Five awoke to the sound of Runner Eleven snoring in the bunk above her. She smirked and yawned, stretching out her only slightly tense muscles. After rolling out of bed and changing into her uniform, Five grabbed a quick breakfast and headed to Janine's home.

Inside, people were bustling around. Planning, talking, scheming urgently. Janine was in the middle of it all, calling out commands as she paced around Runner Seven, who was bent over some plans.

"Morning," Five said to Janine. "Can I help with anything?"

"Runner Five, good to see you're finally awake. We have much to do." She glanced down over Seven's shoulder, scanning the writing. "Right now, we have Runners Three and Twelve on a supply mission. We are in desperate need of more weapons. You can help Runner Ten in the armoury. I believe he needs assistance to help test some zombie avoidance strategies. Do go there now."

Five nodded and sped across Abel to the armoury, entering the fence quietly. Runner Ten was writing furiously on an old card table, muttering to himself and punching figures into an old calculator.

"Hey, Ten."

He looked up. "Morning, Five. What brings you here?"

"Janine said you needed help with some testing…?"

"Ah, wonderful. Yes, I do need a runner to help me out with this. Why don't you come sit?"

Five took the other rickety chair next to Ten and peered down over his work.

"I've been able to round up a couple of zoms for testing," he explained. "They're tied up about a kilometer from Abel, and I just need to run some experiments about the best way to kill them. What works well, what doesn't. Would you be willing to help with that?"

What was Five going to say? No? "Sure."

Soon, the runners were on their way, accompanied on the radio by a very distracted Sam, who was having trouble wrapping his mind around running two very different missions at once.

"Just—just yell or something if you need me," Sam explained. "I just—this isn't exactly easy. I've got to focus on that horde following Runner Three at the moment. Are you guys all right on your own for a bit? You're not far from Abel at all."

"We're fine, Sam," Ten reassured him. "Just focus on keeping the others safe. We'll let you know if we need anything."

With the volume turned down low so Sam's directions to the other mission were just a low chatter in the background, Five and Ten reached a small field. Three zombies were chained—with uncomfortably long chains—to a stake in the middle of the clearing. One had no legs and was dragging itself around on its stomach, leaving a rotting trail of filth behind it.

"You've given them a lot of room to move around," Five said nervously.

"Yes. We need that space to make a realistic simulation." Ten checked the papers he had tucked in his backpack. "All right, Five. There's this way the zoms have of moving. I have a theory that there's a rhythm to it. I think I can time their small movements to see if they're all moving at the same speed." He paused, scanning his notes again. "Okay. First, can you get their attention and get them all to the other side of the field? I need them to be at the end of their chains over there."

"Right." Five called out to the zombies and jogged to the other side of the field, waving her arms and generally making a scene. Of course, the undead heard her and made their way over—a little more quickly than Five was comfortable admitting—but she backed up until they were grabbing for her at the ends of their tethers. The crawler swiped at her ankles viciously.

"Okay, they're here!" she called.

"Good! Now, just disappear behind that tree for a moment, and I'll distract them." Ten dropped his papers and went to the middle of the field to the fence post where the chains were connected.

"Aren't you kind of close for that? The chains are really long."

"Don't worry, I've got this under control."

Five hesitated but then stepped behind the tree. She was out of sight. The zombies immediately turned to the new distraction—Ten, who was egging them on and tugging on the chains from the post—and stumbled over toward him.

Five peeked out from the tree, watching Ten apprehensively. He was allowing those zoms to speed up close to him. Even the crawler was fast. He stood there defiantly, an old baseball bat in hand, as they approached.

A foot away from their reaching fingers, Ten jumped out of the way and swatted one across the head; though its neck cracked, it continued shambling forward. Another zombie reached out and grasped Ten's shirt in its fingers, dragging him toward its hungry jaws.

"Ten!" Five screeched, jumping away from the trees. The zombies, distracted by the sound, hesitated and Ten quickly batted them away from his shirt.

"Five!" Ten called out, frustrated. The zombies began shambling toward Five again. "I had it under control. Please, I appreciate your concern, but in order for me to track their movements properly, they cannot be distracted!"

"That was too close!" Five protested as the zoms approached her again, safely out of reach thanks to the chains.

"This is very important," Ten replied seriously. "Please, Five, allow me to handle it."

Five sighed and vanished behind the tree again. Ten called out to the zoms, who headed toward him with a renewed vigor.

Five curled her hands in the peeling tree bark as Ten pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scowled at the zoms. "I've got it. I've got this!"

The three zoms scrambled toward him, reaching out with their greedy hands. Ten seemed to be counting the seconds in between their steps, and he pranced out of the way just as the first reached him, managing to decapitate it with his bat. He turned to the second zom with a gleam in his eye. He swung his bat, missed the zom, and stumbled to the side—right into the clutches of the crawler.

"TEN!" Five screamed. Blood gushed from Ten's calf as the crawler sank its teeth into his flesh.

Five managed to stab the second walking zombie in the cranium with the spare hunting knife she had brought before turning to the howls of pain. With a snarl, Ten beat down on the head of the crawler, smashing its deteriorating skull to pieces.

"No!" Five gasped, horrified, her eyes stuck to the crescent-moon-shaped bite marks on Ten's leg. "No, no no!"

Ten was gazing down at himself, his eyes glazed over. Unable to comprehend what had just happened to him.

"Sam!" Five shrieked. "Sam, come in, do you read me?"

"Wh—what is it?" he asked, alarmed. "Five, what—"

"It's Ten! He got bitten!"

"Oh my God."

"What do I do?"

"Five," Ten said, his voice quiet. "I'm just—God, I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid! I just—all of my research—my daughter—my daughter—!"

"Ten, I'll take you back to Abel, I can't—"

"Runner Five?" Dr. Myers's voice cut in through her panic. "Five, can you hear me?"

"Yes!"

"Bring home Ten immediately. I'm going to take a look at him."

Sam interrupted her. "But what if he—"

"I think Ten has done enough for Abel that he deserves a checkup and a last request," she replied firmly. "Five, bring him back."

"Ten, come on, we have to hurry," Five said, biting back her fear and hoisting his arm over her shoulder. "We have to go now. You can do whatever you need to in the time you have left."