as if he was struggling against his own body.

Then he attacked.