Z-Nation: Start Over (Seasons 6, 1, and 2)

by Gia_Nicole

Summary:

It was so close now. With all the information that he needed, there was no way anyone was going to be able to stop him. That is, if nobody knew. Yet, there will always be those that choose to do and choose to don't, and Murphy happened to run right into their roadblock. His new plan--his new vision, taken away to lead him where? Right back to day one.

(Time Travel, zombie filled, humor and gore fanfiction over everybody's most loveable Z- slaying team.)

Notes:

Author's Notes: This takes place a few minutes before "The End of Everything" cut out. First starts in Murphy's point of view after he tasted a part of Sun Mei's brain.

Overview: While the vote has been read, a new plan arises. Now as Murphy is satisfied with the knowledge; he finds a new mission for humanity.

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

 

The gooey texture filled his mouth as a familiar metallic taste oozed onto his taste buds, yet not in the way most people feel it. His unbrushed and now slightly rotting teeth came down once again onto the raw and chewy brain that he had somehow come to enjoy as years passed in the apocalypse. It had been a while since he had actually enjoyed in what he would call a rich luxury. Sure, zombie brains had been alright when he was trying to find Roberta, but that had been almost a year ago.

 

Now he had a brain, and it just happened to be one of the smartest people he knew.

 

Despite himself, he couldn't help but thank Sun Mei for realizing that he would know what to do with her brain. None of the team, besides Warren, knew that he was fond of eating human brains. Although, Warren finding that out had been almost four years ago, and she thought he had been…somewhat cured back at Zona. He was, but now?

 

As if to put it in almost everybody's words, he looked like the Devil. Whether to take that with stride or not wasn't something he focused on at the moment. Not what people thought of him; what he looked like; hell, even the fine taste the brain and satisfaction that it gave him was wearing into the back of his mind.

 

No, it wasn't any of those that he managed to focus on. It was what came with Sun Mei's brain.

 

Murphy knew that Sun Mei hadn't just given him her brain for the satisfaction of enjoying it. Not when she was dying, and definitely not when she had so much knowledge. Nope, that wasn't what she was thinking. What she was thinking was what Murphy would be able to do with her knowledge.

 

Or, to say what Murphy had figured out with Dr. Merch after she committed suicide, transfer of knowledge through consumption. He had no idea how Sun Mei had figured that out, but it had been such a crazy year that he honestly couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Besides, if he was that curious all he'd have to do is eat more of her brain.

 

That, however, was not what he wanted to do. Not at the moment anyway. What he wanted to do was figure out what she wanted him to know, and believe him when he says this, but Murphy has a pretty good idea as to what that is. He had only taken one measly bite from the rich, chewy delight and it had opened his mind to a vast amount of knowledge.

 

The Talkers; the cures; a secret worth keeping. It was all starting to come to him.

 

"Sun Mei."  His voice was quiet, his eyes widening as his mind opened up more to what she knew. To what she was letting him know. It brought a sense of joy that he couldn't help but laugh at. He knew this now. He knew. Knew what others can't, won't, and will never know, and now he did.

 

He was sure he had stopped chewing by now. That he had swallowed the tiny part of the brain that he had eaten, but the information he received was too much to keep him from continuing on at the moment.

 

"That's it." Another portion came to him, almost like a blast hitting him. This is what she wanted him to know. This is why she gave him her brain.

 

A cure for the Talkers. One that could make them more human again and could save them. Where while lithium would run out; where their Bizkuits supply would run dry, this wouldn't. A cure.

 

The cure.

 

Not just for the Talkers. Not just to make them more human again.

 

Another laugh escaped him.

 

No, Sun Mei, the genius had figured out how to make a cure for the whole zombie apocalypse. The Talkers, a variation of zombies caused by Black Rainbow, were still like zombies. Mutated, but a mix almost; Zombie and human. The same couldn't be said for his blends, but supposedly Sun Mei was curious on that level too, if her thoughts and knowledge were anything to go by.

 

 But the Talkers? Who they were, what they were, allowed for a way to come up with a real cure with his blood. One that would cure humans and give them immunity to the virus; Talkers and make them more human, while hopefully curing them; and the trials for all the others were yet to be made.

 

Regardless of that, the knowledge was there. The cure was there, right in the brain that he held in his hands.

 

"Of course." His lips pulled up in the corners, revealing almost a devilish smile on his face. Oh how sure he was he looked like Satan at the moment, but no one was around to see to tell him. No one was around to know what he was doing. Making sure, Murphy pulled himself out of his haze as he scanned around him. No one was there, and all that could be heard was the cheering of the crowd inside. He was alone.

 

Good. He needed it that way anyway.

 

His attention was pulled back to the brain in his hands, almost pulsating as he hungrily watched it. He wanted the knowledge more than the taste now, which in all honesty was quite surprising to him. Regardless he dug his hands back to the top portion, fingers covered in blood as he pulled yet another piece off of it.

 

Hastily, he shoved it into his mouth, waiting as an onslaught of knowledge yet again came to him.

 

The beginnings of how to make it; why to make it; and how it was discovered. The research started to fill his mind as it overlapped with what he already knew from Doctor Merch. The two women's knowledge clashing with one another, proving and disproving what one another could not share. Now he had both of their knowledge. What he needed.

 

Murphy went to take another bite, but the sound of footsteps and lively chatter filtered into his overworking mind. He couldn't let them know. No one could know what he was doing. Now, he wasn't necessarily one to care what others thought of his actions, but the fear of what they might do to him for those actions were ones that had him stashing the brain back into the portable cooler and forcing him to run to find a more isolated location.

 

Dodging the oblivious eyes as to what he was doing, Murphy ran through the gate and out into the woods. He wasn't quite sure how far he had run, but he knew it was enough that he was far away from the onlookers and civilians of Altura. So, slowly he lightened his pace to a steady jog before completely coming to a stop. Pine trees providing shade above him, Murphy dropped to his knees again, swinging the cooler over his shoulder and onto the ground beside him.

 

Carefully, his hands slightly shook with an unusual excitement as he unzipped the cooler and took out the brain. It was colder, not like the ones he had eaten before, but did it really matter now? It slightly did because above all he still wanted to enjoy it, but his mind would be too preoccupied at that moment anyway to really enjoy it.

 

He took in a sharp breath as his gaze scanned over it once again. All that knowledge, all that flavor, inside just waiting for him. He didn't want to go slow, but he also didn't want to finish it all and let this new joy run out. The joy of knowing more. The joy of finding more out about the cure…

 

Screw it. He wasn't about to take his time. Hey! Less suspicion on him anyway in case anyone came looking.

 

Like a ravenous animal, like a zombie, his face tore into the meaty substance as he took large bites. Each one providing more knowledge than the last and adding onto his hunger for more of it. But it was gone all too quickly as the last bite was shoved into his mouth, and the leftover blood trickled down his fingers from the scrumptious meal. The uncomfortableness it brought would have been enough to make him wash it all away, but he ignored the blood as he picked off tiny residual pieces of the brain that had fallen on his shirt as he ate. Each bit of knowledge always helped.

 

A content sigh slipped through his lips as it all came into place. The steps of how to create it, of how it worked, fell into his mind like the last of a puzzle being put together. When the last piece was put into place, his eyes shot open as it all came to him so clearly. The bigger picture; the complete puzzle.

 

He knew all he needed to know. All that could be provided to him.

 

"Thank you, Sun Mei." He pushed himself up from the ground, the sticky, thick blood accumulating scattered, crumpled leaves onto his hands. He went to run a hand through his goatee, the leaves from his hand transferring over to his facial hair as he did so.

 

He needed to wash up. He couldn't go back there and have everyone seeing him like this. Despite his skin being red, he was sure that he couldn't fool anyone if he told them that it was just his skin darkening. So, with that in mind, he wandered a little way down into the pine forests looking for somewhere to wash up.

 

He almost mindlessly let his feet carry him along as his thoughts raced over everything he learned in the brief moments before. It was enough to make him smirk as he thought over it. The cure that Sun Mei never got to test, and the Talker cure that she had tested and found to work. It was all too perfect. It was just what he needed.

 

Mumbling some of the discovers that had been given to him, he stopped dead in his tracks as he looked around him, eyes narrowing.

 

"Where the hell is a creek?" That was what his goal had been, hadn't it? He wanted to wash up before heading back to the others so that they wouldn't find him covered in blood.

 

He shifted his head to the right, trying to listen for any sort of rushing water, but none came. Annoyed, he listened all around him, but when there ceased to be a sound of a babbling brook, he decided to pick a direction (other than for the one he had just come from) and travel from there. Finding west to be his best option (how ironic) he took off that way, hoping to find what he was looking for.

 

In the end, about five minutes later, he did find one. He figured he had been gone too long though, so the wash was brief, only enough to get the blood and grime off of seeable places.

 

The thought washed over him like the water, before he got out and left it all behind. That was the past anyway. This, now this was the future, and he held it right in his head. Pulling the empty cooler's strap back over his shoulder, he made his way back to Altura and stealthily snuck back into the lab Sun Mei had died in. Her body now gone and the room cleaner than before, Murphy stashed the cooler out of sight so that it was hidden. He didn't want anyone becoming nosy and finding out something they weren't supposed to.

 

Before anyone could see what he was doing, he dashed out into the yard, wandering around and staying a good ways away from most of the humans and Talkers, just in case they noticed something was slightly different about him. Murphy didn't think they would though. He had always been good at hiding what truly was behind a mask he created. Let that be a snarky mask or a nervous one, he knew he was pretty good at hiding what was at times. Maybe he should've become an actor pre-z.

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts as six people made their way to him in a light jog.

 

"Murphy! Where have you been, man? You missed who won." He could never mistake Doc for anyone else, even if he wasn't looking the older man's way.

 

"Hm?" Murphy so intelligently replied, mind just becoming aware of the others' presence.

 

"Where've you been?" Warren repeated as she slowed to a walk and made her way beside him.

 

"Ah, you know." He gestured around him at nothing in particular. "Just wandering around." He pulled his attention back to the group, all of them now crowded around him with an air of joy and speculation. "Who won?" They were reading the votes, weren't they?

 

Despite Warren's questioning of where he had gone, a proud smile pulled up on her face as her hand landed on George's shoulder. "Take a guess."

 

Murphy found it pretty obvious who had won from the action.

 

"Congrats." He nodded his head in approval her way as a slight smile formed on her bruised face.

 

"Well, you know. Lots of work to do, and I wouldn't mind the help?" George turned to Roberta, but Roberta declined the offer with the shake of her head.

 

"Maybe later. Just want to adjust with being…" She trailed off, still having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she had been dead for practically a year now.

 

"Totally get it." George backed away, nodding her head in agreement before turning to the rest of the group. "Where's that leave the rest of you guys?"

 

Doc was the first to speak up, raising his hand slightly as his hippie glasses slid down his face a little revealing his dark blue eyes. "Figured I'd take a trip back to the Water Keepers. See if they still need help."

 

Murphy couldn't help himself as he felt a little sad at the thought of Doc leaving. He and the older man had become close with one another, brothers as they would sometimes call each other. Years ago, back before the nukes, Murphy had almost called Doc his friend. Now, even with all the team he had grown close to, he started to consider them something of a family. The idea was short lived as the team listed off the fact that they were splitting up.

 

"Addy?" Said girl raised her head, her hair bouncing as the portion covering her eye moved slightly with her revealing the eyepatch that she had for nearly two to three years now. She glanced around at the group before titling her head slightly to the sky, rubbing the back of her neck in the process.

 

"Might just travel the world. Little sight-seeing here; a little z killing there. The usual." Such an Addy thing to do. Although, with Murphy's help and the knowledge he obtained, her plan might just have a few setbacks.

 

"Always a joy." George agreed before turning to 10K and Red. "You two?"

 

10K looked thoughtfully at Red as she looked back at him, a small smile pulled up on her face as they seemed to communicate silently with one another. 10K turned back to the group, shrugging his shoulders.

 

"Stay here and see what we can help out with... Up my count, too." He added as an afterthought.

 

Great, Murphy couldn't help but think sarcastically. He'd be staying here with the kid then.

 

"Whatcha at now?" Doc questioned as 10K thought it over.

 

"9,011." A proud smile formed on Doc's face as he clapped 10K on the back.

 

"989 more to go, kid!" Now a smile formed on 10K's face from Doc's enthusiasm to almost completing his goal. "Still want to be called Jeff when you reach it?"

 

Slight shock appeared on 10K's face as he stared at Doc. "You still remember that?"

 

A hearty laugh escaped Doc, but the same couldn't be said for Murphy. He didn't think the name Jeff properly fit 10K. Thomas? Yeah sure. Jeff? Eh… pass.

 

" 'Course I do." It was still a nice gesture between the two as 10K's shock subsided back into a smile, and the rest of the team seemed to earn one of their own.

 

"What about you, Roberta?" Warren gave a sigh in return, a small love-stricken but unusual fear displayed on her face.

 

"Cooper said he'd be heading back to his home. I might go back to him for a little while and get use to everything before coming back here." George again nodded, knowing that her friend would be leaving for a while seemed to put some sadness onto her happy face. Murphy could say the same for himself, but he was able to mask it.

 

Instead of George turning to him to ask him what he planned on doing, it was Roberta who gave him a gentle smile in return. "What about you, Murphy?"

 

"Plan on raining fire and brimstone down upon Earth?" Just like he said before, everyone now compared him with the Devil. Despite it all, the comment was one to be funny then to jeer, so Murphy laughed and shook his head.

 

"Have some business to finish here, so hell on Earth will have to wait." Doc, with his usual dopey smile brightened back at Murphy as they bounced off of each other's comments. The easiness of it all seeming to come to them leaving them all content. It actually kept his own mind from going back to thinking over what he had just recently gained; something that only this group seemed to achieve.

 

"Hey." Red caught their attention as she cautiously looked over Murphy. "Where did you put Sun Mei's brain?" The peace was ruined for a moment as the other five seemed to question that as well. It struck a fear to Murphy as Warren's infamous prying gaze met his own. Instead of cowering back and revealing what he had done, he hid it all under a shrug.

 

"Put it in a safe place." It was all he said back. The safest option he could give unless he wanted to reveal that that 'safe place' was in his stomach, which probably wouldn't delight the group in any way.

 

Warren raised an eyebrow, an incredulous expression across her face as she analyzed him. Murphy, in return, gave something of a knowing look back at her before they both dropped it. Neither finding defeat or victory in their silent argument. All Warren could do at that point was give a small laugh before turning away from Murphy and shaking her head.

 

"Well, I guess that means we're splitting up for now…willingly." Horrors of splitting up in the past were something the group vowed not to do often, but now it almost seemed…careless to split up. In the normal world it would be fine. A simple act that happened quite often. Now though, with years of sticking together, hoping that by each other's side you'd be safe, it didn't feel right to experience that sort of normalcy. Given, Murphy never really stuck to the whole 'staying together' thing in the first place, so the act wasn't as impactful on him as if was for everyone else. Yet, Murphy still felt odd about the situation, a threating thought that if they did split up it would end in someone getting killed, or kidnapped, beaten, eaten, or practically anything else that followed along those lines.

 

It felt wrong, but with the world finally changing, also right in a way. An odd mixture.

 

"That's gotta be new." Doc shook his head, obviously reflecting back on the times when they had split up and it didn't end well.

 

Addy let out a breathy laugh as her gaze shifted to the sky again. "Agreed." She thought for a moment, a sad smile pulled together on her face as she looked over the group. "I guess this is good-bye? For now, I hope."

 

Warren walked over to her, filling in the short distance in a matter of seconds as she pulled the girl into an embrace. "We'll meet up again. You gotta promise you'll hold up on that end of the deal though." Addy, who had been missing from the group for quite some time a few years ago, was now one of the ones that would be doing the most traveling. To think that she was the one to be worried for a reunion while simultaneously being back at the east coast was ironic to think about, but fitting in a way.

 

"I'll come back." She pulled out of the embrace, staring Warren in the eyes before looking at the rest of the group. "Can't leave this family after all the time we spent in this hell-bent apocalypse."

 

"Amen." Doc agreed from the side, beaming warmly at the one-eyed zombie slayer.

 

Another laugh, sad this time, came from Addy as she made her way to the others, giving each of them a hug. As she came up to Murphy, she stood before him, a glazed expression on her face. He could only imagine that it had something to do with Lucy. A bond between the two that seemed to also bring him and Addy closer together.

 

He put a hand on her shoulder, before pulling her into an embrace as well. With her being shorter, he had to crouch down a little to whisper to her. "Stay alive out there."

 

She again retreated from the hug as she gave a small nod towards him. "Always." It was thick with a grief that only came from losing someone close. Regardless, she straightened up taking in a deep breath and brushing a lonesome tear from her face.

 

"Might as well get out of here before dark falls." She nodded to the group as she reached for her Z-Whacker. "See you soon?"

 

"Anytime." Warren confirmed as Addy gave her two finger salute to Warren, and Warren reciprocating it back.  And like that, Addy was gone. A sense of loss washed over the group at it but hope to know that things were turning into something better started to fill them. Well, all of them except Murphy. He knew there was a better tomorrow. One that he would make, of course.

 

Warren turned around, heading back to her place between George and Murphy, pacing for a short moment as she let her thoughts race. "Addy's right. If you want to get out of here, now would be a good time to start."

 

"I might stay here for tonight. Head out early in the morning instead. Safer traveling at dawn than dusk." Doc reasoned as he shrugged his shoulders. "Another day here won't hurt."

 

"It sure won't." George agreed sending a fleeting glance at Warren, questioning the latter on her decision. Warren noticed it as she bit her lip and shook her head, placing her hands on her hips.

 

"Cooper's farmhouse is a long way from here. Think you'll start out there now?" It was Murphy who decided to bring it up to her. He didn't really want Warren to leave. In all honesty, he'd rather that they stick together instead, but that wasn't how this was working out now. Even with all the years they had been together, they knew the day would come when they would go their separate ways. Murphy wouldn't have complained about that the first few months he met the group, but now he did. Regretted that Roberta or Doc had to leave and leave Murphy with no clue on when they would see each other again.

 

Warren seemed to pick up on his discomfort but repressed from acknowledging it fully.  " Doc's advice sounds pretty good. I'll leave by dawn." She tilted her head up at him, giving a small comforting smile in return. Murphy looked away, giving a quick nod as he glanced back to the Talkers.

 

"Anything you need to pack?"

 

They turned to George; amusement written on their faces. " This is the zombie apocalypse. When do we ever have something we need to pack?" George gave a quick laugh to Doc's answer, she too shaking her head with her arms crossing over her chest.

 

"Right, sorry. We'll get back to that normal some other time." A time closer than they expect. With some alone time, Murphy would be able to start on the cure. All he needed was time and privacy. Two of which were hard to come across in the zombie apocalypse.

 

The discussion after that broke off as it divided into smaller conversations. Roberta talking to George, while Doc and Red talked with 10K listening beside them. That left Murphy with his thoughts as they all started to wander away. He sighed to himself, the relief of being alone and not having to hold up a façade left him relaxed at the moment.

 

He peered back to the Talkers and humans, all engaging in a conversation with one another. It was serene and peaceful, but it could be more than that. He just needed time. With time and privacy, Murphy could accomplish a whole lot more than any of the others were expecting.

 

--------line break-----------

 

Murphy laid in bed that night; tired but awake. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't get himself to shut his mind off and drift into a peaceful slumber. Well, he knows it will be far from peaceful, but a slumber at least. Regardless, it wouldn't work. Sleeping just wouldn't work for him tonight.

 

How grand.

 

The room was dark, the only light that shone in was the moon's and even then, it illuminated very little. With the best of his ability, not even relying on seeing at the moment, he pushed himself up from the uncomfortable mattress and kicked the thin blankets to the side. He should probably be thankful. For the bed and mattress, something that he had been wishing desperately for in the early days of Operation Bitemark and before that when he was in jail. Now though, he just wished for it to go back to normal. To be better. Not cheap, somewhat moldy material, or slightly tattered sheets. No, he wanted it to be more. More like Pre-Z. Better than zombie apocalypse junk.

 

And it would be. He knew that it would be. With him, and with what he could achieve, he was going to make everything better. His way.

 

Now, if he told people that they would probably freak out. Tell him not to do it his way. Except the problem was they didn't know what his way actually meant. It wasn't too far off from what most people wanted. To be fair, it was almost exactly what everyone wanted. Normalcy and peace. That was his plan. A life without fear, something he had desperately tried to do back in Spokane. Back before that whole plan had been ruined.

 

It didn't matter though. Yes, a part of him still cared about how things went down in Washington. How he wished it would have gone better, but it hadn't. Instead, it led him down yet another rabbit hole of catastrophe and threw them back out here, leading them to something better.

 

Murphy hadn't been able to accomplish much since almost the whole group was still here. He wanted to go unnoticed while doing this, while doing his plan. Not because he didn't enjoy the public praise and attention, more-so because he wasn't as proud of the reason as to how he obtained the information. He would rather that it was kept on the downlow that he liked brains, thank you very much.

 

And maybe that's why he hadn't been able to get much sleep. Because he hadn't been able to accomplish anything at the moment, even when he had all the information with him. He had been going over and over and over with the plan and steps as to how to make it, constantly keeping his brain working and keeping him from drifting to sleep. That had to be the reason why, but it wasn't like he could help it. Maybe once he actually started it would get better. Otherwise, for now, he was left awake with his thoughts.

 

Huffing out a breath, he glanced around the dark room and out the window. The moon shone over the grass and trees, creating a peaceful image that was only intensified by the slight chirping of the crickets. It was a nice night, he had to give it that. It wasn't so bad that he couldn't sleep if it stayed like this.

 

And if it stayed like this, he would like it that much better so that he could go over his plan one more time.

 

He sat there quietly for a while, basking in the night's glow and beautiful scene the world had to offer for the time being. Waiting to make sure it didn't fade, he cracked one eye opened as he looked at it again. Nothing had changed. Good.

 

Guess this owned up to be a night to ponder over his plan.

 

It was simple really. Well, simple to him at least. It wouldn't have been before if he hadn't eaten both doctors' brains, but what could he say? What's done was done, and it helped him in the long run. To simplify the plan in his mind, he marked it off as a list.

 

First, he'd need to actually start making a cure for the Talker's. It would be maybe three years before the food supply they had here would run out, so Murphy figured he'd do theirs' first so they wouldn't go feral. Then he'd work on the main cure. The one the world had been looking for, for almost ten years now. Of course, he'd have to create it and then go through trials to see if it worked properly again, but most of the discovers of how to make it were already done for him. Thus, the process was just 'make then test'. Simple and easy.

 

From there and once found to work, they would distribute it world-wide. Freeing the human race from the bondage that this zombie apocalypse held them in. And then it would be done. The world would start building up again and everything would slowly make its way back to being normal. What is left of the human race would mend, and the destruction caused would be repaired. Jobs would open up; food would be distributed again, and all would be right with the world. Well, as right as the world could get anyway.

 

But then that left him to wonder what he would do. There would be no need to travel across the country to get a cure made. There would be no need to solve a mystery over zombies or Talkers. No need for crazy, wacky adventures with the group that somehow always ended with the place they left burning down. No need to run away or hide from bounty hunters. To stick together and fight for their lives. No need for Operation Bitemark. No need for him.

 

So where would that leave him? In a fixed world, what would he do? Start another life? Get a job? It seemed like a vast dream, and one that he would never fathom living in again. The apocalypse made him lose everything. Given, he had lost most of his things before the zombies infested the earth, but that wasn't the point. He had lost his old way of life, his own life at that. He lost his daughter, the one person he cared for the most in this messed up world. She had been his blood. Lucy was his and now she was gone. What did he have to live for then?

 

He remembered the nights, back when the group first banded together, where most people hated his guts. Even to the point where he somehow managed to make 10K want to kill him after he wasn't necessary anymore. Now, he figured, 10K had given up on that, surprisingly enough. He had always expected to wake up one day with a gun pointed to his head, 10K on the other side. It was one of the reasons they seemed to hate each other so much, among many others, but the one of killing had been one to rival it all. Now though, Murphy didn't have to worry about that, and it left him feeling more confused than not. Because once he cured the human race from extinction, what would happen to him?

 

He wouldn't be needed anymore, would he? People wouldn't look to him as if he held something valuable with him. Some nights he would have hated when people did that, but now? He liked the attention, and when the cure was made, that attention would be ripped from him. Leaving him stranded with nothing else to strive for. Nothing else really to complete.

 

How would the world look at him then? Sure, he saved the human race, but would they just overlook everything that he had done in the apocalypse and before? Saving millions of lives had to at least lighten the blow for enslaving people as his minions or committing mail fraud before the apocalypse. Wouldn't it?

 

What if it didn't? What if they decided to lock him back up in a cell; Make him pay for the crimes he committed? No matter the time, long or short, Murphy wasn't sure he could go through with that again. He would admit it. He hadn't been right in those case-scenarios, in fact, he would be the first to admit he was wrong. That what he did hadn't been completely right, but would they see him that way? See him as a changed man?

 

The world's viewpoint had changed tremendously. Before the z's, the world had already been bad. Like always, there was still killing, robbing, murdering, just flat out evil. Then the first year of the zombie apocalypse came, leaving the world in an utter panic. There had been hundreds that went looting; broke laws; who took the devastation into their advantage. There was still murdering and evil always seemed to be a continuous theme. Black Summer was next, and it made the best of the people turn to the worst of options for survival. Just look at Philadelphia for example, or if Cassandra was still alive, she would prove true to his point. What would they, the leaders in charge of enforcing rules and laws, do about all those people who had killed and continued to? The Red Hands? Cannibals? Murders?

 

Murphy wasn't the worst of the apocalypse. Maybe close to worst, but not entirely. Sure, he had been the one to turn people into his blends, and yeah maybe people ended up dying from stupid decisions that he had made in that split second panic. The launching of the nukes were also one to bargain with, but hey, if he hadn't, he would have probably been dead by now. Then there would have been no mission, no cure, and no hope. He was just doing what was right at the time, so could they really punish him for that? Could they punish him like all the others who had committed unspeakable acts during this time of crisis?

 

Yes, they absolutely could.

 

There was no way he could gloss over this one. Even with the panic rising in his chest, and the feeling of him becoming short of breath as he thought this over, there was no way he could calm himself enough with lies. He couldn't say that they would overlook his doing for a few tremendous, good deeds he did. No saying that they would look over what crimes others did either.

 

Instead, they would put him and all the others on trial, judge them, and decided their fate from there. Maybe now he didn't have to worry about 10K killing him, but maybe he did with the world. Would they really charge him with a death sentence after he wasn't needed anymore? He didn't want that. Maybe he didn't have much to live for at this given moment in time, but he would find something.

 

Something?

 

Someone? He didn't know!

 

As his breathing came out jagged now, he couldn't help but think he didn't want to die. He didn't want to have to face the music for his actions. Didn't he finally deserve a happy ending? Not one where he is locked up in a dirty cell with a couple others who did in fact deserve to be there. Couldn't he finally have peace?

 

Of course, this was all a hypothetical realization, but one that held much truth to it. He'd never be off the hook for what he had done. It would always find a way to catch up to him one way or another, but there had to be a way to slow it. To keep it from coming so quickly. Sure, he could make the cure slower, but that put him at more risk of being exposed. There had to be another option. He knew he could never prevent it but keeping it off just a little longer was always helpful.

 

Desperately, he tried to search for answers. Any possibility that may hold off the day. At first, he found nothing. Found nothing that he could surely use to slow the inevitable from happening, but slowly another thought came to mind.

 

Maybe he could prevent it.

 

Just like when he tried the first bite of Sun Mei's brain and gained her knowledge, a similar grin appeared on his face again. The possibility that was offered to him was risky and would probably take a little more time than planned, but it could just work. Not just for him; not just to keep him from a miserable fate. Rather, it would help the whole world. Now don't get him wrong, the world had screwed him plenty of times. More often than not, he would rather just forget about saving the world and focus on finally helping himself to something better, but it always looped back around to the world whether he liked it or not.

 

Now though, he found a way that he would actually prefer to help the world with. One that would do good to him, and one that would save people's lives on a daily basis.

 

An excitement bubbled up in him as he began to pace his tiny room. The unfathomable, but also hopeful possibilities getting the betterment of him as he thought it over. He wouldn't just be curing the human race from the zombies; he would be curing them from their innate sense to do evil as well. If, somehow, he could combine his knowledge of Dr. Merch's blend vaccine, with the knowledge of both of Sun Mei's vaccines, he could manage to keep people from doing bad just by a command from his mind. He could find out if someone tries to hurt another and stop them. He could keep others from robbing and stealing.

 

He could make the world a better place. Just by the will of his mind he could cease violence and destruction once and for all. He could save people from dooming the planet once again. Save the world from corruption and hatred, if only it entitled him to be in control. That's all he needed. Then, with everyone under his regime, they could all be saved, and he wouldn't have to suffer a life not worth living.

 

It seemed all too perfect, all he needed. It would be tricky, to combine the two sperate vaccines together, but the end result would be just as good. All he had to do was make it and keep the others from knowing because even with all the good it would cause, others (like Roberta) may take it in the opposite direction, and he wouldn't let that happen.

 

Not ever again.

Chapter 2: Start and Finish

Summary:

Overview: With the plan in motion, a few problems occur in achieving the hope that has been provided.

Notes:

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to their appropriate owners. Whether that be The Asylum, SYFY, Z-Nation Creator and Writers, etc.
There is some swearing in this one as well...you have been warned!
I also want to warn you that this story will be multiple chapters. More than fifty-- that I know of at the moment. The concept of time travel is coming up soon.

 

 

 It had been months since the idea had first come into his head, and months since he started to work on the cure. Long tiring hours of hiding out in a lab, trying to go unnoticed by the public, and somehow achieving to do so. Murphy would have to pick out odd hours of the day and night, ones where nobody roamed the lab, and work inconspicuously from there. He didn't have a clock (I mean who would in the zombie apocalypse?) but he assumed that each day he was able to spend a total of 10 hours creating the cure. Give or take in the situation, but he estimated that it had to be around that time.

 

Warren and Doc had left the day after he came up with his plan, which luckily allowed him to start his work the day after that. George had been constantly busy, so she hadn't paid much attention to what he was doing either. The only people he really had to keep an eye out for were wandering onlookers, guards, Red, and 10K. The three formers hadn't been particularly nosy around his work though, and every so often 10K would come in to 'check on him'.

 

Murphy couldn't help but scoff at that. The kid hadn't come in to check on him, that was for sure. If he didn't know any better, yeah he could sort of believe that, but he knew 10K, and he wasn't foolish enough to think that he would just be checking up on him. No, more like making sure Murphy wasn't doing anything stupid checking up kind of way. Which he wasn't, but 10K always came at the hours when he wasn't doing anything in particular, so how would he know?

 

He wouldn't, and Murphy would like to keep it that way. If Warren wasn't going to be the one to stop him from making this blend/zombie cure vaccine, 10K would. Kid had some PTSD from Spokane, even after four years had passed, so Murphy didn't think this whole new cure would sit well with him. Thus, it was better that he, or anybody else, did not find out.

 

Which luckily, they hadn't, and Murphy was going to keep it that way.

 

 Besides, the task was almost complete. Sun Mei had helped out a lot. Well, actually, the knowledge from her mind helped out, but same thing. It didn't matter though. Whether it was her or her brain, it helped move the process along much quicker. With the Talker cure's process already ingrained into his mind, he was able to work on that and get it out of the way. The riskiest part from that, if you don't count trying to not get caught, was to test to make sure it worked on a Talker. Which wasn't too easy.

 

Given no one knew he was working on this secret project of his, he had to sneak a Talker into his lab going unnoticed. That also included bribing the Talker into actually coming in there with him. After some talking (and finding out her name was Janice) he was able to convince her to help him out with this. So, with promises of being cured and offers of Bizkuits, Janice had been the first to try out the regular Talker cure made by him.

 

That had been almost a month after he started to work on his plan, and if he didn't say so himself, he was pretty sure it went really well.

-------

A month into creating the Talker cure:

 

Cautiously, he took large steps through the field, Janice following his lead as the night's dew started to wet the cuffs of their pants. The chill of the night sent shivers down his spine, but finding that he had been in worse situations, he pushed through it until he reached Sun Mei's old lab. It hadn't been abandoned, rather just used less. It gave him the perfect opportunity to work in there. Just like now, as he slides through the door welcoming Janice inside.

 

She growled lowly, showing a sign of contentment and approval of the place. She started to stalk around the lab, her pale with a slightly greenish tint hands running along the surfaces carefully before she brought her hand up to her face and sniffed it. Finding that it was clean, she gave another satisfied sound before repeating the action on another surface. Did he mention she hadn't had a Bizkuits in a while?

 

"Janice." He called to her, a little annoyed by the repetition, causing her to draw her attention towards him, blonde hair falling in her face. Murphy nodded to the medical chair, alerting her to take a seat so that the process could begin. She seemed to understand as she took quick strides to the chair, running her hands along the back before plopping herself down onto the cool metal.

 

He watched her for another second, seeing her gaze anxiously from side to side. She had told him that she was a little worried that the cure wouldn't work, so he assumed that she was doing that action because of it. He could sympathize with her though. It wasn't like she wanted to die, and taking this cure was running the risk of that. Well, that's what she thought at least. Murphy hadn't exactly informed her that Sun Mei had already tested it out prior (on herself that is); rather, he told her that she was going to be the first cured of the Talkers. Which was in fact true, because Sum Mei had been a zombie--not a Talker.

 

Finding his way to the counter, he readied the syringe into the vaccine, grabbing a Bizkuits along the way. With the vaccine in one hand, Bizkuits in the other, he pridefully sauntered over to her, a slight hop in his step. If he were able to play music now, Murphy would probably be bouncing his head to the rhythm of it as well. Sadly, he wasn't, so his walk was all he got.

 

As he made his way beside her, he pulled a rolling chair with his foot behind him, sitting down once he knew he wouldn't fall on his bottom. He rolled the chair near Janice's, gently setting the syringe on the table before eyeing her again. She stared at him, questioning what he was doing with a raised eyebrow. In an extravagant manner, he snapped his hand up, fingers twirling the Bizkuits in front of her face.

 

"You want this?" He now raised an eyebrow in question as Janice started to drool over it. She made a grab for it, but he pulled it back at the last second, a smirk lining his face.

 

"Ah-ah-ah. Not so fast. First, " He put the Bizkuits back in front of her. "I need to know you are willing to do this. For the betterment of humanity, but are you willing to run the risk?" She nodded vigorously, her eyes moving away from the Bizkuits to show how sincere she was to her option.

 

"Yes…" It was a quiet, rough answer, but he took it anyway.

 

"Alright." Once given confirmation, she snatched the Bizkuits from his hands, shoving it into her mouth almost like he had done with Sun Mei's brain. She nodded slowly, chewing quick as her eyes rolled back to have the familiar taste in her mouth. He turned his head to the left, watching innocently. "Better?"

 

Her eyes snapped open, face bright with joy as she nodded.

 

His smirk grew wider as he rolled the chair back to grab the syringe. Once in his hands, he held it up in front of her just as he did the Bizkuit. Just in case she forgot, he'd offered it in the same fashion so that she would understand. Her expression changed quickly; one filled of joy to uncertainty, as she heavily eyed it. After a moment, she swallowed hard, nodding in acceptance.

 

"I'm ready." Her voice cracked slightly as she screwed her eyes shut. Janice took in a deep breath, chest rattling as she held it in. A moment went by, as Murphy prepared her arm by placing a tourniquet on it and wiped an antiseptic (God, how long had it been since he had seen a whole bottle of that) over the injection sight.  As he pressed the syringe into the vein, Janice let out a quiet whimper, not one from pain, but from fear as the vaccine found its way into her bloodstream.

 

Fear no more. A phrase he had grown quite fond of over the past few years. He went to tell her it to, sensing the fear as she cowered back and whimpered, but he held himself back, allowing her to adjust to what was happening her own way. Once the syringe full of the cure was successfully injected into her bloodstream, he pulled the syringe out, wiping over the hole before placing a pink smiley face Band-Aid over top of it.

 

"Ta-da!" He overdramatically exclaimed, a now wide and genuine smile across his face as he looked at her expectantly. She should be better, right? How long would it usually take to settle in? "How do you feel?"

 

Her eyes now opened, she looked around the room expecting Death to pop out and grab her. It was only a few seconds it went on, before she uncurled herself, looking a little queasy as she woozily sat in her chair. She drowsily looked at him, a small smile appearing on her face as his fell. Getting to feeling that he had to move, he went to push himself up from his seat, but it was too late.

 

He had barely enough time to turn his head before a projectile of vomit hit him, dousing his clothes in the regurgitated food. Luckily, his eyes closed, he hadn't gotten any in his mouth or anywhere else like that, but the smell was still horrific.

 

"Ugh!" He abruptly stood, shaking his hands to get the puke off, trying not to do so himself. "Jeez, that smells! What did you eat- ugh." He bent over, hands on his knees trying not to puke. Even though it started to level him, it also brought him closer to puke, causing another wave of the horrendous smell hit him.

 

Murphy pushed himself up, rushing over to the trash can to dispose of the mess. The puked-up food (if that even was food), his leather jacket, his shirt- everything! He started flinging off pieces into the trash can, hoping to get it off so it wouldn't fall on the floor when he took his shirt off. Wanting to draw away from the sight, he kept looking to make sure it didn't land anywhere else on him. Murphy saw chewed up and slightly decayed Bizkuits, carrots, half a grape, and- oh God, is that part of a finger?

 

"You know," Janice's voice rang into his ears, the happy tone of it contradicting his situation at the moment. "I feel a lot better. I- I really do feel like I'm cured." She let out a laugh, and he could practically hear her bouncing around the room. "Oh my gosh! I'm cured! Thank you. This is the best day of my life." Glad she could be happy.

 

"Good for you." Murphy mumbled, it came out slightly harsh, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He had literally just been puked on!

 

He threw his shirt and jacket into the bin, slamming the top down so the smell wouldn't seep through. He turned on his heel from it, relief filled him now that he wasn't smelling it anymore, as he glanced down at his red bare chest. The eight zombie bites were now healed quite nicely, just scars of the past, but it was slightly more noticeable as it protrudes out against the odd color.

 

"Oh-um. Sorry…about that." Janice pointed to him, then the trash can, having the decency to apologize. "I can, um, clean that up if you'd like." He hadn't even turned her into his blend, and she was already acting like his faithful servant. Although it would have been nice, he raised his hand to decline the offer. A smile, given just a little fake, made its way on his face.

 

"It's fine." He walked up to Janice, towering over as she looked up at him. " You said you feel…cured?" He offered. "Any noticeable differences that you'd care to explain. Anything that feels off from being, " He glanced her over, picking his words carefully to not upset her. "Human?"

 

She didn't seem to take any offense to it, as she checked over herself, moving her hands in front of her face to finish the process. "No, I feel…normal." She looked back up to him, pure joy written across her expression. It was almost contagious.

 

"Good." He turned away, pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, ever so often sending fleeting glances out the window.

 

"Good." He repeated again, looking back at her. " Tell me if anything changes and meet me here at this time every day for two weeks. I just want to make sure it's working as planned." She nodded, bouncing over to the door with an uncontained excitement. "Also," He stopped her, as she swiftly turned towards him. "Keep this on the downlow. Just until I say so." It was slight pleading that left his tone, but he needed her to know how important it was.

 

"Understood." It was surprising how quickly her face could change. It went from complete joy to a sudden seriousness that he usually only saw Warren possess.

 

"Thank you." It came out quietly, and Murphy wasn't sure if she had caught it or not as she closed the door behind her. "Test one: Complete."

-----

 

Now, it had been nearly six months after Janice's trial, and all seemed to be going well. He still hadn't informed the public that she was cured, and he had made sure she hadn't either. Murphy was sure some people were growing suspicious of her though. Seeing as how she didn't need to eat Bizkuits anymore, Janice would often hide them in her pocket and give it to the others. It hadn't caught the attention of anyone at first though. Nobody paid much mind, assuming that all the Talkers were eating what was given to them; however, something always had to change.

 

A few weeks ago, one Talker (Jeremy Hefenhower, as he was introduced) decided he didn't want to eat the Bizkuits anymore. Said, 'He'd find another way to live'. He hadn't been caught until he almost turned back into a ravenousness Z, nearly biting an innocent little girl in the process. Jeremy had luckily been stopped, but a mandate was put out to make sure the Talkers did in fact eat their Bizkuits.

 

So, Janice had to shove the Bizkuits in her mouth from time to time, nearly puking it back up when she was out of sight. Today, however, she tempted fate and decided she was going to not eat it and shove it in her pocket instead. This drew one of the 'Watchers' (as the civilians would call them) attention, and he escorted Janice away. When they had been out of sight, Janice, with an insane amount of strength for a woman her size, had knocked the Watcher unconscious and dragged him to Murphy.

 

"What do you want me to do with him?" He nearly yelled, as he motioned toward the guard. "Lock him in a prison cell?!" His tone was full of disbelief, the same as his expression as he eyed the middle-aged man.

 

"Can you?" She said, and he couldn't tell is she was joking or not, but it didn't sound like it.

 

"No!" He made an incredulous face as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "How did you even get him here?"

 

"I dragged him here." Janice stated so simply, somehow remaining a cool demeanor.

 

"What do you mean, 'you dragged him here'? Your half both of our sizes." She had to be. Or at least, she looked to be. Janice usually wore baggy clothes, so it was hard to tell often times how strong she really looked. Obviously, pretty strong, if she was able to drag a supposed 176-pound guy all the way to Sun Mei's (Murphy's) lab.

 

Janice shrugged in return as she went to poke the Watcher in the face. He didn't so much as move. "What are you going to do with him?" Now she was asking the same question he had just asked her. Like he'd know!

 

"I- don't…" He sputtered, trying to come up with something to do with the man. He couldn't keep him here, that was for sure. He'd rather not get caught in the act of harboring a human in his lab. Do you know how bad that would look on him?

 

"Hey!" Janice drew him out of his thoughts as she snapped her fingers. "What if you use him as your next test subject for the human cure?" Murphy's mouth hung down in disbelief. Not because she knew of the second vaccine he had been working on for the human race, but because she had been the one to offer it.

 

"What! No, no, no, no, no. Do you know how much trouble I can get into for testing on a Watcher?" He hadn't even had the chance to test it on a willing human. He wasn't about to do it with a law enforcer.

 

A worry now passed on Janice's face. "He knows that I didn't eat my Bizkuit. If he reports it to George, or the others, they will constantly hound me into eating that-" She threw the Bizkuits from her pocket to him. "-stuff. I can't eat it anymore. I won't. Not when it's not helping me, and when it sucks to eat, but when it could go to another Talker who actually needs it." She let out a hard sigh. "And who knows, maybe he might be the first to be cured." Less of a cure and more of a blend vaccine, but all the same. "And if he dies… I won't be exposed."

 

It was almost horrifying to hear that come out of somebody's mouth who you would think is so innocent. Really just proves how far the human race (and he supposed Talker race) has come.

 

Murphy let out a long, exasperated sigh. Because this man knew, he'd be putting him and Janice in a very revealing position. It might slip that he was working on a cure, and then it would be a shitshow from there. If he did decide to test this man with the vaccine, it could go four ways.

 

It would either kill him, and get George, the rest of the Watchers, Warren, Doc, 10K, basically everyone on his tail about what he was doing. He would then be exposed, and his plan to save himself and the world would vanish. If the man lived, then he would either be cured and under Murphy's control; cured and not under his control; or remain exactly the same as before. If it were the first one to happen, he'd be able to control the man and not let him slip the information out into the public. If it were either of the other two, Murphy and his plan would be doomed. It was a tough situation, with four ways it could go, and only one he liked.

 

After a moments worth of thinking, and a quick glance to the man sprawled limply across the metal chair, Murphy made up his mind. "Fine, fine. We'll- try the vaccine on him." It was the only one that could end in his favor. He had to make that choice. He had to.

 

Janice let out a squeal of delight, obviously excited about his choice. "Alright, where do we start?" Murphy froze for a second, keeping his eyes trained on the man, before looking at Janice.

 

"We start by you leaving. You'll draw attention and I, " He straightened up, pulling at the caller of his jacket. "-tend to work better by myself."  A look of disappointment crossed her face, but she nodded in agreement and made her way to the door. Once she was gone, Murphy hopped up to lock it, before quickly making his way to the man.

 

Just in case the guy wanted to escape when he woke, or if he turned feral, he'd have to keep him in restraints. One thing that he had never done when testing on someone, but it was a necessary precaution he had to take.

 

"Alright, alright. You got this. Might just be on trial for murder, but you can hide it, right?" He couldn't help that he blamed Janice for this whole mess. Why in the world would she think to bring the Watcher to him? He didn't know what to do with the guy.

 

He hurriedly made his way to the vaccine to prepare for the first trial. He couldn't believe he had got himself in this situation, or more-so Janice had dragged him into the situation. Once he had the supplies needed, he clumsily made it over to the man, nearly flinging himself into the seat to get it done as quickly as possible. Just because he locked the door didn't mean anything. Rather, it would just add more suspicion on him, so the longer he kept it locked, the longer he was putting himself at risk.

 

Going through the steps once again, the man started to wake up in the middle of it, throwing Murphy off balance from what he was doing.

 

"Hey! What are you-hey, get off of me!" The man started to thrash, kicking his legs at Murphy, but to no avail it had no effect on Murphy.

 

"I'm just-trying to…" The man almost threw him to the ground, but he held on, grabbing the man's right arm and finishing the process. "…help you." The injection made its way into the man's bloodstream, a mixture of fear and shock displayed on his face.

 

"What did you just inject into me? What did you do?!" He panicked, yelling at Murphy before he started to calm, something that shouldn't have happened unless something was working. Or not working, but he'd have to see.

 

The guy blinked a couple of times, almost as if he were tired, before taking in a calm breath. It was a confusing situation, especially for Murphy before he started to feel the presence of the man in the back of his mind. So, it had worked. He could feel the man, could possibly control the man, with the vaccine.

 

A smug grin pulled in the corners of Murphy's mouth as he watched the man, Darren, if he was correct. An almost lackadaisical air to him as he sat restrained in the chair. It wasn't by Murphy's control this time though, so he would have to work on improving that; however, for now, he had a few more things he wanted to test out.

 

With a stride in his step, he walked up to Darren, unlocking the restraints that were keeping him down. The man didn't move but only a little with a quiet smile resting on his face. Guess he wasn't fearing anything anymore.

 

"Mr. Coleman." Darren's attention was quickly adverted to him, but not in the way 10K had done when Murphy had used his name the first time. Rather, it was a more dazed process, as Darren slowly blinked at him. Mindless, as some would say.

 

Finding that Darren showed no threat towards him, Murphy sat down in front of him, gazing into the man's eyes. Cassandra's had turned a goldish color when he had bitten her, but Darren's seemed to turn only a little at the bottom. It was barely noticeable unless you were looking very closely for it, which he presumed none would. The vaccine seemed to be working in his favor already.

 

Considering what to do next, Murphy brought his hand up, almost as if he were to wave at someone, watching as Darren mimicked the action. Finding joy in the little interaction, Murphy brought his other hand up in the same motion, which Darren copied yet again. With narrowing eyes, and another smirk on his face, he quickly threw his hands into his lap; Darren doing so just as quickly.

 

Now, he had to test out another thing. Murphy tilted his head back, a proud expression mixed with his smug smile lined his face as he stared at Darren. The man was helplessly at his control now, and he could make him do anything. A scary but also intriguing thought. Good thing it was in proper hands.

 

Without lifting his hands this time, he commanded Darren to put both hands together, almost in a praying motion, and out in front of him.

 

Move.

 

Darren followed command, hands swiftly making their way up in front of him, the dazed, lifeless look always present. A giddy joy piled into Murphy at what he was able to do again, as he yet again sent a command at Darren. This time, however, Darren stood abruptly in front of Murphy. Hands still together and in front of him, Darren bowed down in a way they do in Ninja movies. He then settled back into the metal chair; eyes trained on Murphy.

 

It was working perfectly. Well, semi-perfectly. If he was able to get them to act normally until he decided to take control over them (full control or only partial) then the vaccine would be complete to distribute. For now, it needed work.

 

Murphy stood, gathering Darren by the shoulder and pulling him through the room. "Good job, Mr. Coleman." He started to escort him to the corner of the room, out of sight from the windows. "But," He drew out, "I can't send you out there just yet." He turned Darren to him, the man complying like he had no brain at all in his head.

 

"I mean, look at you. No offense, but you're not really lookin' on the living side." Darren just looked back at him, the spaceless but peaceful look that made Murphy wonder if there really was a brain in the guy's head. "We'll fix that though." Murphy patted him on the shoulder before setting him into the corner.

 

It wasn't even a moment after until he heard someone pound on the door.

 

Darn. He forgot he locked the door.

 

Cursing under his breath, he grabbed Darren and threw him a little too aggressively into a locker. The tall, thin metal barely accommodating for the middle-aged man's size. Making sure that Darren was nestled in, he pushed him all the way to the back of the metal, shushing him.

 

"Just stay quiet, yeah? You can do that right?" He kept his voice low, wild eyes scanning him over. Darren, however, gave no recognition of what was being said. "Of course you don't answer." He muttered, closing the door tightly and making his way to the lab entrance.

 

The pounding continued, a now muffled male voice leaking through. "Hello? Anyone in there?" 10K.

 

An agitated sigh slipped through his lips as he pulled his hand across him face, the other placed on his hip. Great, just what he needed. He didn't want 10K on his tail, and just seeing Murphy in here was going to start some suspicion. Shaking his head, knowing there was no way he could just hide, he opened the door widely to reveal a distressed looking 10K.

 

"Yes?" He was always good at hiding things with sarcasm.

 

10K looked taken aback at first, blinking a couple of times before coming to his senses and scanning Murphy as well as the room behind him. Murphy kept his eyes trained on 10K, hoping he wouldn't reveal anything that way. "Can I help you?"

 

10K's eyes shot back to Murphy, narrowing slightly as he looked him over. "I heard screaming." Way to just go straight for the money-shot.

 

"Yeah, and?" He'd keep this up, hoping that if he did, it would just drive 10K away.

 

"I heard screaming from here." 10K amended, eyes once again looking around the room. He went to push through to look around, and Murphy made no advance to stop him. If he did, that would probably look pretty bad on him.

 

"Not from here. It's just been me." He really hoped 10K hadn't been monitoring the place.

 

10K ignored him for the moment, carefully making his way around the room, observant eyes scanning any and every crevice. He started from the door, slowly making his way over to the metal chair. Trying not to alert 10K of his discomfort, he quietly sucked in a sharp breath, praying to whatever was out there to not let 10K notice the syringe.

 

He was sure the deity out there was just looking at Murphy's life as some game.

 

10K slowed, eyeing the syringe and antiseptic. Titling his head slightly, 10K rounded the other side of the table, scanning wildly around the room for whatever was in the syringe. "What were you doing in here?" He picked up the nervous tone of 10K's voice as he suspiciously watched Murphy, probably looking for anything off about him. Murphy wouldn't give that to him. He still needed 10K, and he wasn't about to blow his chances.

 

Not with biting him again or trying to inject him. He'd do the latter later…after he had the perfected cure. "What does it look like I was doing?" Asking questions over questions always help in some cases.

 

10K finally picked up the syringe, bringing it in front of his face to inspect it. Murphy titled his head slightly, hoping he'd find some way to get out of this one. There had to be some way he could worm his way out. Right? He had done so before.

 

"Experiments." Quite simple but hit right on the mark. He hated how observant and knowledgeable this whole group had become over the years.

 

To cover it up, Murphy let out a laugh, feigned to hide how nervous he was. "You do realize I'm not the only one that comes in here?"

 

"Why do you come in here?" 10K shot back rather quickly. Either the kid thought he was close with his own suspicions; nervous that they may be right; or thought he was about to get Murphy to slip up.

 

Well, Murphy wasn't going to let the last one happen.

 

He rounded his way to the table, closing in the distance between him and 10K, glancing around the room everywhere but the corner Darren was in. Instinctively, 10K took a step back, syringe still in hand as if he were to use it as a weapon. "Geez kid. I'm not planning to stick you with…whatever was in there."

 

He had to calm the situation down. 10K thinking he was about to inject him was not good. Especially when he would actually have to inject him later. Well, he wasn't, but someone else was. Still, all the same when he made the vaccine and was controlling the person who was injecting it.

 

"I just come in here for peace sometimes. I…" He tried his best to put an inquisitive, innocent face on. " It's just so relaxing here when no one's around. Don't know why, but it is for me." He added after seeing 10K's face screw up a bit. Probably some memories of Murphy working in a lab.

 

When had he done that again? Just in Murphy Town, right? Kurian was the one that worked in the lab with La Reina. Given he had been assisting, but a totally different scenario. It still had exposed him for trying to take control of people though.

 

10K broke his gaze on Murphy, inspecting the room once again. "Not when someone is screaming." He mumbled before he dropped the syringe back down onto the table, going over to the corner Murphy had purposefully avoided looking in. He mentally grumbled. Why even try when they look there anyway?

 

10K made his way around the corner, checking every part before making his way to the lockers. He hesitated on the first, this time reaching for his pistol that was strapped to his side. Recently, no one had to use them. Zombies had died down from coming to Altura, and the Talkers were all tame. Regardless, the kid looked at this as a threat, as he held the gun in his left hand, his antler prosthetic reaching up to open the door. He paused for another second, before throwing the door wide open.

 

Nothing.

 

"What are you doing?" He said as if he was reprimanding a child, which in this case, it felt like it.

 

10K said nothing in return, already heading to the one beside it. He didn't stall as much on this one, throwing the metal door open like the last, nothing revealing itself just like last time. He only had two more before he found Darren.

 

Figuring that this couldn't go on any longer, he made his way over to 10K swiftly. 10K already having suspicions on this whole situation was leaving him more at a disadvantage, and he did not want that happening. Once behind him, he grabbed his shoulder, forcing 10K to look at him. Despite 10K tensing, or already being on high alert around Murphy, he kept his face neutral.

 

"What. Are. You. Doing?" He emphasized this time, trying to act as if he needed an answer. 10K shook his head, breaking free from Murphy's grip and making his way back to the metal chair. Good. He needed to get him that way, or at least away from where mindless Darren was hiding.

 

"I told you that this is my safe place. You don't need a gun in here." Amusement filled his tone as he motioned towards the weapon. "What? Think I'm experimenting on zombies? Creating Blends? I'm not a mad scientist, if you haven't noticed already." It was risky to reveal the Blend part of his plan, but he saw how quickly it made 10K uncomfortable, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

 

"You better not be." 10K's tone was harsh, the kind of tone he rarely heard 10K speak in. Really, 10K didn't speak much anyway, so it wasn't often you'd get much of a tone from him; although, when he did, harsh would appear seldom.

 

In defense, Murphy put his hands up, trying to show that he was being sincere. He wasn't, but 10K didn't need to know that. "I'm not." He lowered his hands slowly, before he went to speak. "There wasn't anything to show that I was."

 

10K raised an eyebrow, gaze lingering back over to the syringe. "Those aren't mine. I'm not the only one that comes in here." 10K rolled his eyes, vision sweeping the room one more time before swallowing hard and nodding.

 

"Alright…I'll go-" He motioned towards the door as if it were to finish his sentence. Murphy got the gist of it though.

 

"Tell me where the screams came from, yeah?" It was almost one last jab as he escorted 10K out the door. 10K just nodded his head in return, confusion written over his face as he made his way out towards the field. Every so often he'd throw glances over his shoulder at Murphy; it only stopping when he was out of sight.

 

He's probably going to circle back around and keep a lookout. Wouldn't be the first time 10k was curious and kept on it despite what was being told. Murphy sighed, shaking his head as he made his way back into the lab. Might as well rest there for a while, build up less suspicion doing nothing then taking Darren back out when 10K could be around.

 

This was going to be a long few more weeks of perfecting the cure.

 

-----line break-------

 

He was right, as per usual, that it had been a long few weeks. 10K had obviously notified Red of the incident, and from there, the two had been watching him like hawks anytime they'd pass by. Not disturbing at all.

 

He had gotten used to it, expecting to check for them before he started to work on the cure, which hadn't been an easy process either. Neither had the Darren issue, but he had resolved that, and no, not in a bad way. In a…less than perfect way.

 

He couldn't have kept Darren in the lab but sending him back to his job was way out the window at this point. The guy didn't even speak, almost like the vaccine had taken away the use of his vocal cords. Or any coherent thought of his own.

 

Supposedly, the vaccine wasn't as perfect as he had first thought, so if he decided to send Darren back out there, it wouldn't work out in Murphy's favor. So instead, Janice was called to clean up her mess, which she gladly accepted. It had been arranged that Janice would take Darren back to her place and keep him there. He would be notified as missing of course, but Murphy knew that Janice would be able to handle the situation. He didn't really care though. As long as it didn't interfere with his plans (and she promised it wouldn't) everything was going to be fine. So, with the Darren and Janice problem out of the way, he could focus on his more prominent problem.

 

The cure.

 

Which surprisingly, had been going awfully well these past weeks. It did take time to improve, a lot more time than he hoped for, but in the end, he successfully got it to work out the way he needed it to. That is, for both the Talkers and the humans. It still had been tricky to get a willing, reliable test subject for the first improved vaccine trial, but somehow Janice found a way to solve that problem, and in all honesty, it scared him.

 

He had no idea what he had gotten into when he asked her if she wanted to be the first cured. Janice was scary. Not like Warren scary, no, that was entirely different. Not like 10K's scary where he'd snipe you if need be; or Addy's with her deadly look and aim with a bat and gun. It wasn't even like Doc's scary, where you wouldn't know what hit you if you even managed to get him to that boiling point. No, Janice's scary was like mentally insane, I'll do what I need to do whether it's good or bad, kind of scary. Even the fact that she blindly followed Murphy, helping him out with whatever, seemed to make goosebumps run up his arms.

 

He shivered. Yeah, Janice scary was definitely a new level.

 

 Regardless, it worked out. Those that had been tested had successfully taken to the cure, and it worked just the way Murphy wanted it to. They hadn't even realized that they were his blends, much less that they were cured. Luckily, in that predicament, Murphy was able to hold off the news a lot longer. He had told all those injected to keep quiet until he saw what the vaccine had done to them, which he already knew was working.

 

So far, twenty people and Talkers were injected, all cured and all under his control. He could feel every single one of their presences in the back of his mind, and he would be lying if he didn't say it was overbearing at times. But what needed to be done was done, and he wasn't about to sit here and complain when only more of it would come. He'd save the complaining for later.

 

Eleven of the twenty were scientists and doctors, while the other nine were Talkers and occupants of Altura. Those eleven were under Murphy's control, while the nine were left to wander at the moment. He didn't have a use for them now, but he would later, thus he'd have to save them for that time. Everyone vaccinated helped after all.

 

With those eleven working in the lab on the cure, Murphy would stay out of it. Well, not out of it as in their head. He was the one controlling them to do it after all. Rather, he would stay out of the lab, commanding them to make the cure from afar. It brought less attraction to him, and it allowed him to reveal that the cure was in progress without having any ties to it. He allowed one of the blend scientists to tell George, who had announced the joyous news after that, and no one had mentioned Murphy's involvement other than his blood in the cure.

 

So, with people not knowing that he was making the cure, it was all starting to fall into place. Especially today. The new and much needed cure had been made and found to work completely, George there to watch the process. When she approved of it, and saw how much more was already made, another idea had come into her mind.

 

Murphy wouldn't have known about this until later, but he had just happened to be ease dropping with one of the Altura blends, listening through their ears. George and the cured human (Eliza) had been discussing what to do next when George suddenly brought up that they should show the world the vaccine through a celebration and on radio. She had insisted that the first to be cured during the celebration were the ones that had been there since the beginning, and suddenly when Murphy had heard that his breath caught in his throat.

 

They were going to give it to the Operation Bitemark gang?

 

He wasn't going to lie and say he wasn't planning on doing that. He was, but not this early. He figured that they could wait just a little while into the cure, just to make sure that it still had the desired effects. Just until he knew it would actually work, and not kill them later down the line. Now, he supposed, his whole idea of that had to be changed. George thought the cure was an actual cure, and while it still was, it was still more of a blend vaccine. How the team would react to that (and he didn't mean them finding out) he wasn't quite so sure.

 

It wasn't like he wanted them to die. Far from it actually. Warren and Doc meant the most to him, and to think that this injection might kill them was a terrible thought. He didn't want that to happen, couldn't let that happen, but knew it might happen anyways. Further down the line, they would have to get the vaccine. More-so to ensure the safety of the human race, the blend race. So, he couldn't fret if it were to come down to that one way or another. He'd just be holding the inevitable back, which would make George's plan the best. To get it done and over with.

 

Problem was, she'd offer them a choice.

 

She would ask them what they wanted to do, if they wanted to take it, and decide what happens from there. If they refused, that would strain Murphy's plan more, probably make it impossible for it to happen. If they agreed, and did in fact take the vaccine, he would be able to control them and keep them from foiling his plan.

 

He could only see one where it was better, even if that one would run the risk of them dying.

 

They wouldn't though. They were all tough, and one vaccine, one injection, wasn't going to kill them. They'd be fine, he knew they would be. They had to be because if any one of them did die from the blend vaccine, it would ruin what they built. Ruin what they had survived for, for ten years now. Just by a simple cure. That didn't sound like any of the Operation Bitemark crew. To go out like that was more-so unrealistic than anything.

 

So, to know that they wouldn't die from this, he figured this was the best option.

 

He pulled his new (as new as it could get) jacket closer to him, shielding Murphy from the winter's harsh wind as he rounded a corner. He wore brown lace-up boots, with baggy, slightly ripped jeans. His black, plain shirt covered mostly by the plaid jacket he wore. They didn't have good gloves here, but he had managed to find a beanie a while back, woven brown wool with only one stain he couldn't manage to get out. It was alright for the winter in Canada, of course he'd like it if he could find something warmer. For now though, this was all he got.

 

He dragged his feet, head slightly turned to the ground to keep the wind from blowing on his face as he made his way down the side of the buildings. Some of the citizens were roaming the streets, other cooped up inside their homes, all of them bundled up in whatever warmth they could find. Today, it was peaceful, and despite the panicking news he had just received, he felt calm for a moment. But the world hated it when he was calm, so something always had to happen.

 

He barely pulled his head up in time before he crashed into someone. It didn't knock either to the floor, rather just pushed one another back until they were both in defense positions. Before he could see who he had crashed into (or who crashed into him) he let out an indignant "Hey!", gaining his footing once more.

 

When he was able to focus on who had bumped into him, he first noticed their black combat boots, short and smaller, which had a pair of blue jeans tucked into it. The female, as he could see now, also had a black shirt, lace in the front of it in an odd design that revealed a little skin by her neck. His eyes trailed up a little farther to meet with George's excited face, short hair covered underneath a grey beanie.

 

"Murphy." She sounded both exasperated and excited, as if she was looking everywhere for him in the cold weather. "Hey."

 

"Hi." He replied back, straightening his jacket. He pulled his head up once again, glancing at her with an expecting face. He wouldn't reveal why he was expecting news from her though; rather, he'd let her guess that it's the way she addressed him.

 

"Can we-" She pointed to the main building where the vote had been held many months ago, "-talk?" She finished, looking back to him.

 

"Yeah, sure." He wasn't expecting anything bad from this. He didn't think 10K had informed her of the incident that had occurred, and he didn't think it had anything to do with his involvement in the vaccine. If anything, she would probably tell him about the 'celebration'. They crossed the field rather quickly, hastily avoiding anyone in their path, and letting a sigh of relief leave them when they were in the building. It wasn't too much warmer in here than it was out there, but every little bit of it helped.

 

Murphy made his way to a chair folded up in the corner. He dragged it out, unfolded it, and sat down with ease, taking every bit of time he could to relax. His head had been killing him recently, and it wasn't just because of the cold weather. The blends' minds were very active, that was for sure. He tried not to focus on it much, just keep them and their conscience in the back of his mind, but it was still irritating to hear.

 

"You alright?" George sat beside him; her own chair pulled up so that she could lean on the back of it while looking at Murphy. Slight concern creased her face, and he realized that he had been holding his head in his hands to compensate for the pain. He looked up, hand falling to his side as he glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Yeah. Fine." It was mumbled more than spoken, but George took it, nodding her head as she stood up.

 

"So," She drawled out, clapping her hands together as she spun around slightly. Guess she's more excited than he thought. He had to guess it was because this whole apocalypse was finally about to come to an end after a decade of it. "Have you heard the news?"

 

He had, but if he suddenly brought it up, he was afraid that it would alert her to a bigger picture. Just play dumb. That always worked, didn't it? At least, in most movies it did.

 

"Um." He racketed his brain to come up with something, hand running across his forehead. "They finally got a decent bar?"

 

George rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she placed her hands on her hips. "No, Murphy. This isn't your Limbo."

 

"Still wish they'd get one." He needed a good drink right about now.

 

"Well, no. Not yet at least." She came closer to him, settling back down into her chair. "I know you know about the cure."

 

Sucking in a long breath, he narrowed his eyes at her from underneath his hand. "Yeah, I heard. Had to get my blood from somewhere."

 

George smiled at him, despite his snarky remark. " Great, we're on the same page then." She scooted closer, resting her hands back on the back of the chair. "Listen, I was thinking that maybe…maybe the original Operation Bitemark should get it first. They have been with you ever since 3 A.Z., so it would only be right for them to be the first to receive it."

 

It would be if it were just a cure. He hated how his subconscious liked to contradict the plans that were made. He needed them to be vaccinated first. Cure or blend vaccine, it didn't matter. Either way he'd have to suck it up and deal with it. They were going to get it; first or last.

 

Seemed like first was coming out on top though.

 

He straightened himself up in the chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest as his feet knocked slightly with the legs of the chair. "And you need me to what? Contact them? Tell them this?"

 

George sighed, biting her lip as she looked into his eyes. God, it was like she was staring into his soul, trying to find his deepest secrets that he was keeping. "I got CZ to get ahold of Addy. He sent a signal to Doc and Warren, too. They should be coming back soon." She looked away, glancing out the window to the citizens, all milling around hunkered down in sets of warm clothes. "When they get here, I thought it would be nice for you to tell them. Seeing as how they spent all that time dragging, you’re ass across America and back."

 

Murphy rolled his eyes. Why did they always have to talk to him like he was a child?

 

"Yeah, yeah." He waved her off, standing from his foldable chair. "I'll tell 'em when they get here."

 

"Great." She beamed up at him, taking her chair back to the corner and folding it up. To be nice (they all wanted him to act that way anyway, right?) he followed suit, folding his chair and placing it back in the corner. "Oh yeah." She turned back to him, a cheeky smile lining her face.

 

"Oh great, here it comes." Another chore or another rant? Pick your poison.

 

"10K hasn't been told yet." The amusement leaked through her voice as she raised her eyebrows cockily at him. Ah no, no, no. They were not about to make him do that.

 

He shook his head, wagging his finger in front of her. "Ah, no. That is one thing I will not do."

 

Her face turned challenging, glaring at him. "Simon and I got the others. You just have one. Shouldn't be that hard."

 

He laughed. "Shouldn't be that hard? For one, I was the one that had to carry the cure so that you all could be saved. I did all the hard work here. You're welcome." He turned around dramatically, throwing his head back before looking at her. "Besides, we don't like each other, remember? I'm sure he won't be happy when I come pounding his way with news of a vaccine."

 

He definitely wouldn't.

 

"Oh c'mon." She rolled her eyes at him again, probably preparing to go into yet another speech. " You ran away more times than enough. You never made anything easy to say you did all the hard work."

 

Yeah right. She had no idea how much work he had to do. How scared he had been or angry. They all wanted him to act as the Savior of Humanity even when the world had never been in his favor. Always taking from him. Killing those that he cared for. Killing Lucy! The work and trauma in everything that he went through. They all had no idea. Not a clue!

 

He bit his lip though, repressing yelling at her. Maybe if she had been in his position, she'd have a different point of view on life. A life he was going to change. A world made better by his hand.

 

"Believe what you want. I know where I stand." He huffed out, turning from her and rolling his eyes. If he didn't look her way, he might just get out of here without a screaming match. A moment of silence passed as Murphy kept his back toward her, and George stayed in her position, unmoving and impatient.

 

He put his hands on his hips, willing himself to look at her as he gave an answer. "Fine. I'll tell him." He brushed passed her, a little more aggressively than necessary, but he didn't care. He was allowed to get angry, especially when people under minded everything that he had been through. Especially when they just brushed how the world had screwed him right under the rug, never to be brought up again. He wasn't going to take that. Not after what he had been through, what he had done, and what he is doing now.

 

"See, was that so hard?" It was the normal air, a slight hint of teasing, that seemed to set him off the edge farther.

 

"Yes." It was a harsh whisper, however it still echoed throughout the rather empty room as he opened the glass door to the left. The winter's wind chilling him to the core again, causing an unwanted shiver to pass through his body.

 

I told them I'd freeze my balls off here.

 

Why couldn't the Z's dislike warm places, huh? Why'd they have to pick to stay out of cold places; migrate to the warmer parts instead? Murphy would much rather be at the beach than in freaking Canada, but the world never cared much for his thoughts anyway. Little or big, they all fell on deaf ears.

 

The door bounced lightly behind him as he trudged through the sidewalks. His head now raised to keep a lookout for anyone coming his way, but also leaving him with the wind prickling at his skin. The warmth that he had received in the building was now being used, reacting with the cold to make it even worse. He pulled the beanie down farther, his hair inevitably being smushed done in the process.

 

Did he mention he hated the winter?

 

He did, and despite it all, he manage to keep focus on that thought as he made his way to his destination. Thinking about the vaccine, the group, Lucy, or even the adventures that he had been on in this apocalyptic world only seemed to drag him farther into a dark spot; rekindling his anger as if a spark had caught on dry leaves. Just allowing himself to hate the wintertime seemed to be the only thing that wouldn't do so. Instead, it sort of reminded him of Pre-Z. Back when it would snow and be a tiring chore to shovel the deep snow out of the way just so you could drive. Even then you'd have to be careful of ice, watching your speed and how you maneuver correctly to avoid crashing into a streetlamp.

 

Yes, winter had not been his favorite, and probably never will. He thanked his hatred for that though, keeping his mind busy as he walked to where he would find 10K. He and Red had set up a little home to the outskirts of Altura. It was close enough to town, but right next to the woods as well. Whether they decided to stay there because of the fond passion they had of the wilderness, or just purely because they wanted to keep watch for any danger, Murphy was left in the dark about. Either way, it didn't matter. His mission (Yay! Another one of those.) was to tell 10K to meet up with the group upon arrival of Altura. He supposed he could just tell 10K now about the celebration, given the guy probably already heard the news of the vaccine, but he figured he'd hold it off so all four of them could hear. Murphy didn't want to miss their reactions either, and he was sure he wouldn't.

 

In due time, he made his way to the house. Wood panels finally replaced for the winter so that they wouldn't be living in a moldy house. The railing lining the front porch to the door was also removed, seeing as how the last time he walked by it had been nothing worth keeping. The wood had been decaying, bugs inhabiting the little holes carved by the carpenter bees or even just holes of their own made from years of disaster and apocalypse.

 

A sign, homemade and hung on the edge of the porch where the railing was supposed to be, advised to 'watch your step' on the first step. Doing so, Murphy hopped up one, noticing a caved in spot of a footprint along the middle, the moist dirt below revealed from the hole made. Murphy guessed they had to replace that too. He wondered why they even decided to live here if the place was falling down, possibly on the brink of collapsing with slight movement. He carefully made his way to the door, keeping a lookout for any possible 'house sinkholes' that would cause him to fall into.

 

Once at the door, he knocked twice, always in a humanistic way to alert he wasn't a Z, or literally anything else that were after people at this point in the apocalypse. Ugh, it was definitely all becoming too much. Just pick one already!

 

It didn't take long before the door cracked open slightly, a small figure peeking out the door. Her brown hair was tied back in two braids, acting as a clip as she let the rest fall to her back. Her brown jacket covered a plain gray long-sleeved shirt, her now signature 'red' look abandoned. Like most, she wore baggy jeans over black combat boots, hoping to keep warm with that. She didn't wear a hat like most others but given the type of people who lived in this house, he'd have to assume that she gave it to someone who needed it more.

 

Red's face fell from worried to confused as she scanned Murphy over, opening the door slightly more to reveal herself in front of him. She stepped out a bit, hand still resting on the door, left foot inside while her right poked out slightly in front of it. Her other arm rested along the frame of the door, blocking Murphy from coming into the house.  Yeah, he still figured she wouldn't fully trust him.

 

Even though he couldn't come into the house, he was able to see the country type set up that they had going on. Whatever leftover furniture that was in the house had been reused or cleaned up, providing for a homier type living. There was a hall that most likely led to a bathroom and bedroom (only one of the two that worked properly), and a doorway to the left of the couch leading to a kitchen. Other than the crappy wallpaper design that made Murphy imagine an old, crazy cat lady had lived here, or the wood floors that stopped at the tile in the kitchen, he couldn't see much else beyond that.

 

"Murphy?" She greeted, but it came more out as a question. The worry from before evident in her eyes, but not quite making itself appear on her face. "What are you doing here?"

 

He huffed out a sigh, looking back to where he had just come from, then returning his sight to her. Why did he have to be put in this position? "Is Hook Hand home?" He hadn't called 10K that to his face, and also knew the name was out of date given the kid had an antler as a hand now, but he still used it.

 

The worry and confusion slipped from her face, becoming annoyed instead as she shook her head at him. "No, he went out on a scouting mission with some other guys a while ago. Went to check to see if any Z's needed mercied, or anyone else needed saving." Red glanced him up and down, taking in his irritated posture which had gone slightly slack due to the relief of not having to confront 10K. "Why?"

 

"When he comes back, just tell him to meet up in the center of the town in three days." He sent a glance over his shoulder, deciding whether or not that was enough information to just leave her with. It probably wasn't so he continued. "Family reunion or somethin'."

 

If anything, that would probably get 10K to come. Not the vaccine or celebration, but Doc, Addy, and Warren. Given, Murphy assumed they'd all come back for that at this point. With no mission they had started to come even closer despite going separate ways at the moment.

 

"Okay…" She started off slowly, eyebrow raised curiously, but he didn't let her finish as he hopped down the steps.

 

"Tell Lefty I said, 'Hi'. " He called as he picked up a light jog after that, just glad to be away from that house.

 

---line break----

 

It took two days for all members of the group to arrive. Mostly, they were held up by Addy, who had been heading to Illinois to explore around; probably pay her respects to Cassandra, reminisce where Lucy grew up, and of course, kill zombies. Regardless, she made it back a couple hours after Warren had, jogging up to them with black converse, ripped blue jeans, and a gray shirt with the word "Believe" fading on the front. A thin, dark pink jacket hung on her shoulders, a rip on the right side made by none other than a Z.

 

Coming close enough to be heard, she shivered glancing around to Doc, Warren, Murphy, George, and one of the blend scientist Murphy had decided should probably come. Even though no one knew that blends were in Altura, still thinking that the cure was simply that, he brought her along to discuss the further implications of the cure. Advise them of some things and help them take into precaution what was to happen. It wasn't like he would be offering a choice, although this did seem like it, but more of a…precaution.

 

"Burr." Addy brought her hands up to her shoulders as she stopped between Doc and Warren. "Canada got a lot colder since I've been gone." She pulled the jacket up farther as Doc pulled her into a side hug, both warming her up and greeting her from her long time away.

 

"Good to see you again."  She hugged him back, a soft smile on her face as she glanced up at him.

 

"Right back at you. How's it been with the Water Keepers?" She received a small laugh in return as the older man pulled away to look at her fully.

 

"Oh, definitely better than last time." She rolled her eyes playfully at him, bumping against his shoulder with the remark of, "I better not hear about more possessions."  before giving Warren a hug.

 

"You and Cooper good?" Addy kept Warren at arm's length, staring at her as she kept her voice gentle.

 

" It's been nice." Warren dreamily said, as if it were a mere fantasy to have a day go by that was nice. " It felt like I could finally relax."

 

"You deserve it. You feeling better about…?" Addy trailed off, worried that bringing it up might set off something. Murphy knew better though. Warren was tough, and after some thought about being dead, she'd come around to it.

 

"Yeah." She nodded her head, the tiniest bit choked up as she responded. She pulled out of her hug with Addy, bringing the girl back to her side as she looked at George, Murphy, and the scientist.

 

Warren greeted them with a head shake, a small smile lining her face as she looked at Murphy, before staring suspiciously at the newcomer. "And you are?"  She nodded her head at the short woman in her late forties, glancing up at Murphy for an answer.

 

Of course she'd think this had something to do with him.

 

It did, of course, but it was like they always knew. What if George had been the one to call her? To be fair, Murphy hadn't actually been the one 'to call her' either. He made the scientist (Hazel Zelis) ask George if she were allowed to speak to the group about the vaccine. It seemed appropriate at the time, and he hoped it was the right option.

 

"Don't look at me." He held up his hands in defense, pointing to George instead. Warren adverted her curious expression to said woman, as George stared excitedly back to her.

 

"Once everyone gets here, I'll tell." Murphy was glad. He'd rather they not explain things twice, or three times over. Warren nodded her head, gaze lingering back to Hazel, untrusting of the woman.

 

It didn't take too much longer before the others arrived. Citizen Z came their way first. Heavy gray shirt peeking slightly out from under his black hoodie, paired with gray cargo pants tucked neatly inside combat boots. His beard, grown out slightly more, was groomed neatly as only a small portion of his brown hair poked out from his dark green beanie, tilted slightly on his head as if he put it on in a hurry. A little way behind him, 10K and Red were hurrying over, both suited in similar attire to the rest. Red seemed to be wearing the same thing as before, this time her hair was kept undone, while 10K seemed to also be wearing his usual attire as well. That is, if the dirt stains at the cuffs of his jeans, and the small rip found in the cuff of his camo jacket were anything to go by.

 

"Sorry I'm late. JZ wanted to come, but I told him to stay with Kaya. To say the least, he threw a fit." Simon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, as he slowed to a walk over to them.

 

"No worries. Glad you could make it." George smiled at him, Simon smiling back at the reassurance.

 

Murphy turned to 10K, as he and Red also slowed to a stop beside the group. "What's your excuse?" He asked, eyeing 10K as he stared blankly at Murphy. That's just gotta be his natural facial expression. 10K shrugged in return, seeming that that was a good enough answer to the rest of the group, they all returned back to the lively chatter now with being back together. It only made Murphy roll his eyes, seeing as how they brushed it off so quickly.

 

Before the conversation of the vaccine could begin, Doc engulfed 10K into a hug, doing the same for Red as Addy walked up to the bunch, Warren following closely behind her. Addy hugged Simon before making her way over to where Doc was standing with 10K and Red.

 

"What's your count at now?" Addy asked as Warren also hugged Simon, asking him how Kaya and JZ were besides the tantrum.

 

"9, 973." Despite keeping his voice level, if you knew him well enough, you could definitely hear the excitement leak through his voice. Well, that and embarrassment. "It's been a slow couple months." And of course that had been the thing he was embarrassed for. Not getting a 'decent' amount of Z kills within the months.

 

"Eh, 962 kills in seven months. Still gotta say that's pretty good." Addy complemented as Warren walked fully up to them.

 

"You're almost there. You'll probably get those twenty-seven while we're still here." Warren said, cupping her hand on his cheek before standing beside Doc again.

 

"Then we'll crack out some drinks and celebrate!" Doc nearly cheered, causing them to laugh, which was nice in all honesty. It had been forever since he had a real laugh, since they all probably had a real laugh, and it was nice to finally share it together.

 

"Speaking of celebrations…" George drew their attention towards her, the excitement on her face before only intensified as she gestured to Hazel who had stood perfectly still the pass few minutes they had been talking.

 

Relax.

 

She did just that, her posture falling slightly as she looked more human than on high alert. Luckily, the group didn't seem to notice the off change of how she held herself, probably assuming that there were weirder things out there than this.

 

"I want to first introduce you to Dr. Zelis. She's one of the best scientists we got here, leveling a little ways below Sun Mei." Dr. Zelis gave a shy smile (not by Murphy's command) as she moved her round, black rimmed glasses farther up her face.

 

Warren extended out her hand, one of the first times Murphy had actually seen her do so, as she offered Hazel a handshake, which she gladly took. "Lieutenant Roberta Warren." Hazel greeted, nodding her head at Warren. Taken aback by the sudden introduction of her name, she faltered for a second, before pulling her hand back to her side, an odd smile lining her face.

 

"Yes…" The lack of trust before seemed to be made clear a little more now as she seemed to go over all the possibilities as to how the woman knew her name. Murphy would have told her not to worry about the woman, that Warren was actually fairly popular around here (for the wrong and right reasons), but Hazel beat him to it. He could have stopped her, but it didn't really matter.

 

"You're very well-known here." Hazel cleared up, causing Warren to relax a little, a little sense of pride forming in her smile.

 

"Really?" She asked, glancing at George and Murphy for full clarification. George nodded back, agreeing with Hazel. Murphy didn't say anything in return. He'd rather not burst her bubble this early on with how people looked at her. Some of the Estes-support groups that formed around here had taken a liking to hating Warren for who she was. They hated him as well, given he was someone who was a friend of and helper of Talkers, but he ignored it just fine. He was pretty sure Warren wouldn't be too happy about it, seeing as how fresh the subject was.

 

"Yeah." Hazel continued. "If I hadn't been studying all of you, I'd still know more than enough." Way to not be creepy. He didn't make her say that, and he cringed internally thinking over how horrible that sounded.

 

"Studying…us…?" Now suspicion increased in Addy's tone, hand slowly making its way down to her Z-Whacker just in case.

 

"Ah, she means research. Which is what I was trying to lead up to." George cut in, thankfully keeping Hazel from talking on her own any longer. Murphy could see that she tried to speak again, but he kept her quiet by command, hoping none of the others would take that into suspicion as well.

 

 "Dr. Zelis and her team have been working on a cure for the past few months. The one Sun Mei started." She pointed her gaze to him, Simon, 10K, and Red as if asking them to prove what she was saying was true. Red nodded in return, that being the clarification they needed to continue.

 

" I went to see the first trial a couple days ago, and it actually worked. Both to a Talker and a human! The zombies didn't even bother with them, almost like they were one of them." She could see the group grimace, probably not too fond of the idea of being compared with a zombie. "Okay, not the best comparison, but effective in the least. It worked, guys! There's a lot more of it too, and I thought we could finally be able to release it to the world."

 

"What do you need us to do?" Warren had always been one to help out, whether that be saving the world or following the next mission given. There were times he'd beg to differ with the thought, but overall, Warren would always be known to do good to others. Her ways at points…eh, they weren't what Murphy would use, but then again, he had far more different strategies than any of the others.

 

"Is this where the celebration comes in?" Doc asked as if he were able to tell the future, a cheeky grin on his face.

 

"It is." George confirmed. "And the way I need your help is through it."

 

"How?" Addy spoke up, voicing what the others who had not been told of this were thinking.

 

"Kaya and I got equipment to broadcast the event live for others to hear. You know, over the radio since actually seeing the event isn't an option at the moment." Simon, who finally decided to speak, voiced in clarifying very little as to what the others' roles were in this 'celebration'.

 

"After all the time you spent on the mission, and everything you guys have done, we thought Operation Bitemark should be the ones to receive it live." A silence fell across the group as George finished.

 

Panic rose in Murphy's chest as they stayed silent, all seeming a little nervous at the idea. What if they wouldn't take it? What if they decided to say no? Why would be beyond him, but there was always a possibility.

 

"The cure?" Warren glanced from George, to Murphy, to Hazel, then back. "Like an actual cure?" Her gaze landed back on Murphy, hesitating.

 

"He had no involvement in it. It has just been my team. Anyone else who is not authorized to be in there has to be given permission, so unless he or anyone else snuck in, which is highly unlikely, it has not been tainted with." He did command her to say that then, because he had in fact come into the lab a few times in the beginning. However, with the reassurance from the doctor herself, the group seemed to relax. 10K being the last as he eyed Hazel, his eyes narrowing as he scanned over Murphy. After a few seconds, he dropped the act, becoming relieved at what was said.

 

Great trust they have here.

 

He supposed the group assumed he deserved that though. To them, his involvement and vaccine were not two words not used in a sentence together, and both he wouldn't use around them.

 

"Why studying us though?" Addy asked, a little skeptical about the situation still, especially if they were considered 'study worthy' by a group of scientists and doctors.

 

"Well," Hazel rubbed the back of her neck, taking in a deep breath as she looked at all of them. " We were worried about the things that you have been exposed to throughout the apocalypse."

 

"Exposed to? Like other than the zombie virus?" Doc asked, panic seeping slightly into his normally relaxed voice.

 

"You haven't been exactly safe through the whole mission. I mean, Black Rainbows one out of the many that I can name." Hazel turned to her side, an old leather satchel draped across her body as she unbuckled the buckle that was nearly falling off the bag. She carefully pulled out a couple of papers, messy scribbles written down since printing hadn't been an option for years. "When I was…researching, if you would like to say, you I noticed a few--a few problems that may interfere with the cure."

 

Warren ran a hand through her long, straight black hair, before bringing it up to her face, nervously brushing her hand against it. "Problems like? You said Black Rainbow? Does the chemicals seem to play effect on it, because there've been plenty others than us that have been exposed to them?" It was what caused the Talkers to be created, so if it worked on a Talker it should work on all the others. Yeah, that had been Murphy's thought process too, until he started to think it over more. Thus, this conversation was created.

 

"Not exactly. As shown, it does work on Talkers." Hazel took a deep breath, scanning over her notes before looking up. "Let's start here.  Roberta Warren: Exposed to a mixture of chemicals during the process of trying to execute the command of Black Rainbow. Bled to death after impact due to inability to suture up quick enough. Does not, however, require a Bizkuit to remain human." Hazel put the notes to her side, intensely watching Warren as said lady shifted a little uncomfortably. " Under classification as an Enhanced Talker." 

 

Warren drew in a small breath, trying to keep her face serious rather than let fear overcome her. Murphy could tell, as she straightened up keeping her eyes on Hazel, that hearing all of it played out again wasn't something she was fond of. However, instead of voicing it out loud, she kept quiet allowing Hazel to continue.

 

"Not only that, but…" Her finger scanned through the top paper before she shoved it under the stack and looked over the next. After finding the part she needed, she pointed to it a little harshly, running her finger along it as she read through. " Estimated four to five years back, was found to have a bullet wound to the lower abdomen. The bullet was recorded to pass through Mr. Murphy before lodging itself into the Lieutenant." She looked up, glancing at everyone to see if they had their full attention on her, keeping her gaze on Murphy the longest. He willed her to read on, hoping the act wouldn't draw too much suspicion.

 

"That would also deem you as a blend as well, and that happened before Zona. We don't have any knowledge of what they did to you there..." Experiments, testing, whatever those sick, rich lunatics had in mind to use her for. "…so that is also one thing we have to factor in when taking the vaccine. Because we don't have knowledge on how this might affect you, I want you to be mindful when deciding. If you want, we can try to run trials with others, but with not knowing what happened to you at Zona, and not having the proper chemicals that you had been exposed to in the pod for Black Rainbow, it won't be exact."

 

Warren held her breath, quick to respond with a firm, "No." as looked down to the ground. With a little thought as the silence drew on, she picked up her head again, eyes determined as she stared at Hazel. "I rather not have anyone go through that because of me."

 

Hazel nodded, shifting the notes in her hands as she concentrated on what to say next. Or, more-so, what Murphy wanted her to say next. He wasn't sure what though. What if this was the point where she declined? What if she decided she didn't want to take it? Had he made the wrong decision in bringing this up for the group?

 

"Do you feel safe taking the cure?" It was all he could think to make Hazel ask. Anything other than that may turn this situation into a fiasco.

 

The groups' eyes were trained on her, probably not helping in coming to a decision for Hazel's (Murphy's) question. They all watched as she bit the inside of her cheek, drawing in a long breath before answering. "No, not really." There it went. He knew he shouldn't have done this. He knew this was going to be a bust. Why offer a choice when you know it won't turn out your way? He needed them to take it, but he just stripped himself of the option.

 

"But…" Maybe not. "I don't have much of a choice. I either take it with the chance of survival or continue to worry about zombies coming to eat my brains." Yes, and now she had to make the right decision.

 

"Warren." It was a gentle warning given by Doc that had Warren raising her hand to him to tell him to not try to convince her otherwise.

 

"I'll take it." There it was. It worked. Warren wasn't about to ruin his plans.

 

Hazel nodded again, slight relief from Murphy to her, as her shoulder's relaxed a bit and she smiled slightly. "Okay." Hazel wasn't a gentle person when using her words, so she said it in more of a down-to-business kind of tone. She passed by Murphy, not even looking up at him as she mumbled to herself but loud enough for the rest of the group to hear. "Mr. Murphy: already cured with the antibodies found in the cure. No need for the vaccine."

 

 She turned to Addy this time, shuffling the papers in her hand before she found the exact one. Upon finding it, she scanned it over before reading. "Addison Carver: Bitten by Lucy Murphy estimated about two to three years ago. Classified as a blend. However, due to the decease of Miss. Murphy…" Addy's face darkened as Hazel brought up the name, the act of trying to keep strong and neutral failing as unshed tears started to well up in her eye. "…It is not possible to test what will happen when a cure made from Mr. Murphy's blood reacts to the only blend of Miss. Murphy." She finished reading off, staring at Addy expectantly, but the girl only had a distant look on her face.

 

Murphy couldn't help himself as he looked away too. Dark reminders that his daughter was gone for good.

 

"Addy." He was drawn out of his thoughts by Addy's name being called. Swiftly, he wiped a tear from his face, glancing back over at the group.

 

"Wha-um…" She quickly brushed away a tear from her face as she sniffled, straightening herself as her distant look faded. " I--" She cleared her throat, moving so she was looking directly at Hazel. "I'm the only blend of Lucy's. Yeah…"

 

"Are you willing to take it while knowing this information?" Like he mentioned before, Hazel was the type of person to get down to the point, with or without Murphy's control. She showed no sympathy or gentleness in situations like these. It was only what mattered at the moment; with that being her research and knowing the group would be willing to take the vaccine.

 

"What the hell." Addy tried to smile, repressing her grief and mournful attitude. "At minimun, I lose my other eye." She attempted to laugh, but it only came out broken and sad, nothing hinting at joy.

 

Warren walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder for reassurance. Addy leaned against her, relishing in the comfort, but not revealing it so much so.

 

"Okay." Hazel mumbled, making tusking sounds as she looked through her papers again. It didn't take her long before she came across it, not even looking up as she went to read. "10K: Turned into a blend estimated four to five years ago, while taking boosters to revert back from blend to human." He could feel Hazel's hope grow at knowing there was a way out of his control, and he couldn't help it when a pang of anger hit him. He was trying to do good here and she had the decency to try to change that!

 

It won't work. Read on.

 

He commanded, causing her hope to drop as she continued.

 

"After multiple repeats of going from blend to human, he was shot gaining a deadly infection. To save him, it was found from Murphy's charts that the only way to live was to kill him. After the process titled, 'Choke, Die, Bite, Inject' it was proven true to work. The problem is, with being a…'cured' blend, I won't know for sure how this vaccine will affect you. All the boosters and injections you took, I have no way of recreating it due to Dr. Merch's death…"

 

10K's eyes that had been watching Hazel as she spoke, turned to Murphy; watching intensely as Hazel read through the information, a determined hint in them. Murphy could tell he was thinking this over, the cure and the boosters. After 10K had escaped, Dr. Merch had decided to kill herself, thus leaving him without a blend vaccine and without her knowledge to make what he needed. However, after eating her brain to no one's knowledge, the vaccinations kept being produced, as well as the boosters. 10K knew she had been dead after a while; with being in his head, Murphy could tell. So, it seemed only right for him to question how more came, how more could have been created, after Dr. Merch died.

 

That knowledge that 10K had, had him keeping his eyes trained on Murphy. Almost as if he were trying to fit the missing pieces of a puzzle together and failing to do so.  What worried Murphy though was even if 10K was failing to come up with a reasonable solution to this, it would leave him guessing and questioning, coming up with theories of his own. Even then those theories might own up to be true, if he decided to plug in the information of Murphy in the lab, the syringe, the screaming, a new cure, a random scientist, all this information; 10K might just get the bigger picture by accident. Then it would be a problem from there. He wouldn't take the cure due to being skeptical, might even alert the group of his suspicions, and then it would be all over again. Either way, Murphy knew this was going to come and bite him in the ass. Even if he had asked the doctor or if he didn't, there would still be suspicions on what the cure actually was.

 

He just hoped he was a good enough liar to get them to believe him. Or, if putting it in a more reasonable term for those who didn't know Hazel was a blend, believe the scientist.

 

"To add on to that, with being partially dead…if that would be the correct term to use, I have no way to repeat the process. That is, unless I were to ask Mr. Murphy to try to bite someone, kill them, and inject them with a similar concoction, and hope for the best from there; however, I don't believe that is the wisest option." Even as Hazel finished, 10K was still holding a staring contest with Murphy. Probably going over and over with different scenarios of what could be wrong with this. Murphy raised an eyebrow at him, trying to act curious to why he was doing so, and innocent in having anything to do with it. It seemed to work as 10K looked away, glancing at Dr. Zelis with uncertainty in his eyes.

 

"You said Murphy didn't do anything to it?" He peered back over to Murphy, as Murphy rolled his eyes. He was trying to play the part of innocent, so in doing so, he hoped the action he did would prove that.

 

"None at all. We looked over Sun Mei's work and seeing as how she perfected most of the vaccine without having to worry about it failing in years to come, like others had to," Like Zona's cure. "…it seems to be the best cure we could make." 10K nodded his head, a small frown appearing on his face as he seemed to be processing it over in his head. Almost like he couldn't believe that Murphy had no involvement other than his blood, and the cure was an actual cure.

 

Well, he'd be right to believe that.

 

10K scanned over the doctor, checking for bitemarks or a sign that she had been injected (that mark hidden under her sleeve) from his distance. He didn't seem to find any as he went on to his next question. "And you haven't had the vaccine?"

 

Hazel picked up her head, her mind racing as she tried to come up with answers herself. Murphy stopped her, speaking through his mind what he wanted her to say. "Not yet. I plan on getting it once released." Like everyone else. He kept the last part between him and her.

 

10K took a deep breath as he started to agree with her. With a reassuring squeeze of his hand from Red, he looked back up at the doctor, suppressing his nervousness under a neutral face. "Do you agree with the others, that taking this will be alright with you?" Hazel, of course with a work attitude, asked.

 

10K looked down to Red, who was at his side, with a mixture of emotion. She didn't respond back, only looked up at him with reassurance before looking back to Hazel. 10K followed her gaze, joining in as he stared at the doctor. "Yeah." Great. One more of Operation Bitemark on his side. Unknowingly of course.

 

10K's attention turned back to Murphy, going back over him as if he still knew something was wrong in this situation. He was only pulled away as Hazel called Doc's name.

 

"Steven Beck, or Doc…" Hazel showed the slightest of smiles as she read through the notes, picking up her head before speaking. "Other than the mass amounts of drugs and marijuana that you've done, nothing seems against your odds in taking the vaccine." Doc gave a slight chuckle, as Murphy patted him on the back.

 

"Congratulations Doc. You're the only one normal out of us."  Doc nodded, despite the news that everyone was now changed in the weirdest way; Doc took it as a complement.

 

"And here I was thinking I'd be the first to have weird shit happen to me." Warren shook her head at Doc's response, amusement betraying her as it appeared on her face.

 

"I suppose I might as well ask. Are you taking it?" Hazel shuffled through her papers, not really paying attention as if she already knew the answer.

 

"Well hell yeah I am. I didn't spend most of the apocalypse hoping for this day to come and decide not to take it." Another one down.

 

That left Simon, the famous Citizen Z, as he watched on with how the group acted with one another. He seemed to be happy, to know this whole thing was going to be over with, but then again, they all were.

 

Hazel's thoughts came across his mind, reminding him it wasn't over. That it wouldn't be over with what he was doing--making more so, but he ignored her. It would be all over: death, zombies, violence, all gone.

 

"Simon Cruller: I don't have anything other than Pre-Zombie Apocalypse medical records, but none of them seem worthy enough to say they will have much of an effect. Does that leave you willing to take the cure?" Simon smiled, nodding his head.

 

"For it to end, I'll take it." Murphy knew there was an unspoken phrase about JZ and Kaya. Hoping to have his son grow up with a normal life. Murphy would have wanted that for Lucy too. For a world without zombies and fear, and now it would finally be given. That and so much more.

 

---line break-----

 

It was all getting set up: the equipment (medical and technological), the chairs, stage. They started work right away, the news of what was happening spreading like wildfire once announced. Everyone ran around, excited and amazed, as the thought of the day for it all to end finally came.

 

Murphy had been tasked with laying out the chairs, setting them up in front of the stage so the live audience would have a clear view. Simon was up front, him and Kaya setting up their equipment to broadcast the event, as JZ ran around like a wild child. Nana was sitting in one of the first chairs Murphy set up, taking it the second he unfolded it. Despite finding it annoying, he brushed it off as he went over how the day would go.

 

Or at least, how he hoped for it to go.

 

It would go the right way though. The group will be vaccinated, and with the 20,000 doses already made in the lab (more in the process) they would be distributed while others would join in soon after the event ended. There should be enough for all occupants of Altura and then some, so it shouldn't be a problem with numbers. Well, numbers in the case of the vaccinated.

 

He took a seat for a moment, bringing a hand to his head as he relaxed. Recently, it was like every thought that the blends had was killing his brain. Each one louder than the other and he just couldn't get them to shut up. He had willed the scientists and doctors to be quieter since the day had finally come for others to take it, but he still needed more if he was going to distribute it throughout the world, so he couldn't just shut them off completely. The other nine Altura blends he hadn't done anything with, all of them still under the impression that they were just cured from the zombies, so if he were to act on them, it would only reveal them to that notion.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the moments break.

 

What was he going to do when he had the whole world to deal with? Millions of people under his control; their thoughts running rampant at every second of the day? He hoped it wouldn't be too bad. He was fairly sure this wouldn't kill him, but he still knew it would be a hell of a headache to come.

 

Hopefully, by the time everyone is injected, he could just shut their minds off for a little, almost like they were sleeping. Yeah, he'd do that. That way, all those people get a break from their daily lives, and Murphy would get a break from their daily thoughts.

 

"Get up, princess. We still got a lot of work to finish today." He cracked an eye open from underneath his hand, back slouched against the chair in the most comfortable way he could get. Warren was lugging equipment to Citizen Z, Doc helping beside her as they carried the heavy stuff up the stairs. As she spoke, she didn't stop going up, rather giving her voice strain as she called to him.

 

"Yeah, yeah." He called back, getting up from the nice little break he had, and going back to unfolding the chairs. He got a few rows over, glancing up once to see 10K push a cart of medical supplies by and allowed Addy to sweep the concrete below where he was about to place the tenth row of chairs. Ugh. How much more of these did he have to do?

 

He was about to place the last of the tenth row down before a small figure came barreling down the row, knocking a few of the other row's end chairs out of place. Just great.

 

"Hey!" He called to Simon and Kaya, both adults turning around momentarily to look at him. "Watch your kid, will ya?" JZ laughed from behind some chairs, believing that he was hidden from sight even though Murphy could clearly see him.

 

"Nana!" Kaya called, giving her grandma a "c'mon" expression. "I thought you said you'd watch him while we work?" Nana said nothing, just staring blankly back at the couple. "No, you promised me. You told me you never go back on promises."

 

Sometimes, he was sure Kaya just made-up random things to say for the older women.

 

Like she had actually said anything, Nana got up with the quietest of grumbles and headed over to collect JZ. She carefully weaved her way through the chairs, light on her feet to the point where you could barely hear her coming. Murphy moved away from them, instead going over to fix the mess that JZ created with the chairs.

 

This was going to be a long day.

 

"Let's go people." George called, as she started to climb down her ladder, glancing up at the posters and signs for the celebration that her and another citizen had just hung. "It's only going to get colder the longer we dilly-dally." She was right, as even now, the temperature was frigid without proper clothing.

 

This was going to be a long day indeed.

Notes:

Took me four months to write the first four chapters and here you guys have two chapters posted in one week! Lucky...wish I had been that lucky, but you know, life of an author.
Hope you guys enjoyed. In my opinion, a comment (bad or good) is better than none at all. What do you guys think so far? Any changes?

Christmas and New Years are coming up! Have a great and merry day, and I'll see you in the next year!

Chapter 3: What's Good Won't Kill

Summary:

Overview: The cure is now being distributed to unknowing people worldwide. Even with his attempts to keep what he was doing a secret; will Murphy's plan all fall apart with a little slip-up?

Notes:

New Year; New Chapter!
Hope everyone had a great holiday-- or if you didn't celebrate-- a great regular day. Week? I had two weeks off of school (doesn't actually stop me from doing school though) so I hope everyone has/had a great break! Enjoy the story!
Comment if you see any errors. I need critiquing in this story.

Within a day and a half tops, Altura was set up and ready for the celebration of the vaccine. Simon had cued everyone who had a radio to stay tuned for the event, something they wouldn't want to miss. " …Whether it be solar power, battery power, car radio, anything; save up as much as you can because you do not want to miss out on this. You remember talking about hope. The thing I talked about-- we all talked about, so early on in the apocalypse. Well, I'm telling you now, we got some. Real, actual hope. Can you believe it? Me either, but here it is. So get ready, cuddle up with those you care for, and join around the radio because tonight we're about to announce that hope."

 

The message had been repeating all day on any frequency they could broadcast from, and it was ingrained in his mind now. Radio, hope, cure, family, all real. Yeah, he heard it all from any radio he passed throughout the day. Despite the news, it was rather getting on his nerves to hear it so much. Then again, all he had to do was move away from the radio, but it was like he couldn't escape it. That and his headache just added on to everything else today.

 

Regardless, the day was finally here, as people gathered around their seats, bundled down in their best, but also warmest clothes for the event. The animated conversation filtered in one ear and out the other as he paced the back room behind the little stage they had made. It was enough to support all their weight, and it elevated them enough off the ground for everyone to see, so it worked just fine.

 

They had debated previously whether to hold it inside or not, but seeing as how the outside offered more room, they agreed to hold it out here. Of course it had to be cold today though. Like he expected anything different, but still. Why not just add on to everything?

 

It was one long list of problems after problems today, but the only thing keeping him from saying that today was an awful day was the fact that the celebration was about to be held. That being in… he glanced over to the crowd, not many willing to take a seat just yet, and everyone backstage was moving around, continuing to set up the last things, around 40 minutes then.

 

The day had seemed to drag on, not coming fast enough for Murphy. He wanted it to be over, to know that he was in full control to carry out his plan without the team catching wind of it and stopping him. He had been stressed all day. Thinking that the group might make a split-second decision and not get it or find out the cure was more than just a cure. Luckily, nobody had done either, and Murphy was grateful for that. They still had 40 minutes though, and anything could happen in that period of time.

 

He stopped pacing now, glancing over at everyone backstage with him. Kaya was outside, her being the one to broadcast the event on the radio. Nana and JZ were also outside, sitting in the front row beside Red, as they talked with one another. Or more-so, Red talked to JZ, and Nana did…whatever she usually did. Talking not being one of them.

 

Regardless, that left Simon in the back with the rest of them, and by what Murphy could see, he was offering to help out with anything backstage. There wasn't much, just the final preparations of the vaccine and the doctor taking hygiene precautions, and yes, the doctor was a blend as well; although it wasn't Dr. Zelis this time. He figured that she had caused enough problems and having her strive to stop him might just hinder what he needed to happen. She might somehow alert the group, or even 'accidently' spray the injection of it to the side if she even managed to get out from under his control. He couldn't risk that, so instead, he brought in Dr. Grant to do the job. The man was more willing than Hazel was, and for that, he decided it was time for a swap.

 

So now, with Hazel kept in the lab during the celebration and Grant out here preparing to give the others the blend/cure vaccine, it was working out quite nicely.

 

He watched as Dr. Grant moved around, so focused on his work that he nearly bumped into Addy. With a quick apology to the girl, he continued on, seeming unfazed and dead set on getting everything done. It was how the man's personality factored into the cure. It seemed to enhance certain traits of theirs while they were under his control. For Hazel, it had been her work suited attitude and ungentle nature in situations other than that. For Grant, it was his one-mindedness. To keep focus on one thing and forget about all others until the first was finished. Murphy wasn't sure what part of the vaccine that came from (cure or blend) but either way it was intriguing to see what motives and attributes were enhanced.

 

He would see as more people took it.

 

 It would be some time though, since he wasn't planning on making everyone under his control immediately. Something about that just didn't seem to sit well with the public. Instead, he'd wait until later on, when there was a fair amount of people under his command. Then, he would bring the world to peace.

 

He walked over to Warren now, seeing how she shifted nervously, off in her own world as she kept her focus on one part of the wall of curtains. If he was being honest, despite the fear found in her eyes, she looked similar to when she was in a vision of Black Rainbow. When she was too far zoned out, off somewhere else on the fiery landscape, that she had that look; and now, it looked as if it were making an appearance once more. Given, the task had been complete, and she hadn't had it for almost two years now, he'd say it's safe to say she wasn't in that La-La-Land again, but it didn't help with bringing back memories.

 

"Roberta?" He placed his hand on her shoulder, startling her a bit as she quickly adverted her attention to him. Once seeing that it was him, and not some wacko or zombie, she calmed. She smiled up towards him, given it was a little fake, if only it were to hide her fear. "You alright?"

 

She drew in a breath, allowing her eyes to shift around the room before returning to him. "I'm fine, Murphy." She paused for a second, seeming to think over her words. "Just…a little scared." Her voice quivered the slightest bit as she sighed deeply. He could tell, how she seemed to be acting so off from her regular air, that this was definitely affecting her. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't trust him; didn't trust the cure to be perfect and expected it to fail like Zona's; or if she was worried that it would kill her like Hazel warned. If anything, he was sure it was the last two, the first one probably not at the forefront of her mind.

 

"The famous Lieutenant Roberta Warren, scared- of a cure? C'mon Warren, with everything you've been through, this is nothing." He kept his voice gentle, trying to joke in a way that may cheer her up. To--hopefully--give her reassurances and confidence that everything would be okay.

 

It seemed to work a little, as her shoulder's slacked, and her fake smile became more real and relaxed.

 

 "I just don't want to go up there, get vaccinated, and die in front of all those people." She turned to him, a sense of pleading in her eyes, kept out slightly by her fear. "Just because I'm…different than them, I'm afraid it'll keep them from taking it. With everything-- wrong with me, with us. I don't want to ruin our chances of finally getting it out there. After everything we worked for…just for it to go down the drain because of what happened along the way." Warren shook her head, her voice falling lower as she finished, the fear clear now.

 

It took Murphy a moment to process it, to hear Warren say that. He knew dying played a factor into this, but it wasn't just about dying. It was about how those out there would react to her, to them, dying if it were to even happen. He hadn't really thought of that, even when they read off the risks, that this could play a major part in distributing it. He had focused on wanting them alive at that moment, but Warren's thought process had been elsewhere. Thinking of others before herself.

 

He nodded slowly, now taking in a deep breath as well. How was he supposed to word this? Put it carefully, or try to make it funny? To cheer her up or to agree?

 

"There's nothing wrong with you." It was the first thing that he could think of to bring up at the moment. To go back against what she said, without actually speaking about the main topic at the moment. He needed more time on that one. "It just made you…unique." Yeah, that was a good word to use.

 

"Unique with a chance of dyin'." It wasn't actual amusement that she spoke with. A more-so dark amusement to the situation than a fun one.

 

"You shouldn't die…with everything, it just-" Just wasn't possible? It was possible, a likely chance at that, but he wasn't going to say that. He turned to her, trying to play it off cool, but failing as he became nervous- scared even at what might happen now. With it being so close; with it being only half an hour away before he might lose his friends-- his…family for good. He couldn't do that. He said before that they wouldn't die. That they had been through worse, and this cure wasn't about to kill them. What if he was wrong? What if they died right there?

 

 "If anything, the cure wouldn't be the one to kill you. It shouldn't." He tried to make his voice sound determined, mind completely made up about the situation, but he had some doubt, and it showed.

 

Warren gave him a small, almost sad, smile as she grabbed his hand into hers. "If it does-" She shut him up with a gentle squeeze of his hand, "…try to show them, all those people, that they have a proper chance of being cured. That my death, if it comes down to that, happens, that I was…" She thought over it, coming up with the best word before she smiled gently at him, "-unique." She used the word back to him, and with the situation almost sounding like a final goodbye, it hurt even more.

 

Murphy bit the bottom of his lip, keeping him from saying any of that. From saying anything at the moment, but it slipped from him after a while. "And you're still taking the cure?" Yes, he wanted them to take it…but come to think of it, he wasn't sure he could live with knowing he had killed her or Doc.

 

She placed her other hand over his deep dark shaded red hand that her other hand was holding. She squeezed them together, almost as if she were grounding both him and her. "I'm relying on hope here. Just like what Charlie always held to." She became choked up as she brought up his name, even after years of coming to terms with his death, it still played an effect on her.

 

"Maybe hope isn't something you should always go for." He couldn't help himself, despite his plans, he couldn't just sit here and go over how he could have told her otherwise if she happened to die. If he knew he didn't try, all because of his goal, then he would constantly hound himself on it. He had done so with Lucy, even now he did, and it wasn't like it would stop just for Roberta.

 

"And maybe-- sometimes-- it is." At least he couldn't say he didn't warn her. In the very least, he mused on the topic, it would draw less uncertainty off of him. This conversation would, if anything, show to them that he didn't have any involvement in the cure, or at least in their eyes it would. She nodded her head, closing her eyes for a moment before releasing her hands that were gripping his one. She turned, looking up at him again before she went to speak. "Think about that for a little, okay? I'm gonna go see what I can do before it starts." And with that, a little pause as she waited for Murphy to nod back, she walked off, heading over to Simon and Addy.

 

Murphy let his head drop, a long, somewhat discontent sigh leaving him. What if this didn't work out the way he hoped? Everything he waited for, worked for, to lead to this? To lead to where he might lose people he cares about, and might not get the vaccine distributed with distrust if a situation like that occurred.

 

Maybe this wasn't as thought out as he had first assumed it had been.

 

He picked up his head, swallowing deeply before checking around the room again. Warren was now with Simon and Addy, the trio talking seemingly finding that there was nothing they could help with. Doc was in the corner, rolling a joint in his hands but repressing from lighting it. He said, afterwards when everyone was injected, he'd celebrate with it. Doc had always been an optimistic thinker. He hoped the older man knew that it may not go the way they all hoped for. That if someone did die--fully this time; let that be Warren or Addy, or even 10K, that he would have to come to terms with it as well. That it wasn't going to be good if the events decided to take a turn for the worse.

 

Something he hoped wouldn't happen but knew deep down with his doubt that it might.

 

George was down in the crowd at the moment, talking with everyone and getting them comfortable and situated. That left 10K then, by himself as he sat cross-legged on some boxes, his thoughts the only thing there to entertain him. Murphy briefly wondered why he and Doc hadn't just stuck together like always, but he assumed 10K probably wasn't in a talking mood at the moment. Given that he was closed off by himself, twirling a pocketknife mindlessly in his hand with a dazed expression.

 

Despite knowing 10K probably didn’t want to talk; Murphy walked over to him, not really caring what mood he was in. Either way, he wanted to clear up some things, since he knew 10K with his thoughts at the moment was not going to play in Murphy's favor.

 

He was only two feet away from 10K before he looked up, the dazed expression fading, 10K's normal look returning. Not neutral this time though, but slightly nervous and scared. Almost the same that Warren had had. 10K continued to watch him, eyes turning curious as Murphy took a seat next to him. Murphy watched silently as 10K scooted over putting his knife away, legs dangling off the crates to give Murphy enough room on the surface, but also allowing them to keep a fair distance from one another. Of course.

 

"Having second thoughts?" With the conversation he had before with Warren, and 10K's distrust for Murphy already, it seemed pretty clear that he'd be thinking something along the lines of that.

 

He nodded slightly, gaze shifting over to Warren, Addy, and Simon before he turned back to Murphy. It took another moment of thinking and silence between the two before he started to speak. "I heard what Warren was talking about." Why would Murphy expect anything different than 10K ease-dropping on their conversations?

 

"Yeah?" It was evident in his tone, that he made clear of what he was thinking.

 

10K ignored it though, continuing on. "Do you think people won't take the cure because of it?" He thought for another short moment, both giving Murphy time to come up with an answer, and him to properly word what he wanted to say next. "Even if you tell 'em otherwise?"

 

His first response was 'maybe', but knowing he couldn't just leave 10K on that, he decided his second thought was better. "If one of you guys do die when taking it, I'll just tell them you were different, and that they'll be fine. They'll believe it. Simple and easy." What else should 10K expect Murphy to say? Given how they viewed each other, and how Murphy had a reputation to uphold, he shouldn't have expected anything less to come from the conversation.

 

He didn't seem to though, as he nodded his head. "Thanks Murphy." It came out dry, no gratitude displayed in it as he spoke, but Murphy assumed that was proper for the conversation.

 

"No problem." He took it though, pretending it was an actual thanks. He looked back over at 10K, seeing that he had his head down now, left hand picking at the scabs falling off of the antler prosthetic. "That wasn't what you were thinking though, was it?" Given he had asked if 10K had second thoughts prior, but the sniper opted to ignore it and bring up Warren instead, he'd have to assumed that he was thinking something else.

 

10K looked up at him, letting his right arm fall to his side, but left hand stay in his lap. His eyes narrowed at Murphy, not in a glare, but more of in distrust again. "The cure…it's just-"

 

He didn't even have to let 10K finish the sentence to know what he was going to say next. "You don't trust me, I get it. You heard the doctor though, right? I wasn't anywhere near that lab when they were making it." 10K's shoulders straightened as he seemed to be onto something.

 

"What were you doin' in the lab that day then? Actually." He prodded.

 

"We're still on that?" 10K's facial expression didn't change, expecting an answer this time. "Alright fine, I'll tell you the truth." Despite wanting to know an answer at the moment, Murphy's willingness to tell seemed to baffle him for a moment. It was amusing to Murphy though, the exchange that happened, as he let a smirk line his face.

 

 " Okay…I was in the lab trying to figure out what to do with Sun Mei's brain. She wanted to give it to me for--something, but I can't figure out what. I was hoping that after this whole celebration vaccination thing, you guys would help me figure it out."

 

It seemed like a decent enough lie to show he didn't have any involvement, and the offer given seemed to top it off. And when they were under his control, after the vaccination, he wouldn't have to make them work at Sun Mei's brain with him. He'd just tell them to keep away from it, and voila! No need to worry about upholding the lie afterwards. That is, if any of the three were to make it out alive from the vaccine.

 

10K faltered for a moment, eyebrows coming together as he seemed to try to process it all. "You still have Sun Mei's brain?" The underlying thought of, when I was there I didn't see it, spoken enough through how he asked it.

 

"Kept it in the freezer--where you didn't look." A slight amount of embarrassment appeared on 10K's face as he responded with a quiet "Oh." The embarrassment didn't last long though, as his face screwed up into confusion again.

 

"And the screaming?" Another topic he had to explain yet again. Old questions revived anyone?

 

"I told you it didn't come from there. Hey, by any chance, did you find out where it came from?" Murphy grinned, seeing as how 10K had never got back to him with the information, he'd figured he could lead off the topic with his own question.

 

10K shook his head, eyes trialing to look through the little opening in the curtain, the crowd settling a little now as some took their seats. "A few others heard it, but we couldn't find any sign of where else it could have come from."

 

"Searched for a while?" 10K nodded in return. "And I'm guessing you came back around to spy on me in the lab for a while, huh?" 10K's eyes went wide for a moment, face turning red due to the fact that he knew he had been caught.

 

"No." The kid was good at hiding his emotions but lying was never his strong suit. At least Murphy knew he would never pick 10K as a partner in poker…or anything that included lying.

 

"You realize you're a shit liar, right?"

 

It was almost as if he threw back a playful glare to Murphy, not one filled with hate, given a little was shown, but kinder than usual. "And how would you know I was there?" It started to dawn on 10K, the kindness leaving in that split second, changing back to the distrust Murphy thought he finally got rid of at the moment. "Unless you knew I was coming back."

 

He got the conversation this far, and he was not about to ruin it. "I saw you go by the window. Geez, you're not the stealthiest all the time." The little trust was far gone at this point, but he could see that 10K took the option into consideration as well. 10K looked away, eyes wildly searching the area as if it were to give him an answer, leaving an uncomfortable silence fall between them yet again.

 

Seeing as how he knew if he brought something up in the middle of 10K thinking, it would only drag the situation down farther, he kept quiet as he looked around the backstage. Everyone was in their same positions, besides Doc, who had moved over to speak to the trio. Their conversation was low, and Murphy couldn't make out anything being said, but he could see Addy's skeptical look as her gaze fell between him and 10K. He knew why, considering him and 10K still disliked one another and wouldn't usually talk for any reason. She let it go though, much to Murphy's relief, talking even quieter than before to the others.

 

The silence dragged on longer, leaving Murphy to wonder what 10K was coming to terms with. Was he going to believe him, or was this whole 'nice-ish' conversation just going to be a bust?

 

He was dragged out of his thoughts as he saw a familiar female walk along the stairs of the backstage, seeming to head for the wood-line houses behind it. Janice. He thought she would stay to watch, but it seemed like she wasn't. He went to move, hoping to catch her before she left, but 10K found it the time to talk again. " Okay, but if you're lying…" The threat was made clear as his fist curled into a ball.

 

He sent a fleeting glance at Janice before looking back to 10K. "I don't plan on doin' anything harmful to you guys, if that's what you're implying." He could see that 10K had thought that, but even with the reassurance, it only seemed to help a little. Every bit counts though.

 

10K gave him a curt nod, biting the inside of his cheek as he looked back down, deeper in thought then before. Murphy got up, ready to take after Janice, but stopped figuring leaving the conversation on this note wouldn't do any good.

 

"This is the cure, remember that. The one we've been fighting for. Just…promise you'll think about that?" 10K didn't respond, head still facing the ground, and Murphy took that as his cue to leave. He wasn't sure if he made the situation worse or better, but he knew he'd find out soon enough.

 

Hoping that he hadn't just done something he would regret, he made his way out back, chasing after Janice as she headed away from the celebration. She was walking quickly, head down as she kept her hands in her pockets. Her shoulder length blonde hair covering up the holes in her baggy, tan long sleeved shirt.

 

"Hey!" He called, hoping to grab her attention. She picked up her pace once he called, before stopping abruptly, turning on her heel quickly to look at him.

 

"Mr. Murphy?" He nearly crashed into her at her sudden stop, barely pulling back in time to avoid the collision.

 

"Where are you going? The party's that way." Party, celebration, whatever you want to call it when people are receiving the vaccine. 

 

"I gotta go home to make sure Darren-" She cut herself off, words falling before she quickly tried to save it in case people were around to hear. "Darreniano is alright. My puppy, ya know?" Her save sucked, but he was glad no one was around to hear it.

 

"A…puppy?" So that's what she thought of Darren now? A pet? Then again, this was Janice, so what else was he expecting?

 

She glanced around nervously, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, before she leaned in closer to him. Her voice now a whisper, she spoke lowly near him so no one would hear. "Well, he acts mindlessly, always followin' me around. Figured I'd start treating him like one."

 

"Please don't tell me you have him sleeping on the floor on a bunch of old newspapers?" It wasn't like he actually really cared. He left Janice up to decide the fate of Darren after the stunt she pulled, but still. He at least wanted some humane semblance of thinking, especially when he would be the one to bring the world to peace and humaneness. 

 

"Well I only have one bed!" She argued back to him, seemingly unfazed with what she was doing in her insane mental state. Again, this was Janice, so he shouldn't really be thinking any other way.

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing out a sigh with his left hand to his hip. "So, after you take care of-- that, you'll come back?"

 

"Why?" Her head titled slightly as she looked him over. "Your friends are gettin' vaccinated, not me. I already had my shot." She pulled up her sleeve, revealing an old, crumbled pink Band-Aid of a smiley face loosely hanging off the skin of her arm. It was all faded, dirt lining the edges and the skin beneath pink, white and moist. Had she had that on for all those months? If so, ew!

 

"You kept that on?!" Despite his disbelief in asking the question, she barely seemed to care, brushing it off almost immediately.

 

"Kept reapplying it. So why do I need to stay?" She didn't seem impatient to the situation, rather more curious than not.

 

"You-" He abandoned his thought figuring he'd get nowhere in arguing that she could take that Band-Aid off. "I only gave you the Talker cure, not the ZN1 virus vaccination." The blend vaccine. " You're still not completely cured."

 

"Oh…So the zombies still come after me?" It was intriguing that she didn't know so. He assumed that she would have been out and about, not minding being around zombies if she fully believed that she was cured. Although, given her assignment of watching Darren, plus whatever else she did in her spare time, he couldn't really see Janice as the type of person to go out on an adventure for anything without a particular reason.

 

"How did you not know? Haven't you been…around them?" She shook her head, clarifying that his thoughts might just be right.

 

"Not really a need to…So you want me to come back and take it? You do realize the public still see me as a Talker, right? They'll make me take the Talker cure again, and then give me the regular cure after that. Can they do that? It won't kill me to take it twice, will it?" Oh right… He forgot about that whole predicament he had Janice backed up into. "Why can't we just tell them now? The cure's- both of the cures are out there. Shouldn't it be safe to tell 'em I was the first?"

 

"No." He was quick to respond, and he didn't miss how Janice's face fell at the mention of it. He couldn't tell them yet. It might target him, all come back around to him, and then they'd all figure out what the cure was. He wasn't about to make a simple mistake happen, even if just telling them Janice was the first to be tested on didn't seem like a slip-up of information. It would be enough to question, he knew that much, so he wasn't about to risk it. "I got some people who'll give you the cure, all right? We…we can't tell people yet. Just give me some time. Please?"

 

She looked away, almost pouting, as she crossed her hands over her chest. "I don't see why, but fine. At least I'll get it either way." Her hands dropped to her side; the pouting gone as she stared up at him. "I'll come back, watch, but then you gotta take me somewhere else to get it. If that's your plan?"

 

"It is." He confirmed. She didn't seem too happy about it, but both he and she let it go, not seeming enough to argue over. It'll happen either way, whether overtime or immediately.

 

She huffed, slightly turning her body so that she was in the position to walk back to her house. She stopped before completely turning around, glancing over him one more time.

 

"I'll take care of this quickly…and you better be ready with those scientist people with the cure for me." Her threat was hollow, not even counting as one, but she seemed it fit before she fled away from him; bristly walking away before taking a turn and going out of his sights.

 

Just another regular day with Janice.

 

He shook his head, also turning around as he headed back to the stage. The conversation with Janice seemed to bring the time of the vaccination closer, as the group stood by the curtains. Dr. Grant, cart already in front of him, was in the front of the group, George close beside. Warren and Doc stood next; Addy, Simon, and 10K following in that order behind them. They all were quiet, shifting around slightly as they awaited to be seated at the front of the stage after the curtain revealed them.

 

Without being prepared, he was ushered up to where George and Grant where, being told along the way that he'd be beside them across the stage to where the group had to walk up to as they were getting vaccinated. Supposedly there would be a speech, not too long for all those that were using a radio miles away, but long enough where they wanted the group to sit down before they were called. He wasn't particularly fond of the fact that he would have to be standing the whole time though, but it wasn't like he was given time to argue before the curtains were brought to the side and he was again being shown where to stand.

 

They didn't have too many lights that illuminated the stage, but there was one or two and that was enough to blind him for those revealing moments. He came back to his senses as he heard light clapping and cheering come from the crowd. It didn't last long, as they all quieted, and Murphy could see as they watched them intensely.

 

Warren and the others were walking in a single file line, each one of them smiling the slightest. They seemed to be a little uncomfortable with the recognition, given it had been nearly ten years now of apocalypse without much of a crowd to cheer for them. Had anyone cheered for them? No, probably not. Most of the time they were either getting shot at or chased down by zombies, so unless you want to call that post apocalyptic clapping, the recognition was completely new.

 

The group took their seats, fold out chairs like the ones Murphy had set up prior, as he, George, and Grant walked halfway across the small stage. George stood closer to where the group was, Murphy standing opposite of her while Grant took the middle. The cart was parked neatly at his side, medical supplies and syringes of the vaccine laid out on top, so it was easily accessible. The man reached down, pulling a pair of blue rubber gloves on before he picked up the first syringe. George, however, picked up a microphone, tapping it once to make sure it was on. When an echoing sound was heard, she continued.

 

"Alright…shall we try this one more time?" The last time she picked up a microphone, it had been a funeral for everyone's ears. This time however she actually managed to get it right, keeping her voice loud enough without a screeching sound following. She probably practiced all these months to get that right.

 

"Great!" She lit up once it actually worked in her favor. George smiled out to the crowd, so big and real that it looked almost as if it hurt. He had never seen her this excited before, but with the news, he'd have to say that anyone would be. "Welcome people of Altura, I'm so glad you could make it today; and for all those listening from the radio, thank you for tuning in. You do not want to miss this, so with that, let's begin."

 

She stopped for a brief moment, looking back to the group to make sure they were alright, before quickly adverting her gaze to Kaya. Once given a thumbs up that she was clear to make the announcement, and that people listening on the radio would hear, she spoke on. "We brought up a chance of hope earlier. Which, as you all know, is hard to come by." Always had been, but wouldn't be for long. "Today though, I am here to tell you that there is still actual hope for this world. We've been given false hope before."

 

Without her gaze being pointed at Murphy, he knew she was talking about him. If there were people out there, who hadn't been given his prior vaccine, but had in fact heard of it back when he was in Spokane; this would also probably identify as something similar to those people. The "Fear No More" being sounded around and broadcasted from his radio all those years ago might still have some effect on all those that heard it. Then again, they'd still have to be alive, so it was left up to question what odds that was. That had been nearly five years ago if not more, leaving anyone with the question of how many still remained that had heard it. Probably a few too many, but they'd come around at some point.

 

"This isn't the false hope you've heard. This is real. A real cure, made by our own scientist, the best of what the apocalypse has to offer. It was made by the notes of our deceased scientist, Sun Mei. Before she died, she had figured it out, leaving her notes behind for us to follow. So, if anyone were to question if it were real, and not one that would fail like some had tried to make us believe prior…" They'd never leave him alone for that, would they? "…this would be your evidence. Today, after years in the apocalypse that we've had to suffer, survive through, and become less of ourselves then before, I can finally tell you that it will all be over. That, today, we have come to show you-- or tell you-- that the end of the zombie apocalypse is finally here. "

 

The end of the zombie apocalypse, and the end of human destruction.

 

George hadn't finished, but Murphy watched on as the crowd was already bursting with mixed emotions. Excitement, nervousness, fear,…hope. It was all there, each one displaying something different, and Murphy couldn't imagine what others from far away were acting like. Cheering? Crying? Laughing or disbelieving?

 

"Not only will the zombie era end, but a hope for the Talkers is also here. We've been afraid of our supply, trying to keep it from running low, and keep all of our citizens fed and healthy. " She said citizens to reference to all. Human or Talker, they were all now recognized as they should be. "The Talker cure and zombie cure were both founded off of one another. I want to tell all of you, that today will be a new day to work towards a better tomorrow. That, one day soon, we will go back to being with what's left of our families. That we'll be living in houses in neighborhoods. That there will be food, water, and clothes distributed; electricity running everywhere. That, once the cure is given, we can work towards sending our children to school, or to have them see friends and not worry about a zombie coming after them. That, even if you may not like it later, we'll be able to have more jobs…" Murphy watched as some of the crowd groaned lowly, most getting elbowed by their friends or loved ones. " I know, I know, but still-- it will be one step closer to getting everything back to normal." The amusement was clear in her voice to their reactions.

 

She took a deep breath, quickly letting it out as she continued. "With all that being said, I would like you to know that in this celebration, it's not only to announce the vaccine." Here we go.

 

"That throughout these years of apocalypse, we have had brave people-- everyday people like you and me use to be-- help to get us here. From when hope was first given to us in the form of the only human known to survive a zombie bite, " She gestured to Murphy with her free hand, the crowds' eyes following to where he was. It was a little unnerving, as he shifted slightly, but the attention that was given (most being amazed and shocked) was accepted.

 

"…they have stuck to the mission. We lost some of those along the way. Whether that be from brave sacrifices, "Sun Mei, Sarge, Serena, Hector, Hammond, Garnett, 5K, Lucy…", or the events of the apocalypse that hadn't played in their favor," Dante, Uncle, Mack, Cassandra, Vasquez…  " While we give our respects and appreciation to them, we also have those that have lived all the way through."

 

George turned towards the group, all five of them sitting neatly in their chairs. They all seemed to be a little twitchy, some more than others, but to Murphy the reason was clear. "Either from working right through it, or being the voice of the apocalypse--helping from the sky; this group has been there ever since that hope was announced. Through zombies, humans, death, and trauma, they have been there to give us that hope. That, because of them and those who are gone, we can finally say that we have hope of a better tomorrow." She gave a smile to the group, before turning back to the crowd.

 

 "And I just don't think a simple thank you is enough…what do you say?"

 

The crowd chimed in, cheering or shouting that it wasn't enough. He couldn't make out any coherent sentences, even if he tried, so he just assumed that a majority of the vote was in on it.

 

"I thought that too." George agreed with the citizens, the microphone the only thing that made her hearable from the nearly roaring crowd. "So…today we thought it would only make the celebration a true one if they were the first to be shown our appreciation for what they have done. Operation Bitemark…" George turned to them, and even though they knew what was about to be said, they all directed their attention to her. " -for all that you have done, we offer you the chance to be the first to get the cure."

 

The group smiled, Roberta nodding her head for all of them that they were thankful and ready to take it.

 

"With that, let's provide some hope!" George smiled wider, looking up to the crowd. Their cheers roared throughout the open diming sky, chanting and whistling. They calmed as George put her hands up, showing she had more to say. Better make it quick before those out in the apocalypse lose their way of hearing.

 

George nodded to Murphy and Grant before turning back to her microphone. "Lieutenant Roberta Warren." She called, signaling Warren it was her turn first. The Lieutenant got up, albeit a little shaky, as she walked towards them. She kept her hands to her side, her hand facing away from the crowd mindlessly picking at a loose thread in her shirt. She held in a breath, shoulders straight, and a determined look on her face as she closed in the distance.

 

George stood behind her, mumbling "You got this." to her and away from the microphone. Grant stood beside Warren, syringe in hand with the antiseptic in the other. The man seemed to be wanting to get it done as quickly as possible, but Murphy stopped him, commanding him to stay put. The man listened, ever so slightly moving backwards and away from touching Warren. She didn't seem to notice what he made the man do, so he took that as a win.

 

He, however, stood in front of Warren. Towering over her as she looked up to him with a gentle smile. Nervous but kind all the same. Despite most of his pep talks leading up to this point, he couldn't help it as he drew in a breath, his own fear taking over. What if she didn't make it? What if she died?

 

He willed it away, smiling back at her. "You ready?" She nodded, but even with the smile, even with the way she held herself; he watched as tears started to prickle in her eyes, her not allowing them to fall. He knew she wasn't ready. He knew she was scared.

 

Of death. Of what people would do when she died. Of what might happen if she didn't, but the others did die. There was no way to be ready for a situation like this. The fear of the unknown always lurking around in the shadows, waiting to make an appearance in a time like this. She was scared, and so was he, of what might happen next. Let that be death or not, the unknown remained present.

 

"Remember what we talked about. You'll be okay." She bit her lip, the tears coming a little more.

 

"As long as I have hope." It was so quiet, barely a mumbled, but choked up all the same. Even Murphy barely heard her speak, but luckily, he was able to catch it.

 

"Hope…There's hope." He figured he'd take what she said before, after he thought it over a great deal, and show her that he did believe her. That you can still have hope even in situations like these. Of course, he had hope in all his other plans, but this one…not so much. There was some though. A little, barely much to count as it was overridden by his fear, but it was there. Enough of it to at least make what he was saying true.

 

He took her hands in his, squeezing with the same reassurance that she had given him earlier. She squeezed back, her arms stretched out for the doctor's full view of where he could work. Her eyes didn't stray from him though. She kept looking up, making sure to keep eye contact with Murphy, and not let her tears fall. She was brave…he would always give that to her. That even when facing possible death, she wouldn't let herself break down.

 

He did break eye contact though, only shifting his gaze slightly as Grant worked. Once the tourniquet was placed on her arm, antiseptic cleaned over the injection site, he slowly brought the needle to make contact into the vein. Once a few millimeters away, Murphy returned his full attention back to Warren, her eyes still focused on him. She held in a deep breath, chest not rising or falling as the seconds seemed to drag on for minutes. When the needle poked into her skin, she let out a small, ever so quiet wince; her head starting to shake from her fear getting to her.

 

Only seconds away from the moment of truth.

 

His own fear spiked, wanting him to pull Warren away and get both of them out of there. He had always been good at that in times like these. Running away from the danger was always what he had done best. Recently, he started to fight back, but the need and willingness to run was always there. He could do that now. She could be safe. They could run off…

 

It was already too late, his thoughts delayed from the reaction as the vaccine was injected into her. She went rigid, grip tightening as they waited for what was about to happen next. Her hands shook in his, but it didn't seem like a reaction to what she was given; rather only a fear of what may happen. It felt like an eternity as they waited like this--neither talking. The murmurs of the crowd fell upon them, but Murphy was too drowned out by what was going on, that he couldn't make out what was being said.

 

He wasn't sure how long they waited, how long they stood there, but slowly he felt something creep up in the back of his mind. He had felt Roberta before, back years ago when he was shot and the bullet passed into her. He had started, and always had to this day, felt her only a bit. Her presence, the leadership and determination-will and strength all there. Given, there connection was weak, but he still felt her.

 

Now though, it was much stronger.

 

Maybe not as strong as when he bit others, the injections and vaccines never amounting to an actual bite, but it was strong enough to know so much more than before. He could feel the emotions radiating off of her: The fear, hope, worry all bundled together--each one hitting him.

 

It was entrancing and odd all the same, given he never knew how much Warren had hide under her determination and leadership. Even though she wasn't dead set on the emotion now; he could still feel her love for others, her happiness in situations, and grief and loss from pained memories. If he tried hard enough, he could tune in on her thoughts, sensing that her mind was active with them, but he didn't; If only it were for the fact that he didn't want her to know he could.

 

He smiled down to her, a small one and gentle as he stared her in the eyes. The fear in her eyes only seemed to intensify now that he knew exactly how she felt at the moment. "You alright?"

 

Her reaction seemed delayed, as she stared at him for a few moments. Maybe she was trying to grasp the situation or maybe not. What he did know was that he felt it as her fear started to quell, and a smile of her own lined her face. She let out a short, breathy laugh as she looked down to her arm, the tourniquet taken off replaced with a purple smiley face Band-Aid. Dumbfounded at first, she stared at it, before rolling her eyes and looking back towards him.

 

"Murphy…" The amusement was clear without having to read her emotions, as she addressed him as if he were a child. How she knew he picked out the Band-Aid option was anyone's guess. Maybe she could read his mind from the vaccine?

 

No, he knew that wasn't true. Without actually opening the mental link between them, they were nothing more than human--that they knew of at least. They were blends, but not ones under his command, making it so he nor they could contact each other via mental link. So technically, later yeah, she kind of can read his mind--thoughts at that--but not now.

 

"Figured you'd like it." He poked at the Band-Aid lightly, "See, it's purple." He didn't actually know Roberta's favorite color, but she looked like a purple kind of gal to him.

 

She let out another quiet laugh, releasing their grip with each other's hands with one last squeeze before pulling him into a hug. "It worked." The relief she felt fled over him, making him sigh in content. Sometimes it was nice to feel other's emotions…and other times it wasn't. Now though, with both his and her relief, he soaked in every bit of it.

 

She pulled out of the hug, staring up at him as he spoke. "You're cured, baby!" Her smiled widened as she turned over to George. Her friend, clearly happy to see she was alright, pulled her into a quick hug before reminding her they should probably do the others. Warren agreed, quickly walking past Murphy sending him another joyful smile, her mood drastically elevated.

 

Formally, she walked across to the edge of the stage where they were supposed to stand at the end, the joy before dropping slightly.

 

Why?

 

He looked back over to her, confused as to why her mood dropped. He watched as she stared over to the others, and without having to read her mind or emotions, he knew. She was worried about the others. He knew the other two weren't like her--heck, they weren't even like each other with what had happened. Although Roberta was closer to him than Addy or 10K, he would admit he still did care for them. A little less on the kid's part, but what's he to say. Didn't like him from the beginning, and he didn't think that it would change now.

 

He did care for Addy though, even if it wasn't as much as Doc and Roberta. She had taken care of Lucy, and despite it all, she had still been his friend. He wasn't fond of the times she beat the shit out of him, but he knew somewhere along the line, she started to care about him too. Maybe as a friend-- maybe acquittance but either way, she did. So as his fear spiked slightly, he hoped it wasn't conveyed to Warren as Addy's name was called.

 

"Addison Carver." George's voice rang across the open night, the murmurs of the crowd picking up slightly, but also concealing themselves enough so no one could pick up on what exactly was being said. Addy got up from her chair, the sound of it scooting back echoing across the stage. He watched as she cringed a bit, shakily walking over to them.

 

She tried to keep the strong attitude that Warren had shown, but he watched as her legs slightly buckled beneath her as she walked across the stage, revealing that she was scared. It was a given--if you knew the ramifications as to why, but since only the small group of them did know why, she tried hard to hide it.

 

She kept her hands behind her back, nervously rubbing them together as she took small steps across the stage. Addy bit her lower lip, the bangs of her hair hiding her eyepatch just like she always kept it. Her face seemed paler than usual, eyes filled with worry and panic, but despite it all she kept walking up to them.

 

Murphy knew a few people--way back Pre-Z, mind you--who would have bailed out of this situation the second it came up. They would completely ruin the event, saying they'd come but never show up. Murphy had been similar to those people, not as bad but close, so as he watched Addy continue on, he agreed that she was brave as well. Maybe not Roberta brave--no one could match her-- but her own 'Addy brave'.

 

To him it felt like minutes as Addy carefully made her way to them, but to her it probably felt like an eternity. With her final step, she closed in the space, occupying where Warren had stood before. She didn't have tears in her eye, and she tried hard to conceal the fear on her face, but he could make out her slight shaking as she shifted in her place. Reaching out a hand, he placed it on her shoulder for comfort, causing her to stare him in the eyes. Her one blue eye barely glistening as her bangs fell slightly to reveal her eyepatch.

 

He pushed her bang back over the eyepatch, trying his best to smile as gentle as possible at her. He didn't have the same connection to her as he did Roberta, but there was still a connection between them. He just knew that if he did something wrong that peeved her off, she'd make him pay for it. Come to think of it, Warren would probably do the same…. The women in this group were scary at times, that was for sure.

 

A fearful look crossed her face as she lifted her arm for Grant, keeping her eye adverted from the man. Like Roberta, she found that it was better to look at the Devil himself then the vaccine, which he had to assumed counted as something. "Don't be afraid." He watched as she rolled her eye at him.

 

"Haha, yeah I get it-'fear no more'. Not the time, man." She kept her voice low, clearly not liking his callback to when he was the one giving out the blend vaccinations. Different situation, same scenario though. He was glad she didn't pick up on it at least.

 

The small interaction kept her mind off of it though, as she didn't seem to notice the needle protrude into her skin until the slight pinch and sting it brought with it. Addy gasped, letting a tiny wince escape her at the sudden injection. She screwed her eye shut, face scrunching up in fear as she awaited what fate brought to her. She seemed to try to keep herself from shaking, arm only doing so a bit leaving Grant to hold it still as he placed the Band-Aid over the injection.

 

After a few seconds the feeling of her conscience started to appear in the back of his mind, a smirk lining his face at knowing that it worked. Addy opened her eye, face relaxing a bit as he felt her fear dissipate replaced by a slight ease. She looked up at him, then towards the red smiley face Band-Aid, shaking her head and rolling her eye as she returned her gaze back to him.

 

He let his smirk drop into something gentler, tilting his head slightly as he looked her over. "How do you feel?" She bit her lip once more, running her left hand across her arm, before touching her face.

 

"Seeing as how I haven't grown an extra eye, but damn do I wish I did…" Murphy let himself actually laugh a little, seeing as how he knew she fully meant it. "I say I feel fine." A smile broke out onto her face, real and genuine, as she held her gaze with him. 

 

"Well isn't that fantastic." It sure was. A new blend on his side…the one-eyed z-slayer under his command.

 

She nodded, her relief the most prominent emotion as she went to hug and thank George. It was a quick interaction before Addy speedily headed off towards Warren, hugging the Lieutenant in a bear hug as they whispered excitedly with one another.

 

They won't be excited for long.

 

He willed away the thought, repressing it but also fully knowing it was true. He knew they wouldn't be happy when this whole blend/ cure fusion thing came to light, but he'd try to hold that off as long as he could. It didn't need to be the main talk of the town this early on, he knew that was for sure.

 

He sighed, looking away from the two women as the next name was called. "10K."

 

The one-handed sniper got up slowly, eyes darting around to the crowd before falling back to Warren and Addy. His movements to where Addy had been standing prior were quicker than the girl's, but also slower than when Warren had walked over. His antler prosthetic twitched nervously at his side as it caught onto the fabric of his jacket. He didn't seem to notice though, as his gaze only lingered on Addy and Warren.

 

He's watching to see if they give any signs to being blends.

 

Murphy watched him closely, seeing if he had somehow managed to figure anything out--even with Murphy not doing anything. He figured that if 10K did catch on at this moment, it would be from plain paranoia and fear with observations prior than actual facts at the moment after the vaccination. Given so only because Murphy knew he hadn't interfered once with their thoughts, nor had he even given them the smallest command to follow.

 

10K didn't seem to pick up on anything though, fear and worry still evident as his eyes were wide when he stopped in front of Murphy. Only when Murphy cleared his throat did 10K look up at him. His facial expression hadn't change, but it was far different than what Murphy had deduced as his 'regular face'.

 

10K didn't seem to be as worried of death (not as much as Warren or Addy had been for their own reasons) rather more-so of the fact that the cure wasn't an actual cure. A slight anger hit him at the thought, remembering back to when Merch had decided that trading her life as a meal to the zombies was better than being a part of his new world. He didn't have any thoughts otherwise that the same idea was on 10K's mind.

 

Guess he thought dying was better than living in peace.

 

Of course he would think that though. Kid wasn't happy if he wasn't killing a zombie or facing a near death experience. Despite the anger of what he figured, he let it roll of his shoulders; rather putting on a more 'nice face'.

 

"Guess you took my advice, huh?" 10K's eyes had wandered from him to the vaccine the doctor was readying to inject into him. He watched as 10K swallowed nervously, eyes narrowing the slightest as he watched it loll around in the syringe. "Hm?"

 

The second attempt to grab his attention back did just that, as his gaze shifted quickly back to Murphy. His eyes darted over to Warren briefly from where he could see over Murphy's shoulder, before returning his full attention back to the red Devil himself.

 

"Yeah…" There would always be the distrust in his eyes as he watched Murphy, but the panic seemed to mask if only some of it.

 

Murphy watched as Grant had to pick up 10K's arm from the side, given the fact that 10K seemed to be frozen in place, barely moving. He sensed a little shock from the doctor in doing the action, causing him to turn his attention to what it was. That being, the bite mark on 10K's wrist.

 

Now, he knew Grant hadn't seen it on Addy's hand given the fact that she wore gloves today, but 10K wasn't able to wear gloves due to the little…incident that gave him an antler instead. So, in this case, the healing mark was displayed fully when his jacket sleeve was rolled up.

 

Knowing that the shock of Grant wasn't really a problem, he turned his attention back to 10K. Whether Grant saw it or not meant nothing other than the fact that the doctor knew 10K had previously been a blend. All the sight did was make Grant question if he were able to be saved from being a blend as well, much like Hazel had done before. However, Grant didn't have a strong will like Hazel did, thus the task at hand became his forefront thought as he prepared 10K's arm.

 

When the antiseptic was wiped over the injection site, Murphy saw 10K squirm a bit, fear intensifying as he looked as if he were about to bolt away. He kept his eyes adverted from Murphy, and only once looked over at the two women again to see if anything had changed. Nothing had. Other than that, his gaze was fixated to the ground, every so often flickering up to where Grant worked, causing his body to shake slightly.

 

It was quick though, the process near complete as Grant brought the needle down to 10K's arm. When the needle stuck into the skin, 10K's left fist balled as he tilted his head away and screwed his eyes shut. And then he waited…

 

Murphy watched on, keeping a curious gaze on 10K trying to figure out whether or not the young adult would be able to tell the difference between being human and blend again. 10K's eyes flickered open, confused at first as he looked over his arm. He ran a hand along the green, circular Band-Aid, then across the mark on his wrist, before finally grazing across the one on his neck. He seemed to notice…something? Maybe he noticed something different about the situation now, or maybe he felt that connection with Murphy again when he was a blend? Murphy sure did.

 

It wasn't like the last time though. Not when they were on the submarine, and he had bit 10K when the kid was unconscious. To be fair, Murphy hadn't even been sure if the blend part of the vaccine would even work on 10K. He knew that with whatever Sun Mei had injected him with after they killed him, it had taken his full ability away to sense him, hear his thoughts, feel his emotions, or even feel his life force. Whatever it had been that they had done, it had completely taken away that ability, and kept doing so throughout the years.

 

Murphy figured that when the blend vaccine and the injection of Sun Mei's collided with one another, it would have the same effect as it did before when he had bit 10K after they choked him. Instead, his negative thoughts were proven wrong because now he did feel 10K. Although, like he stated before, not in the same way.

 

Instead, it was weaker. Not weak in the sense of control (although he would have to test that out to make sure) but more in the sense of feeling. It was a dull feeling of his emotions, almost as if he wasn't getting the full picture of something. Like an image was foggy, but when looking close enough, you could gather enough clues to figure out what exactly that was. That was what it felt like now. He would sort through the fog to find that 10K was frightened, confused, and worried, but he couldn't feel it to the extreme part as he had been able to with Warren or Addy.

 

Guess he'd have to give 10K a booster then.

 

10K probably wouldn't like the idea of that, but now with him under his control, it wouldn't really be an option.

 

"Did it work?" 10K asked slowly, hand falling from his neck back to his side as he looked at Murphy and Grant.

 

"Well, ya didn't die, so there's that." 10K's unamused expression landed upon Murphy before a smile broke out onto his face. Murphy could feel the twinge of joy suddenly as the action took place. At least he was glad about taking the vaccine. Given the joy, he figured 10K didn't feel the same connection again, or else he was sure the interaction would be different.

 

He let himself smile down to the sniper, if only to be nice, as he patted him on the back. "Guess you're cured, Captain Hook." 10K gave him a confused look, a tad bit of amusement hidden within it. His feelings however felt quite different. 10K seemed to recognize the name, if anything it was from a children's story book, but he didn't seem to let onto that as he stared at Murphy.

 

If the kid had been faking knowing all these pop culture references this whole time…

 

He wouldn't doubt it; 10K messing around with them in what he did and didn't know all those years that is, but for now he just assumed the name was familiar from his childhood. Whatever that be when he grew up in a cave.

 

"You gotta at least know that one!" 10K's devious smirk in reply as he walked off to the women gave even more of a clue to what he thought before making him roll his eyes more-so fondly then not. The group was really starting to warm up to him after a while.

 

He'd give them the best after this. When the whole world was cured and fixed, they would all get the happy ending they deserved. He'd make sure of that. First though, they would have to warm up to the idea that they were blends, which he knew was going to be a tricky process.

 

Once 10K made his way over to the women (looking down to the crowd once to smile at Red), George called out the next name.

 

"Steven Beck…or Doc."  The eldest of the group, with an overly happy air to him, made his way across the stage faster than the previous three. Since Doc didn't have to worry about death by the vaccine, he assumed that contributed to the difference in approach.

 

Once in front of Murphy, he nudged his shoulder playfully. "I told you they'd make it, man!"

 

"You were right…you're right. They're fine." He agreed back, pulling his shoulder away and rubbing it even though the action didn't hurt. "Now it's your turn. You ready?"

 

Doc rolled up his sleeve, raising his arm for Grant without hesitation. "Been given injections more than enough times that I had no idea what was in 'em. One more ain't gonna do me any harm." 

 

If you knew what it was, your thoughts may be different.  No, he wasn't going to believe that. Yeah, maybe the group wouldn't like what was in the vaccine, but he knew they would come around to it after a while.

 

Besides, this vaccine wasn't going to do any harm. It wasn't like he was building an empire for himself. He was building a world renewed in life and peace! Not harmful--no, it will be beneficial.

 

"Ain't that the truth." Murphy agreed despite his inner thoughts battling one another. They'd come around to the idea. Eventually.

 

He watched as Grant grabbed Doc's arm, repeating the steps for the fourth time and Murphy could already feel the doctor's frustration. He was being slightly ruff now, probably given lack of control of what he was doing and also disliking what he was doing, but Murphy willed him to be gentler with Doc when Grant quickly tried to inject the vaccine into the older man.

 

Be gentle or I'll make you work with Hazel.

 

Grant slowed, gaining a calmer approach when working with Doc as he now brought the needle to Doc's skin carefully. However even as he did so, Doc let out a quick "ouch" as the needle stuck into his skin. He would have glared at Grant if it weren't for the fact that he knew the blend doctor was actually being careful.

 

It didn't take too long before he felt Doc's conscience creep up in the back of his mind. It hit stronger than before; the joy and peace with the situation all flooding on him at once.

 

That and the feeling that he had just gotten stoned.

 

Was Doc always high? He swore on his life that the man hadn't smoked the joint, so he had to assume that Doc had something else on him. Murphy tried to hold himself upright as the feeling and emotions hit him, but he couldn't help himself as he wobbled a bit.

 

Hopefully no one saw that.

 

Doc's smile grew as a goldish Band-Aid was placed over the mark, circular like the rest, but consisting of a smiley face in it as well. "Gold?"

 

"Only for the best." He didn't know any of the group's favorite colors, that not being what was on the forefront of your mind when trying not to get eaten, so Doc's color was chosen for how much the older man meant to him. A friend now. Part of the weird apocalyptic family that somehow formed together.

 

"Aw, come 'er." Doc pulled him into a hug, patting his back with gratitude as his delight was conveyed to Murphy. A slight guilt built up in him as the exchange took place, but Murphy wasn't sure why. He was doing good here; God's work even. He was turning the world into a place where people would actually pay to live in (of course he wouldn't make people pay to live in it, but still, a thought is a thought.). He shouldn't be feeling guilty or upset with his choices of turning people into blends unbeknownst to them because in the long run, it was going to save the world.

 

He shouldn't feel bad, and he resented whatever part of himself that did. This was a good deed. He was doing good.

 

Doc pulled out of the hug, turning to George to give her one too. It sort of left Murphy there, standing like an idiot in headlights, to ponder over what he was actually doing.

 

Was it good?

 

God, he hoped so or else he was sure Lucy would be yelling at him from Heaven or wherever she laid to rest. He knew he was doing good, but there was always that what if. What if he wasn't doing the right thing? What if it didn't go as planned? What if he managed to fail his daughter when all he was trying to do was good?

 

Well, good with the outcome of saving himself, but anyone would do that. Right? Offered the chance to do both, people would snatch that up and complete whatever it was. After all, everybody was only looking for a happy ending.

 

"And lastly, for the voice who guided not only this team, but all of us through the apocalypse; Simon Cruller, the one and only Citizen Z." He was dragged out of his thoughts by George's voice, finally announcing the last name of the five.

 

Simon got up from his chair, giving a loving and gentle smile over to Kaya, before turning his attention to the crowd to wave at JZ. The little boy was bursting with excitement when he saw his father on the stage, bouncing in Nana's lap and waving everywhere with his energy. He seemed to try to run over to Simon, but Nana held the boy back, and it didn't seem to deter JZ's attention in the slightest.

 

With one last wave and smile at his son, Simon made his way to where the four other Operation Bitemark occupants had stood. He planted his feet on the ground, the crowd's cheering for their love for him dying down as Simon raised his arm for Grant.

 

"Someone's famous here." Murphy kept his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow to the man in question. He heard from Warren that Talkers and normal humans gathered around the infamous Citizen Z at practically any place. The bar, library, cafeteria; the man supposedly couldn't catch a break, and it showed.

 

He didn't really hang around Simon, and when he did; it was either with the group or a quick passing-by in the streets, but he did notice the stares Simon got when people moseyed around them. Murphy hadn't paid much attention to them though, already being used to the stares after years of it.

 

"I know right? Talked to anyone that would listen because I was lonely and thought I could help and look where that led me. I'm pretty sure I got--like, a whole fan club now!" Simon, however, did not seem use to the attention. He would get used to it though, especially when in the New World he would probably be an even bigger voice to anyone that would listen.

 

Murphy assumed that would be a good life that would fit him. One where he could talk to people and do basically what he did before the nukes. Deliver information, brighten people's days, and play cool ass music for others to listen to. Sounded like a nice life to him at least.

 

"I would get used to it if I were you." He was careful not to bring up his plans as he spoke. "When the world gets better, I'm sure they'll need a radio host." See, didn't reveal virtually anything of his New World plans! And, he would also get Simon's opinion on the matter.

 

The needle made contact with Simon's arm, causing him to wince slightly before he responded. "Definitely. JZ is already a big fan of what I do. I'm sure he'll want to be there and watch." The pride in his voice for his son was nice, and as he felt Simon's emotions, they displayed all of it. The love, pride, happiness, and relief to know that after all these years there would finally be a day that would be considered normal.

 

That finally, the world would have that semblance of normalcy and return to what it was originally. That the apocalypse was finally over.

 

It sounded weird to think, say that, much less. When had he ever had hope that the apocalypse would fully be over? When had anyone? It was just recently that that hope was finally given to be 100% true. That it was finally over.

 

And it would just get better from there.

 

---line break---

 

After Simon had headed over to the others and George announced that the vaccine that was ready to be given to the public was being given out in the conference hall, it had been chaos after that. Not chaos in the sense of disaster though…trust him, that had happened one too many times before.

 

No, instead it was more of a mad house of "Where do I go again?" or " Can I talk to Operation Bitemark?" Crowds swarmed around them, even himself, making it impossible to leave from there.

 

They managed though, as Warren's authoritative attitude and George's leadership over the people came to light and cleared a way for them so they wouldn't get trampled on. They snuck out from there and headed around the back where there were less people. Once out of sight, the crowds decided to head over to the conference hall, all seeming eager and ready for the vaccine.  That left the group to figure out where to go from there.

 

 After some consideration, the bar had been the one most voted for.

 

So now they sat here in the empty bar other than a few lonesome occupants too drunk to fully comprehend their surroundings. They moved two tables together as Red, Kaya and Cooper (who Murphy hadn't known had been at the vaccination celebration) joined them for their little 'after party'.

 

 The seating arrangement, which had him at the end of the table, Roberta on his left and Doc on his right, while the rest lined their way down from there, turned out to be fitting as all of their conversations could be heard when wanted. It was mostly George who talked, Roberta and Doc as well, while the others listened on with curious ears.

 

Murphy hadn't been too interested, seeing as how Doc had told him most of his stories throughout the 70's, and 80's, and 90's…the others, however, still seemed intrigued by it though, so Murphy didn't complain. He leaned back instead, arms covering his chest and eyes closed as he drowned out the conversations.

 

He wanted to focus more on his link with the group, now that they were his blends, but he figured now wasn't the time. He didn't want to reveal that, and as much as he wanted to test it to see, he held himself back. He'd do so later, when it was a better time. Instead of focusing on his group, he focused on the other blend's minds.

 

Hazel, Grant, the other doctors and scientists, Darren, and…

 

He huffed to himself, lightly so no one else would pick up on it, but enough to where it clearly stated his frustrations.

 

Janice.

 

He forgot that he had to get the doctors to escort her to take the actual cure after the celebration. Her hollow threat reminded him of that, and even though he knew she wouldn't attempt anything on him, he was sure she'd do something in return. His main worry was that she'd try to track him down and find him so that he could give it to her from there. Nothing like her threat, but it would still add suspicion back after he just got the group to lose it.

 

Find Janice and give her the cure.

 

He didn't really care which doctor had heard it, let that be Hazel or not. He just needed someone to keep her away from the place he and the group resided in. Better off that way.

 

He slowly came back to it as he saw George pick up her glass. The others started to do the same, and he only assumed that a toast was being made now. Tuning back in, he grabbed his glass a vodka, raising it with the others as she spoke.

 

"To the end of the zombie apocalypse." They all repeated it, quieter than her, as they each took a sip.

 

Roberta was next with her toast as she stood slightly beside Murphy. "To our 'Savoir of Humanity'." She glanced down to Murphy, smiling a bit as she took another sip of her drink. He tilted his head towards her in somewhat of an appreciation, a smile of his own lining his face.

 

"Cheers to that." He agreed, causing some of the group to stifle a laugh to his comment.

 

"And to all those who we've come across and lost along the way." Doc spoke and with the loss that it held to all those who died, a sense of mourning washed over the group before Addy spoke up.

 

"Those poor souls." Her comment clearly was meant for those that they had come across as they traveled across America. Each and every time they did come across people, it usually ended up with half, if not all, of them dying. Poor souls indeed.

 

The rest of them seemed to agree, shaking or nodding their heads as they reminisced in their own memories. If Murphy didn't know better, he was pretty sure Doc, 10K, Addy, and Warren all mentally repeated that they 'were nowhere near the Grand Canyon'.

 

Wonder how many people they fooled with that.

 

Probably no one, seeing as how wherever they went, stupid things they did lead to consequences. Everywhere they went. Not just one place, not two- literally any time they came across a decent (or not decent) place, stupid shit happened.

 

He set his drink down after one last sip, leaning back in his chair as the headache he had before hit him again at full force. With more and more people running to get the vaccine, and more blends being added to the world, every couple seconds he'd get that same feeling of their conscience. He'd get their feelings, emotions, thoughts at times too.

 

It was starting to become slightly overbearing, each one adding more strain to him then the last. He rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath to try to get rid of the pain as more kept coming.

 

Sarah was happy.

 

David was scared.

 

Noah was joyful.

 

Archie was relieved.

 

Jess was fearful.

 

Ian was sad.

 

Sad? Why the hell is he sad?

 

"Hey." A feminine voice rang in his ears, gentle and quiet as he felt her shake his shoulder lightly. "Are you alright?"

 

He glanced over his shoulder, dropping his hands back to his side as he looked Roberta in the eyes. She seemed worried and confused, checking him over. He caught out of the corner of his eye as the others attention seemed to be directed towards him, but he tried not to pay much mind to it as he focused on Roberta.

 

"Yeah." It came out quieter that he expected, but he tried to make it filled with reassurance and questioning as to why they were worried about him. He knew why, but he just wanted to play it off in case it added suspicion back onto him.  "Just had to take a lot of my blood for the cure. I'll be fine."

 

Despite his reassurance, no one looked or felt quite convinced. The looks and his inability to convince them otherwise struck a tiny amount of fear to him. He worried that if he stayed here too much longer, he might just slip to them that he was turning the world into his blends. That they were his blends.

 

"I think I'm just gonna call it a night now." He stood up from his chair, wanting nothing more at the moment than to get away from them and be in his pain alone. "Night guys."

 

He scooted his chair back, disregarding the looks they gave one another as he rushed out of the room. He headed swiftly to the halls that held the one-bedroom rooms, fishing for the key to the door in his pocket, and pushing the door open without a seconds worth of hesitation.

 

He flicked the light on in his room, taking in the mess of some clothes in a pile and the sheets on his bed untidily shoved around. Some of the trinkets and cards that he had laid on the lonesome dresser pushed against the wall were displayed messily across it, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. He hadn't been in his room much since working on the vaccine, only coming in to get a couple hours of sleep.

 

Even then it didn't help much, his headache keeping him up most of the night, so he hadn't really pushed himself to clean up the room. And he didn't plan on doing it now either.

 

Grumbling, he plopped down on the bed, face pressing against the pillow, arms hanging lazily down the side of the bed, his feet following a similar pattern. He pushed his face harder into the pillow, groaning as another onslaught of occupants became blends.

 

Nina was relieved.

 

Trey was delighted.

 

Julio was worried.

 

Robert was stressed.

 

More and more kept coming and he wished nothing more than to push every single one of their emotions away. It kept piling up, giving him mixed signals as their emotions ran along with each other. He wanted to turn it all off. Shut their minds off and let him relax in peace. He just wanted it to stop.

 

He couldn't though and he knew this. He already planned for this headache prior.

 

Murphy pushed himself up, searching his desk for the Tylenol bottle he was able to snatch from the lab. He wished he had asked Doc before for something, given the man was a walking arsenal of narcotics. Upon finding the bottle, he dumped one onto his hand, looking at it. Was one enough?

 

The pounding of the headache hit him harder this time.

 

Another one…or two might be enough.

 

Gripping three in his hand, he swallowed them back dry, not particular caring for how it felt at the moment. He just wanted this damn headache to subside for a few minutes.

 

Throwing himself back onto his bed, he rolled over to where he was almost touching the wall, hands covering his ears when it felt like he could hear every little sound in the building. His head felt like it was pulsating, and his brain felt like it was about to explode, but slowly the pills started to work their magic for him.

 

Murphy wasn't sure how long he laid there, motionless and still, but all too soon the peace that he hid himself in was ruined by a knocking on the door. With a groan, he moved so he was lying on his back.

 

"Go away!" It wasn't really a yell. More of a grumble like a pouting teenager.

 

"Murphy. Open the damn door." Roberta sternly called. He could feel her emotions; worried above all as he heard her slide her hand across the door another time.

 

He knew he wouldn't be able to get her to go away, no matter how much convincing he did, so reluctantly he pulled himself up and groggily made it to the door. It wasn't a far walk, but he managed to trip twice and had to use the wall for support just to get there.

 

His hand reached for the doorknob, but he hesitated as he hovered over it. What was he going to tell her? Sure he said that it was from them taking blood, but he was pretty sure she didn't fully trust that. No, he was practically 100% sure because reading her emotions revealed that she knew otherwise.

 

Gathering himself to face whatever questioning Roberta had for him, he sighed and turned to doorknob fully, allowing her to come in. He watched as she put her hands on her hips, forehead creased as she looked him over. She didn't make a move to come in, so Murphy pushed the door open wider, arms revealing that she was allowed to walk into his room.

 

"Well don't just stand out there." He motioned to his messy bed, leaning against the door for support as she carefully analyzed him and his room. Warren took cautious steps, quick to move her feet from the clothes that were strewn across the floor in some places. Once in a clear spot, she turned to him, raising an eyebrow in question to his 'design'.

 

"It's been a long couple months." He waved her off, letting go of the door to make it to his bed. He was stopped short, tripping over his own two feet again as he tried to get to the bed. Roberta caught him, supporting half his weight as she tried to drag him over to sit down.

 

He tried to help, picking up his feet slightly but the more vaccination of blends didn't help, and the Tylenol was worth nothing against it at the moment.

 

Once seated, Roberta by his side, his grabbed his head in his hands, pushing against it in hopes that it would take away the pain. It didn't of course, but it wasn't like he expected anything different.

 

Warren noticed it, that he was in pain, and went to remove his hands. Gently, she put them at his side before placing her own hand on his forehead. She thought he was sick.

 

"I'm not sick, Roberta." He removed her hand from his head, pushing himself back to the end of the bed so he could prop himself up against the wall. Roberta shifted with him, crossing her legs in front of her as she too leaned her head and back against the wall. He watched from the corner of his eye as she titled her head towards him, carefully inspecting him over.

 

"Just checking." He craned his neck to look at her, the headache dying down a little.

 

"Thanks, but there's no need to." He didn't need them on his tail about this. Headache or not it would only lead them farther on his trail about what he had been doing these past few months…It felt like everything looped back around to that. To hiding that he was the one behind all of this. He could never just bring up anything without worrying it would alert someone to the bigger picture.

 

"I don't want to lose 'The Murphy' after he just saved humanity." She lightly bumped against his shoulder, a small smile forming at her lips, but her eyes didn't convey that same gentle message. Nor did her emotions; concern and worry laced with every look she gave and every word she spoke.

 

"Can't get rid of me that easily. Kid may be a cockroach, but you all know that I come close second." She gave a breathy laugh, looking away from him as she did so, seeming to be pulled deep into thought. He, however, took the opportunity to close his eyes, sighing contently at the lack of blends being made. Maybe the crowds died down? He counted that as a blessing because now he only had to worry about the rampant thoughts of all those he did just make.

 

He didn't plan on shutting anyone down at the moment besides the eleven scientists, doctors, and of course mindless Darren, but that was enough for now even though he knew it still wasn't much help in the long run.

 

Murphy tried to clear some of their thoughts, trying to focus on some of the nicer feelings instead to take his mind off of the pain. It helped somewhat until he heard shuffling out in the halls. It sounded like seven…no, eight people maybe. Possibly trying to be stealthy, but with the thin walls, it didn't seem to be working in their favor.

 

He cracked open an eye, peeking towards Roberta to see if she noticed it too. If she did, she gave no indication as her concern only fell on him. "What's really bothering you? It can't just be from the blood."

 

He shifted to look at her properly, shoulder only leaning against the wall now as he crossed his left leg over his right which was dangling off the side of the bed. "Trust me, it is. Felt like this after Zona went to work on a cure. It gets better in a few days." Hopefully it gets better in a few days. He really didn't want this carrying on for weeks--or months either. With his luck though, it was bound to happen that way.

 

She shook her head, eyes moving away from him at the mention of Zona. "Yeah, and you had a lot of other things to take your mind off it at Zona." Her gaze returned to him, arching an eyebrow as she gave him a knowing look.

 

"Shame we couldn't stay there longer. It was nice." He moved back up against the wall, partially focusing on Warren while also trying to listen to whoever was outside of the room. "You know…besides the wackos or the cure failing. Felt like Pre-Z before it all crumpled down, but ya know. Just like everything else we come across."

 

"No arguments there." She agreed as she sighed, closing her eyes. "We're getting closer to that though. What life was like before the apocalypse." She turned back towards him, but without even looking at her, he was able feel the hope she had for the situation rise.

 

"Shitty without zombies trying to eat your brains? Guess that's better." His plan was better though. No zombies. No fear. Only death when it was by natural causes. A world worth living in.

 

Warren rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly as she played with her hands in her lap. "Shouldn't have expected you to say anything positive, should I have?" It was amusement that betrayed her as tried to keep a stern voice.

 

"I was born like this. Ever since you meant me, I've been the 'ray of sunshine' out of the whole group. Well, besides Doc." Mr. Congeniality, the Savior of Humanity, the Messiah, Big Red One; all the nicknames he never thought he'd have and all of them were positive even though most of them were meant sarcastically towards him. 'Ray of sunshine' might as well be added onto the list.

 

"More like a whole damn burst of sunshine." She teased, her smile growing as she tried to hide her laugh. Murphy smirked in reply, basking in the joy she felt at the moment. It took away from the pain momentarily and he was all the more thankful for it.

 

"What can I say? I'm a natural."

 

"You sure are." She let her head drop, hands coming up to her face as she rubbed her tired eyes. He could feel her lack of energy, and her yawning seemed to clarify enough.

 

"Haven't been sleeping well?" Roberta turned towards him, somewhat quickly as she let her shoulders sag.

 

"Just been up most nights since we we're told what might go down…I didn't think I was going to make it." She lowered her voice at the last part, the fear from before only slightly making its way into her voice.

 

"Hey." Murphy pushed himself off of the wall, suppressing a groan as the action caused the headache to increase slightly. He grabbed her hands which had been playing nervously together, one habit he hadn't seen Warren ever do. "You were the one to have hope, remember? We agreed on that."

 

"I know." Her eyes stared deeply into his, fear showed as she swallowed hard. "I just couldn't help but think, what if. What if I died and all those people refused? I mean, I know I'm dead--but fully? Ya know?"

 

He did know. Back before Zona took him and Warren, he had just found out he had been dead for four years. He didn't really have time to cope with it until after they had been brought to Zona, and even then, he didn't have any of the others to really talk to it about. Sure, he had the rich snobs milling around living luxurious lives to talk with, but it wasn't the same as joking around with Doc or Roberta and actually feeling like he was having a heart-to-heart conversation.

 

"I know...trust me. But you got used to it, and the cure didn't do anything to you."  He squeezed her hands once gently and she returned her attention back to him. "Everyone's okay now. You, me, the team…the world."

 

She let go of his hands, giving him a grateful smile before standing up. "Almost. We still have to distribute it."

 

"We?" Did that mean she was staying?

 

"Yes, we. I told George I'd help out in any way I could. Cooper said he'd take care of the farm while I'm here." She smiled towards him, seeming to remember his dislike for her leaving the first time. The fact that she decided to stay, even if it entitled more work for all of them, brought a smile to his face as well.

 

"Cooper getting the shot before he heads off to be farm boy again?" He hadn't been giving the man as rough of a time as he usually did with people who--let's say, lock people in trunks and think about murdering them. He reasoned that if he did, Roberta probably wouldn't be happy.

 

"Tomorrow before he leaves." She confirmed, carefully making her way to the door. She was about to turn the doorknob before he shot up from the bed to stop her. There was still those 'creepers' out in the hall. He could only hear a little bit of shuffling, but the noise still alerted him that those people were there.

 

Warren gave him a confused look as he pushed her out of the way, blocking her from the door. "Wait!"

 

"Why?" Her confusion turned into her seriousness as her hand instinctively made their way to her knife strapped to her waist.

 

"I heard people out there." He kept his voice in a whisper. "Couple of 'em, and they're still there." Of course, they could just be random citizens milling around in the hallway, but why were they being so quiet then? No talking? Just moving around in the halls for no apparent reason?

 

Having the information, Warren took the knife, firmly grasping it in her hands as Murphy took his own off of his dresser. He knew that wasn't the safest place to keep it, but like he said, 'it was a long couple of months.'

 

He slowly turned the knob, Roberta pushing through in front of him as he pulled himself out the door. They both walked close to the walls, something Murphy was thankful for because he wasn't sure he could walk properly without its support. Roberta signaled him to stop when they were nearing the corner, motioning for him to follow her lead and be cautious if the people were still around the corner. 

 

Silently, she counted down and as her finger hit one, she pushed around the corner, knife aimed to whoever was there. It didn't take long before a surprised yelp meant their ears, more familiar voices chiming into whatever was going on.

 

"Hey-hey! It's me, Warren!" Doc?

 

Still using the wall as a support, he swiftly rounded the corner to see Roberta on top of Doc, knife pressed against his throat; 10K, Red, George, Addy, Simon, Kaya and Cooper all standing around the scene trying to calm whatever the situation escalated into.

 

"Doc? What the hell were you guys doin'?" Roberta's incredulous tone almost chastised them.

 

"We were making sure you guys were okay. Do you--uh--mind getting the knife away from my throat now? Please?"

 

With an apology, she laughed slightly as she got off of Doc and helped him off of the ground. It wasn't even a moment later that she wacked his arm lightly, giving the others a stern look.

 

"I could've killed you! What were you thinking ease-dropping on us during the apocalypse?"

 

"I told you guys it was a bad idea." Addy chimed in from her spot beside Simon and George.

 

"You were the one to recommend we go check on them." George fired back, turning to the redhead.

 

"Yeah, check on them. Not peep around the corner to try to listen in on their conversation."

 

"Guys!"  With the playful bickering and the headache coming back again, he wasn't sure how much more he could handle. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful that it was just the group instead of another fight or not, but either way he knew it would just drain him from the energy he already lacked.

 

 "If you're gonna bicker, mind doin' it somewhere else. People are trying to sleep here." He motioned back towards his bedroom, the door still wide open from his and Roberta's attack on the 'creeps' in the hall.

 

Roberta patted him on the back, gently in case the action caused him to lose balance. He was able to hold up fine against it, the wall being a great support as his feet finally stood perfectly planted on the ground. "He's right. We'll head back and let Murphy get his beauty rest."

 

"Could use some yourself, Warren." She playfully glared back at him over her shoulder as her and the group shuffled down the hallway and out of sight.

 

Even with the headache and his dull amount of energy, he felt it fade slightly as he laid back down on the bed. With the peace from the others and his own, he was able to drift off to sleep without the pain from the blends' active minds.

 

---line break----

 

It's just another day. Make the best of it.

 

I can't take this anymore.

 

With the zombies dying down I might finally be able to see my family again.

 

I have nothing left! Why do I even stay here anymore?

 

It's over. This might be the peace I've been looking for.

 

I knew hope would come along one day!

 

The sound of the blends' thoughts snapped Murphy awake, leaving him in a cold sweat as he sat upright in his bed. Sad, happy, hopeful just anything and everything that they could feel pounding down on him. He couldn't even get a night's sleep without hearing it.

 

He groaned to himself, flopping back down on the bed, grabbing the pillow and shoving it over his face. It was a failed attempt to block out any of it, so he chucked the pillow across the room out of frustration. It hit the wall with a quiet thud before falling to the ground on top of his folded clothes.

 

It wasn't terribly bad right now, even though it was the evening, and the blends were still bustling around in the streets. Slowly he was starting to get used to hearing every single thought and feeling. In Spokane, all those people had been under his command which had lightened the blow for massive headaches like these. However, here in Altura, he wasn't controlling everyone. There was only maybe twenty-one people that knew they were blends, and after two weeks of the vaccine being given out, it was a very small percentage of blends knowing.

 

He was pretty sure nearly everyone in Altura had gotten it, minus a few bunches who were skeptical, but other than those few, Altura was filled with blends. It left a dent in the 20,000 vaccinations already created, which was good to know that they were one step closer to the peace he was offering.

 

Other people, close or not, flocked to Altura to get it too, which left the vaccine wearing thin. He got the scientist right on the job to make more, this time nearing 25,000. He knew it would take a few months, and getting the whole world vaccinated would probably take a few years, but it was a start. A start to a new and better future.

 

Murphy pushed himself up into a sitting position in his bed again, the tiredness he had from before slowly leaving him as he woke up fully. He promised himself that it would only be a quick nap, but that seemed to be about three hours ago, so the idea of 'quick' was out the window.

 

He wanted to get a little more energy from it, seeing as how today he and the group were going to meet up together for a quick hangout. Murphy knew better though than to assume it was just that. The team had hung out quite a lot recently as they all helped out with distributing and spreading the news, and today with their day off, Murphy wasn't quite sure why they would decide to use it to hang out even more. Sure, he understood that it was comforting and fun to be with each other, but after a while you kind of get tired of hanging out with the same people.

 

Not that Murphy was going to complain now though because over these past weeks it had been nice to hang out more. Despite years on end with being together, most times they hadn't been able to relax in the presence of one another. There was always a mission or the threat of zombies, and it never really provided time for actual relaxation. Yeah, there had been down times when they would hang out while on the road or what-not, but it felt different now.

 

With the cure distributed and none of them having to worry about being a meal to the zombies, it started to bring that normalcy that you only had before the zombie apocalypse; and from that it felt odd but nice in the same way. They didn't have to worry about a mission now, nor did they have to solve some mystery for a better future. Instead, they were only tasked with helping get that normalcy to everyone else.

 

And with that, it also provided times for them to hang out like the zombies didn't exist anymore. The conversations wouldn't stay like that for long though, considering ' the zombie apocalypse' had been ingrained into their everyday thinking for the past decade, but sometimes it would contain normal themes. Without having to worry about all the things before that is. So, to say the least, today was another day to hang out with the group, but Murphy knew there was another underlying fact.

 

There was probably something the group (if not one or maybe two members) wanted to bring up that they knew about. It was sort of an out-of-the-blue planning anyways, so that led him closer to this theory. He didn't think it had anything to do with them finding out about the blends, but he did think that it pertained to the cure. Everything now pertained to the cure.

 

Again, not that he would complain.

 

Finding that it was useless to sit on his bed any longer, Murphy headed over to the pile of folded clothes. He grabbed the tattered pillow, tossing it back over to his bed before picking up the clothes. They were a warm set of clothes (as always when you're in Canada in the winter) with a leather jacket and the brown beanie to go with it. It wasn't as fashionable as he liked, but his apocalyptic fashion statements had died down some ever since he came back to Altura. He figured if he really wanted; he could head to Limbo and pick out some better clothes strewn around the place, but he hadn't really found time to do so. Anyways, he wasn't really keen on cleaning up that place at the moment either.

 

Once the thick shirt and jeans were on, the hat the only thing that remained in his hands, he glanced to the mirror hanging above the dresser. He was meant back with his dark red complexation, odd gold eyes that seemed to droop slightly, and his usual air missing with only a tired stare in return. Murphy ran a hand through his goatee, closing his eyes and sighing.

 

When had he started to look so…dead?

 

He hadn't thought he lived up to what he actually was these past few months. He still felt like himself, but he didn't look like it. Was he acting the same? He thought he was. Despite everything going on, he still thought he held up his usual cocky, joking, half cheerful-most times not type attitude. Maybe he hadn't…

 

No, he was sure he had. Sure, he always got stares, but that was a constant-- so whatever they were didn't really faze him anymore. He might not look too good at the moment, but he still acted the same. What he felt varied, but he had other ways to help him with that.

 

Doc being one of them.

 

The older man was always known to the public as someone who carried narcotics on him 24/7. Murphy wasn't sure how, but everyone picked up on the fact of it. It sometimes provided troubles for the group, seeing as how Doc gave off that vibe, some curious groups liked to come and rob them for it when they were on the road. It stopped now, the groups coming to steal from them that is.

 

So, because of Doc, Murphy was able to keep how he was feeling in check. With the older hippie's conscience and feelings in the back of Murphy's mind; all he'd have to do in zero in on it, and the effects of whatever drug (or possible Z-Weed) Doc had used affected him as well. Quite a nifty trick really, especially when Murphy didn't have any of his own, Doc always had his back with it.

 

Given, Doc didn't actually know that Murphy was doing this, but it still helped.

 

He wouldn't call it 'using' Doc per say--in a negative sense that is. He was technically using Doc to help him compensate for the pain and all, but not using him to where it would be considered taking advantage of. Right?

 

Yeah…and he didn't do it often either, so it wouldn't be classified as using.

 

Now though, Murphy did have to zero in on how Doc felt. He wanted to be at his best for the group today, and right now--he didn't feel like it. It would be quick anyways and Doc wouldn't even notice. That is, Doc had never noticed before, so he didn't think now would be any different.

 

Releasing a breath, he searched through his blends, trying to find Doc's conscience among the many. Too bad the whole thing wasn't in alphabetical order…

 

It took some time, searching and feeling all those under his control, but he finally came across Doc--who already seemed far calmer than ever. The feeling hit him drastically at first, causing him to stumble forward and use the dresser as a support, but he got used to it--relishing in the feeling.

 

Like he said before though, he was quick to do so, leaving the link between him and the older man faster than he had found it. Now feeling calmer and more ready than before, Murphy adjusted the beanie back onto his head, careful to make sure he didn’t mess up his hair. Not that it mattered since he hadn't exactly brushed it after his 'nap', but hey! -- It was the natural beauty that counted, right?

 

It didn't take very long to make it back to the bar (the usual hang out spot) with him using short cuts and exits. It was cold out today, so most times he would rather he travel inside then out. Thus, the short-cuts and all. Not only did it keep him from freezing his ass off, but it also cut his travel time in half. He hadn't been the kind of guy to get to a place ten minutes early, but the saying always went that people change! He was no exception to that.

 

Murphy stepped through the entrance of the bar, greeted now by more people than he thought. By his count there was only ten people, but it was still more than he first assumed would come into the place. Given, today was most people's day off, so he shouldn't really expect anything less of people drowning themselves in alcohol. Especially given some of his blends' thoughts this morning.

 

He scanned the crowd of people, finally seeing the top of Doc's white hair peeking out amongst it. He pushed his way forward, squeezing between the tables that were occupied, and was able to come up upon the one table near the steps to the balcony landing. It was only a single table that the group stayed at today; Doc, Addy, Warren, 10K, and himself the only ones hanging out at the moment. He had gotten news that George may show up, but plans change so he had no clue.

 

Murphy quickly pulled out a seat from there, turning it so that he was able to rest his hands on top of the back of it. The group seemed to be in a discussion already. From what he could gather, they were debating over music pre-apocalypse. It was more-so between Doc and Addy, Warren chiming in with her opinion every so often, and 10K remaining more clueless than not over the whole matter. Murphy resigned to staying out of it, knowing all too well that his added opinion would heat the debate further.

 

After a few drinks though, he couldn't keep his mouth shut as he too joined in on the playful banter. He sided with Doc more, Warren changing between the two sides at times, and Addy sticking firm to who she thought was the most influential music artist. " No way! Michael Jackson definitely beats Elvis."

 

"How much can you compare them? Michael Jackson is the King of Pop. You can't say his music is better when Elvis was the King of Rock and Roll."

 

"He's got you there, Baby Girl."

 

"Whose side are you on now, Warren?"

 

It continued further from there, sometimes their voices raising and drawing attention from the other tables. They weren't immensely loud (Murphy could point out a few groups in here that were louder than them) but it was enough to draw attention. Unwanted attention at that.

 

It took all of Murphy's control not to walk up to the three 'regular humans' sitting at the table at the far side of the bar who were glaring at them. Not for their noise level, but for what they were. Talker, dead, vaccinated, blend; it was that which made those three line their faces with scowls and scoff or roll their eyes when they thought they weren't being watched.

 

 He hated it, and he didn't have control of them either (since they weren't vaccinated with the blend/cure vaccine) so if he wanted them to stop, he would have to confront them. Whether that be with force or not was left unsaid.

 

He didn't though because even more unwanted attention would be drawn to the scene, and he would rather it wouldn't. Today was a day he could spend relaxing with his group, basking in their joy filled feelings, and arguing over pointless subjects they would probably forget tomorrow. It was nice, and even though he wished it would never end, it did.

 

He felt Warren's mood shift to slightly serious before he even saw it. She straightened up, reaching behind her to her leather satchel draped across her chair and pulled out a few papers with it.

 

"What's those for?" The focus of the others turned to him, then Warren as they eyed what she was doing.

 

"Work…for tomorrow." She clarified, notifying they still had the day off.

 

"What for this time?" Doc asked, shifting in his seat to grab the sheet of paper pushed across the table to him.

 

"I was waiting for George to come, but seeing as how she isn't; I'll explain. We got assigned setting up temporary vaccination outposts."

 

Addy groaned slightly, setting her paper down and letting her head fall back against her chair. "Just got back and we're splitting up again?"

 

"Sorry." It wasn't much of an apology on Warren's part, seeing as how a job was a job and it had to get done. "I'll be stationed on the east by West Virginia to get all those close by."

 

Addy let out a laugh, gaze lingering back on her paper. "Kansas…Guess there's no place like home after all."

 

"Got any red shoes to go with it?" Murphy teased, smirking as she rolled her eye. 

 

"Hopefully I don't get sucked up by a tornado. Not like it could take me anywhere worse than the apocalypse."

 

"Z-nado." 10K chimed in, receiving a light punch in the arm by Addy as she chuckled, reminiscing back to the flinging, green tornado back in Missouri.

 

Doc set down his paper next, pushing it over to 10K to look at. "Well kid, looks like we got the travel bus."

 

"Through Montana to Arizona?" 10K raised his scarred eyebrow, glancing around the table before keeping his gaze on Doc who slung his arm around the young adult's shoulders.

 

"Just remember--"

 

"We were nowhere near the Grand Canyon." They all agreed, giggling like a pack of sugar high teenage girls.

 

It broke too soon as he looked around the table for his own paper. Why didn't he get one? He knew he had everyone's trust (at least most people's) so they really shouldn't expect him to do anything stupid to mess it up.

 

"What about me?" He tried to not make himself sound whiny, and he didn't sound so much so.

 

"Don't worry, princess. We got a job for you too." She handed him a paper, only a few sentences written in George's careful handwriting along the top.

 

It consisted of his own name, fully displayed in all its glory as "Alvin Bernard Murphy." Below it were eleven other people's names with the state they would reside in, and the amount of time each one would stay on the mission. He didn't recognize any of the people he would be grouped with, and the time of 'one year' beside his name wasn't really intriguing either.

 

The state was, however. Thing was, with all these people in Altura as his blends, he could easily manipulate a situation into his favor. He knew that today something was going to be brought up, and even though he had an idea that this maybe it, he wasn't too sure. Now seeing the state name written down, he knew what he did actually worked.

 

He may or may not have been going through George's thoughts to see that she was assigning people's outpost locations; and he may or may not have sort of imposed the thought into her will that he should be placed in Florida.

 

Doc looked over Murphy's shoulder, catching a glimpse of the state Murphy was stationed in. "Florida? Well call ya lucky."

 

Lucky? Yeah right.

 

"Plan on lying on the beach getting more sunburned than you already look?" Addy asked, her now smirking at him as he stuck his tongue out at her like a child.

 

"I'm rockin' this look and you know it." He accused, pointing his finger at her.

 

"Sure, Murphy. Like the Devil himself." Her paper now abandoned on the table, she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over one another.

 

"And mind you." He started, "I wasn't the one to pick it out." Oh, he definitely was. " It's not like I'm gonna abuse the chance to catch some sun lying in the sand." He was going to do that too.

 

"I'll believe it when I see it." Doc's amusement towards the situation was undeniable as he joined along with Addy.

 

"Guess you won't be there to see it then. You got another road trip ahead of you." Murphy figured they all got around a year's worth trip before they were called back here. At least, from reading George's thoughts he knew they were all assigned one-year lengths.

 

"Lucky us." Doc's amusement switched to sarcasm quickly as he shoved his paper to the middle as well.

 

"Aw, it won't be too bad." Playful as her tone was, Warren shook her head in amusement to the bickering at the table. "And you all know we don't have to be there to know Murphy's gonna be relaxing in the sun."

 

They knew him so well.

 

Despite all of them knowing it was fully true, he decided he'd feign mock offense, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Such faith you all have in me."

 

"C'mon, Murphy. Wouldn't be the first time." Doc replied.

 

It looked like all of them were enjoying the conversation; their smirks and smiles a major indicator of it. It left Murphy feeling glad that he did actually come today. That he hadn't decided to ditch just for a day to himself. Although, even though he had assigned himself away from the group--something he should have paid closer attention to when reading George's thoughts-- he figured a year wouldn't be too bad. A long time of course, but at least with them being his blends, he would constantly feel their presence and know how they were holding up.

 

Scooting his chair in further, he was about to retort a remark before 10K's and Addy's eyes shifted behind him. Warren was next, sitting straighter in her chair as she raised an eyebrow. Doc's smile fell into a frown--the joy they all felt before turning into one of concern and curiosity.

 

This wasn't good.

 

Murphy turned around slowly, eyeing the three people that had come up behind the group. One was an older fellow with graying hair styled in a military cut. A scowl lined his wrinkled and creased face as his bloodshot black eyes glared at the members of the group. His scowl deepened as he looked at Murphy, nose scrunching up in almost an irritated look as he continued to stare.

 

Kent Hudson: One of his newest blends.

 

Another was a female, older as well but younger than Kent. She had a few streaks of gray strands, all curling down her face as it mixed into her brown hair. She too had an angered expression, gripping tightly to a woozily standing bulky man beside her. He was younger, possibly mid-forties, as he tried to stand in place. Following the same pattern as the others, he had a deepened scowl, narrowing eyes in a glare as they trailed along to each of the group. He seemed livid as his deep aqua eyes landed on Murphy.

 

Madalyn Davis and Scott Winchester.

 

"May I help you?" Murphy knew what they felt, strong amounts of fear and hatred boiling up inside of the trio blends as they stared at him.

 

"Yeah," Scott spat as his eyes turned fully to Murphy. Nothing but hate being conveyed. "You can help us."

 

Murphy turned slightly, watching as Warren's right hand (crossed against her chest) was slowly making its way down to her gun. Her face remained unchanging, holding a determination and stoic flair to it as she took in the trio. "With what?" Her voice turned gentler, more in mock as she titled her head to the obviously drunk man. "If you mind me asking?"

 

Scott only glared harder, his gaze shifted to her, as he pointed to the exit out of the bar. "How 'bout we start with all you leaving." He slurred aggressively.

 

"Excuse me?" Addy asked, clearly unhappy as her voice rose. Slight warning hinted as she arched her eyebrow.

 

"You heard him. We don't need any inhuman beings wandering around with the living. Puts the rest of us in danger." Kent challenged back; voice harsh with a threat in it.

 

Oh, he was not having this today. It was bad enough that they had the three 'regulars' glaring at them all morning, but they did not need this drama today.

 

"Now who are you calling 'inhuman', Buddy?"  Murphy rose, the others following a similar action as occupants of the bar watched on with curiosity to the scene playing out.

 

Kent moved forward, coming close as he bulked up in front of Murphy, trying to be more dominant in this situation. If only he knew.

 

"I'm calling you and your little posse of misfits behind you inhuman, Buddy." Kent retorted, a bite in his words as he nearly spat them with distaste.

 

"I wouldn't be so cocky yourself." His anger rose, nearly making him forget that he wasn't supposed to be revealing that blends were being created worldwide.

 

"We're more human than most of the people at this table." Madalyn spoke for the first time, letting go of Scott's shoulder to move beside Kent. "And much more innocent than you." She added, eyeing Murphy down.

 

"What did you just say?" Had she just called him guilty? Of what? Being fashionably handsome in any color or clothes that he dawned? If so, she'd hit right on the mark with that one.

 

"I said, 'we have less crimes and blood on our hands than you.'"

 

"Well, you obviously haven't established manners with that then." Addy nearly snarled sarcastically, moving forward to only be stopped short by 10K for the time being. Both already with weapons just in reach in case anything were about to happen.

 

"I have better manners than taking and enslaving people, that's for sure."

 

Murphy's breath caught in his throat as she said that. Did she know? How would she know?

 

"Nobody's taking or enslaving anyone. All anyone's been doing is minding their own business before you showed up." Warren shot back.

 

"Not now!" Madalyn was near rage as she shot past Kent and made her way closer to the group, fuming with anger. "My daughter went to Spokane to get ' the cure'. She went to be free without fear! I haven't heard from her for almost five years now! I haven't seen my baby because you did something to her!" She pointed her finger to Murphy's chest accusingly, pushing hard as she shoved it at him.

 

He didn't remember Madalyn's daughter. Even looking at the woman, he didn't have a clue who her daughter had been. She didn't look similar to those in Limbo, so he'd have to admit that her daughter was probably taken by Zona along with all of those held hostage and experimented on.

 

"I don't know who you're talking about." He didn't but he was sure her daughter had been one of his blends at some point.

 

"You liar!" Kent joined in again too, face screwed up in rage as he pushed Madalyn aside. "You think that everyone will just forget about blends…you think that helping the Talkers' is better? All you-" He pointed to Murphy this time before motioning to the group. "All any of you have been doing is helping the wrong side! Just helping the dead to dominate the world, or the blends to be under someone's rule!"

 

"What's so wrong with being a blend?" Addy crossed her arms over her chest, twitching with anger. "An uncontrolled blend that is." She shot a quick glance at Murphy before looking back to the trio.

 

"Just proves that you’re a danger to society then. We were working to build the world back for humans--not all these sub-divisions of that." Madalyn argued back.

 

"This world was being built for all those. We got a cure going for you--for Talkers and humans alike. There're no 'sub-divisions' that'll put you in any more danger." He knew that Warren knew that was partly a lie, but he also knew that what she was saying (unbeknownst to her) was a complete lie.  At least, in the way she was putting it.

 

"And yet here you stand before me. Hard to tell me that when your hearts not beating, right?" Scott mocked, him now being the one to stand at the front of the trio.

 

He could see that Warren was holding back all she could to not smack the guy across the head, but this was pulling at the last straws for Murphy.  "I think it'll be better if you leave." Her voice went dangerously low as she spoke to the trio.

 

It changed in that spilt second as Scott raised his gun, unsteady in his grip but a loaded weapon all the same. The group reacted quickly, weapons drawn on the man as Scott held it up towards Warren and traveled across the group with it. "And you expect me to listen to some freaks of nature?"

 

He knew the remark didn't even faze the group, even with the healing wounds of coming to terms with not being completely the same, the group knew how to handle sly remarks made to give the opposer the upper hand. They didn't take the bait for it; if anything, only becoming more angered with how the situation was escalating than insecure. It didn't matter to Murphy though, already bringing him to the brink of breaking at this cocky, holier-than-thou drunk.

 

"Hey now!" Doc rose, hands raised as he tried to make peace with the trio standing before them. "No need for violence. We're all just trying to have a good time together--human or not."

 

"I don't have to take orders from some non-human hybrid."

 

"Then listen to your fellow human." Doc gestured to himself, meekly to show that he wasn't doing anything other to get shot--Scott's aim now on him. "None of us are lookin' for any trouble."

 

"If you're with them, as a human, you're already trouble enough." Scott's aim went back to Murphy, finger hovering over the trigger as it wobbled in his grip. "And I plan on taking out the one who caused most of the trouble in the past."

 

"You don't want to do that." He kept his voice low, getting spoken over by Warren.

 

"Murphy hasn't been causing any more trouble than any of you are. Right now, you three are the ones creating problems."

 

The gun wavered, almost changing to aim at Warren before sticking on Murphy. "Better to take out past problems before we focus on new ones, yes?" Scott's drunken look switched to almost a sinister smirk, a deadly look in his eyes.

 

"Murphy isn't the problem anymore. We don't look at the past--we're focusing on how to help build up a better future."

 

"Maybe the past is the key to the future. Kill the man that caused death and destruction in his wake, then kill the rest that follow along the lines."

 

"Murphy's changed…he's not like that anymore." 10K defending him was unexpected, catching him off guard for a second as he looked back to the sniper. His neutral face covering his anger--gun raised much like Addy and Doc who stood near him.

 

"Then prominent problems first." Scott's movement was quick again, switching to aim at Warren; near her throat but slightly off kilter. "Let's see how many bullets it takes for you all to go down."

 

Maybe it wouldn't be law enforcers that he was worried about--much of what made him want to fuse the blend vaccine and cure together--but it was the diabolical people that would set this off. He knew what he made it for; this being one of the reasons, and he wasn't about to waste the option of doing so. Not with other blends around, or regulars…not even with his group. All of them were being threatened at gun point, and if he could stop it, he would.

 

Moving in front of Scott before he could pull the trigger on Warren, he was meant with cries of his name from his group. He had never been one to take a bullet for someone, and the fearful cries his group gave were because they thought he was about to do so.

 

Just they wait and see.

 

"I don't think there's a need for that. Do you?" He put more control on the three, hindering them from any further actions as he pushed the barrel of the gun down so that it was pointed towards the floor.

 

"What the h-" He cut Kent off from speaking, staring expectantly at Scott for an answer. The man's drunken features more alert now as a scared look passed over his face.

 

"N...n-no." It was more forced trying to get the man to respond as Scott choked the words out.

 

"Right…so why are you here?"  The faster he could get the trio to leave the better.

 

"I…don't--" Baffled by his own actions and inability to speak properly, his head turned ever so slightly to Madalyn and Kent, but they weren't in a better position than he was.

 

"You think it's better to leave then?"

 

Leave--Now.

 

With the growled command in their minds, fearful looks in their eyes, the trio started to walk away. Unsure with why they were doing so, but their actions weren't jagged even when they tried to stop themselves. They exited the bar, the silence of all those in the bar--especially the group--stretching out uncomfortably.

 

 Murphy wanted to believe that he and the group could just go back to relaxing together now. He wanted to believe that they didn't even notice, or they were all fine with it. Like it was just a regular Tuesday or something.

 

It was a pipedream though. He could feel their fear. He could feel the seriousness, and the air become thick around them.

 

They knew.

 

He let his head fall, sighing as he commanded all the others in the bar to leave. All of them, besides the 'regular humans' followed on command. Each and every one of the blends following mindlessly to the simple command, carefully retreating out the door to leave him and the team with some space. The three 'regulars' seemed greatly disturbed of the matter, and since none of them particularly cared for anyone in the group, they all got up and left in a hurry.

 

Hopefully they weren't a problem later.

 

"Murphy…" Warren's tone was demanding, almost reprimanding but without gentleness. Instead, that gentleness that was sometimes held there was replaced by fear. He didn't even have to look behind him to know how she or the others looked. "They weren't your blends."

 

It was a statement, not a question, as she directed it towards him.

 

They knew. They knew. They knew. They knew.

 

As much as he knew this was going to happen, he really didn't want it to. He knew one of the hardest parts was going to be confronting the group with this information. He knew they wouldn't like it--not at all-- but he wished it hadn't been under these circumstances.

 

He turned on his heel to face the group. His faced filled with a mixture of nervousness, calmness, and slight sympathy as he looked them all over. They were shifting uncomfortably, some gazes switching between the door and him; others never leaving him, a clear indicator of the return of distrust.

 

"They weren't." They all knew where this was going. He could feel it as their fears spiked higher at his confirmation.

 

10K's was one of the most and Murphy could guess why. Like reliving his nightmares. Being a blend of Murphy's once again--under his command and in his head. 10K had just agreed that Murphy was a changed man, and now look. He hadn't planned on 10K defending him, but the act seemed to get up under the young adult's skin now. That he had just tried to clear the man who did the exact same thing he thought he hadn't done.

 

Poetic.

 

He knew what was going to happen before he saw it. 10K's left hand swiftly aiming his pistol to point towards Murphy. Not with the intent of killing, but for the need of the upper hand in a situation like this.

 

"Stop." Without moving, and only saying the command aloud this time, 10K's grip on the gun faltered as it hit the floor with a clang. The sniper went rigid, forced into place by the order given.

 

The others followed suit, the command ordered to them as well as their hands fell limply to their sides and their feet stuck planted firmly on the ground.

 

You red bastard! I knew you were up to something! Dammit!

 

Well, looked like 10K still knew how to use the mental link.

 

Murphy's unamused face fell upon 10K. "Real reassuring. Thanks, kid. I knew you wouldn't forget how to do that."

 

It seemed to confirm everything more than it already had. Panic rising higher--the peaceful atmosphere completely gone. It would be like this from now on. Whether he liked it or not.

 

"You made the blend vaccine?" Warren's voice rose with anger, not like the three blends prior, but deadly in the way he had always found her to be scary. "You didn't even do what Sun Mei trusted you with?!"

 

Being mad at him for making them his blends unknowingly was one thing; Accusing him of not doing something he did do was another.

 

"I did!" His voice rose drastically, slicing through the air with slight violence hinted behind. He calmed himself though because it wasn't the group he should be mad at. The scenario with the trio blends had gotten on his nerves, the regular's stares, and the thoughts and emotions of the blends throughout the day were putting him more on edge now. This conversation--one he had been trying to hold off-- was just added onto that list.

 

He took a deep breath, none of the group talking as they were engulfed in their fear and anger; unable to move from the position that he had them stationed in.

 

Murphy went back to take his own seat, pulling out his chair calmly and motioning for the group to do the same--with their own will.

 

"Why don't we sit down and talk over this…it might be easier." Nothing was going to be easier, but a man could hope.

 

None of them made an action to do so, staring at him with horror stricken and enraged faces as they watched him. Their weapons abandoned on their sides or dropped on the floors as their arms loosely hung against their sides.

 

Sighing to himself, knowing this was going to be much harder, he looked down at the table before glancing back towards the group.

 

"No?" They didn't respond, not because of his command but by their own doing. Pissed then. Great. "Take a seat…please."

 

Sit.

 

He wasn't as loud or harsh with his command as he was with some of the other blends. Nor was he as harsh with his control as he had been with 10K back in Spokane. He was more lenient at the moment, other than from keeping them from shooting him or running away.

 

They all followed this time, grabbing the chairs with jagged motions and plopping themselves down harsher than a regular person normally would. 10K, who Murphy hadn't given a booster of the vaccine to yet, shook with each movement. Whether it was because he was slightly less under his control than the others; fearful immensely from all of it happening all over again; or just because he was trying to fight back against the control again-- was unclear to Murphy.

 

He'd make sure he'd cover all bases later.

 

Addy let out a laugh of disbelief as she sat in her chair, stiff and rigid as her anger was completely portrayed across her face and in her voice. " So, this is what it feels like to be controlled. Lovely." It came out with a smiteful tone directed towards him, glaring eye turning to him fully.

 

"I didn't want to tell you this way…but I also don't want you shooting me. I had to keep some balance." The comment only made her glare harder.

 

"So, when were you planning on telling us that we were your blends? Huh? Were you even?" He never wanted to make any of them angry at him like this. He definitely didn't want to do that to Warren. He had tried to build up his relationships with them even more after the celebration. All of them. Even the zombie kill counting sniper who he called an enemy for some time.

 

He had been planning on telling them. At what time? He wasn't sure. He would have held it off as long as he could though. This conversation was not one he had been looking forward to, and despite all his planning and preparation on what he was going to say, it felt lost on his tongue as he took in their fuming anger of emotions or their fearful looks that they tried to conceal with that anger.

 

"I was…later."

 

Despite knowing all too well that he was going to tell them at some point, the moment he said it aloud--the less convincing it sounded.

 

"So, you were just going to play with us like your puppets that whole time? You plan on listening to our thoughts--control us? I thought you stopped. I thought you changed from that!" Warren bared her teeth to keep her from shouting louder, slightly by Murphy's command so unwanted attention wouldn't be drawn back to the bar.

 

"No…" That wasn't fully true. " Okay, maybe slightly. I don't want to control you! Not if I don't have to."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Doc, who had always been kind towards him (exempting the times when Murphy had messed up majorly), but now all that kindness was lost from his voice as he directed it towards Murphy.

 

"I can't let you stop me this time. I won't let that happen. This whole vaccine, it's supposed to save people-" He was cut off from explaining as Warren spoke.

 

"It's supposed to put people back under your control. The blend vaccine is supposed to make you dominant over all those who took it. That's not saving people, Murphy! That's taking away a person's free will."

 

"And where has free will ever gotten most people? All I've seen is people killing or destroying something beautiful. That's all humans know how to do. They can't rebuild--not without having a nuclear strike hidden behind their backs."

 

By themselves, without control, the world would be doomed. Death and destruction would be all that followed. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't.

 

"You're human, Murphy! You're no better!" Addy argued.

 

"Have you heard what everyone's been saying around us? I'm not--we're not human! It's been shoved in our faces more times than enough, and if I have a say--which I do--I'll do something about it." None of them went to talk, so he continued. "I mean, have you thought about it? Without someone to keep people in line, humans will just go back to murdering one another. I can stop that. I'll know! If someone tries to kill someone--guess who'll be right in the back of their minds to stop them?"

 

"I know that sounds nice to you, Murphy-" Warren started.

 

"It is! You thought about it! I know you have…Imagine a world like that, Roberta. No death or decimation--no one even has to fear anymore." He cut her off before she could continue, hoping he could convince her what he was doing was good because it was good.

 

"No one will have the right to talk anymore." 10K spoke up, glaring daggers at Murphy, his voice quiet but holding a deadly tone in it.

 

"I'm not holding you back now. You can speak freely like all the others."

 

"Is that what you tell Dr. Zelis?" So 10K had caught on to who were blends. He supposed they would catch onto that sooner or later given Hazel couldn't have known that much about them unless she had an outside source who had been with the group.

 

"Dr. Zelis was a danger to this future. If she had her own control--you know what she'd do? She would stop it all! She'd keep people from living in peace. That's all anyone wants, right? That's all we've been trying to provide. Hope and peace! With me--I can build that future to be even better than what we were trying to accomplish. You all know that!"

 

They didn't want to believe it. He could feel it. They were fighting him, and as much as he expected it, he couldn't help but feel hurt. They were a team, but they couldn't even trust him. He was giving them all the reasons to believe this idea--every good intention too. Nothing was even selfish or about him.

 

"We all know that this isn't right. You know that…I know you do. You can't take away freedom--no matter how good or bad they are. We'll deal with them another way; not with blends. No matter how good your future sounds, it won't work. Not for you--I've seen the headaches you've been getting ever since people started to get vaccinated. It's hurting you, Murphy."

 

Warren's tone was gentle surprisingly for a situation like this. After listening to him, her voice sounded almost as if she cared, and his explaining showed her otherwise to what his action might have been. Despite the concern and gentleness (which were there) he knew that she was still fearful and angry at him.

 

"I told you it'll go away." Hopefully it will go away. It was a weak attempt, and his group knew it. "That's not the point. I know this may sound shocking to you, but this isn't about me." Not anymore at least.

 

" I may not be the one in your head, but I know you know this won't work. Whether it's about you or not."

 

She didn't know what she was talking about. It would work. He knew it would!

 

"And how so?" What would be in his way now? His headaches? Definitely not. He'd take care of that.

 

Warren tilted her head, him allowing the action seeing as how it wouldn't bring any harm. "Just like Spokane. We'll stop you-"

 

"Here's the thing." He cut her off, standing from his chair as he moved to stand in front of them. "You won't. Like I said, I won't let you. I can't let you."

 

"Then someone else will." Addy's voice was stone cold.

 

"Not likely. My worry was all you guys," He pointed to each of the members. "Not anyone else. They won't, but I knew you would."

 

No one else could stop him.

 

"I'm glad you think so highly of us, man, but she's right. We're not the only ones." He picked up in Doc's voice that it wasn't just that he believed that others would stop him. He believed that the group could stop him as well.

 

"Who else? George? Cooper? Red? In case you've forgotten, they're my blends too. " He sighed and before the others went to speak, he continued. " No one will stop me. None of you or anyone else. This is my chance to do good--just like you've tried to push me to be. The Savior of Humanity."

 

He moved around, standing closer to Warren. " And now I am, and you want to stop me."

 

"We are going to stop you. A world under one person's control-- with their actions, thoughts-- that's not what we were trying to accomplish. You won't be able to carry this out."

 

She still tried to argue with him. Back when they thought the world was at the pinacol of being a shitty (when the team was just really forming) she was the boss of him. Always was, but now--the roles were swapped.

 

"I will. Deep down I know you know that." He turned on his heel, facing the exit of the bar for a moment.

 

He and the group had a mission now. Get the vaccine distributed at the locations they were assigned. It was starting to play out in his favor--even though the group was not happy about it at all.

 

"We have a mission." He commanded all of them to stand, walking beside him as he started to the exit. "Let's give the world the hope they've been waiting for."

Notes:

Great job, Murphy. Now you got headaches from the overabundance of Blends, and your group knows. Hopefully Murphy knows what to do...and the group too!

By the way, my mom wanted me to take this part out, so I'll add it here for more information. Murphy was thinking back to how Darren had been affected when taking the Blend vaccine--making the man mindless- the exact opposite of enhancing his attributes. However, Darren's main attribute affected could have been willingness into submission and easily influenced. Janice hadn't taken the blend vaccine yet, so he hadn't been sure with her.
Coming Soon:
Chapter Four: The End
;)

Chapter 4: The End

Summary:

Overview: Two years of the vaccine being given out has passed, but a rebellion starts to try to free blends from the control of their master. Despite their efforts, the original members of Operation Bitemark end up in a major disaster that changes the future (and possibly the past).

Notes:

Heyo! I was writing and editing Chapter 3 in 2021, and my mom (who helps me with editing) hadn't been able to read it until 2022. (Not that I can complain since she has to work!) So, the date is all messed up with posting. This one is to fix the date, and because I think I'm losing some of your guy's interest. Hopefully this does justice!

Have a great day!

Coming soon:
From the Top: Take Two

The incandescent light shone brightly in Murphy's eyes, causing him to roll over to hide his head under a pile of (two or three) freshly cleaned pillows. He groaned when it did no justice, pushing himself up as his bleary sun-sensitive eyes gazed around the illuminated bedroom he occupied.

 

It wasn't much; dark oak wooden floors contrasting from the slightly darker than cream paint on the walls. A couple of fixed holes and rotting floorboards were being replaced fully, but other than that, the room was in almost perfect condition.

 

There was a dresser against the wall farthest from the door, a closet close to that, and his bed sat in the middle of the room. It was a king-sized bed, a couple of slightly ripped blankets strewn across it, and the found clean pillows resting at the top; caved in and messed up from his tossing and turning throughout the night.

 

He yawned, stretching as he pulled his brown robe (gold tassels hanging from the end) closer against his body and headed for his own personal closet. With scrounged clothes across the towns that he and the blends had found over the years while rebuilding the world, he had more than enough to hold him over for each day for a month without having to wash any.

 

Enough for his fashion statements in the rebuilding world of the apocalypse.

 

Once finding a blueish black button up shirt, a black leather jacket, suited with skinny jeans, dress shoes, and finally topped off with a plain red tie; he headed to the large open window that spanned across the wall his bed sat at.

 

The light was still bright on his eyes, but his sleepiness had quelled from having one of the best night's sleep he ever had in years. The blends weren't as active as they had been, there was no thoughts of murder or wrongdoing, and no attacks against him or his rebuilding towns had occurred--which left him surprisingly with a good night's sleep. An actual peaceful slumber.

 

Regardless, he looked on to the blends walking along in the streets; some working their assigned jobs, others spending the day relaxing with their children who were playing games with each other outside their homes. It was a peaceful environment, and one many people had come to agree and live with over the two years.

 

Despite their free will taken away (to an extent, that is) they embraced the peaceful life he had created for them through the blend vaccine.

 

They didn't have to worry about zombies anymore. They didn't have to worry about survival or starvation. They didn't fear if their children would die soon, or if someone they trusted would turn on them for food or become a zombie or deranged Talker the next day. There was no fear of kidnappers nor stealing from one another. No worrying if your neighbor next door was a serial killer coming to kill you and your family.

 

They were happy. The blends, the world he was building up, lived in peace and content; without fear or any worries.

 

He was a god to them. One they looked for, for safety and protection. One they relied upon to provide them with a world worth living in. This was the hope that they were trying to provide, and after nearly twelve years, it was finally here.

 

He sighed, a proud smirk lining his face as he brushed back his bed-head hair into something neater. Once fitting, he headed out of his room and down the hall of the large building.

 

They weren't in Altura anymore, nor were they in Pacifica or any other outpost. This was his own.

 

Toivo.

 

While he and the group had been on their year lengths job at the temporary vaccination outposts, the blends that he was controlling had taken to searching the surrounding areas of Altura. Some had wandered to the creek that he had cleaned up in after eating Sun Mei's brain and had traveled north from there. The creek, after an estimated travel of thirty miles, fed into a lake which also provided an abandoned town near it.

 

After some cleaning and advancements to the town, Toivo had become the newest residing place of the blends. The starting outpost of the new world.

 

With proper cleaning, the land was found to be good for farming, and with the lithium that was being used in Altura (no need to make Bizkuits for the Talker's since they were cured), they transferred it to Toivo. It was more-so a backup at this point however, because similar to Murphy Town, they ran their electricity off of the rushing river water.

 

With working power, homes had been lit up and radio and video communications were starting to become more frequent like Altura had. Most things had been transferred over, and the peace he was accomplishing had been coming near complete from there.

 

By the time he returned, already informed of the plan from his blends via mental link, the outpost was bustling and alive with families and workers both under his control and not. Buildings were being replenished; homes created; small shops set up like lemonade stands upgraded to stores that bartered. Even schools were becoming popular throughout Toivo, as parents sent their children to learn safely, without the fear of zombies coming to eat them.

 

They even managed to set up days of the week like Zona did. He wasn't sure how accurate it was--the days and months far lost from what he cared for as the apocalypse carried on-- but it was as accurate as it was going to get.

 

So today, May 18th--a possible Saturday, he allowed some parents to be home with their children to enjoy their off day together.

 

It also meant that today was beef stew day (since with being cured, the main worry of infected meat wasn't focused on anymore), which was being given out right in the building he and the group slept in.

 

The group sleeping close was something he made sure happened, given he knew they would try to break free at any moment. The blend vaccine enhanced their determination and willingness, which kept them slightly farther out of his control then any of the other blends. They hadn't acted up as much, more-so they focused on keeping silent on their thoughts or talking quietly with one another throughout the times he was sleeping.

 

Which he figured; they had done quite recently.

 

As he rounded the corner, opening the door into the dinning/kitchen room (far bigger than it should be) he was met with a waft of the stew, causing him to be hungrier than he had been originally. Cici Hendreson, a blend who had been an excellent cook Pre-Z, was preparing a meal at the double stove top run off of the pine wood outside.

 

He greeted her, albeit slightly groggily, as he trudged over to where some form of drink had been made for him. Four others sat next to it, untouched and steaming slightly less than his was.

 

The group decided they weren't thirsty then…

 

He sighed, picking up a homemade wooden tray and setting the five cups on it. Carefully, he made his way over to the large dining table where Roberta, Addy, Doc, and 10K all sat. They made no movement nor gave any recognition to him as they stared blankly at the center of the table.

 

And this was one of the reasons he knew the group had been congregating in private. 10K had acted mindlessly like this back in Spokane too, and he was sure the sniper had brought up the matter with the group. So, with both their willingness to go against him and not let him read their thoughts or control them, and their defiance to act normally in front of him; he was left with shells of who his group use to be.

 

He sighed again (more frustrated this time), leaning across the table to set the cups in front of them, before returning to his own and taking a sip. The taste of herb tea washed over his taste buds as he relished in the flavor, before redirecting his attention back towards his group. They still made no advancement or movement of any sorts, and with that, it made him even more frustrated.

 

Why couldn't they just give in and enjoy the peace he was providing? Why couldn't they see he was offering them a happy ending?

 

"I see you've been talking to Thomas recently." Murphy brought the glass back down to the table, hoping to see some reaction. From 10K or any of the group. None was given. Not even the sniper when he had called his name aloud.

 

He didn't do it often, and he barely referred to 10K as such. When he did though, he used it as a sign of showing his power. That Thomas was a blend of Murphy's. It had been used so slightly in Spokane, and even though he didn't use it to show his control over 10K as much, he still used it enough to show what he was. What they all were, and how they had to get used to it.

 

But even now it didn't warrant a reaction as they kept ignoring him and the drinks.

 

"C'mon guys. Two years and now you're starting this?" He got up from the table, standing beside Warren. She made no movement, and he couldn't deny how much he hated it. How much it made him sad to see his group do this.

 

Look at me.

 

He saw her start, but with her head shaking ever so slightly, she kept staring in front of her.

 

"Look." He said aloud this time, using more force. She started to--ever so slowly--so he helped her along as he used his hand to turn her head towards him. "Don't be like this…"

 

The blank stare she gave him in return was enough of an answer to him.

 

Murphy rolled his eyes, walking away for a moment with his hands on his hips. With an irritated laugh he paced around the room--ignoring Warren as she turned her head back towards the table, and Cici who continued on with her cooking; him controlling her to do so and remain inattentive in the conversation.

 

He didn't know why the group wouldn't just conform. Why they couldn't see the good in what he was doing. They hadn't seen it from the day they found out, and after two years, they still didn't change their minds.

 

Why was it that they saw this as something bad? What was bad about it? Couldn't they see the joy and peace everyone was living in? Couldn't they see the safety it provided?

 

Murphy couldn't see how any of it was wrong. How could you when there was nothing? Not a single thing. It wasn't like he was torturing his blends. He wasn't reading their minds for personal information. He didn't make them kneel to him…they did that on their own.

 

He gave them jobs. He gave them lives and a reason to live. They had a purpose to carry on. Did the group not see how many deaths he was preventing? They didn't know how many blends thought about suicide, and they didn't know that he stopped all of them from doing so.

 

This wasn't bad. The blend vaccine was the saving grace of the world, and most people had come to realize that.

 

"Mr. Murphy." A deep, gravelly voice sounded behind him--drawing him out of his thoughts as he turned around to see Felix Emerson (his top head of warfare) standing formally in the kitchen doorway. "We may have another attempt of thieves back at Altura, sir." Felix continued when he saw he had Murphy's attention.

 

And while most agreed, the small percentage of others throughout the world did not. Instead, he was left with a rebellion--an uprising of people who wanted to bring him and his blends down. Who wanted to tear down the perfect world he was building up.

 

The Risen.

 

An ironic name for a rebellion in the time of the apocalypse. While Murphy was sure the name was supposed to symbolize those people rising against his control in this rebellion; he looked to it as more of them calling themselves the dead. Like they were similar to zombies--and if that were the case, they were meant to be stopped.

 

The zombies were the first thing the world looked to take down--the cure in Murphy's blood which brought along the miracle of the blend vaccine. Now it was the Risen, a group of regulars who were looking to tear down the peaceful world and change it to something Murphy knew was going to be considerably worse.

 

So, with both--zombies and Risen--in the end they would be stopped, and both ways would be by him and his blend race.

 

"Not surprising…figured they'd try to loop back around when they thought we were distracted at Pacifica." The attacks had been becoming more harsh and more recent--larger numbers and greater distractions to lure him away from their main points. Even with him sending more of his army out there, it would end in a bloodbath on either sides and leave him with very little information after.

 

But if he had the right people on his side…

 

He looked over to the group, all of them sitting in the same exact positions they were in before. "How many have you gathered are around there?" He turned his gaze back to Felix, the middle-aged man returning his gaze with full attention.

 

"Not as many as usual…by our count, twenty. Maybe less. We've been picking off the ones heading along the roads." A decent number then.

 

"Put Marable, Jaston, Renner and…Patel with sector five." Just as backup.

 

He turned to his group again, looking at them with patient eyes. "And I'm sure The Operation Bitemark wouldn't mind exercising their legs for a little while, hm? Quick mission run?"

 

He saw Addy and Roberta twitch in their spots, Doc gulping, and 10K's eyes flicker over to him before quickly adverting back to where he was looking prior. That got their attention.

 

"I think that's a good idea. Go on." He motioned for them to leave, commanding them at the same time, as they got up from their seats and followed Felix to get better equipped with weapons.

 

And he would just stay here then, keeping check on the blends in Toivo and monitor the group from afar as they went about on the quick mission to stop the Risen from whatever they were planning.

 

----line break-----

Blake McLanley's POV:

 

Darkness engulfed the hallways of the main building of Altura left unkept for years, much like everything else in the Zombie Apocalypse. For two years, nobody had stepped foot into the now abandoned outpost, the whole place cleared out right from the beginning to form Toivo.

 

From what she was informed, it was a blend outpost run by Mr. Murphy himself.  Blake couldn't help but shiver at the thought of being held in the same town--run under the control of the man and unable to do anything otherwise to stop it. She couldn't imagine having to live like that, and with the mission she had been assigned on, she was going to make sure that she stopped it.

 

She carefully weaved her way through the halls, dim flashlight raised to brighten the area she was walking in. Broken floors and overturned useless furniture littered the hallway with no windows as she made her way down it. Blake had to assume it was the bedroom corridor, some of the doors broken off the hinges or open to reveal sheet less beds or picked through rooms.

 

Beside her, Brett, a bulky man with long tightly coiled black hair offered to go on the mission with her, and she didn't mind. Brett was the only thing that kept her sane anymore and with traveling through Altura to retrieve some sort of item required by the Risen leaders, she wasn't sure she would feel comfortable doing it with anybody else.

 

She learned the hard way that people were untrustworthy.

 

She shone her flashlight on him, his dark complexion shining back towards her as she watched him shine his light throughout the rooms checking for any Talkers, zombies, blends, or even survivors. Nothing moved or gave any sign that there was any of them there, so she brought her flashlight back in front of her as she pushed open another door.

 

Revolver raised, she scanned the room that her and Brett entered as they looked around. It wasn't the one that they were hoping to find though, so as they exited through another door, Blake decided to end the silence that had consumed them the moment they stepped foot on the perimeter of Altura.

 

"Ex-wife, mother of a dead child, survivor of the zombie apocalypse, and now team member of a rebellion against the supposed savior of humanity. And here I was, Pre-Z, thinking I'd become an accountant." She let out a breathy laugh, filled with no amusement, as she shook her head and scanned through the windows of another room.

 

"Is 'quietly' anywhere in your vocabulary?" He teased back in a hushed whisper, looking at a number that marked the room. Finding it to be correct, he opened the door and headed inside--Blake following behind.

 

"Use to be." It had been…she had always liked the quiet, but when she had a daughter, it was only a rare relief. Now though, the zombie apocalypse taking that away from her, and she had taken up to filling in the silence that was once occupied by her daughter's young, cheerful voice.

 

She scanned around the room with her flashlight; finding beakers, lockers, well-worn lab jackets, a medical chair sitting beside a table, and much more. The room was a mess; clearly picked through and cleaned out of with anything useful. It was a surprise to her that there was something here the Risen leaders needed.

 

Brett turned to her, stopping in the center of the room as he looked into her eyes, curling a piece of her ginger hair between his fingers. "And what happened to the part about being ' the girlfriend to your ever-loving boyfriend', hm?"  He moved in closer, but she pushed him away with a smirk.

 

"Didn't seem to fit the dreary mood."

 

"And an accountant does?" He asked, coming up beside her to help look through left boxes and containers.

 

"A dream left unfulfilled." Blake responded wistfully, keeping a playful tone in it as she shone her flashlight on some papers she found hidden at the bottom of the box.

 

"Or a job left unwanted." He bumped shoulders with her, causing her to drop her flashlight on the ground and lose her grip on the papers.

 

"Hey!" She wasn't sure if she gave the indignant cry to losing her bearings on her stuff, or because he had just insulted her dream job, but either way it applied.

 

He laughed, trying to keep his voice quiet as he helped pick up her stuff. "Oh you know it's true."

 

Their faces were inches apart as she now looked into his bright blue eyes. "Maybe…not like it could happen now." She looked back down to the papers, her comment causing the mood to shift into something more sad and vengeful. It broke the conversation up, Brett moving to the other side of the room to look for whatever it was that they were looking for.

 

"What is it by the way? Did the leaders tell you anything about what we have to look for?" It seemed quite unrealistic to send someone on a mission to retrieve something that they weren't even sure what they had to get-- but here she and Brett were.

 

"They don't tell me jackshit. All I know is that this is a 'retrieve and meet' set up in Altura for one of the last things needed to end this reign of control." Brett replied, looking down at some notes he found and shoving them into his bag. Besides knowing that they had to meet with some members of the Risen here, the only other thing that they were informed of to retrieve was notes.

 

Of what? She had no clue. Blake wanted to assume that it was a cure to the blends, thus it would mean that this would go to their scientists to free the blends from Mr. Murphy once and for all.

 

"Just front-line soldiers who follow a mission." He added, heading over to her again. "They tell you anything important?" Brett offered her a hand, Blake gladly taking it as she got up off the floor, stuffing a few papers she found into her bag as well.

 

"Just doing what I'm told. In and out operation for something needed." It wasn't exact word by word, but it was close enough.

 

He nodded, both of them heading over to the door after picking through all the papers that the room had in it. "Do you think what they need was actually in here? This was Sun Mei's old lab…what makes you think Mr. Murphy wouldn't have just taken it already?"

 

"I don't." She didn't have a clue, but she had hope that it was. "If the Risen leaders think it's still here, I'm going to take their word for it. Especially if it will bring all of this to an end." What was a world without hope?

 

Brett looked past her, sighing as he thought it over. Hope had never been on anyone's side. It turned out to be false or dangerous--removing them from living in tranquility and freedom. Something that--if they finally had true hope-- would be accomplished after this mission.

 

He nodded after a moment, coming to terms with whatever mental conversation he was having, before motioning towards the door for them both to leave. "Might-as-well get a move on. I'd rather not see what happens if we make 'em angry by waiting around."

 

"No kidding…" Last time she made a commander assigned by the leaders angry, she was in for a full lecture and a proper downgrade in jobs.

 

Swiftly, they headed down the halls, taking back doors to get to the main meeting area where everyone else was waiting. There was supposed to be around thirty soldiers of the Risen that should show up, but by the time they made it to the room, there was less than twenty huddle together.

 

The commander of the mission stood in the middle (Sargent Markson), while others who were injured laid off to the side against a wall; those people being cared for by a few uninjured. The rest of the well-off soldiers stood around the room--near one another and out of view from any window that could give away their possible hiding location.

 

Three other soldiers stood off from the group however, scanning the room with uneasy eyes and troubled expressions. The trio were previous occupants of Altura before the blend vaccine was known to be given. They were actually the ones to be in the bar when Mr. Murphy revealed his control over people. It had scared the living daylights out of them, as they had recounted to all those a part of the Risen. They had said that Mr. Murphy made all the people in the bar--besides his friends--leave without a say. They said he commanded three others who had come up to his table with the same--if not stronger--force of control.

 

They were frightened (as they should be) and the fear of what happened that day spread to the others in the rebellion. Blake had heard more than enough stories of what went down and of how everything played out. She hated each one--causing her anger to spike higher for the dictator of a man controlling people through their own minds.

 

It was awful. Everything she heard and people experienced, but she'd make sure that today they stopped it.

 

Her and Brett walked past the trio, Brett stopping beside a Talker who had been too afraid to take the cure. The Talker had said that she was afraid of dying-- her intestines ripped out and her face burned to a crisp. She was afraid that taking the vaccine would-- when she became human-- kill her. She was supposed to be dead, but she couldn't face it. She didn't want to.

 

So now those who had a similar idea also joined in on the rebellion. Those who disagreed and those who were afraid. Although, each day the Risen told their occupants to not be that. That the people who turned to Mr. Murphy to make them blends were the ones that were afraid. They were the ones that took the easy way out--now having to live in fear of what Mr. Murphy had planned for them.

 

Blend or not, nobody was ever safe or in peace. There was a hard way to get a semblance of that, and there was an easy way. The blends had chosen an easy way out, but one day they would realize that easy never meant better.

 

Once Brett handed the Talker a piece of brain he had found from a man who had wreaked his car-- killing him fully on impact--the duo headed over to Markson, who had just finished up his conversation with his commander-in-chief.

 

"McLanley! Edmonson! Over here." Markson seemed stressed beyond belief, addressing them less harsh and more worried. "Did you find it?" He asked when they came in front of him.

 

"Depends on what 'it' is." Brett handed him the bookbag of papers that he and she had stuffed together.

 

"We picked up all the papers we could find in the room…" She watched as he looked through them, a frustrated look on his face as he forcefully pushed them to a solider standing behind him. "Are they not what you were hoping for, sir?"

 

"No--they might be. We'll have to pick through them once we're in the clear." He paced the small space between them for a moment as he spoke. " Mr. Murphy has our location. Won't be long before his army comes to ours."

 

"So, let's leave now." Brett, as if it were the most obvious answer, replied.

 

Blake elbowed him, knowing it wasn't good to piss off a commander who was already stressed.

 

An irritated look was thrown his way before Markson replied. "Can't. He has us pinned on the roads, and heading out back will reveal our location the second they pull up. Which--like I said with the roads--won't be long. We head out to the trucks now--suicide mission. If we head out back to where the trucks could pull up unnoticed--we're the ones out of cover. It'll be a bloodbath either way."

 

So they really were pinned. Shit.

 

"So out back would be the best option then." Brett and Markson looked her way--eyes trained on her with incredulous expressions, so she explained further. "It's the only one where some of us have a chance of living. Staying in here until they leave leaves us at a higher disadvantage, and the roads are a no-go. At least with heading out the back way some of us will make it out of here alive."

 

"Which is very low, Blake." Brett reminded, giving her the side eye. She knew he didn't like her opinion in the chance of death for a majority, but at the end of this, you have to lose some to win some.

 

"But our only good option, Brett." She fired back, Markson breaking it up.

 

"McLanley's right. Problem is; who do we think will make it out compared to the rest? Mind you-- we still have important items that need to get back to the Risen."

 

Another problem. The papers would have to go with someone, but with the chance of death of most of them here, it couldn't be said who the papers could go with. Unless they wanted to pass it around; dead person to alive--but how good of an idea is that? It would get intercepted and those going after it will get killed.

 

"I can take it first." She offered after a few minutes. "Mr. Murphy doesn't know what we got-" We don't even know what we have. "So, I'll try to keep it away as long as possible. We can have a few people around me in case I get killed and pass it on before they catch wind of what we're doing."

 

She could see the objection on Brett's face, but Markson's expression made clear that that plan was going to happen. "Good idea. Three as back-up. Not too many to draw attention."

 

"I'll go with her."  Brett offered quickly, glancing over at her with a worried expression. They knew what they signed up for, but every time one of them was thrown into a situation of possible death, the other couldn't help but fear.

 

"No, you won't." Markson shot down, but Brett pushed on.

 

"Sargent-" He was stopped half-way through by Markson.

 

"You'll head out to the trucks and pull them behind the wood-line. Be ready for McLanley and her team then drive to the safe-house from there." Markson commanded otherwise leaving Brett without an option to argue. Reluctantly, Brett nodded his head in agreeance.

 

"Good." Markson carried on, looking to her now. "Five minutes. Get your team and bearings; then we head out. I can't give you more time than that." His voice, as always, was still cold, but in a sense--Blake could pick up a tiny amount of gentleness from it.

 

She knew why…given the man had lost most his teams to Mr. Murphy's militia. Including his first team that consisted of his daughter and son. One of which was shot and killed on site, while the other was taken to become a blend of the man himself.

 

"Yes sir."

 

 Blake was quick to pick her team-- really, she only had three to pick so it wasn't that hard-- and at the five-minute mark, she was already by the door with the backpack in hand and her team behind. Brett stood beside her for the time being, holding her hand as they stared ahead through the window.

 

"Be careful out there."  It was whispered so quietly into her ear, drawing her out of her thoughts.

 

"You too." He still had to put himself in danger. No one was safe.

 

He smirked in reply, going to give her a kiss on the cheek before being called by the team of drivers. Reluctantly, he moved away, both him and Blake giving one another a final reassurance.

 

And then she was alone. With the three others of course, but without the only person she felt comfortable with through the apocalypse.

 

"Alright." She turned to her group--two women and a man-- all looking as nervous as she felt. "We head out quick. Don't fire unless provoked. We do not need more attention on us then there will be."

 

They nodded in agreeance, turning back to the door. Blake did the same, taking one last breath before pushing it open.

 

They were meant with calamity already stricken. Guns were already going off, people yelling commands, and trucks of the opposite side were blocking most exit points out in the front. She could see some blends taking cover behind buildings, others kneeling against toppled over debris.

 

Brett and his group were running along the outskirts of the gunfire, seeking refuge when shots were fired too close and staying well-hidden most of the time. Her group, however, were not so lucky. They managed to make it past the first line of Mr. Murphy's army, before getting pinned near where the names of those who had died resided.

 

Blake and her three team members hide. The blends were closing in on them, and as much as she hoped that she would get out without having to fire her weapon, she knew it wasn't going to happen.

 

Giving a signal to her team to open fire when they saw the blends, she propped herself up getting aim on one of the first who peeked around the corner.  Blake wasn't the best shot--she knew that-- so when the bullet scraped past the building instead of hitting her target, she was more disappointed than surprised.

 

From the same blend, she was met back just as quickly with a response as five shots were fired at her.

 

"Shit!" She cussed, ducking down back to her cover. One of her group members (the youngest women in her mid-twenties) wasn't as quick to respond to the shots, taking coverage just a little too slowly. The bullet hit her in the shoulder first, another fired off at the same time--this one passing through her throat.

 

"No, no, no!" The eldest woman of the group cried, rushing over to the injured woman.

 

"Hey! Wait, stay back." Blake called to the woman. They were still pinned, and they had to get out of here. "Fall back!" She shouted louder to the woman when she wouldn't listen.

 

Instead, the lady went on, trying to cover up the hole that was now bleeding proficiently out of the youngest's neck. Her hands were covered, and the younger woman kept thrashing and trying to beg for her life to be ended. For the pain to stop.

 

Blake would have. She would have ended the youngest's misery, but instead she had the blends to deal with.

 

 "Give her mercy!" The man of the group called, firing his pistol at a blend who had gotten too close to them--killing the blend by a shot through the heart.

 

The eldest didn't listen though, tearing a piece of her shirt to wrapped it around the youngest's neck in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding. Despite it not helping, the younger woman fell limp in the eldest's arms before reanimating almost immediately after.

 

Dammit. They didn't have any Bizkuits (their supply as good as gone at this point), so they had nothing to stop the youngest's quenching for brains.

 

As if to prove her point, the youngest went after the eldest woman--rabid in her movement with wild eyes. With quick movements (removing herself from her battle with the nearest two blends on them) Blake turned around and shot the youngest in the head--killing her fully.

 

The eldest woman cried, hugging the younger one close to her chest and remaining useless in taking out the two blends. Turning back to her fight, she was able to kill a blend with a shot through the lung; the man taking care of the other blend.

 

Wasting no time, Blake moved over to the woman, grabbing her by the shoulders to get her to move. "We have to go." Despite trying to keep her voice gentle to the woman for whatever loss this was to her, she made sure to demand their next plan of action.

 

"No! I won't leave her here! I can't." Through racketing sobs, the woman yelled at her, remaining in position.

 

She understood loss--she really did. She wasn't about to condemn this lady for it either, but she couldn't stay here and become a loss to Brett. She wouldn't die here. She had a mission and reason to carry through with it. No one--loss or not--was going to hold her back from getting out of here alive.

 

Giving a harsh sigh, she looked around the area for a quick second, scanning over all the places were names of those that had died use to reside. Mr. Murphy had taken most of them to Toivo-- creating almost like a shrine for certain names. Sgt. Lilly Madison Mueller and Sun Mei; those were the definite two that she remembered hearing off displayed through Toivo. She knew one name as the scientist; the other she would care to do more research for, but there really hadn't been time for it.

 

Looking back towards the woman, she grabbed her shoulders more forcefully, turning the wailing woman towards her. "She knew the risks. Going out here there is a small chance of survival. The longer we stay out here--the more likely we'll end up like her-"

 

"She had a name." The woman cut in; an angry expression demonstrated on her face.

 

"I'm sure she did, and she'll always be remembered by helping to save the world. We, on the other hand, have to get out of here to tell the world who she was and what she's done." The woman looked back down towards the dead girl--the blood from the bullet trickling down her forehead while her lifeless eyes stared off into space. "Do you hear me?" She tried harder to get through to the woman.

 

With a sniffle, the woman pushed herself off the ground harshly, not daring to look either Blake or the man in the eyes as they stealthily made their way across the buildings.

 

"There it is." The man pointed out, a fallen down barbwire fence that revealed the tree line. A path, barely noticeable, carved its way through the brush and trees to the place where the trucks were located.

 

"Let's go." Blake motioned; tightening the strap of the backpack against her shoulder and raising her revolver in the case of any danger.

 

A few obstacles sat in their path, but they offered good protection in the case that they were shot at again. Trying to stay near the possible shelters, they were stopped less than halfway through by a piercing scream and a gunshot.

 

Turning on a whim, Blake was able to see just in time as the woman was shot straight through the back--penetrating her spinal cord. She fell to the ground--giving a deafening scream as she did so-- and as much as Blake wanted to grab her to bring her to cover, she was prohibited as more shots were fired at them.

 

Blake and the man ducked behind a concreate wall as the bullets were fired and lodge into the concreate. The man went up first, taking a shot, and by how he reacted, missing it completely.

 

Blake went next--more cautious since she was the one carrying the bookbag and they only had him and her left on the team mission. She went up, scanning the perimeter before catching the blends that were firing at them. Her heart stopped for a moment, pulling back on her fire as she ducked back down for cover.

 

Operation Bitemark was here. Mr. Murphy never sent them out on a mission.

 

She had never met the group before--only heard stories of what they had done--and she knew full well that they were victims of the blend vaccine as well. She knew that they didn't want it, and she knew out of all the blends they were put under Mr. Murphy's control the most.

 

That made them even more dangerous than they already are.

 

The man went up to take a shot again, but Blake pulled him down. Just in time too, as the next bullet barely grazed his cheek before he was back under cover.

 

Sniper.

 

"How many are there?" She asked, nonetheless frightened. She didn't want to go against that group. She had no doubt she wouldn't be able to kill them, but she knew they full well could kill her in an instant.

 

"Uh-" His hand was still covering his face, the slightest of a scratch against his lip but still deep enough to hurt and drip blood. " Seven--eight. I couldn't get a full count."

 

They had too many on them. They wouldn't make it out of here with just the two of them firing back at the four blends and most of the Operation Bitemark team.

 

"Make a run for it to the gate. I'll have the backpack on loose. If I die, grab it and get to the gate as fast as you can." They both weren't going to make it out alive. Unless it was luck that came to the rescue, they would never get a fairytale ending of everyone living after this point.

 

He nodded, understanding the implications as well as they both got ready to bolt to the trucks. With a shaky breath, she took off, the man behind her as they zig-zagged against the gunshots.

 

She could hear people running after them, and the fire of the guns going off towards them, but she didn't look back. She and the man got as close to the gate as they could-- farther than she expected them to get--before a bullet ripped through the air and penetrated through the man's skull. He had been right on her heel, so the instant death caused him to collapse on top of her, pushing them both to the ground.

 

The blood from his forehead soaked into her hair as she tried to push him off of her.

 

She couldn't die like this. Not now! Not when they were so close.

 

Restlessly, she tried to get him off, able to do so but revealing her to the next complicated matter.

 

She was surrounded.

 

Roberta Warren's gun was aimed at her head, the other three of her group near behind her with the other four blends surrounding them from the back and sides. All the weapons were trained on Blake.

 

She froze, hands desperately reaching for her revolver, but Lieutenant Warren's aim came as more of a warning as she raised it farther towards her in a way to tell her not to move.

 

"Grab her. We'll bring her back to Mr. Murphy as another blend." One of the older blends (tall and brawny) commanded. He must have noticed as Blake's breath hitched and her face became far past worried and afraid. "Oh, don't worry sweetheart. Better we didn't leave you off for dead." His voice turned sickly sweet as he looked towards her.

 

Blake watched as Lieutenant Warren's face twitched with anger--the same as Addison Carver's, Thomas' and Steven Beck's-- their attitudes contrasting from the actions that they were displaying.

 

Victims of war.

 

They weren't fully set on the idea--they didn't believe in what Mr. Murphy was doing, and from that she saw her advantage.

 

"Please--don't. Please stop!" Blake cried as Addison Carver and Steven Beck picked her up by either arm, restraining her from breaking free and bolting.

 

It changed in that split second as Lieutenant Warren aimed her gun from Blake's head to one of the other blend's head. She pulled the trigger, the bullet killing the blend. The others of her group followed along with her, trying to take down the other three blends who sensed an uprising in the original Operation Bitemark gang.

 

"Go! Run!" Lieutenant Warren called, her ability of control with her own actions becoming less as she forced on against Mr. Murphy's command.

 

Blake did as she was told, ducking and hiding as she ran to the exit point--all the while getting shot at by the other blends and the Operation Bitemark team--Mr. Murphy's control back on them.

 

Barely missing a bullet that was about to penetrate her thigh, she was able to dive out of the way and into the woods--the gunfire still going after her as she ran, but she didn't stop.

 

She pushed on until she made it to the clearing--the trucks and what was left of the few Risen members. Brett pushed through them, moving away from his truck as he gathered Blake in his arms when she got close enough to be seen.

 

She hugged him back tightly as they didn't say anything to each other. Finally, she pulled away, Brett checking her over with a worried expression. "The others--?" He didn't have to finish his question before she shook her head gravely to inform him that they didn't make it.

 

He nodded in understanding, pulling her to the truck as Markson commanded all of them to move out before they got caught.

 

She climbed in the truck, neither saying anything for most of the drive before Brett decided he'd be the one to break the silence this time.

 

"Did he take them?"

 

"What?" She didn't understand what he was implying at first, gaze shooting over to him, but he kept his focus on the road as he kept asking questions.

 

"Did Mr. Murphy take Ava, Marcy, and Nix?" He asked again.

 

Her team members. That was their names.

 

"No…" She went quiet for a moment, leaving a dreary silence between them. "They were killed before that could happen."

 

Brett mumbled something under his breath leaving it to be incoherent to her. All she knew was that he sounded mad.

 

"What?" She asked again.

 

"Nothing--just…" He let out a huff, gaze drifting between her and the road. "We should've given them all mercy. All those blends…they don't deserve to live a life of war against their will." He cleared, barring his teeth with another irritated sigh.

 

She, however, looked at him in shock. Had he just said that they should have killed all the blends there? That death was better for them? She knew right well it wasn't right to leave them under the control of one man--but death? That wasn't what they were working for…none of this mission to the endgame never entitled that they kill to free.

 

"No--no we shouldn't have." Her voice became angry, this time shocking Brett as he looked over to her. "Is that what you think? We should kill them all?"

 

"Not kill--mercy. That's what we did to the zombies, Blake. We never called it 'killing' because we weren't killing actual people. We were mercying victims to a virus that were coming to kill us. Now we're mercying  victims to a man that are trying to kill us. Tell me the difference?" He argued, voice less harsh than hers.

 

"Because they still are people! We're getting a cure for them--we're going to free them from control a different way-"

 

"And that's what we were trying to do with the zombies too! All the while--while a cure was being made, we were giving mercy to zombies. That's what we're doing here too. What's one--two-- hell, even twenty more gonna do? It keeps them from killing us."

 

Despite his argument, she couldn't agree. She wouldn't. Operation Bitemark defied control against Mr. Murphy. No zombie had ever done that for her. They were still people, and even with his reasoning, she wouldn't be persuaded that killing them was the right thing to do.

 

"So--okay, so tell me this. Your brother is a blend. What happens when we come across him one day? What happens when you’re the one firing back at him and he's firing at you? Are you going to kill him, or are you going to freeze up once you see him again?"

 

Brett froze, foot slamming on the brake as the truck jerked them forward and he turned to her. "Dammit, Brett! You're lucky we're the last truck."

 

Good thing she wore a seatbelt.

 

"I told him not to take it…I told Tyshawn to wait." She could hear the anger and sadness in his voice, as she watched as tears welled up in his eyes. That struck a nerve.

 

"But he thought it was better." Brett continued, looking back to the road and driving to catch up with the other trucks. "He said that it was the peace we were finally waiting for. Now- now he's fighting on the front lines, and I have no idea if he's still alive." Brett forced out.

 

"And you'd mercy him?" She prodded. They got this far, and if Brett truly believed killing blends was for the better, she'd be sure with his answer to him being put in that position.

 

"I would…he'd want that."

 

"Would he?" She was gentler with how she spoke this time to him.

 

Brett faltered, leaving her question up in the air as he asked one of his own. "And you wouldn't?"

 

"No." She was clear to her answer. Blake didn't have many people, only a few and most of them were blends now. Madalyn and Brett were her too closest, but she had lost contact with Madalyn the day Mr. Murphy had revealed his plans at the bar. " Because once we find a way to fix this, we won't have to kill--mercy--whatever you want to call it. I wouldn't kill them just because I think it'll set them free. I hate doing it now, but out there it's life or death; not freedom and justice."

 

Brett let out a sigh, keeping his gaze on the road and away from her. "Always one to have hope." He mumbled loud enough for her to hear.

 

"I can't live in a world filled without it…you have nothing left to live for if you don't cling on to some type of hope."

 

"Not all hope is one to cling on to." False hope…the reason for their situation now.

 

"My hope is…"

 

 And they'd get it. They had the papers in the bookbag, and once given to the Risen leaders, they would free the blends from control without killing.

 

The Risen would be the ones to provide a world of peace.

 

-----line break-----

Murphy's POV:

 

They had done it. The group had decided to take back control at the worst time. Defy against him in the middle of a war! They killed his blends before he was able to get control over them, and they had let one of the regulars escape.

 

He was pissed.  He wasn't sure if it was because of the group, or because he hadn't seen it sooner.

 

They were back with him now--standing tall in front of him with their hands behind their backs. He could see the tiniest of proud smirks on their faces, and he could feel their emotions. They took this as a win.

 

They planned this. They wanted this to happen. All those times when they were talking in private- -they were waiting for this moment; when he would send them out and they could help the regulars. Help the Risen of all things!

 

"One mission! One goddamn mission, and the first--first thing you do is break free." Murphy stopped his pacing, standing back in front of Warren, but keeping the other three of them in his sight. `

 

They didn't speak; only looking proud as if they accomplished something good and worthwhile.

 

"Do you even know what you're doing? Do you have any idea how this could change everything we've built up?" The world of peace that's finally here.

 

For one of the first times, Warren turned her attention to him by herself--speaking only with her eyes as she took his gaze. She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing…from her viewpoint at least.

 

"Not that." He answered her unspoken response. She may think she knows what's right, but she didn't understand what was fully right in this situation. She sided with the Risen, but she didn't understand what that would entitle. She didn't know what those bastards are doing and have done. How sick minded they could be in some situations. She--they all blocked that--looking at whatever good they could find in the rebellion.

 

Warren didn't change her opinion though, clearly showing him what side she was truly on. He shook his head--a laugh far from amused and happy escaping him as he backed away from them.

 

He always knew they would be hard to control--to believe in his idea more-so. They were so against it, and they took every opportunity to show and prove to him that they weren't going to be his blends. That they would help take away the blends from the world of his making.

 

He let his head fall because as much as he was angry-- he wasn't going to do anything to the group. He promised himself that they would all get a happy ending, and sometimes the road was bumpy and rocky--never an easy smooth path to travel down. It was getting worse at the two-year mark, but things always have to get worse before they could get better.

 

He turned back to them--they hadn't moved, and he didn't expect otherwise. Just defiant shells of who they use to be.

 

Murphy was about to talk again, lecture them about what they had done, but he stopped once seeing Felix back in his doorway. Despite his military personality (the reason he had assigned the man to his job in tactical warfare) fell slightly with nervousness in both emotions and looks.

 

"We'll come back to this." Murphy pointed towards the group, moving slightly away from them but enough to make sure they weren't doing anything against him again.

 

"Yes?" He questioned Felix, keeping his voice low so the group didn't hear. He didn’t need them getting any more ideas of how to help the Risen.

 

"The Risen fired back…they took out our forces along the borderlines of Toivo, and they're forcing their way into town." Felix informed, glancing back down towards the hall, leaving Murphy shocked for the time being.

 

They relayed an attack against him--in his outpost?

 

"Those-" He stopped himself, trying to keep a straight-forward thinking to get the most logical and best outcome in this attack. " How many this time?"

 

Felix hesitated, and before Murphy could command him to spit out an answer, he spoke. "Far more than they have shown us before. We've had to move some of the soldiers on the west border to the south to keep them back."

 

"Making the west vulnerable." Murphy supplied, stroking his goatee as he thought it through.

 

The Risen clearly got something they needed back at Altura, if this was--and this was only a hypothesis-- their final attack. That is, if they were sending most of their troops to--take them down? To get something? He never understood what the end goal of the Risen was. He knew it had to do with taking him and his blends down--but the question of how was always left unanswered.

 

Death? Some type of vaccine to make the blends regulars instead? Two different outcomes, and he wouldn’t let either happen.

 

"What about North and East?" If Murphy could get some of the soldiers from the other directions to be a defense to the one vulnerable, it might work out for the better.

 

"They're attacking from the South. I wouldn't be surprised if they're luring us away from the other sides to get an easy entrance and escape route." Felix responded, and Murphy couldn't disagree. It was how the Risen played in wars…like every other time, and it was starting to get old. He knew better now.

 

"Any back-ups?" Sure, he had lost blends today, but there had to be some on stand-by.

 

Felix's gaze shifted behind Murphy to Warren, Doc, 10K, and Addy before quickly reverting back to him.

 

Not good.

 

"Not gonna happen." Not only had they just went against him to help the Risen, but out there it was sure to be a major bloodbath. They'd get killed the second they ended up in the madness.

 

"Sir, with all due respect. They are one of our greatest forces in battle-" Murphy had put Felix in this position because of the man's tactical attribute being enhanced, but at times when a good idea was presented, he would shoot it down for his own internal reasons.

 

"They'll bring us down. Trust me." They'd help the regulars the second they get the chance to.

 

"Sir-" Felix argued back, trying to convince him that he was denying a logical plan, but Murphy commanded him to shut it, and to follow the order of getting anyone else to fight.

 

"Anyone else but them. They'll stay here to guard me in case the attacks get too close." He said more forcefully this time, giving the man the 'final answer' look.

 

 With annoyance as his main emotion, Felix left with a "Yes sir." going to gather the other blends that could fight. With that, Murphy turned on his heel, leaving the door open behind him as he gathered the group.

 

"We're heading out. Toivo's been infiltrated. We're going to the saferoom on the third floor." He commanded them to move as they all gathered weapons that could be used in case they had to fight. He could feel the group's joy at the news, so he added, "Don't get any ideas. You’re with me."

 

The joy faltered some at their plans being prohibited, but he ignored it as he pushed them up the stairs to the saferoom. It wasn't massively large or safe in some senses, but it overlooked the town to the wood-line, and it was easy to see where the attacks were major.

 

It looked like most of the building, wooden floors and white walls. Large paned windows looked over the town almost like a watchtower, a concreate windowsill (big enough for someone to sit at) sat below it. A slightly torn sofa with patches sewn to cover up the holes was placed against the wall near the windowsill, and four armchairs sat near the middle of the room with an oak table in the middle.

 

He positioned Warren and Doc at the armchairs, the two of them keeping watch over the door, while Addy was placed at the sofa. She was sitting restlessly on it, moving more than he had seen her these past few days as she glanced between the windows, door, the group, Murphy, and then repeating the process all over again.

 

10K was placed at the windowsill--the sniper watching the field with worried eyes as he looked about.

 

Red.

 

He had put her--not on the front lines for her and the other's sake--but near the back of the battle. All in all, she was still in the fight, and it had the young adult worried as he looked all about for signs of failure or the death of her. It was a failed action though, since he wouldn't be able to tell what she was doing from so far up.

 

Murphy had given 10K an extra booster before he left for the years length trip, and it had brought back that control and feeling (as much as he could at least)  that he had prior on 10K before they choked him. However, as time passed, it started to dwindle back as the injection fought back against the blend vaccine. Over the two years, he had been giving the sniper the blend booster every month, and despite the determination to break free, it helped to bring the control back.

 

So, the feeling of worry was the prominent emotion that he felt 10K show, but the sniper tried to hide his thoughts--although Murphy knew what they centered around. At the moment, to cover up what he was truly thinking, 10K was mentally counting in Spanish. Whether it was to keep Murphy out of his head, or because 10K was pissed that he was only four kills away from reaching 10,000-- both seemed to apply.

 

 Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro. Cinco. Seis…

 

Murphy walked up to him, zeroing in on 10K's thoughts as he looked out the window, before looking back to the sniper. "You know, I told you I'd let you kill those last few zombies. You really don't have to do that."

 

10K refused to respond, if anything, counting louder in his mind.

 

Siete. Ocho. Nueve. Diez.

 

He put more control on 10K, faltering his thoughts and slowly making him turn towards him.

 

Once…Doce…trece…

 

The counting stopped as 10K turned towards him, trying to keep his expression emotionless, but the anger and worriedness he felt both showed through the act he was trying to hold up.

 

Once seeing 10K's attention turned towards him, Murphy spoke. "How long have you guys been planning to break free." 10K didn't respond, seeing that as a win enough for him, so Murphy put more control to try to force him to answer.

 

"How long?" He asked again.

 

As long as we've known that we were blends.

 

10K resigned from answering aloud, speaking only through his thoughts. To him--Murphy assumed it seemed like the safest way since Murphy was easily able to manipulate what 10K could and couldn’t say.

 

"Is that so?"  You never cease to give a smart answer, do you? He mentally answered back, waiting for the sniper to respond.

 

He saw 10K suck in a sharp breath--still disliking the fact of it all.

 

Always has been.

 

I don't see why you all can't accept that you're my blends. Why are you trying to break free now? Have you been speaking to the Risen?

 

"I am not your blend…" 10K spoke aloud this time, anger hinted clearly as he kept his voice low, forcing out the words.  He was just glad he was able to trigger 10K to talk out loud.

 

Making sure 10K was completely powerless to move on his own, Murphy picked up 10K's right arm which had a bionic hand attached to it. He had given it to 10K so that it would sharpen his shooting back to what it was like before Red cut off his hand, seeing as how trying to attach a cured zombie hand back didn't seem like the best plan of action.

 

The bionic hand was similar to The Man's, but since Toivo was less on resources than Zona, it wasn't as good. The hand, however, Murphy made sure to put a design of a bitemark on--almost as if it were a mark to show what he was.

 

He moved 10K's arm so that the bionic hand was in front of his face while also making sure 10K was unable to look away. "I see you still wear the gift I got you."

 

I'm forced to.

 

Despite going back to answering mentally, Murphy had the answer he wanted.  "Then that proves that you are." Forced…like a blend.

 

Once pointed out, 10K noticed it, clenching his jaw as he tried to look away. "See…was that so hard?" Murphy questioned, and although 10K's thoughts were rampant on the matter, it was only faint to Murphy as 10K hid it.

 

Murphy had only succeeded in pissing off 10K even more, virtually getting no answer in what their plan for the Risen was, but he figured that would happen. He knew with all of them it would happen in a similar fashion. At least he had managed to point out to 10K (once again) that the sniper and the group were now blends.

 

Leaving 10K to ponder over his thoughts at the window and keep an eye out, he headed over to Addy. There wasn't much to do at the moment other than keep watch of the attacks, monitor, and wait, so he figured he could try to pry at least some information off of the group. Again, not that he expected to get any, but he didn't know until he tried.

 

She finally seemed to find a place to be set on the couch, staring into space near Warren and Doc. When he came close, she still refused to acknowledge him besides raising an eyebrow. If he didn't know any better, he would assume that she was questioning all about life in her own little world, but as his blend, he knew better.

 

He took a seat next to her, the couch dipping down with his weight and her shifting away from him as he did so.

 

"Why are you trying to help the Risen? You were a blend before I vaccinated you…you were Lucy's blend…Why is it so bad that people are the same as what you were before?" Why are you trying to kill them?

 

It seemed that bringing Lucy into the matter set Addy off; dropping her act of being uninterested in him--to turning to him with a clear expression of anger. "Lucy didn't try to control me." She barked at him.

 

"But she could've." He responded simply.

 

"She never wanted to." Addy looked away from him again, but the anger didn't dissipate. Instead, it became almost a boiling hatred as she closed her one eye. The other eye had a different eyepatch on it now--a gift that Murphy had decided to make for her…and one that was in memorial of Lucy.

 

Instead of the plain eye that was designed on her eyepatch; in place of it was a greenish/blue eye with the whole eyepatch a dark blue color. A few blonde curls were placed along the blue in reference to Lucy's curly hair. He meant it as a gift to her--as in a way to show that Lucy was practically a part of her. Part of her family, her life--who she was. Bitten and a blend--previously Lucy's blend, and he always wanted her to remember that.

 

She had cried when he handed it to her--but he knew she wasn't entirely thankful for it. The eyepatch brought back those dark memories for her-- the fear of when she lost Lucy; when she couldn't feel her; when she knew Lucy was gone and she was all alone. Addy still wore it though-- under his control or not -- but the memories didn't stop from coming to her.

 

Sometimes she would keep it to herself-- mourning on her own, but other times, she would try to convey those memories over to him just out of spite. To show him what happened, and how she had been there for her when he hadn't. That she had died, and he missed out on all the times she was with Lucy.

 

How neither were able to protect her to the end.

 

Like now, she always started off with the lighter memories. Her and Lucy on the road-- together, just the two of them.  The trials that they faced together, helping one another and others when a zombie was threating the regulars. She would show him the good and the bad-- the sadness they faced and the fear that they were shown.

 

And then she'd start getting deeper. The time they were kidnapped, forced to leave one another, and all the emotions that followed for Addy. She'd show him the times when she'd look up in the sky-- knowing Lucy was there, until one night-- it was all gone.

 

He'd feel it too-- like losing a part of him in that exact moment. Where the stars never answered back, and the sky was left with darkness. The light-- the feeling of knowing she was there --vanished. Gone as if the wind had blown it all away.

 

It hurt. Every time she'd do it in spite of him, it would hurt both him and her. She'd be left with tear tracks down her face, but the ever-present hard glare she had gained once trying to keep out of his command stayed.

 

It always happened that way, even now, as the memories faded and Addy was left sitting there, gaze ahead as her eye stayed glued to one spot. Like her thoughts were rampant but the look she gave was mindless-- contrasting and hard to make of it.

 

Murphy, however-- once the memories stopped-- was left with that empty feeling. Sorrow and sadness building up to know that she was gone, and guilt to think that every blend he made wasn't what she wanted. He hated when Addy did that because he tended to contradict himself on the predicament that he had made.

 

That he wasn't right. That what he was doing wasn't good.

 

He was able to snap out of it though, convincing himself that what he was doing was good, and that it was what Lucy would've wanted for the world. She would've wanted this peace for people. If it hadn't been for the Risen's attacks, it would be just that…It would.

 

"Not this time, Addy." She wasn't going to guilt trip him, or cause that mourning to cause him to change any actions he had planned. He was right in what he was doing, and he wasn't going to stop.

 

He knew the conversation ended there, and that she wasn't going to tell him anymore. Whether that be about the Risen, or anything more of Lucy-- she was done. They were all done. Telling him or talking to him-- it didn't matter. They just sat there, just like in the kitchen, staring at their assigned locations and watching the war unfold.

 

A war that they had no control over.

 

Murphy got up, pacing the room as he ran a hand over his face, trying to rid the memories and feelings of loss. Leaning against a wall near the door, he closed his eyes as he concentrated on some of the blends in the war. It wasn't anybody particular, but once finding the random person, he centered in on the blend, seeing the scene for himself.

 

As he predicted, it was a bloodbath.

 

Blends were dropping left and right with gunshots and stab wounds--and the regulars were going just as quickly. Both his army and the Risen were holding their own though; neither making a clear advancement of achieving ground. The major area was the South that they were attacking but switching between the other blends along the other three borders-- all were starting to get hit hard.

 

When did the Risen get so many followers?

 

He turned back around, heading over to the large window that 10K sat near to see the cause of destruction on a greater scale. The guns being fired could be heard all the way up from where Murphy was, and the burning of buildings near the major points was covered by the billowing smoke. Those blends that were closer (unincorporated in the battle) were running to shelter as they screamed and hugged children or those who were injured or disabled close.

 

Fear… The one thing he promised wouldn't be in his new world, and yet here the Risen were to provide it.

 

The door flew open from behind Murphy--turning on a whim he caught Doc and Warren with their weapons raised to the unknown visitor. 10K and Addy were up just as quickly, standing near Murphy with their aim also trained on the unexpected guest with their weapons of choice…of Murphy's choice…

 

The 'unexpected guest' had just turned out to be Felix though-- his long brown hair falling down his face to hide his cut that was oozing blood. The man gripped his shoulder, heaving breaths from the long run to them then up the stairs.

 

 Murphy ran over to him-- helping him to the couch that no one was now occupying at the moment. Felix took it gratefully, letting out a sigh to be in a semi-relaxed environment and off any wounds that he had.

 

Murphy let him have his rest before prying for answers. Eventually, Felix started to talk through jagged breaths. "There's…there's a lot of them. They're taking out our greatest points from all sides…and our…our troops aren't fairing too well in it…" Felix took a breath, closing his eyes as if he were trying to forget horrific things that he had just saw.

 

Murphy wouldn't doubt it.

 

"Sir…I know you said we couldn't send them out, but I beg to differ…at least near the back lines…not too many are heading in from the east closer to town. There's only a few heading that way--and if they, "Felix motioned to the group before looking at Murphy straight in the eyes with nothing but seriousness. "If they just take out the lonesome Risen and protect that section…I believe that would be the best plan of action to your standards, sir."

 

Murphy didn't want to. He didn't want to send the group out into this…not with knowing that they would act up, but also because he didn't want to lose them. That this war could lead to the end of them; to their deaths.

 

But it's only a small portion…nothing they couldn't handle, and surely nothing they hadn't handled before. It would be easy to them, and with the proper control of them, it should go as planned.

 

"Fine…fine, alright. That's all. They only take down the few near the center." Murphy glanced to all of the group, and for the first time in a long time, they were all looking at him by their control. He wasn't sure if he was to take that as something good or if it was bad.

 

"Emerson, " Murphy instructed as Felix started to take the group to their battle stations. " Make sure they grab suitable weapons--fully loaded and put on extra gear. Oversee that, will you?" If he could prevent them from dying or trying anything at all, he would.

 

"Yes sir." Felix responded, motioning the group to follow him. Murphy followed them to the doorway, stopping Warren before she left by grabbing ahold of her arm.

 

"Don't try anything this time…got it?" He whispered into her ear--nothing in the way of harsh.

 

She didn't respond though, only looking forward before he released his grip on her to let her catch up to the group. Once out of sight, he headed down the halls the opposite way, traveling to the second floor instead. He rather he wasn't a sitting duck with no protection on the third floor, so being on the second with other blends seemed fitting enough.

 

Once on the second floor, he scampered down the halls, looking in the rooms to see who was doing what, and how many people stayed compared to those that evacuated. The makeshift lab was on the second floor, so that was one of the first ones he passed by. There were a few scientists bustling around--quickly packing away the blend/cure vaccine in case the Risen decided to take or destroy it. Other vials were being carefully placed in a safe (The password now modified from…well, password.).

 

 The vials contained a booster of sorts--medication if you will. It helped with his headaches due to the overstimulation of blends thoughts and emotions. The headaches had become less after he had taken it, and he was sure he wasn't going to die anymore from his brain exploding, so he took it that the medication did wonders. Thus, it was important enough to keep locked away and safe.

 

Carefully closing the door to the lab, he headed down the hall to where a voice could be heard.

 

"I repeat, seek shelter immediately. An attack against Toivo has started and innocents are not spared. Take cover." Simon was giving a mayday message to all those listening, since it was his assigned job as a radio broadcaster. He was distressed, switching controls to call for back-up to any other blend outposts.

 

Quickly making his way in, Murphy came behind Simon, the latter tensing once realizing another presence was in the room. " Finish up a recording and let it play on repeat. Kaya took JZ out of school, and they're both heading down to where Nana is staying. I advise that you do the same." Simon nodded, refraining from doing anything other until Murphy left.

 

With that, the message more than clear, he did as he left the room--hearing Simon go back to recording.

 

"The attacks are coming heavily along the southern border, but the surroundings aren't safe. Parents, please for the love of God if you're listening, get your children out of school now. No one is spared in this attack. Seek shelter and hide."

 

Just more fear.

 

It was odd. Murphy thought once the blend/cure vaccine was given out, the world would be at peace. And it was--less than he wanted, but more than before. Blends had jobs and took care of their families. They all saw friends, hung out, and went to bed with a full belly and warm sheets. Hell, they even were able to send their children to school.

 

Although zombies were put to the back of people's minds-- most of the old ones were taken to the basement to run tests on while the Talker's were cured and given the blend vaccine-- it was now a thing of the past. One thing the blends didn't have to worry about anymore.

 

It was even taught in schools, for crying out loud! Lessons like, "The History of the Human Race", "The Zombie Apocalypse" and "The Cure of the World" were all taught along with the other curriculum for the blend students. Humans, zombies, and the fear of them were all put in the past, but the Risen had decided to rekindle that fear again.

 

This war that started a year back, was the start to a new fire--growing higher and stronger the more it was added to, and Murphy was getting sick and tired of it. Couldn't they just accept that this life was better? Couldn't they just let him and his blends be?

 

He was heading back to the third floor, halfway up the steps before the building shook around him and he fell against the stairs.

 

Guess not then.

 

Another racketing explosion fired off, and Murphy raced down the stairs, drawing his handgun from his side along the way. If the Risen were going to blow up his main building, he wasn't going to be in it at the top floor, but he sure as hell was going to fight to keep it standing.

 

Once at the bottom, he hid behind a desk, seeing three Risen members calling for one another as they fled out the main entranceway. One had what looked to a homemade bomb in his grasp, motioning for the others to leave so he could set it off.

 

Murphy was not having that.

 

Rising from his spot, he shot one of the Risen members down, the regular falling from the shot to the heart, and turning into a Z merely seconds after. Murphy ducked back down as the two members fired back at him, but he kept his location, closing his eyes to control the newly made Talker.

 

Once in control, he was sure to make the Talker's movements swift as he controlled her to lunge at the man that was trying to kill her. She pounced on him, causing him to scream as she tore into his flesh in hunger for brains. The other man with the bomb fired his gun twice, killing the two but taking his focus off of Murphy long enough so that he was able to sneak out of sight.

 

"Back-up! Over here! He's over here!" The bomb man called, heading over to the previous spot Murphy had been with his gun raised. Seeing no one coming to the man's call, Murphy snuck up behind the man, easily killing bomb man with a shot in the head when it was revealed that Murphy wasn't in that location anymore.

 

The triumph of stopping another explosion was short, as one shook the building near the back.

 

"Oh, for the love of Go-" He was barely able to get his sentence out before his body convulsed in on itself. He was being tasered. Who in the world tasered someone in this day and age instead of shooting them?! In a war! Really?

 

He fell to the ground, unable to move the moment after the shocking stopped, as his hands were cuffed and a bag was tied over his head.

 

They were kidnapping him? The Risen were taking him? That was their plan, wasn't it? But why? They wanted to set the blends free, so why not just kill him when he was in their clutches? Why take him with them?

 

His gun was picked up off the floor, as he was gathered in the arms between what he assumed to be two bulky men. He tried to kick the one guy on his left in the kneecap, but someone in front of him punched him in the stomach, causing him to wince as he fell forward in pain.

 

"Hey!" He yelled as he was once again shoved forward to wherever they planned on taking him.

 

Come to the Main Activities Center… fire at any Risen regular near…I'm the one with the bag over his head.

 

He commanded any blend that was there to listen, while also notifying not to shoot him on accident.

 

Murphy heard gunfire coming closer, so he tried to struggle free again from the Risen's grasp, but he was thrown onto the bed of something metal, before he was shoved farther in and the back of whatever it was (a truck or car, was his guess) was closed.

 

With the bag tied over his head, the darkness he was consumed in, the air becoming hard to breathe, and the confining space of where he was thrown, he desperately called for the back-up of his blends. Although he heard guns firing, the truck started up all too soon as he was driven away in the small, cramped space.

 

And those bastards knew he was claustrophobic.

 

----line break----

Blake's POV:

 

They made it back to the Risen safe house a little after that, but almost immediately, they were split up from one another. Brett was ushered down the halls to where the rest of the army was, and Blake was instructed to head to her room.

 

She wasn't entirely keen on the fact that she had to leave Brett, and she wasn't fond at all with not knowing where they were taking him, but she conformed to what they instructed of her to do.

 

Once she got to the room, she opened the door quickly, closing it as she slid down the back. She was glad for the break--she really was, but she knew it was far from over. They might have gotten what they needed, but that didn't mean that getting it out there was going to be a piece of cake.

 

Walking over to her desk, she lit a saved candle that she would reuse time and time again, that being the only source of light she had. Well, that and a few other lanterns the Risen so gratefully provided. Blake plopped herself down on her chair, not particularly caring about the mess her room was, as she ran her hand over a few notes she had taken.

 

It wasn't much, other than everything new she was being informed of about the blends, which again, wasn't too much. There was very little knowledge at times, other than for what they heard from Mr. Murphy, and what they could gather from other sources. Nothing was entirely clear, and Blake was sure most were exaggerated at times, but it was the best that they could do.

 

She closed the notebook, glancing at her desk. The candlelight shown dimly on a picture, broken frame and shattered glass, looming on her desk. She usually kept from looking its way, the memories of failure and mourning coming back every time she did look, but she repressed it for now, grabbing the picture to look at it more closely in the light.

 

It was taken on a sunny day, clear of clouds in a park near her old house in Montana. She sat on the bench, smiling wide with her ginger hair draping down her right shoulder. Her other arm was wrapped around the small form of a little girl, brownish orange hair messily frizzing about as she leaned into Blake's side on the bench. The biggest smile ever was displayed on the little girl's face.

 

Blake and Jennifer…her little girl.

 

It was one of the last pictures she ever got of Jennifer; two days before the zombies had taken over the world actually. The photo she had run back to get a year or two into the apocalypse, since it was the last piece she really could preserve of her old life. Jennifer and Austin, her husband, already dead and turned.

 

She touched the frozen image of Jennifer, trying to make herself believe that her little girl was right beside her, laughing and babbling about something her and her Daddy had done together. But she was reminded all too soon that it wasn't real, and that she couldn't save either, as a tear slide down her face.

 

They were gone, but she wasn't.

 

She had a mission to carry through on, and as much as she wanted to see them--be with them whatever way she could, she knew she couldn't. Not yet.

 

A knock on her door had her stashing the picture back to where it had originally been, wiping the tears from her face, and creeping over to the door. There wasn't another knock, but she didn't think it was a blend or some sort of attack.

 

"Yes?" She asked, leaning against the door, cracking it open slightly to get a look at who it was.

 

It was a younger man-- early twenties maybe with short blonde hair and black eyes. Blake had seen him around the Risen safe house from time to time, but she never got to know him.

 

He handed her an envelope before heading down the halls without a word to (what she supposed was) deliver more envelopes.

 

It wasn't abnormal to have quiet people give you something then leave without saying anything anymore, so she didn't view it as suspicious. Instead, she was more intrigued than not.

 

Was it another mission? Another assignment she had to complete?

 

Heading back over to her desk, she carefully opened up the envelope, taking out the piece of paper and use the light from the candle to read it.

 

Assigned to Blake McLanley:

 

You have been given a mission from the Risen to complete. Read the following information carefully. Please note that some information was gathered from Mr. Alvin Murphy, and others who have claimed to know information about these topics. Some information may be over and/or under-exaggerated. Read with caution and consideration.

 

 The writing was written in (at least what Blake thought was) messy writing, but seeing as how printing hasn't been an option for years, handwriting was the go-to option. But still, another mission then…She had just gotten back from one and they were already sending her on another. Guess the apocalypse didn't wait for anyone--or more-so the rebellion didn't wait for anyone.

 

April 3rd, 2014--Known data of ZN1 testing

Between June and July, 2015-- Leaked information of first infected.

November 9th, 2016--Wednesday: The Zombie Apocalypse started.

Throughout the next two years, a cure was being tested and created.

2018: A cure has been found to work in Maine--transport of this cure has begun.

2019: The mission is handed down to a group of survivors. Destructive tornado sighting and nukes cause massive catastrophe and new Zombie breeds.

2020: A zombie hoard reportedly disappears near Arizona heading for the Grand Canyon. 

 

Blake took it that Operation Bitemark was the group of survivors mentioned. She never knew that there was a mission team prior though…although she wasn't actually sure what these notes had to do with her new mission.

 

Would she have to convince Mr. Murphy otherwise with the information she gathered? Right now, it seemed to be a layout of what happened prior to this date, but why it would play an effect in anything was still left for questioning.

 

2021: Spokane is 'used' as the first Blend outpost; Mission (supposedly) halted to retrieve the cure.

2022-2023: Outposts (not Blend) are set up in Canada.

2024: Experimental foam was reportedly sighted in some states. Black Rain--first Talker sighting a few months after.

2025-2028: Framed and uprising of Talkers. Blends being created due to misconception and manipulation of people believing a cure was being created for the Zombie Virus.

 

Out of all the information, Blake could agree that the last one was not exaggerated at all. Still, she already knew most of the information already given. Why was this so important now?

 

Survivors related to and/or involved in the mission:

 

Alvin Bernard Murphy:

Occupation: (unknown)

(Was prisoned for mail fraud Pre-Apocalypse)

Status: Considered alive--Most reference him as 'The Murphy' or 'Mr. Murphy'

 

Roberta Warren:

Occupation: National Guard--Stationed in Missouri (Lieutenant)

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend.

 

Grabbing a pencil from her table, she put in her own handwriting added information near Lieutenant Roberta Warren's and the others' stats'.

 

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Steven Beck:

Occupation: Addiction Counselor

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Addison Grace Carver:

Occupation: Collage art student

 Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Thomas (unknown):

Occupation: (unknown)

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Simon Cruller:

Occupation: Sys Op at NSA (previous hacker)

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Kaya (Cruller):

Occupation: (unknown)

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Mark Hammond:

Occupation: Army Lieutenant

Status: Deceased

 

Charles Garnett:

Occupation: National Guard--Stationed in Georgia (Sargent)

Status: Deceased

 

Lilly Madison Mueller:

Occupation: Previous Private (Promoted to Sargent)

Status: Deceased

 

Well…now Blake knew who the lady on Mr. Murphy's shrine for the fallen was.

 

Sun Mei:

Occupation: Researcher/ Scientist (Founder of the original cure)

Status: Deceased

 

"Red" (Unknown Name):

Occupation: (Unknown)

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Mack Thompson:

Occupation: Tri-City Americans Hockey player

Status: Deceased

 

Cassandra (Unknown):

Occupation: Collage interior designer student (Given by assumed family relative)

Status: Deceased

 

Georgia St. Clair:

Occupation: Previous freshman college student

Status: Mr. Murphy's Blend. (Unwillingly)

 

Lucy Serena Murphy:

Occupation: (Never had one--Born during the apocalypse)

Status: Deceased

 

The list of names ended there, and after reading through all the people that the Risen had gathered, Blake couldn't help but feel shocked.  Most people on there were dead, while the rest were made into blends. She expected a majority of death, but as it was laid flat out in front of her, she couldn't help but stare blankly at it.

 

So many people had died for this mission, and now look where it ended up. Such a cruel fate for all of them!

 

Blake didn't know why any of this was important. This was all past stuff, but the Risen saw it as important to whatever mission she was assigned to now. If anything, the information was pissing her off more than helping her learn. Still, she read on.

 

More names of those left unmentioned surely follow. Blake McLanley, you are assigned to free the world from the bondage of Blends, Zombies, and to save the following names listed above.

 

How in the world was she supposed to do that? Sure, the mission always held along the same lines of this, but why bring it up like this to her further? Why mention dead people if she had to save the ones that were alive?

 

A knock was heard at her door before a commanding voice shouted to her.

 

"McLanley, out here now! Your mission is here!"

 

It sounded like General Jackson was calling for her this time, demanding as always, but also rushing. What the hell did he mean by 'here'? Regardless, she grabbed her jacket and gear, her name written on the name tag of it, before she rushed near the door.

 

Stopping to take a look at the last line of her report, she opened the door to rush after Jackson.

 

Welcome to Operation Do-Over.

 

-----line break----

Murphy's POV:

 

It could have been hours, maybe minutes, but he lost track after a while. The bumps in the road and the darkness the bag offered didn't exactly help him count the time of arrival to wherever he was heading.

 

If they were taking him somewhere to kill him, they sure as hell were taking their time in doing so.

 

Murphy was sure he would suffocate in the bag before they were able to shoot him in the head. If that was their plan anyway.

 

Regardless, hours or minutes, they finally stopped and dragged him out of the vehicle. Well, more like threw him down on the ground before making him get up himself, and then carry him to whatever hell awaited.

 

"Permission to pass. We have the delivery." A deep voiced man to his right replied. Still, wow…it had been a long time since someone called him delivery-- package was the main one, but this was newish. It followed along the same lines.

 

The journey wasn't as long this time as they dragged him down to wherever. He tried to keep up with their pace but fell short most times to their speed-walking, so the two men on either side of him had to practically drag him the whole way.

 

The time off his feet was fine in all honesty, but when they slammed him against a chair in whatever room they entered, he was definitely not pleased. They strapped his arms and legs to the small metal chair, leaving the bag tied to his head from the time they started to the time they finished.

 

The air was becoming thick in the bag-- extremely hot and more-so carbon-dioxide than oxygen. They got him this far, and now they were going to let him die like this? Why not just shove him into the brazen bull burning death trap to cause him more suffering and them more enjoyment? Seemed that the Risen's minds worked that way anyways.

 

He heard one of the guys still in the room (the others he supposed left already) so he decided he might as well make conversation if he was going to die this way.

 

"You know, you guys are extremely bad at service. Last time I got on a transport vehicle, I at least got some Z-Weed to go with it. You guys just suck." He was also sent in the sick wagon at the back, and everyone on the trip ended up dying besides the group, but hey! It was the apocalypse after the nukes, so what are you going to do?

 

He was returned with a punch in the face, his nose starting to bleed but he wasn't able to wipe it away with his hands tied down and the bag over his head. "Hey!" Murphy yelled.

 

"Shut up." The same man with the deep voice replied, his tone angry, but Murphy could hear the smirk in his words.

 

That's no way to talk to your Savior of Humanity.

 

Instead of responding with that, he tried a different tactic.  "Mind taking this bag off my head? The airs starting to get stuffy and not in a good way."

 

He was meant with silence at first before a grumble was heard and the tie around the bag was loosened. The man finally pulled the bag off his head, and a whiff of cool, fresh air met Murphy.

 

He blinked his eyes rapidly at first, ignoring the blood dripping down his face. The room wasn't as lit up as Toivo homes and buildings (probably because the place didn't have electricity other than a few spots) but it was fairly decent. It looked more like a lab or testing facility where he was.

 

Parts were scattered about amongst desks, the walls white and the tiled floors grey. There were similar chairs with straps like the one Murphy was tied to, but all were empty except the one he occupied. There were a few other people moving around who Murphy guessed were Risen doctors and scientists who worked in this makeshift lab.

 

The man who had taken the bag off of Murphy's head-- the name on his nametag saying "Russel", came closer to him to look at his bloody nose.

 

Russel laughed, grabbing a towel from his back pocket as he walked up to Murphy. "Really did a number on ya, huh? Not looking so frightening when you're all alone and tied up, are ya?" Russel's deep British accented voice mocked as he wiped the blood from Murphy's face.

 

I'm much more 'frightening' than you know.

 

Showing the man otherwise, he headbutted Russel in the face when he got close enough. With a yell, Russel fell backwards, grabbing his forehead as he dropped the towel.

 

"You bastard!" Although the act caused Murphy's forehead to pound, he just smiled back in return to knowing that he proved the man wrong.

 

Russel started to tread his way over angerly, winding up to punch him again before a scientist stopped him from doing so.

 

"General wants to see you, sir." The scientist said, stepping in front of Russel before he could carry through on his attack. Russel looked Murphy's way, Murphy titling his head cockily, as Russel grumbled and headed for the door.

 

"Don't let General wait!" Murphy called, earning an enraged glare shot back towards him. Murphy kept smiling in return to Russel's direction before he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

 

After that, it was more of a waiting game than not. None of the scientists paid much mind to him, and nobody else came into the room to question, kill, or even beat him. It was odd. Why hadn't they just killed him already? He was in their clutches, completely defenseless exempting a few minor tricks up his sleeve. The longer that they allowed him to be on his own, the longer his blends had to find him. Didn't they know that?

 

He didn't quite understand where this was going, but he was sure he would find out soon.

 

Taking the time to his advantage, he called for back-up of his blends again, trying to call for them to find him. They hadn't traveled too long. It didn't feel like two hours, nor did it feel any longer than that, but he wasn't actually sure. Again, he had stopped counting after the time started to all run together.

 

After sending the message again, he decided to focus on how the war was doing back at Toivo. He started with the South, seeing through the blend's eyes that the Risen had made an advance closer to town, but there was a lot of their soldiers dead along the way. His blend count was dropping throughout all sides too, but it was much less than the Risen members.

 

What were they doing?

 

They were sacrificing themselves for what? Were they just killing themselves in battle to lower his blend numbers? What were they after to risk all their lives for?

 

They had him…what else would they want?

 

Red, Cooper, and George were stationed on the West side near the back. Despite having less soldiers, there wasn't too many attacking from that end, so the battle seemed to be holding up fairly well. None of the three had died or gotten injured either, so he took it as a win in that perspective.

 

The last place he went to check was on Warren, Doc, 10K, and Addy--the four not breaking out of his control yet from what he could tell. He zoned in on a female blend (Nancy) shooting beside Doc. They were all doing fairly well taking down the regulars hiding behind buildings and other fallen things and such that they were using as shelter.

 

Doc and Nancy were shooting from behind large trash containers, while 10K and Addy were farther left of him behind a half-wall set around a drained water-fountain, and Warren was by herself behind a concrete wall.  Bombs were being thrown to either side, blends coming to help the four take down the new regulars that were forcing their way through the town.

 

The battle seemed to be holding up well, Nancy and Doc were able to take down two who had started to sneak around the back before another grenade was thrown near them, but not quite reaching them.

 

"I'm almost 60 years old! Can't this world give me a damn break for once?!" Doc shouted over the gunfire, leaning his head up against the container before going to shoot again. As if to answer his question, another bomb went off, causing a blend to scatter in pieces and one of the legs to fly at Doc.

 

It hit him in the face, causing him to fall back down to the ground for cover, before the leg landed in his lap. He held it up in front of him, the joint causing the leg to bend back distracting Nancy for a moment. Another shot rang out, this one lodging right in Nancy's head causing her to die and him to lose his connection.

 

The sting of the bullet was left with him, as he leaned forward and hissed in pain. Another bad thing about wars and blends-- when he focused on them, he felt their pain…and had some feeling of their death. Thus, the sting of the bullet on his forehead.

 

Some of the scientists' gaze lingered on him before he recomposed himself and sat back upright in his seat-- the ties on his arms and legs not letting him go far anyway. It wasn't a moment after before two people entered the room.

 

One was a tall, grizzly bear of a man with a bushy black beard and short black hair. He was decently tall, all decked in military gear with the tag 'Jackson' written on it. Beside him stood a fairly tall woman with long ginger hair tied in a ponytail, bangs hanging down to cover her forehead. She had olive like skin and narrow black eyes with subtle crow's feet. A frown displayed on both of their faces along with rage.

 

Now they were getting somewhere…

 

"Mr. Murphy…It's been a very long time." Jackson drawled, coming closer to Murphy.

 

"I--sir." One of the scientists butted in nervously as Jackson neared Murphy. "I-- uh, I wouldn't get too close if I were you. He attacked Russel--a um, a few minutes ago."

 

"Didn't plan on it." Jackson responded, stopping in his spot a good foot or so away.

 

"And he bites." The lady (McLanley written on her nametag) said, coming to stand beside Jackson. Murphy smirked in reply at her.

 

"Not one to play nice…at times that is." He winked towards her, but she scowled in reply, looking him over.

 

"Thought you'd be scarier being a tyrant over millions of poor people. Guess I was wrong." McLanley fired back as she crossed her arms over her chest.

 

"Weren't much battle material yourself back at Altura. My group decided to take pity, I suppose." He had seen most of the battle from their eyes as he tried to get them back under his control. McLanley didn't seem to be one of the main fighters, but more-so a fleeter in some case-scenarios. Or maybe one who did fight, but a back-line fighter instead. Either one he had more knowledge of than not.

 

He saw her twitch at the mention of his group, but she repressed from answering further as Jackson stared between the two. Most likely surprised that a meeting had occurred already.

 

He didn't wait for either to respond back to him before Murphy started to ask questions of his own. "What do you want?" He nearly barked out at them, staring between the two. He had a race to run, and this was not one of the things on his checklist to complete.

 

The irritated face Jackson gave him in return was satisfactory enough to Murphy. The man gave a sigh before he spoke.

 

 "Seeing as how we've come far pass negotiating the matter of blends, I'm going to tell you now. Whatever way you know, you're going to stop making and controlling blends. If not, we'll take this even further into our own hands." Jackson threatened, meaning it full well unlike Janice had with her hollow threat.

 

The threat however didn't even faze Murphy. He was going to stop? They were going to make him stop? Yeah, right. They wouldn't know what they were causing if he did stop. The destruction, and murder, and evil that would fill the world the second he released on his control.

 

"This is the difference. You think the blends are such a bad thing. What none of you seem to realize is all the good their species is bringing to the world. Have you ever just thought about it? Looked at it?" Looks like some people weren't doing their research.

 

The group had been quick to jump to the Risen's side, and now he was seeing what the Risen were based off of. Just ordinary people who hadn't caught up on their homework.

 

"The 'blends' aren't necessarily the problem, Mr. Murphy." That caught Murphy off guard for a second as his face clearly displayed a look of confusion. How were they not a problem when this whole rebellion was based off of them? 

 

"There's only a temporary peace in all of this, and even then, it's all falling through. You are the problem, with both your force of control and command over unwilling people." Jackson continued, enraging Murphy more.

 

" Unwilling? Most of these people knew what they were going into--they embrace it!" They live lives of peace! The only reason that peace was falling through was because these numb nuts were attacking them!

 

"They don't embrace it! Not the ones you're controlling. Not the ones you're putting out on the battlefields to risk their lives! They wanted a cure, and you gave them a new fear. A new form of dictatorship!" McLanley accused, stepping forward and closer to him much to Jackson's and the other scientists' fear.

 

"The blend vaccine is the cure. If it weren't for your little 'uprising' there would be no war." Murphy shot back, just as harsh as she was.

 

"Our uprising was formed because of the lack of control and willingness you allow people. Life is based around free will--take it from the Bible or plain day to day experience. You took away people's free will and put them under your regime to something you thought was better." Jackson came closer too, pushing McLanley out of his way but also staying a fair distance away from Murphy.

 

"Let me tell you, Mr. Murphy." Jackson continued. " The world was not meant to be that way. We all have choices to make. You made yours and now we're making ours." Jackson backed up, crossing his arms over his burly chest. "Now you have a second choice to make. You either release the blends and we find a way to revert them back to humans."

 

"--Regulars." Murphy butted in, but Jackson ignored it.

 

"Or we do it ourselves--without your say, and that way-" Jackson stopped, almost smiling as if the idea was grand but a great punishment. "-you will not like."

 

"Well, I'm not too fond of this right now, so how much worse could you make it?" He knew they could make it much worse, but Murphy wasn't one to hold back on snarky remarks. At any given moment or any given time.

 

"What will it be, Mr. Murphy?" Jackson asked again, irritated even farther and demanding.

 

Murphy pretended to think it over, but he already knew what his answer would be. He would never give up what he had built. He would fight this battle until the end--fight it to the day when the world was in peace without war and the world was a new race of blends.

 

And on that day, when Jackson and McLanley were his blends, he would stand in front of them and show them what the world was like without regulars with free will. That the decision he made today was the reason for a perfect world in the future. That they were wrong.

 

"Try to stop me…I may be at the disadvantage now, but you have no idea what war can be like." Murphy smiled because this may not be a victory, but it wasn't a loss either. "I'm just getting started."

 

They had no idea what he was capable of. Virtually, he had been going easy on them. Trying to reduce causalities and the lives of his blends. If they wanted war, Murphy would be anything in slacking to provide it.

 

Jackson nodded his head, knowing that he was going to take the hard way--whatever that be.

 

Jackson turned to a few Risen soldiers who had been guarding the door, nodding to them as he spoke. "Do it. Alert them." Jackson commanded.

 

The oldest looking soldier in the middle nodded, grabbing what looked to be a walkie-talkie from his bag and speaking to whoever was on the other end. "Option T has been approved." Darn. How many options had they went through already? "General commands to follow through immediately."

 

There was static a few seconds before another muffled voice spoke. "Copy that."

 

Jackson turned to Murphy, this time closing the distance between them-- not even worrying that Murphy would try something. "You said you're not one to play nice sometimes? Well, " Jackson laughed to himself this time as he smirked down at Murphy. "We're ones to play dirty."

 

Anger boiled inside Murphy at the lack of answer given to what their 'dirty play' was, as Jackson ushered McLanley closer to the exit, but not quite leaving yet.

 

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Murphy called. "We're not done here!"

 

"I think we are." Jackson replied but stayed stationed near the door as if he was waiting for something to happen.

 

Murphy wanted shout at them-- tell them otherwise and that they were a bunch of numb-skulls who were so thick headed that they didn't know what they were talking about-- what they were fighting for even. But that was all halted as pangs of pain hit him, and the feeling of mass death slithered across Murphy's body. Each hurting worse and not letting up.

 

They were killing the blends…

 

They had some hidden weapon and now they were using it.

 

The deaths didn't stop for just soldiers in the war. Innocents were being killed left and right. Mothers protecting what was left of their families. Fathers who were fighting in and out of battle. Children who were crying over their parent's dead corpses only to be shot after with no mercy given. Elders and babies alike weren't even spared.

 

If they were a blend--they were killed.

 

He wasn't sure if he was yelling as he toppled forward in pain, or if he was making it up.

 

 It hurt…

 

It hurt so bad.

 

The deaths of them all piled up, as tears prickled in his eyes. Thoughts were rampant before they ceased and new ones overtook before they stopped as well. Murphy could almost feel the bullets ripping through his skin--he could hear the cries and screams of those left defenseless and innocent.

 

"What the hell are you doing!" Murphy forced out through choked breaths--his face becoming even redder than it was as he felt as if he was deprived of all oxygen in the room.

 

He barely saw the confused look McLanley gave Jackson, or the sinister smirk Jackson gave him in return.

 

"Due justice."

 

Murphy tried to stop it-- tried to keep the pain and the screams and tears from reaching him. He wanted it all to stop! The thoughts, headaches, killing, all of it! He didn't want to surrender but what was a perfect world without all the blends? --each being mercilessly killed as each second passed.

 

He couldn't say anything. Even with trying to stop his control against the blends it didn't help. Whether he tried to save them or leave them for dead-- he felt more.

 

He felt all of it.

 

He could hear the shots--deafening his ears over and over, and the bullets piercing his skin a thousand times more than he ever thought was possible. With each shot and each bullet, it only got louder and more painful, but one rang above all the rest.

 

He felt it before his brain could even compute it. He felt the bullet tear through his forehead and the life force completely vanish within seconds of the pain.

 

Doc was dead…

 

"NO!" Murphy jerked forward, but the pain didn't let up--in fact becoming even worse the more he tried to prove it wrong. The more he tried to tell himself it wasn't real…

 

He couldn't feel Doc's happy, stoned-high, lighten the mood, relaxed personality anymore. The life-force was gone, and the bond was broken.

 

Doc was dead…

 

They killed Doc!

 

He thrashed forward, odd golden eyes ablaze as the only pain he could feel was the one lodged in his head. Like he could still feel the bullet there.

 

Murphy couldn't speak--not when he saw Jackson's smirk, or McLanley's confusion. Not when he felt the group's own anger and grief flood into him so vividly and strong. He couldn't do anything but feel and try to break free.

 

To try to choke the man in front of him for killing his friend.

 

Another pang of pain hit him in the shoulder this time-- the area feeling as if it were on fire as he fell forward again-- this time knowing that he was yelling, but it sounded mixed to him with Addy's scream of pain. It didn't even feel as if another second went by before another gunshot bombarded his eardrums and Addy's feeling was gone too, but the pain still remained.

 

They were killing his friends! Addy and Doc were dead!

 

He didn't know what to do-- what to say. He could just feel the anguishing pain never ceasing to let up and the mourning and hatred from both the last two members of his team and himself.

 

They were dying.

 

His mental link was strained, his whole body deathly unconditioned for any of this, but he tried with all his will to command some near blends to get the last of his group off the battlefield. He couldn't let them die. Not anymore! He just lost two of them!

 

Get them out of there!

 

He repeated it over and over, his head feeling the effects of it, but he wouldn't let up-- much like the pain.

 

It didn't help though. Even with the command repeating over to any blend near, another shot was fired and 10K's life-force broke from his just like back at Mount. Casey…except this time, he wasn't going to be brought back.

 

No! No! No!

 

Warren was the only one left, and he did everything-- absolutely everything-- to get her safe. His only group member left…the last one of his family.

 

But he felt a shift in control-- the angry rising, but the mourning was the most prominent. Determination building after that. Like she was set on something…

 

Like she had a mission.

 

He felt her walk with every step, and each one he tried to take control back. She pushed through him though, despite his commands and control.

 

Stop! Stop!

 

She didn't let up. Not as the bullets pierced her chest or as the pain engulfed each one.

 

"NO! Stop!" He yelled aloud this time, but he didn't even know. He didn't care. Roberta was dying! He was losing her!

 

She forced on, despite jagged motions or pain erupting through each of them, she wouldn't stop.

 

"Stop!!" He yelled louder, but it was too late. Another shot slashed through the air, finding its target and lodging itself into the head of the strongest woman he had ever met. Relief, the very last thing she felt before her death.

 

And he was left alone. The pain becoming numb to him and the rampant thoughts becoming void.

 

They were dead.

 

His group was dead.

 

He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't. They didn't die! They couldn't die. Not from the vaccine. Not from bullets. Not from the Risen. The group was unkillable, but here they lay dead on the battlefield-- their life-forces vanished…separating them from the world for good. Separating them from him…

 

"What did you do?!" He forced out again. Anger, hatred, and disbelief rising inside him. "What the hell did you do, you sick bastard?!"

 

That smirk that remained there from the first shot to the last never let up on Jackson's face. Not now or then.

 

"Remember. You asked for this, Mr. Murphy."

  

With that, Murphy's screams and hollering towards the man and the pain never subsiding, Jackson and McLanley left the room silently. Leaving Murphy strapped to the chair, with all the more punishment on the way.

 

----line break----

Blake's POV:

 

She didn't understand. She didn't know why Mr. Murphy had been yelling-- what kind of torture they were putting him through? None of it made sense. Blake was never informed of what Option T was, but it must have been a horrible one to get that kind of reaction from the dictator.

 

Despite her confusion, she couldn't help but admit that she enjoyed it. Watching him squirm and yell-- like he was getting back what he did. Paying for his sins.

 

She had enjoyed it…but not when she found out why Mr. Murphy had been acting that way.

 

Her and Jackson walked down the hall, as she looked back towards the room they were holding Mr. Murphy in. She knew there was more of a plan to this, but with the unknown of what was happening before, and her already lack of knowledge to what the Risen planned-- she was left in the dark to what was happening.

 

"What was that?" She quietly asked, excitement laced in her voice along with curiosity. "How did you get him to do that? Were you shocking him? Ooh! Was this what the notes were for? Like some new type of…mind manipulation device?"

 

He didn't answer back immediately, but when he went to speak, he stopped in his tracks-- Blake following suit mere seconds before she bumped into him.

 

"No." He responded as he looked her in the eyes. He didn't say anything else, so she prodded for an answer.

 

"Okay…" She didn't like the way he held her gaze. Like he was hiding something-- not ashamed (far from that by how he acted back in the lab) but something else. "What’s Option T then?"

 

Jackson nodded, thinking over his answer. Was it really that big of a secret? Was it something bad? Good? God, she hoped it was good. They needed some good news once in a while.

 

"Have you got your mission assignment yet?" He opted to ask first, confusing Blake all the more.

 

"I do, yeah." She patted the side pocket in the front. "Does it correlate to Option T?"

 

"No." He said again, so simply that it was starting to frighten her.

 

"Then…what is it?" Why was it so hard to get an answer now? It was starting to worry her. What happened?

 

"Option T is another way to get through to Mr. Murphy and stop the blends…not as much so for stopping the blends. It is more-so to reinforce our power, and show Mr. Murphy who he is messing with, and how we will react to a given situation."

 

God, please say it's good.

 

"…And how so?" Blake wasn't sure she wanted an answer. She was worried and now afraid. What had they done back there?

 

"Any living blend that was found-- on the battlefield or in hiding-- was shot back at Toivo. Our soldier's rate is now decreased, but the blends rate has dropped immensely from the attack. The other outposts are in our future plans for Option T in case Operation Do-Over doesn't go as planned." Jackson explained, and Blake didn't know how to respond.

 

She didn't know what to say…like she could say anything at all. They had killed the blends? The Risen had killed innocent people forced under the control by Mr. Murphy? Did they not have any remorse?

 

They were killing people! People just like them who weren't given the option of free will. The Risen had an option, just like Jackson said, and they used it to kill people-- ridding them from having any option of free will ever again!

 

Is that how everyone was thinking now? Brett, Jackson, all of the Risen? Was this the new threat-- new way to treat others who weren't given an option?

 

Her mouth hung open as she stared into Jackson's emerald green eyes. She had always seen that compassion and caring in them. To a little child or a stray pet. A wounded person emotionally or physically.

 

Now all she saw was vengeance. Like there was an empty, soulless void that stared back at her. That was fine with killing innocents and had no negative feeling otherwise. That had laughed at the fact of killing them.

 

To say she was disgusted was beyond how she felt. To say she was angry was underexaggerated.

 

Blake didn't care about the punishments anymore. She'd take them. She wouldn't do this. She wouldn't be on a team who killed like this. Killed to free; Not for justice.

 

Her fist landed against Jackson's jaw, knocking him to the ground, but she didn't stop. She tackled him after the attack, taking the time he let his guard down into her advantage as she beat him into a pulp. He may be taller and stronger, but she was far beyond angry, and she now didn't have a feeling otherwise to what she was doing.

 

"You think that that's alright?! You just went and killed them all! What was the point of the papers? What was the point of risking all those people's lives if we weren't going to make a cure? If we just planned on killing them instead?" She yelled, punching him over and over causing his nose to bleed and blood to spew out of his mouth.

 

As she expected, he overpowered her, pushing her down against a wall then back towards the ground. With Jackson on top of her, both her hands and feet pinned down to the floor, she could do nothing more than thrash and yell back at him.

 

"Get off of me! Get off!" She tried to kick him, but his weight on top of her was too much.

 

"McLanley, stop." He kept his voice low, calm almost as his blood dripped onto her face.

 

"Let go of me!"

 

"McLanley!" He yelled this time, pushing her arms into the tile making her wince.

 

"Is this what you planned on doing all along? Just killing them? All the blends…What do you think is going to happen when Mr. Murphy attacks us again. With Operation Bitemark and the rest of his army?" Her voice was lower, not a scream anymore, but she was all the more harsh and bitter as she spat each question to him.

 

He inhaled, almost as if he was expecting another attack from her. "They won't. Operation Bitemark is dead."

 

The words rang in her ears, but she didn't pick it up at first. Had she just heard him correctly? Did he…

 

" You mother-" She tried to punch him again. Headbutt him. Something!

 

"McLanley!" He yelled harsher, digging his knee into her stomach to try to get her to stop.

 

"I was assigned to save them! My mission was to save them, and you just killed them!" She couldn't help it as tears prickled in her eyes. She didn't know them, sure, but she knew enough about them.

 

"You will!" He tried harder. "Operation Do-Over was created after Option T."

 

"I can't save them if their dead, asshole!" She yelled, nearly spitting in his face.

 

He gave a harsh sigh, never releasing his grip on her arms other than stopping from kneeing her in the stomach.

 

"I'm going to let you up, and we're going to talk about this like civilized adults. Can you do that?" His voice was irritably calm for the whole situation, spiking her anger higher.

 

She nodded though, tight lipped as he helped her off the ground. Blake didn't hesitate in the split second she was back on her feet before she advanced on him again, trying to push him back into a wall and hopefully knock his head.

 

Jackson sensed it though, grabbing her arm while his other hand pushed into her side, forcing her against the opposite wall instead. "Really?" He asked, but she gave no response other than a growl.

 

"Operation-" He stopped, as she pushed up against him to get him off of her, grunting before continuing. "Operation Do-Over is a way to save them. The papers you and Edmonson gathered? Yeah, those are important for this. Got them in my backpack right now. Let me explain this to you, and if you don't like it, you can beat me up. Agreed?"

 

"I already don't like it." She growled out.

 

Jackson sighed. "Hear me out…please."

 

She huffed through her nostrils before agreeing. She would hear him out, but the second after, she was going to beat the living daylights out of him.

 

Jackson shuffled through his bag, pulling out two items. One was a metal container, and although it looked thin, it seemed durable. The other was a folder wrapped in a plastic air sealed bag. He handed both to her. The container labeled "Sun Mei" while the folder was without one.

 

She looked at them confused, a scowl still present on her face, before he clarified. "Operation Do-Over is set to bring a cure to the world…before the world was inhabited by blends, but during a time the zombies roamed the earth."

 

And now Jackson was even more insane than she already thought. She gave her own laugh of disbelief as she looked at him. "Can't. That won't happen unless you kill all the blends…which-" She stopped herself, glaring harder at the General before he held up his hands in defense.

 

"Not that way." He pointed to the folder, opening his cupped hand to set a letter down on it. Blake eyed it suspiciously, turning it over to read what it said.

 

Operation Do-Over: Time Travel

 

Her mouth hung open as she looked at it, reading it five times over and still not understanding it. The Risen were insane! They had all gone mad! What was this? A mystery, horror, supernatural, action thriller? Far from it.

 

Her disbelieving laugh was louder now as she shook her head and looked at him. His face remained unchanging to any of it, and she hated it even more.

 

She threw the container, note, and folder down on the floor-- the metal clang sounding throughout the hall with its echoes. "What is this? Some sick, twisted joke to you? Killing and now this?" Her voice rose again, but she didn’t care. She'd be tending a hell of a sore throat later, but what did it matter when she stood in front of a man who committed mass genocide and felt nothing for it? That she was a part of this team?

 

"The leaders assigned you on a mission to travel back before any of this happened. Back before the people on your list died--before the blends became a dominant race and Mr. Murphy became their ruler."

 

"You're mad. That's not possible."

 

"It is now, and you're a member of it."

 

"No! That's-" She stopped herself. All of it was insane. None of it made sense. She couldn't make sense of any of it.

 

"The container holds what Sun Mei needs, and the folder holds plans on where and how to travel back in time in case a screw-up happens, or if Mr. Murphy doesn't conform." Jackson explained further despite Blake's confusion to all of it. "Listen to me, McLanley. You may think this is insane, I don't expect you not to, but it's real. We figured out Time Travel, and with that, we're going to cure the world again."

 

He stopped for a moment. "You'll be able to see your little girl again, and you'll be able to save millions of people who have already been killed before all of this. You told me you'd hear this out. Do you?"

 

She couldn't. What could she hear out but ludacris?

 

Blake stumbled on her words, before she gave up. Whether you believe or not, play along and see where it goes. If she didn't like it, she'd leave. The Risen weren't stable, she could see that now. Their viewpoints were jagged, and in all cases to whatever group was ever formed, there would always be some form of evil.

 

"He won't listen. You send me back in time with all this knowledge-"

 

"That he will have too."

 

"What?" Had Jackson just said that Mr. Murphy would remember everything as well? That he had all this knowledge and could easily manipulate it into his favor again?

 

"You and him will be the only two to remember. He has the most knowledge while you are the only one who can keep him in line out of all the people in the Risen. The other members may be more lenient in what he does, but the leaders knew you wouldn't be one to take anything otherwise."

 

"And with his knowledge, he's going to take advantage of that. You'll be making him even more dangerous whether or not I have a gun in my hand."

 

"Not if you have something he wants over his head."

 

"Dictatorship." She answered.

 

"No. His daughter." Her mouth hung open yet again.  "Convince him to follow your orders or else he dies and never gets to see his daughter. Mr. Murphy always preached a happy ending…make him believe that he'll get one if he conforms."

 

She let out an unfaithful scoff in this plan. Time Travel, manipulation, holding other human beings over other people's heads…Mr. Murphy. It was a doomed plan from the start.

 

"You've been assigned this mission, McLanley. You've heard me out, now what do you decide?"

 

She decided that it would fail in the end and that it was insane, but she had no other choice but to decline and let the Risen go and kill more innocent blends.

 

"And I'm all alone?"

 

Jackson's smirk revealed itself again at her confirmation, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face.

 

"You're the only member of Operation Do-Over."

 

----line break---

Roberta Warren's POV:

 

Warren was used to dark, ominous, zombie infested hallways. She was used to waiting for the Z's to come after her; to eat her brains. She was used to traveling with her group; completing the task at hand that would hopefully result in a better day tomorrow.

 

She was not used to roaming down brightly lit hallways, heading to a war that was not her own. She wasn't used to being given a task that she couldn't do anything about. She wasn't used to being completely under control.

 

She hadn't been. Not now. Not before. Not even in the span of two years that it had been like this. She never got used to it-- probably never would.

 

That didn't change it though. What she thought anymore didn't change an outcome in any better or worse way. It didn't stop her traveling down the hallway, zombie free and almost entirely clean, with her group to head to a battle that was raging along the outside of the kingdom Murphy had built up.

 

She and her group were stuck with a mission now. One they couldn't get out of, and one that they didn't have an ounce of control over.

 

She took careful steps in front of her group, quiet to not alert anyone of her arrival, but she knew it wouldn't matter anyway. Murphy knew where she-- where they -- all were. He had already informed the other blends of their approaching, so quiet or not, it played no effect on the outcome.

 

Nothing ever did anymore.

 

They rounded another corner, but with the journey so quiet already, it was broken at that turn.

 

"You know, when I asked what was wrong with being a blend; I really should have put more emphasis on the uncontrolled part." Addy said.

 

"Don't think it would've changed much anyhow. We already took the vaccine." Doc countered back, creeping along the walls with the rest of them.

 

Warren took the front of the group, Addy behind her while 10K and Doc were more beside the redhead or next to Warren. Not much of a single file line, but it worked in the open, empty hallway.

 

"Wished it would've changed his mind…" Addy turned to 10K, her gun at her side as she let her guard down. "You were right. This really is like a living hell." He nodded in agreement.

 

It had been a couple months ago that they had talked about Spokane, and despite some angering instances, they managed to find a way to possibly infuriate Murphy more. Ignoring him was one of the ways, and acting mindlessly to much everything else was another. She knew it got on Murphy's nerves, but it was a way to show they still had control, and any chance they got, they would prove it.

 

They also had to save up on the times they did so. When they broke from his control, he would put more on them, so they had to be careful when they would and wouldn't. To keep the blends from killing more humans had been a suitable option to break free, but it brought them here-- to a war they were heading to and even more control on them than they had in the previous two years.

 

Not something she-- or any of them-- were happy about.

 

"We'll be exiting this building out to where some other blends are soon. Keep your guard up and don't show them what we've got." Warren informed, looking back towards the three momentarily before returning her vision back in front of her.

 

Whether it be Murphy or the blends, they didn't act differently in front of either. It was only when they were by themselves or with George or Red, that they acted normally.

 

"Got it, Chief." Doc nodded, raising his gun in front of him more alert. Long range weapons were all they were given this time-- no Z-Whacker or icepick, so they knew Murphy had sent them to the back lines to fight the few Risen members.

 

Why? She wanted to assume that he was worried for their wellbeing, but at the moment, she was never sure with Murphy.

 

Racketing and growls were heard farther down the hallway, causing the group to tense up and become quiet. The second they were back in their mindless positions; four old zombies rounded the corner-- hands tied behind their backs as a couple blends ushered them with cattle prods farther into the building.

 

The four zombies growled at them, but paid no mind otherwise, other than one of the zombies sniffing Doc's face before being shocked and told to move forward.

 

Once the blends and zombies were out of sight, Doc gave a shiver and 10K looked forlorn down the hallway to where the zombies left.

 

" I'll never get use to that." Doc shook. "Gives me the heebie-jeebies any time they just look at me. I mean, guess it's better than eating your brains, but still…" Warren couldn't help but agree as she grunted in response.

 

She wouldn't take the blend life just to be ignored by zombies. In fact, she rather be human-- or whatever she was before the vaccine.

 

"Those would've been your last few kills, huh?" Addy asked 10K who had just returned his attention back in front of him.

 

"Last four." He confirmed, a definite frown displayed on his face.

 

Warren turned back towards him when they came to the exit out near where the battle was taking place. "Once we get out of this-- out of Toivo and Murphy's control-- we'll track those few Z's down for you." It wasn't much of a tease, but she still spoke somewhat playfully as she nodded towards him. "First things first. Let's get out of his control."

 

They all understood, as Warren pushed open the door, smoke bombarding their lungs and gunfire becoming all the louder.

 

"Who would've thought they wouldn't have run out of bullets by now?" Doc asked-- mostly what was on all their minds. Twelve years in and people still have enough ammunition for a war. Figures.

 

They crept along the buildings-- no Risen members in their sight-- before they saw the meet-up location of a few other blends that were helping along near the center. They made their way over carefully, getting pushed into the group of blends the second they were close enough.

 

"Not too many this time-" Warren was sure they missed some of the speech, but she continued to listen on from where they came in. "The rest of you will be near the back. Operation Bitemark-" The leader blend addressed, motioning towards them. "You'll be along the back with Quilan, Alaskases, Martinez, and Johnson. Team up and stay low!" The blend commanded, before the small group of blends broke.

 

The four that Warren and her group were assigned with started making their way towards the back. Warren wasn't too willing to be caught up with them, so she and the group followed farther behind the blends.

 

"Team up, huh?" Doc said, glancing along the blends, but keeping his voice low. "Think Murphy'll allow us to band together in twos?"

 

"I wouldn't say it's best to be too close. Better to split a little farther to get a fair distance of coverage in these attacks…especially when we're going to try to help the Risen again." Warren lowered her voice at the last part.

 

She gazed around at the four blends as they made their way closer. Warren knew they wouldn't be picking their own teams, but it was better if they could get a general location of where they would be fighting from in the back.

 

"I'll try to stay near the farthest left with whoever I'm paired up with." Warren decided. Even if the blend she was paired with isn't keen on the idea, she'd try to make it over to the location anyways-- testing the boundaries with the control Murphy had on her.

 

"Guess I'll take right-- near you." Addy cleared, nodding to Warren.

 

10K smirked beside her, gesturing his head to the right. "I'll stay in your peripheral vision on your right…Cyclops." He teased.

 

She gave a quiet laugh in return, bumping her shoulder against his. "Got it, Lefty." She raised her hand in front of his face with a smirk of her own. "Tell me if you need a hand."

 

He playfully glared back at her, as Doc spoke. "I'll be taking far right then."

 

"Sounds like a plan." Warren agreed, just as they came up to the four blends. As they supposed, they were partnered up with one of the blends-- getting separated from one another, but in the locations where they had picked luckily.

 

The locations allowed for them to be heard as well…that is if they shouted, but efficient in giving or signally any command to one another.

 

From there, the battle raged on, blends and Risen dropping steadily. There wasn't too many Risen-- much like she heard Felix say, but it seemed that every time they took down a bunch, another one or two would pop up.

 

She didn't have time to question what they were after, or why they were attacking now. Most times, she focused on missing her shot, or getting a lonesome blend from behind to help the Risen make their way through. She would kill some of the Risen though, or even injure them just to sell the act that she was helping Murphy.

 

She had been lucky not to get caught, but a few close calls had happened with the others. First it had been with 10K, one of the blends noticing that the sniper wasn't able to make an easy shot. 10K hadn't responded, other than throwing a nervous glance towards Warren, before taking the shot and sniping the human he had been 'missing'.

 

The blend backed off, but kept his eye on 10K from there. That is until the battle grew and his attention was redirected otherwise.

 

Addy had been next, when she had purposely shot a blend from behind, and her paired blend noticed. Warren could say for the first time that she was lucky for Murphy's mental link call-- that being the only thing that had saved Addy. The blend had stopped to go free Murphy from the Risen, but one of the Risen members had shot the blend in the heart the second they stood-- leaving Addy without a partner.

 

From this, she headed over to where 10K was (whose partner had rushed over to help a blend bleeding out behind Warren), dodging gunfire that was aimed towards her.

 

The only thing that worried Warren was this-- Murphy was captured. In the Risen's hands.

 

She worried that they might do something inhumane to him, and as angry as she was, she didn't wish for torture or death. She never did, and the fact that the Risen had him brought those alarms to mind.

 

But there was another thing. If the Risen got Murphy, why were they still attacking? They got their prize. Maybe it was to keep the blends from going after him? There was some underlining plan to all of this, and despite not knowing it, she'd be one to help. For the good, that is.

 

It wasn't long before another mayday message of Murphy's was spoken through the mental link, leaving Warren to feel at least somewhat content to the news.

 

At least they hadn't killed him. She wanted to be freed but not like that.

 

The Risen hadn't been using anything but guns up until this point, but to her surprise, grenades were thrown their way. The explosions didn't quite make it to the back, but the fires started to fog her vision and the racketing booms and screams filled her ears. As much as she didn't like taking out the Risen, she motioned the group to take out those with bombs.

 

10K had been able to snipe one, Doc getting another close by, and she was able to kill one farther back; however despite their efforts, more bombs were thrown their way.

 

"I'm almost 60 years old! Can't this world give me a damn break for once?!" She heard Doc's stressed pleads as he stopped firing his weapon for a moment. After his little cooldown break, he rose up again only to be hit in the face with a leg.

 

Warren held back a laugh (It wasn't funny…really, it wasn't) as she monitored Nancy, the blend beside him. She seemed slightly out of it, the look a blend had when Murphy was looking through their eyes. It wasn't a moment after the leg hit Doc's face before Nancy was shot through the skull and blood covered Doc's face.

 

"Guess not!" Warren called, sending an apologetic look his way as he wiped Nancy's blood off of his face.

 

Warren ducked back down as more shots were fired at her. She, in return, shot five bullets but purposely hit a few Risen member with three. Not where it could kill them, but where it could injure them enough to fall down.

 

To her shots, a rapid fire of bullets were meant her way, startling her a bit as they lodged into the thick cement wall.

 

"They got machine guns now? C'mon!" Addy yelled, taking a shot from the side rather than shooting from above. The machine gun fired back towards where her and 10K were, causing both to duck for cover.

 

The charade continued like that, shot fired--shot missed-- and then returned with rapid fire. None of them could get the member on the machine gun off, and more Risen members started to come their way. Like the attack was planned to grow near the center.

 

She thought Felix said they weren't supposed to attack this way? That only a few of them were supposed to be here? It looked as if a whole army had decided to attack, and they didn't have enough blends to help hold them off.

 

Warren wouldn't disagree that they had been killing some of the blends to help the Risen, so the lack was partly their fault, but they had been doing so to help the few Risen advance, not to allow a whole army to start to make their way through with an exuberant amount of destruction.

Screams of children, women, and babies meant her ears, distracting her momentarily as she looked off to her left side. Through an alleyway, she could see a few Risen members holding a woman by her hair-- another hand around her throat-- as a wailing baby was pried from her hands, and a child was thrown to the ground in front of his mother. The mother was begging through choked breaths to let them go; the child racing towards his mother to help her get free. From the act, the Risen soldier shot the child, before doing the same to the wailing, cursing mother and her baby.

The whole scene infuriated Warren as she moved to shoot the Risen who had done so. She took the one down easily, before the other noticed and hid-- firing at her. Doc noticed the gun fire from the other side, taking aim and helping her kill the Risen who had been after her.

But the act caused Doc to be in a vulnerable spot, his head barely above cover before a shot rang above the rest. She turned around in the exact moment to thank him, only to see the bullet rip through his skull from the side, causing him to fall sideways and against the trash container.

 

"Doc!" She yelled, but it had been too late. His white hair soaking in the blood from the wound, as his head hit the dirt. His eyes lifeless and far off, eyelids open never to close again.

Her breath caught in her throat, as Addy and 10K turned their attention to what had just occurred. Without thinking, she and they got up from where they were before the machine gun fired again, prohibiting them from making their way over to their dead friend…to Doc.

 

She was seething and she didn't miss how the others were too. They wouldn't cry, not now, but they were far passed the point of angered. It was almost as if her thoughts were gone, and her actions took over (not by Murphy though) as she got up once more and took aim.

 

She forgot about the machine gun-- she didn't care. She pulled the trigger to any blend or Risen close, and somehow, in her, 10K and Addy's raged attack, the machine gun fire stopped.

 

The battle however, continued all the more further.

 

Addy went up to fire again, before another shot ripped through the air and hit her shoulder. She cried out in pain, hand dropping her gun as she reached for the wound, but her movements were slow, both to seek cover and grab her shoulder, as another bullet sliced through the air and lodged into her head.

 

"Addy!"

 

Her lifeless body fell to the ground, hair falling out of her face to reveal her eyepatch and the wound, blood seeping out as it dripped down the side of her forehead and down her face. 10K rushed beside her, but Warren wasn't able to tell whether he was trying to shake her back to life or mourning over her.

 

All she was seeing was red.

 

They were helping the Risen! They tried to help, and what they got in return was their family getting killed; was innocents being murdered in the streets-- children and babies. What they got was Addy and Doc, dead right beside them-- their lifeless bodies so still and limp, never to move with or without their control again.

 

They were free, but they were dead.

 

Warren wasn't sure if she was breathing, but she knew she was frozen. That the anger and rage was piling up against the grief and she couldn't make of what to do through it. She saw 10K look up at her, twitching with anger as both of their breaths came out erratic.

 

To think that Addy and Doc were dead by the people they were trying to help.

 

She could feel her own face pull up in anger, nostrils flaring as she yelled over to 10K, her voice somehow deadly low through it. "Kill them from where you are."

 

The man who had killed near close to 10,000 zombies, and more humans than she'd like to know nodded back towards her, listening to her command and breaking the one against Murphy's.

 

They may have been helping the Risen prior, but an ally who killed her family was quick to turn into an enemy. Javier had been no exception, and neither were these strangers in the Risen.

 

Warren and 10K took their shots, careful but deadly in each kill they took. No bullet was spared as each one lodged into a Risen member's head, heart, chest, or any other body part that was deadly. If no one was spared for the blends, Warren would make sure the Risen received a taste of their own medicine.

 

She ignored Murphy's command to get away--she wouldn't follow. These people had killed her family, and she wouldn't let them get away with it. People die in war, but a fight still continues. Her fight was now for vengeance against the last of her family getting killed. Against the Risen who were killing innocent without a second thought.

 

"Orders to get you out of here. Get up and come on!" A voice yelled from between her and 10K. A blend already by him, while another was making his way towards her. She didn't move, and neither did 10K, the sniper ignoring the blend and continuing to snipe the Risen.

 

The blend going to get 10K became irritated, grabbing 10K by the back and lifting him from the ground. "We have to move! Now!"

 

10K tried to pull away, but the blend took ahold of his arm, pulling both of them out from the protection and back towards the buildings behind. The action caused both of them to be left out in the open momentarily, and that was just what the Risen needed.

 

A planned shot rang through the air, this time lodging into 10K's forehead. The blend holding him ducked out of the way when the shot fired, saving himself as he scurried for cover. 10K, however, fell to the ground from where he was shot, a foot or so away from Addy's body as his head faced where Doc was laying.

 

The blend after Warren had stared in shock at first, before calling to her again to get her up. "Mr. Murphy orders us to get out of dodge. Get up!" He yelled at her, but she was stuck looking at the forms of her three lifeless friends, their bodies limp and sprawled across the ground next to their weapons.

 

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This-- she couldn't even begin to process it. They were dead. Doc, Addy, 10K…they were all dead. The people who had become close to her and one another--who had grown up in this apocalyptic world together and had become a family through all the years they had been with one another.

 

They were dead.

 

"Get up now!" The blend went to grab her like the previous blend had done with 10K, however, another shot rang out and the blend after her was shot through the heart and killed on site, falling beside her feet.

 

They were all dying and her and Murphy were the only ones left…and even then, the man was being held hostage, awaiting death by the hands of the merciless Risen.

 

She was empty. She was sad and angry. Mourning and infuriated. There were too many words, but none were strong enough to describe how she felt.

 

She brought herself out of her trance, as she aimed her weapon, defying taking cover as the emotions built up in her.

 

Warren saw the Risen making their way forward through the blends, shooting them or beating them up when they were close. A pack of Risen members were kicking and punching a weaponless blend, breaking his bones and causing him to bleed. They showed no mercy and no sympathy.

 

The Risen were angry. They were vengeful and they thought that by hurting the blends, they were hurting Murphy. That each death caused pain to the man and fulfilled their sick sense of freedom. That each shot they took freed a blend, and each bullet (disregarding the blend's pain) hurt Murphy more. This was their idea of justice.

 

Torture of innocents, or armies, and of Murphy. Anything blend was killed-- no matter who they were. If they helped or if they attacked. It didn't matter their age, or if they didn't want any of it. Blends were the targets of torture and death.

 

She got out of her hiding spot, heading over to a blend being beaten by a pack of vengeful Risen soldiers. She took aim, firing at any Risen wherever she could hit.

 

She knew she wasn't going to make it. The odds weren't in her favor. She would either die with a gunshot to the head, or be tortured in hopes of hurting Murphy before she was killed without an ounce of remorse.

 

She wouldn't die like that.

 

Stop! Stop!

 

Despite Murphy's commands, she didn't falter, using what was left of her determination to kill the Risen torturing the blend, whimpering in a curled up bloody ball.

 

She had said she was tired. That she didn't have any fight left in her. She wanted to be done. To have peace. But she was thrown into another war, again and again, against her control and all of her willingness.

 

And she was done. She was tired. Warren had tried-- through ever battle and war. No matter what, she tried to get a better outcome. Some better tomorrow. But she couldn't anymore. Murphy knew she couldn't, and she wasn't going to hide it anymore.

 

The Risen noticed her firing, as they returned it towards her, shooting her in the abdomen, stomach and chest-- just as Estes had done. The blend vaccine and the cure didn't change her from being an Enhanced Talker, only amplifying the blend part of her. The bullets cut through her shirt, and even with the pain as each bullet hit her spiked, she ignored it as she trudged forward-- shooting the remaining Risen firing at her.

 

More bullets hit her as Murphy told her to stop, but she didn't listen. Not anymore. She knew the shot was coming the second her gun clicked to let her know she was out of ammo. She had fought this hard-- gotten this far, but she never had peace. Now…now she might.

 

She closed her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath just before the bullet fired and it all stopped.

 

This was the end.

 

Her end.

Notes:

"
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes again

Can you picture what will be?
So limitless and free
Desperately in need
Of some stranger's hand
In a desperate land "

The Doors: "The End."

Chapter 5: From the Top: Take Two (EDITED)

Summary:

Overview: "The perception of time is varied…What if I told you we could save them all?"

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING: Attempts at Suicide, please be cautious when reading if this sets you off.

Hope you guys liked the first part! Okay first off, I edited this FIVE times because it wouldn't put my text in bold or italics, and it was riding on my nerves to the point where I decided to try again so this story isn't a bunch of bullcrap. Thank you for being patient, and if you read this story without the proper editing, I deeply apologize. Must've been hard 'cause it was for me. Editing may be off too, because I lost all my progress on that! UGH!!!

I also want to apologize for my error in the previous chapters. Addy didn't have an eyepatch in season five, so parts of my story are invalid. Please ignore the mess-up.

Also, does anyone know how to add pictures on AO3?

End of "Season Six"-- Beginning of Season One.

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It all felt as if the weight of the world was crushing down on him. The heavy, relentless stress forcing him down but keeping him still at the same time.

 

Completely powerless.

 

Murphy felt as if he was in a void. The atmosphere dark-- soundless and empty. He just felt as if he were floating around, paralyzed in his place, with no feeling other.

 

No pain. No sadness. No grief. No nothing.

 

It was just the void consuming his every thought and feeling, and he could feel nothing else. Murphy wasn't even sure if his eyes were open anymore. He wasn't sure if he was breathing…or if he was just listening.

 

There was nothing to listen to, and from it, came a deadly silence. Murphy wanted to say he felt unsure and worried, but he didn't. He felt nothing.

 

As empty as the void he was left to die in.

 

He didn't try to move-- to feel anything at all. He just let it carry him, like he was some mindless ragdoll moved from place to place with no will of its own.

 

…Kind of like Darren…

 

There was no thoughts he could occupy himself with, and while it seemed as though he was fine to welcome the nothingness for eternity, it was all taken away.

 

It felt as if he were snapped back into reality. A soft pillowy cushion beneath him wrapped around a big leather object. The air was cool and fresh; sunshine bright as it glared into his vision. The nothingness there before was replaced with an exuberate amount of feelings all consuming him over again while the little blurb of peace was only temporary.

 

The soundless, empty space was now occupied by the chirping of birds, the sound of a running AC unit and other appliances, and cars honking and rushing to God knows where.

 

Despite the blast of all this-- Murphy only felt as if he snapped awake from a bad dream. His hair sticking to his forehead in a cold sweat, the room around him extremely hot even though it was cool, and his throat sore from all the yelling and hollering he had been doing.

 

It didn't dawn on him where he was, or even what he was lying on, as he rolled off of the chair and onto the floor-- still in a hollering fit as all the feelings came rushing back to him. The return of grief…of knowing that the team was gone-- dead, for good. Even with all the unusual noises around him, it all felt eerily silent, more-so than what he was used to.

 

The blend's thoughts that had occupied his mind so recently were silenced-- not a single pained cry or scream reaching his eardrums. It was like they had all met the fate of his group-- like they were all killed.

 

But they weren't. He knew they weren't, but yet here he was with nothing in return to know they were still alive.

 

Even their feelings had ceased, leaving him suddenly alone-- more than he had been for years. Two years of hearing voices constantly in his mind. Two years of feeling the presence of thousands. Now all of it was gone…all of it deadly silent.

 

His heart was hammering in his chest, overpowering the other sounds throughout wherever he was. He felt short of breath and parched, but he couldn't stop his hyperventilating. He didn't know how. It was all catching up to him again-- bombarding him and leaving him stranded alone in his own thoughts.

 

He couldn't feel deaths anymore. He couldn't feel their lives. He felt nothing of the others; only his own.

 

He dug his hands into the hard, wooden ground beneath him, although he would admit he didn't even know he was doing so. He was barely comprehending his surroundings. Slowly, he was able to calm himself just enough to look around at whatever hell the Risen had thrown him into.

 

It wasn't what he was expecting though. The walls were a dark grey color (completely clean), and the floors were wooden from the dining room into the living room, and switching to a cream tile in the kitchen. The whole space was small that occupied those three rooms. A short hallway was near the side of the apartment room, right next to the front door. An open window sat near the couch-- the curtains obscuring his view from anything outside.

 

It…it looked like his old apartment. Back before he was taken to jail and the zombies infested the Earth.

 

He pushed himself off the ground, mouth agape as he glanced all around the clean, tidy space. It didn't even look like it had been touched throughout the apocalypse. Twelve years in and his place still looked like it did Pre-Z. Weird…

 

He ran his hand along a cool counter mindlessly before looking down to it, the polished granite shining back at him. The whole fact of the counters and the cleanliness and the noises hadn't set him over the edge in what was going on, but as he glanced down at his hand, another hyperventilating fit struck him.

 

He jumped, backing against the wall and knocking chairs down along the way as he looked over his normal skin toned hand. Much like everything else, it was clean and normal. He wasn't red…How was he not red?

 

He barely had a second thought as he rushed to the bathroom, flicking on the lights-- revealing that there was power-- he looked in the mirror shocked.

 

His own clean-shaven face stared back at him with completely normal blue eyes. His dark brown hair gelled back against the top of his head and his skin all the same light tanned color.

 

He looked just like he did Pre-Z.

 

Murphy's breath caught in his throat as he pinched himself. The Risen had to have done something to him. None of this was real. He was dreaming. He had to be. There was no other explanation.

 

Despite his reassurances, his pinch still hurt, and everything felt real. But it couldn't be. They were making him believe this was all real when it wasn't.

 

The Risen could have put contacts on him to make his eyes blue again. They could have shaved his face and gelled his hair. They had to have put some sort of make-up on him to make his skin normal instead of red.

 

Quickly pulling up his shirt, he checked for his eight zombie bites that had haunted him for ten years. The scars had to still be there. No make-up twelve years into the apocalypse could cover those up.

 

And yet, the second he pulled up his shirt, he was meant with smooth skin-- no scars in sight. He wasn't sure if his mouth fell father to the floor as he lost his breath.

 

How was this possible?

 

He ran his free hand over his stomach, feeling for the scars that had to be covered in make-up. However, it all felt like normal, unscarred skin. Nothing at all out of the ordinary. Except, now, it all was out of the ordinary.

 

Murphy couldn't believe any of this was real. What had to Risen done to him? After they knocked him out, and after he traveled in whatever hell of a void that was-- what happened? What had they done?

 

"Alvin? I'm here." A sweet, feminine voice called down the hall as the front door opened and closed. He heard it lock as movement shuffled down the halls.

 

"What the he-" He cut himself off, dropping his shirt so it covered his stomach and slowly made his way to the bathroom door with tweezers he randomly picked up.

 

The female voice sounded exactly like his girlfriend Pre-Z…or more-so Ex-girlfriend since she had cheated on him for months before he was sent to jail. Murphy really didn't think she would have survived this long in the apocalypse. Rochelle was one of those high-maintenance girls who never touched a gun and only focused on spending unearned money. She wouldn't have lasted a day, and yet here she was.

 

The whole situation was confusing. Him now being…normal, and Rochelle entering his apartment again when she should be a zombie. Murphy thought he had seen some crazy shit in the apocalypse, and this was making its way up there.

 

He crept out the bathroom door and down the small hallway, trying to stay hidden as he held the tweezers out in front of him. He peeked around the corner, seeing Rochelle looking through his mail. Her dark jet-black hair tied in a braid with tiny strands falling in her face. Her entirely too red lipstick sticking out like a sore thumb against her heavily put on make-up for the day. She was wearing a wool pink sweater matched with grey galaxy pants. Not like the impractical clothes he had put Cassandra in, but still not something you would see someone wear this far into the zombie apocalypse.

 

He took another step forward, trying to be quiet but the creaking of a floorboard gave away his location as she turned towards him. His hand still raised as if the tweezer were a knife as he tried to hide behind the corner.

 

"Alvin!" She noticed the tweezers raised in his hands as she dropped the mail on the counter and cautiously looked at him. "What are you doing?"

 

God, it sounded just like her. From the way Rochelle acted to how she talked. The Risen really went all out with whatever they were doing.

 

He couldn't help himself as he laughed, dropping the tweezers to the floor and running a hand across his forehead. "They really did send me to hell, didn't they?" He knew he probably sounded insane to her, but what did it matter? She wasn't real. None of it was. It was just some trick the Risen had up their sleeve to torture him even more.

 

First his group getting killed. Probably thousands of blends too, that he couldn't feel anymore. And now they're putting him in some manipulation of reality, so he has to deal with his cheating Ex-girlfriend again? What next? They send him back to jail, or this whole scene with him and Rochelle plays over and over like some Groundhog Day bullshit?

 

"What?" She shook her head at him, mouth hanging slightly open, and Murphy could see the confusion and anger boil up inside her.

 

"I don't know!" He was going insane. "Why don't you tell me?" Murphy looked up at the ceiling, speaking to any Risen that were probably watching him suffer. "Or how about you guys, huh? You think this is funny? You decide to kill them and now you send me back to--what?" He laughed again, ignoring Rochelle's stares. "To talk to my freakin' cheating Ex-girlfriend again? What the hell type of sick game is this to you?"

 

As he expected no answer came in reply, causing him to get even more frustrated.

 

"Cheating Ex-girlfriend?" Rochelle pounded her way up to him, glaring up at him as she yelled-- her face ashen white to him calling her that.

 

"No, I've already been through this. I'm not doing this again." He looked back up at the ceiling, throwing his arms open as he spoke. "You can't make me!" He yelled louder, as if he was hoping the Risen would hear.

 

"You're insane, Alvin!" She yelled back at him, but he barely spared her a glance as she furiously stomped over to her purse sitting next to the mail she brought in.

 

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's told me that, sweetheart." Murphy's voice turned slightly sweeter-- almost more in a mocking way as she threw a disgusted and agitated glare back at him.

 

She slammed the door, the force reverberating throughout the small apartment, as Murphy let out another disbelieving laugh. He waited by the door, watching to see if the whole scene played over again, but as minutes passed, no one came or went and all remained exactly as it was before.

 

What the hell was going on?

 

He sighed, making brash movements around the apartment-- avoiding the mirror completely and instead opting to go to the window. He pulled the blackout curtains aside the slightest bit as he peeked out from them. Before the apocalypse, he had lived in this apartment on the second floor, where it overlooked a busy road that was an offshoot of a highway. Cars would drive by daily, and although he hadn't been back in Maine for nearly twelve years, he was sure the apocalypse had litter and junk spread across the grass and pavement.

 

He expected cars to be crashed randomly along the road or in yards. He expected to see a few old zombies or starving Talkers wandering the streets. He expected to see something dreary and lifeless, much like the apocalypse made the whole world. Instead, he was met with green grass and driving cars. A few pieces of litter flowed out a trashcans, but not in the amount he thought.

 

Everything looked just like Pre-Z, but it wasn't. It couldn't be.

 

He pushed the curtains back, covering his view again from the road as he inspected his whole apartment. There had to be something wrong with it. Something different! If it was all fake (which it was) then there had to be some sign to prove it to him. He went through the whole portion of the living room and dining room table, before he ended up inspecting the counters. The mail Rochelle brought in lying dispersed across the counter from when she dropped it.

 

He picked them up, going through the letters. He threw the ones that 'weren't necessarily his' out of the way after he checked to see if there was something odd about them. Nothing was-- with the exceptions of some being sent to the wrong household-- until he got to the final letter at the bottom of the stack.

 

It was in a white envelope, but rattier than all the others. The sides were crumpled, and the white paper was more grey. There was no stamp on it, nor a mailing address. The only words on there were Mr. Murphy written in the middle of the letter in cursive.

 

Eyeing it suspiciously, he turned the letter over to see a wax stamp imprinted where the point ended. It was used with candle wax, pressed down with the design of a hand pulling itself up from dirt that other hands behind were struggling to get out of. A sunrise rose behind the hands. The whole wax seal was in red, but the symbol was well known to Murphy.

 

The Risen.

 

With a scowl on his face, he ripped the letter open, tearing the wax in half before throwing the envelope onto the floor. The letter better have some answers in it. He was beyond angry and confused to what in the world was going on. What type of hell had they sent him into? That was all he needed to know.

 

That way-- when he got out-- they could suffer the same way he is.

 

He pulled the letter out, the back of the paper blank, but the front held the same cursive writing as his name had.

 

Mr. Murphy,

 

It started and he couldn't help it as a pang of anger hit him. His blends called him "Mr. Murphy". The Risen had no right-- especially after everything they had done.

 

If you hadn't chosen the hardest route, this could have been resolved. Instead, this is your option when you were given your choice. This isn't an apology letter, as we feel no reason to.

 

They saw no reason?!? His lip curled in disgust and anger as he read on.

 

Rather, this is how your option will go. You have been sent back in time to less than a year before the apocalypse began.

 

He stopped reading, not really by his own will, but by the fact that he couldn't comprehend it. Even as he reread it over, he still couldn't exactly figure out what they were trying to tell him.

 

Sent back in time? Really? And they expected him to believe this kind of bullshit?!

 

There was no way he could be back in time. No way! Maybe they had thought that about zombies at some point, but traveling through time-- with the resources in the apocalypse? He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't!

 

However, as he looked down to his normal skin, the apartment around him, and even the sleazy ex-girlfriend Rochelle, he couldn't help but question it.

 

Another member of the Risen will be there to escort you with the members of Operation Bitemark to Sun Mei so that a cure can be developed. You will be monitored by this member and any action taken out of bounds will be punished to the extent of death.

 

Really going hard on the punishments, aren't they?

 

Throughout your transportation, you will also be one to save the members of Operation Bitemark from deaths that you know will happen. No Blends will be made and the separation from the mission (Both Operation Do-Over and Operation Bitemark) are considered to be punishable by death or other severe tactics to receive conformity.

 

Not only was he sent back in time to let Sun Mei make the cure for humanity herself, but he was sent to save his group from dying? He fully expected the Risen to have a rule about blends-- seeing as how he wasn't allowed to make them so that they could live peaceful lives, but it was fully okay when they could kill them.

 

That brought another thought into mind.

 

He had been sent back in time…back before any of the group had died and when they were living their normal lives. Warren, Doc, Addy, 10K-- they were all still alive at the moment…that is, if he were to believe that he had time traveled.

 

He didn't want to, but slowly, he started to. He couldn't help himself as the feeling of hope formed in him to know they were still alive.

 

If the idea doesn't sit right with you

 

Most of it doesn't sit right with him.

 

Then another reason will. We have knowledge that you had a daughter. One that had died during the apocolypse. By conforming to these standards of Operation Do-Over, you will be given a second chance to live a life with her. This is your second chance, Mr. Murphy, and I advise that you make the right choice with this.

 

Signed,

The Risen

 

Welcome to Operation Do-Over

 

They were bringing Lucy into this? They were holding her above his head like some kind of prize if he followed by what they said?

 

He was livid. As much as he wanted to save his daughter and his whole group, he was pissed. They were using them to get him to follow what they wanted! They were holding the idea of their lives to be saved above him-- just enough out of reach where he could be hopeful, but baited.

 

He wouldn't have that! He wasn't doing this!

 

He'd get Lucy back-- his own way. Not the Risen's. He wasn't going to conform to them. He wasn't going to listen to this one member that would be back with him to do the whole damn mission over again.

 

Nearly ten years of hell were spent with the group, and now he was being told that he had to live it all over again. Where they sent him back in his younger self's body (with all the knowledge of the future) to restart his whole life after this point.

 

 What was this? Some Hot Tub Time Machine shit?

 

 Murphy wasn't doing it again , but he didn't know how he would save them. All he knew was that he would do everything in his will power to not get to the part of being controlled by the Risen. He wouldn't put Lucy in that case-sernerio. He wasn't going to! 

 

If he never became to Savior of Humanity, then they couldn't force him down that road. If he never went to jail then he would never be given the experimental vaccine. If he never got the experimental vaccine, he would never have to go on the trek to California. He'd get Lucy along the way, but this time he wouldn't be with the vaccine.

 

If he had the knowledge, he was going to use it.

 

He was sent to jail for mail fraud, but if he stopped now, he might just have a better chance at not getting caught, and from there, he would be free to travel alone without being controlled by the Risen.

 

He'd follow his own command; not theirs. They could find a new Savoir of Humanity-- he wasn't going to do it this time. That way, if he wasn't with the group, they might have a better chance of survival, and he would make sure Lucy would grow up properly with him.

 

If they sent him back in time to play their games, then he would make sure they knew he knew how to play dirty as well.

 

-----line break----

 

It had been nearly a week after he had been forced back in time, and every day he took it like he was taking cautious steps. Murphy had forgotten what it was like to live in a functioning society. It was odd to see homeless people begging on the streets or driving cars as people sped off to work.

 

Traffic!

 

He hated that Pre-Z, and now being back to it, he hated it even more. However, as he got into his own car, he drove through the traffic of Maine every morning for the whole week.  Since he had put a stop to his mail fraud shenanigans, he wasn't worried about the police arresting him, so he figured he was free with his time before the zombies infest the world again. Instead, that plan was thrown off too, as he was ever-so-quickly reminded that he actually had a job to attend.

 

That had been weird too. He hadn't had a job (exempting Limbo and being the ruler over millions of people) for practically thirteen years. Jail had taken the first year, and the apocalypse had snatched away the rest. So, going back to his job was an unusual experience for someone who was so used to just surviving instead of thriving.

 

Well, thriving in the sense of the workforce that is.

 

Now, it was a Saturday, and he had the day to himself. And like everything else, it didn't feel right. Regardless, he chose to stock his fridge with food and slowly he would buy non-perishables, toilet paper, and all the other necessary products for when the zombie apocalypse did strike.

 

He decided to walk instead of drive, since it hadn't been every day that you could walk on a sidewalk and see living people. Most times it was zombies looking for brains.

 

Weird thing was, in the apocalypse, he had become so accustomed to surviving in a dying world, that the hope of a New World was vast but long-awaited for. Now, back in the world before it went to hell, the normalcy that he had been hoping for felt wrong. Murphy felt like an outcast walking amongst those who were in their rightful positions.

 

Because he remembered, the world wasn't what it used to be. He didn't like that.

 

Slowly, he traveled down the sidewalks-- ignoring people as he looked away from their gazes or moved out of their way. The overcrowded busy sidewalk had families or just one lonesome person jogging by themselves. Lively chatter and babies' ever-present crying were overruled by the rushing of cars and screeching of breaks.

 

Definitely a lot of sounds that he should be used to, but really wasn't at all.

 

After crossing the crosswalk (And no, he didn't jay-walk. He was trying to stay out of the crime business) he leaned against a wall outside of a little convenience store tucked between a hairstylist's parlor and a thrift store. It wasn't all too big, but it had a mini pizzeria in it, so he was satisfied.

 

The waft of the freshly baked pizza traveled out of the store, causing people around mouths to water. Murphy enjoyed the smell for the time being as a vibration was felt from his pocket with a little ding to it. Swiftly, he retrieved his phone from his pocket, looking at the text message that popped up.

 

One of his co-workers who had been helping with his mail fraud scheme was asking why he stopped. He rolled his eyes and ignored it, shoving his phone back into his front pocket like it was all well and normal.

 

Well, to most people it would be normal-- but Murphy? He wasn't used to it.

 

Nearly everyone in Altura had a phone-- surprisingly enough-- and even when he asked, no one would give him an answer in reply. He had never gotten a phone, solely because of the members of Hackerville. Murphy didn't want any of them snooping in on his business (which he knew full well that they did) and even in Toivo he hadn't used or got a phone. He didn't trust it. Especially when those members of Hackerville hadn't gotten vaccinated-- no matter the amount of negotiating he had done with them. Although, they hadn't joined the Risen either. More-so they stayed on the sidelines, watching the war unfold and twiddling their thumbs while they blew up drones and ate any snacks they had.

 

People on the streets shoved past him as he relaxed, leaned up agaisnt the wall. Despite the loud chattering, honking of car horns, and idiot people, Murphy was able to enjoy a day in the world being human and not getting eaten by a zombie at the same time. Almost as if he was finally surrounded by normal, civilized people.

 

"The end is nigh! You are all going to die!"

 

Or maybe not.

 

He cracked an eye open as he looked over to an older looking man with grey hair standing on a bench with a homemade cardboard sign. He was yelling at the top of his lungs about ' the end of the world' and how ' the human race is doomed'.

 

Now Murphy had heard and seen people like him on the streets preaching about a random subject. How global warming was going to kill the planet in the next year or how someone had heard from another in outer space that a meteor was coming to destroy the Northern Hemisphere and cause a massive Tsunami in the Southern.  He knew all those people were crazy to some point, but he always listened from afar when someone would say the end is coming.

 

Just to see if they were right with their assumptions.

 

Two younger kids (One in his late teens while the other was a preteen) were making fun of the man, as an older couple dropped a couple cents at the old man's feet. Two other ladies walked up to the man, one speaking calmly while the other was holding back a laugh.

 

"Excuse me, sir." He redirected his attention to the calm lady, jumping off the bench and grabbing her by the shoulders like a crazy person.

 

"Yes, ma'am! Listen to me, you are in danger. Severe danger. If you listen to me, you just might survive." He spoke rapidly, shaking the lady as she tried to pull away from the old man with her friend's help.

 

"No…I just-" She was able to break free, her friend protecting her as the calm lady asked her question. "I was just wondering if you were doing this for a play?"

 

"A play?" The crazy, old man laughed, throwing his arms out wide. "A play?!?" He yelled again, more frantic and astonished as he looked over the two ladies. "This isn't some play! This is real life."

 

 The old man looked out amongst the people who had started to record and video tape him. "Listen to me, all you people. The end of the world is coming! A Zombie Apocalypse will rage throughout the world and will kill all of you. But I have knowledge in how to go about it! If you listen to me, you may have a chance of living!"

 

And while some crazy people thought the world was going to end by a meteor, this man got lucky. He just happened to be crazy and right at the same time.

 

The Risen had said that Murphy and another person where the only two to remember, so unless this man was the other person-- he didn't actually remember the future and the zombies. Murphy knew that, so he only rolled his eyes and headed into the store to buy his supplies.

 

He quickly finished shopping, gathering his new belongings in hand and rushing past the crazy man who was making a huge commotion in the street. Murphy was able to skirt around it, heading back to his apartment and closing the door behind him. He set the groceries down, but paid no mind to cleaning them up as a knock was heard at his door not a second after.

 

Had someone been following him?

 

He crept over to the door, looking through the peephole only to see cops at his door. He jumped back, trying to be quiet as he looked around frantically. Why were they after him? He stopped, so why were they here?

 

They knocked again, speaking this time to tell him to open the door. If they had been following him, they would have known that he was in his apartment, leaving him trapped and unable to pretend that he wasn't there. Without an option to play it off, he opened the door to the officers outside.

 

"Hello, Officers. Lovely day today, isn't it?" He tried to act normal, playing it off as if he had no idea why they were at his door.

 

"Put your hands on your head." The one Officer commanded, and Murphy complied knowing all too well what happened the last time he didn't.

 

 "You are under arrest for the act of committing postal fraud. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?" The Officer spoke again and it sounded so weird to Murphy to go through this situation all over again. Like Deja-vu and he did not enjoy it.

 

Especially now.

 

"Actually, yeah I do." It probably wasn't the right time to be overly confident, but given the situation and opportunity, Murphy tended to take it. "I think you got the wrong guy." Murphy spoke, being led out to the police vehicle and set in the back seat dividing him from the front.

 

The Officers didn't even answer him back as they got in-- driving him right back to the hell he was trying to stay out of.

 

---- line break ----

 

He hated the court. He hated prison. Right now, Murphy really hated his life. That he had to do all over again.

 

Murphy really hated the Risen. If it wasn't for them, he wouldn't be back in the small cell-- taking away from his life again and put in prison the year the apocalypse was about to begin. He was beyond pissed and had been since he was put back in prison.

 

That had been nearly ten months ago and the whole time he had reveled in his own hatred and plotting. He didn't know how he ended back up here when he did change the outcome. Murphy didn't believe in fate-- not anymore. If it were fate that led him back to this prison cell and back down this route, then what was the point of time travel after all?

 

If you couldn't change the outcome of a situation-- no matter what you tried-- why would it matter? If fate were real, wouldn't that mean that he would just end up as the Ruler of the Blend World in twelve years no matter anyone's efforts? Wouldn't the group just end up dying anyway-- somewhere down the road whether he saved them or not?

 

If fate were real, then this whole Mission Do-Over-- or whatever it was called-- was pointless. So, he didn't think it was fate that brought him back here; he wouldn't believe it. Yet, here he was and it led him further down the rabbit hole of why's. Had he been set up? Was it because he only changed it at that moment that his previous scams and crimes hadn't went unnoticed anyway? He didn't have the answer and the whole thing was riding on his nerves.

 

Regardless, he was back at prison, and Murphy knew the day of the Zombie Apocalypse was close. It had to be. Months on end of waiting were leading him to this point. He knew the date of when the apocalypse began; November 9th, 2016. Today had to be close to that date.

 

He figured the best way to gain this knowledge of what the day was, was to ask.

 

"Hey. Hey, you." He called to a guard who had been monitoring outside the cells. It just so happened that the guard he was calling was one he had gained a major dislike for.

 

"What?" The guard-- Walker-- asked with a thick, gravelly voice.

 

"Yeah, hey. Listen, what's the date today?" Murphy tried to come off as pleasing, trying to not be as rude as usual as he talked to the man.

 

"One day closer to your freedom." The man answered back. Way to give a smart answer. He didn't miss this, that was for sure.

 

"I mean it. What's the date?" The day felt eerily similar, but most times, the days all blended together, so he wasn't really sure.

 

Walker groaned lowly, rolling his eyes as he looked away. "Hey! We were talking." Murphy called when Walker started to head off.

 

"November 9th, Mr. Murphy. That good enough for you?"  Walker answered with a slight bite and irritancy.

 

Or today was the day the Apocalypse began…Great.

 

Murphy nodded his head, Walker heading off again, as Murphy sat back on the bottom bed of his cell. Today is the day that the world went to hell. This time, it was again for him.

 

Shit.

 

It wasn't too long after that, that he was taken about to do his daily chores, meal, and then taken outside-- right back to where he saw his first zombie. A shiver crept up his spine as he sat at the table with the two other prisoners as the guards stood around the perimeter fence. The whole day he had been blanked out, and even when the two men had offered to play, he had agreed, but was out of it most of the time.

 

Which meant he had been losing most of his cigarettes in his gambling.

 

"C'mon, Murphy. Use to be so good at this. Finally lose all those cards up your sleeve?" Fuentes asked.

 

It snapped Murphy back into reality as he looked at the man, then his cards, and the pile of cigarettes he had lost already. "No, just…" He tried to come up with an excuse. "Not on my A-game today." He trailed off, folding his cards into the middle as Nazarian began to shuffle the deck.

 

They each threw in a cigarette, the game starting over again as the same bald headed black man stocked up to the table. God, it was so weird to know this is going to happen and then the whole scene play over again like someone hit the rewind button. Murphy remembered the whole thing as clear as day though.

 

"This a private game?" The man asked, nearing the table beside Fuentes.

 

Murphy had gone over the day again and again. Both in the apocalypse and only a few days ago. He basically remembers what he had said and done throughout it, so he opted the safest route and chose to do and say most things he had done prior.

 

"It's prison. Nothing's private." Murphy shrugged. "I'm Murphy. This is Nazarian-" He motioned to the man beside him. "-and Fuentes." He finished as he pointed to the man with tattoos in front of him.

 

"Urwin." The man introduced, just as Murphy remembered. "What are we playing?" His voice was deep and gruff, but curious at the same time.

 

"Draw poker." Murphy drawled out as Nazarian dealt the cards out. Despite knowing the answer, he opted to ask Urwin just for the sake if he accidently brought it up. "What are you in for, Urwin?"

 

Urwin looked down at his dealt cards before answering. "Conspiracy to distribute."

 

Murphy hummed, gathering the cards that Nazarian gave him, and almost mindlessly answering the same as he had done before. "You and Nazarian should have plenty to talk about. I think he used to be a customer of yours."

 

Murphy nodded over to Nazarian who gave a toothy (regardless of missing his two front teeth) grin in return. Urwin just looked at him as he looked back to Murphy-- who at this point, already knew what was coming next.

 

"I'm also awaiting trial for attempted murder." Whether Urwin brought it up to sound more threating or not, it barely had a faze on Murphy as he nodded, shuffling his hand of cards.

 

"Sure at some point, some of us tend to be." Murphy agreed this time, seeming to shock Urwin at his collective calmness to being around a supposed murder.

 

"I think I'll beat that though." He sounded slightly unsure now-- much different than he acted last time to Murphy's retort. "What about you?" Urwin asked, and Murphy assumed the man thought if he was so comfortable around supposed murders, then he could possibly be one himself.

 

Or psychopath. Not that he was either…well, in most senses.

 

Murphy clicked his tongue, opting to answer about his mail fraud acts. "I'm an entrepreneur whose company under preformed due to market conditions beyond my control. Tried to stop before they caught my lead.  Feds called it postal fraud." Murphy shrugged, looking back down to his cards.

 

He went to elaborate more, deciding to vent out his problems by (unknowingly to them) tell Urwin about being an entrepreneur and ruler of the blends only to get punished and sent back in time. Not that he would word it that way, but he wasn't able to get it out before Urwin interrupted him.

 

"So how do I know this game is honest?" Out of all the things in prison to be worried about. Urwin looked around the table at Nazarian and Fuentes, suspiciously.

 

"Probably isn't. Just assume that it is not, and the rest is left to the same." Urwin's face to the news didn't really change other than becoming displeased, so Murphy added. "Don't worry. You'll do fine."

 

Urwin still wasn't happy as he shook his head and picked up his cards. Nazarian was first to back out, dropping his cards in the middle. Urwin pulled out a box from his pocket, setting it on the table along with the cigarettes.

 

"Half a pack of menthols." He said as Fuentes folded in.

 

Although his mind was elsewhere, looking amongst the prisoners to see when the first zombie would arise-- he kept half his focus on the game-- hoping to at least keep one cigarette on him for the long journey ahead.

 

"Dealer takes one." Murphy voiced aloud as he grabbed another card, shoving it into his hand and looking back to the prisoners.

 

Any time now. Someone's going to get stabbed, turned, and then all hell is going to break loose.

 

"Too rich for blood, huh homies. What about you, Murphy? You in?" Urwin asked, but Murphy was too out of mind to notice that he was being spoken to as he watched a prisoner who seemed dead set on a mission.

 

"Murphy?" Urwin asked again, not really concerned but more-so annoyed at his lack of response.

 

"Huh?" Despite remembering the day clearly, his brain forgot the tidbit of minor information asked.

 

"I said, ' Are you going to play or fold?' " Urwin cleared, glancing back to whatever Murphy had been looking at before returning his attention back to the game.

 

"Um…" He glanced down at his cards, his king, two jacks, and two tens glaring back at him. Different dealer; same cards. Last time he folded and pissed Urwin off by the act. This time, he knew it really didn't matter what he did. Whether or not he played didn't even play an effect because the prisoner on a mission was near complete with his goal.

 

"I got nothing. Sorry." He chose the same route as last time, folding his cards into the deck, managing to anger Urwin.

 

"But you only took one card. Why are you folding now?" Urwin questioned. "I want to see those cards." He demanded as the guards behind started to run after the one prisoner. Murphy saw this as his chance of escape, so he got up from the table (not even bothering to grab his cards) as he picked up some cigarettes he thought was his and started to head to the borderline where he wouldn't get caught up in the calamity.

 

Instead of standing like a deer in headlights this time, he crept his way along the running guards and prisoners as the man stabbed fell to the ground-- bleeding out. Walker started to head over to the prisoner, pushing the others out of the way as the stabbed prisoner started to gurgle and shake to life.

 

The first zombie.

 

His skin was already a greenish blue, as blood spewed out of his mouth and his lifeless eyes snapped open. Walker knelt down beside him only to be grabbed by the zombie-- getting his chest eaten instead of helping. His pained and surprised screams echoed throughout the field as the other prisoners ran rampant and more guards headed over to the two newly made zombies.

 

Same as last time, they left the gate open, so Murphy took the opportunity and ran towards it. Urwin followed behind as the one prisoner zombie ran their way. Murphy was quick to the gate as Urwin called after him.

 

"Hey, Murphy. Murphy!"

 

He was on the other side of the gate before Urwin could call his name a second time. Slowly, he was about to close the gate before his mind told him otherwise. Last time, he had gotten captured quickly by the police and taken straight back to jail. If he let Urwin through with him this time, the two of them might have a better chance of not getting captured-- as well as survival against the zombies.

 

With the decision in mind, he held the gate open for Urwin, allowing the man through before shutting and locking it on the one zombie who pounded at the fence. Urwin took a breath once in the safe zone as the prisoners on the other end of the fence shouted and ran away from the zombies. The other prisoner who he hadn't been let through getting eaten right by his and Urwin's feet.

 

"What the hell are those?!" Once regaining his breath, he nearly shouted at Murphy in a panic.

 

At least he could have said thank you.

 

"Zombies." He grabbed Urwin by the back of his prison jumpsuit, pulling him to the woods. "Let's go."

 

Urwin followed, dashing through the woods with Murphy and away from the outbreak. "Zombies? They aren't real."

 

"Thought that too, but that doesn't help, does it?" Given, Murphy had thought that years ago, but all the same and he couldn't really tell Urwin that. "We got to get out of here."

 

Murphy looked around him, motioning Urwin to follow him Northwest. Last time he had run frantically through the woods-- no direction necessarily in mind and was easily captured again. He wasn't sure which ways he headed, but he hoped that this was the golden ticket way.

 

They had only managed to get about ten minutes away before the guards caught up to them-- weapons raised as they surrounded them.

 

"Put your hands in the air!" One of them called-- Murphy and Urwin complying.

 

"Shit." Guess Northwest was not the right direction to take after all.

 

The guards started to close in as Murphy tried to look around for an escape route. He knew where this was heading afterwards, and he didn't want that to happen. He wasn't going to do that again.

 

His luck ran thin though, as the guards closed in on the two of them, cuffing their hands behind their backs. Murphy was first, and he didn't resist but a little, still desperately trying to come up with a plan. However, Urwin was the exact opposite. He was quick to knock the guards down, releasing himself from the cuffs and fighting his way out.

 

"Hey, wait!" Murphy called as Urwin started to get free, avoiding gunshots and guards alike.

 

"Sorry, Murphy." He apologized, although it didn't even sound like one as he ran out into the woods, a couple uninjured guards heading after him.

 

And this is why he didn't help people.

 

"After him-- get him!" One Officer called to the others, as the ones that stayed behind roughly detained Murphy, so he had no other option of escape like Urwin had had.

 

The first time around, he had left Urwin to die. This time, he saved Urwin, but the man left him to be taken back to prison.

 

Murphy sighed as the guards shoved him back to the prison, the chaotic outburst slowly being detained as the prisoner and guard zombies were being shot at-- only a few being killed at a time.

 

Karma is a cruel mistress.

 

---- line break---

 

The zombie apocalypse couldn't have gone by slower. Despite his attempts at breaking free, he hadn't been able to escape the prison at any point for the past two years of the apocalypse. Prisoners had been transported in and out-- to other prisons, laboratories, or even the worst ones were used as bait. The apocalypse held no limits to what you could do to another human being.

 

Murphy had been transported twice-- and now he had ended up here-- at Portsmouth Naval Prison in Kittery, Maine. Or at least, what was left of Kittery.

 

He had spent nearly the whole first year locked in the prison cell-- getting fed rarely and not really being taken care of as the guards left to take care of the problem outside of the prison. Most prisoners had turned during those day-- mostly at the peak of Black Summer a few months into the apocalypse.

 

Murphy was able to survive though-- much like last time but with a greater extent of knowledge. His prison cell mate had been taken before the man turned, and Murphy had only assumed that it was to testing. Just like they had done to him. (Or will do to him) Although, this had been only a year into the apocalypse, so with the scientists limited knowledge, Murphy knew the man had been killed.

 

A year after that, he was sent to a prison in Massachusetts, receiving the same treatment, but worse, and then taken to where he was now. The same prison he was tested on and died in. The same one that started the hell of a road trip he knew was coming up if he didn't prevent it.

 

The military men came down the hall-- their boots stomping loud against the ground as they made their way to his cell. They split into three groups, two heading down to the other men who had been tested on with him, and the last group heading straight for him. Their guns were raised in the case that he did anything other than comply as two of the men grabbed him by the arms.

 

He couldn't do this again! No! He couldn't!

 

It all came flashing back to him. The bites against him skin, tearing into him and killing him. The memories of Merch's face or the two men dying and turning. Being left alone in that room-- strapped to the table as he got eaten alive.

 

He couldn't go through with that again. He rather they kill him.

 

Murphy struggled against their control-- trying to break free from their grip as he threw himself to the floor and tried to head over to the door to escape. Or maybe he was heading for the gun to shoot him. He didn't know. He wasn't sure what his tactic was, he just knew that he had to get out of there.

 

It was a failed attempt though, as the men picked him up and carried him out of the room despite his screaming and struggling.

 

---line break---

Simon Cruller's POV:

 

All he could see was zombies crowding his screen. Each one moaning and limping along, others running at their prey that they threw themselves violently at. Simon didn't know what he signed up for when he read that one word. He didn't know what he was getting himself into. Well…he sort of did, but that was beside the point.

 

He had been helping track Delta-Xray-Delta for the two years of the apocalypse, but once they had headed into Maine, he had lost his contact with them. He had been monitoring the Naval Prison they were supposed to arrive at, trying to track them and the movements of the zombies that were around the place.

 

He thought he had picked them up on one of the cams, but Hammond and Valdez were too quick as zombies rushed into frame afterward. Simon assumed it was them that had made it to the prison, so with hopeful knowledge that they were still alive against the ridiculous amounts of zombies around the area, he tried to contact them again.

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta. This is Camp Northern Light. Come in." Still, he received no response, but that didn't stop him from trying again.

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta. This is Camp Northern Light. Come in." Still nothing.

 

Simon checked between the screens hoping to see some little glance of them to know they were alive, but he assumed they were already in the building, and all the working cameras were outside of it. Despite it, he held faith in trying to contact the duo, hopeful in his attempt to reach them.

 

He heard someone come up behind him, turning slightly in his swivel chair to see the man. The second his eyes locked on the man, the whole figure of him began to glitch in and out between a zombie form and back to his human form. It was only a few seconds, but any time it happened, it always threw Simon off.

 

It had been happening nearly a year before the Zombie Apocalypse started. People started to suddenly look like that, freaking him out beyond belief. However, against most of his will, he didn't tell anyone-- admittedly afraid they would look at him like he was insane.

 

It wasn't just the glitching in and out that was freaky. Every time he would see those glitches on people, they ended up dying and turning. Every single time he monitored them. The group Hammond and Valdez were in had all glitched, even the two remaining men. It was one of the reasons he was so worried when he couldn't find or contact them.

 

Everyone in the room with him glitched at some point as well-- and that left a sense of dread piling up inside him. Simon wasn't able to see what he looked like-- even in a mirror-- so whether or not he glitched into a zombie was left unknown, but if everyone here had-- he was almost positive he did too.

 

And almost was a big stretch. For the past three years, everything felt like Deja-vu. It was like he knew something was going to happen even though it hadn't and then that thing did happen afterwards. It was all a confusing scenario-- even when he was able to finish someone else's sentences. (If they were important enough)

 

He didn't…remember-- would that be the right word? He didn't think he was going to die, but he had a feeling that by the odd glitches and his 'Deja-vu' feeling that the others didn't make it.

 

"Cruller?" The man asked harsher this time, addressing Simon and pulling him out of his daze.

 

"Sir?" He snapped back into reality, asking for the given information that he missed.

 

Despite the man seeming annoyed, he asked again. "Why haven't they evacuated?"

 

"The extraction team is still in route. Their initial landing site was overrun." Which only complicated matters farther. "And I can't get anyone from Delta-Xray on the radio." God, he hoped Hammond and Valdez hadn't turned.

 

The news was still shocking and worrisome to the man, as he looked over at the camera showing the monstrous beasts attack their prey like the predator's you use to watch on National Geographic. Except now, a virus turned humans into zombies and there was no National Geographic.

 

"Well keep trying." He commanded forcefully to Simon, sucking in a breath to both the news and the sight before looking away. He threw a few papers down on the desk beside Simon.

 

"Here are the new destination coordinates. Two more minutes and they're on their own." The man deduced, turning to Simon. "We evac as soon as the plane's loaded. Keep everything hot." He instructed once more. "Who knows, we might make it back someday." He turned to the screen one more time before speed-walking away.

 

"Two minutes." He reminded. "Move it people! Come on Hernandez! Out of there! Let's go!"

 

Not too much time left.

 

He needed to contact them and get them out of there. He turned back to the screen with the new coordinates beside him.

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta. This is Camp Northern Light. Come in." He repeated for the third time, looking between each screen to see if he could find them.

 

Still nothing in reply.

 

"Delta- Xray-Delta. Come in." He only had two minutes. Please just get through!

 

"This is Delta-Xray-Delta! Who the hell are you?" A static yelling voice came through utterly frantic, but it still gave Simon a leap of joy to hear Hammond.

 

He may know Hammond, being assigned to watch after the group and all, but he hadn't communicated that much with the man and his team. It was usually the others who did so, so he wasn't surprised at Hammond not recognizing who it was. Especially since they had been off contact with Camp Northern Light for nearly more than a week.

 

"This is Simon Cruller, sir. I'm a Sys Op working for the NSA. Camp Northern Light." Simon spoke rapidly, trying to get to them as quick as possible since the time was running down quickly. "I have new orders for you from Cent. Com."

 

"Little busy right now." Hammond replied sarcastically in his panic.

 

"Yes, sir. " Times almost up.

 

Simon glanced behind him, checking to see if any of the team were still there. He had to move before they left him behind, but he couldn't just leave Hammond and Valdez without proper instructions or anything other.

 

"We're about to bug out ourselves so I'll get right to it. I have GPS coordinates for your new destination. It's the CDC Mass Infection Lab on Mount Wilson. You're to escort Doctor Merch and any other survivors to this location. It's Priority Level One!" Simon read off the note, trying to get the information to Hammond as quickly as he could.

 

"Hey! Hey! Are you sure?! These coordinates are in California!" Hammond asked back, and Simon could understand why he thought it was misinformation.

 

From Maine to California? That was a dead-man's mission, and yet it was the one Simon was assigned to give Hammond and Valdez.

 

"That's a roger, sir." Simon confirmed.

 

"Where's my chopper?" He asked even more panicked than he was already.

 

Guess it's time to let in some even worse news to the already dangerous and outrageous situation. "I'm showing that it's still inbound, sir." Less than two minutes remained. "But don't worry, Delta-Xray, I'm not going anywhere. "

 

He might not make it on the plane, but he couldn't abandon the team this early. Especially since he knew he was going to die at some point like all the others at the NSA. At least he was going to die doing something hopefully worthwhile.

 

"You get us the hell out of here! You hear me?!" Hammond yelled louder over the zombies' snarls and growls, nearly in a full-blown panic at the overabundance of bad news and a worse situation.

 

Simon sucked in a deep breath, looking over his screens. He'd try to get them out, but with the situation already looking bad, (for all of them) he wasn't sure how much he would be able to do.

 

--- line break---

Murphy's POV:

 

It felt like an endless journey as they carried him through the halls, and despite his thrashing against them, it did no justice for him. A few zombies littered the halls-- too slow and easily taken out by the Army soldiers leading them to the testing room.

 

Once there, they knocked on the door, carrying him in. At this point, Murphy had stopped trying to break free-- finding it was useless. That didn't stop him from trying to not get vaccinated with the original vaccine though.

 

"Put me on the first table! I can't-- Let me be first!" He didn't like begging, but he wasn't going to go through with this again. He told himself he wouldn't, and he planned on following through with it. The Risen can't control him if he's already dead. He couldn't go through hell if he already put himself there.

 

To his relief, they listened, setting him on the first table that the older looking prisoner had previously been on. At this point, Murphy didn't struggle. This was how it would end for him. He'd start to shake, then turn, and it would all be over. The group had gotten their deaths, so why couldn't he?

 

He wasn't going through this apocalypse and following the Risen's sick game when they weren't even here. He tried. Tried to stop all this from happening and get to his daughter, but he couldn't. It was like the world wouldn't let him. Fate or not, he was on this path, but if he had a final say, he was going to do something about this.

 

He tried to escape twice. Once from going to jail and the other trying to get away from it. This time, he'd make sure it stopped. If he was dead, there couldn't be a second option. Death had been the only way for the man on the first table, and it would be his only way as well.

 

The soldiers tied him to the table, and Murphy would admit that it brought memories back to when he had done so with Darren. He hadn't wanted to, but he was left without a choice. This whole scene of treating people like lab rats just because they committed acts of crime sparked the memory of him testing on someone who remained a danger to a possible and hopeful thriving society.

 

The other two prisoners had been brought into the room at this point, each struggling against the Army soldiers as they were detained and locked down on the table. Both were yelling and Murphy only acknowledged them as he turned his head-- which he had intensely been focusing on the ceiling for some time now as he awaited his death.

 

The two prisoners didn't pay him any mind, struggling and spitting curses at those in the room, but one person in particular did pay attention to him.

 

Dr. Merch.

 

He didn't remember her throwing glances at him the whole time, but what did he know when he had been fearing for his life last time? She kept her focus on him, moving around the room carefully and readying the test injection that would kill two out of the three of them.

 

The last one was the unlucky bastard.

 

Most of the other soldiers left at this point to clear a safe evac path, leaving Merch and a few doctors in the room. Once the room was cleared, Merch dropped her focus on him and headed around the room like a mad woman getting everything she needed ready.

 

It was incredibly odd to see her alive again. Murphy thought he had gotten used to it but watching as her black hair tied back bounced with every running step she took, he couldn't help but be reminded of the blend woman with graying hair that killed herself in a zombie pit. She was dead, but time travel screwed up the way of life, bringing her back with no recollection of it.

 

It wasn't a few minutes after, the chaos intensifying even more as the prisoners struggled and the zombies' gurgles could be heard, that there were three quick knocks on the door. Merch rushed over, opening it up to welcome a distressed looking Hammond in with his gun raised in fear of danger.

 

Murphy was prepared and unprepared all at the same time. Hammond looked similar to how he always looked before he had been killed by the Devil of a baby zombie, but without the scar that marked across his face. He gave no attention to Murphy or any of the other prisoners for the first few seconds and the chaos erupted back in the room.

 

"We don't have time for this." Hammond's voiced-- as calm as he could be for the time being, but forceful with command.

 

Merch ran over to Murphy, preparing his arm for the injection-- avoiding looking him in the eyes as she yelled back to Hammond.

 

 "We can't stop yet! This is our last chance to test the new strains. We won't get another chance if we leave now!"

 

She ran back to the counter, grabbing another whatever it was that she needed as a prisoner at the far side yelled.

 

"No!" The prisoner's voice was full of fear as the two doctors latched him securely to the table.

 

"They don't look like volunteers to me."  Hammond stated cautiously, looking between Murphy and the other two men, before returning his gaze to Merch.

 

"You think?" Murphy asked, picking his head up slightly so he could look Hammond in the eyes.

 

Orange jumpsuits and being tied down. A volunteer would get nicer accommodations for risking their lives to save others.

 

"Millions of people are dying for no reason. These men are gonna die to help us find a vaccine." So contradicting.  Guess that's what you get with people who worked to get a vaccine to the rich before those who had actually lived through the apocalypse.

 

"If it works, " Merch continued, finishing up on Murphy's arm, "One of them may outlive us all." Wasn't going to be him this time.

 

Murphy remembered what he said last time-- asking why she didn't decide to take it if that were the case, but he held back knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere to repeat when nothing would come of it. Merch was too high and mighty to risk her life for others. She'd only commit suicide when it didn't seem fit to her.

 

Sort of like Murphy was doing now, but he had better reasons than Merch did.

 

"God! Please don't do this to me. I'm innocent, I swear! Don't let me turn- Please don't do this to me!" The prisoner in the middle of him and the other occupying his old space pleaded, banging his head against the back of the table and struggling to break out.

 

"Don’t worry. If worse comes to worse, I'll be there to provide you mercy first." Hammond reassured, but it didn't come with much assurance.

 

"No! Please, just let me out!"

 

The prisoner's cries were left unheard and unacknowledged as Merch hastily read off her notes. Everyone in the room on edge and frightened at the lurking threat just beyond the door.

 

"In accordance with the Emergency Executive Order section seven, ' You are hereby notified that you have been selected for exposure to an experimental substance.'"

 

Hearing it all read out again, Murphy couldn't help himself as he intruded.

 

"You do realize we're human! This isn't ethical without our consent!" They still had rights and freedoms. Just because they ended up in jail didn't mean that it was all taken away. What if they had been framed? Would they just kill them anyway?

 

 Merch disregarded him, continuing on. " ' Should the test fail, all efforts will be made to contact your next kin."

 

What the hell type kin does anyone have in the apocalypse anymore?  Or even communication to contact their living kin. Not that Murphy had any anymore, but still.

 

"' Signed President Lindsay Barton.' " Merch finished quickly.

 

"She's dead! You can't do that now! It doesn't apply!" The man who was on the opposite end of the room yelled at Merch.

 

"She wasn't dead when she signed the order. It still applies." Merch forcefully debunked, but the other two men only breathed erratically at their on awaited deaths.

 

Murphy still remained unfazed-- knowing how it would play out from here and what he was getting into.

 

A doctor came up to Murphy, holding the syringe in the hand that they would be injecting him with as they pinched his skin. And this was his death. This is where he would finally die and leave with cruel ridden Earth for a new Savior of Humanity to take his spot. Hopefully the unlucky bastard had better chances than he did.

 

Murphy wasn't proud that he was making the Risen happy in probably getting a more willing person to do the job, but he didn't care. He was out of their game now. He quit and is done playing.

 

Merch stared at him-- both expectantly and nervously as the syringe came down to his vein. "Do it! Now!" She called, tapping her finger against her side as she watched.

 

He felt the needle penetrate his skin as the deadly vaccine spread across his body. Although he was expecting to die, he couldn't help himself as he tensed up, throwing his head against the table and drawing in a deep breath.

 

His final moments.

 

That short brief period of time that he had been expecting seemed to drag on for seconds, then minutes, until nothing happened at all. Until he didn't shake. Until he didn't turn.

 

He didn't die.

 

Why the hell was he not dying? He had been put on the first table to be given the first failed vaccine. He should be dead. The guy last time had died! Why wasn't he?!

 

"Did it work?" Hammond asked, panicked as he looked over Murphy-- who, at the moment, was gazing the room in horror.

 

"I-" Merch started, nodding her head. "I don't know. Give the next one the vaccine." She instructed the doctors.

 

"No!" Murphy called, this time trying to break free from his restraints. He was not having this! It was like everything he planned changed in the exact opposite way that he was hoping for. He was supposed to die! This was supposed to kill him and it wasn't!

 

"Inject me again! Kill me! Don't let this happen-- I can't!" He felt far beyond pleading now. He wanted this horror to end. He wanted this whole hell trip he knew was coming up to not ever start.

 

Merch only spared him a glance before she turned to the man in the middle, the doctors holding him down to inject him as he screamed at them. "No! No! No!"

 

They didn't listen to him though, sticking him with the needle as the vaccine entered his bloodstream. The man's eyes rolled into the back of his head-- his struggling dying down as he started to fall limp against the table. The calmness quickly changed as he started to shake and thrash on the table-- his eyes wide and full of fear.

 

The older man in Murphy's old spot began to yell at the sight, watching as he tried to scoot away. Murphy kept watching though, his head shaking at the obscurity of it all.

 

That was supposed to happen to him. The first guy injected-- the old man in his old spot-- had done this. Not the middle guy. It was supposed to be Murphy that this happened to!

 

The middle man struggled against the restrains before again falling limp to the table with his eyes closed and the struggling gone. It was only mere seconds that everyone (besides Murphy) thought the man had died without turning Z, before he shot up in the bed-- puking blood in a projectile almost like Janice had done to Murphy what felt like so long ago… Except this time, it was all the more terrifying.

 

Hammond was quick to give the man mercy just like he said beforehand, as the older man on the end yelled and struggled to get away.

 

"Five minutes." Hammond commanded, walking to the back of the room behind Merch. "And we're out of here!"

 

Merch was quick to direct the doctors to the last man on the end, the two complying as they held him down. "Get the hell away from me! Don't touch me-- Stop it!"

 

With a nod of her head, the doctors listened to Merch's orders, injecting the last man with the vaccine. The one Murphy had thought he was given last time, which would make this man the new Savior of Humanity.

 

Except now, with Murphy still being alive, it was all the more confusing.

 

They injected it into him, the effects taking affect immediately as the man's head fell back against the table and the struggling let up. Almost as if he had smoked weed-- intoxicating him enough to calm him. He started to breathe heavily before his eyes shot opened and he started to gasp for air.

 

He started to yell violently, thrashing his head back and forth. Murphy looked away, already knowing how it played out.

 

Blood spewed from the man's mouth as he quickly shook back and forth-- his yelling becoming increasing worse as Hammond and Merch took a couple steps back-- Hammond already raising his gun. 

 

And then it all went deadly silent. The blood spewing from the man's mouth was now falling from his face-- almost as if he had been eating the side of his face as he shook. His skin that sickly greenish blue and eyes just beginning to blur. His head faced away from Murphy before he snapped up and screeched.

 

Hammond moved forward, firing off his gun straight through the man's forehead. "I give you mercy."

 

With the two prisoners dead and turned, Murphy panicked, his breathing becoming even more erratic than it had been.

 

That was the last guy. The last of the three injections and yet he was still alive. He moved positions-- he went to the first table. Murphy should be dead! His decision to move shouldn't have caused the other two men to die the opposite way of one another.

 

If they died-- that meant Murphy had gotten the cure.

 

He was the unlucky bastard.

 

"Pike me! Do it now!" Murphy yelled to Merch, sitting up as much as he could to look at her and Hammond. "Shoot me! Raise that goddamn gun and kill me!"

 

"Did it work on him?" Hammond asked, keeping his gun raised at Murphy's head, but not pulling the trigger like he begged for.

 

Where was his mercy?

 

"I don't know! Maybe it didn't work, or-" Merch started, looking over Murphy before heading over to her other vials of empty and useless substances that she had already found not to work.

 

"We don't have time for this. It's time to go." He demanded, grabbing Merch by the shoulder to move her away from the counter.

 

"No! No! No! No! Just give me mercy for crying out loud!" They still didn't listen to him, as Hammond started to unstrap Murphy from the table.

 

Hammond only got half-way through with untying him before a pounding at the door could be heard. It sounded so humanistic that it actually startled Murphy for a second.

 

"Don't open the door! Don't do it, Hammond! I swear to you." Hammond was quick to turn on a swivel to him at his name being called.

 

"How do you know my name?!" He yelled, raising his gun back to Murphy's head.

 

"Do it." Please just let Hammond pull the trigger. "Pull the trigger, please!" Murphy cried out, but Hammond hesitated, putting his gun back in the holster and heading to the door.

 

"No! Don't open it! Listen to me!"

 

Hammond didn't listen, looking through the peephole in the door.

 

"It's Valdez." He called back to Merch, ignoring Murphy as he opened the door. The second he did, Valdez turned-- his face mauled as the zombie Valdez made a grab for Hammond.

 

"Hey!" Hammond ducked out of the way, shouting as Valdez ran up to one of the male doctors standing right beside Murphy.  Hammond, with a startled and grief-filled look on his face, mercied Valdez as the blood splattered across the doctor's scrubs.

 

More zombies started to force their way through, pushing past Hammond and Merch as they ran for the two other doctors again. Hammond wasn't quick enough to give them mercy before the two doctors were bitten as well. He was finally able to mercy the two zombies as the two bitten doctors started to die on the floor beneath the dead z's.

 

Hammond grabbed Merch, who was near close to a panic attack. "You're coming with me." He said as he pulled her out the door.

 

"Wait! Don't leave me here! Get me out! Finish untying me or give me mercy, you bastard!" Murphy yelled, but to no avail Hammond only spared him a dreaded glance before rushing out with Merch.

 

"Get back here! Kill me now, or I swear to you! Don't leave me to turn!" Don't leave me to get bitten again!  His yelling went unheard as the door slammed shut behind the two and an inhuman gurgling was heard at his side.

 

He was barely able to register the zombie beside him, towering over him as the blood spewed out of the male zombie's eyes. With his free hand, Murphy was able to try and hold off the Z from devouring his chest, but the female doctor zombie rose too, feasting on his chest.

 

He screamed in pain as more zombies rushed in, each one taking part as they piled on him-- their rotting teeth digging into his flesh as their saliva and blood infiltrated into his system.

 

Murphy could only register the pain. He could only hear the incoherent gurgles and inhuman screeching. He could hear their teeth tearing into his flesh as it ripped off his body. Murphy felt a hot liquid trail down his torso and chest as a metallic smell infiltrated his nostrils. The undead's bodies piling on top of him as their rotting skin covered his face-- their arms pushing down on his face and neck-- suffocating him.

 

His own blood spewed on his face and in his mouth when their arms would let up-- not even giving Murphy a chance to breathe before it was repeated all over again.

 

He could feel organs being torn out of his body or eaten and gnawed on. He could feel it, but he didn't register it.

 

All he could do was scream in agony and pain.

 

"Help…Me!" He was able to get out through his screams. It did no justice-- not to the zombies or any living that heard as they continued to eat him alive.

 

Freakin' undead cannibals.

 

Murphy felt close to blacking out. He felt like succumbing to the pain and hoping that if he closed his eyes and entered the darkness-- that he would never wake up. He hoped that if he did, he would be left within the void that sent him back here.

 

With no pain. No suffering. No death or grief.

 

He wanted that nothingness back, but instead he got teeth ripping through his skin and zombies drinking his blood.

 

His vision became smaller and darker as everything around him became numb. The sounds felt echo like and far off, and the pain only felt like stings of hot, agonizing burns that his body was absorbing and becoming use to. He felt light-headed as he let his head fall limp against the table.

 

Murphy was barely able to register the gunshots firing off and the tearing into his flesh cease. Through his fogged thoughts, he knew what was happening, but he wasn't able to focus on it long enough to have coherent thoughts of what it was.

 

He heard Hammond talking to him, looking him over and raising the gun to his head. He wanted to let it happen. He just wanted to let Hammond shoot him, and he would be done with all of it-- yet as Hammond applied force to the zombie bites opening gashes along his chest, Murphy couldn't stop himself from yelling.

 

His eyes shot open at the sudden touch of pain, wanting to curl in on himself, but the pain of even moving was too much to do that either.

 

"You're alive? How the…" Hammond trialed off, lowering his gun as he looked over Murphy-- who only groaned in reply to respond.

 

Murphy didn't see how Hammond looked him over, or how he scanned his eyes to see if they were fogging over like how all the zombies' eyes did. As if those two were confirmation enough to know he wasn't turning Z, and the experimental vaccine had worked, he unstrapped Murphy from the table fully and sat him up against a wall.

 

"Looks like the vaccine worked." Hammond didn't wait for a reply, before he started to shove Murphy up. "Can you walk?"

 

Murphy growled in return, the pain shooting across his body as Hammond moved him. "Does it…look like I- can walk?"  Murphy forced out through clenched teeth.

 

"We got two minutes to get out of here. I best bet that you figure out how to move." Hammond instructed, looking around the room hoping to find something that could help them out.

 

They weren't going to make it in time. Murphy knew that. And they weren't going to find anything in here either. This whole elaborate scene that he had tried to get away from was playing all over again-- and his knowledge of how it went wasn't playing in his favor.

 

Murphy leaned himself back against the wall-- wincing at the action as he looked down at his eaten, demolished chest. Blood spewing out of the open wounds as his ribs and intestines showed through. The sight only seemed to make it hurt worse.

 

So much for scars of the past.

 

He huffed violently as Hammond came back to his side. "There's nothing." He looked Murphy over again, sucking in a breath as he looked over the open gashes made by the zombies. "I'm gonna have to carry you out."

 

"Just kill me now."

 

Murphy was already dead, so why not finally provide him his mercy. His heart stopped beating just a few minutes ago and he was considered dead medically. That should at least be enough to place a bullet in his head, right?

 

"Not going to happen. You may be our best chance at saving humanity."

 

If Murphy had a dollar for every time he heard that, he'd be rich.

 

Murphy sucked in a sharp breath as Hammond lowered him off the table-- supporting him by flinging Murphy's arm around Hammond's neck, and Hammond grabbing Murphy by the side. Murphy winced at it as Hammond's fingers grazed his wounds, but Hammond continued on, dragging Murphy out of the room.

 

They were barely able to make it out of the hallway and to the stairwell before zombies started to crowd their way. With his free hand-- and with terrible accuracy for the given situation-- Hammond was able to shoot the few zombies that blocked their way. The force of the gun, however, caused Murphy to wince at the force and pressure it applied back at him.

 

The stairs were the toughest to climb, but they managed to get to the top. Hammond threw open the door, hauling Murphy to the other side just in time for them to see the helicopter fly off without them.

 

"Shit." Hammond swore, his shoulders sagging nearly causing Murphy to fall flat on his face with the lack of support. Hammond caught him, bringing him back to his side as he stared down the hallway and then back towards the fleeting helicopter.

 

Guess that meant they were taking the long way again.

 

 

---line break---

Simon Cruller's POV:

 

"Air Cav- Whiskey Bravo Six, this is Northern Light. I have eyes on your approach. " Simon informed, glancing between the screens as he tried to direct the helicopter to where they needed to be.

 

He said that he would try to get Hammond and Valdez out of there, and he planned on doing so. He wasn't going to leave them behind-- just like he promised.

 

"You're right on top of them, man. Awesome flying."  With relief, he leaned back a bit. "Delta-Xray is bringing out survivors now." At least some people had made it. "Good luck, Whiskey Bravo. We're out the door ourselves. Catch you in the next life, sir. Northern Light signing off."

 

Simon was quick to take off his headset, finishing up as he rushed out of the room, nearly tripping over the swivel chair in the process. He rounded the corner, taking down the hall to try to get to his group before they left him. He made it all the way to the exit, slamming his hand against the button in his running as he made it to the rising door.

 

He pulled up his coat, the hood of it falling across his back as the freezing cold hit him.

 

The night was dark with dark clouds as the snow fell and covered the ground in a blanket. He didn't see anything other than that, but he heard it.

 

The roaring sound of airplane engines met his ears as he rushed to the door, hoping what he was hearing wasn't true. It wasn't a second after that the plane came into sight-- rushing past his view and kicking up snow beneath it.

 

Simon still ran to the exit anyways-- hoping- praying that he was seeing it incorrectly, yet as he got just right to the outside, he was able to catch the plane taking off without him, disappearing through the falling snow and thick, grey clouds.

 

He heard the altitude increase as the engines roared, but all too quickly, it started to decrease and an ill feeling was left in his stomach. His eyes widened in shock as the plane came crashing down to the ground, taking a turn right before hitting the ground and exploding upon impact.

 

The force threw Simon back, barely giving him time to duck as the snow came in like a blizzard and debris was picked up and thrown his way. His back hit the wall, knocking the wind out of him as he closed his eyes and coughed as he inhaled the debris.

 

Everyone who had been at the NSA with him were dead.

 

Just like he knew they'd be….

 

Now he was left alone at Camp Northern Light, no team; no people, and his Deja-vu and glitching looks the only thing that he had left.

 

He was alone and Delta-Xray-Delta were already handled.

 

Simon was left to watch a dying world from Camp Northern Light-- with knowledge of who would die but unable to get it out to who it was.

 

----line break----

Murphy's POV:

 

And so it began.

 

He and Hammond had been traveling for nearly a year now, and despite Murphy's attempts to break free from the man, Hammond always found a way to capture him again.

 

He hadn't realized it before, but Hammond's way of treating him was different from how the group would treat him. Hammond, although kind and gentle in certain situations, was serious in other areas. He saw Murphy as a prisoner that held the cure for humanity, and while he was, it didn't stop Hammond from looking at him as less of a person.

 

If Murphy would try to escape, Hammond didn't have a problem with tying him up to prevent it. The group had only done it once, and that had been after the nukes and after Mack had been killed. Him and Cassandra were tied together, but that had only been for a brief time before they let them free to roam beside them.

 

Hammond wasn't like that. He lacked in trust of others, although, Hammond had asked for help on some occasions. He wasn't one to actively invite people into his group unless he had some sort of trust with them.

 

They had tried that a couple of times, but each person had ended up turning on them. Hammond made it a necessity to question the person before entry-- that is, unless he had gone up to that person in need of help, them providing it, and then tagging along some of the way. Trust was gained a different way in that scenario, but all the same, Hammond trusting others was hard to come by.

 

Especially for Murphy.

 

Last time (and Murphy would admit it) he had been a coward. He had let others fight his battles, and had left those people to die when in a panic or when the situation was looking scarce in survival. It hadn't been until after Zona that he really started to fight. Learned to throw a punch and fight to kill when the time arose.

 

After he had been bitten by the zombies the first time, he hadn't been like that. He had been scared and traumatized at the fact of zombies eating him alive, and while the whole scene still haunts him at every waking and sleeping moment, but he had gotten slightly more used to it.

 

That is, used to it in the sense of boiling anger overriding his fear.

 

At times, he had gotten frightened when seeing the flesh eating monsters again, but once Hammond had gained enough trust to give him a gun, Murphy had taken that fear and anger out on the Z's.

 

If it hadn't been for the Risen's delusional thinking, he wouldn't have ended up here. If it hadn't been for them, he wouldn't have had to live through this hell again. He wouldn't have been bitten and eaten alive with his guts ripped out of his body and his gnawed-on ribs on the floor of the lab.

 

If it hadn't been for them, he would still be giving a peaceful life to blends world-wide. His group by his side living in a paradise of their own instead of on the ground with a hole in their head and more gunshots flying above them.

 

But Murphy knew that that was the past…or more-so future really. The group wasn't dead. Time travel changed that, and now they all were alive again, living through the apocalypse as the days ticked closer to when they would meet Murphy again.

 

Which would be soon. It had been nearly a year with him and Hammond traveling from place to place-- making it one step closer to California each day…sort of.

 

Hammond had been contacting Simon in trying to find transportation to California-- since any type of vehicle was hard to come by these days.

 

They had tried to find some sort of air transportation-- seeing as how Murphy hadn't seen any flying zombies recently, but that had been a no-go as well. Most times, they ended up being demolished or unusable in both physical wear and the need for gas. So, they were out of luck for flying above the zombies.

 

Which meant they had to go right through them.

 

Simon had been taking them to certain camps and military bases that were set up so they could gather supplies and team members for the travels ahead. Murphy had already been through all of it and knew how it went. One team member would die; the other would betray them. Their food supply would run out and people would starve to death in the middle of the night. Fights would ensue and chaos would erupt.

 

They were on their own now-- seeing as how the last of their members had been looking for a fight for survival against them instead of (what they thought) was a doomed mission to save humanity. One had grabbed a knife and went after Hammond with it, the other going after Murphy. Hammond was able to disarm the man for the time being, knocking his head against the wall so that he laid unconscious.

 

The man that had been after Murphy had seized the knife, trying to cut Murphy's throat with it, but Hammond had come up behind to knock the man out. Murphy had managed to move at the exact time the attack happened to hit him in the nose with the butt of the gun. The man with the knife was left untouched and sprang after Hammond the second after that.

 

The knife had cut across his face before Hammond could disarm-- and by default-- kill the man in the process. Both of them had been bleeding and in pain at that point, but they managed through with it. Murphy losing some blood out of his nostrils and Hammond earning a carved scar across his face.

 

Except, that had been new-- not at all like last time.

 

Last time, it had also been in an attack-- but not with team members out to kill both of them, and the scar this time was different than last time. This one ran along the right side of his face, grazing across his lip, to his ear, and then another mark cutting near his eye. Murphy always mused with it like it was a Y.

 

A little nickname he had called Hammond over the year, much to Hammond's dismay.

 

They were running through the halls of a military base at the moment. Like last time, Simon had promised that there were survivors and food and they were willing to help Hammond and Murphy. It wasn't necessarily a military base anymore, but a shelter for survivors. Murphy remembered that the sick had been on the second floor, the first barricaded off, the underground areas used as shelters when hordes came through, and the top sections used to house those who weren't sick and used as a vantage point of killing the zombies from up high.

 

They had to travel from rooftop to rooftop to get to the sixth-floor window-- one of the only entrances.

 

As Murphy remembered, Hammond and him had gotten there the day after a horde had killed most of their survivors-- those that were bitten walled off or thrown out the window. It left the surviving members with more injured that stayed with the sick, and less in numbers to hold up the fort.

 

They had provided food-- less than what Simon had promised, but they offered for a place to stay. Hammond had declined and asked for a transportation vehicle. They had said they had one, not something of looks, but would be able to help.

 

Murphy had told Hammond to not accept it because it wouldn't be worth it because he knew what it was. A little dingy boat that looked like it had been drawn by a three-year-old-- and then magic brought it to life. The freakin' thing even had eyes on it.

 

Hammond, of course, didn't listen to Murphy and accepted it without knowing exactly what the boat-thing actaully was. The survivor man had said that it was on the first floor-- near the left-hand-side back where it could easily float down into the water. He promised if they traveled up stream enough, they could make it to a camp in a week or less-- one camp Simon had already informed them of prior.

 

Murphy remembered that they had gotten a better boat there, but a worse meal and treatment, and had been sent on their way after that. Which had then led them to Camp Blue Sky where they had first met up with Warren and Garnett.

 

Yet, first, they had to get in the monstrosity of a model of the boat to get to those camps.

 

The man had recommended that they take the elevator down, so Hammond and Murphy were running down the dark, ominous hallways, careful of the zombies that had been locked around the place.

 

They had been running for so long, that Murphy stopped Hammond so they could take a break, out of breath as he gasped for air.

 

"Get up. We have to get movin' to elevator, so we don't get caught up in a zombie hoard instead." Hammond commanded, taking a breather himself but desperately trying not to show it.

 

"Can't I get some air in my lungs first? I'd rather not die of oxygen deprivation." Murphy dramatically huffed, leaning against the wall.

 

"Hasn't running for a whole year made you any better at long-distance runs?" Hammond asked, scanning the hallway as he pushed himself off the wall.

 

Murphy scoffed back at him, rolling his eyes. He had been running longer than a year but ever since he was sent back in time, his body didn't remember it like his mind did.

 

"Sorry it wasn't my number one rule." Murphy mocked, noticing Hammond's antsy-like behavior as he searched around for any zombies that lurked the hallways.

 

"Let's go." Hammond motioned Murphy to follow-- who reluctantly obliged. 

 

They rushed farther down the hallways before making their way to the elevators. The doors to the stairwell sat beside the large, mechanical metal doors that opened with a screech when Hammond pressed the button.

 

"You know, I don’t see this as a good idea. Let's take the stairs instead-- boost up the cardio you preach about, yeah?" Murphy knew where this was going, and it was one of the reasons he had been so frightened of small spaces and elevators.

 

Murphy had been recommending ideas like this for the whole year. At first, Hammond hadn't listened to him, until the thing Murphy had said started to happen. Sometimes, Hammond would listen to Murphy when Murphy thought it was a bad idea, but other times, he would be blinded by his own personal confidence, and not listen to Murphy.

 

"The elevator is a quicker way down." Hammond argued, already walking into the metal death-trap.

 

"Not the safest." Murphy quickly replied, staying planted near the doors of the stairwell.

 

Hammond rolled his eyes at Murphy's child-like disobedience, stepping in front of the elevator door so it wouldn't shut on them. "If we travel by stairs, we're open from both sides for a zombie attack. We'll get trapped and killed."

 

Hammond motioned to the elevator as if trying to convey his point. "We only have one side to worry about a zombie coming after us from, and that's right in front of us. We're better off with the quicker way down then the one we'll get trapped in."

 

"You can get trapped in elevators!" Murphy argued back. He really didn’t want to go with the elevator experience again. "I'd rather the floor not fall out beneath me, thank you very much."

 

Hammond, already fed up with Murphy's behavior, stepped out of the elevator-- keeping his foot in the middle so it wouldn't close-- and grabbing Murphy from the collar of his shirt. Once gotten ahold of, he forcefully dragged Murphy in-- the doors shutting before he could make his escape.

 

"Goddammit Hammond!" Murphy pounded on the metal door, but it didn't open up. Hammond pushed the old, well-worn button that said floor three-- the floors ticking down from floor seven.

 

Murphy turned around to see Hammond hiding his proud and amused face under his naturally stoic one.

 

"Don't laugh." Murphy accused. "Just wait 'til this metal death-trap flaunts what it can actually do."

 

"I've realized that when traveling with you, you are highly dramatic." Hammond replied, walking to the other end of the elevator to watch the digital numbers tick down.

 

"But I'm right! You know that!"

 

"Sometimes." Hammond admitted.

 

"All the time." Murphy's head snapped towards Hammond the second the elevator's power cut off and it all went dark.

 

"Shit." Hammond's voice rose from the darkness, Murphy trying to make his way slightly closer-- already knowing what was about to happen.

 

Murphy heard the elevator screech from above a bit as it rocked slightly back and forth. A thud was heard on the top of it, causing the elevator to rock harder and fall down slightly more.

 

"What the hell?!" He heard Hammond's gun click, Murphy doing the same as he pulled it from the holster on his pants.

 

Two more thuds were heard on the roof before the elevator started to fall even more-- throwing both Hammond and Murphy off balance as they crashed into the walls. Hammond's gun fired through the ceiling, the bullet ripping through as a tiny shaft of light shown through.

 

Hammond walked under it, looking through the hole before blood started to drip down onto his face. He touched it, looking at it in shock before a clouded eye looked through the bullet hole and let out an inhuman screeching.

 

"Move!" Murphy called to Hammond, aiming his weapon up as the pounding started on the roof. Murphy remembered that there were three zombies up there-- Hammond had been able to kill the fourth one when he accidently fired off his gun.

 

Hammond fired a couple bullets through the ceiling-- only a few ripping through the metal as most of them lodged into it.

 

"Stop wasting ammo!" Murphy yelled-- still keeping his aim on the ceiling-- waiting for them to make their way through.

 

"What do you want me to do? Let them rip through the ceiling?" Hammond yelled back at him. He did stop shooting though-- taking Murphy's words with caution as he backed up against the door to try to open it while also have aim on the ceiling.

 

"Yes!" Murphy hollered back-- eyes scanning the room as the pounding got louder. Hammond tried to open the door to get them out, but the force of the zombies' weight caused the elevator to fall farther.

 

They both fell off balance again as a zombie was able to get the top exit of the elevator opened and fell into the elevator with them. Hammond mercied it as Murphy aimed for one of the two on the ceiling. He was able to kill it as it fell in-between the exit latch--holding it open for the other zombie to make her way through.

 

She pushed her way in-- the mercied zombie hanging from the ceiling while only the foot and ankle remained as a wedge. The light from the open crevice shining in just enough for them to see her.

 

She went after Murphy first, but he swiftly moved to the side of her, slamming her head into the wall of the elevator as she knocked his gun out of his hands. He rushed towards it as she made her way to Hammond, the Lieutenant's bullets first piercing through her mouth, before the next went straight through her brain and into the elevator wall-- splattering blood and brains on it.

 

Murphy looked over Hammond's way, gun raised as he gave the man a 'I told you so' look, which the man promptly ignored.

 

"Let's get out of here." Hammond instructed, looking at the zombie dangling like a chandelier in the middle of the elevator. He shook his head, trying to pry the doors open, while Murphy stood in the back and watched.

 

"Are you going to help?" Hammond grunted out, pushing the metal doors open with all his force.

 

"Rather one of us be holding a weapon." Murphy deduced, making Hammond roll his eyes as the metal slid open-- leaving them slightly above floor three to where they would have to squeeze their way through to get out.

 

Hammond was able to wedge himself in the door to hold it open just before a pack of four zombies started to run down the hall towards them. Hammond noticed it at the last moment as Murphy tried to shoot at them, but one zombie was able to make it through before the doors slammed shut on the other three.

 

The male, slim zombie that had made its way on as it barreled itself right towards Murphy-- knocking the chandelier zombie off the ceiling-- leaving them without any light.

 

Murphy shot at where he thought the zombie was first, hoping that he hit it, before he felt the zombie grab ahold of him. He slammed the Z against the wall, calling for Hammond's help as he smashed the zombie's head repeatedly into the wall where the former blood splatter was.

 

Murphy went to take another shot at the zombie, before it knocked the gun out of his hand.

 

"Hammond!" Murphy called again, barely seeing the silhouette of the man.

 

"Got you!" Hammond called back, confirming him suspicions of where the man was as Murphy ducked out of the way and dove for his gun. Hammond, in turn and with a lucky shot, killed the zombie on his third gunfire.

 

Lucky number three.

 

"Have mercy." Hammond said, supposedly leaning up against the wall as the elevator fell down farther once again and the zombies' gurgles could be heard from outside the elevator.

 

They both groaned, one more than the other, as Hammond agreed to hold it open slightly, so Murphy could shoot the zombies. The plan worked out well enough, as they hopped out of the elevator and tried to not step on the rotting corpses below their feet.

 

"I told you we should have taken the stairs."

 

"You can chew me out over this after we get to our transportation." Hammond spoke-- disliking of the fact that Murphy had the upper hand in mocking him and being (by how he knew how Hammond thought) annoying.

 

"Good." Murphy started, putting his gun back in his holster and sitting in a chair by an overturned table. " 'Cause I got a lot of them. Starting with this one."

 

Hammond didn't pay him any more mind other than for rolling his eyes again, before he tried to contact Simon through their radio.

 

"Camp Northern Light, this is Delta-Xray-Delta. Do you copy?" He waited for a moment as the static rang through.

 

"I copy you Delta-Xray! How's things been going at Point-Trail?" Simon's nearly over-excited voice finally came through.

 

He had been like that any time that he contacted Murphy and Hammond. Murphy knew why though. While Simon was his blend, he had…remembered-- if you will-- Simon remembered parts of his life when he had been lonely at Northern Light. Years on end with no-one but monitors to watch a dying world, and Delta-Xray to help make it back to a living one.

 

"Not as good as we hoped." Hammond responded more sarcastic than not as he glanced back to Murphy.

 

"And the package is alright?"

 

Oh yeah…and they resorted back to calling him ' the package' again. Yay.

 

"He's fine." Hammond stopped for a moment to look at the corpses on the ground. "Has anyone at Point-Trail contacted you again? We just had a zombie attack from the upper floor. " Hammond informed, walking over to the bodies.

 

Murphy followed -- although he already knew the outcome-- and watched as Hammond turned over the body. It was one of the same survivors that they had talked to recently before they left, but now all rotting and zombified.

 

"Haven't heard anything since I last informed them of your arrival. Are they okay?"

 

"Doesn't look like it." Hammond looked back to Murphy before getting up-- dropping the corpse and pacing a short distance in the hallway. "Anything new near the bottom levels on cams?"

 

"Um." He heard Simon clicking his tongue along with the keyboard as he typed away. "Besides usual masses, nothings changed. I'll check floor two, but ground zeros off limits. All the cameras were destroyed a year or so ago." Simon informed as Hammond waited patiently for the news.

 

Murphy already knew what it would be though. Simon would say that the area looked clear and that they could head down that way to see if any medical supplies were willing to be shared. They'd get down there only to end up in the chaos of someone turning Z and biting all the other injured and doctors. Murphy and Hammond would make it through with an inch of their lives to the boat and they'd head off.

 

Like a whole movie repeating through Murphy's head so only he could watch.

 

"I…Floor two doesn't look so hot. I'd stick to the left side-- get to the stairs to floor one from there rather than hope that they have supplies waiting around." Simon finished, shocking Murphy all the more.

 

Simon hadn't said that last time. He had instructed them to make it to floor two in the medical room-- not steer them away from it.

 

What the hell?

 

"On it." Hammond signed off, tapping Murphy on the shoulder to get him to move as they rushed back down the halls and to the stairs.

 

"Guess you should be happy we're taking your plan now." Hammond said as he pushed through the door, gun raised as he shone his flashlight down the stairwell.

 

"Little late for that, Y." Murphy mocked with the nickname, knowing all too well that it rode on Hammond's nerves.

 

They were able to make it down to the boat safely after that, with only two straggling zombies that were easy to take out. They made their way to the ugly mug of a boat, Hammond looking at it in disgust and astonishment.

 

"What the hell is this?" Hammond asked as he looked at the yellows and greens mix into the blue and white colored eyes on the front. It was a paddle boat with no engine at all on it.

 

"Told you not to take it."

 

"Shut up." Hammond glared back at Murphy, scoffing slightly at the monstrosity they were given to travel in.

 

"Think it floats?" Murphy continued on, ignoring Hammond's command to be quiet. "I wonder what they called it?" Murphy pointed to the eyes, flicking it once as he walked to the side of Hammond.

 

 "Billy the Boat?" He asked Hammond.

 

"Thomas the Train had more potential than this." Hammond replied back, looking out the backside to the river. He climbed in the boat after he opened the door, throwing a wooden paddle out the side and to Murphy.

 

"Better start paddling."

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed.

Anybody catch the Zombieland reference?

I want to give a shoutout to the following people:

My Mom, of course, for helping me in this and giving me ideas to add.
My older brother, SlappyDuck, who is helping as well and revising through what I send him before I post.
My Gram and Dad for, at points, listening to the story and giving me feedback.
And my younger brother for giving me ideas which are soon to come.

Stay as silly as Billy the Boat!
Coming soon:
Puppies and Kittens Remake: Part One

(Yes, there are multiple parts)

Chapter 6: Puppies and Kittens (Part One)

Summary:

Overview: A team of everyday heroes transports the only known survivor of a zombie virus from New York to California in hopes of using his blood as a vaccine. Yet, not everything is as Murphy remembers it to be.

Notes:

Hi Z-N fans! The show had included a Walking Dead reference in it, and I will include some of my own throughout the fanfiction--however, this will not be a crossover. Kind of just like picking fun through lots of other zombie movies/shows.

Murphy's POV:

 

They had made it to the other camp not too long after-- getting a not so great welcome and pushed away mere seconds after arrival. Hammond had nearly pleaded with them to give them a better transportation, and while grumbling, they had given them one. It was a canoe with two paddles for either person. While it wasn't some motor-powered water vehicle, beggars couldn't be choosers, and it was far better than Billy the Boat they had left at the second camp.

 

 He and Hammond had been paddling for some time now, rarely stopping for a break as they made their way through a river in upstate New York. Ever so quickly making their way to the border of Camp Blue Sky, and right back to Warren and the group.

 

To say Murphy was excited was ruled out from his fear. He didn't want to be faced with them again and have to see the reality that this whole mission to save humanity would have to be done all over again. He couldn't and yet he was heading straight that way.

 

It was dark now-- not entirely pitch black, but the sun had just set, leaving them with limited light. Hammond informed him that if they didn't make it to a outpost soon, they were going to dock and set up camp in case a zombie was to float by in the water without them noticing. However, after a good twenty minutes, Murphy spotted a figure keeping watch in the woods. He knew exactly who it was without seeing his face.

 

Garnett.

 

The man was trying to stay hidden within the brush-- watching their ever movement for the past ten minutes, and Murphy knew he wasn't the only one who saw him. Murphy watched as Hammond kept a side eye on Garnett before they saw another figure approach the silhouette of the man. Her form hidden by the trees and leaves as well, but all too noticeable to Murphy.

 

Warren.

 

He couldn't help as he froze up for a moment, stopping his paddling and watching her every movement like she was watching his. The last time he had seen her-- felt her more-so-- was right before the Risen had killed the group mercilessly. Knowing that she was alive-- even seeing her again-- brought those dark memories of heading down that same rabbit hole and losing her again.

 

Of having to experience this hell with her again-- to learn and lose within their friendship and their group.

 

Hammond nudged him when Murphy had paused for too long-- moving just in time to help Hammond turn the canoe ever so slightly closer to Warren and Garnett. Just as they had done so, Garnett rose his flashlight, blinking it on and off towards them to grab their attention. Hammond quickly followed-- Murphy doing the same as they paddled their way over to the duo on shore.

 

It wasn't hard to miss, that as Garnett came out of the brush to talk to them, Murphy saw Warren raise her gun towards Hammond and him. Always one to take precaution.

 

Garnett slowly made his way down, Murphy inspecting him over carefully. Nothing much was different about the man, given he had died only a couple months after they meant one another. His brown hair and beard were ratted in some places (unlike Murphy's who, even when he tried to keep it comb, ended up in a ratty mess) but trimmed and neat overall for the apocalypse.

 

He wore his usual button jean jacket with a black shirt underneath, fitted with long jeans. Mostly what Murphy saw Garnett wear all those months, but it didn't help with the shock of actually seeing him and Warren all over again.

 

Just as they got close to the shore to stop, Garnett shone the flashlight right in Hammond's eyes-- causing the Lieutenant to cringe and cover his eyes to block out the light.

 

"That's far enough, gentlemen." Garnett instructed, and to hear his voice again sounded all too weird and unusual to Murphy. "Identify yourselves and state of business. Team of snipers has you covered," Oh, Murphy knew that was a big lie. "-So no sudden moves."

 

Hammond hesitated for a second, taking a breath before going to speak-- having to stare right into the light that Garnett was shining. "Lieutenant Mark Hammond. Delta Force." Hammond thought it over for a second before continuing. "Or at least I was when there was still a Delta Force. I'm on a mission from what's left of the government, and I need your help."

 

Simon had said that Blue Sky was this close, and should possibly have people willing to offer a hand. Murphy knew they would-- before of course getting tragically killed-- but he hadn't steered Hammond away. As much as Murphy had wanted to kill himself and not go through with the mission at the beginning of the apocalypse, he had been thinking it over for the past year.

 

He had a chance to save his group and his daughter. That would mean he had to conform to the Risen's rules, and from that, left the one person that was sent back in time with him. Murphy had no idea where that person was, or which member of the Risen they were. For all he knew, it could be Jackson.

 

And what would stop Jackson from killing the group again if he didn't get his way?

 

Murphy made up his mind to travel with the group again, for the sake of keeping them away from the Risen, and hopefully changing the outcome of the future to something he would consider more livable. Maybe he wouldn't be able to create a blend world again, but something else.

 

And if he could take advantage of the situation, then he would. Like now, tagging along as Hammond asked for help from Garnett.

 

"What mission?" Garnett looked all the more confused at the information. " For what government?"

 

Hammond shook his head, remaining in his position in the little canoe boat. "Look, to be honest I don't know if anybody who gave me the order is still alive. "

 

Surprisingly enough, if Merch had worked for Zona, this mission was probably run by them. Leaving the rich, wealthy, and snobbish to be the ones alive.

 

"I do know it’s imperative that I get this person to a medical lab in California. Alive." Hammond cleared just as Warren walked out of the brush and stood beside Garnett.

 

"Well, I guess I won't shoot him…yet."

 

Murphy almost had to hold back a laugh at seeing her again, and how disappointed her voice was at not getting to kill him. She was alive! He was happy, but sad to know she didn't remember a single thing about the times they spent together. Good ones, at least. He rather she not remember the bad ones, but then again, time travel screwed that up, so he had to start all over.

 

"Who is he?" Garnett asked, looking from Warren to Hammond, sparing a short glance to Murphy behind. "Some kind of doctor?"

 

Hammond looked down again, seeming to try to find words to describe the situation. Murphy remained silent, watching the exchange take place, while watching Warren and Garnett most of the time. Still astonished to see them alive and…somewhat well considering apocalypse standards.

 

"Not exactly." Hammond started, turning around to look at Murphy-- who pulled his gaze off of Warren to look at Hammond instead. " His name is Murphy. And he may just be the last best chance to save humanity."

 

Another dollar added to his imaginary money.

 

Murphy couldn't help but roll his eyes ever so unnoticeably, before returning his gaze to Warren and Garnett-- the duo turning their full attention to him, making him shy away a little at their curious and suspicious looks.

 

Like dead man's eyes following you when you know they shouldn't be.

 

----line break----

Simon's POV:

 

"Hello, baby. It's me." The video message repeated over again, Simon watching all too intensely. He had been alone for so long, that he had turned to memorizing what to say to the recorded message-- making himself believe that he was actually talking to a living, breathing person.

 

He knew he wasn't though, and his glitching looks helped to remind him fully of that.

 

The second he had laid eyes on the black-haired woman with glasses in an outdoor scenery, she had started to glitch into a gruesome, brain eating zombie with one eye gashed out, and blood salivating out of her rotting teeth.

 

He paused it, looking away with his head in his hands, trying to rid himself of what he just saw.

 

Why did he see that? That wasn't something normal! Why was he able to see the zombie forms of people, even through Pre-Z recorded messages?  

 

He took a deep breath, calming himself down as he cautiously looked back at the screen. Her paused face, mid-sentence remaining human and normal. Simon released the breath, remembering what to say, and clicking play on the video again-- immersing himself into it like he was actually talking to someone.

 

"You got time to talk?" She started again, Simon earning a smile of his own as he watched her.

 

"Come on, sweetie." He recited his rehearsed lines. "I always have time for you. You know that." Simon couldn't help that his speaking felt forced this time-- not adding up to an actual conversation that he would like to believe was happening.

 

She picked up right after him. "I just wanted to know if you're gonna make it home for Christmas, like you promised." She drawled out to the unknown person that the video had actually been sent to.

 

"Daisy, I just don't know." You're dead. Christmas isn't even thought of anymore. "Things are pretty busy up here."

 

"You and all your top secrets." Daisy chastised immediately after him. "Can't they give you some time off? Everybody's gonna be so disappointed. " Her voice went quiet, the sincerity and naiveness to it all just as the Zombie Apocalypse was starting, managing to get to him more than he thought it would. To know she was dead now and Christmas had been ruined, leaving 'everyone' more than disappointed.

 

" I know." His voice started to crack. "But I'll get home soon, I promise." Simon paused for a moment, leaning in and trying to remember what he was supposed to say next, but the thoughts of seeing her as a zombie started to fog his mind.

 

"How's Cowgirl-- Cowboy." Simon corrected, but the illusion was ruined at that point. He paused it before Daisy could speak again.

 

"Dammit." He crossed his arm over his chest, the other covering his face as he took more deep breaths. Now was not the time to let his loneliness get the best of him. It wasn't the time to let this zombie glitching mess with his head even more than it had already.

 

He hadn't even gotten to the part about her starting to talk about the outbreak happening in Washington before another voice broke in from the radio, Simon going to answer it immediately.

 

"Northern Light. This is CDC Mount Wilson. Northern Light. This is CDC Mount Wilson. Over." The message repeating as Simon quickly abandoned his failed attempt to talk to Daisy as he put on his headphones to talk over the radio with the CDC. He hadn't heard from them in ages, so news out-of-the-blue like this meant one of two things. Good new or bad news, and Simon was sure he knew which one it was.

 

Again, Deja-vu came in handy for situations like these.

 

"Mount Wilson, this is Northern Light. Over." Simon responded quickly, readying for whatever news they had to throw at them to help.

 

"The lab has been overrun." Shit. He knew it was never good news. "Operation Bite Mark abandoning location. What is the status of Delta-Xray-Delta? Over." The man on the other end asked.

 

Simon hadn't heard from Hammond and Murphy for a few weeks now-- leaving him left in the dark about where or how the two men were holding up. Last he heard; they had just left Camp Point-Trail.

 

"Delta-Xray location: currently unknown." Simon replied. He had sent them near where he knew another survivor camp was held up, so he hoped they had taken his warning to it, but he didn't know if they did. "We lost contact three weeks ago. Over."

 

"I need the status of Delta-Xray. We need to…" The radio started to cut out, leaving Simon with a hard time hearing what they were saying. "…new coordinates…."

 

"Mount Wilson." Simon tried to contact them again to get them to repeat what they were saying. "We did not copy. Repeat. We did not copy. Over."

 

The radio started to cut off before static overtook the glitching voice.

 

"Mount Wilson." He tried again, but all he heard in reply was dead silence.

 

Simon clicked off, more frustrated than not as he leaned against his chair. So much for getting in touch with actual human beings who were majorly important, only to leave him in the dark a few minutes into the conversation.

 

He took off his headset, running a hand across his face.

 

The lab was overrun, he couldn't get in contact with Delta-Xray, and new coordinates were given that he wasn't even able to pick up.

 

Goddamn apocalypse.

 

---line break---

Murphy's POV:

 

Garnett and Warren had taken Murphy and Hammond just outside of Camp Blue Sky, yet they weren't allowed in until morning. Guess they wanted to be safe with newcomers in the daylight than at dark? It happened the same way last time as well, so Murphy assumed that it was a protocol for unknowns.

 

Garnett led up front, Hammond behind him, Murphy taking third as Warren took the back. Murphy couldn't help but spare a glance or two her way-- probably freaking her out more. It was just so weird to see her again.

 

She looked younger than the last time he saw her; braided pigtails draping across either shoulder as her ever-present stoic face made sure Hammond and him didn't get out of line. It was the oddest thing. To not be trusted and forgotten when--for years-- you were remembered and known. It was like some memory disfunction happened-- causing amnesia to all those that he knew prior.

 

Regardless, they made their way on the trail in the camp as people worked their assigned jobs. Murphy had to watch his step-- keeping himself from tripping as Warren moved quickly behind him, forcing him to speed up his walk. Random junk was scattered across the place in hopes to set up a nice environment. Mismatched chairs sat around an area for a campfire, or life jackets hung on a rail.  A school bus was parked near the far side near an exit point to get out. Escape bus, in this scenario then.

 

People all around stared at them, curious and cautious to have two newcomers (one in a military outfit while the other looked unkept) be led through camp. Murphy had gotten use to stares. From Talkers, or humans, or anything. Years from now or not, that was always something that was a constant. He knew it contributed to the fact that he never looked normal, or never was normal-- but either way, the whole ordeal was something he usually pushed to the back of his mind.

 

The two men who had been staring had come up behind Warren, helping to lead Murphy and Hammond to-- what Murphy remembered as a meeting. Children stared at them from the sides of the trail as some looked on from their jobs. Despite being used to it, Murphy always questioned why they had been watching so intensely.

 

Was it odd to have new people be brought into camp? Was it just Murphy's striking good looks that everyone had to stop what they were doing and gawk?

 

Maybe, but he knew he would never get an answer. They'd all be dead soon anyways.

 

He had fallen slightly behind Warren as he stared back at the two children, getting caught up in his thoughts before he looked back towards her-- Warren motioning him to move in front of her. He did as she commanded, facing forward as they made their way into the meeting area.

 

The two men had placed food down in front of them, but Murphy paid no mind to it this time. Last time, he had been scarfing it down-- just glad to have a meal and fine with looking gluttonous.  Not this time though. Instead, he sat with crossed arms in his chair listening to the conversation.

 

"All we need are some basic supplies," Hammond started.

 

They had been traveling in those two boats for three weeks now, so supplies had definitely run lower than they thought it would. That and when they would set up camp, some people tried to steal off of them, leaving the supplies even fewer.

 

"…and transportation south as far as the Tappan Zee bridge. We're meeting a new team there, and they can take us the rest of the way to California."

 

Oh what a pipedream that was.

 

Warren, Garnett, and the two men in the room with them gave curious and unfaithful looks to the whole situation as they seemed to silently communicate with one another.

 

"California sure is a hell of a long way." One of the men said, who was standing guard near the door.

 

"No lie in that. Took us a year to get this far from Maine." Murphy butted in more for the sake of being heard this time than not. He kept silent last time, but he was different than he was then.

 

Hammond gave him a side-eye glare as Warren nodded her head, raising an eyebrow at Murphy. "The Tappan Zee bridge is a long way." She directed the comment to Hammond, also keeping a side-glance on Murphy.

 

"I wouldn't ask, but it's imperative and I am out of options." Hammond explained.

 

They were out of options the second they got on Billy the Boat.

 

Garnett spoke up this time, "How'd you find out about this place?"

 

"An ex-cop and some others taking shelter in a prison twenty clicks up the road said there was some National Guard that set up a camp, might be able to help us out." Hammond said, thinking it over for a second longer before continuing. "One of the men helping us also heard something of this place. Said it might be worth checking out to see who's willing to help."

 

Simon hadn't told them about Blue Sky last time, surprisingly enough-- only the ex-cop and survivors. This time, somehow, Simon had received or had some sort of information of it. Why? Murphy had no clue.

 

" 'Ex' National Guard." Warren corrected before Hammond could even finish his sentence, seeming all the more defensive of the situation.

 

"Yeah, I was with Georgia National Guard." Garnett added. "Warren here was activated out of Missouri, but as far as I know, we're the only ones left of our unit." Garnett finished, voice lower than before as he looked over at Warren.

 

"Look, I know there's no more chain-of-command, no more Guard, no more government." Hammond shrugged as he spoke. "Just a few of us out there following orders 'cuz that's what we do. " Hammond took a breath, voice turning more solemn as he spoke again.

 

"I lost eight of the best men I ever served with getting this far. My orders are to take this man to a lab in California, and that's what I intend to do." Hammond said, looking between everyone in the room, including Murphy.

 

"Now…" Hammond started again. "Are you people going to help me or not?"

 

The same man who had said California was a long way, spoke again. "Why is he so goddamn important?"

 

"Well, to start off with-" Murphy started, unfolding his arms from his chest before Hammond stopped him with a raised hand.

 

"He has information vital to the development of a vaccine for the zombie virus, and that's all I can tell you. How much more do you need to know?" Hammond questioned, but it didn't hold that same questioning tone. Instead, a more challenging one.

 

Warren, Garnett, and the two men stared at Hammond before shifting their gaze at Murphy. Seeing as how he was the one to start talking first.

 

Damn. He should've just left Hammond to do the talking like last time.

 

"Yeah. What he said." Murphy confirmed, scooting away from their gaze as he eyed them back.

 

Garnett nodded slightly. "Warren and I can take the pickup truck, bring you to the Tappan Zee, but you're on your own after that." Garnett deduced as Warren gave the Sargent a side-eye glance in return, questioning his decision.

 

"That's all I'm asking." Hammond shook his head, happy that the plan went to right way this time. Well, sort of the right anyway. Murphy knew Garnett's plan would go down the shit-shoot the second the camp got overrun.

 

"Well, if we keep it moving, we can get there and back before nightfall." Warren turned her head to the man who had been speaking prior, Garnett doing the same, as the man shook his head in decline.

 

"I'm not sure we risk the truck…Or you two." The man added, practically giving Warren and Garnett the 'final answer' look as if he was talking to two of his children.

 

The room became eerily silent, and although Murphy knew what would come next, he only leaned back in his chair to see how it played out. Most likely the same way as last time though.

 

Nothing ever really changed until Murphy did something entirely different to affect the outcome.

 

Hammond stood, almost threatening to the man who spoke. "Maybe I haven't been clear." Hammond started as Warren and Garnett got up too-- Warren's hand reaching for her gun. Although he knew how it happened, Murphy decided he wasn't about to take risks with the other two men in the room-- his hand slowly making its way done to his own pistol strapped to his side. Just in case the other two men somehow change what they did from last time.

 

"This is more important than your trucks. Or anyone's life. Including my own. " Hammond stated, glancing between Garnett and Warren. "I don't want to insist. I was supposed to meet my rendezvous two days ago. This needs to happen. Now." Hammond instructed, all the more threatening in his speech and body language.

 

The man who declined sighed, nodding his head after a moment. "No longer than a day. I won't hesitate to send a team after you if not." The man warned, glancing between Warren and Garnett, before looking Hammond straight in the eyes. Not nearly matching the same threatening that Hammond had.

 

"Thank you. That's all we need." Hammond thanked, tapping Murphy's side slightly to get him to holster his pistol from the man.

 

----line break---

 

Garnett, Warren, the two men, and Hammond were all loading up the truck that they were taking as Murphy watched from the sidelines. He wasn't in as much of a trance as he had been earlier when seeing the two again, but it was like an adrenaline rush. Hard to come off of for some time, but sooner or later, it causes you to be more fatigued and out of it.

 

Murphy was in the middle at the moment. Not at the pinacol but not at the bottom either.

 

He stood leaned up against a tree, off in his own world for a moment before taking in his surroundings. He felt eyes pinned on him, but he wasn't sure where.

 

He took to looking-- only seeing an old lady eyeing him suspiciously as she washed clothes and a band of children stopping from playing ball as they watched the truck get loaded up. Warren was getting everything set up in the front as Garnett was working in the truck bed-- neither paying any attention to him.

 

He raised an eyebrow, looking around his surroundings for something out of the ordinary and coming up with nothing. That is, until he turned around nearly all the way.

 

Standing tall was a female, ginger hair in a ponytail with a scowl on her face. The only thing different about her was that she didn't have her name written on a coat, and was younger than the last time he saw her.

 

McLanley

 

"You." Murphy snarled, pounding his way over to her. Out of all the people to be sent back in time with, and it just happened to be the one standing beside Jackson, doing nothing as his blends got killed.

 

"Me." She confirmed as Murphy got right up on her. She didn't hesitate to put her gun against his side, finger on the trigger but hidden from view. They were mere inches away, Murphy looking her right in the eyes as their noses almost touch. Nothing but boiling hatred in either of their eyes.

 

"So, it was you the Risen decided to send back. The one who couldn't even fight." Murphy bit out at her, growling as she pressed her gun farther into his side.

 

"It was. I'm on a mission to get the 'Zombie Chew Toy'--you-- to California without the world going to shit. Like last time." She fired back, tilting her head, but not even having to look up at him. She was nearly his height-- a good three inches less-- as she growled back at him.

 

" The world is far past shit, if you haven't noticed." Murphy barked. "You think you're coming with us? Banding with Hammond?" How the hell was she supposed to do that? She wasn't a part of this mission, didn't even know the group! They wouldn't bring her. "You're just going to be left here with the rest of them to die." Murphy growled out, causing McLanley's face to twitch.

 

"I'm coming, don't you worry about that." She bit out with snark.

 

"And just gonna leave everyone else to die?" Supposedly, if she didn't freak out when he said everyone at this camp was going to die, she must've known. So, if she was coming, she'd have knowledge, but will do nothing to stop the outcome.

 

McLanley sucked in a breath, biting the bottom of her lip before speaking. "Yes. I can't change it."

 

Really? Murphy had been trying to change everything up to this point! Does this follow along the same lines, or is it just a ploy for her to get what she wanted?

 

"Always one to kill, huh?"

 

She growled, shoving the gun harder and farther into his side. "Death for majority to save the masses."

 

Delusional thinking, just like always.

 

"Like what you did to the blends?" Murphy questioned, his anger rising higher the longer he talked to McLanley.

 

"I didn't kill them, you son of a bitch!" She went to throw a punch at him, but stopped, backing down and resorting to use her gun as her main weapon of tactic.

 

"I suppose you read the letter?" Her voice was calmer now but deadly all the same.

 

"No splitting, no blends, and death. Could have summed it up in one sentence." Murphy's lip curled in disgust as he spoke to her-- the conversation angering him all the more.

 

"And that's exactly what will happen. Or else the last one, is exactly what you're getting." She nearly demanded, eyes narrowing farther as she spoke.

 

That's how she wants to play, then so be it.

 

Murphy backed away, raising his arms almost as if he were surrendering as he watched her. Hatred leaking through the smirk he was giving her.

 

"Do it then." He challenged, nodding his head to the gun she was holding. "Give me what you think is so much of a punishment. I'm done. Take me out of this hell."

 

She tilted her head back, almost as if she were proud as she watched him, holstering her gun. "You haven't disobeyed." Her voice turned sweeter and quieter as she walked towards him. "I have more than enough reasons to shoot you, but none of them abide by being back in time, so I'll wait. I always have one bullet saved for you." She patted her side, brushing up against him as she walked over to where Warren was.

 

Murphy turned around to watch her, hand reaching for his gun, but pulling away at the last second. He easily had the opportunity to do so, but if he killed her (some member of Camp Blue Sky) he had no doubt one of the two men would turn to shoot him too. It didn't sound too awful, but if he took out the problem (McLanley, that is) then he would at least like to live a better life without being under their control.

 

With his daughter again in a world worthwhile.

 

He'd kill McLanley some other time, when no one was around to see or if it could be played off as an accident. She wouldn't have control over him, Lucy, or the group, and he'd make sure of it.

 

Murphy moved closer, hoping to hear McLanley get rejected from going on the mission, and having to stay here.

 

"Warren." She called as if she were talking to an old friend, heading over to the Lieutenant.

 

"What's up?" Warren asked in return, stopping her job for a moment to talk to the Risen member.

 

Why were they acting all buddy-buddy? Last time, Warren had no idea who McLanley was.

 

"I want to come. Better to work in trios then duos." She nodded, looking behind her to Murphy and Hammond.

 

"Not gonna happen. I'm already risking enough letting these two out." The one man said, motioning to Garnett and Warren. "And besides. You have a daughter to take care of."

 

Did she now? Was she just going to leave her daughter here to die in Camp Blue Sky then?

 

"I headed over to Silver Tail to see this one guy. I left her there with him." McLanley informed, getting an unimpressed look from the one man and Warren. "And-" She raised her voice for that part, notifying she wasn't finished. "I traded some. Got some ammunition and food that I left at the main house. I'm free to go and help."

 

The one man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Blake." He started before McLanley (Blake, as he assumed now) interrupted.

 

"Please. They have two against two in this scenario. Make it three against two and you might have a better chance at getting your truck back and us." Blake nearly begged, and in this case, for her life would apply.

 

"She has a point." Warren sided with Blake, much to Murphy's dismay.

 

"Fine, fine. For better chances, but that's it." The man said with a pointed look, walking away after Blake nodded her head.

 

"Told ya I'll come on a mission run one day." Blake smiled at Warren-- the Lieutenant smiling back as if all was well between the two.

 

"You got me. Help Garnett, would ya? I want to leave as soon as we can." Warren said, patting Blake on the arm as the Risen member headed to the truck bed.

 

That manipulative little bitch.

 

She killed them, only to come back in time to become all buddy-buddy with them to follow the Risen's orders. Murphy growled, fists balling as the thought came into mind. And they thought he was bad? No, this was way worse.

 

The last of it was loaded up, as Hammond called to him.

 

"Come on, Murphy!" Hammond shouted, motioning him over to the truck. Murphy complied, heading over as they all loaded up into the truck.

 

And the next time he got the chance to, he'd make sure he'd kill her.

 

----Line break----

Addy's POV:

 

She and Mack had come with Doc to talk to some dealers. Supposedly weapons dealers, but Doc promised they had a little more than that up their sleeve.

 

Sketchy and Skeezy were what the two men called themselves, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at it. Regardless, she had come for the sake of finding a new weapon. Besides her gun, she had been using a wooden board that had nails wedged into it, but it was old now, and the wood was deteriorating and becoming weaker the more times she swung at a zombie's head.

 

It was also hard to pull it out of the skull anyways, so she decided it was time to find a switch.

 

Doc was talking to the man called Skeezy, negotiating over medicines in the open field by the truck. Sketchy was talking to her and Mack, helping them out with picking a new weapon.

 

"Well if availability of ammo is all you care about then the .22 is the way to go." Sketchy said walking around talking to Mack as he cocked the gun back. "But…" He continued, "You really want to make an impression, check out this smoke wagon." Sketchy finished, talking to her as he handed her a revolver.

 

She took it, looking away from Mack and testing the feeling in her hand. Mack walked over beside Sketchy, still focused on the .22 but paying close enough attention to Addy in the process.

 

"You really make a z's day with this." He said before turning back to Mack. "Now the .22, that'll kill a z, but it's gonna be about two or three shots before the thing's down and dead. This baby?" He said, tapping the revolver she was holding. " You stop a car with this."

 

Addy sighed, handing it back to the man as she crossed her arms. She had guns, and while it's always good to have more, she didn't want to always draw attention to herself. Something quiet was always better.

 

"I was thinking something more silent. Like a club." Or another board with nails in it. "And sharp." Hence the nails.

 

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." Sketchy nodded, heading to the back of the truck again. "Yeah, I like how you think. Silent but effective, huh? Okay."

 

He pulled down the back holding their stock of weapons, pulling out a metal bat with spikes making their way around the top, before one ended at the point. "Check this out."

 

"Hmm." She hummed as he held it out in front of her. Better than the board she was using, that was for sure.

 

"Made it myself." He said, handing it to her. "I call it, 'The Z Whacker.' You start with an aluminum bat then customize it for the task at hand."

 

Addy smirked at it, testing it out as she swung it back and forth. "Wow. It's light."

 

"Spikes are hand cast from beer cans. They're long enough to kill the brain, but you can still pull it out. 'Cuz nothing is worse than getting your pike stuck into a z's skull. 'Cuz then you got to drag them down to the ground, you got to put your foot on their chest. Then you got to yank the thing out. And by then you're dead. You know what I mean?" Sketchy demonstrated as Addy finished piking the tip of the bat into the dirt.

 

It worked rather efficiently. A whole lot better than her 'Spanking Board' as Mack would call it.

 

"Sure do hate that." Addy responded. She figured Sketchy was one of those guys that could talk a whole heck of a lot, so she only listened for the important stuff as he spoke. Then again, he also seemed like the guy that could talk a big lie too, so it was hard to pick out true from fake, and then important from not important.

 

She swung it again, listening in on Doc and Skeezy's conversation as she tested the bat out.

 

"How 'bout a straight across trade?" She heard Doc ask, rattling a pill bottle. " A dozen of these aspirin for a dozen of these reloaded .223's?"

 

"You can't kill a zombie with aspirin." She heard the doubtful and disbelieving tone in Skeezy's voice at the trade.

 

"Well you can't kill a fever with a bullet and they ain't making any more aspirin."

 

"Make it a dozen oxycontin and you got a deal."

 

"I'd have to take a dozen oxycontin before I'd make that deal." Doc replied, dropping the bullets back in the container he found them in. All the while, Mack was looking over the Z-Whacker, touching the tip to see how sharp it was as Sketchy supervised.

 

"How 'bout some meth? Huh? You want some crystal?" Doc tried to barter again. "Yeah, I baked it myself."

 

"That same pink ice you made before? No, that stuff gave me an axe to the skull headache." She heard Skeezy decline.

 

"No, that's what the aspirins for." Doc tried again, but he knew the deal was up.

 

Although, that didn't stop Addy from trying to help him.

 

"C'mon man. Couldn't be that bad. My friend, Blake, she tried some of that stuff and didn't feel a thing." She swung her bat around, Mack moving out of the way as Addy tried to help Doc. Given, the statement wasn't fully true though. Blake hadn't known what it was when trying it, curtesy of the unknown, but she hadn't felt anything either.

 

"No, not gonna happen. Your friends gotta be insane if their okay with that." Skeezy motioned, backing away as Sketchy leaned up against the truck to talk to Doc.

 

"How many ampules of morphine you got left in there?"

 

The question was left unanswered as the gurgling of zombies could be heard in the distance, the sound of the leaves being pushed back and the twigs crunching under their feet as they moved quickly, all too familiar to Addy.

 

"Behind you." Mack warned, turning around just as Addy did, swinging the Z-Whacker like she was a professional baseball player. It went right through the zombie's face, killing it with the first hit as Mack made his way beside her.

 

"Nice." He said, looking at the zombified face oozing blood. "You all right? That was a little close."

 

She nodded, agreeing with him. "Yeah, that… that was a fast one." She turned back to Sketchy pointing the bloody Z-Whacker at him.

 

"Brutal."

 

"Told ya."

 

"Hey isn't that Red Hansen?" Sketchy noticed, leaning forward from behind to get a better look. Addy looked closer at the zombie too, the overalls not in too bad of shape on the mercied zombie. Freshly turned, probably.

 

"Z's got Red?" Skeezy sounded disappointed, getting a closer look at the zombie. "Damn, he was one of our best costumers. Tough as bullets."

 

Not as tough as a Z-Whacker though.

 

"I wonder if his brothers know?"

 

As if it were scripted, more zombies could be heard running towards their area, screeching and gurgling all the while.

 

"Yeah, I think so 'cuz here they come." Sketchy finished as Mack made his way forward, .22 raised to the zombie that came out of the brush. He shot once, the bullet lodging into the zombie's head. Addy took a quick look at it, his skin not even green, but a normal color instead. If it hadn't been for the eyes, erratic behavior, and mass amounts of blood, she could've assumed it was a human from behind and from afar.

 

Mack threw the zombie to the ground, heading for the next one following. Addy decided to take some fun in the action, Mack letting her kill the big z coming straight towards them. She ran up to it, whacking it in the face like an undercut, before swinging across its face again. It was as if the zombie didn't even feel it, turning his head back to Addy in an attempt to bite her.

 

She raised her Z-Whacker again, aiming for a hit before Mack came right up beside it, taking the time it was distracted into his advantage and shooting it right through the brain. They let their guard down, turning back around to face Doc before another zombie attacked, grabbing onto Mack leaving him without room to kill it. He ducked, just in time as two gunshots fired, the last zombie falling to the ground with two bullets lodged in his head.

 

Addy and Mack turned just in time to see Sketchy and Skeezy holster their guns.

 

 "Closing time." Sketchy called, grabbing their belongings and throwing them into the van as quickly as they could, Doc grabbing his own belongings so they wouldn't get caught up in the mix.

 

The pack-up was quick, Sketchy and Skeezy driving off before Doc could finish stuffing his bag.

 

"The way that big one moved," Doc started, heading over to Addy as he shouldered his bag. "He must have turned just a few hours ago."

 

"Four brothers, recently turned, found on Miller's Road by Sutter's Farms." Addy recorded, glancing around at the brothers, their zombified body's strewn across the road. "Given mercy, May 13, 3 A.Z." She finished, glad to still have the date on her.

 

Too bad it was five days before her birthday and she already had more than two near death experiences within the week by zombies.

 

Mack came up behind her, patting her on the back. "Time to go." He cut in, walking towards where Doc was heading. She closed off, strapping her things back on her side as she held the Z-Whacker close and followed Doc.

 

"Told ya you'd find some great stuff there, huh?" Doc asked as they walked along the forest trail back to Camp Blue Sky.

 

"Fine, you're right--you're right. The Z-Whacker is pretty cool." She admitted, swinging the bat back and forth as she looked at it in awe.

 

Doc beamed back at her, nearly walking backwards as Mack nudged up against her. "Better than that old bat you made from scratch?"

 

"Definitely better." She agreed, showing off the weapon to the two men. "Sorry I couldn't help get those bullets for you though, Doc." She apologized, Doc waving it off with a smile still on his face.

 

"It's fine. Figured from the beginning I wasn't gonna get a deal with those two. That 'Blake tactic' was a good try though." Doc complimented, shrugging his bag farther up his shoulder as they headed down the path.

 

"Yeah, I figured I'd give it a shot. Impressed the hell out of me the first time she did it, so I thought it might win Sleezy over to try to beat her."

 

"Skeezy." Mack corrected, shaking his head.

 

"Right, that." She wasn't too good with names all the time. Sue her.

 

"Lord knows that girl knows how to bring a party." Doc shook his head as well, referencing back to Blake.

 

"A little too much." Addy shivered. "Sometimes I think she's way off in the future, trying to give us insight on what partying is like."

 

"Hopefully without zombies." Mack pointed, cautiously looking in the woods for danger as he joked around with them.

 

"You'd have to wait a long time for that, kid. And I mean a long time." Doc reminded, walking forward a bit more to the edge of the brush.

 

"Not gonna lie, I'm not that much of a patient type. I don't-" Addy was cut off by Doc, his voice sounding alarmed and panicked from the spot he was looking from.

 

"Hey guys! You might wanna see this."

 

She and Mack jogged up to either side of Doc, looking on to where he was looking to see smoke billowing up into the skies. Houses were burning down as well as trees, as gunshots could be heard that drowned out the sounds of screaming.

 

"Oh my God! Is that Camp Blue Sky?!" Addy asked, her voice now filled with panic too as she inched her way closer to the edge to get a better look.

 

"Sure looks like it." Mack replied, getting closer as well as Doc pulled out the hand-radio.

 

Addy couldn't help but think as she stared at the massive fire raging in the middle; What the hell happened to Blue Sky?

Chapter 7: Puppies and Kittens (Part Two)

Summary:

Overview: Continuation from the previous chapter.

Notes:

Notes: I was thinking about writing from multiple POV's in "Season six" (basically the first chapters before time travel), but ended up only writing with Murphy for the majority.

If you guys would like, I might write an off-shoot of what the others experienced in their downtime after the election, and as blends in Toivo. Like 10K in Altura; Doc at the Water Keepers; Warren with Cooper; Addy traveling, and then all of them together again, and what they had to go through. What do you guys think? Yay or nay?

Murphy's POV:

 

They had stopped to take a break a couple hours after driving, Warren saying that they had to check up with Camp Blue Sky again. Murphy got out of the truck, knowing all too well how it would go down, and knowing all too well that he would be involved in it. Blake leaned up against the hood of the truck, watching him from the corner of her eye, but trying to act as if she wasn't doing so. Hammond stood guard by the truck, listening to Warren as she spoke on the radio, but also keeping an eye on Murphy to make sure he didn't try to escape.

 

Again.

 

Not that he was anymore. That wasn't his mission.

 

Garnett was walking the perimeter, sending glances over to Warren as well, hoping to hear from their camp quickly, so they could get back. Another pipedream and plan ruined. The Sargent made his way back to the truck, sitting on the seat on the back left side with the door open as he now kept an eye on Hammond and Murphy.

 

"I'm gonna take a piss." Murphy announced to Hammond, hoping to stay away long enough so he didn't get caught up in the mess that was about to unravel.

 

And he had to pee. But first things first when you're about to have another dispute.

 

"In my sights." Hammond instructed, nodding to Murphy as he watched him.

 

Murphy grumbled, walking just as far as the tree line to turn around and unzip his pants. "So much for privacy."

 

"Not much of it left in the Apocalypse!" Blake called, turning away from watching him as he took a leak. Murphy only grumbled louder in reply, making sure to take his sweet time so he wouldn't have to be in the dispute again.

 

"Camp Blue Sky, this is mobile one. Blue Sky, this is mobile one. Over." Warren tried, pacing slightly.

 

"Zip it up and get over here, Murphy." Hammond called, nodding his head back to the truck to get him to speed up.

 

Just putting him right back in that same scenario. Great.

 

He sighed harshly, zipping his pants again and begrudgingly making his way back over to the truck-- staying a fair distance away from Hammond in the case that this whole thing was about to repeat again.

 

"Hey guys, I need you to get back to us. It's time for our 8 p.m. signal check." Warren tried again, but nothing came through. Not even the sound of static.

 

"I don't think they're gonna get back." Murphy shook his head, speaking to Hammond as Garnett overheard.

 

"They will. Unless something happened, they should be fine." Garnett argued back, getting out of the truck and heading to Blake and Warren's side. "If we don't hear from them soon, we gotta head back."

 

"You don't think something happened, do you?" Warren asked, hushed between Garnett and Blake, but Murphy made sure that he could hear as well.

 

"Everything seemed locked up and well before we left. It's still the Apocalypse, so you can't just take the good side all the time." Garnett replied, gripping his gun as he looked between the two women.

 

"Try again." Blake tapped the radio that Warren was holding, leaning against the hood of the truck as she reached towards it. "If they're fine, they'll get back to us. Maybe they're out of contact at the moment."

 

Freaking manipulative woman.

 

God, he hated Blake with all of his reanimated life. Sending him back here and tricking the team into believing she was one of the good guys when she wasn't.

 

Despite what Blake said, Warren only shook her head, trying yet again the contact her camp. "Blue Sky; mobile one. Blue Sky; mobile one. Do you copy?"

 

The air felt thick as Hammond watched the trio at the front of the car; Murphy trying ever so slightly to move away from what he knew was about to happen.

 

They waited a few more moments in deadly silence, and as nothing came, Warren tapped the front of the truck, setting the radio down as she spoke. "We're heading back. Something must've happened."

 

"I don't think I can let you do that." Hammond replied louder, walking towards them as the duo turned around. Blake slid off the hood of the truck, making her way closer to Garnett and Warren as she cautiously tried to read the situation. Trying to figure out if this same scene happened before, or if it was all new.

 

"You sure as hell can't." Warren replied, walking further towards the man before Garnett stopped her-- speaking less harsh than she had.

 

"If something is wrong with my people, I don't give a damn about your mission." His words though? They weren't any nicer than Warren's. "Or you."

 

"We're going back." Warren commanded, pushing past Garnett as she headed to the driver's seat.

 

Again, she was stopped, but this time by Hammond's gun. "Look." Hammond started, Blake hesitantly raising her gun as well, trying to read off of Murphy how the situation would play out. She didn't seem to find anything, as she looked away from him and back to Hammond.

 

"I appreciate your loyalty to those folks. I do. But you don't know what I know about this man. Making him all the more important than what's happening back at your camp." He finished.

 

"And why should we believe a word you say?" Warren questioned, reaching for her gun ever so slowly as Garnett held his at his side-- ready but not aiming.

 

Hammond paused for a moment, staring between the two before turning he gazed at Murphy expectantly.

 

"No." Murphy started, backing away from Hammond. It wasn't so much as showing them that he was opposed to. It wasn't that bad, really. He just didn't want to.

 

Hammond had thrown him out of the car last time, but since he was already on the ground, Hammond didn't have the upper hand in that. What he was able to do though was pound his way over to Murphy, going to grab for him but Murphy was quick to get away.

 

"Show them!" Hammond yelled at him, aiming the gun to Murphy without the intent to kill but to threaten. "Show them why you're so goddamn important for all those good men to die for you."

 

Murphy grunted, grinding his teeth as he looked at Hammond, the two having a staring match before Murphy looked away-- giving in. "Fine."

 

Hammond broke the stare too, looking towards Warren, Garnett, and Blake as Murphy pulled up his shirt-- the scarred zombie bites showing through. With Murphy's gaze adverted from Hammond, he stared at the trio in front, gauging their reactions since he hadn't done so last time.

 

Garnett was the first to react, face turning from serious to shocked as his mouth hung open slightly. Blake's reaction held somewhat similar as her face morphed into the slightest of shock to actually seeing the marks. He knew that she knew about them, but getting the up-close image was a whole different story than just hearing about them.

 

Warren followed, a more confused look as she stared at the marks, then to Murphy's eyes as he stared back at her. "What happened?" She asked, not only shock and curiosity making its way into her voice, but also concern. One that he knew Warren hadn't shown often for all the years they knew each other.

 

"Those are zombie bites." Hammond spared Murphy a glance, quickly reverting his gaze away from Murphy's demolished chest. "Eight of them."

 

The whole situation felt uneasy. To Murphy, Hammond, Warren, and Garnett. Murphy couldn't gauge where Blake fit into it, seeing as how she knew, but had to act as if she didn't.

 

"Why is he still alive?" Warren questioned, tilting her head as she looked between Hammond, Murphy, and his mutilated chest.

 

"And not a zombie?" Garnett nearly growled, cocking his gun back and fixing to aim it on Murphy. It didn't distress Murphy all too much, however, it did do so to Hammond and Blake.

 

Blake moved up closer to Garnett, grabbing the barrel and pushing it down to the ground, looking at him with wide eyes. His already shocked and high alert faced morphed into even more curiosity by her actions, but she ignored it, staring back to Hammond who spoke, trying to calm down the situation even more.

 

"Hey." Once seeing the situation was calm enough to keep speaking, he continued. " He was given the only dose of an experimental vaccine right before he was bitten."

 

"Wouldn't that have been good to know sooner?" Blake asked, playing the part of being a clueless survivor rather than a time traveling Risen member.

 

Hammond adverted his gaze to her as Garnett let his gun fall to the side-- slightly less wary of the situation. " I figured we'd be able to make it out to my team before this exchange happened."

 

She shuffled a bit, moving a little way away from Garnett's side knowing he wasn't about to shoot her mission. "Would be good to know when you're in close proximity to someone's who's bitten and dead." Despite being in public with Hammond and the group, she did nothing to hold back the hatred they had for each other.

 

The last word seemed to take Hammond off guard, seeing as how 'dead' was either used for zombies or fully dead people. "He's alive enough to know the vaccine works." Hammond assured, the phrase of 'he's not going to bite you and turn you into a zombie' said enough.

 

 Murphy scoffed, dropping his shirt to cover up the bites. The cold wind rolling in starting to sting the open gashes. "Hard to really be alive when those bastards got my ribs and guts."

 

"Shut up. You're walking and talking. That's more than any of my men can say." Hammond chided, earning a light growl from Murphy as he looked over Hammond's scar.

 

"Like the ones that tried to kill us?" Not everyone was good in helping get him to California. Some more than others.

 

"They were tainted in their views. They still got us far enough." Hammond argued back, causing Murphy to roll his eyes. "You're looking at the only human known to have survived being bitten by a Zombie. His blood carries the antibodies for the ZN1 virus. If we can get him to the lab in California, they can use his blood and make more of the vaccine."

 

Murphy saw Blake suck in a breath at that, shuffling again as she glared at him. The exchange was short lived as the radio suddenly sprung to life, a new voice repeating over.

 

"Mayday. Mayday. Calling Camp Blue Sky."

 

Doc?

 

Murphy couldn't express how happy he was to hear the man's voice again, rushing over to the radio with Warren and Garnett, only to get a confused look by Hammond and a worried look from Blake.

 

"This is Doc. With Thompson and Carver. What is your situation? Over."

 

Garnett was first to pick up the radio, quick to communicate as Warren stood to the side of him. Murphy stood behind her, Warren sending him wary glances to why he seemed so intrigued. Blake was quick to occupy the space between Murphy and Warren, pushing him back farther so that he was closer to Hammond rather than the two (former? Prior?) members of his group.

 

"Hey, Doc. What's going on? What's going on?" Garnett asked, a certain urgency in his voice as he spoke rapidly. He sent a glance back to Warren-- both with a worried expression on their faces as they waited for Doc's answer.

 

"Garnett? Thank God you're alive. We thought everyone was dead."

 

Everyone is dead. Not that Murphy said that allowed, other than sending Blake a knowing glance, which she promptly decided to ignore.

 

Garnett didn't spare a glance to anyone though, quick to respond to Doc with his question. "I'm not at Camp Blue Sky. What's happening?"

 

He finally looked back to the others, a clear fear and worry shining through as Hammond motioned Murphy to come back closer to the truck. Murphy denied, holding up one hand as he listened to the rest of the conversation. Not that he needed to, rather just for the sake of hearing Doc's voice again. One--for a period of time-- he thought he would never hear again.

 

"Batteries…dying."

 

The whole radio communication was unintelligible besides the static and the slightest of something crackling that could be heard through the open communication. Doc's voice was barely noticeable from the static and mess-- causing more panic to Garnett.

 

"Wait. Say again." Nothing came through for a moment, causing Garnett to start to lose hope as he shot a glance to Warren and Blake. Hammond was already back at the truck as Murphy made his way there as well, figuring this whole scene was going to end the same way as last time.

 

After a moment, Doc spoke again, clearer than he had been before.

 

"Blue Sky has been overrun. The whole place is…on fire."

 

Warren sucked in a sharp breath, straightening up from against the truck as she paced a few steps forward. Blake just looked down to the ground, almost guiltily.

 

As she should be. Given, sure Murphy knew, but he hadn't been there long enough to save them. Blake? She had all the opportunities and chose to save no one except her daughter.

 

"Survivors?" Garnett asked, focusing only on the radio and cutting everything and everyone off around him.

 

"Well, there was a ton of gunfire a while ago, but nothing since."

 

At this point, the radio started to cut out as static overtook Doc's voice once more.

 

"Doc?" Garnett shook the radio a few times, repeating himself over as he waited.

 

"We've got to get back to them." Warren nodded as she spoke to Garnett, pointing a finger at Hammond who was about to object. "We'll get back to your mission after we make sure what's left of our people are alright." She spoke with a 'no room for arguments' tone which Murphy remembered all too vividly.

 

"Mission priority number one." Hammond nodded. "After your's." He added in agreement, much to Warren and Garnett's relief as they loaded up back in the truck.

 

Warren and Garnett took the front two seats: Hammond with Murphy in the back, and Blake taking the truck bed, much to Murphy's relief. Not that he would admit it aloud in front of Hammond, but he hoped that by how fast Garnett was driving, the Risen member would just fall off the back and be left to roll in the dirt.

 

Just one of Murphy's fantasies, but it seemed to be proven false as Blake barely budge from her spot that she was hanging on for her dear life from.

 

"Hold on!" Warren yelled, just in time for Murphy to grab the back of her seat and the roof of the car. It wasn't a second after that Warren rammed into four zombies on the road who were stalking Addy, Doc, and Mack.

 

The car jerked forward before making a complete stop, causing Blake to slam her head against the back of the truck with a desperate attempt to use her arms as cushions from a major blow to the skull.

 

"Dammit!" Blake cursed just as Garnett yelled for the trio to get into the truck as more zombies ran their way.

 

With seconds worth of hesitation, Addy and Mack jumped into the truck bed with Blake, while Doc hopped in from where Hammond opened the door.

 

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Mack yelled, hitting the side of the truck repeatedly as the zombies neared closer. Doc was barely able to shut the door as Garnett started to speed off, Mack shooting twice, and by what Murphy could see from looking through the back window that was open, managing to kill one and shoot the shoulder of another.

 

"How many more?" Garnett asked, leaning against the back of his seat as he looked at Doc, who was huffing breaths from running for his life.

 

"Nobody." Doc responded, breathless as he panted.

 

"Nobody?!" Warren repeated, panicked as she looked back over at the older man.

 

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Eyes on the road!" Murphy tapped the back of her seat, looking anxiously and ignoring her irritated look that she threw him. What? Wouldn't be the first time someone had looked off the road and managed to collide with a tree…or zombies. Besides, none of them were wearing seatbelts so if that were the case, Murphy was sure one of them would fly out the window.

 

And seeing as how Hammond was sitting in the middle…

 

"Nobody. I'm sure." Doc confirmed, looking between the two upfront--not even sparing a glance to Murphy or Hammond as he was caught up in the moments panic.

 

"Donna? Marion?" Garnett kept his voice calmer than Warren's but urgent all the same.

 

"No…there was no one. Not even time to show any of them mercy." Doc spoke rapidly, but a sense of solemn and grief was left with his tone as he spoke. Doc turned to face all of them, finally acknowledging Hammond and Murphy for a brief second. " There's nobody back there but z's. Sorry guys. We tried."

 

Garnett went silent for a second before turning back up to the front. "Nothing left for them now but God's mercy."

 

"It's time to go then. Come on." Hammond informed as Doc sent a questioning glance to the two of them.

 

"I'm sorry. Who are you again? I don't think I've seen either of you at Blue Sky." Despite the panic found in Doc's tone, it was gentle but cautious as well.

 

"You wouldn't have. They came to camp looking for help a little while after you three left." Warren informed but kept her eyes on the road like Murphy had asked before.

 

"Well glad to meet you. Came at the wrong time though." His joking fell short with the loss that it held as Doc motioned back to the brain eating freaks running after the vehicle.

 

"One hell of a time." Garnett agreed, sending a glance to Hammond before looking back up front. The inside of the truck went silent as the chattering outside in the truck bed could be heard.

 

Last time, it had been quiet in the back with only Mack and Addy whispering with one another. This time, with a third person, it became all the more louder, and despite himself, Murphy couldn't help but ease-drop.

 

If anything, it was to know more about what the diabolical Risen member was doing and talking about with his group.

 

"God, Blake. I'm so sorry. I couldn't see anyone, and I didn't even see Jen…" Addy was cut short from speaking as Blake hushed her, grabbing the red-head by the shoulders and nearly bringing her into a hug.

 

"I…I put Jenny at Silver-Tail earlier. She's safe. She's alright. I just-" Despite knowing the situation full well, Blake couldn't seem to find the words to describe it. Most things that she would say, would be considered lying.

 

' I didn't know this would happen' or ' She's safe because of a lucky chance.' No. She was safe because her mother chose to save her rather than the rest of the people. All the other children who now turned. Parents and grandparents. Everyone. So, the rest of what Blake was going to say fell dead on her lips as she hugged Addy, who (from what Murphy remembered) was all the more traumatized from this-- the situation only adding onto the list of unspoken problems she was burying.

 

While looking back with a scowl to Blake, he redirected his attention to Mack. He remembered the young adult-- not as well as the others seeing as how he had died so early, but enough to remember his face and personality. Of course, he looked younger, but not too much different from what he remembered.

 

Mack's blonde/brown hair was cut shorter, and he only had a stubble of a beard rather than a full grown one. His facial expression? All the same as what Murphy remembered him having. Serious and thoughtful at the same time with panic hinted behind it from their official zombie run experience.

 

Addy, however, (who had just released from the hug and was staring off into the distance) looked drastically different than from what Murphy remembered her to be. Younger always played a part, but her hair was back to being a more noticeable red color. It was still long, but tied back some, unlike the bangs that covered her one missing eye for so many years.

 

And that was another big thing different. She had both eyes again. No eyepatch or bangs hiding it. Just both eyes scanning the horizon with all the fear that the apocalypse offered to someone as young as her.

 

Guess he couldn't call her ' the one-eyed zombie slayer' anymore. Shame. ' The double eyed zombie slayer' just didn't have the same ring to it.

 

Blake turned back to him, a black and blue mark already forming on her forehead as she returned the scowl that he had been giving her. He only threw her a look in reply, and as if he got the last word, turned back to focusing on what was happening on the inside of the truck.

 

 As he remembered, it was so silent you could hear a zombie fart from a mile away. It was almost as if nobody dared to breathe. Even Doc's panting from prior had dwindled down as he leaned his head back against the seat, staring off into space as he looked at the roof.

 

And while it shouldn't come as a surprise anymore, it still did for Murphy. Both the man's white beard and hair were much shorter, and like always, was younger than what Murphy remembered seeing him as. Wasn't he almost sixty before all this time travel mania? Now what was he? Fifty? Fifty-one? Entirely crazy and hard to get used to.

 

Except now. This was his reality.

 

----line break---

 

After what felt like hours of driving, they had finally made it back to Sleepy Hollow High School, and as Murphy remembered, the rendezvous was still a no-go. While the buildings near it had lush grass growing, all that was found was dirt and sand as blood mixed into the bunch of it. Cars were crashed in the same places, mercied zombie bodies sprawled on the ground or hung caught on a fence.

 

Like most things in the apocalypse, the high school remained one that was run down and destroyed. Not much of a sight to look at, and definitely one to bring Hammond's hopes down for help to get to California…again.

 

Without a care, Murphy flung the door open first, getting out of the truck as Hammond followed. Blake, Addy, and Mack remained stationed in the truck bed as they scanned the perimeter.

 

Addy was recording the scene, something he had long forgot she did. Or, more-so had done. Again, time travel changed that, so she was still doing the action, and Murphy refused to comment on it at the moment.

 

"Get back in the truck." Hammond shoved him, but Murphy stood his ground, shoving slightly less against Hammond's force.

 

Hammond stopped in his tracks, turning around to Murphy. His irritated face pulling the y-shaped scar further up his face. Murphy grabbed the pistol from his side, showing it to Hammond as he stepped away from the truck and slammed the door.

 

"You gave me a gun for a reason. I don't need to be protected by waiting in the truck when I've handled myself this far." Murphy challenged, but Hammond wasn't letting it go.

 

"I and my men have been protecting you to get to this point. I'm not about to let you get shot or eaten when we've gotten this far." Hammond spared a glance back to the truck bed then Warren and Garnett. "I can't afford you running away again either. So, get in the truck."

 

Murphy remained stationed where he was though, besides taking one step back towards the truck. Hammond may have a point, but Murphy knew he wasn't a coward anymore. He knew how this would pan out, and that he could handle the situation coming up. Besides, Hammond sometimes trusted his judgement up to this point-- a lot more than he had last time. Shouldn't building up relationships manage to get him different outcomes and trust?

 

Satisfied only slightly by Murphy's attempt to move back to safety, Hammond made his way further into what looked like a battle zone. His gun raised and on high alert as he cautiously made his way over the demolished scene.

 

Murphy crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Hammond before he felt a presence looming above him. The shadow conveyed below him was a female's, but one that was tall-- so neither Addy nor Mack. That left the one and only Blake.

 

He grumbled, taking his focus off of Hammond for a moment as he shot Blake a glance. She looked down to him as if she were high and mighty, and Murphy made it his goal to move away from her and the truck. Sure, it consisted of going against Hammond's orders, but Murphy knew he was more help away from the truck, then by it.

 

Not that anything except the baby was going to harm them, but still. Murphy would take the zombie baby over Blake any time.

 

Hammond made no call back after he shot the upper half of a zombie, mercying it where it crawled. He made his way back to the truck, his mood drastically different and down, as he shoved Murphy back over to the car.

 

"I told you to wait in the truck." Hammond nearly growled.

 

"Didn't wanna." Murphy shrugged, retreating from the pushing and moving away from the truck and closer to where Warren and Garnett were standing in the front. "Besides. I figured you'd need more than one gun if this place is littered with z's."

 

"We don't know that yet." Hammond denied, looking through the windows in hopes that he would see someone alive.

 

"So they're all dead?" Warren asked, heading closer to the building as she held her weapon out in front of her.

 

Hammond sighed, pacing a bit before responding. "Looks to be. We'll check the inside to see if they're hiding out, but from the looks of it…" Hammond trialed off as Addy, Mack, and Blake hopped off the back of the truck and started to make their way over. "We need to make a quick search of any survivors and any supplies." Hammond commanded, getting back on track with what he said and how he acted before-- diverting from the brief period of difference that happened again due to Murphy (and Blake's) interactions.

 

Hammond turned to Murphy, whose gun was at his side, but not really worried in the case that he would have to use it anytime soon. Soon, as in, a few minutes, but that was still a long time of peace in the Apocalypse. "Stay close to me."

 

"Whatever you say, Y." Murphy replied, heading over to Hammond's side as the man grumbled in reply to the nickname.

 

"Hey." Addy piped-up, heading over to Warren and Garnett as Doc and Mack followed--Blake slowly taking up the rear, but still shocking to Murphy. His memory wasn't all too great of all the minor details, but he was sure the trio had stayed in the truck last time. Did Blake say something to get them to move away from the truck?

 

"What happened to all the zombies?" Addy asked, stopping in her tracks as she got close to the Sargent and Lieutenant.

 

"Movin' on, like locust." Doc replied, looking around for any signs of the walking dead before stopping near the red-head.

 

"Yeah, but they'll be back." Hammond started before Blake interrupted.

 

"Why though?" Her question caused the others to look back towards her, causing her some discomfort. "I mean, why'd they leave? If survivors are here, they'll be considered food and the zombies would stay. All we got here, " She kicked some dirt beneath her feet, ignoring Murphy as she made her way beside Mack. "-Is a desolated desert and the shell of a school."

 

She explained, causing Hammond to shake his head.  "I don't have doubts my team is dead, but I'm sure there's still stragglers hanging around in the case that something is still alive around here. That doesn't mean that the movement of the horde affected supplies."

 

Hammond turned to Garnett and Warren, addressing them before he spoke. " Clear out the building." He pointed back to the school before looking over to the four standing beside Warren.

 

"You four," He pointed to them as he spoke. "Check the vehicles. In case we still got some lonesome zombies or supplies." He added, nodding to Blake before he grabbed Murphy by the shoulder. "And you."

 

"Yeah, yeah. Stay with you." Murphy interrupted, following behind Hammond as he paid more attention to Warren and Garnett than walking in a straight line.

 

The zombie baby is coming up. They're about to find him. Hammond's about to die.

 

Besides taking the baby over Blake, Murphy wouldn't say he was a fan of watching Hammond die. Surprisingly, the man had grown on him more than he had last time. And having to watch his death all over? He couldn't do that. Not with the knowledge he had now.

 

He pushed past Hammond, getting an indignant and agitated 'hey!' from the man as Murphy ran in front of Warren and Garnett. The two raised their guns in alarm at him before confusion took over to what he was doing.

 

"Don't go over there!" Murphy nearly yelled, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender. If they never met the baby, nobody would die.

 

"Murphy! Get your ass over here!" Hammond shouted, making his way over to Murphy as the two lowered their guns from aiming at him.

 

"Why?" Garnett asked, walking towards Murphy before he stopped him.

 

"Don't." Murphy repeated again. He didn't hear any cries from the infant, but what did he know? Maybe the child already turned and was stalking them from under the cars. "Unless you want to get your face ripped apart by a baby zombie."

 

From the commotion he was making; Doc, Mack, Addy, and Blake stopped what they were doing as they watched him. Blake, more surprised than confused, since she knew he was using his knowledge of the future.

 

"Zombie baby?" Warren asked, raising her gun again as Hammond pushed past her and up to Murphy. "You heard it?"

 

"Well…" Is telling them he had a feeling the baby was there considered a white lie? " -yes." Full lies work too.

 

Blake raised her eyebrow, slowly making her way over to Murphy, but Addy stopped her, pulling her back as the red-head looked around for signs that the Demon Child was roaming around. Hammond tilted his head, challenging Murphy on his declaration, before giving in and taking his word for it.

 

The man pushed passed Murphy, gun raised in case the baby popped out of nowhere, but Murphy stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?"

 

"You said you heard it." Hammond motioned to the cars. "If so, I'm gonna kill it so we don't have to worry."

 

Okay. Maybe this plan wasn't as thought out as he hoped.

 

"Let me check." Murphy raised his pistol before Hammond shoved him back some. The man ready to object before Murphy spoke again. "Since I know where the sound came from." Murphy added in hopes to persuade the man.

 

With an unfaithful look, Hammond reluctantly nodded giving Murphy confirmation, but still following behind just in case. Warren and Garnett moved back some, scoping out the area and remain protection to the four behind them. Cautiously, Murphy moved between the trucks before making it to the one he assumed Warren had been at previously.

 

That is, the one slammed into the side of the school with a metal fence on top of it and broken windows all throughout it. There were no cries, but there wasn't any gurgling either, causing Murphy to look all around him to where the zombie could be. He finally made it to the back window of the car, slowly peeking through, but as the whole inside of the car came into view, his fear spiked higher.

 

The baby wasn't in the car.

 

The driver was still dead-- the impact of driving into the school killing her in an instant. There were no signs that a zombie made it into the car nor that one made it out. The seatbelt buckle where the infant was last time was undone, and Murphy knew that no matter the zombie (besides maybe a Talker) nothing-- and to say a baby-- was that smart when dead.

 

"It's gone." Despite the disbelief found in his words, a growing fear was also heard as he turned to face Hammond, then the group and Blake farther up from the school.

 

Hammond peeked in as well, taking in the dead driver and unbuckled car seat. He sucked in a breath, nodding his head as he dragged Murphy to the others. "Be on high alert. Besides regular Z's, we might just have a baby one running around here."

 

"Oh jeez. Another thing to mark off my bucket list." Doc commented sarcastically, motioning Addy, Blake, and Mack to follow him to finish their search for supplies.

 

----line break---

Cassandra's POV:

 

Ever since she saw the one person roaming around on the roofs earlier this morning, she hadn't moved much from her position in fear that it was one of Tobias's men. The stranger had killed four zombies surrounding her cage, but they hadn't made an attempt to come and get her. They sort of just…left.

 

Well, more like got scared and left, but ever since this morning, she had been on high alert in the case that that person had went back to get Tobias. So as more zombies accumulated around her cage, and as she heard multiple people killing zombies, Cassandra couldn't help but fear that the guy had called for backup with Tobias leading the pack.

 

She made sure her knife was tight in her grip as she listened. She didn't dare move from her spot, much less breathe, as she waited and listened.

 

"Hey." A male sounding voice called. She didn't recognize it, but it wasn't uncommon for new cannibals to be added to the group by Tobias's choosing. Maybe this was the man she had saw up on the roof earlier?

 

The man pounded on the metal, but Cassandra refused to look up. "Hey. You alright?" He asked. It wasn't a moment after that she heard shuffling and then the lock on the cage being pried off before falling to the ground.

 

Oh God. He was coming in here?

 

She prepared herself more to attack, listening carefully to how close the man was getting.

 

"Careful. She might be dead." A new, feminine voice spoke. She sounded gentle but cautious to the man, but her voice didn't sound familiar to Cassandra either.

 

"Zs wouldn't be after her if she was dead." Another female voice spoke, older and more worried than the younger female's voice.

 

"Yeah, but we don't know that yet. She could be freshly dead and all." An older man's voice chimed in, and Cassandra couldn't deny how much she didn't recognize them. Tobias wouldn't send new people out to fetch her, would he?

 

And while Cassandra knew it was entirely possible that these people didn't even know a man named Tobias, she still couldn't help but question why they would waste their time on trying to help her out of a cage. She heard and felt the man lean down next to her, but the second he went to touch her, Cassandra knew it was now or never. Nobody would touch her again. Tobias's men or not.

 

She sprang up, knife against the man's throat as she pushed him against the metal bars of the cage. The younger and older females both tried to calm her down as the man beneath her grip struggled to get free, but the knife on his throat was removing him of the option.

 

Cassandra looked him over, and even scanning him, she didn't recognize a single thing about him. He didn't even look like the stranger on the roof earlier…Why was it that today random strangers supposedly were trying to help her?

 

The older man started to laugh, cutting through the younger girl's 'heys' as he spoke. "Well, she ain't dead."

 

"Hey. Hey. It's okay. It's okay. We're good people. We just saved you." The younger girl spoke, and despite her assurances, Cassandra only shot them a quick glance at her choice of wording.

 

Nobody was ever good. Not in the apocalypse anyway. And they hadn't saved her; she had been fine on her own with the zombies surrounding her until she awaited death by starvation or something else.

 

Maybe she didn't want to be saved. To be forced back out there, and to have to possibly face Tobias and his cannibal family again.

 

"Okay, don't hurt him." The younger female breathed out, continuing her attempts at calming her. The man raised his hands in surrender-- his face neutral but calm with panic and fear hinted in his eyes. His movements were slow to not alarm her as if she were a caged, ferocious animal.

 

And maybe she was.

 

Slowly, she released her grip from him, moving the knife away from his throat, but making sure that she could easily kill him if they decided to make a counterattack on her. Cassandra took a moment, swallowing as she breathed deeply, still on high alert around the four strangers.

 

"Sorry." She started. After all, she had almost killed him, and she didn't want them to kill her in response to her actions. "I didn't know where I was." Although not fully true, she didn't have to explain herself in full detail. "I must have fallen asleep." If they thought it was a split-second panic response, they might let her go.

 

"Asleep?" The older man asked. " How long you in this cage for?"

 

Longer than she would've liked. "Two days." She finally replied only to be answered by their solemn or sympathetic looks.

 

She didn't need their pity to something like this. They barely even knew her! For all they knew, she could've deserved this--probably did deserve this for everything that she had done up to this point.

 

"Why don't you come out of the cage and with us?" The older woman offered, motioning to the door of the cage that the man was slowly making his way out of. "We got some water if you need it?"

 

As much as she would love to have that, Cassandra wasn't sure she could trust it. Could she trust them? No, she couldn't, but given the situation, she didn't think they would just let her roam free anyways.

 

Slowly, she nodded, following them back to the entrance of the school that felt so long ago that she passed by to get into that cage. They immediately seated her as she was greeted to a bunch of diverse people throughout the room. Despite the panic and how thick the air was in the room, she couldn't help but scan the bunch, praying that she wouldn't see a familiar face.

 

None of them looked familiar to her, but she did find something familiar about them. Throughout her time coming across people back with Tobias, she had meant a bunch of men with different stories and tales that they would sometimes flaunt to her. Each one was different, and while it wasn't so much as the over-exaggerated stories that she focused on, it was more-so their eyes.

 

Not all of them, but some, would have eyes that told a different story. Like they were older than the age that they looked or knew something so deep and different that it didn't match what they conveyed at all. Two people in the room at the moment held that same stare. Where their eyes showed age beyond their body and knowledge before the appropriate time.

 

It was rare to see that, and especially rare to see two people in the same place with the same type of look. Cassandra had only seen it three times, excluding this time, and while she knew it meant something, she couldn't quite ever figure out what.

 

"Here." She was snapped out of it by the man dressed in military gear handing her a water bottle. Hesitantly, she took it, gulping it down like it was her lifeline once in her grasp. The man pulled it away all too soon, tossing it over to the younger red-headed girl who had talked to her while in the cage.

 

The man redirected his attention back to Cassandra. "Why would somebody lock you in a cage and leave you to die? What did you do?"

 

Maybe she did it herself.

 

"I didn't do anything…I locked myself in the cage for protection." She decided to answer honestly at that part.

 

"You have the keys?" The man asked, causing Cassandra to shut her mouth for a moment to decide how she wanted to word it. She had thrown the key away to keep herself from leaving, so in essence, she had lost them-- just not in the way the man thought.

 

"I lost them." She answered, short and simple to keep from revealing too much as to why or how.

 

The military man tilted his head as the African American lady across the room spoke to her. "Why are you dressed like that?"

 

She didn't have to talk to these people. They didn't know what her life was like during this zombie hell, and she didn't have to tell them. She remained no threat to them just as she remained no responsibility to them.

 

"I don't have to justify myself to you."

 

"Maybe you do!" The military man cut in, raising his voice as he bent down to her level. "We were supposed to meet the men in those vehicles. What happened here?" The man asked, harsher in his tone as he questioned her again.

 

Cassandra knew she wouldn't be getting out of the situation without answering the questions, so, to some, she decided to answer as truthfully as she could.

 

"Those men showed up about a week ago. They cleared out the school and set up some kind of camp. But word got out that there was food." Real food. "Lots of it from the bomb shelter. Yeah, it didn't take long. There was too many people. The soldiers shot some of the locals, and that brought the z's. You can guess the rest." She finished, watching as the others in the room paced.

 

The military man nodded his head, walking away as he glanced over at the ratty looking man leaning against the wall in the corner. "Helps a no-go then."

 

"Told ya." The man against the wall responded, causing the military man to glare at him before returning his gaze back to her.

 

"And you were just here to get food?"

 

No and yes but complicated all the same.

 

 "I heard of it but got here by the end. Everyone was either shot or turned before I could make it into the building to get a share of the rations." And so she just happened to lock herself in a cage after that for protection. Most of how the story went anyways.

 

The military man paced a bit, looking throughout the room and then back to her. "We can take you to the next safe outpost and be on our way from there. They fall in the same line of direction anyhow." The man deduced, and before she could object to the plan made, the African American woman began to speak.

 

"Puppies and kittens. 200 yards away."

 

Despite the warning and a few others in the room preparing for whatever that meant, her and the military man were left in the dark to what that code meant.

 

"Zombies." The white man with a brown hair and beard answered.

 

Odd name for something so deadly.

 

"All right everybody. Time to go. You five, " He motioned Cassandra's and the other four who had 'saved' hers way. "- I want you to gather all the food and weapons you can find. Load them in the truck. The keys are still inside."

 

"Hey!" The man who she had pinned against the cage yelled at the military man. "We haven't talked about this."

 

"We can talk about it later. Right now, you do what I tell you." The military man responded back; voice raised as much as the younger man's.

 

Cassandra guessed some of these people hadn't known or become acquainted with one another yet, leaving them to be more dysfunctional and higher in chance for there to be a failure of command.

 

"Garnett! Warren! You two help me start up that deuce and a half, while keeping an eye on Murphy here." He gestured over to the one man (Murphy) who made his way over to the military man. "And you stay by my side. The whole time." The man emphasized to Murphy.

 

"Everybody meets back here in five minutes." The military man started to walk out the door, but nobody within the vicinity moved to follow on command, so he circled back around to them with an incredulous look on his face.

 

"Go!" He yelled louder, but most of the others in the room only looked to Garnett for confirmation, which the man gave.

 

"Do it." He nearly whispered to them, following Warren, Murphy, and the military man out the door. Cassandra got up as well, following the other four back outside of the school.

 

She trailed behind the rest, and for a couple moments, she was left alone before the ginger-haired older female slowed so she was by her. Cassandra sent her a wary glance, trying to ignore the female's hovering behind her, but it was made entirely impossible as the lady spoke.

 

"I'm Blake, by the way." The lady (Blake) introduced as she gestured up to the other three. "That's Doc, Addy, and the man who you threatened with a knife-- that's Mack." She motioned to each of them, turning back to Cassandra with an expecting face.

 

Cassandra only nodded, going back to looking for supplies as Blake waited for an answer. Knowing that she wasn't going to get Blake to leave unless she answered her question, Cassandra responded as she made her way towards where Doc, Addy, and Mack were.

 

 "Cassandra." She introduced, getting on odd reaction from Blake. The woman seemed to stumble for a moment before nodding her head and follow Cassandra to the other four.

 

Did she also mention that those who had the odd eyes were also the weirdest in certain situations? With names to their persons, Blake and Murphy were the two that had those certain types of looks in their eyes. Knowing and hiding, and from it came to oddest of reactions--ones that she couldn't gauge why.

 

They made their way through the carcasses scattered around the place, checking to make sure they were fully dead and to see if they carried any supplies. They had been lucky to find a few guns, a dying flashlight, and a few other things from the first couple dead zs that they came across.

 

Doc, however, noticed something sticking out from the zombie's chest, and had gone to go grab it. The second he moved whatever it was that impaled the zombie, it sprung to life, attacking Doc and leaving the others without a clear shot to assure Doc's safety and the zombie's mercy.

 

"Shoot him! Shoot him!"

 

"I can't! I don't have a clear shot!"

 

"Kill it!"

 

"Stand still!"

 

Despite all the movement and yelling and hollering it did no justice in getting the zombie away from Doc enough to kill it. Blake had been right up on the zombie, ready to hold it down by the shoulders before a shot rang above the yelling and a hole was blown through the zombie's head like a rifle shooting a pumpkin.

 

It took everyone a moment or so before they looked to where the shot came from.

 

Sitting on the ledge of the school with a hood over his head was the same man she had saw prior this morning. With his sniper, he was quick to pick up and leave, trying to get away from them as quick as possible.

 

"Hey!" Cassandra called, running up to the roof, but by that time, he had already disappeared down the side.

 

She had thought that he had left hours ago after his little fright he had when seeing her. Instead, it looked like he stayed around, and if that be the reason, she wanted to know why. Why was he helping then running? She didn't think he was a part of Tobias's men, but how could she be so sure?

 

---line break----

Murphy's POV:

 

There are certain things that scare Murphy. Being in small spaces, zombies eating his chest, getting kidnapped, and not to mention being forced into being a human pincushion to save humanity. Twice.

 

There was enough to be scared about, and the fear of change for worse and the unknown could just be added onto that list. They were able to start up the tactical cargo truck without any problems (minus a few Z's that were easily mercied), and after they headed back to meet up with the rest of the group, everyone was fine.

 

Even Blake, much to Murphy's despair.

 

None of them had a run-in with the Devil Child besides Doc getting attacked by a zombie, only to be saved by an anonymous sniper.

 

Murphy had a good guess who that was.

 

Other than that though, nobody was hurt severely, and Hammond didn't die. Something that should have come as a proud moment to Murphy, but instead had him feeling a sense of worriedness. This had been the first thing that he officially changed that ranged on a greater scale. Hammond hadn't died, and the group were all alive and together again. Because Hammond wasn't gone, that left the group with less of a feeling of obligation to take him to California. Because Hammond is still alive, a bigger problem was starting to show itself.

 

Murphy could easily lose the group from saving one person's life.

 

He hadn't expected that, and the unknown of what was about to happen, and the change to that, left Murphy fearing it more than he ever had in the past…or future.

 

"If we leave now, we should be able to make it to the Tappan Zee bridge by tomorrow." Hammond started, walking closer to the trucks as he waited for the others to follow.

 

"We never said that we were coming with you." Warren emphasized back, eyeing Hammond as she stayed rooted in her spot like all the others.

 

Dammit. Murphy hadn't been planning for this.

 

Blake's eyes widened as she looked at Warren, before she turned her attention to Murphy. Easily, she could see his fear to the situation, and Murphy knew that she understood that this hadn't happened last time.

 

"You have no obligation to, Lieutenant." Hammond agreed, nodding Murphy's way. "You helped us get this far, and that's all I asked for."

 

"So what? You just get our truck?" Mack asked, bitter in his words as he spoke to Hammond-- glaring at the man.

 

"I can take the deuce and a half. The truck's all yours." He nodded to Garnett as the Sargent thought it over, tapping his finger subtly against his side as he looked over at Warren, then to the rest of them.

 

God, this was not supposed to happen.

 

"Come on Murphy. We can still make it there if we head out now." Hammond motioned, turning to Cassandra. "You can tag along 'til we get to the next outpost?" He asked, gaining a hesitant nod from her before they both headed for the cargo truck.

 

The action left Murphy planted there in shock and Blake startled as neither made a move to get to their group. No--his group. This had happened because Hammond hadn't died. The group had taken the risk to try to get him to California last time. Not separate!

 

"Wait!" Murphy huffed out surprised, glancing between Hammond and his group who were retreating to the cars. "We can't just leave them!?"

 

"And why not?" Hammond asked, suspiciously looking at Murphy.

 

"Because-" He was cut short as Hammond's radio started to crackle to life.

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta. This is Camp Northern Light. Delta-Xray-Delta. Come in."

 

Murphy wasn't sure if he should count Simon interrupting through the radio as a win or not.

 

"What is that?" Warren asked, looking around before Hammond shushed everyone, pulling the radio from his side-pocket and answering.

 

"This is Delta-Xray. Over." Hammond spoke, waiting for a response as he motioned Murphy to come back to his side. Still in the thought process that they would be leaving the group right after he hears what Simon has to say.

 

"I thought you said you lost contact with anyone for weeks?" Garnett accused, now directing his attention to Hammond as the Lieutenant held up his hand again to quiet everyone.

 

"Copy you Delta-Xray. Who--who am I speaking to?" Simon asked, wary slightly, but Murphy could pick up in his voice that it was more of a precaution in case someone else got the radio and sounded oddly similar to Hammond.

 

"This is Lieutenant Hammond." He responded, avoiding eye contact as he listened.

 

"Hey!" Simon sounded incredibly joyful to the news. " It's been a long time, sir. I thought you didn't make it. Is the package all right?"

 

When would people stop calling him by that name? Well…he knew the answer to that, but he hadn't liked the fact that the name had been gone so long, only to be brought up again.

 

"I'm fine and will ya stop calling me that." He didn't care if he sounded snippy to the name. It always felt as if it were used to undermine him as a human being and turn him into this inanimate object needing to be set in a certain location.

 

"Sorry." Simon apologized quickly, reverting the conversation back to Hammond. "Have you made it to the rendezvous, yet?"

 

Hammond sighed, off of contact so Simon wouldn't hear, as he looked around at the abandoned school/rendezvous. "We have. It was overrun by zombies. No one's left." He informed.

 

"Yeah, I figured so." It was whispered so quietly under Simon's breath that Murphy had barely picked it up. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he know that the rendezvous had been overrun both this and last time? "Listen. I got news from the CDC. The lab has been…"

 

Simon started to cut out, the batteries dying on the radio as the static and crackling started to overtake his voice.

 

"Northern Light. I did not copy." Hammond replied, but it seemed as though Simon hadn't got the memo as his voice kept cutting in and out.

 

"--run…new coordina--Still in Califor--" 

 

"I did not copy. I repeat. I did not copy." Hammond repeated, lightly hitting the bottom of the radio as his face pulled up into a frustrated look. His effort to get it to work was useless as Simon's voice became muffled before slowly dying out from static, to nothing at all.

 

"Batteries dead." Hammond reported aloud, tucking the radio back into his side-pocket.

 

"What was that about?" Doc asked, gesturing to the radio and then to Murphy.

 

"Yeah, and what does he mean by 'The Package'?" Addy joined in as well, eyeing Murphy.

 

Oh right. Last time, after Hammond had died, Warren and Garnett had explained as much of the situation as they could to the group, before Simon had told them most of the rest. This time, that hadn't happened, and left four of nine to be left clueless in this situation.

 

"They're on a mission to California to hopefully develop a cure with that guy's blood. That's about all they told us." Garnett answered, looking back to Hammond.

 

"And that's all I can tell you." He lifted his head, gazing around the group before again motioning for Cassandra and Murphy. "It's time to go." He turned back around to the others, ignoring Murphy and Blake's worried stares as he spoke. "If you'd liked to tag along to the next outpost, I can provide transport that far."

 

Warren shook her head, about to decline as Addy butted in. "Silver-Tail?" She asked.

 

"No. That's the opposite way. Some ways into Ohio is Home-Falls. It's said to be one of the safest." Hammond informed, causing the others to scrunch their eyebrows. Even Murphy. He hadn't heard of Home-Falls before when they traveled through Ohio. Then again, they hadn't been looking for a safe spot at that time. Rather, they had been more focused on finding a helicopter to shorten the journey and get off of Hell's Highway.

 

"Haven't heard of that one." Doc tilted his head to the side, questioning Addy and Mack who stood right next to him.

 

"It's your choice." Hammond returned his questioning look back between Garnett and Warren-- having a hard time figuring out which to consult with as the leader.

 

Warren turned a questioning look back to Garnett, leaving the decision up to him. He returned the same stare as he looked down towards her. "We don't have a camp anymore, but I can't see Ohio as our best bet." He reasoned.

 

Blake seemed nearly on the edge with being anxious as she twirled her fingers together and kept looking between Warren, Garnett, and Murphy. Finally, she cracked, seeing as how she would lose her mission if she didn't say something.

 

"We don't have a location yet." She walked up towards them, lowering her voice to a whisper as she joined in on their consulting. "If we stick with them a little longer, we might have better chances at where to stay." She turned her head slightly to the old, beat-up pickup truck that they were all standing beside. "And maybe find a better truck that could last us."

 

Murphy wasn't sure if he should be happy that she was manipulating the situation to keep them together or not. He knew that it was probably the Risen's plan to keep the team together so that they had a better chance of survival (Murphy doubted that though), and as much as he wanted to stop her from keeping the Risen's goals in line, he didn't think he should.

 

If they were all able to stay together, and if he could exclude Blake and the Risen from the picture, the group and him would be free from their reign of control. But that meant that he had to have the group with him and not away from him.

 

Garnett spared a glance over to the truck, before reverting his attention back to the conversation. "I don't know. Traveling with them seems like a suicide mission. Even if it's just for a little while. We were fine on our own before we meant them." He reasoned, much to the two Time-Traveler's worries.

 

"Besides," Warren added, an intense and worried stare on Blake as she spoke. "You have a daughter to get back to." She reminded, and Murphy could see how Blake's face immediately scrunched up with a sense of panic.

 

"I know. I left her with…well, Nakia back at Silver-Tail. She's taking care of her for now. I'll make it back to her, but I'd want to make it back in one piece with enough gas to get us there." She again turned her attention back to the truck, quickly watching Murphy but making sure the action was subtle so no one else saw.

 

Warren placed her hands on her hips, staring up to Garnett as if her mind was already set, but was waiting to see what he had to say. "What do ya think, Leader." She nodded towards him, a determined look on his face as he looked amongst the group then back to Hammond.

 

"We'll stick with you 'til we get a better vehicle. Nothing too far in lengths though." He added, causing a fear to spike in Murphy.

 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. He really hadn't thought this through, had he?

 

"Not a problem." Hammond confirmed, nodding to the truck again with a face that clearly displayed, 'Are we able to go now?'

 

Murphy nodded back to him, agreeing that he was happy (even though he was more nervous than happy) to how the situation played out, and was willing to follow the command given. They all piled in the three cars, each taking a seat. The placement was different than last time though.

 

Addy and Blake had gotten in the deuce and a half with Hammond this time, and while Murphy was more of one to want to make sure she didn't do any harm to his group members, he also didn't want to be in the same car as her for the whole ride. Seeing as how he figured Addy would be safe with Hammond (who Murphy knew to not be manipulated easily) he felt a little more comfortable leaving the red-head with him.

 

So, without being by Hammond (which took a whole heck-of-a-lot of convincing on Murphy's end), Murphy had taken to sitting in the back of the truck as Doc and Cassandra took the front. It was more than awkward in the car this time being with the two, as Doc took to joking one or two times before getting less than a reaction from Cassandra, who had stared absent-mindedly out the windshield.

 

Warren, Garnett and Mack took the last car that they had been able to revive and were taking the middle. Hammond was upfront leading since he knew where most locations would be for the mission, so that left Doc to take the rear. Not that Murphy would say he would complain, and while he was overjoyed to be by two people he had known throughout the apocalypse, (and two who had both been his blends) he couldn't help but worry about being too far away from the group, and Blake being closer than he was.

 

If she tried anything to harm them or to gain an upper hand like the Risen had tried, Murphy wouldn't hesitate in not concealing that he was the one to kill her. He wouldn't care at that point. Didn't now, really.

 

He wasn't sure how long he had been lost in his thoughts while everyone was loading in the trucks but seeing as how the school was still in view by the time Doc started to slow the car, Murphy would guess that it hadn't been long. The truck slowly inched forward as Doc let up on the gas to nearly stop beside a figure walking alongside the road.

 

The figure was walking slowly, head up but trying to act as if he didn't see or hear the cars that had passed. 10K tried to veer off to the side, keeping a side-eye on the slowing truck as he shifted his gun down his makeshift gear of apocalypse clothing and closer to his side. He seemed much more wary of them than he had last time, and it was one of the things that threw Murphy off.

 

Doc stopped right beside him, and finally 10K turned to look at the approaching vehicle, the rifle now in his grasp in the case that an attack was about to occur. He didn't make any movements towards or away from them, nor did he talk as he watched-- a certain fear mixed within his neutral face that Murphy hadn't remembered seeing before.

 

Like all the other times when seeing his group again, it was all the more odd to see 10K as well. Murphy remembered him as a young adult-- adult even back at Toivo. Now though, with all those times they had called 10K 'Kid' by a nickname, Murphy was reminded why. He looked so young compared to the last time Murphy had saw him; with shorter jet-black hair and younger features. Just a teenager.

 

Definitely odd and different coming from a man who remembered everything of the future.

 

"Hey." Doc started, finally pulling the truck right beside 10K as both stopped-- the two cars in front heading off without them without knowing that Doc had stopped. "Hey there." Doc's voice came with more of a remembrance as he spoke; 10K shifting so that everyone within the truck was in his full view. Although, he only spared them a quick glance, before keeping his focus on Doc.

 

"You're that sharp shooter that saved my ass, aren't you?"

 

Despite the question, 10K remained silent.

 

"Oh man. I want to thank you." Doc sounded genuine in his response, showing how entirely grateful he was to being spared the life of a ravenousness Z. "Do you need a ride?" He pointed towards 10K, asking carefully as he waited for a response.

 

10K seemed to think it over, a more cautious look on his face as he finally directed his attention to the other occupants in the vehicle. He didn't seem to show any reaction, other than for a sort of knowing look in his eyes as he looked over Cassandra. The girl had the same look, concealing it less than him, but refusing to speak outright on it.

 

10K then turned to look at Murphy, his eyebrows scrunching up some as 10K looked him over. To say it was odder than seeing the kid alive again, seemed fairly right to describe the situation. 10K's reaction to this whole scenario seemed like he remembered, but didn't, and Murphy knew that was entirely impossible to happen given what the Risen had said.

 

Murphy wanted to point to the different reaction caused from something him or Blake had done throughout their time together in the group, but he was sure none of it would've directly affected 10K seeing as how he hadn't even been with them.

 

It took a moment before 10K shrugged. Jumping into the truck bed and hitting the side to alert that he was ready and they could move. Doc only shook his head and laughed quietly to himself, racing to catch up to the others who were far down the road without them; all the while, Simon's voice echoing through the radio before he decided to play some music.

 

And now with the whole group back together, Murphy would try with all his will to keep them that way.

Notes:

I know this is early, but since it is hard to receive an answer, I don't want to wait until the last minute.

IMPORTANT:

If anyone has any suggestions on something they would like to see; please ask. Also, again I know it is early and the story hasn't fully developed, but I can't come up with any good ideas for "Murphy's Law." I don't want to do a repeat.

Anything you would like to read? Nothing romantic though, please, if anyone chooses to respond. Thank you.

Coming Soon:
Puppies and Kittens (Part Three)

IGNORE THE NOTES BELOW THIS TALKING ABOUT HOLIDAYS AND START AND FINISH. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET RID OF IT.

Chapter 8: Puppies and Kittens (Part Three)

Summary:

Overview: Thomas is used to traveling alone and has been doing pretty well from it. With a risky adventure to gather more supplies, he manages to change his plans for lack of better or for worse.

Notes:

Another part? Even though the first one covered all of episode one? How can this be?

Guess you'll have to read to find out! ;)

10K's POV:

 

The sun overhead shone down across the abandoned landscape, heating the ground and casting shadows in various areas. The dead lurked in alleyways, or just out in the plain open almost as if they were offering people an invitation to kill them.

 

Or they could just be looking for a fresh meal, but Tommy liked the first one. One more Z was another kill to his count. One more Z meant the life of another person was saved. Meant that he might just survive another day. All on his own. With no one around but the dead to keep him company…

 

He kicked to dirt beneath his feet, creating a dust cloud that rose in rhythm with the wind.

 

The dead weren't that bad of company, really. Despite wanting to eat your brains and turn you into one of them, they ain't the worst thing to be around. It wasn't like they had unpredictable actions. They charge toward you, try to eat you alive, grab you, the list could go on, but it was nothing like what some humans would do.

 

Tommy hadn't really meant anyone that would take it to the extreme to hurt people; that would hurt fellow survivors, but he had come across a fair share of people similar. Sure, he hadn't meant the nicest of groups as he traveled along, but he never met ones that would use a taser on you. Tommy spent most of his time observing, watching carefully and not talking like other people did. From this, he got the advantage. He was able to learn this way anyway, and on top of that, he didn't have to really speak to anyone.

 

It was a win, win.

 

He was able to pick up the tales of what other people were saying around him. Of what was going on in the world around them. How far people have traveled; who has died. He heard what people were like too. Of course, there were ones out there that would inflict pain on you just for the fun of it. Tommy never knew why though. He supposed without anyone to enforce rules (most of those people were dead) folks could get away with anything they wanted. They could kill, hurt, rape, all that horrible stuff. That was what he picked up when listening to those around him.

 

The main point? The world was a messed-up place.

 

He sighed as he carried along with his walking. He wanted to make it to the high school early to scavenge for supplies. He was running low on food and water. Ammo was fairly decent, but he tried to cut back from using an enormous amount of it by killing Z's with his slingshot. It wasn't the best for very long distances, but it lasted him this far. But ammo wasn't the real worry at this point. Starving and dehydrating himself to death was the problem, and he hoped the high school accommodated for those needs.

 

Tommy wanted to make this a quick trip anyway. Get there then get as far away as possible. He didn't want any unfortunate run-ins with another group. That would only ensue trouble. He would know, both experience wise and dream wise.

 

He stopped in his tracks for a second as a zombie stalked its way toward him. He pulled out his slingshot and readied a gear in place. Aiming at the head, he took a deep breath steadying his arm before releasing. It lodged into the brain, making the zombie fall down to the ground lifeless and still as it should be. Mercy given.

 

956

 

The dream came to mind again as he jogged past the dead body and rounded a corner. He had it, say maybe a night ago. Very real and vivid. It actually made him think that it was real. It wasn't of course because he startled awake on top of a grocery store roof.

 

As much as he remembered at this point, it had taken place at a high school. One he had been planning on heading to for days now. He supposed that it was paranoia getting the best of him at this point, but it didn’t stop him from taking it seriously.

 

He had been up on a roof, rifle aimed as he scoped out a group of survivors. A girl around maybe 20 with red hair and an odd handheld weapon; A guy around the redhead's age with blonde hair and a .22; Another girl, youngest of the four with black hair; And finally, an older man with a long white beard and hair. He remembered watching as the man knelt down to a zombie before the creature popped up and started to attack the guy. The other three weren't able to get a clear shot, but Tommy had been.

 

Forgetting all the rules he had taught himself, he intervened and saved the man's life. That had costed him his hiding spot. The last thing he remembered was the four of them, gazing up to where he had been lying, and he knew he was caught. He didn't remember any of the dream after that. He didn't know if he had been caught or if he ran away and escaped. Whatever happened in his dream, he did not want to repeat in real life, so thus the decision was made to travel early. No harm in getting there before anyone else does.

 

Tommy picked up his pace, quickening his journey across the lifeless road. There weren't too many Z's, but he was sure that a lot of them were in the woods. Venturing around mindlessly until they can upon an unfortunate human. Tommy wasn't going to be that unfortunate human though, so staying near the road looked to be the best option.

 

 He did know that that was also a little risky too. Sure, there weren't as many of the dead, but humans wandered and drove up these roads a fairly decent amount. Black trucks and cars kicking up gravel as they sped to their destination. Tommy knew that there were camps around here. Filled with survivors and people desperately seeking refuge. Some dying, others lonely. It's how the camps grew so much, but extra growth never ended well.

 

Being alone didn't end well most of the time either but it was better than having to mercy someone you knew. At least, that's what Tommy constantly told himself when he would come up on a group of survivors. It's not worth having to watch them die.

 

That mantra was the only thing keeping him away from going to a survivor's camp or joining a group. Well, that and the knowledge of what some people do to each other. You can't trust anyone anymore.

 

Something rumbled in the distance, causing Tommy to look up. No Z's were in sight but based on the noise it sounded like a speeding car. He darted off to the side and into the woods where the dead lurked. He scanned around quickly making sure he was away from the dead and alive alike. When he knew he was, he traveled deeper into the woods, keeping a sharp eye out for any movement. Guess he was taking a shortcut.

 

After walking a little while longer, traveling in a spiral of directions so that no one could follow, he saw the tops of buildings peek out from behind the trees. He stared at it, then back to the map he was carrying, hoping to confirm he made it to the right town. He took a few more cautious steps forward, hoping to get a clear shot of a road sign or something. After a few seconds, he spotted a street sign, and he traced it on his map. With relief, the street on his map marked him only a block away from the high school.

 

He took to a jog again, steering clear of being in anything's sight. He only managed to take down two zombies before arriving at the school.

 

957, 958

 

Tommy stopped at the back entrance of the school, the broken exit sign faded and unlit hung down with the "t" almost broken off. It was a sad sight, how a place filled with learning and knowledge had turned into this over the years. Broken and decayed. Abandoned and far from usable.

 

He had never really been to a public school. Pa taught him all he needed to know at home along with all the survival skills. As he gazed at the school building, he wondered if the world would ever find that semblance of normalcy again. Of sending your children off to school to become a part of the workforce, rather than having to worry about them getting eaten by a zombie on a day-to-day basis. He couldn't imagine that ever happening again.

 

 Third year into the apocalypse and it was only getting worse.

 

Tommy shook his head as he pushed the door open, knife tight in his grip in case anything was to pop out at him. He held it open for only a moment, allowing the morning light to shine into the dark corridor. He glanced around momentarily at the broken tile floors, the blue and red's that ran along with the whites was unpolished and dirty from lack of people. The walls weren't anything better; the cream-colored bricks caked with blood. The splotches shimmered their dark, sickening red as the little rays of sun from outside the door shone down on it.

 

It really was like he was living in his worst nightmare. Worse than when folks would say they dreamt about themselves being naked in school.

 

He gently closed the door behind him, hoping that it wouldn't make too much noise to attract Z's. Unfortunately, the doors being rusted and unused creaked slightly from the hinges, alerting whatever was in here of his arrival. Silently cursing to himself, he whipped around and scanned the room as his father's voice echoed through his mind.

 

Don't swear. Your mother never liked that.

 

He took in a long, shaky breath, finishing scanning the room for any sign of danger. None. That was always good.

 

He crept farther down the halls, trying to find anything useful. He heard a few days prior that there was food here, but the place had been overrun by zombies. He didn’t know the full details as to why it had been overrun, or who exactly it had been overrun from, but he did know that if he could get some food (let that be a small portion or not) it could help him survive another day. Besides, He thought as he ventured down the small halls, the metallic smell of blood filling his nostrils and leaving the taste almost on his tongue, the people here were already dead, so he shouldn't feel bad about getting some food. They wouldn't need it, but he did.

 

Tommy took a right, careful with his footing as he rounded the corner so that he could keep quiet. He barely made it all the way through the turn before a zombie rounded the corner at him. He was caught off guard for a second as the zombie crashed into him, knocking him down on the floor.

 

Flashlight now abandoned from his hand, he was literally left in the dark with the massive body of a Z on top of his. He could feel the warm breath against his skin, the smell putrid, as its mouth came down to Tommy's face. He put his free hand up on the zombie's forehead, feeling it cave in slightly, making him grimace in disgust. With his other hand, knife fully in his grasp, he brought it up to the zombie's squishy forehead, and plunged it deep past the skull and into the brain.

 

An overexaggerated amount of blood spewed onto his face; Tommy having to turn his head to the side to keep it from getting in his eyes, mouth and nose. He gagged slightly at the smell of rotting flesh, as the zombie fell on top of him, still and heavy.

 

959

 

He tried to push the zombie off of him, but the Z seemed to be incredibly heavy. At least, incredibly heavy for folks three years into the apocalypse. Tommy was tall, no one could argue with that, but never in the sense of big. He had always been thin, and with the diet the zombie apocalypse offered, it wasn't like he gained much weight either. No one had.

 

Except for maybe this guy. He shone his flashlight on the Z, gazing carefully at it. It was big. Like big, big in the sense of overweight, which admittedly wasn't very common now and days. It was decently tall too, possibly an inch under six feet, with a bald head exposing the greenish blue skin only found on zombies. The man's eyes were glazed over in the way all zombie's eye were, but its jaw hung loose from its mouth revealing missing and rotting teeth, barely holding onto its face.

 

The Z had to have been at least two years old now. No one could have been that decayed or large to have turned recently. He slightly allowed himself to pity the man for having to be a zombie that long. For, even though he was no longer present in that body, having to murder and eat innocents. To have to turn people with his bite. So many people. Good people. Folks who didn't deserve to die. Just like Pa…

 

He didn't have time to dwell on pity or remorse and grief. What happened, happened and he wasn't going to be able to change it. Ever. Right now, he needed to find food and water. The two main things he came for.

 

Tommy checked a few more classes, unfortunately coming up empty handed in food and water. He did find a pair of scissors and a couple paper clips though, so he had to take that as a slight win. He could use both to defend himself.

 

Sighing to himself, his attitude dreary with the lack of supplies he got, he kept an observant eye as he fled the school. That had been a bust. He got nothing that could help him with the basic necessities other than defense, which inevitably wouldn't do him a great deal if he was starving.

 

Tommy climbed up the ladder on the back of the school, moving across the roof to keep away from the zombies below. At least he hadn't come across the group. That was probably the only upside of the situation at this point.

 

 He passed an AC unit, making a slight curve with the roof as he listened for zombies down below. A couple dead moans rang in his ear, causing him to turn around to get a better look. Near the back right side of the school, there were zombies crowding around what looked to be a metal cage. Even up high he couldn't tell what they were trying to get at, but with it being zombies, the objective was pretty clear. There only seemed to be four of them, so it wouldn't be that hard to clear them out and keep whoever was locked up in it from getting bitten.

 

His hands instinctively reached for his gun, but he thought better of it as he moved for his slingshot instead. Save ammo.

 

Gears in hand, he readied the first one at a snarling zombie's head. This one had more energy, less decayed other than for its right arm consisting of a hole in it. A recently turned one then. Regardless of it being recently turned or not, he mercied it, before moving onto the next.

 

960

 

Another one hit the ground.

 

961

 

The third one finally noticed that his friends were dropping, as it spun around and ran over towards Tommy. The fourth one gained the same idea, following after her friend in a limped sprint. With one gear he was able to take them both down. It slicing through the third one's brain before embedding itself into the fourth one's; blood dripping down its forehead as it fell to its knees.

 

962, 963

 

Before the last one even hit the ground, Tommy was moving on top of the roof to get a better glance at the survivor locked up in the cage. As he crouched on the roof, he was able to see it was a beautiful female, long dark hair draping her shoulders as she kept her head between her arms and her knees, both of which she kept curled up against her body. Her darker than olive skin shone slightly in the morning light revealing no signs of bite marks. Only a few blood spatters had hit her as he mercied the zombies.

 

She didn't look up at first, but Tommy knew better than to assume that she was dead. Dying maybe, but dead was farfetched. She would've turned by now if she was, and the zombies wouldn't have been after her. After a few seconds of contemplating whether to go and see her, she woke up and glanced around with bleary eyes. Tommy moved back to hide as she looked his way, but he knew that she caught a glimpse of him. The same as he did her.

 

Her gaze dropped from where she was looking towards him and fell back into her knees. Tommy took this as his chance to get a closer look at her. Something didn't sit right with him. She looked so…he couldn't really explain it. He supposed she felt so familiar. Like they had meant, or he had seen her before.

 

He knew they hadn't though.

 

At first it had been just him and Pa. Then, two years and now, it had been just him. Alone without anybody else. He supposed she could just be a person he had seen while observing wandering groups of people, but he recognized her. As in, they meant before. Not just randomly saw each other.

 

He had her name on the tip of his tongue, but his mind couldn't seem to formulate exactly what it was. He let out a ruff sigh at his inability to do so as he looked her over again. Long silky black hair, deep dark brown eyes, curved eyebrows. He repeated what she looked like again before it hit him like a freight train.

 

She had been one of the women he had seen in his dream.

 

The youngest out of the four. He sucked in a sharp breath as he scanned her wildly. He didn't know why he saw them, but most of the time it usually meant that they were a threat. Whenever he dreamt about people like this, they always turned out to be bad. Heck, even situations that he dreamt turned out to be bad.

 

He had to get out of here. He had to get away before they came after him. He glanced around again, quickly looking for the other three, expecting them to pop out at him at any moment. They didn't, but a zombie did.

 

 A gasp of surprise escaped his lips as the zombie pushed him down to the ground, holding him down more human-like than zombie as it went to take a bite from his chest. Without thinking and already panicked, he pushed it off of him and made a grab for his spare knife in his front pocket. Without a moment more of hesitation, he pushed the knife through the eyeball, a brownish blue with zombie like characteristics, and killed its brain.

 

964

 

More blood sprayed onto him, creating a second layer to what was already caked on his face. This time, however, it managed to stick to the corner of his mouth lining all the way up to his left eye, nearly getting in it. Rapidly, he rubbed it all off to clear his vision along with the smell and taste. He usually didn't let it affect him as much, but with already being in the moments panic, he wasn't exactly in the correct thought process.

 

Tommy quickly made his way across the roof, making it away from the caged girl, and carefully scanning around as he looked for the other survivors of her group. The situation wasn't so much as freaking him out--instead one that panicked him more-so. Again, usually when he had these certain types of dreams, they ended up being bad. Not always, since sometimes they would be totally unrealistic, but other times, they seemed to hold truth to them.

 

He had ignored the dreams at first, and usually they would play out the same way he 'remembered' them. Then there were the times that he would actually change it, and the thing he dreamt would never come true. Instead, it would either lead him to something better or something worse. Tommy never had much luck with the former option.

 

So, from that, he made sure to take every precaution he could to not get a terrible ending by a simple mistake. Once he scouted the perimeter and saw that besides the caged girl, there was no one else but zombies in sight, he began to relax slightly and formulate a better plan than just running. He had weapons and ammo, and not to mention higher ground at this point. Besides a sneak attack, Tommy knew he was capable in his defense to keep himself safe from the four in his dream.

 

What he didn't have much of though was food-- something that had been his main goal from the get-go. He had been checking the less-than-obvious places in the school in hopes that whoever had inhabited it had left the supplies lying around. They hadn't of course, and if they did, it had probably already been taken. Tommy had contemplated whether or not he should check the whole school-- the last place being the barricaded cafeteria where he had heard more than enough inhuman gurgles.

 

The chances of food being inside were low with an even higher chance of zombies crowding inside. Tommy knew he didn't have much in luck with his food supplies, and while he had his own protection, he knew he was far from safe at any given moment-- The main threats being zombies and humans. Starvation was the next thing on his list, and from it, he decided he might-as-well take the chance of finding food inside with the zombies, than traveling without it with zombies.

 

He made his way across the roof, deciding that it was better than walking through the dark hallways, as he stayed hidden along the way. A few zombies lurked below him, but the day was eerily quiet up until this point. Something Tommy was usually fond of, but felt oddly uneasy about in this situation. Whether it be his luck or not, it hadn't been a moment after the thought crossed his mind that the eerie peace had been ruined.

 

Tommy heard the car before he saw it-- as it would accelerate in speed before swerve, brake harshly, and then speed up again. The gosh-awful screeching of tires against asphalt bombarded his ears as the silver car came into view, taking a turn towards the school, but not letting up on the peddle.

 

He couldn't see the driver, but he could see that the back tire seemed to be blown out, leaving the car to be hard to handle. The driver didn't seem to get much control over the vehicle as it rammed full speed into the side of the school as if the building would stop it. And while it did, the impact of the crash didn't do justice to the car, school, or occupants of the vehicle as the damage was completely displayed to Tommy.

 

He inched his way across the roof to get a better look at the destruction, waiting to see a zombie throw itself out, or the driver of the car make it out with deadly injuries. Nothing came though besides the straggling z's that roamed the area, running over in hopes of a fresh meal. They crowded around the car, gargling and snarling, but nothing within the car made a movement to kill them or to show Tommy what the zombies were after.

 

The movement didn't give him an answer, but the sound did.

 

A high-pitched wail sounded from the car, drawing more zombies to the scene as they crowded around the vehicle. The crying only continued, and while the zombies accumulated, Tommy was left in his spot on the roof in shock.

 

Was that a baby's cry?

 

He hadn't seen many infants through the apocalypse-- much less children who were under the age of four. Then again, he hadn't seen many people with how secluded he stayed, so that was expected. Still, the idea of a baby--alive-- inside the crashed vehicle sounded bizarre, but all the more true as the situation played out.

 

More zombies started to crowd around the defenseless infant, leaving Tommy with a hard decision to make. Should he just leave? He didn't know how to handle a baby-- much less one during the apocalypse. He barely had food and water to sustain himself. Still, he couldn't just leave the baby inside the car to get eaten or turned.

 

As much as he was against intervening in situations like these, he couldn't help as he aimed his slingshot at the crowding zombies' heads. He was able to kill three of the zombies before the few others caught on. They snarled towards him, running his way as others made attempts to get to the infant in the car. Easily from his high vantage point, he had mercied them, clearing the pack that had surrounded the car.

 

965, 966, 967, 968, 969

 

The last one, a small skinny Z, swerved its way through his attempts to kill it, jumping up on the roof of a car to get closer to Tommy. It had paused for a second, screeching to him, but leaving him with an easy shot through its skull. It collapsed in on itself, falling off the top of the car and onto the ground. By that time, Tommy was already making his way down off of the rooftop and over to the baby who was still wailing in the car.

 

970

 

Still on high-alert, he kept his gun raised as he made his way over to the baby, peeking in the destroyed back window to see the infant in a screaming fit. Tommy cautiously looked around him, making sure no more Zs were coming as he ventured to the front seat of the car. He peered in, seeing that the female driver had been killed on impact, not even turning zombie and being mercied from the crash. Her head slammed into the steering wheel as blood and brains gushed from the open wound on her forehead.

 

Tommy assumed that was another source of what the zombies had been after.

 

Beside the lady was a blue, plain backpack, and although he should have been happy, the bag looked depleted as is, so he guessed he hadn't had luck in getting any supplies there either. Regardless, he snatched it, setting it against the side of the car before heading back over to the (still crying) baby.

 

The back side window was smashed as the glass was shattered both on the inside and outside of the car. He took one last glance around him to make sure the area was clear, before he leaned in through the shattered window to unbuckle the baby-- all the while trying to shush it so it would calm down. His attempts to do so, even when the baby was out of the car, had failed as the infant in the yellow jumper continued its crying fit.

 

Tommy wasn't quite sure how to quiet the baby, much less hold it. Awkwardly, he shifted it in his arms, assuming that he was holding the baby the proper way.

 

He had seen babies before, yeah, and he had probably held one when he was younger and supervised. Tommy was an only child, so he never got the chance to hold a younger sibling. His and his Pa's neighbors in the mountains didn't typically have kids-- that were his age or younger that is. Only one did-- an overprotective single mother who had once been Tommy's Ma's friend. After Ma died, the overprotective mother rarely kept in contact with him or Pa, so the idea of meeting or even holding her infant was out the window as well.

 

So, Tommy didn't have very much experience in this department, and he was kind of left standing there like an idiot with a crying baby in his arms that he was holding like it was a grenade. He shushed it a couple more times, anxiously looking around to make sure none of the dead were coming as he shifted the infant in his arms again.

 

The baby was huge. Tommy had seen baby dolls in the toy section when Pa would take him on a rare trip out, and this baby was so much bigger than any of the dolls. The stores really got their proportions for the baby dolls messed up.

 

He wasn't sure what to do at this point. He had saved the baby, but now what? He didn't know how to care for one, and he didn't have the supplies to support either of them. He had just reacted on emotion rather than thought, and now he was beating himself up for it. He knew that if he stayed out in the open any longer, he would just be risking his and the baby's life, but his main goal of heading into the cafeteria had to be put on hold, because he couldn't do that with a screaming child.

 

Awkwardly, he picked up the empty, blue backpack and gently set the infant in it almost as if it were a carrier. He didn't have any other options than this, and no matter how idiotic or inaccessible it enabled him to be, Tommy wasn't sure what else he could do. He put the backpack on the front of his chest; figuring carrying a living baby in a bookbag on his back didn't seem like the safest option and started to head down the road.

 

Tommy had saved some locations of camps--not for the sake of him going to one, but rather a place he could avoid traveling into and being mistook as a zombie by some chance. He had heard from others of two camps nearby (Camp Blue Sky and Camp Silver-Tail respectively) and figured that if he found them reliable, they would have better chances with the infant than he did.

 

And after the child was dropped off, he'd make a quick trip back here to look for food in the cafeteria before the group came.

 

----line break---- 

 

After the long and tiring trip of getting the baby to the camp, Tommy was seriously doubting whether or not he should head back and tackle the cafeteria. He had nearly died countless times just getting the baby to the camp, both by zombies and humans, and the idea of risking his life again with depleted energy didn't sound too pleasing at the moment.

 

He had contemplated it some, but figuring he was still low on food, he decided one more near death experience would outweigh starving and turning. He had been offered to stay at Camp Silver-Tail, but he had declined and left as soon as he made sure the baby was safe. Who at some point, he had started to call Steven when calling it ' the baby ' was getting too repetitive. It wasn't one of his favorite names, but it felt familiar for some reason, and it was one name out of many that he thought about at times.

 

Regardless, he hadn't stayed, since being in big groups who stayed in one place all the time was not his thing. It was late by the time he left though, and although it wasn't too dark, he had made it back to the school much later than he would have liked. Instead of heading straight to the cafeteria, he went back up to the roof to scope around for any other daring groups…Or even the group.

 

Tommy went back to where the caged girl was, and seeing that she was still in there, he went back to the front of the school to look around.

 

Nobody.

 

He felt safe to know that it was clear, but that safeness only lasted for so long as a truck came rumbling up to the school. He scooted back so that he was hidden from view, but enough where he could see. Figuring if worse came to worse, he put his slingshot away and grabbed his rifle, using the scope to get a better view.

 

Slowly, the truck stopped, and unlike the car--managed to not ram into the school and kill themselves. Tommy could see that there were a few people on the back--three to be exact. He tensed as he watched the three on the back, two of them all too noticeable to him.

 

There, standing tall as the car stopped but alert, was the red-headed female and the blonde male. Two of the members from the four in (what Tommy had assumed at first) the caged girl's group. Another person was also on the truck bed, but the other female wasn't familiar to him at all. He hadn't seen her in his dreams, and she didn't have that same feeling that the other occupants had when they exited the car.

 

Well, some of them.

 

The African American military man, and the ginger-hair female in the truck bed had no recognition from him. They were different from all the others-- to him at least.

 

Tommy watched as a dispute went about with a rattier looking man and the military man before the rest of the group joined, and agreed to look for supplies. Tommy couldn't help but curse his luck, shifting back more as they walked around the area. All day he had been avoiding meeting up with this group, and no matter what, he still ended up getting stuck here with them. As much as he knew he was able to leave, Tommy wasn't sure what to do. There was something about the people in this group that he couldn't place. They were far different than any of the other dreams he had with folks, and even though his dream didn't give him much context, he wasn't sure if they were good or bad.

 

He shouldn't take chances.

 

He knew that, but some feeling was keeping him planted in his spot. Call it curiosity to who these folks were, or maybe ignorance, Tommy decided to see how it would play out.

 

He moved along with the group, keeping an eye on the three from his dream, but switching between the other members. He kept his main focus on the old man, watching for any zombies that would be a danger to the man, before a yell caught him off guard. He quickly turned his attention to the ratty looking man to see him running over to the African American woman and the brown-haired man.

 

"Don't go over there!"

 

The military man was running over to the ratty man, as the other two pointed their weapons at the latter. Tommy also shifted his aim among them, not necessarily to kill, but to watch. They were being awfully loud, and even though he had cleared out a couple zombies, there was no telling how many came back.

 

"Murphy! Get your ass over here!" The military man called to presumably 'Murphy'. Tommy wasn't sure why the name registered a reaction from him, but he couldn't help as his eyebrows knit together. Where had he heard that name before?

 

"Why?" The brown-haired, white man asked, walking past Murphy, only to be stopped short by the ratty looking man.

 

"Don't." Murphy repeated, and Tommy didn't miss as the man gazed anxiously around the group.  "Unless you want to get your face ripped apart by a baby zombie."

 

Now that did gain a certified reaction. How in the world would the man know there was a baby, when Tommy had already taken it? Much less call it a zombie? He saw Murphy gaze back over to the crashed vehicle, and if it was the case that the man saw the car seat from that far, Tommy would admit that that was admirable. However, with Murphy's response of hearing it rather than seeing it, Tommy was left dumbstruck on whether the man lied or not.

 

Regardless, he decided not to question much, making sure to stay out of sight from Murphy's incredibly observant vision as he followed the group members around. At some point, later than not, they had taken the girl out of the cage, getting a completely different reaction than what Tommy had been expecting. Obviously the girl hadn't known the group. Huh.

 

After that, he had lost sight for some time of the members as they went inside the building. Tommy knew they wouldn't find much, given the fact he had already ran a search throughout the entire building…well, besides the cafeteria, but now was not the time. He debated whether or not to sneak off and attempt to look and leave, but those thoughts were overruled from his curiosity to this mysterious dream group.

 

He kept guard on the roof at the front of the school-- not for the group's sake, but to watch when they would come out. After some time, they finally did, splitting into separate groups again. Once more, he was left with a hard decision to make.

 

Murphy was intriguing, given the fact he had 'heard' the baby when there was none at all. But the old man and the other three were a part of his dream, and given the circumstance that the man could get bitten by a zombie, he wasn't sure he could live with knowing he could have helped and hadn't. For all Tommy knew, the old man might have a child he was getting back to, and if he let the man turn, Tommy would always compare it to a situation like his Pa's death.

 

He made the choice to follow the four from his dream, creeping along the roof as he watched them. This time, the tall woman was with the four, and he couldn't recall seeing her in his dream. He brushed it off though, focusing on watching the old man and any zombie that he walked past. He heard a few people of the five talking, but ignored it as he watched a zombie reanimate from the ground at the old man's touch.

 

He went to take a shot the second the zombie started to get off of the ground, but he was too slow as the Z had already grabbed the man in an attempt to bite him. The chaos that erupted around the situation was immediate as the other four rushed around to get a shot to save the man. None were able to though, and they only managed to get into Tommy's way from sniping the Z.

 

The tall woman managed to get in front of his shot at first, trying to pry the zombie from its shoulders. She was unsuccessful, but had luckily moved out of the way just in time for Tommy to shoot the brain and provide mercy to the feral creature.

 

981

 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting at this point. Besides the other woman, it was just as his dream had happened. It was only a second or so after the Z hit the ground before they turned their attention to him. Tommy wouldn't say he panicked, but taking their shock into his favor, he rushed away from them before they could come after him.

 

He disregarded the one girl as she called out to him, climbing swiftly down the ladder (almost managing to twist his ankle in the process) and running away from the group before they could come catch him. A part of him expected it, but his logical side knew they wouldn't. Just because he saved them, it didn't warrant a bounty on his head. He knew that, so he lightened his pace as he headed down the road.

 

Another silence filled the air and Tommy wasn't sure why he expected otherwise. He thought he would hear a shootout start, or the firing of bullets, but instead, nothing came at all. It was odd but normal at the same time, and he wasn't sure why he placed it otherwise.

 

He also wasn't sure why he didn't expect the group to take the same road as him.

 

Frack.

 

He cursed himself as he heard the rumbling of the trucks behind him. Of course they would take this way out. Tommy considered dodging into the woods to avoid them, but thinking better of it, he decided to walk as human as possible and hope the group wouldn't mistake him as a zombie.

 

Luckily, they hadn't, as the military man in the deuce and a half drove past him, barely sparing him a glance as he drove by. The African American woman did spare a glance though as she passed but had luckily not stopped. But that was where his luck ran dry. The third truck-- the one the group had first pulled up in-- started to rumble to a stop inching closer to him.

 

He decided against darting into the woods, opting to slow his pace but keep his head forward, side eyeing the truck at every chance he got. He might have saved one of their members, but he didn't trust them. Tommy slowly started to bring his rifle back to his front-- hoping to possibly intimidate the person to keep driving and leave him be. The tactic failed though, as the truck stopped beside him, and the older man he had saved was revealed to be the driver.

 

"Hey." The man called as Tommy turned towards him-- trying to not reveal that he was more than panicked in the situation. Why did he have to take this road out? He knew they would come this way. "Hey there."

 

He heard the gentle and thoughtful tone the man gave to seeing him-- completely displaying that he remembered Tommy as the sniper who had shot the zombie. Tommy wasn't sure if he would count that as a good or bad thing at the moment.

 

He turned towards the truck completely, making sure the occupants were in his view, but watching the older man for the time being. They were threats until they proved otherwise.

 

"You're that sharp shooter that saved my ass, aren't you?" The man continued to talk, even though Tommy gave no indication in reply that that was indeed true. The man already knew it.

 

"Oh man. I want to thank you." The sincere tone in the man's voice threw him off for a second. "Do you need a ride?" The man asked after a moment, and Tommy could tell the offer was genuine. Why? He wasn't sure. The man knew next to nothing about him. For all he knew, Tommy could have done that for some sort of manipulation tactic.

 

Not that he did. His main goal was to stay away from them, rather than trick them, but it's not like the man knew any different. Still, besides the offer, he didn't know what to say. Should he take it?

 

He looked at the others in the car, seeing the one girl he had tried to save from the zombies before he had abandoned doing so. She seemed to recognize him from this morning as well, much to his terrible luck. She probably wasn't too happy about being left in that cage anyhow. Although she tried not to show it, he could tell she noticed him.

 

He slightly shifted his attention the other occupant in the car, revealing that it was none other than the Murphy guy. Murphy seemed to be looking him over curiously, and Tommy could see recognition in the man's eyes as well. How? Again, he couldn't answer. Tommy was sure he stayed hidden from view, so Murphy seeing him was out the picture.

 

He didn't trust the man already. Some sort of feeling, or maybe it was the energy the man gave off. Tommy wasn't sure.

 

He didn't know if he should take the ride or not. Despite an odd sense of distrust to a specific member, and the feeling of knowing all but two, this group was completely different than any he had come across before. He knew he shouldn't trust it, and that if he did, it was a stupid idea. That he would just be throwing out all his rules he had made and learned up until this point to stay alive. But there was something about the group that he couldn't place, and the curiosity to what it was, was killing him.

 

He shrugged his shoulders, figuring that he could leave at any point in the case that the group became dangerous. He hopped into the back of the truck, tapping the side to alert that he was ready to go, as he sighed to himself.

 

Tommy knew groups weren't a good idea, but the curiosity of what made this group different was starting to change that. Or maybe he was just lonely. He wasn't sure, but either way, he was sure he would figure it out.

 

Of course, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Notes:

Looks like the Risen's plans didn't work as well as they thought it would, did it? Blake and Murphy are in for a surprise when truths are revealed.

Anyhow, I cut out the infamous "waste all your ammo for Hammond's mercy" scene. Apologies if you liked it, but at least the group has more ammo...for now.

Coming Soon:
Diverging Points

Chapter 9: Diverging Points

Summary:

Overview: Despite the team being back together, more complications arise in what part of the group wants compared to what the rest hope for.

Notes:

Hi again. Sorry for the wait. I'm writing Philly Feast Remake (Part One) at the moment, but I'm holding off a week (more or less) to post both Fracking Zombie Remake (Part One and Two).

With the internet going down and having to reset my laptop, I've had to edit over this (three!) times whilst losing my progress. Like, I get halfway through and start over again.

I don't remember what notes I had for this chapter, so excuse me if I miss anything. I'll write it down if I remember.

Warren's POV:

 

They were able to drive for a few more hours before Hammond signaled them to pull over to the side. It was getting dark out by now, past ten or so, as the headlights lit up the road, then the dirt as they pulled over. Hammond was the first to get out, slamming the door and heading over to Warren as she got out of the SUV.

 

"We'll stay here for tonight, and head to the Tappan Zee by morning." He instructed, nodding over to the run-down house with rotting pillars and barricaded windows.

 

It wasn't unusal for Warren to drive at night-- she had done it plenty of times just to get back to Blue Sky on time. Although, she knew a little regrouping wouldn't hurt, so she agreed with him, looking back behind the man as Addy and Blake made their way out.

 

"I'll go make sure the building is clear." Garnett spoke, addressing the others as he looked over to Warren. "Mind helping?"

 

"Yeah. I'll be right there." Her and Garnett worked best together. Knowing each other's moves, and rhythms to killing and styles came in handing when clearing out zombies. Always best to choose wisely with your partner in crime.

 

She looked back towards Hammond who remained unrestful as he waited for his 'package'. Warren wasn't exactly sure why it had been such a big deal for Murphy to get away from riding with Hammond, but she knew it was none of her business, and she didn't really care. It wasn't like they would be traveling with them for that long anyways.

 

Doc was farther behind the group for whatever reason, so it took him a longer time to reach the stop they pulled up to. Hammond flagged them down, flashing the left blinker to grab their attention to pull over. Despite it being dark, Warren was able to see the car through the headlights shining on it, and could clearly make out a presence that wasn't supposed to be there.

 

She drew her gun, moving away from heading to clear out the building and closer to the truck. Hammond was right beside her as they made their way to the truck bed and past Doc.

 

She ignored Murphy's "Oh shit." response, as she and Hammond aimed their guns at the unknown figure who had hopped off the truck bed and onto the ground.

 

"Looks like you got a hitchhiker." Warren called, as the boy (as she could tell) aimed his rifle back at her. None of them pulled the trigger, and instead were left at a standstill with weapons raised.

 

Blake came rushing to her side, without her gun and a worried expression lining her face as she gazed between the boy and the others.

 

"Who are you?" Hammond questioned the boy, but before he could reply, Doc came up beside him, raising his hands in defense.

 

"Hey, hey, hey. Woah. Calm down. He saved my life. I let him ride with us." Doc spoke rapidly, trying to calm down the situation as he silently told the boy to lower his weapon. With hesitation, he complied, and Warren and Hammond followed suit.

 

Warren knew more was to follow, but the scene shifted all too soon as Blake spoke. "It's getting dark. We should scout out the building before we're found as a free meal." She motioned back towards the building, finally raising her pistol and walking over. The moment seemed to keep everyone frozen until that point, before Warren and Garnett did as they had intended, making it towards the building.

 

Murphy stayed near the trucks by Hammond, guarding them before they could hide and shut them off. Addy, Mack, Doc, and the new male and female also kept a lookout, surveying the area in case unwanted groups decided they would like a new ride or better weapons.

 

Knowing that if the newcomers tried to attack, there was five on two, Warren, Garnett and Blake made their way into the building to make sure it was zombie free. The door was luckily unlocked, and nothing was barricading it from the other side, so they were easily able to make their way in.

 

The darkness that engulfed the building was blinding to some point, as the three had to turn on the little juice left in their flashlight batteries to see around the place. The tiled floors of the office building were stained with blood and dirt as the brick walls were chipped with bullet holes of past fights. Deteriorating papers littered the floor as the ink ran off the pages; the once new carpets crumpled and scattered with dust and dirt covering the intricate designs.

 

Blake went off to the hallway with the office's cubical, diverging from the fighting stance that Garnett and Warren had formed. She had observed that the woman did that often-- leaving their sides to go on her own at some points, but always close enough that she could protect them in the case of an attack. Warren never understood it, and often times held a disdain for the separation, but let it be after the couple ten times of it happening.

 

By each other's side, she andGarnett  made their way down the halls-- one shining their flashlight to the left while the other shone it to the right. They passed by the reception area; the dividing window's glass shattered with a female lying face first in the bloody shards-- one of which was stabbed through her skull.

 

Despite herself, Warren couldn't help but cringe at the sight of the young girl-- her decaying and rotting body displaying that she had turned zombie, but possibly killed on Day One by the way she was positioned. She forced herself to look away, heading down the hall farther with Garnett leading the front.

 

He pushed open a door to his side, both of them cautious as they aimed their weapons to the open room. Nothing appeared, and as Garnett shone his dying flashlight in, it was revealed that the finding was true.

 

"You think we can trust them?" Garnett spoke quietly, seemingly out of nowhere.

 

"Trust who?" Warren asked, just as quiet as her eyebrows scrunched together and as she spared him a second's worth of a glance.

 

She supposed he was talking about Hammond, but then again, they just picked up that one girl and boy, so 'them' could range to a whole lot of new and untrustworthy people.

 

"Hammond and Murphy." He paused for a second, turning towards her as he spared a glance down the hall to make sure no one overheard and none of the dead came to eat their brains. "Just the two of them traveling across the United States with a cure for humanity?"

 

His incredulous tone reveled enough to his questioning, but Warren knew Garnett enough to know he didn't fully debunk what it was either.

 

"You saw the marks." The sickening bitemarks of the ripped flesh and scarred insides left Warren shivering any time she looked towards Murphy. She could never imagine what it would be like to have her flesh eaten right off of her, much less the pain and trauma that came with it. "If those aren't for the cure, I don't know what they'd be to."

 

"I know." He sighed, picking up to carefully walking down the halls again to clear the building, Warren following right beside as she waited for him to continue. "I want to believe it. To…finally have that hope, but we've been tricked plenty of times. Humans work in deceiving ways--no matter what."

 

Warren couldn't argue with his point, remaining silent for a moment as she checked the next room to her side, finding no zombies in there either. "And if it turns out to be true?"

 

It was his turn to remain quiet, thinking it over as he shifted his weight closer to her as he peered through the glass frames of the office door.

 

"I'd be happy to finally have hope."

 

His simple remark hit Warren harder than she intended. Garnett always seemed to have an uplifted spirit when it came to surviving day to day. At times, he could put the whole camp at ease and make them believe that there would hopefully be a day when they wouldn't have to run. To have hope when you feel down. That a world without hope was one you couldn't live in.

 

She started to believe him, but there was always a dreadful side that pushed back--denying that it could or would ever happen. Now with Garnett's hope supposedly appearing, Warren couldn't help but want to believe in it. 

 

Just now, when that hope was preached to the camp, Warren learned that they were all dead, so that hope sure came at one hell of a time for Camp Blue Sky.

 

Finding no movement in the room, he carefully opened the door to look through, shining the light in to get a better look of the surroundings. Warren followed, but as Garnett got less than halfway into the room, movement shuffled, before lunging at Garnett and pinning him against the doorframe.

 

He desperately tried to get the zombie off, as his gun raised to the neck, but not enough to kill the brain. He went to take the useless shot, but before he could, Warren placed her gun to the snarling zombies head, pulling the trigger a second before Garnett did.

 

"That's gotta attract them." Warren spoke, as a yell echoed through the room and Blake's struggling with a zombie could be heard. They both made their way down the hall towards the woman, getting to her just in time to see her and the zombie falling into the cubical and crashing into the rolling chairs.

 

She was pinned to the floor, gun on the floor inches away from her as she desperately tried to reach for her axe strapped to her waist. Garnett raised his gun to mercy the zombie, but Warren was quick to pull her machete out, slicing through the zombie's head, but making sure the end of the machete wasn't about to go through Blake's as well.

 

"Quiet." She reprimanded back to Garnett as his shoulder's sagged in amused annoyance-- still getting his gun out for defense purposes whether it was loud or not.

 

"Thanks." Blake huffed with gratitude, getting up from the floor with Warren's help and holstering her pistol, opting to use her axe instead. Warren knew the woman was more skilled in hand to hand rather than long-distance, so the situation was more ideal to Blake's standards at the moment.

 

Light on their feet, they made their way out of the room, checking the few rooms left downstairs, before heading to the rotting staircase at the front of the building.

 

"Downstairs is clear." Garnett informed, looking over to the stairs. "Ready?"

 

Warren nodded as Blake went first, taking a step up only for the floorboard to crumple under her weight. She quickly drew her foot back like it was on fire, moving back from the staircase and offering for the other two to go.

 

"Be my guest. I'm good."

 

Warren rolled her eyes, going to try the second step that looked less rotted before more commotion could be heard from outside.

 

"Puppies and kittens!!" Doc yelled, frantically making his way into the building with all the others trialing behind. Gunshots pierced through the air as they all made their way in, with Garnett heading over to help barricade the door from the zombies so they wouldn't be able to push through.

 

Ten or so zombies pounded at the door and the windows, gnashing their teeth as blood dripped from their saliva. Addy piked what she could with her Z-Whacker from the windows, as the others fired their weapons to keep the pack of Z's back.

 

Hammond anxiously walked back, reloading his gun as he looked over his shoulder to Warren and Garnett. "All clear?"

 

Garnett nodded over to the stairs, moving to walk beside Hammond before answering. "Everything but upstairs."

 

Murphy, who was heading towards the back of the room, looked up the stairs, then the broken floorboard below it. "What the hell have you guys been doin' that whole time?" Despite the question, and having his gun raised for oncoming danger, he didn't seem too affect or phased by the whole ordeal.

 

Another wonder of the man.

 

They ignored him as the others backed up from the door-- some of zombies at the windows being mercied while the Z's crowded around the door.

 

"Are the back exits closed off?" Hammond asked, walking over to the door to gaze out at the oncoming zombie mob.

 

"Exits were barricaded from the room on the other side. We couldn't get in." Warren informed. When Blake had finally decided to join them in checking, they had tried to find a second option of escape. The room, however, was closed off with the exit point on the other side. If it hadn't been for the zombies, Warren would've suggested they find a more secure place.

 

That, of course, hadn't happened.

 

"So we're riding it off 'til they die down." Hammond deduced, mainly talking aloud to himself before he addressed the rest of the group. "I suggest you get comfortable for now."

 

Like all the stress in the room had vanished, most of the group dispersed with relief, heading to take a break or talk quietly among one another. Warren stayed in the middle of the room, watching the group take their spots, and keeping guard for the zombies outside.

 

Doc, Mack, and Addy headed off to the corner where the hallway to the cubical were. Two of the three resting on the ground while the other stood with his back against the wall. Blake took to the side, close to the trio but enough away to be in her own peace for the time they had it.

 

Murphy was stationed near the stairs, gazing up wary to them one last time before opting to glare at Blake. Warren didn't know what the two had against each other, but it seemed clearly prominent the second Murphy had entered the camp. Blake would glare back towards him or give nasty comments seemingly out of the blue. Murphy didn't revert so much to speaking out on this supposed hatred, rather used unnoticeable actions.

 

Though, the actions were clear to Warren. The meaning, however? Not so much.

 

Garnett took to looking around the room they occupied, sparing her a glance now and again before cautiously looking out to the zombies as they continued to make a ruckus at the door. She planned on heading over to him in a moment, but she kept a curious and distrusting watch on the two newcomers as they made their way to their spots in the room.

 

The new girl made her way farther from everyone, making sure they were all in her sights as she sent them a wary glance. Warren knew that people in the apocalypse were cautious of one another-- for everything that one person could do to another without repercussions, but there was something about this girl that screamed something was wrong. That she was hiding something important that could either be used against them or could be a danger to them.

 

The boy however wasn't as quick to get to a far location from the rest. Like the girl, no newcomer was spared of questioning when traveling with the group-- no matter how long the group stayed together or what the person had done.

 

Hammond stopped the boy from going any further, pulling him over to the side to begin the interrogation. Warren, deciding against heading over to Garnett, made her way closer to the conversation, curious in finding out more about the mysterious person in case he ended up traveling with them instead of separating.

 

"Why did you help him?" Warren hadn't heard the full question, only gaining the tidbit at the end as Hammond pried for information.

 

"He would've turned zombie if I didn't." She could pick up the slight sass in his remark, hidden underneath him trying to make it sound like more of a statement than an obvious retort.

 

Warren could tell the interrogation wasn't going to get far. With the boy seeming too closed off-- and despite well hidden-- nervous around Hammond, he didn't seem willing to give much information other than the basics. Hammond, however, wasn't looking for what was already known. He wanted to get objectives and an understanding for actions out of the boy to not deem him a threat. Neither seemed inclined to come to an agreement with what to say and not, so Warren opted for a go.

 

"Hammond…" She started as she walked up to them, getting a startled look from the boy as Hammond turned towards her. "Let me try."

 

"Let you try?" He echoed in a question, tilting his head slightly as he looked uneasy about leaving the position to somebody else.

 

"This didn't get you anywhere with her." She motioned back towards the girl who briefly looked up to see her pointing. "Let me have a go." It wasn't a degrading comment to Hammond's ability. He had gotten an idea of what happened to the school and his team, but not necessarily anything from her to prove she was less of a threat. That idea was leaving Warren vigilant to the girl.

 

It took another moment of Hammond's questioning gaze to fall on her before he backed up, allowing her to work.

 

Warren stood in front of the boy, gaining almost an intimidated look from him. Odd he hadn't given one to Hammond-- a man in uniform-- but one to her instead. She was glad she looked intimidating, because in any case that always was effective, but odd because Hammond held the same type of energy. More or less, that is.

 

 "Why were you at the high school?" She started with the basic questions, knowing that trying to get more complex answers from him was not happening on their first meeting.

 

"Supplies." He didn't think much before answering, more-so an automatic response in his simple reply. As if to prove his point, he cautiously held out his bag to her so that she could look inside. Taking the offer, she did, taking notice of the ammo and random pieces of junk and gear that rendered useless to her.

 

Besides that, there seemed to be a bottle of water left, and less than half a bag of stale Corn Flakes. Other than that, food and water were basically nonexistent on him. Once she looked back up to him, he quickly shrugged the backpack back over his shoulder and away from her and Hammond.

 

He didn't have much, besides weapons, which put the group in danger in case he decided to attack for whatever reason. He didn't seem to be, but then again, murderers never plot aloud. Warren sighed, coming up with her own conclusions as she responded to him.

 

"Listen…you're welcome to join us, but don't think I won't hesitate to shoot you if you go against us. I don't need a traitor or a liability." She had to protect what was left of her group-- no matter if that traitor turned out to be young or old.

 

"I won't be…either of them."

 

With his confirmation, she nodded. "Good." With her last remark, finding that the interrogation was over, he scurried away to a corner farthest from all the others-- mainly to the opposite side of the room from Doc, Addy, and Mack.

 

Warren could almost feel Hammond's disapproval to her choice, him sighing next to her before speaking. "You can't trust everyone you come up on. You'll see. You'll pick up someone you think is nice one day, and they'll turn on you the next, and I'm not going to settle for picking up strays at every stop we make."

 

Warren could agree on half of it. The world was filled with those untrustworthy and undetermined. No one was ever good, and when the time came, they could turn on you at any second. She could understand why he acted or thought that. Hammond was a tough guy, and a guy who had to be sure. You always had to be sure. In the Zombie Apocalypse, there were three kinds of people when it came to others. Those that helped and became allies. Those that would kill you by means of survival or for their own enjoyment, or those that didn't give a shit and waited until the end to reap the benefits. So yes, she could understand why Hammond was being so demanding. Not because he was like that in general, but because the people around you could come to harm you. That is, unless you were sure that they wouldn't.

 

Still, when people were in need, she couldn't just ignore them without a proper reason.

 

"They're just kids. If you're so dead set on a mission for humanity, did you ever think about the others that you meet along the way that are actually part of that humanity?" If this was about saving the world from zombies, and you left those in need to die along the way, what humanity would you have left? Who would be left to save with a cure?

 

The murderers? Rapists? Those who were insane and killed for their own pleasure?

 

"They were fine on their own when we found them. I don't see a need to bring untrustworthy people along." Hammond argued back--not meanly, but more forceful in his approach as he turned fully towards her.

 

And that was just a sorry-ass statement to fulfill his argument, and Hammond knew it.

 

"She was locked up in a cage, and he was walking on the side of the road by himself with little food. That doesn't seem 'fine on their own' to me." It wasn't certain death for certain occurrences, but it was pretty damn close if you were out of luck.

 

 "You're welcome to do your own mission, Lieutenant. No one asked any of you to join along with me." Hammond replied, walking away and ending the conversation as he went to start up something of one with Murphy--who finally drew away from glaring at Blake.

 

She wouldn't say she scoffed, but knowing that they were all on the same page of splitting up after this point left her with more of an understanding. It wasn't their mission. Her, Garnett, Doc, Addy, Mack, Blake-- they didn't have to go to California to get a cure. They didn't have an obligation to.

 

To herself, she nodded, heading over to trio who had gained Garnett and Blake in their low conversation as well. Once she finally got up to them, they included her in as the question to what they were doing was answered.

 

"What's the plan now, Chief?" Doc asked, looking to Garnett for their next plan of action. She turned her attention to him as well as he took a deep breath.

 

"We're low on resources…I don't see the harm in sticking with them…for a little while at least. What do you think, Warren?" He reasoned, glancing down towards her as they both decided for what they were going to do.

 

Despite working well in how they killed zombies and protected each other, one relied on the other to understand how to plan. The power didn't just go to Garnett, but it didn't fully go to Warren either. It was like a book. You needed one page to get to the other-- a paragraph of sentences to make the thought coherent for the next page to make sense. If not, it all falls apart, and you're left with a failed attempt at survival-- or in the case of reading, finding a clear end to the story.

 

She thought back to what Hammond said, and what they had all agreed on (excluding Murphy's random breakdown).  "This isn't our mission. Once we find gas and our own ride, it might be better to book it out of here and leave those two to what they were doing before."

 

 "We don't have a place to go. Camps gone. Everyone is dead." Addy's voice dropped with grief and mourning, but a planning that made her such a good survivor. She didn't let one emotion overcome logical thinking and solutions, but relied on the whole group to come to an agreement on their fate.

 

Garnett shifted, looking back towards Hammond for a moment before replying. "We'll find somewhere else. Let's focus on getting what we need before we jump that far ahead. We can't be certain what tomorrow's going to bring anyways."

 

A new day was a new dusk. Where you could only hope to live another hour of your life.

 

Doc turned, subtly pointing behind him to the boy and girl who remained unaware of what the conversation was about. "What about those two?"

 

"See if they want to tag along. If not, that's up to them."  Garnett reckoned, reasoning with them to form the end plan.

 

Warren could tell that Blake had been oddly silent and uncomfortable through the whole conversation. She was just waiting for the woman to speak her mind at this point.

 

 "So we're leaving that Hammond and Murphy guy by themselves?" Blake cracked, holding a curious tone to it with a hidden worry within. Warren couldn't understand why though.

 

 "They were by themselves before. Besides, not our mission not our problem. Hammond made that clear." Warren was sure Garnett had been listening to their conversation, if his reply to Blake's question was anything to go by.

 

Still confused on why the woman was so gung-ho but angry at Murphy left Warren even more confused at Blake's contradicting actions. "You're welcome to join them if you want, Blake. No one's holding you back." Warren spoke, earning almost an alarmed look from Blake.

 

Maybe Blake wanted to help bring an end to the zombie apocalypse? That was all Warren could really make of the woman's actions to the scenario.

 

Despite it, Blake went against Warren's thoughts. "No, it's just…I don't see how one guy is gonna handle traveling across the U.S by himself with the 'package'. Ya know?" Warren didn't miss the change in tone when referencing Murphy, but it was brief and forgotten as Garnett responded.

 

"Guess that's their problem to figure out." He shrugged, looking at the others to see their reactions to the given plan.

 

"So we need to find gas, a vehicle or two, and we're out of here? Sounds like a plan to me." Mack nodded, content with the plan to diverge from Hammond and Murphy by the end of it.

 

"Alright." Warren agreed, finally glad to have a proper plan formed. "I'll take first watch. You guys get some shut eye." The pounding of the zombies was only getting louder along with the incoherent gurgles, but the idea of sleep to keep their energy up was important, and when the time came to take it, most would do so if they were in a safe enough environment to at least get an hour's worth.

 

"I can keep watch with you." Garnett offered, but Warren rejected.

 

"I'm sure Hammond won't leave me to be the only one." She hadn't gained much of the man's trust either. "Get some rest."

 

With a quiet sigh, he nodded, heading over to a wall to hopefully convince himself to fall into an aware sleep. Glad that the others had taken her offer, she rested against a wall as well, but didn't get too comfortable to drift to sleep.

 

Instead, she watched-- for zombies, danger, or even checking over to those with her. After some time, a few had fallen asleep, but most of the others remained either relaxed or on high alert. Murphy and Blake were exceptions though. The man didn't seem all too relaxed, but not wary either.

 

He had a focused look on his face, seemingly lost in thought before his head snapped up to look towards her-- noticing that she had been watching him. Warren didn't refuse to look away, but neither did he, so after a while the unusual staring match was broken as Warren diverted her gaze to Blake.

 

She watched as Blake looked through the drawers or on the desks for papers and pencils. Once she found a couple pencils, she headed back over to her resting spot and started to write in her journal in the backpack she rarely ever took off.

 

Warren had asked a few times what she had been writing, but Blake always gave a half-assed response in return before hiding it in her backpack again. Usually, Blake only wrote when something major happened, so Warren took it that she was writing in something of a diary. Almost like how Addy recorded events that happened with the respected dates.

 

Despite herself, Warren started to relax, but she made sure to stay awake. It had been a long day. From finding out that everyone at camp was dead to traveling with the supposed cure for humanity. She wasn't sure how to feel or react. It was overwhelming to a point to face the emotions, so she pushed them back, occupying herself with making sure the remaining were safe from the zombies outside.

 

She wasn't sure how long it had been of the slight pounding that was fading off as background noise, before that escalated into a more exaggerated amount of pounding and gurgles. It sounded as if more zombies were crowding around the few outside, building up in more of a mob than they were faced with before.

 

Everyone was up on their feet again, the noise waking the few up as they all drew their weapons to take on the menacing beasts that were trying to force their way in. The door rattled with every hit as the zombies threw their bodies against the rotting door and blocking furniture.

 

The ones that had silent, hand-held weapons went to try to take out the mob by the open gaps--hoping that a quiet approach wouldn't draw more zombies. That attempt hadn't worked out as well as they were hoping though, as more kept accumulating, and they were forced to use their guns to take the z's down.

 

The door started to give way from the hinges as the shelves were pushed back--making a screeching sound as it moved across the floor like fingernails on a chalk board. The mass bodies of the zombies started to make their way through. The hands were first, prying in through the door as they twisted and bent their green, bony fingers in ways no normal human would.

 

They tried to crush all they could, hoping to hold the door up long enough to formulate a plan.

 

"This isn't gonna hold. Are you sure there's no exits?" Hammond yelled over the gunfire, and over Addy's shriek as the dead's hands grabbed ahold of her hair.

 

"No. Nothing!" Garnett yelled back, desperately looking around for something that they could use to defend themselves or another way out.

 

Blake's gun clicked as she frantically pulled the trigger, backing up from the door as she holstered her gun and grabbed her axe. "I'm out!"

 

"Get your fingers out of the door!" Doc chastised, whacking the zombified fingers with his hammers as some crushed while others curled into fists to stop the repetitive hitting.

 

Planning wasn't going so well, and neither was holding the zombies back, as everyone worked around the room like headless chickens. It was chaotic as they tried to keep the mass sea of zombies back-- fearing more for their lives at this point than any other objective.

 

The room just kept getting even more chaotic as the boy ran up the stairs, dodging the broken floorboards and disappearing into the unchecked territory.

 

"Hey!" Hammond called after him, but it was too late. The boy had already taken a turn and disappeared down the hall. With a frustrated sigh, Hammond motioned towards Warren, pointing towards the stairs before heading over to kill the overcrowding zombies. "Make sure he doesn't come back a zombie."

 

She nodded, walking halfway across the room and keeping her gun raised to the stairs. She wasn't able to get a clear shot with the others blocking her way, so Warren watched the commotion of them taking the zombies down, as she watched to make sure no Z's or a zombified version of the boy didn't come down to trap them completely.

 

"It isn't gonna hold!" She wasn't sure why Murphy seemed even more frantic than the rest. There was a different fear in his eyes than just the zombies, but Warren couldn't quite make of what it was. She wanted to sum it up as his trauma from getting eaten by the zombies, but then again, it wasn't a similar fear.

 

Just an odd, panicked look in his eyes.

 

Like Murphy said, the door didn't hold much longer, as it broke from the hinges and started to fall inward. The zombies piled on top of one another to get their free meals, ravenous in their actions as they snarled and bit at the air, craving for human flesh.

 

Taking her aim from the stairs, she shot what she could-- keeping her aim as precise as she could as the others backed up or moved out of her way. The bodies fell in the doorway, helping to aid the group as the dead's bodies acted as a helpful barricade-- adding onto the furniture already piled up.

 

"Where are we going?!" Mack yelled, distressed as he started to make his way to the back of the room in hopes that it was safer there than up front.

 

Another wave of the zombies crashed through, running the group low on ammo even more than they already were. Desperately, they tried to keep the zombies back as much as they could--piking and shooting, but the actions were futile in only delaying their death.

 

Another zombie snarled in the doorway, Hammond aiming to give it mercy before something whizzed through the air and sliced through the zombie's brain. The gear, as Warren could tell, came from somewhere upstairs, and that was enough to give her confirmation on who was helping above.

 

More zombies started to drop, but it wasn't enough to deem any of them safe. They all started to back up from the door and closer to the deteriorating steps, killing what they could along the way.

 

Warren heard a thud come from upstairs, as she quickly reverted her attention up, and then aimed towards the stairs. Looks like the boy didn't have much luck with zombies upstairs either. She waited for a zombified version of the boy to crash down the stairs, but held back from shooting luckily when he came around the corner-- human and alive.

 

"This way!" He motioned, aiming his slingshot above their heads to mercy the zombies prowling their way over.

 

"Come on!" Hammond yelled towards the others, letting them get up the stairs first before taking the rear--trying to kill as many as he could from the backend.

 

Blake seemed hesitant to make her way up the rotting stairs again. They didn't have time for this. Warren pushed her up the stairs, nearly dragging the grown woman with her so that they could make it to the top without Blake stopping to make sure every damn step wasn't rotted.

 

Murphy made it to the top first, rounding a corner after the boy as they all followed closely behind. Wherever they were being led, it was far, as the halls began to darken, and the rooms all started to look the same. Finally, they turned into a room as the boy opened the door, everyone rushing in as Warren cautiously looked over her shoulder for the oncoming zombies.

 

She could hear them but didn't see them.

 

Murphy held the door open, and looked divided between closing the door on Blake and holding it open for her. Either way, he didn't have a choice as Hammond pushed the door open for him and Blake before closing it once everyone was in the room.

 

Warren didn't spare the room much of a glance, ignoring the fine details of the cluttered office where she supposed a boss or someone important worked. She was too antsy over the zombies outside to really care. She could hear the gurgles and stomping of feet making their way closer to the smell of flesh.

 

The air was tense as everyone looked around the room-- all on high alert as most still kept their weapons raised towards the doors. Hammond was an exception as he hastily walked over to the window, looking down to what was outside before drawing his attention back to the others.

 

"There's a fire escape here. If we're quiet enough, we can make our way down and back to the trucks." He planned, deciding for the whole group rather than clearly running it by them. Any plan was better than none.

 

They all made their way to the window-- The girl going first, then Doc, Addy, Blake, Mack, Garnett, the boy, and her. Murphy and Hammond stayed until last as Warren climbed through the unkempt window and onto the rusted metal of the fire escape that creaked with each movement from her and the ones below.

 

She swallowed nervously, carefully making her way down as she heard Murphy and Hammond speak.

 

"Should we take the elevator this time?" The mock in Murphy's tone was evident as she looked up to see him gesturing out the window. "Or are the stairs better?"

 

She heard the grumble of Hammond as he shoved Murphy towards the window. "Shut up."  His tone didn't seem as playful, but more-so annoyed to, what Warren assumed was, an ongoing joke.

 

"Got it…Y." She could almost hear the smirk in his words as Murphy made his way out the window and onto the fire escape, winking down towards her as he did so.

 

Warren ignored it, jumping down at the last step with a quiet thud in hopes that they would make it back to the vehicles without any further disruptions.

 

---line break---

Blake's POV:

 

After the near fright of her life, Blake would say she was decently worn out from the major heart attack she was expecting. With her useless pistol tucked against her side, she clung to her axe like it was her lifeline as they made their way down the alleyways and back to the trucks.

 

She could still hear the gurgles of the stampede of zombies back in the office building, but with each step the group took, the more distant the sound became. Regardless, all of them were still on high alert as the ventured back to the vehicles.

 

So much for a peaceful stop. Not that she expected one in the apocalypse, but she always hoped for one. Silently, and to herself, she couldn't help but mumble at her choice of wording. Hope. Damn hope that never comes.

 

Hammond was leading the front with Mr. Murphy behind him. She hadn't known Mr. Murphy to be much of a fighter from what the Risen had told her, but she was stood corrected with the number of times he aimed his gun and killed. Not that she saw that as a free pass for admiration. Nothing he did, even if he was trying to redeem himself, could make up for what he committed against humanity, and she wouldn't slack on her belief of that only to make her vulnerable. 

 

She knew how the man worked. The second you think good about him, he'll turn and do something bad. Blake wasn't going to fall for it--she couldn't. If she did, she'd be jeopardizing the human race, and it was her job to not let that happen.

 

Warren, Garnett, Doc, Mack and Addy walked either in a single file line or next to each other depending on the way you looked at them. They stayed in a group with one another, but not with the others like Hammond, Mr. Murphy, Cassandra, or Thomas. At that point, it was more spread out and dispersed as they warily checked around for the known danger.

 

Blake hadn't thought the group would be so distant when they meant, but she should have expected it. You don't just become friends with someone on your first meeting, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Problem was, it did, and it played too much of an effect on the story.

 

The group wasn't a group at the moment. They were strangers surviving and willing to leave. Blake hadn't thought of this as a complication after nearly three years of hanging out with the few of them. Back before they time-traveled-- in the 'past life'-- Blake had looked at the group as an unstoppable creature; a different breed that was meant to take this mission and save the world.

 

She hadn't looked at them as normal people looking to survive. She hadn't seen them as people who had been roped into saving the human race. Yet, that was exactly what they were. Traumatized people who were going through the same thing as everybody else but had the weight of the world latched across their shoulders to bear.

 

It wasn't right that she considered them different than her, but she had for years. Blake had looked at them for inspiration in her darkest times back before she had left Altura. Something admirable that could save the world, and yet they were just like her trying to save the world.

 

Blake wasn't sure if that was more admirable or not.

 

Regardless, the fact that she had made them out to be something completely different was causing a shift in plans as these 'normal people' now saw no reason to assist in escorting Murphy to California because Mark Hammond was still breathing.

 

Blake knew she was supposed to save the man, but the fact that he was alive was causing more troubles than not, and Blake wasn't sure how to solve it. She knew death could be prevented now-- since she had done so with her daughter on multiple occasions, but the fact of death being averted offered more of the unknown to be let in.

 

Which managed to change her plans and convincing tactics drastically.

 

"Up here." Snapping her out of her thoughts, Hammond whispered to them, motioning over to the trucks that they had parked, hidden from sight. They all followed, picking the rides that were closest and being as quiet as all the others.

 

The usual drivers (Warren, Doc, and Hammond) all took their vehicles that they were driving prior, as everyone loaded up in the seats that they had been in before. That is, almost everyone.

 

Hammond wanted Mr. Murphy to be back in the deuce and a half since he was his 'mission' and without a choice, Mr. Murphy obliged. She didn't miss as he gave her a glare, probably praying that she didn't decide to travel in the same truck as he nearly pleaded that Addy stay while Blake didn't.

 

Blake was quick though, not wanting to leave Mr. Murphy's side when she was also responsible for him for Operation Do-Over. With a little bribing, she was able to convince Addy to go with Doc, Cassandra, and Thomas who were in the trucks.

 

With that, Blake ended up seated beside Mr. Murphy; a proud smirk lining her face as an agitated one lined the dictator's. She didn't care for it though, scooting into the deuce and a half as she quietly shut the door. Hammond looked in the review mirror, and once seeing that everybody was loaded up and ready to go, he turned on the truck and pulled out as fast as he could so they could get away from the pack of zombies as quickly as possible.

 

It wasn't long before that hope was ruined, as the zombies easily heard the three cars and scrambled their way over. Despite their constant dodging while driving, some ended up as speed bumps caught up on the front and under the wheels.

 

"Couldn't we just have left her?" Mr. Murphy leaned forward in his seat to the back of Hammond's, looking out the window and nearly pleading with the man to drop Blake off somewhere else.

 

"Not the time, Murphy." Hammond's frustrated grumbles were enough as the car lurched forward, bounced, sped up, and bounced again with Hammond nearly cussing with every jump.

 

With a grumble of his own, Mr. Murphy leaned back in his seat, side-eyeing Blake with a glare that she couldn't ignore. He acted as if she was the one to wrong him and the team. She wasn't! If it hadn't been for him wanting to rule over the world, none of this would have happened. They only reason they were back in time was because he couldn't live in a damn functioning and rebuilding society without ruling over it!

 

Mr. Murphy had been the one to turn the group into blends, and now he acted as if they were the most important thing to him. He had been the one to wrong them-- force them under his command and worm his way into their minds, and yet here he acted as if he were they're best friend for years. He put them on the battlefield to fight for him! He made them do what he wanted without a say of their own. How could you consider that a best friend? How could you look at that as something good, and blame the other side for messing something 'so perfect' up?

 

Blake wasn't going to excuse the Risen. She hated what they did, and even after four years of thinking and remembering it, she wasn't going to forgive them. They committed murder over thousands of innocents; over people who didn't have control of their own or infants that were too young to even talk--walk no less. She could never excuse that, and she knew Mr. Murphy wouldn't either. Rightfully so.

 

But to only blame the Risen? Mr. Murphy would be graveling mistaken there. He did as much wrong as the Risen did, and here they were back in time to right their wrongs and save lives. She never considered Mr. Murphy to be a part of the breed that Warren and the others were a part of. The dictator was completely different from the rest in her opinion-- and just as Madalyn had said--not human. A Blend Ruler.

 

A dictator.

 

No, Mr. Murphy wasn't a part of the same unstoppable breed she had amped Operation Bitemark to be, and he was certainly far from ever being her favorite. She had always been tempted with the thought that when she first met him back in time, she'd put a bullet through his skull and decide to do the mission over again with a different Savior of Humanity out of the other two prisoners of her own choosing. That was what she had been instructed to do if Mr. Murphy had gone against their rules.

 

Mr. Murphy hadn't stepped out of line (sadly) and she wasn't able to complete the fantasy that she had dreamed of since the beginning of the time travel bedlam. She knew she could've though. None of the other Risen would have been around to tell her not to, and quite frankly, Blake knew they would probably just watch or take part in the action.

 

Yet, Blake knew her place in Operation Do-Over and Operation Bitemark, and she knew she couldn't. Despite the ruckus it would cause, Blake knew she had been assigned this job solely because they knew she wouldn't follow through on those fantasies. Maybe for the better, or maybe for the worse; she didn't know. Blake knew that if it be any of the other Risen, they would have put a bullet in the man's head immediately, and left without another word. That they would allow their ignorance and hatred to take over for their competence and loyalty to what need to happen.

 

Yet, not fully.  There was an odd thing about the Risen that she had picked up over the years of being a part of their team. They had differing views than what they portrayed. She came to realize that they liked to inflict pain on the one that caused them pain and trauma, but they were too foolish to realize that that wouldn't help their case. Sure, they may murder the man in cold blood to feel like they fulfilled something, but they'd end up going right back in time, and make Mr. Murphy the Savior of Humanity again.

 

Because the Risen believed in change and choice, but they also believed in fulfillment of their own pleasures with their own choice. With power at their disposal, they would do both. Change Mr. Murphy and hurt and kill him. That was a defining line between Blake and the Risen. She didn't believe that the man would change, but she didn't believe in fulfilling her fantasies first either.

 

Mission for success, before failure and retries.

 

Get it down the first time, and if that fails, do what you have to and make it work. Mr. Murphy hadn't disobeyed back in time, so she wasn't going to kill or torture him. Not like the other members of the Risen. That had been explained to her right before this wacky adventure started, and that was the reason she was the only one to be put on Operation Do-Over.

 

Now to say that was a compliment, she didn't know, but if it meant being stuck by Mr. Murphy for a couple of years, she'd take it that this was her punishment from hell.

 

But she'd have to take the punishment if it meant the world would be saved. That is, if she found a way to keep Operation Bitemark from falling apart on the first day of meeting.

 

She wouldn't let this be the diverging point.

Notes:

Not gonna lie, when I was younger and watching Z-Nation for the first time, the effect that these were every day survivors was lost on me. Then again, I was into superheroes, so that explain a lot for that mindset. Anyhow, I still added it in, because it was a 'revelation' (if you so choose to put it) for me.

I think I ended 10K's POV poorly in Puppies and Kittens Remake (Part Three). If anyone is willing to answer, do you think I should change it?

Bye for now and have a great week (or since *checking time*, it's 12 A.M. on Sunday, have a great weekend as well!)

Coming Soon:
Fracking Zombies Remake (Part One)

Chapter 10: Fracking Zombies Remake (Part One)

Summary:

Overview: In need of gas, the team follows a suspicious stranger to a damaged oil refinery deep inside a New Jersey zone packed with zombies. With lack of trust and better judgement, the situation takes a different turn than what Murphy remembered, as Simon struggles to contact the group and understand what is happening.

Notes:

Hi! I meant to put "Remake" after all the chapter titles that are from the show, but I stupidly forgot it for Puppies and Kittens. Sorry. I'll try to keep up on that, since it is the episode, but portrayed differently because of time travel. Thus, not Puppies and Kittens, but the second one making it Puppies and Kittens Remake.

Does that make sense?

Also, thank you to hesperus_stwarzs and doctor_bog. Your comments brightened my day and gave me motivation to know there are people who are still fond of where this story is going!

Blake's POV:

 

When the roads are bumping with every inch you lurch forward, you know Roberta Warren was ramming head on into Zs. 

 

They had stopped at a pitiful gas station halfway through their expedition to the Tappan Zee Bridge in hopes that they would find a morsel of food to sustain some of the group. They hadn't had much luck, but the town they stopped in was vast in stores, so they ended up checking most of the buildings with high hopes. Those hopes had been dragged down by the end of it, as they only found a couple of granola bars, a jug of water, and switched drivers.

 

Warren and Garnett were now in the deuce and a half, with Hammond, Cassandra and Mr. Murphy taking the SUV. Blake had been hesitant to leave the Blend dictator with the Army Lieutenant, but since she knew Hammond knew how to handle the man, she felt a little safer. Especially given that Hammond had to deal with Mr. Murphy for a whole year and managed to not blow his brains out because of it.

 

Blake was with the rest of the group, as Mack and Addy gripped onto the handles above the door to keep themselves from hitting their heads on the roof. Thomas had taken to sniping on the roof a couple of times, but after Warren decided to take a little fun while she drove, he had reluctantly stopped with a grumble, finding that it was harder to shoot while experiencing a Disneyland's Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

 

Blake knew better than to stay in the back since last time she got a bruise on her forehead, so she opted to sit behind Doc as the older man, tried as he would, tried to keep steady driving as they rumbled over another crushed zombie body.

 

"You think she's gonna stop?" Mack asked, squeezing the headrest of the car seat, preparing for yet another speed bump.

 

"Doubt it, kid. Looks like she's havin' fun though." Doc swerved some, trying to miss a zombie that started to charge towards the trucks.

 

"She keeps it up, and I'm sure we'll have hell to pay with Hammond." Blake could already see that the man was getting frustrated with the constant bumps if by how his driving started to become sloppier and sloppier was anything to go by. Almost as if to prove her point, Hammond started to honk the horn towards Warren, holding down with the last honk as it dragged on.

 

"And if he keeps that up, we'll be attracting more Zs." Addy grumbled in reply, looking at the closed window before a gush of blood sprayed onto it. "Ew." She drawled out, noticing the smushed brains and peeling green flesh that mixed into the blood.

 

Blake did a quick double-back, checking to see if Thomas had gotten anything on him as well. He didn't seem to have, but he shifted away from the side Addy was on, probably assuming that it was safer.

 

It wasn't though.

 

They were finally in the clear after they got off the bridge, but Warren started to slow down in front, the deuce ever so slightly creeping to a stop as she pulled over. When they got to a nearly clear spot on the road, they all started to pull over, as everyone unloaded out of the trucks.

 

Addy was first to get out from the truck, heading over to Warren as they high fived one another. "Well that was fun while it lasted."

 

Warren laughed slightly, smiling towards the redhead as Hammond got out of the SUV, followed by Mr. Murphy and Cassandra. "Out of gas." She informed as Hammond walked over to the two.

 

"Did you have to hit all of them?" His voice sounded disapproving to the matter, but Warren ignored it, heading over to the smoking tire on the truck Doc was driving. Everyone at this point, minus Thomas, had gotten out of the trucks, stretching their legs or helping out.

 

"One less zombie we gotta kill later." Was Warren's simple answer as she brushed past Blake with a gleeful smile. Blake rolled her eyes, smiling down towards the woman.

 

"Hope you had fun." Blake whispered. " 'Cuz Hammond didn't." She couldn't help but pick fun at the matter, even though she really had no disdain for Hammond. He was also a part of her mission, but she might-as-well make light of the situation when she could. Right?

 

"It was worth it." Was Warren's reply, a light smirk across her face as Hammond spoke.

 

"SUV's runnin' on nothing but fumes." He informed, opting to chew them out later on being reckless drivers.

 

"What about you, Doc?" Garnett hopped into the conversation as he stood near the SUV's front and monitored what was happening.

 

"Not enough to get us far." Doc informed gravely, shaking his head as he looked at the smoking tire.

 

They briefly checked it over, as Blake made her way closer to Mr. Murphy, keeping the man in her sight as he started to venture closer to the road.

 

"Whatcha think you're doing?" Mr. Murphy turned towards her as she spoke, a scowl across his face.

 

"Getting away from you." He spat, taking a couple of steps closer to the trucks, and away from her. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. With Warren, it was a fond gesture. With Mr. Murphy it was the exact opposite.

 

"Can't run far." She didn't have time for the dictator's snark, but not much time was offered to her anyways as Mack started to walk out from behind the truck.

 

He spoke with alarm in his voice, notifying the others as his hand reached towards his .22. "Heads up. We got company."

 

Despite the man's quiet protest, she dragged Mr. Murphy back to the sides of the trucks and closer to Hammond as two people on motorcycles started to speed down the road. Everyone gathered closer together, besides Cassandra who snuck off to the back of the truck and turned around. Blake eyed her cautiously for a second, trying to understand why before looking to Mr. Murphy.

 

He had noticed Cassandra's behavior as well, but didn't seem too alarmed or surprised, so she took it that this all happened before. Not that it meant it was good or bad, but Blake would make sure to find out soon enough.

 

Nobody cared if they looked threatening or not as they raised their weapons in defense to intimidate the oncoming survivors. The group was at a disadvantage, and they weren't going to take chances with someone that could be more dangerous. Mr. Murphy knew what these people were like (or Blake hoped he knew) so she assumed they were better off to look scary than weak. Then again, didn't that apply to every situation?

 

Some of the group were hidden in the rising smoke, that being one of the main sources of cover that Cassandra used as the motorcyclists started to slow, but not stop. Hammond was first to raise his gun in warning, his Y-shaped scar pulling up in the corners as he eyed the oncoming drivers who stared back with a sense of danger in their eyes.

 

"That's right. Keep rolling and we all live to see another day." Warren spoke with a gentle tone, the underlying threat lying clear as she kept her hand on her sheathed machete, while the other rested on her gun.

 

Once they got passed Garnett who was watching from the end, their engines rumbled in reply before they sped off, swerving about the street and down the hill. The second they were gone, Cassandra moved out of her hiding, ignoring Blake's stare or Mr. Murphy's knowing look. Everyone was quick to take action after that, Warren, Doc and Hammond attempting to fix Doc's tire as the others stayed guard, or looked down the hill to where the two people had sped off to with a sense of curiosity.

 

"We ran over some fun stuff." Was Doc's deduction to Warren's observation as they tried to pry the tire off. Blake could see, as Warren and Hammond slowly removed the tire, guts stuck to the wheel and the putrid smell of rotting flesh immediately mixed with the smell of gasoline.

 

Mr. Murphy started to back up with a look of disgust on his face as the corners of his mouth twitched with his scrunching nose to the snarling zombie crushed within the tire wheel. Her whole face was ripped to the bone as flesh hung off of her and fell to the ground. An overexaggerated amount of blood was caked across her and the innerworkings of where she was stuck, dripping onto the ground and down her face like rain water in a leaking shutter.

 

"Well that explains the pull to the left." Doc weakly stated, his own disgust and pity lining his face as he looked at the zombie. Blake could say the same, imagining the horror of being pulled into the car wheel to end up like that. Zombie or not, it was gruesome all the same.

 

"Not much of a sight." Mr. Murphy said, pushing past her with a tad bit of force as she stumbled forward. Tempted to push him back, she stopped, but watched cautiously hating to have him interact with the group.

 

"Or much alive. Let's get it out of there before we waste anymore time out in the open." Hammond commanded, coming up behind Warren as she grabbed a tire iron to mercy the undead creature.

 

"All right, you." Warren geared up, fixing to swing at the beast. "Time to go home." Whatever home that be.

 

With a simple pike, the zombie was mercied without a spray off blood on those of the group that turned away. Warren dropped the tire iron, giving a small curtsy to Hammond before walking away, leaving the brains to gush out of the zombies head that Hammond and Mr. Murphy were pulling out of the rim.

 

Numerous of Mr. Murphy's gagging later, the two managed to get the mangled zombie out and onto the ground, the already lifeless eyes veering off into the distance in the zombie's matted hair.

 

"Poor thing." Addy mumbled, following after Warren as the others caught up. The only one to stay back at the truck was Thomas, who hadn't left the truck bed since the beginning.

 

Mr. Murphy followed quickly after Warren, Blake assuming that he didn't want to get dragged to the side to have a talk about time travel that she had been holding off until they had proper downtime. Blake didn't want the group to know about this, since it would only make them look at her and the dictator like they were delusional. That wouldn't help her case, and besides that, the Risen had told Blake that she wasn't allowed to inform any of the group.

 

Perils of time travel, or whatever. At that point, it sounded more like movie rules than real life. Then again, zombies, so what more could she say.

 

Nearly all of them walked to the end of the road before it dipped down into a hill. They gazed to the city-- tall buildings gleaming with the early sun shining down on it. Fog scattered across the landscape as lush vines and weeds grew throughout both the city and nature.

 

Blake couldn't help but wonder if the world was better off this way. Without pollution and humans, the structures that had stood tall now shone back with the beauty of nature than the improvement of the human race. The wild life that hadn't been affect by the virus roamed freely, singing their songs or scavenging in desolated buildings for shelter.

 

The world had so much freedom now, but with that, came death. She couldn't help but think that the world had sent the virus to rid it of human life and start all over. That God had decided to take His hand, bringing an end to the world He created. Like the second coming was near and anytime now, Jesus would descend from Heaven to free those from the bondage of the world to live in peace with Him.

 

Blake knew that wasn't true though. She had been forward in time, and the past life showed no idea that there would be peace in Heaven soon. That God hadn't played His hand in the destruction, rather it was the scientist looking to test. It was humans looking to destroy-- nature and humans all together.

 

If they were looking to keep the world from overpopulating, they had sure found one hell of a way to do so.

 

But with the destruction, beauty preserved, and it was enough to make them stare in awe at what the city had become.

 

"Even after all this, " Warren started, taking a deep breath of fresh air as she looked at the city. " This is still beautiful." She shook her head in amazement.

 

"It's home." Garnett wishfully stated, looking along the vast range of buildings that rose into the clouds and gleamed in the sky's light.

 

"We'll come back." Some day. Blake added mentally. She knew it would be a long time, but she still had a daughter here that she had to return to. If she could hold the team together, it would be some time before they ever saw the Big Apple, but they'd come back. Blake would make sure of it.

 

"You won't be gone for long." It was Hammond who spoke from the back of the group, getting an antsy look from Mr. Murphy at the unhopeful news to their plans. "You find a truck or so, and will head right back here."

 

"But when do our plans ever go right?" Addy asked no one in particular, recording the city from the distance to preserve into her visible memories.

 

"I'm gonna say never." Mr. Murphy guessed, rolling his shoulders back as he started to head back to the trucks.

 

Hammond sighed, everyone giving the beautiful city of New York one last look before making their way back to find more gas for the trucks.

 

---line break---

Simon's POV:

 

"Mount Wilson, this is Northern Light. Come in." He wasn't sure how long he had been running his voice hoarse in hopes of contacting someone.

 

"Mount Wilson, this is Citizen Z." Simon started, using his code name in hopes of getting some kind of contact. Any at all! He would be happy. More than happy, even, just to talk to someone. To know they were okay and hadn't been infected by the beast lurking outside. "Making sure you're all still in business."

 

Last Simon had heard, he fried all of Mount Wilson's notes in hopes of getting them out of there. Now, he heard not a single ounce of reply back to even know if they got out. He couldn't think straight enough. He hoped his stupid, out-of-the-blue Deja-vu would finally come in handy, but he had swore against his luck, and had nothing.

 

No one to talk to; to contact-- not a single soul he could hear. Not even a 'memory' as to what happens next.

 

All they all dead?

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta."

 

Were they alive?

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta."

 

He spun in his chair, the insanity of loneliness and quietness overriding his sense.

 

Had they succumb to the fate of becoming brain eating monsters who roamed the Earth in hopes of a meal?

 

"Do you copy?"

 

He couldn't help but laugh as nothing came in return. Was he just destined to be alone? Was the world's plan to cut out any communication when he had the whole damn world in his view?

 

"Does anybody copy?" He was desperate. He knew Hammond had glitched. He knew that. The idea that Hammond had lived this long was already grating on the last of his sanity because no one lived that long. Simon had thought that that was it after he lost contact. He was expecting the call of Hammond to be dead, but that hadn't come. The man himself answered, and Simon had been over delighted, but confused all the more.

 

There was something off, but he couldn't place what-- other than Hammond's lack of death and mercy. Not that he wished for that, he never did, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was unnatural.

 

His laughing only continued, more pained as he ran his hand across his forehead. "Does anybody copy?"

 

He just needed to know.

 

"Operation Bitemark." Someone had to be alive. Murphy, Hammond, someone! They couldn't all be dead. Not all of them. There had to be one person around that could answer. Someone who could explain.

 

"Operation Bitemark." He tried again through hysterical laughs, spinning in his chair again like a toddler. Someone was alive. He felt it.

 

Somehow.

 

"This is Citizen Z from Camp Northern Light broadcasting live from all known frequencies." He voice fell as he completed his 360 spin, a fake smile plastered across his face as he tried to keep his hope up and insanity down. "Even a few nobody knows about."

 

He could literally hear, see, and research people all he wanted. Radios in trucks and cars; a transmitter somewhere. Hell. He'll even take Morse code if somebody knew it.

 

His voice raised with his stress and uncertainty as he spoke.

 

 "If you have any way at all to communicate-- any way at all. If you got short-wave, long wave, dark wave, broadband, x-band…two cups and a string, " Simon's voice lowered to a pleading as he got up out of his seat, pacing the room rather than rolling in the chair, quickly becoming antsy and anxious as the lack of reply continued.

 

"--Smoke signals." He finished his list, the bubbling of a laugh forming yet again that he couldn't hold back. "Anything. Just get back to me." Someone…please!

 

He threw his hands up, stopping his pacing as he argued with the static monitor glaring helplessly back at him. "I've got a satellite. I'll see it!" He finally yelled, motioning his hands back towards the monitor in hopes that it would do something. In hopes somebody would hear and respond…so he wouldn't be so alone.

 

Nothing. Nothing came in reply as the monitor in the middle never revived. Simon stared at it expectantly, hoping-- praying something would happen. Not a single thing did, and he was left hopeless and discouraged as he wandered halfway out of the room, and to a mirror he had taken off the wall and moved into his main communications area.

 

He gazed at his frantic self-- just hoping that he would see some kind of glitch. Zombie, dead, an older human. He didn't care! Just something to know he hadn't gone practically insane, and all those people he saw glitch hadn't all just been made-up completely. That he was something similar to all of them.

 

No glitch startled him as his form remained exactly the same, and Simon couldn't help but let out a shaky breath before heading back to the monitors.

 

If someone was out there, they'd get back to him. He hadn't abandoned Operation Bitemark, and they weren't going to abandon him either.

 

"Alright." He made his way back, standing in front of his screens with a new sense of purpose. "Anyone from Operation Bitemark. This is Citizen Z from Camp Northern Light. I have an update for you on the California situation." His voice now held a work-like tone to it, hoping that it would somehow convey the important news. "We need to discuss some operational realities. Mount Wilson, do you copy?"

 

His question was again left unanswered, and Simon wished he knew otherwise.

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta, do you copy?" Simon desperately pleaded again, dropping into his chair with defeat as his head bounced looking from one side of the room to the other.

 

Not a single soul replied, and after hours upon hours of trying to reach somebody, nothing came through. He couldn't tell if they were dead or off grid, but with his Deja-vu and glitches, Simon knew which one was more prominent.

 

He started to panic, clasping his hands together and bringing them behind his head to try to calm himself. Nothing helped and nobody was getting back, and the revelation was only leaving him to be more disturbed and frightened.

 

"I can't believe I lost everybody…Hammond. Murphy? Mount Wilson? Is anybody there?"

 

He's all alone.

 

Simon sighed, nearly about to slam his head against his table before an alarm started to beep in a spiral. Hastily, he rose from his seat, checking the monitors that were capturing footage of something outside of the base. He dismissed his headphones, looking at the image of a person and a dogsled that ran in the snowfall.

 

"Is that a dogsled?" He couldn't help but question aloud, squinting at the picture to see the hounds' paws kicking up snow, and the human riding along with a hood over their head.

 

This time, a new sense of panic washed over him as he stared at the monitor. The view was too fogged, and his random glitching wasn't working at the moment, but he could definitely see that they were alive. That there was a person…someone alive.

 

"Is that people?!" He hadn't seen a living soul for a full year now. He hadn't had any proper interactions. No one to talk to, hug, play a game with, drink with, nothing. The idea to have someone else around was vast, but the hope bursting within him was too much to compensate and think logically.

 

 "I…I think it's people! Oh thank God! Somebody's here! Finally."  His voice raised in excitement as he nearly shouted with joy. A person! A real living person! He never thought this day would come. God, he thought he would be trapped here forever without a soul to communicate with.

 

He ran a hand along his face in an attempt to keep his excitement contained, but he couldn't; Not after this long.

 

His brain function finally kicked back in. People need food. They're probably starving. God, it's the apocalypse, everyone was. He had food. Simon had more than plenty. "Snacks! They're gonna want snacks!" Of course they were. Everyone wants snacks. "They're…They'll be hungry."

 

His whole place was a mess. He hadn't had the mind to clean, but what type of home owner would he be if he let somebody into his spiral of a sad makeshift home? " I've got to clean up the bathroom. People!"

 

His excitement started to dissipate as they dogs slowed and fell over, and their heat signatures were lost from the camera as all stilled but the snow. "Wait. People or…" His glitching hadn't caught up with the picture, so he wasn't sure if they were alive or zombie. Should he really take his chances though?

 

He bent down, picking up his .9 millimeter for caution as he thought it over. He couldn't trust people. You couldn’t trust zombies. If you did, you'd be dead before you could pull the trigger.

 

Quickly shrugging on his jacket, Simon hurriedly made his way down the hall. With a deep breath, he pressed the button to open the door, hopefully prepared enough to take on whatever was waiting for him outside. He shone his flashlight out in the falling snow, slowing once he saw what was before him.

 

The dogs that had been running through the snow now laid frozen across the ground. The piling snow was already covering their frozen forms. He shone his flashlight directly on them, watching as they started to glitch before his eyes into the inhuman flesh-eating beasts. Simon looked away, turning his view to the person who (what he first assumed was alive) was now as frozen as his dogs.

 

He made his way closer to the man who started to glitch as well. It wasn't a long glitch, but Simon could make out the rotting flesh, and peeling skin. The person's eyes however, where not zombified, and a bullet had been placed in the man's skull. It stopped all too quickly as the man turned back into the popsicle of a human he was now; although, Simon would admit that the man wasn't all too much human looking anyhow. His eyes were bloodshot and frozen open, as the person's whole face was covered in icicles and the falling snow.

 

Simon raised his gun, pointing it towards the frozen man's head. So much for another human being. He hesitated pulling the trigger, looking away as his hand shook. Not from the cold, but his own fear and pity to having to do so. Without another moments more, he forced himself to pull the trigger, the shot firing as the sound echoed throughout the cold, black night.

 

He refused to spare the now dead man a look, but he didn't have to as a whine cried from the ground. It didn't sound dead, but…alive. Oh God, something was alive! Simon looked down to the couple dogs he hadn't watched as all of them glitched into zombie forms but one.

 

This one glitched to something normal, but fully dead all the same. He hadn't seen that glitch before, but he was more than relieved to have something different than a horrifying zombie. Nearly tripping over himself, he made his way over to the dog, who laid still but whined again.

 

To see something alive, Simon couldn't help but breathe a drawn out breath of excitement. After all this time, there was something. A dog that was alive-- dying but alive, right at his feet. He shown his flashlight on it again, just to make sure it didn't glitch into a zombie, or it wasn't already one, but the more he looked at it, the more alive it became.

 

He put his ear to its chest, praying that he heard the more distinct whine above the wind. As he did so, the sound filtered into his ear, and Simon could do nothing more than laugh in joy and shock.

 

Thank God! Something was alive other than him!

 

Shifting the dog in his arms, he picked it up as he set his gun on his side. The dog whined in what Simon assumed was protest again, but he tried to shift the dog into the most comfortable position as he carried it back to his base. The dog snuggled up against his heat, and Simon couldn't help but smile.

 

After all this time.

 

He started to walk back into the base, sparing a glance behind him as he walked through the halls. The dead, frozen dogs laid stiff amongst the snow with their owner he had shot through the head. He couldn't risk it. If they unfroze and got in, him and his new dog friend would be dead.

 

Without a second thought, he closed the door behind him to keep the zombie dogs outside, and him and the alive dog inside.

 

----line break-----

10K's POV:
 

They managed to make a fair distance up to a mall with cars acting as a barricade all around it. Hammond had asked for all of them to split up and syphon gas in hopes that they would get some fuel. Tommy didn't have too high of hopes though. He had been paired with Doc as the others wondered around the wasteland terrain.

 

Warren and Garnett were the only two who were scouting above from on top of an RV, but they weren't missing much on the ground. Tommy and Doc had been checking near the far right side, and found less than a pint. It wasn't much, and Tommy knew it wasn't going to get them anywhere in the long run.

 

Despite it, they kept searching for gas, food, ammo--- practically anything that had been left behind that was of any use. Or, Doc did the searching more-so. Tommy had opted to syphon gas for the time being, but he already knew it was going to be a futile attempt.

 

Him and Doc hadn't talked much since they had been paired, but Tommy didn't mind. Every now and again, Doc would try to start up a conversation while driving or searching, but it always ended with the older man talking and Tommy listening. Doc didn't seem to care though, and Tommy hadn't either. For some reason, he enjoyed being in Doc's company. There was something about the older man that Tommy couldn't place, but whatever it be, Doc had owned up to being the one he liked best out of the group.

 

However, the silence only lasted so long before Doc tried yet again to spark a conversation.

 

"So what's your name, kid?" That's what they had been addressing him as when they needed to speak to him. Tommy hadn't really minded the nickname, but he felt bad for not giving his own. At that point, he hadn't been sure how long he would stay with the group--wasn't really sure how long now either, but either way he hadn't given them his name.

 

He had easily picked up theirs from how much they talked with one another, so he figured sooner or later, he'd have to give his own as well. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not he would give them his real name, nickname, or something entirely different.

 

Tommy wasn't…well… Tommy anymore. Tommy and Thomas had died along with his Pa, and from it came a new goal. He had used that goal a couple times as a nickname, but he hadn't thought he would stay with a group long enough to make it his 'full-time' name. But, with the situation, the name sounded appropriate for who he was.

 

"Ten Thousand." He finally spoke, waiting to hear Doc's reaction. Tommy--no, Ten Thousand, had gotten a lot of reactions when he did decide to use it. A laugh here or a scoff there. He wouldn't be surprised if Doc did either.

 

Like he thought, Doc gave a shocked laugh to his name, denying that it was. " That is not a name. That's a number."

 

"It's my name. Made it up myself."

 

Doc accepted it quicker than Ten Thousand thought he would. "Well I suppose you'd have to. Does it mean anything?"  Doc asked, going back to looking through the Jeep for anything worth-while. So far, Ten Thousand hadn't found any gas in the tank, dragging his hopes down further even though he already assumed there wouldn't be anything.

 

"How many zombies I'm going to kill." And Ten Thousand had gotten far into his goal too. That is, for nearly two years of killing the zombies.

 

"Well that's a whole lot of zombies." A whole bunch, he mentally agreed. Ten Thousand was lucky he was one of the people to count how many times one of the undead fell to the ground.

 

"Already on 1,055." Ten Thousand cleared, earning another shocked response from the older man.

 

"Damn! So what happens when you get to 10,000?"

 

Ten Thousand hadn't really thought of that. He had just come up with this being his name after all. He supposed it wasn't too farfetched of an idea to change it to something else though. Like you complete one goal and move on to the next, or something like that.

 

"Change my name." Ten Thousand declared, getting up from syphoning the gas once coming up with nothing, probably much to all their disappointment.

 

Doc popped up from looking inside the car. "To what? Twenty thousand?" Doc laughed at his own joke, going back to finishing checking the car.

 

No, he wouldn't change his name to another number. Sure, he might still add to his goal, depending on how long he lived, but maybe another name instead. He didn't really have to think hard on it, answering Doc almost immediately as he moved onto the next car beside them.

 

"Jeff."

 

He was actually quite fond of the name. Pa's name was Jefferey, and every time he heard the shortened name, it reminded him of his Pa. In the end, after he got to ten thousand, it only seemed right to honor his Pa with the name change. The man had gotten him this far, raised him, helped him survive, and had been his first kill to ten thousand. It only seemed right that his father be honored. Even if it was only a simple name change.

 

"I like the name Jeff." Ten Thousand didn't even have to look over to Doc to see his surprise or amusement to what he probably assumed was a simple and random name.

 

Ten Thousand ignored it though, walking fully up to the next car as a zombie stuck in the drivers seat snarled towards him. "Ah, shut up." With a simple draw of his knife, the blade sliced through the Z's head as blood splattered on the window.

 

1,056

 

-----line break-----

Murphy's POV:

 

The whole car junk yard barricade was a bust, just like last time. Obviously time travel hadn't change the amount of gas in the tanks. Just their luck. They had been looking through most of the cars on the ground, of course him and Hammond paired up, as the others traveled throughout the rest.

 

Besides Blake who wouldn't let him out of her sights. To be fair, it was starting to get on Murphy's nerves, and he was hoping Hammond would notice her to make her stop. That hadn't happened though as they all met up again with barely anything besides far less than a gallon of gas, two sticks of gum, and a vape that had little to nothing left in it.

 

Mission run: unsuccessful…again.

 

Nothing had really changed from last time, besides two people joining their group who hadn't before, but the unknown hadn't really increased to this point from it. Hammond surviving just meant another person leading the group and commanding them around, and Blake meant…well, just another mouth to feed.

 

"Where did everybody go? I haven't seen a survivor except for those two bikers." Warren asked, turning to Garnett and Hammond, the former shrugging as he responded.

 

"Black Summer. Everybody starved to death."

 

Murphy could see Cassandra shift at the mention of Black Summer, not daring to look anybody in the eyes as she nodded.

 

"I was in Philly for Black Summer." She sighed, keeping her gaze adverted as some of the others shifted their attention to her. "It was bad. I lost thirty pounds. Thought I was dead." She shoved whatever she was fixing into her satchel, keeping her back turned to the rest.

 

"Me too. Except, being kept in a cell doesn't really entitle running to lose what's left on your body." Murphy nodded. He had heard all this before. Cassandra ominously stating that she did what she had to do, and then later her past experience as a cannibal would haunt them all. The down and dreary mood was only the start of it.

 

Murphy didn't miss how Addy rolled her eyes at him for the third time today, or how Blake gave him a displeased look. Hammond only glared at him, that being enough to get Murphy to shut up as the conversation continued.

 

"How did you survive?" Addy asked, being the more sympathetic one.

 

Cassandra shrugged, biting the bottom of her lip as her forehead creased before she turned around to the rest of the group. "Did what I had to do."

 

With the lack of information that she gave, Murphy could see that Hammond was anxious to jump to question her on what exactly that meant.

 

"Which was…?" Hammond pried, his brows creasing forward waiting for her to continue. Cassandra hesitated, failing to come up with an excuse, but ultimately not having to as the douchebag cannibal biker interrupted them.

 

Murphy could already see the guy exiting the car, raising his hands in surrender as he stumbled across the barren wasteland. Murphy pointed his gun towards the man as Mack noticed as well, raising his .22 before Murphy alerted the rest of them.

 

"Hey!" With Murphy's commotion from behind, the others turned around swiftly, raising their guns towards the stranger who quickly backed up with fear.

 

"Woah-woah-woah-woah!" The cannibal-- whatever his name --- yelled, nervously looking between Warren, Garnett, Hammond, and then turning around to look at Mack and Blake who were behind him. The others lined the perimeter as all the weapons were trained on the man.

 

"Hold on. It's not a Z." Warren commanded, walking beside the man with her gun raised towards his head.

 

"Yeah, but it's a human. Permission to shoot him?" Murphy asked, smirking towards Hammond as he started to make his way closer to the cannibal. Hey! Kill him now and the problems already taken care of.

 

He could feel Hammond's glare even though it wasn't directed on him. "We're not gonna kill anyone."

 

"Yet." Murphy added, moving to Hammond's side, ready to put a bullet through the cannibal's eyes-- just for good measures.

 

Mack looked in the car that the cannibal had exited from as Cassandra shifted back to be hidden among the members. Murphy spared her a glance to what she was doing, and although noticing it, she denied to answer him back as to why, even though he already knew the reason.

 

"Peace. No bites here." The man said, shifting as Warren checked him over for weapons. "100 percent alive."

 

Some of the others went scouting around for the other member the man had been riding with as Garnett addressed it. "What happened to your friend?"

 

Murphy scoffed to himself, loud enough for everybody to hear. "What are we talkin' to him for? Let's leave." Murphy emphasized. The faster they could get away from the man, the less they had to deal with.

 

"Shut up Murphy." Hammond didn't spare him a glance as he followed suit with Warren, making sure the man was completely void of any weapon.

 

"Answer." Hammond prodded the man. "Where's your group?"

 

"Turns out he had other friends of low morals." The cannibal drew out, a certain hatred leaking in his words. Murphy couldn't tell if he was acting for his cannibal buddies, or if his friend had actually ditched him. The guy died too quickly for Murphy to figure out, or to really care. "Took my ride." The man informed as Warren dropped his weapon to his feet.

 

"Horse thieves should be shot." The man said, the slightest happiness in his words that Murphy hadn't picked up before. Regardless, none of them lowered their weapons on the man, knowing all too well that he could be a danger. Well, he is a danger, but only Murphy and Cassandra knew that.

 

"People should be shot." Murphy fired back. "Now?" He turned his attention to Hammond, waiting to be told that he could finally rid the man from this God-forbidden world.

 

Another glare was shot his way from Hammond, silently telling him to, 'Shut the hell up.'

 

Cassandra finally gained enough confidence again to confront her cannibal 'friend'. "You should chose better friends." She spat towards him, cocking her head to the side as she walked closer to him.

 

"Good…advice." The man drawled, his words falling as he looked over to Cassandra in astonishment. Probably surprised to see that she was with the group, and had found her for their messed up idea of a 'family'. God, how had they missed this last time? Would've saved them a lot of trouble.

 

"What can we do for you?" Warren asked less friendly then the question entitled. "One peaceful--"

 

"Dangerous." Murphy added, but Warren continued as if he hadn't said a thing.

 

"--group of humans to a lone traveler?" She finished.

 

To a deranged cannibal. Murphy added mentally, figuring Blake would shoot him in the ass if he said it aloud.

 

"Could use a lift." The man offered. "Sure don't want to spend the night out here alone." Murphy couldn't help but roll his eyes. And the group fell for this? Really?

 

"Doesn't work that way. Zombies cut out taxi services. All the drivers got eaten." Take one man in and you risk all of your well-being. Thus, the metaphor of the drivers getting eaten. Of course, besides Blake, the group hadn't picked up on it.

 

"Murphy." Hammond warned, walking closer to Garnett and Warren, his gaze never leaving the man. "But he's right. We don't pick up lone stragglers."

 

Warren looked towards Hammond, keeping her gun raised to the cannibal but her attention to the Lieutenant. "We picked up those two." She argued, motioning with her head to Cassandra and 10K.

 

"And that's enough. I told you I wouldn't do this at every stop." His voice was harsher than hers as he continued the argument over whatever they had been talking about prior.

 

"Then I could be of use!" The man butted in quickly, sensing that he was going to be left behind if he didn't. Murphy really hoped Hammond kept his mindset and didn't agree.

 

"How?" Garnett asked, tilting his head curiously and breaking up the dispute between the two Lieutenants.

 

"Heard a zombie hoards movin' south on the New York side. Rumors could be rumors, but I sure don't wanna get caught up in it. After I lost my ride, I was looking for a new transport. Ya know?" The man rambled, and Murphy let out a long sigh, hoping the man would just get to the point. The cannibal seemed to notice it as he sped up with his story. "Overheard you guys were scrounging for gas. You know like we used to say, ass, gas, or grass."

 

The cannibal laughed as if it were funny, but none of the others in the group seemed to get it, or really care enough to acknowledge whatever he was trying to get at with his endless rambling.

 

"And…?" Warren prodded, getting fed up with the story as much as the others. "What can you help us with?"

 

"Nobody rides for free." The man started, taking a more serious tone to his voice as he spoke to them. "I know where you could fill up."

 

"Now would be the time to share the information." Garnett commanded. None of the group were patient with the cannibal, and God was Murphy hoping that the man would continue so they could just leave him.

 

"Place called Jersey Devil Refinery, maybe five miles off," The man shrugged. "Just off the turnpike."

 

"How do you know there's gas there?" Warren questioned.

 

"Got overrun day number one. All the tanks are still full, just rusting away." The man added wishfully, trying to lure them into the idea like last time, and the group was falling for it. Murphy wanted to scream at them to just shoot the guy and leave, but he knew his wishes never came true.

 

Warren turned to the others, before looking back to Garnett, then Hammond by her side. Hammond did the same, ending looking at Warren before motioning to Addy, Mack, 10K, and Doc. "Keep an eye on him." He commanded before turning to the cannibal. "And you. Don't move or we'll shoot you. I don't care if you're good or not."

 

The man nodded in reply, following directions as he turned towards Doc. "Can I at least lower my hands?"

 

Doc sent a questioning glance to the three leaders, waiting for a reply. Garnett hesitantly nodded his head so that the man was allowed to do the requested action. The others who had not been told to watch the man crowded in a group even if they weren't noticed as a leader. Meaning Blake was caught up with them in deciding.

 

It took a few moments for the quietly spoken conversation to began, before Hammond started. " Heard New Jersey started as a hot spot. He's not lying on that."

 

"So we're taking him with us?" Warren asked, peeking over her shoulder to look at the cannibal.

 

"I never said that." Hammond started, thankfully keeping to his 'no more stragglers' rule.

 

"Just listen to what he said and leave him. He told us where it is." Cassandra butted in, anxiously watching the man who she used to be a group member with. How had they missed this? Murphy knew he hadn't really paid much attention to the others because, inevitably at that time, he hadn't cared. This time he did, but the group had cared both this and last time. How they missed it baffled Murphy, but he assumed this was what you got when remembering the future. "I don't trust him."

 

"Agreed." Murphy piped up again. At least he had Cassandra backing him, although he already knew that was going to happen. "We ditch this guy. Simple as that."

 

"Thank you." Cassandra gratefully remarked, albeit a little reluctantly given who she was thanking.

 

"I wasn't exempting you either, Sunshine." He hadn't meant to say that name aloud, and he could see how taken aback she looked at being called it. Shit, shit, shit.  Murphy swore to himself, trying to not show the slip-up and rather regard it as a nickname that people call one another.

 

Cassandra tried to brush it off, eyeing Murphy with a fear that he hadn't seen her show towards him before.

 

The others didn't seem to notice the slip-up or exchange though as they continued on. "We can't just leave him here." Warren continued.

 

"We can." Hammond urged.

 

Murphy watched as Blake sighed, glancing between Murphy and Cassandra, hoping for input on who she should agree with. Despite hating to make her agree with him, he silently tried to plead with Blake to side with him so that they could get the point across and ditch the douche cannibal.

 

"He gives us direction, helps us get it, and we part ways after that. Everyone lives and gets what we want." Warren argued again, opting to look at the good and help others when she didn’t see the bad. Given that bad wasn't really presented to her fully, but Murphy hoped she'd just agree with his arguments that referenced the bad.

 

"And what if he turns out be bad? Lures us, takes our cars, gets gas, and kills us?" Blake finally decided to join, thankfully trying to persuade them seeing as how Murphy knew the future, and that this would end up being bad in some shape or form.

 

"We outnumber him. Ten to one, and if he has more waiting, we might have an advantage in numbers. We have to get fuel somehow, and if we got a chance, and if you guys need to get the California, you're gonna need it." Garnett emphasized, still on the idea that the group would be splitting after this.

 

Shit. He needed to change that somehow.

 

Murphy could see Hammond process it over, taking no notice of Blake, Cassandra, and Murphy's pleading expression to not do it, before finally caving in to the wrong side.

 

"Fine. We take him with us, but the second he turns, I'll shoot him." Hammond agreed, and although setting his own principles, taking the wrong decision in the long-run.

 

Damn it. Why can't the things he tried to change actually work out?

 

The little conversation broke as the few group members dispersed to talk to the cannibal. Blake headed closer to Murphy, much to his despair, as she continued on with the conversation.

 

"How bad is he?" He hated her attempts to talk to him, but he figured if they were going to be able to change the future, to some extent, he would have to work with the Risen member.

 

"He's a cannibal. Take that as you will." Murphy responded as quiet as her, walking away as he left her with that tidbit of information to listen to what the others announced.

 

Garnett was first to speak, the four left to watch with their gunpoint on the man, while the three leaders kept without it. "You can come with us. Take us to the refinery, and if there's gas, we'll discuss taking you to the next outpost with us." And of course they would take the man to the outpost with them; Silver-Tail or something like that. Murphy had all the urge to yell at them that this was a stupid idea, as well as to get the group to stop thinking they would leave, but he held back not knowing how it would play out.

 

Probably for the worse, if he was being honest.

 

"And if you betray us, you'll get shot." Warren added, and despite being the one that liked to help, was also the one that enjoyed violence. Thus, the zombie ramming and being disappointed when she wasn't able to shoot Murphy on their first meeting.

 

The cannibal smiled, one that Murphy had taken as gratefulness at first, but now looked at it as more of a sick, twisted smile to the offer. "Trust me. You won't be sorry." He smiled to all of them, looking behind him then in front as he smiled towards Cassandra the longest. She shifted away uncomfortably, moving out of his focus.

 

The man went to lean down to grab his weapon, and although the group had been more lenient with their weapons raised towards him, the second he bent down, all of them raised them back on him. Murphy was barely holding back on pulling the trigger before Warren interrupted where he would shoot, kneeling down to grab the gun before the cannibal could. The man froze, half-way to the ground, as Warren handed the gun back to him.

 

"You got that right."

 

Hammond nodded, still on the verge of whether this was a good decision or not as he looked around to the rest of the group. "Let's head out. I don't want to be getting gas and clearing zombies in the dark."

 

"We're down a truck, so New Guy, Warren and I will ride with Hammond. The rest of you go to where you were before." Garnett instructed, as all the others made their way to their locations.

 

"Can I switch?" Cassandra beat Murphy to it before he could ask. Neither wanted to be with the cannibal, but then again, Murphy didn't want to be with Blake either, so it was a lose-lose.

 

"SUV seats seven. You're good." Hammond informed, shooting down the idea of any of them changing seats as he motioned Murphy to move forward. "Come on." He prodded, as Murphy sent a distrustful glare back to the cannibal who only raised his eyebrows in confusion as his smirk dropped.

 

God, Murphy hated when things didn't go his way.

 

---line break----

 

Out of all things, Murphy would have liked riding with Doc again rather than Travis, as the cannibal had so politely informed. The man was a rambler, and despite getting on the other's nerves, Travis didn't seem to have a clue about it as he continued on. Cassandra had mindlessly looked out the window half of the time before burying her head into her jacket to try to block out Travis' one-sided conversation.

 

The cannibal sat between him and Cassandra, so Murphy also had to deal with the constant chatter in his ear. The group's conversation had been all right last time to the point where he had been able to get a weak-attempt at rest, but Travis kept him from doing so at all.

 

He still attempted to close his eyes though, leaning his head against the cool window of the SUV as he filtered out Travis' talking. The bodies packed into the car provided the retched smell of sweat and blood mixed within the deteriorating leather seats that had sat in the sun for too long. They were burning through the last of their fuel, so the undeniable smell of gas was putrid, but for the need of travel, precious.

 

Despite the smell and the noise, Murphy kept his eyes closed against the blaring sun, trying to let himself feel at a moment's peace before the refinery ruined it. He wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep to the constant chattering, or if he had drifted into an oblivious, but awake, state in need of something to occupy his time. Whatever it be, the peace that surrounded him reminded him of the void-- of the vast empty space that consumed all feelings and worries. The one that sat right at the edge of time, traveling through all of your past without having to remember it.

 

Murphy had liked it there--but then again, he hadn't had a choice to feel anything there either. Now, he felt everything, and was starting to feel even more.

 

He could feel the faint presence of the gurgling beasts outside as they gnawed away at a poor man's ripped torso. He could feel them, and barely make out their whispering thoughts.

 

Food. Eat. Human…I was. Brains.

 

The idea was clear, but the thoughts weren't as Murphy shifted through their feelings to his. For four years now, he hadn't felt the zombies--hadn't felt any living or zombie presence other than his own. Now with the vaccine kicking in, slowly keeping him from deteriorating into a zombie, he was one of them, but a human as well. A hybrid.

 

Their master.

 

But not this time. Blend or zombie ruler, neither were allowed with the repercussion of getting shot, so he willed the thoughts away, trying to focus less on the zombies and more on the void.

 

A loud, monstrous shriek drew him from his thoughts, as the zombie presence (that only he could feel) charged at their next victim. The brutal sound jolted him awake, causing him to curl in on himself as he took his head off the window.

 

There were times he liked their thoughts, and there were times he hated what he had become.

 

Travis and Cassandra were the only ones who noticed him, but he sent a glare to the former, ignoring both of them as he looked to his front where Hammond, Garnett, and Warren were.

 

"On E." Hammond informed, peering miserably at the gas gage now on empty.

 

"I thought you were Y." Murphy mumbled, not letting the chance slip from his grasp. Hammond took his eyes off the road for a moment, a glowered look across his face pulling the Y-shaped scar apart, ultimately making the scenario funnier. "Hey." Murphy pointed back towards the road, silently lecturing Hammond on taking his eyes off of the lifeless road. Then again, Murphy couldn't help but look at Travis who sat in the middle with a clear view of the road before them, maybe lightly crashing wouldn't be so bad of an idea.

 

Not caring for his command, Hammond turned back to watching for absolutely nothing as the SUV slowly rumbled to a stop. Warren looked behind her, looking back towards Travis who anxiously looked between the Lieutenants and Sargent. "How much farther?" She inquired, the slightest of impatience showing through.

 

"Spittin' distance." He mumbled loud enough for the others to hear.

 

"Great. We're almost there." Despite the upbeat tone that the question was supposed to have, Murphy used a down trod tone instead. Just leading them closer to the great cascade of zombie havoc that would reek upon them.

 

The Chevrolet SUV was barely able to inch its way into the refinery campus as the ride became eerily silent. All of the structures of the refinery were in ruin as Murphy peered out the blood-covered window. Metal sheets hung from windows or littered the ground as everything around was grey and dreary-- the perfect scene for a DC film.

 

Murphy couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath, the images of being here the first time flooding back to him. He never thought he would remember this place, much less see it again, but here they were, and Murphy couldn't express how much of a disdain he held towards it.

 

The exploding trucks, flames covering the zombies reeking of death and burning rotting flesh-- mindless beings traveling to the pounding ruckus up top. He never thought he would spare anymore attention to the place ever again. The place hadn't left that much of an impression, but being back, it was all he remembered.

 

He leaned out the window, glancing at all the wondering bodies climbing desperately to the sound of the refinery.

 

Pound-pound. Pound-pound.

 

"Welcome…to Zombie Hell." Murphy sighed, listening to the snarling mixed within the ticking.

 

Pound-pound. Pound-pound.

 

The zombies barely cared for any of them as they exited out of the cars. The smell of living flesh being covered as the Zs only focused on their main goal. The banging sound.

 

"Frackin' zombies." 10K's amusement to the whole thing was still the same, as the sniper smirked at the shifting masses of bodies.

 

Still, Murphy couldn't help but roll his eyes at the kid, making it clear and evident as he looked up towards him.

 

They all gathered close together, watching the zombies from afar, as the beasts walked almost single file up the tedious stairs and to their death in the oil pit.

 

"Well, kid. Looks like you'll get to your goal quicker than you thought." Doc added, nodding as he looked at the feral creatures acting so mindlessly in need to reach whatever goal their deteriorating brains were processing.

 

"They seem to want something in there real bad." Garnett pondered aloud, never taking his eyes off of the replaying scene. Murphy heard Hammond scoff, shaking his head.

 

"It's that sound. " Cassandra replied. "Like bees to honey."

 

"More like Z's to shit. Where the hell do you think there going anyhow? There's nothing up there." Murphy knew where they were going, but it was better to point it out to the oblivious group for the greater good. Right?

 

Murphy could already tell Hammond was agitated with this unknown factor that complicated their plans further. It was about time that he snapped.

 

"Did you know about this?" Hammond spoke, beating Warren to it, as an intolerant question was given to the cannibal who kept his hands on his hips as if he were innocent.

 

With Warren, Travis seemed like he could take advantage of the situation. Hammond, however? Whole different scenario of pushing the limits. "Haven't come here enough to check. Looks like the population grew though." Although the cannibal wasn't as snide as he had been before, the comment was an underlying jeer that he knew, but hadn't informed.

 

It set Hammond off as he rushed over to the man, a fury in his eyes as he glared. "You knew, didn't you?" He snarled, grabbing ahold of Travis's shirt as a fear set in the cannibal's eyes.

 

Warren and Garnett were quick to react, trying to calm Hammond down and get him off of the man. "Hey-hey-hey. Hold on."

 

Once released, Travis stumbled backwards, mouth agape as he fixed his shirt.

 

"We're here already. Okay? We'll figure out how to deal with this properly and leave." Garnett's stern voice to the matter rose above the commotion, eyeing Hammond and Travis before shifting a nervous gaze to Warren. She hadn't spared him one back though, watching Travis and Hammond to make sure they didn't raise hell to alert the zombies.

 

Was it bad Murphy hoped they would?

 

Travis hadn't been a huge problem, but he was part of a bigger problem, and if something they do changes his 'destiny', what destruction would arise out of that? If Travis lived, would they just be lured straight to the cannibals sooner? Would they get mobbed and all of them be taken in like Addy had? No, Murphy wasn't going to deal with that.

 

Somehow, he'd have to make sure Travis met the same fate as he had last time.

 

---line break---

Blake's POV:

 

How did she not see this coming? A huge refinery with zombies walking around to the pounding of the pump above? Yeah. Normal, ever day zombie apocalypse shit. She'd seen it all the time.

 

Blake couldn't help but sigh, rolling her eyes at the madness of it all. And she thought twelve years into the apocalypse, things couldn't get weirder? No, they were already weird by the third year.

 

She figured they'd have to get the zombies away, but the plan was still left undecided after Hammond's outburst to the newly named cannibal, Travis. Blake wished Mr. Murphy would have elaborated on it more, but the man was stubborn, so she hadn't had a clue what was about to happen.

 

"So, what are we gonna do now?" She couldn't help but inquire as the silence drew on from everyone planning individually. The group, at least some of the group, seemed more divided than what Blake had first assumed they were when studying. Why she would think they were best friends right off the bat was beyond her, but the stress between someone else leading, new people, and being taken out of a somewhat peaceful environment was playing a toll on how well the group performed together.

 

"And what is that smell." Addy's face contracted in disgust, looking around the mobs for a clear source.

 

"The undead and gasoline." And of course the smell of their bodies from not showering, but Garnett left that part out. "Both highly flammable, so no firearms of any kind." He informed cautiously, already holstering his weapon as the others followed suit.

 

Blake was fine with it though. Axes were a better weapon for her anyhow. As long as she was able to kill the undead-- up close or from a distance, and keep them away from the things and people she was needed to protect, she was fine.

 

She watched as Mr. Murphy grumbled, reluctantly holstering his gun to grab a bloody, nearly dull throwing knife from his side-- the twine wrapped around the handle coming undone from the hastily tied nots.

 

"How're we going to handle this?" Despite Warren's question being directed towards Garnett, Hammond was also included in the discussion-- all three assuming the command as the leader.

 

Hammond nodded over to the zombies as the pounding continued to break the silence.

 

Pound-pound. Pound-pound.

 

Garnett was first to speak, looking back towards the group. "Well first we got to shut off whatever's making that noise."

 

Warren nodded her head in understanding, the discussion being left up to the three as Blake and the others watched from the side. "Okay, it's probably some kind of pump." Warren deduced. "But where?"

 

"Wherever the undead is walking." Hammond motioned, grabbing a rusted crowbar leaned up against the side of a building. "The sounds gotta be close to that."

 

Hell no. Blake wasn't doing that. "I don't know about you, but I'm not gonna walk in the midst of the zombies. I'm not their messiah. Sound or not, they'll smell flesh." Maybe Mr. Murphy could befriend those beasts that were so similar to him, but she wasn't, and she wasn't planning on risking any of their lives either.

 

"We'll distract them." She wasn't sure if Hammond's response was suppose to be comforting or not, but Blake didn't take it that way.

 

"How?" Mack asked, watching as the zombies made their way up the stairs.

 

"I have a way." Cassandra spoke, digging in her side-pack to uncover whatever would draw the Zs. "Zs like high pitched sounds." Cassandra informed, only to get spoken over.

 

"I'm sure Blake's singing will do the trick." Blake turned on her heel, a glare directed straight towards Mr. Murphy as he smirked smugly back towards her.

 

"High pitched," Cassandra started again, ignoring Mr. Murphy as she spoke." -and musical sounds attract the zombies."

 

"Sorry." Doc spoke up, leaning against the car. "Left me guitar back at Camp Blue Sky." Blake couldn't help as a ghost of a smile formed on her face as she turned back towards the hippie. At any point, the man never ceased to lighten the mood.

 

"Guess car horns are out too." Addy sighed, looking back towards Mack who went to pick up the top half of a broken shovel. Blake could see Cassandra subtly throw her head back, annoyed with being interrupted.

 

He swung the shovel so that it rested on his shoulder, looking back towards the mob of zombies before looking towards Addy. "Unless they were musical. Then again, that'll only draw them towards us."

 

The conversation turned back to Cassandra, who had been waiting patiently for the group to finish interrupting her. "Like I said, the more musical, the better." Curious, they raised their eyebrows (besides Mr. Murphy) watching as she winded a musical box before dropping it down and letting the classical music play.

 

Despite the calming tone the music held, like an old song Blake would play Jen when she was a baby, it seemed to drown out the thumping from above. The song was all the zombies were attracted to-- like Pied Piper in the old fable leading the children with his flute. The undead turned towards them, a new sense of direction lining their face as they made their way closer.

 

Blake griped her handle of the axe, fearing that the zombies would get too close and attack. Some of the others, including Hammond, had the same idea, cautious as they watched the oncoming zombies.

 

Travis, however, just had a sinister smile lining his face as he watched Cassandra, and Blake couldn't help but cringe in disgust. Freaking cannibal that they had to pick up. In the past life, she hadn't had any encounters with cannibals, and the idea one was amongst the group sent shivers down her spine. She had to get rid of him quickly. He was a danger to the group, and there was no way in hell Blake would allow any of them to be harmed when she knew how to prevent it.

 

The snarls from the undead drew closer before Cassandra cupped her hand back over the music box, ceasing the zombies from moving any closer. Once the sound was gone, and the pounding was prominent, the zombies limped their way back up the catwalk.

 

Another shiver ran up Blake's spine as she watched the brainless dead walk away, completely unfazed by the group as if they were Blends. She hated it.

 

"Wow, learn something everyday." Warren spoke, fanaticized by the zombies' reactions as Garnett nodded enthusiastically. Hammond seemed just as shocked.

 

"That would've helped a whole lot sooner." The Lieutenant mumbled to himself before raising his voice. "But it works."

 

"You'll be the decoy." Garnett pointed towards her, still intrigued by how the zombies reacted.

 

"I'll go with her." The gentle, innocent tone Travis used made Blake suck in a breath. What was the cannibals deal with Cassandra? Why couldn't Mr. Murphy just tell her?

 

Cassandra was quick to respond though, denying that she didn't need his help, but Garnett insisted. Damn it. Blake couldn't let Cassandra go with the cannibal by herself, but Blake didn't want to leave Mr. Murphy with the rest or only one person in the group. She knew how manipulative he could be, and how quickly he could get away. It was between keeping one safe and the other bastard here, and Blake was torn between the two parts of her mission.

 

Figuring that if Mr. Murphy went anywhere, they'd all go find him, Blake decided to go with Cassandra. Either one dead or one missing; either way she could go back in time.

 

"I'll go too. Better three together against a whole mob." Blake offered, distrustfully side-eyeing Travis who seemed startled as he looked between Mr. Murphy and her.

 

Blake immediately saw a look of relief wash over Cassandra's face, but it fell too quickly as Hammond responded. "Two will weave quicker through the herd. We need you down here."

 

She suppressed a frustrated groan, speaking back quickly. "Then I'll keep watch from above and the border. Make sure nobody followed." She sent another quick glance towards the cannibal, and his understanding seemed to fall in place, although, Travis still kept silent.

 

"That works." Hammond agreed as Warren nodded, a hint of curiosity lining her face. The Army Lieutenant then turned his attention back towards Cassandra and Travis. "Get up to the catwalk as quickly as you can and start the music when you reach the top." He commanded, as Garnett followed with another string of commands.

 

"You two," He looked over at Addy and Mack, "Get to the top of the other side and see if you can kill that noise." The Sargent looked around the remaining of the group, as the other four left. Blake knew she should too, but hadn't in curiosity to hear where the others were heading.

 

She looked around like Garnett noticing they were down a person. "Where'd that kid go?" Hammond picked up on the missing member too, rolling his eyes and sighing when noticing Thomas was missing again.

 

How long had he been gone? Geez, Blake needed to work on her observing skills.

 

Confused, Doc looked around to the truck bed where Thomas had been standing a couple of minutes ago. "He was here a minute ago." The confusion dissipated just as quickly as he turned to the others. "Oh and his name is Ten Thousand."

 

Oh right. Blake read about that once, but the Risen had called Thomas by his birthname in most of their documents, so the name stuck with her.

 

"Ten Thousand?" Hammond repeated, slightly surprised by the number for a name, before shaking his head. "Explains a lot."

 

"Well he better be back by the time we're ready to go." Still, Garnett seemed unfazed by the peculiar name.

 

"I'll check for him around the borders." Blake informed, moving back ever so slightly as she waited for where the rest of the group would be.

 

A couple of orders were thrown around about where the fill-up would be and what they could fill-up with before it was decided that Doc would take Mr. Murphy to the back and away in case of a mess-up and the zombies started to attack again.

 

"I can fight, ya know."  Mr. Murphy testified, only seeming to get on Hammond's nerves more.

 

"And when you die in that fight, what am I taking to California?" Hammond frustratedly asked. "Get to the truck with Doc. I'll be back to get you after we fill up." Despite his point, Mr. Murphy grumbled, reluctantly following the hippie away from the more dangerous area. With that, the group dispersed as Blake nodded understanding her orders as she kept a lookout for zombies while making her way into the buildings.

 

Keep the cannibal from harming anyone, make sure the group is safe, make them all go to California to keep them alive, and keep Mr. Murphy from ruining it all.

Notes:

In case anyone is wondering considering how I described Pup's glitching; Around season four, I don't think we saw Pup again. My assumption over those two years is that Pup had died. In this case, this was before Black Rain, so he wouldn't have turned into a Talker. (Can animals turn into Talkers?)…Regardless, he would've turned zombie, so Nana or Kaya would have had to put Pup down. In doing so, probably before Pup turned and near his time when he would die. Thus, Pup glitching from normal dog to normal dog with a bullet in his brain for mercy.

In all honesty, a sad thought to ponder over.

Coming Soon:
Fracking Zombies Remake (Part Two)

Chapter 11: Fracking Zombies Remake (Part Two)

Summary:

Continuation...

Notes:

Hi again! I love to do tie-ins throughout my stories, and there are a plethora of them. One of the most noticeable is probably Addy's birthday (I did have to make that up though). If you find the tie-in with the dates, tell me! I'd love to hear if you found the correct one.

I'll give you a hint: One takes place in "The End" while the other is in "Puppies and Kittens Remake (Part One)".

Murphy's POV:

 

They couldn't hear a sound from where they were, and despite knowing how it went last time, it still left Murphy feeling anxious. He knew how everything turned out-- sort of.

 

Thing was, he wasn't afraid of the snarling beasts outside anymore. He wasn't going to freak out like he had last time and make the group lose all their gas. So, because of that, the group would get the gas they need, and all would be dandy and well.

 

Expect, Murphy knew it wouldn't be. Because they may not have a gas problem anymore, but they had a separation problem. Second they get the gas, the group is getting the hell out of here, and it would just be him and Hammond again. 10K and Cassandra would more than likely either go with the group, or their own way, and Blake…He couldn't help but muffle a bubbling snarl at the back of his throat. Blake would just follow the group probably, or even go with him and Hammond. He didn't like either idea.

 

Blake with the group meant he wouldn't know what she would do to them. She was a part of the Risen after all, and knowing how the Risen worked, he couldn't let that happen. But if Blake decided to come with him…Murphy didn't even want to imagine the possibilities that would entitle. Besides, if she did go with him, what would happen to the group? Murphy couldn't protect them.

 

What if it was safer for them to go their separate ways? The journey down Hell's Road to California only got them killed, but if they never went down that road, what would happen? Murphy assumed more dangers, and of course, death, but less of it. Right? Wouldn't they be safer?

 

Then again, what could he know? Hammond was miraculously spared by some unknown entity. If the zombie baby wasn't there, how much more in the past had changed? Because Murphy sure hadn't touched the baby.

 

He wasn't sure what side was better off. All he knew was that the Risen were the ones to blame and they were stuck inside their games now. One wrong move meant you had to start all over, and Murphy couldn't bare the fact that he was being controlled by something that hadn't even formed yet.

 

Regardless, he was trying to go along, keeping calm as the zombies passed by and playing cards with Doc. The idea that he was doing this again left an odd feeling inside of him. This was the first time he had ever played cards with the man. The last time he played cards with Doc was before the two years in Toivo, and the time between and after seemed to flash by in his memory, pausing him momentarily from playing.

 

Doc seemed to pick up on it, eyeing him curiously as Murphy stared off into oblivion. Doc decided to try and get him to snap out of it the simplest way possible, asking a question that Murphy was sure he asked last time.

 

"Wonder how it's going?" It took a moment for Murphy to snap out of it, looking back towards his cards rather than Doc.

 

"Can't hear anything from here." Literally soundless from both the pounding and the music. "Besides, once Hammond sees a mess, he'll get out of there." Alive? Maybe. The universe found ways to screw Murphy before, so why not now?

 

Doc dropped the question, looking back towards his cards. "Eights?"

 

Funny Murphy knew how the game would play out. Did that count as cheating? "Go fish." He swore he didn't have any eights anyhow, so no, it shouldn't be.

 

Not that it mattered, as the card played into Murphy's hand and easily, he ended up winning. Whether it be knowledge or skill, Murphy hadn't the clue, but Doc wasn't convinced.

 

"First time I've ever seen anybody cheat at go fish." Doc spoke with disbelief, shuffling the cards again for a rematch to waste their time.

 

Murphy scoffed, looking towards the older man who had become his best friend. The man who had lived to the end, went through the hell of the apocalypse with him, became his Blend, and had been shot through the brain in payment for all he had been through. It all started with Hammond dying and a game of cards.

 

"I didn't cheat." It wasn't cheating if he knew the outcome. It's not like he could help it.

 

Regardless, it was Doc's turn to scoff, rolling his eyes. "Highly doubt that, man." It plunged back into silence, Murphy not really having anything to say-- too focused on the bizarre scene of this happening again, and Doc questioning whatever it was that he hadn't said aloud last time.

 

Murphy leaned back in his seat, staring out the window as another one of the undead passed. It limped by the window, set on the distant pounding sound as it completely ignored the two in the car. The zombie's thoughts weren't too clear to Murphy, but it was like he could hear the snarling inside his head. He scooted closer to the window, watching the rotting beast shift out of view and down the alleyway.

 

"So," Doc speaking again drew him out of his thoughts, snapping him back to look at the older man. "I was wondering. You and Hammond have been traveling this past year from…?" He questioned, still shuffling the cards, but paying less attention to doing so.

 

Murphy's eyebrows scrunched. Guess the silence this time allowed Doc to ask his question he hadn't asked from last time. Pure, ol' time travel for you. "Maine." He responded. Murphy wasn't sure where the questioning was going to go, but it probably wouldn't be anything he hadn't heard before.

 

Doc nodded, seemingly impressed from the answer. "And it's just been you two on this mission?" He could tell that Doc wasn't too sure with the idea of a mission in the apocalypse, and Murphy couldn't blame him. Only the movies had missions during the end of the world.

 

Murphy shifted, watching as Doc set down the cards, ready to listen to his answer. "Besides deranged soldiers or brainless helpers--yeah, it's just been us since the lab." Most of the others tried to kill them or left them. Hammond had been hoping for Sleepy Hollow to have a better team, but of course that always turned out to be a bust.

 

"The lab where you got the cure." Doc filled in the rest, picking up the cards again as he thought it over. Another thought seemed to strike the man, a more worried look on his face as he turned back to Murphy. "So they just took you from…prison?" Doc was cautious in asking, Murphy assuming the reason being that Doc could have been left alone with a murderer.

 

"Postal Fraud." Murphy reassured, clearing Doc's fears of getting brutally murdered. "Bastards left me to get eaten by the z's before Hammond decided to come back." He pointed out the window to the few zombies wandering around mindlessly.

 

Murphy still wasn't sure why Hammond had come back. Maybe he heard Murphy's screams, and figured the cure was working, or maybe something else. Murphy hadn't cared at that point; just pissed that he had to be the Savior of Humanity yet again.

 

That answer seemed to hint Doc further to whatever he had been trying to get at. "Yeah, I've been wondering about that. The zombies got you, and you didn't turn, and that was it? Nothing else?"

 

Up to this point, yes, but Murphy didn't plan on elaborating more on the future. Someday, yeah, he'll bring it up to the group just to spite Blake and the Risen. Now though, not the time.

 

"Nope." Murphy popped the 'p', turning back towards the window, willing away any thought of being taken back into that room with Merch and the vaccine. He didn't have time to fret over all of that. He had to come up with a plan to keep the group together, and unfortunately, every idea he was coming up with only seemed to fail towards the end.

 

Begging: not an option.

 

Forcing them to come: Doubt Warren would even settle for that.

 

He heard Doc laugh to himself, pulling Murphy out of his thoughts as he turned back towards the man.

 

"An ex-convict ends up being the Savior of the human race. Didn't see that one coming."

 

Murphy hadn't seen it coming either--especially with his attempt to try and change it.

 

Doc's mood-- light and jolly before, seemed to take a slightly more serious tone as he spoke again. "What keeps you going then? If it was me, Lord knows how much Z-Weed I'd have to use just to get through the day."

 

What keeps him going? Murphy had been going to make sure Lucy was alive, the group was safe, and the Risen didn't plan on harming anyone in that area. If Doc was questioning if he keeps surviving to save humanity, he would be sorely mistaken. Murphy could give a damn less about them. All the human race did was kill and destroy, as proven multiple times through the Risen and rebellions, and even before.

 

Murphy grunted, shrugging his shoulders. He couldn't exactly tell Doc all that, so he kept to himself as the older man questioned on.

 

"Family?" Doc gently prodded, tilting his head almost as if he were thinking over what he would do if the positions were swapped.

 

Was it family that kept Murphy going? Lucy is, of course, family, and she had been one of the reasons he strived to live rather than put a bullet in his head. The group though? Warren, Doc, Addy, and even 10K he had considered family by the end. The others hadn't lived as long, but they had been working their way into the closed off friend circle Murphy refused to announce publicly. Maybe family was one of the reasons he kept going with this elaborate mission.

 

"Yeah…sort of." Again, not like he could tell Doc all of that unless he wanted to bring up time travel, and he would rather do that later with the whole group around to hear.

 

"Good God…I'm not sure how you do it, man." Doc was always sincere, at any point at any time with anyone. How he could be? Murphy didn't have a clue; even after more than a decade of being around the man, he still couldn't figure out how Doc remained so positive.

 

Murphy shrugged again, clearing his throat as he looked towards Doc. "Well, you live and you learn." Just so happens that he lived through this, and now has to do it again after he learned. Isn't time travel just a joy?

 

Murphy had been so immersed in the new conversation this time, that he hadn't even noticed the snarling zombies that started to make their way over to the truck. It became clear as the gurgling grew louder, and the undead's bodies limped around the truck. Murphy's head snapped towards the creature. He wasn't frightened, not like last time.

 

Doc shushed him, despite both of them already being quiet, as the older man looked out the window as well. "Looks like we got some company." Doc whispered, not at all fazed by the growing mob that made their way around the car.

 

"No shit." He whispered back, slightly harsher than before as he looked out the window. For whatever reason, there seemed to be more than last time, despite the fact that there was less commotion to draw them over. The Zs seemed attracted to something, growing further as they milled around in search of (what Murphy assumed) was a live meal.

 

His eyebrows scrunched again, focused on finding what it was that drew the zombies over. It wasn't them this time-- couldn't be. Whatever they were looking for, Murphy couldn't seem to find it, but that didn't stop one of the undead from noticing him.

 

The zombie slammed itself against the window Murphy had been looking through, pounding on the glass as blood dripped on the window. With a swear, Murphy fell back into the seat and away from the beast, calming himself as the zombie continued its rampage to get in. The other zombies started to take notice as well, more accumulating around the car in an attempt to receive a fresh meal.

 

"Calm down, man." He wasn't sure if Doc was saying that more to himself, or to Murphy, but it was all the same as they both cautiously looked towards the growing mob around the car.

 

"I thought they were distracted by the sound!" They had to be. They had been last time! The only reason more started to come over was because of the ruckus he had made when panicking.

 

He hadn't panicked this time! Why were they attracted over here?!

 

"Well we keep making noise now, and more of 'em will come." Doc quietly hissed back, glaring at Murphy before returning his attention to the crowding zombies. He went to grab a gun on the dashboard, but once remembering Garnett's warning, he rolled his eyes sighing.

 

"Why is nothing ever easy?" Doc mumbled, setting down the gun and taking a rusted crowbar instead. "Now I'm gonna go take care of them. Alright?" He seemed to think it over for a second, sighing to himself again. "You just stay here. I'll be back."

 

"Wait!" What the hell was Doc thinking? Last time, there was, like, two. This time, there was a whole mob of Zs. "You can't just go out there. There's like--ten." As if to convey his point, he motioned out the window dramatically.

 

"Well the longer we sit here and do nothing, the more Zs will come. I'll take these few down, and we're all good. Alright?"

 

Murphy hardly believed there was any sense in that, but grudgingly, he huffed to himself, taking out a throwing knife he found a few months back on a mercied guy. "Fine." He didn't want to get out and deal with the Zs, but it was better he didn't leave Doc to take on ten by himself. Two, that was fine, but the growing population outside wasn't one he wanted to see Doc die in again.

 

"Woah-woah-woah. Where'd you think you're going?" Doc leaned towards him, stopping Murphy from exiting the car.

 

Now what? He hadn't done anything wrong. This time, he was actually offering to help mercy the zombies.

 

"I'm not gonna let you go out there by yourself." What did Doc think he was? A self-absorbed asshole?

 

….Okay, scratch that.

 

Doc gave him a disbelieving look, eyebrows shot up before scrunching together. "I was told to protect you. If one of those zombies grabs you, Hammond's trek to California is out of the picture. I'm not gonna let that happen."

 

Oh God. You're cowardly and scared the first time around and do nothing, but the second time you actually try to help, you're told you can't 'cause your needed. Well screw that. He learned. He knows how to handle himself; mercy the beasts.

 

With a grumble, he rolled his eyes to himself, pushing Doc's hand out of the way and getting out of the car despite Doc's protests. With a huffed reply to himself, Doc got out of the car, closing the door, unlike Murphy, and drawing the zombies away.

 

"Alright! Come and get me, boys." Doc called, piking one of the zombies through the eye as four others limped his way.

 

Murphy stuck to the silent tactic, stabbing one zombie through the ear with the throwing knife. The zombies were attracted to Doc, rather than Murphy since Doc was the one alive, and Murphy was in the state between human and zombie messiah. Regardless, it offered for a better advantage, coming up behind the zombies to pike them through the skull.

 

Doc kept whistling and antagonizing the zombies to come his way, as the Zs started to make their way off of the car and towards the older man. He kept walking backwards as the zombies followed, Murphy continuing to mercy the zombies from the rear with mumbled comments of his own.

 

Why did more zombies have to come over this time? Seriously? Couldn't they just have a break for once?

 

He went to stab another bald-headed zombie before the undead noticed him, turning around but remaining completely still in his spot. Murphy froze for a moment, watching as the zombie mimicked, both of them at a standstill as the zombie gurgled, but didn't attack.

 

"Not this again…" He wasn't sure if this was more of a curse than not. Being the Messiah of the zombies-- a hybrid breed that was able to control, but slowly turning into one of them as time passed. He liked the power, but not the implications. Besides, the Risen stripped him of having any of that power with the repercussion of death, so the idea that this was more of a curse was prominent.

 

The world only seemed like a tunnel for a moment with Murphy and the zombie watching one another without an attack towards either. Doc's luring and shouting were drowned out, and even the gurgles of the surrounding Zs were foggy. His grip tightened on the throwing knife, but he didn't do anything about it, just watching the zombie twist and curl inhumanly, but continue to stare at him with a controlled, distant look on its face.

 

That look only lasted so long as the moment returned to normal time and a hole was left in the falling zombie's head. Murphy's shoulders sagged, looking over towards the attacker positioned up in the building.

 

"Hey!" It wasn't like Murphy hadn't been ready to kill the beast, 10K taking the easy shot was just cheap. The sniper spared him no mind though, readying another gear before releasing it to mercy a zombie with a hard-hat that had been overpowering Doc.

 

Murphy saw 10K mouth whatever number he was on as Doc huffed heavily from another near zombie bite experience. Cautiously, Murphy stepped back, going to mercy another zombie that surrounded the car, but made sure to stay out of 10k's line of fire.

 

Another zombie dropped. One that had been making its way towards the car.

 

Another, this time by the antenna, and close to where Murphy had been killing. With a quiet grumble to himself, Doc shouted out to 10K.

 

"One thousand sixty! Nice shot, kid!" Doc enthusiastically complimented, pointing as he stumbled slightly closer to where 10K was perched.

 

With only a few zombies left, Murphy got back in the car, knowing that Doc and 10K could handle the couple that remained. Being on the opposite side, he got in the passenger's seat, shutting the door and waiting for Doc to come back.

 

If he sat right here, did nothing to drive away, and remained calm, they might just get gas without anything exploding this time.

 

Murphy leaned back in the passenger's seat, watching as Doc piked a couple Zs through the skull, and 10K shot gears through the others. It wasn't Deja-vu that got to him this time. No, Murphy knew that. It was just hard to believe that it was happening again. Doc and 10K had died. Fully-- not just turned or became a Talker. They died. Given a death without mercy. Killed in war, forced by the Risen and controlled as his blend.

 

Now, they acted like they hadn’t ever met each other. Like 10K and Doc hadn't become a father-son duo as the years passed. Instead, they were just strangers who happened to save each other's lives.

 

The scene was more absurd than Murphy could handle, and it was that, that ended up distracting him from the menacing threat behind. He barely had time to react as a bloody form screeched behind him, crawling over the seats in the back and to the front where Murphy was. His swear was cut off as Murphy yelled, reaching for his throwing knife as the zombie crawled on top of him. The knife fell to the driver's side and by the peddles, just out of his reach as he was being crushed from the rotting beast on him.

 

More started to make their way into the car, following the first one's lead as Murphy heard Doc yell from outside.

 

How the hell did they get in the car?!

 

He barely got a glance to the door he forgot to shut as more zombies pushed their way through the growing mass in the car. Murphy was barely able to huff to himself, suffocating from the bodies piling on top of him.

 

It was just like back in the prison; strapped to the table and unable to move. It was just like when the arms were covering his face, keeping him from taking a breath without blood spewing in his mouth only without getting eaten alive.

 

Yet.

 

Murphy tried to push the zombies off of him, barely noticing Doc trying to mercy some of the surrounding beasts outside. He crawled over the seats, pushing the ravenous beasts out of his way as he desperately attempted to reach the knife. Zombies started to grab at his legs, pulling him away from getting to the knife on the peddles, and into their rotting hands.

 

Desperately, Murphy tried to kick the zombies off, knocking them in the rotting jaws even though the dead felt no pain. His attempts only pushed the zombies back, but it was enough for him to grab the key. Murphy tried to pull it out in an attempt to pike a nearby zombie, but instead, his hand ended up turning the key, starting up the engine as the car roared to life.

 

His hand got caught by another zombie, keeping him from taking the key out as he let out another surprised yell. More of the bodies started to pile on top of him, as he kicked again, managing to kick another zombie in the rotting jaw, and knock it right off its face. The jaw fell to the floor beside Murphy's face, making him cringe in disgust at the bloody teeth with human flesh between the crevices.

 

Pulling his hand away from the zombie holding it, he tried to grab for his knife again. The space below the steering wheel was extremely small for him, but tried as he would, Murphy attempted to crawl farther underneath to retrieve his weapon. He set his hand on the brake to pull himself further, allowing the zombies to push the gearshift down to 'drive' as they tried to get him. Without knowing, Murphy pulled his hand off of the brake, managing to get his knife just as the car lurched forward.

 

A mixture between a yell and a gasp escaped his mouth as Murphy fell forwards and onto the gas pedal, causing the car to move forward even faster. Although the car moved slowly, he managed to crash into something blocking him from the front, throwing some of the zombies that had been on top of him through the windshield, breaking the glass. It allowed him to sit up in the driver's seat, knife in hand as more zombies came in from the back and now the front.

 

"Damn it." Murphy grumbled through clenched teeth. Why did this have to happen this time?

 

He was able to pike one of the many Zs making its way in from the broken windshield, but him, Doc, and 10K's attempts at trying to clear the zombies from the car was going left unfulfilled.

 

Guess the kid might make it to ten thousand faster this time.

 

If they were able to make it out alive, that is.

 

Finding that they wouldn't be able to kill the zombies with this method, Murphy decided against his previous planning. He stomped on the brake harsher than he meant to, putting the car in reverse and backing up into the zombies behind. Guess he was taking a little joy ride.

 

"Move! Get out of the way!" He yelled towards Doc, who had been behind the car killing the zombies that he could, but inevitably getting into Murphy's way.

 

He watched as the older man jumped to the side, shocked as he watched Murphy back the car up with a whole clan of the undead piled on top. Once getting enough in a clearing, throwing the zombies who had been in the back seats to the floor while they were unbalanced, Murphy put the car back in drive, making small doughnuts to try and fling the zombies off. Still, that ended as a failed attempt as well when only a few fell underneath the tires.

 

Two of the zombies behind who had regained their balance from his spinning grabbed Murphy by the shoulders, pulling his hands off of the wheel. He let out a yelp, accidently pushing his foot down harder on the gas pedal as more zombies crawled in from the front of the windshield, turning the wheel with their legs.

 

The car jerked in multiple directions, all the while with Murphy trying to kill the zombies that had a hold on him. He couldn't even see through the front window as the rotting bodies piled in from all sides.

 

"Get off of me! Get off!" He knew the zombies could care less in their rotting brains what he was yelling, but the fear he had suppressed from being strapped down and eaten alive was becoming vivid as the memory flashed in his mind.

 

He desperately tried to fling the zombies off of him, and out of the car, but they kept their hold on him. It wasn't until he felt the impact that some of the zombies released their hold on him or flew out the window. He heard the sickening sound of flesh hitting metal when the car collided into whatever it was, but the whole thing went too fast as the car crashed and stopped. He felt the impact, lurching him forward as his body hit the steering wheel, setting off the airbag, before it pushed him back into the seat.

 

After that, the world felt like a foggy mess of yelling and snarling.

 

----line break----

Warren's POV:

 

They had been trying to get the two vehicles filled up as the separate groups went to distract the zombies. The pounding above still reverberated throughout the whole place, and Cassandra's music hadn't played over it fully, so they had been trying to start up the one vehicle in the meantime.

 

The truck had already been pulled around to where the pump was, so at the moment, Hammond was guarding Garnett and her as they finished their task.

 

"Keep cranking." The Tanker still hadn't started yet, no matter the number of times they had done this.

 

Garnett followed orders though, continuing the process in hopes that it would work. That, however, didn't stop the frustration that followed.

 

"Cranking enough to light up a small city." He grumbled.

 

Hammond turned back towards them, watching as Garnett cranked the battery before the Lieutenant sighed. Hammond looked up to the sky, then back towards the catwalk as the zombies continued to follow the perpetuated sound. "What's taking them so long?" He questioned impatiently, nervously tapping his foot on the ground as he looked back towards her and Garnett.

 

The pounding had been going off and on to some extent, but it was never enough to attract the zombies back to the music. Warren had been questioning it too, but decided that Addy and Mack would take care of the job properly unless some disaster happened to the two. Reason being why she kept watching back to where the couple had been sent, making sure nothing noticeable had happened.

 

Nothing had, that she saw, but the on/off pounding was starting to worry her.

 

"Addy and Mack will handle it. Give them some time." They had to handle it. They knew their job, and unless something happened, the job would be preformed.

 

Hammond grumbled to himself, walking closer to Garnett but keeping watch for any straggling zombies that found flesh better than sound.

 

"I don't have time."

 

Hammond looked back towards Garnett, just as the man told her to start up the vehicle again.

 

Please work.

 

They didn't have time. No one did in the zombie apocalypse. Time was never on anyone's side.

 

She tried it again. With the action, the engine rumbled to life as the truck started. With the confirmation, a smile spread across her face as she stared down towards the two men. At least time could be lenient.

 

Warren spared a quick glance down to the gas gauge, watching as the arrow slowly ticked down closer to E. And now back with the gas problem.

 

"Okay, hurry up. It's almost running out of gas."

 

The two factors. Time and gas--never on their side.

 

Garnett and Hammond started to clear the area they had been working to start the truck, closing the hood and setting the battery aside.

 

"Not for long. Get ready to go as soon as they kill that noise." Garnett informed, shrugging past Hammond as said man walked over to her.

 

"You believe your two got this handled?" She knew Hammond was nervous about the idea. She couldn't blame him. The fact of the zombies--more than they expected from what Travis had previously informed them of, she could understand the man's worry.

 

"I do." She shook her head with confirmation. She did believe that Addy and Mack could kill the sound, just some time was needed to get to that point.

 

Warren looked back to the tank on the back of the vehicle. The Tanker was in pretty good shape, and with the amount of gas it could hold, they had deduced that it would get Hammond and Murphy to California with no problem. They planned on filling up the truck after that, or before, with a couple of gas cans for extra-- just in case, that is.

 

The plan seemed full-proof, but Warren couldn't shake a nagging feeling that something wasn't right. Maybe she was just paranoid, or maybe Murphy's freak-outs and odd looks to her and the group were eerie. Or even Blake's out of the blue reactions ever since Murphy had arrived at Camp Blue Sky.

 

She couldn't pin-point it, but it was grating on her sanity, causing her to question what seemed so out of place.

 

Warren tapped the side of the tank, drawing her attention back to Hammond as he looked back towards her. "Think this is enough to get you all the way?" She knew it was-- they already went over this-- but she needed confirmation to know. Just to make sure this wasn't the thing bothering her.

 

Hammond lessened his hold on the crowbar, looking back towards the tank as his stoic face softened slightly with relief. "Should get us all the way." He looked back towards her, the stoic look returning as he kept watch again-- Garnett by his side as Warren nervously watched the gas gauge, hoping the four could distract the zombies before the tank ran dry.

 

It was a couple moments after that the refinery became eerily silent-- the constant pounding now ceased as the gurgles from confused zombies sounded across the area. Hammond's grip on the rusted crowbar tightened as a rotting corpse gained sight of them, starting a limping sprint over to them.

 

Hammond readied to swing, but the peaceful music echoed throughout the refinery, distracting the zombie from its previous goal as it looked up to the sky with its lifeless eyes; limping slowly to where the music was sounding from.

 

Warren let out a sigh of relief, watching as the other zombies throughout the refinery did the same. Hammond's grip slacked on the crowbar-- expecting an unbattled fight-- and nodding towards her and Garnett.

 

"They did it." Relief flooded her tone, stating the obvious as she looked towards Hammond, receiving a faithful look in return. They just needed time.

 

"Alright. Get ready." Garnett informed, hopping on the edge of the Tanker as Hammond did the same. They waited a few more minutes, watching as the zombies in front of them limped their way towards the sound, bearing no mind that they were there. However, the music playing was short lived as it cut out, and the pounding took over once more.

 

"What the hell happened?" The impatient tone of Hammond's returned as jumped off of the Tanker, walking closer to where he could get a better sight of the catwalk.

 

"I don't know." Garnett didn't have an answer, and neither did she, waiting as the pounding boomed throughout the place once again.

 

Silence fell throughout the refinery, going uninterrupted as Addy and Mack rounded the corner, running towards them. From inside the truck, Warren took notice of the blood running down Mack's face, but she didn't say anything about it as Garnett spoke.

 

"Nice job. What was up there?" Garnett asked, hanging off the driver's side of the truck.

 

The couple slowed their pace, breathing heavily.

 

"Some kind of a pressure valve thing." Addy responded through labored breaths, motioning with her hands in random gestures. "But that tank is full of zombie goo, like to the top."

 

Well, isn't that just great. Warren didn't like being pessimistic, but damn couldn't the apocalypse ever offer them a break?

 

"Beautiful." She couldn't help but comment, looking back to the gas gauge before returning her attention to the four. The tank was running low…really low. Hopefully they could get to the pump before it ran out because Warren wasn't looking to push the Tanker the rest of the way.

 

"It ain't gonna hold, guys." Mack informed, rushing over to the other side by Hammond, reluctantly taking his place by the man as Addy took to latching on by Garnett.

 

Hammond leaned in from the passenger's window, nodding his head towards her. "Let's go." He commanded, taking his head back out of the window and looking forward to the sea of zombies in front of them.

 

Let's get this show on the road.

 

She nodded her head to Garnett, giving him the signal that they were ready.

 

"Start the music!" Mack yelled as she honked the horn, alerting Cassandra and Travis that they were ready and the music could play freely.

 

She heard Garnett whisper beside her, "Let's dance." as the music sang loudly throughout the refinery. The sweet rhythm contrasted from the sinister setting as the walking dead shuffled their way away from them.

 

"I'll be damned." The plan worked. Relief washed over Warren again, fully this time as she put the Tanker in gear, slowly moving forward to their fill-up location.

 

It wasn't a far drive, but the music had cleared the zombies that once occupied the area, providing for an easy (or what she hoped was easy) fill-up. Mack was first to jump off, jogging over to get the hose as he carried it in his hands towards them. He looked towards the gas cans, truck, and Tanker before returning a questioning gaze to Garnett and her. The silent question of "Which first?" made more than clear.

 

"Alternate. Start with the truck first, then the Tanker." Hammond informed instead as Addy and Garnett went to prepare the truck. She and Hammond went to uncap the Tanker taking it off hastily as Mack started to fill up the truck. He went halfway for it before cutting it out and taking it over to the Tanker.

 

"Here." Garnett called over to Mack, motioning him to hand him the hose as Mack tossed it to him. Garnett then tossed it over to Hammond like they were playing some game as her and Hammond positioned the hose to fill the Tanker halfway up before alternating again.

 

Addy turned the pump back on as the gas flowed yet again into the gas tank. This one would take longer than the truck to fill up halfway, but at least one had gas to get them far in case the other failed.

 

Hammond took the hose out of her hand, holding it as he passed his crowbar to Garnett. "Keep watch. Just in case some zombies loose focus." Hammond ordered as Garnett took the rusted crowbar, and Warren unsheathed her machete.

 

She dared a quick glance to the couple, looking for the two weapons the two had carried prior.

 

"What happened to your…" Warren wasn't sure exactly what the call the 'Spiky metal bat', so with her free hand, she motioned to Addy and Mack's hands.

 

"Z-Whacker." Addy clarified with what the name of the death bat was as a sense of dread washed over her. "Had to wedge it…just as I was starting to really like it too." She added with a pout, scouting the area for any wondering zombies.

 

Warren wouldn't call it a peaceful interval between filling up, but it held some semblance of peace as the zombies continued to ignore them. That is, until the peace was short lived and a high-pitched hissing could barely be made out over the repeating music. Warren could feel the ground rumble beneath her, the shake coursing through her whole body.

 

At first, she wanted to chalk it up to insanity. That she was imagining it, but Addy proved her fears to be correct as she worriedly spoke.

 

"Did you feel that?"

 

Hammond turned towards them as Garnett leveled himself on the ground, waiting for it to happen again to figure out what exactly it was.

 

"Listen." Despite them being silent, they followed where Mack was looking to the rumbling through the hose as the hissing continued to get louder and louder. The hose shook with each movement of flowing gas, like something big and heavy was tumbling through it. Warren got ready, holding her machete alert in front of her as Garnett held the crowbar.

 

"Start the truck. Move it out of the way." Garnett commanded to Addy and Mack, as the couple ran to the beat-up truck.

 

"Be ready for anything." Hammond informed, Garnett and him switching places as Hammond took back the crowbar and walked in front of Warren. Not as a guard or protection, but to get a better look at whatever was making its way through the pipes.

 

Warren hastily made her way over to the switch turning it off as she looked over her shoulder to Garnett. He started to make his way to the Tanker, removing the hose with a little struggle and going to start it up to move it out of the way. He barley made it to the other side before an eruption shook the ground, nearly knocking them all off balance.

 

Addy and Mack had luckily made it to the truck, getting it away from the now danger zone. However, Garnett fell behind, unable to pull the Tanker to a safer zone as the rattling turned into oil and zombies spewing out of a pipe on the other side of the Tanker.

 

She and Hammond made their way over to Garnett as the Sergeant told Addy and Mack to stay back.

 

Warren watched as oil-covered zombies either fell out of the pipe, or crawled their way out, undistracted as they fell to the ground and eyed them predatorily. The zombies barely moved an inch, rather than getting up, staring them down as her, Hammond, and Garnett remained frozen in place.

 

Frozen in fear, her and Hammond readied their weapons, preparing to fight the zombies that menacingly stood before them. Garnett quickly picked up whatever he could find to arm himself, again telling Addy and Mack to back down--keeping them away from the fight.

 

Hammond went to take the first step forward as the oil covered zombies slowly limped their way over to the three. Warren barely noticed that the music had cut off by this point, only now could she hear the snarling, rasping sounds the Zs made before them. That is, until the sound of a swerving car kicking up gravel sped across the area and came into view.

 

Immediately, she could tell that it was one of their vehicles, and immediately, she could tell it was the one Doc and Murphy had been in.

 

"Doc?" She questioned aloud, watching as the car swerved with a pile of zombies hanging onto the roof and making their way inside. Warren could barely make out what was happening inside, but Hammond seemed to clear her worries of Doc getting eaten alive.

 

"Damn it, Murphy." He grumbled, going to take another step forward to take care of the zombies, before heading to stop Murphy from doing whatever he was doing, but Hammond stopped a step early, barely missing getting hit by the SUV as it crashed into the oil covered zombies and metal pipe that they had come out of.

 

"What is he doing?" Garnett asked, shoulders slacking in confusion as the standing oil-covered zombies started to make their way towards the crashed truck.

 

She barely had to look down to see sparks hissing too close to the oil, knowing all too well how it would end up for somebody in that car.

 

"I don't know, but it's gonna get him killed." Hammond spoke aloud, grumbling in frustration again as he turned towards Garnett and her. "I need your help." He pointed to Garnett before directing his gaze quickly to Warren. "And you need to get out of here. I don't want you anywhere near in case those sparks ignite."

 

Warren knew where this was going, and she didn't feel right with leaving Garnett. She couldn't let him die. Not after all this.

 

"Wait." She tried to push past, but Garnett held her shoulders, keeping her in place.

 

"I'll be fine. We'll get Murphy out of the car and meet you." He reassured quickly, shoving her shoulders to get her to move. "Go!" He said louder, giving her another shove as she followed orders this time, running to the safest area that Mack and Addy were parked.

 

"What's he doing?" Addy nervously asked, watching on with Warren and Mack as Garnett and Hammond ran over to Murphy.

 

"Looks like they're getting jackass out of the car." Mack shook his head, going to take a step forward to help, but Warren stopped him with her hand out and a shake of her head. The two would handle it. She wasn't going to risk anyone else.

 

Warren watched as Garnett and Hammond swung, mercying the zombies that scratched on the window. They didn't take out all of them, just enough to get to the door as Hammond flung it open, shaking Murphy awake who seemed unconscious from her viewpoint.

 

Despite the distance, Warren could barely make out what was being said.

 

"Murphy. Murphy!" She heard Hammond try, shaking Murphy again. "Bastard, you're going to get us killed." She watched as he pushed the airbag down, grabbing Murphy by the shoulders and lugging him out of the car.

 

"Is he dead?" Garnett asked, mercying a zombie that started to crawl through the window before grabbing Murphy's other shoulder.

 

Hammond shook his head, heaving Murphy's arm over his other shoulder as they both lugged him forward. "Breathing, just unconscious." He grunted out, him and Garnett pulling Murphy away from the zombie infested car.

 

They're movement was slow in carrying the man, worrying Warren as the zombies started to take notice that the meal waiting in the car had vanished.

 

"Hammond?" She saw Murphy slur, bleary eyes barely opening as his feet dragged across the ground.

 

"And you told me you're always right." Hammond grunted, heaving Murphy over his shoulder further to pick up the pace and get farther away from the noticing zombies behind. " 'Cuz this doesn't look right to me."

 

She wasn't sure if Murphy gave a laugh or a sigh, but all was cut short as the zombies lurched towards the three men. One zombie grabbed onto Hammond's free shoulder, another one between Murphy and Garnett as it made an attempt to bite Garnett's neck. Warren was quick to start making her way forward, going to help as she watched Garnett slightly drop Murphy from his shoulders, grabbing the broken metal piece he had picked up early to pike the zombie grabbing him and Murphy.

 

However, Hammond was left with deadweight, supporting Murphy and unable to reach for the crowbar. The fuel-covered zombies teeth sunk into Hammond's shoulder, causing the man to scream in pain as the weight shifted back to Garnett, nearly causing all of them to stumble forward.

 

"Hammond!" Murphy yelled, fully aware as his eyes widen to see the zombie tear into Hammond's shoulder. Garnett was barely able to support Murphy and kill the zombie eating Hammond as the Lieutenant fell to the ground and Warren finally made her way over.

 

"Go!" Hammond yelled, blood starting to spew from his saliva and mouth.

 

Oh God. She couldn't help but think, watching the blood leak from Hammond's shoulder, seeping through his fingers as he tried to cover it.

 

She went to help him up, but he denied, gazing over to Garnett pulling Murphy closer to the truck and away from the fuel and zombies. She knew what the denial meant as his eyes lingered up to hers, pleading her with a drawn in breath.

 

Mercy.

 

Her machete in hand, she set the blade, ready to pike him. "Lieutenant Mark Hammond…I give you mercy."

 

The machete impaled through his skull, relieving him from turning as he fell to the ground; eyes never becoming the milky white. Never seen as dead as the pain left the suffering man.

 

"No!" She heard Murphy shout from behind her, drawing her from her thoughts as she ran over to Garnett, helping to drag the aware, but immobile Murphy out of the way, grabbing the shoulder Hammond had carried before.

 

They were barely able to make it halfway to the safe zone before another zombie ran their way, blocking them from moving any farther. Warren could smell the flame burn, igniting with the gasoline lining the ground as she hastily tried to grab her machete to mercy the zombie.

 

They didn't have time. They didn't have time.

 

Before she could even unsheathe her machete, a whole was blown through the zombie's brain. Warren wasn't able to thank Ten Thousand as he snuck back behind the corner, and she and Garnett were already dragging a reluctant Murphy out of the area--knowing that it could explode any second.

 

Scarcely had they made it to the safe zone before the Tanker exploded, throwing the three of them to the ground, the others covering themselves as the flames erupted from the large vehicle.

 

Warren was finally able to hold her balance again, helping Garnett off of the ground as he dragged Murphy up. Her machete abandoned on the ground, she watched as flaming zombies limped their way over to them, walking past Hammond's lifeless body that had now caught on fire as well.

 

Guess it didn't matter if they used firearms anymore.

 

Her and Mack drew their pistols, killing the three zombies that limped their way over to them as the flames engulfed the Zs, and the smell of burning, rotting flesh became prominent.

 

Garnett dragged Murphy to the car, setting him down on the ground as Murphy held himself up, breathing heavily as his hands shook. He didn't look up at them, or say anything at all. He only remained lost in thought with a fearful look in his eyes.

 

---line break----

Blake's POV:

 

She didn't know where to go first. Of course, Blake wanted to keep an eye on the group, but she had to make sure the borders were secured in case Hammond figured out she hadn't. Quickly, she surveyed the area, mercying a lonesome zombie with her axe in her trek before heading back to where she knew Doc and Mr. Murphy had parked.

 

She didn't like the idea of the Dictator being left alone with only Doc. Blake wasn't sure when Mr. Murphy's zombie messiah powers kicked in and allowed him to make people his Blends, but she didn't want to risk Doc's life. She was quick to find her way there, keeping covered with the metal scrapes littered as barricades or thrown down in a hurry to escape. She remained covered, watching the parked SUV, trying to spare a glance through the tinted windows.

 

Blake could only make movement out, nothing other, leaving her to guess what was happening. Both shadows of Doc and Mr. Murphy seemed to stay on their respective sides, leaning over once and a while just to set something down. At points, their hands covered their faces, dropping down before picking up again, and sometimes throwing their head back.

 

Either they were playing cards or smoking weed….Blake saw either to be likely.

 

She started to inch her way closer, quietly so no zombies would hear, as she tried to get a better look. She just had to make sure Mr. Murphy was behaving the way he was supposed to. After all this time spent, learning about who some of the members of the group were; understanding them as a person; and finding out how cruel the world turned out to be to these survivors--Blake didn't want to have to see Mr. Murphy take advantage of the situation and turn Doc into a mindless servant again.

 

She tried to use the cover to the best of her advantage, but the junk littered around the area was helpful and not. She took a wrong step, her axe clinging against the side of a metal rim, alerting the nearby zombies of her presence.

 

Oh shit.

 

She swore as the zombie heard the noise, then caught the reeking smell of human as its rotting head snapped towards her; eyes that clouded over in a glaze as blood leaked from its open jaw. It sprinted directly towards her, inhumanly twitching with each long, fast step. Tightly, she gripped her axe that had been through hell and back, taking a prepared stance as the zombie came in proximity. She swung down, chopping into the skull as blood and brains stuck to the axe.

 

The zombie fell limp, weight forcing her to push the zombie to the ground, put her foot on the zombie's chest, and pull the axe she had lodged a deep ways into the zombie's head out. God did she wish she had Addy's Z-Whacker.

 

Not even a moments time went by before more zombies in the area caught wind of a meal, screeching towards her as they ran her way. Dammit. Now it's really time to go.

 

She couldn't attract more zombies over here-- she wouldn't jeopardize either of her mission's safety more than she already had. If they were playing cards only, good. One less thing Mr. Murphy had ruined already. If it stayed that way, even better. She wasn't going to attract a whole hoard over just to mess that up.

 

Swiftly, she ran towards the building she had scouted earlier, running up the more or less rusting metal stairs as she tried to dodge and lose the rotting forms chasing after her. Her axe was still in hand, and without a thought of that being highly unsafe as she ran, Blake tried to close the doors behind her. That, however, hadn't worked out so well with the zombies on her tail, pushing the door open the second before it nearly clicked shut.

 

The front zombie tried to reach out for her, but Blake was quick to swing the axe around, cutting halfway through the zombie's skull before the three others tried to climb over the mercied one to get to her. With a struggle, she pulled the lodged axe out, inadvertently hitting one of the zombies with the butt of the axe.

 

It stumbled backwards with the force, as Blake kicked the other, swinging the head of the axe back down and into the brain of the zombie on the floor. Pulling the axe back, Blake forced herself to run farther up the stairs and to the roof, hoping to lose the last two while doing so.

 

She huffed breaths, hating how she hadn't done much cardio at Camp Blue Sky, as she finally made it to the roof. She flung open the door, before trying to shut it in the same motion. Again, it hadn't worked as planned as the one Zs came barreling through, kicking the roof's door with its foot and shutting the second Z inside the building.

 

One way to sabotage your kind to get a meal. Same could be said for Mr. Murphy…besides the fact that his hadn't been for human flesh. That is, Blake didn't think it was.

 

With one left, she went to swing her axe again, readying to slice through its head but the zombie was quicker, darting out of the way as it came to tackle her. As it collided with her, causing Blake to lose her grip on her axe and stumble backwards, Blake couldn't help but huff out a breath. The wind snatched from her lungs with the hard collision.

 

Recently turned one. She couldn’t help but think. Those were always smarter, faster, stronger, and less rotted. Always perfect to get a kill.

 

She was able to regain her balance, the zombie still latched onto her as it made attempts to bite her neck. She caught a glimpse of the ledge in front of her, and the wall behind her. With a quick decision, she decided not to tempt falling over the side of the building and killing herself, and chose to quickly turn around before ramming the zombie full speed into the wall.

 

Blake was able to lose the zombie's hold on her one arm enough the grab its forehead without getting bitten. With enough pressure and the zombie's back against the wall, she started to hit the zombie's head against the solid surface in hopes to kill it.

 

"Why. Won't. You. Die. Already?" She continued to smash its head into the wall before a sickening crack was heard, and the zombie's head was limp but turned backwards. Despite breaking the zombie's neck, it continued to live, the world opposite as it watched its back, but tried to make grabs from the front.

 

Cautiously, she let the zombie go, making a sprint towards her axe before the zombie could get her. She picked it up quickly, turning around just in time to see the glazed eyes catching sight of her, snarling as it did so. With its head turned backwards, and feet facing forward, when the rotting mind of the zombie thought that it was still facing right ways, it managed to walk backwards instead.

 

She watched as the zombie tried to get her, but kept walking towards the ledge. Blake swore she saw confusion spread across the zombie's face as Blake's shoulders slacked from defense and her axe hung at her side. The brief moment of emotion was wiped off the zombie's face as it tumbled backwards and plummeted down towards the ground below.

 

She ran towards the edge, watching the broken form of the zombie try to crawl away with its head facing backwards and its arms and legs curled in ways she never thought they could. Her face recoiled in agony and disgust for the zombie as she drew herself away from looking, and started to make her way farther across the bare rooftop.

 

Her mind briefly wondered back to her list, remembering that Travis the cannibal was still a part of the group and paired with Cassandra. Blake still wasn't sure what the cannibal's obsession with Cassandra was, but she figured she'd find out sooner or later when she heard the echoing voices of the two.

 

Quickly, she made her way to the edge of the roof, staying hidden as she watched Cassandra back up against a dead-end of the catwalk with Travis blocking her. Blake feared the worst as the cannibal started to slowly walk towards Cassandra, knowing she had no way of escape.

 

Blake desperately searched for something to throw to distract the man as she listened intensely on what was happening below.

 

"Get out of my way, Travis." The commanding tone held a particular confidence in it that surprised Blake. She couldn't connect the dots on what the connection between the two was (she had no source of reference from the Risen's files) as she tried to piece it together, hoping to find something small to throw all the while.

 

"I don't want to have to kill you." Something happened between the two; Not just Travis chasing after Cassandra. Blake just couldn't place it.

 

"That's not gonna be a problem." The smug underlying tone of the cannibal sent shivers further down Blake's spine, still coming up empty handed in finding anything to distract Travis. "It's time to go home, Sunshine."

 

That nickname.  Mr. Murphy used it before with Cassandra, which gave both Cassandra and Mr. Murphy a frightened look on each of their faces. So it wasn't just a nickname.

 

Blake could hear a faint clicking below, but she hadn't drawn her gaze up in time until she saw Cassandra be tasered in the neck, then the side as the electricity jolted through her body.

 

A fear washed over Blake that she hadn't felt in a long time. The one that studded you speechless as your breath caught in your throat like you couldn't breathe.

 

She was supposed to protect the group. She was supposed to keep the cannibal from hurting any of them.

 

"Stop!" Blake finally cried, using her voice to distract the cannibal.

 

It did just that, shocking the two below, but Cassandra refused to stutter in response, grabbing the taser that now hung loosely from Travis's hand, and using it against him. The cannibal cried out in pain as Cassandra shoved the taser further into his side, not easing up on the shock.

 

"You forget," She heard Cassandra choke on her words, deadly low. "I'm used to it."

 

She stopped tasering him, kicking him in the private area and pushing him off the side. Blake ducked down, gasping in shock as she closed her eyes, too many thoughts overloading her mind.

 

She heard the screams of Travis below, getting eaten alive, unable to do anything to stop it.

 

Travis was dead. Cassandra and Travis had some type of history. The cannibal was dead. Cassandra hadn't reacted as harshly to the pain of the taser as she should have.

 

Blake knew Cassandra looked up to try and find her, but Blake remained hidden, unwilling to give away her spot.

 

If Blake hadn't called, would Cassandra still have killed Travis?  Blake knew Cassandra died, but it couldn't have been this early. Had it?

 

She heard the pattering of running footsteps as Cassandra ran away, allowing Blake to finally come out of her hiding spot. She looked down to see Travis be eaten alive, the growling zombies munching away as something glinted from beside Travis.

 

Her eyebrows scrunched together, noticing the small metal box of something below shimmering with a newly made coat of Travis's blood. Blake figured it could always be something left there before, but curiosity took over her as she whistled for the zombies below, trying to call for them and get them away from Travis.

 

They easily fell for it, limping towards where they thought she would be as Blake ran the opposite way and to the door she entered from. She killed the zombie that had been waiting there for her, quickly venturing down the steps and out to where Travis's zombified body laid, broken and unmovable.

 

Carefully, she bent down, grabbing the metal box that laid beside Travis as he snarled rabidly at her. Blake picked up the chain, letting it drop down as she noticed it was Cassandra's music box. Why would Cassandra drop it down towards Travis? Or if that not be the case, why would Travis steal it?

 

Too many questions spiraled in Blake's mind as she stashed it in the backpack with her notebook, Sun Mei's notes, and the plans on where to find the Time Travel machine. She went to head off before hearing Travis snarl again at her, causing her to turn around.

 

Should she give mercy to a cannibal? One that had used a taser on Cassandra to take her 'home'?  One that put the group at risk?

 

She sighed, pulling out her axe and slicing it through the brain. One less zombie in the world anyhow.

 

Blake shrugged her backpack back up her shoulder, going to head towards where Hammond, Warren, Garnett and the others where before an explosion shook the ground, causing Blake to take cover almost as if she had been right beside it.

 

Another fear settled within her along side a hatred, knowing all too well something bad had happened, and having a likely suspicion on who caused it.

 

Changing directions, she ran towards where she knew Doc and Mr. Murphy would be, sprinting as fast as she could and hoping that her suspicion wasn't true. That didn't seem likely though, looking at the pile of mercied zombies and Doc alone without the car or Mr. Murphy.

 

Dammit Mr. Murphy. Why did he have to ruin everything?

 

"Doc!" Blake ran up to the hippie, checking around to make sure they were in the clear. "What happened?" God, please don't say she attracted the zombies.

 

Doc looked relieved that someone else was alive, gesturing around him with the crowbar in hand. "Bunch of zombies came out of nowhere. Me, Murphy, and the kid tried to get them, but Murphy ended up driving off, and after we killed the rest of the Zs, the kid took off too."

 

Blake sighed harshly, closing her eyes for a split second as she ran her hand across her face. She saw Thomas wandering around prior, but it had been a brief look of his messy raven-black hair before he disappeared again.  And Mr. Murphy, God she already knew he was the source of the explosion.

 

"And the explosion?" Please tell her she's wrong.

 

Doc looked towards the way the tire marks and blood trial ran, before turning his gaze back towards her. "My guess is Mr. Savior of Humanity."

 

And then Mr. Murphy. The likely suspect.

 

"Shit." She drawled out, cupping her hands over her face before looking back up towards the older man. "Come on. Let's go make sure the others are safe from his wrath." She bite out with smite at 'his' ignoring the look Doc gave her.

 

"Not a fan of Mr. Rays and Sunshine?" He teased, knocking against her shoulder with a short laugh of his own.

 

"Oh, far from it." Very far from it.

 

Blake could feel her anxiety peeking every step closer they made towards where the others were milling around. They all looked distraught, furious-- defeated in a sense. No one was talking, and as Blake and Doc walked closer to the others, Blake could see Mr. Murphy's furious gaze land on her.

 

It was like lasers were penetrating her body as his eyes narrowed in anger and hatred towards her. More than he had even shown her before, and that was saying a heck of a lot. Mr. Murphy was on the ground, hands curling in the sand below as his lips curled when she neared the others.

 

He remained silent, eyes never leaving her, but Blake broke the staring match, looking around at the others.

 

Cassandra had already made it to the group; Addy, Warren, Garnett, and Mack all present as well-- looking worse for wear, but that was expected. Doc was looking around the group as well, and Blake noticed they were missing more than just Thomas now.

 

Where had Hammond gone?

 

Her gaze drew back to Mr. Murphy's, trying to decide what had happened, but he gave no indicator other than something for the worst, or that she had done something that pissed him off.

 

Warren walked a few steps, addressing Cassandra. "So, where’s your friend?" God, if only Warren knew.

 

Blake was sure 'friends' don't taser one another or push each other to their deaths. That's just a guess though.

 

"He didn't make it." Why hadn't Cassandra just told them what happened? Cassandra eyed Blake, quickly reverting her gaze back in front of her as she continued. "And he wasn't my friend."

 

Well, I'd say. If somebody trapped and tasered her, Blake wouldn't consider them a BFF, that was for sure.

 

"Well isn't that just a Travis-ty." That was the first time Mr. Murphy spoke, pushing himself off of the ground, eyes finally leaving Blake as he made his way to the side of the truck.

 

"Murphy." She heard Garnett warn, pointing towards him, but the dictator paid no mind, seemingly off in his own world again with the same glare lining his face.

 

The group went silent again, and as much as Blake wanted to ask where Hammond had gone, she supposed he had gone to go look for Thomas, seeing as how neither of them were here. Her attention veered over to the fire raging on near the pump where the group was filling up. Zombie's bodies were burned to a crisp, barely recognizable at this point-- the smell of rotting, burning flesh more than prominent.

 

The Tanker the group had been filling up was in flames, that being the cause of the explosion alongside the SUV, both far from useable any longer. Blake sighed, turning her attention away from the raging fire and over to where the shuffling of feet could be heard.

 

She watched as Thomas rounded the corner, jogging towards them with two gas cans in his hands. He slowed when they all caught sight of him, looking around the group seeming to come to the same conclusion as Blake.

 

Where the hell was Hammond?

 

"Found these." He informed, holding them up as Doc took one from his hands.

 

"Well I'll be damned, kid. How'd you know we could do with more gas?" Doc smiled towards him, showing off the gas cans to the group, moving the set it by the truck's half full tank.

 

Everything seemed to be moving by so fast, moving on without any sight of Hammond, and the fact was worrying Blake.

 

"Where's Hammond?" She couldn't help but inquire. Why hadn't the man shown up? She thought he had went to find Thomas, but here Thomas came back alone.

 

Warren put her hands on her hips, nodding over to a flaming body Blake had first assumed was a zombie. "He didn't make it." Warren informed, the seriousness adding onto the loss.

 

Blake's eyes widened, her breath being knocked out of her again as her head snapped over to Mr. Murphy. He continued to glower, and she could finally see the mourning and unfaithful look mixed within it. He refused to say anything, and Blake didn't know how to respond.

 

She already failed.

 

She was supposed to save Hammond. He was a name on her list. He was one the Risen assigned for her to keep alive, and she hadn't even done that. She couldn't save him.

 

Oh my God…Hammond was dead.

 

She couldn't comprehend the fact. She couldn't force herself to say it because that would mean she hadn't done her job. She was failing Operation Do-Over already.

 

She knew the others couldn't comprehend her reaction, and she didn't blame them, but she couldn't force herself to say anything, so the others decided to speak.

 

"What do we do now?" Mack asked, looking over to Garnett and Warren, the two leaders looking at one another without a clear declaration on what they would do.

 

Garnett sighed, hands resting on his hips as he looked over to Mr. Murphy. The dictator finally stopped glaring, drawing his eyes up so that he was looking between Garnett and Warren. Blake couldn't make out what Mr. Murphy was thinking. She didn’t know what the Blend Dictator would even think at the moment.

 

Hammond had said Mr. Murphy had tried to run away--countless times at that. If he didn't want to follow through on the mission, it only added more strain to Blake, and if the group still thought they didn't want to take Mr. Murphy to California, Blake was up shit crick.

 

Everything happening at once was leaving her in a spiraling daze, hard to even comprehend anything of the situation, and even if she was, Blake didn't have a clue on how she would go about it. Tell them that they had to continue on? Convince them that it was safer to deliver Mr. Murphy to the Sun Mei for a cure?

 

That she had to, to follow through with the Risen's orders?

 

The last one wouldn't work. She had to strictly follow the guideline to not tell anyone about time travel. Which also meant she'd have to keep the 'ever-ruling following' Mr. Murphy in line with those guidelines as well, so nobody ended up combusting on themselves.

 

Is that what happens when you tell someone something they're not supposed to know? Blake didn't know, but she wasn't about to find out.

 

Garnett took a deep breath, taking his gaze off of Mr. Murphy, and looking around to the nervous but inquiring group. "It looks like we're taking Mr. Congeniality to California." He decided, following through with Hammond's mission.

 

Mack shook his head in disbelief, giving a huffed laugh to himself. "That's suicide…"

 

Addy's attention shot to him, drawing away from looking towards Garnett and Warren, still caught up in a haze of a mission for the cure and hope. "But what if we make it? What if we finally have a cure?" She sounded so hopeful, dragging Blake back to dark thoughts of Addy finally getting an injection, thinking it was the cure, only to end up as Mr. Murphy's Blend for two years…All before getting shot in the head during a war Addy and the Blends had no control over. One that Mr. Murphy forced them into.

 

Mack turned towards her. "How do we know it's even real?" He motioned towards Mr. Murphy, the dictator rolling his eyes in reply.

 

"Hammond wouldn't've died for nothing…right?" Doc asked, becoming unsure of himself as his eyes lingered over to Hammond's burning body amidst the mercied zombies.

 

"We barely knew the man." Mack argued back, remaining unfaithful to hope. Blake couldn't blame him though. Years ago in the past life, when she heard about a cure, no one believed it after two years when it never happened. Mack had been through a lot-- deaths, zombie apocalypse, Pre-Z, all of it. His lack of faith was only a spawn of it, and Blake didn't disdain him for it.  "For all we know, he could've been lying."

 

"I doubt so…" Blake rose her voice, sighing as she turned towards Mack. Act clueless. Act frightened. Act like you don't know and are only a survivor who just saw Mr. Murphy's bite marks. " Hammond…He showed us--" She motioned with her hands to Mr. Murphy, earning a glare and a raised eyebrow from the man. "--that." She finished.

 

"That?" Cassandra questioned. The girl had already been on high alert with Blake ever since the Travis incident, but now her voice was more curious than frightened that she'd reveal something.

 

Warren nodded her head over to Mr. Murphy, side-eyeing him briefly before redirecting her attention back to the group. "Murphy was bitten…" She turned her attention over to the man as Mr. Murphy stared at her. There was no sense of hatred in his eyes like he had towards Blake-- rightfully so as much as Blake knew though.

 

"He didn't turn. Supposedly that means the cure works, and whatever's in California can help bring that to the rest of the world." Garnett finished, dropping his hands from his hips.

 

"Bitten? By the zombies?" Addy's face morphed into shock; eyes wide as she stared at the man.

 

"Eight times." Mr. Murphy drawled out, almost like he had heard the same conversation a thousand times.

 

 Mack didn't trust it though. "And you saw it?" He looked between Blake, Warren, and Garnett, sparing a brief glance at Mr. Murphy, cautiously looking to see if it was some sick joke to play for hope.

 

Warren nodded, not saying anything at all before she redirected her attention back to Mr. Murphy who was leaning against the truck. She raised her eyebrow towards him, almost expectantly, waiting before he finally noticed it.

 

Mr. Murphy huffed exasperated. "Learned it from him, didn't you?" He motioned over to Hammond's limp body, suggesting the time when Hammond had done the same. Just a day or so ago…

 

He didn't move from the truck. "Again?" Mr. Murphy questioned, not taking a liking to the idea at all, and Warren's look suggested enough to what he didn't want to do. With a roll of his eyes, he pushed himself off of the truck, lifting his shirt halfway for the others to see.

 

"Holy hell." Mack nearly choked on his words, eyes widening in shock as he stood in front of Addy, almost as if he were ready to protect her in case Mr. Murphy turned full zombie.

 

The gruesome, scarred bitemarks glistened with scabs against the afternoon sun and fires. Scars from the bites and experiences from the apocalypse covered Mr. Murphy's chest, the skin peeling away from the marks.

 

Addy gasped audibly in shock, covering her mouth as she stumbled back. Her eyes darkened as she looked over the bites, and Blake had no doubt that somehow it had sparked a traumatic memory. Doc's mouth hung open as Cassandra's eyes widened, turning to look Mr. Murphy in the face with pure shock. Thomas (who had been so quiet the whole time) face dropped, showing more emotion than he had the whole fricking day and a half he had been with the team. He remained frozen in place, making no sound or movement unlike the others who shuffled around to look between Warren, Garnett and Mr. Murphy.

 

"Well he wasn't lying." Doc admitted, shaking his head as if it was going to rid away his shock and disbelief.

 

Mr. Murphy grumbled, dropping down his shirt as if it were a curtain to a theater and the performance was over. "Is that enough proof?" He asked with a sarcastic bite, causing Blake's lip to curl as she glared at him. Why did he always have to act like a jackass?

 

He spared no mind to her, moving back over to the truck and waiting for the others. She watched as Garnett took in the others, watching them comprehend the situation. He had been about to speak-- most probably to tell the team that it was time to go, but the ringing of a pay phone distracted all of them; everyone looking around to where the noise was coming from.

 

"Is that a phone?" Addy asked, questioning what nearly everyone (exempting Mr. Murphy) was thinking.

 

"How the hell does a phone work anymore?" Blake found herself asking, knowing it was most likely a stupid question seeing as how Madalyn had a phone at Altura, and Blake had been offered to get one during her time in service for Altura. Still, this was practically seven years too early for that.

 

Her question was never answered as everyone's attention turned to the phone, Garnett being the brave soul to walk up and answer it. He hesitated before answering, barely putting the phone to his ear like he was expecting something to pop out of it.

 

"Hello?" He asked. Nobody could hear what was going on, but Blake assumed the situation was about to wrap up, given that Mr. Murphy was already making his way inside the truck.

 

"Sergeant Charlie Garnett." He answered, leaving the others to question who was on the line. Blake's guess-- it had to be Simon. If he was at Camp Northern Light, still working for the NSA and had still been in contact with Hammond a day ago, Blake was sure it was him.

 

She watched as Garnett hesitated, removing the phone from the side of his ear as he tried to come up with an answer. Warren raised her eyebrow to him, but Garnett shrugged, facing back to the broken window of the payphone. "He's dead." Garnett finally answered.

 

Another pause drew out before another answer and a look towards Mr. Murphy whose head was hanging out of the car. "Yes, he's alive."

 

"Is he still calling me, 'The Package'?" Mr. Murphy called, seemingly annoyed as Warren hissed at him to shut up.

 

"Yes, we know." Another moments pause. "Is the location still the same to drop him off at?" She could hear the irritancy in Garnett's voice, watching as his foot tapped against the metal floor of the phone booth.

 

A studded moment passed as the slightest of a scoff left Garnett's mouth to the answer of 'California was still a go' was given.

 

"Wait. No. Hold on…that won't work. There has to be somewhere closer." Garnett prodded, looking back to Warren and the others in doubt.

 

He didn't seem too happy with the answer given to him. "Can I speak to someone in charge?" Whatever response was given to him seemed to throw him off guard, causing him to put his hand over the phone and mumble, "Of course." under his breath.

 

Warren gave him a suspicious look, but he returned back to the phone. "Are you sure there's nowhere else closer?" Garnett questioned again. After another drawn out moment of silence, and Mr. Murphy's confused stares down the alleyways, Garnett hung up the phone with a "Thank you."

 

"Well?" Warren asked.

 

Garnett sighed, heading over to the gas cans that had been set aside when the matter over Hammond being dead was brought up. "We're still heading to California, but he'd alert us if the location changes."

 

"Who is 'he' again?" Addy asked, cautiously walking to the front of the truck, keeping a wary eye on Mr. Murphy.

 

"Guy at the NSA." Mr. Murphy's tone almost had an underlying hint to it, winking over to Addy as he pulled his head back inside of the truck, ignoring Addy's face as it screwed up in curiosity and disgust to whatever the wink meant.

 

"Help me fill these up, will ya?" Blake heard Garnett ask Doc, both men filling the tank as Thomas hopped into the truck bed, and Mack, Addy and Warren kept watch for any lurking zombies.

 

She watched as Cassandra shifted off to the side, drawing her attention away from Blake, but knowing she had been caught staring. Blake cautiously looked around, making sure the others weren't paying attention, as she started to close Cassandra off to the side where they could talk and not be heard.

 

Cassandra noticed, trying to dodge off to the corner to prevent it, but Blake was quick, scooting over to the side and blocking her off. She had way too much practice chasing Jen Pre-Z.

 

Knowing that she had no option of escape without drawing attention to herself, Cassandra stopped trying to. "What do you want, Blake?" She tried to make her voice sound unfazed, but the slightest of skittishness could be heard.

 

"I want the truth." She was careful in picking her words. As far as Blake knew from the Risen's notes, Cassandra was an ally; a friend and member of Operation Bitemark. Blake didn't want to push her luck and turn an ally into an enemy.

 

"I've given you the truth." She knew it was lies-- both Blake and Cassandra. Mr. Murphy refused to share information on what Cassandra was hiding, but Blake would make sure she found out. She had to keep everyone safe.

 

"No, you haven't." Blake pulled the music box from her backpack, causing Cassandra's eyes to widen in fear.

 

"Where did you get that?" She hissed, grabbing the music box from Blake, cupping it in her hands and holding it out of sight.

 

"You dropped it…by Travis." Careful with your words, Blake. "Who was he?" Act clueless, Blake.

 

"No one." Cassandra was quick to answer, stashing the music box into her satchel. "I don't know him. He's not my friend or an acquaintance. He's a nobody."

 

Despite her reluctance to answer, Blake kept prodding. She had to know. She had to protect them. Cassandra, Warren, Addy, Mack, Garnett, Doc, Thomas…she already lost Hammond.

 

"A nobody doesn't try to kill you without a purpose." Blake kept her voice low, cocking her head so she could keep Cassandra in her vision, but make sure the group couldn't hear them either.

 

The words seemed to be lost in Cassandra's mouth as she went to speak, but nothing came out. "Don't…Don't tell anyone. Please." She was begging now, the act of pretending faded, causing Blake's shock to rise. What the hell was Mr. Murphy not telling her about Cassandra?

 

"I won't. I promise you." Naturally, her voice turned lighter--more sympathetic based on the fact that Cassandra was begging for the others not to know she was hurt, tasered, and could've quite possibly been killed or taken to whatever 'home' Travis had said. "Not unless it becomes something major." Not unless it hurts you, the group, or Operation Bitemark and Operation Do-Over.

 

Tight-lipped, Cassandra nodded, looking out to the group worried that they might hear.

 

"I just want to know what happened?" I need to know what happened. Blake couldn’t decipher if that sympathy turned to pleading, praying that Cassandra would open up to (in this case) a complete stranger.

 

The look Cassandra gave was heart-breaking to Blake, imagining her daughter's face when she had to tell Jen that her father was never coming home again. Cassandra looked as if she was about to say something--something at all-- but she shut her mouth, shaking her head as she looked up towards Blake.

 

"I can't."

 

What had Cassandra been through?

 

She'd have to find out-- some form or fashion-- but begging Cassandra as a stranger was not helping her case. Instead, she nodded her head in understanding, biting the bottom of her lip as she stopped blocking Cassandra's way.

 

Cassandra went to move forward, and Blake made no movement to stop her, other than speaking softly and quietly so the others couldn't hear.

 

"Just remember. Some way, the truth always comes out…Make sure it's not too late."

 

Make sure it doesn't get you or the others killed.

 

She watched as Cassandra bit the inside of her lip, looking up to Blake's eyes one more time holding a curious gaze, trying to make something out of it before nodding her head and walking back to the truck with the others.

 

Blake couldn't understand what happened-- the effects of the previous adventures during the two days already exhausting enough as she gave a sigh. Why hadn't she expected all of this from Operation Bitemark?

 

She started to walk her way back over to the truck bed just as Doc and Garnett finished pouring the last of the gas into the tank, before another explosion lightly shook the ground this time. Warren and Addy were quick to turn around as the other's heads snapped over to the Tanker, Blake expecting another catastrophe as she ducked before turning her head to where the others were looking.

 

She heard something whiz through the air as Addy's Z-Whacker sliced through an oncoming zombies skull mercying the Z, and flying right back to its owner. Damn Mjölnir bat.

 

"Look." The underlying excitement and astonishment in Addy's tone was undeniable as she jogged over to the Z-Whacker lodged into the zombie's head. "Awesome." She whispered, pulling it out without a care for the blood and giddily hopping her way over to the truck, swinging her bat all the while. "Never thought I'd see this thing again."

 

Blake pulled her into a side-hug, quickly ruffling her red hair. "Better now?" She laughed as Addy smiled up towards her, following Mack to the other side to get in the backseats with Mr. Murphy. Warren took the passenger's seat as Garnett took to driving, leaving Blake, Doc, Cassandra and Thomas in the truck bed.

 

Slowly, the truck started forward as Blake pulled out her notebook, sitting against the back of the truck so the papers didn't fly everywhere ,and so no one could see what she was writing, she pulled it closer to her chest. Turning a couple chapters worth of pages, she finally got to her next blank page for an entry for Risen notes and precautions in case she were to go back in time again.

 

May 14th, 3 A.Z. 

 

Location: Jersey Devil Refinery

 

Brought by: Travis (known as a cannibal) -- something correlating to Cassandra.

 

Travis-- Killed by Cassandra. Minor threat for a time. Keep an eye on.

 

Mr. Murphy managed to crash the SUV into the Tanker. Loss of gas and two vehicles. Truck filled halfway up, Thomas providing two gas cans more.

 

Thomas-- describes himself as Ten Thousand. Mr. Murphy called him 10K. Remember not to say birthname aloud.

 

"Whatcha writing?" She heard Doc ask, peeking over as she startled, swearing.

 

"Don't do that." Blake chastised, pulling the notebook closer to her chest as the truck started to speed up down the road, blowing her hair in her face.

 

Doc smirked, sitting back against the truck bed's sides. "Sorry. Just curious." He apologized, seeming to figure she wasn't going to give him an answer just like the other one hundred times he had asked.

 

Playfully, she rolled her eyes, sighing as she despised having to write the next part.

 

Hammond-- Dead. Bitten by a zombie, mercied at Refinery. Supposed cause: saving Mr. Murphy.

 

She hesitated before writing the next part.

 

Refusal of traveling back in time.

 

She couldn't. She wanted to save him, she really did, but she wasn't sure how to. Sure she'd keep him alive, but she'd separate the group in the process. After coming this far in four years since being sent back in time, Blake still wasn't sure what was the best plan of option. God, she really wanted to save Hammond, the name on her list saying that she had to, but what would she jeopardize now?

 

Splitting from the group, finding the location of the Time Travel machine, and tempting fate by going back in time? She could, and she really wanted to, but after coming this far, what did it cost as an end result? Did it cost everything? Would it spare nothing? Hammond was dead, and that was one of the long list of failures that Blake wasn't sure if it was right to improve at this moment.

 

If traveling back in time again, keep watch of Hammond. Keep Mr. Murphy from driving out into the zombies and fill-up location.

 

End of entry.

 

She huffed to herself, shoving the notebook back into her worse for wear backpack, and pulling it back onto her shoulders. The conversation next to her, drawing her out of her thoughts of Hammond and Operation Do-Over as they drove away from the refinery.

 

"Excuse me, ma'am." She heard Thomas's hesitant voice speak up for one of the very few times he ever did so. She drew her attention up towards him, but it wasn't her he was talking to.

 

Blake nudged Cassandra, causing the younger woman to look towards her, then Thomas as Blake motioned towards him.

 

"You have a finger in your hair." The way he said it, ranging from emotionless to the fact, to slightly humorful, almost caused Blake to snort, drawing her attention down to Cassandra's hair to, of course, see a finger.

 

Cassandra gave him an unamused look, not drawing her attention off of Thomas until he nodded down towards where the finger was. Then had she finally looked, a look of pure shock and disgust overcoming her face as she quickly grabbed the fat finger and flung it onto the road.

 

The tense interaction was cut short as Simon's voice drew their attention from the radio, cutting off the song "Walk Through Fire" as a memorial was spoken for Hammond, reminding Blake of the loss of a member she was leaving behind by choice.

 

With that, the memorial ended to all that were listening, and the song resumed, assuming a more depressed tone as they drove down the abandoned and zombie covered road.

 

If only she knew what came next.

Notes:

I might not post on my regular schedule of a week--- I feel like I'm behind, seeing as how I have to post on the 25th to keep these dates up. I have another chapter coming up called, "Reappearing Faces", so I might not get the chapters out there on time. Just a head's up...I could be completely wrong.

Also, there is this one Apply Fic on Wattpad that I saw. The plot is really good. If you want to apply characters the story is called "THE LIBERATED, apply fic" by n or artemiskeyy...I would recommend checking it out if you are into zombies and the supernatural. You can apply characters until the 20th of March.

Are you allowed to talk about other's stories on here? Sorry, if not.

Coming Soon:
Philly Feast Remake (Part One)

Chapter 12: Philly Feast Remake (Part One)

Summary:

Overview: Out for revenge on Cassandra, her dangerous former "family" catches up with the team and kidnaps Addy, endangering the mission. But with Blake and Murphy's knowledge, things are sure to change.

Notes:

Well, hello. Bet you didn't see another update after two days, huh? I found it is easier to write divergence chapters and scenes than time travel scenes following the show, so I have given you mercy of waiting a week and am posting again. Yay!

WARNING: The first part of this chapter focuses on what happened in the show with Cassandra with the cannibals. There is no "sex/smut", but it is alluded to. If you do not like, be cautious when reading.

Cassandra's POV:

 

She could already feel herself shaking, even before they brought in the next man, John as he went by. Cassandra tried to cover it up; a fake smile, a fake laugh, but nothing could hide her fear to what she'd have to do.

 

They had given John a beer, letting him do what he had to do within the RV, all the while she had to seduce him-- lure him into a trap. She pushed the thoughts down, swallowing nervously as she smiled widely towards him.

 

"So…What brings you to Philly, baby?" Remember your training. Do what they've taught you. Don’t show fear.

 

It was all an act to keep up, but Cassandra had never found herself to be a good actor.

 

She gave him a flirtatious look, scanning him up in down. His smile was genuine compared to hers, taking another sip of his beer as he looked her over as well.

 

She felt so exposed…so open to a complete stranger.

 

"I'm looking to do a little bartering." He set down the beer on the nearest table, making his way over to her.

 

Cassandra wanted to tell him to run--to scream at him to leave before they chopped off his legs, but she knew she couldn't. Tobias wouldn't let her. She knew what would follow if she ever dared to do something like that.

 

"Your name really Sunshine?" He asked, letting out a quiet, quick laugh, his smile only widening.

 

She couldn't say this man was innocent, but God nobody deserved this. He could have killed, and raped, and hurt anyone in his path, but Cassandra didn't know. She didn't know who John was. He could have been lonely, craving for human attention just as she had been before Tobias had brought her into his family. She didn't know what John's motives were, but she couldn't help but fear, imagining looking an innocent man in the eyes, knowing that you were going to eat him sooner or later.

 

But she hid it, shifting trying to seem as flirty as possible. She wasn't allowed to give her real name, so to draw away his attention from the question, she started to slip off her shirt, pulling it over her head leaving her exposed in her bra and underwear.

 

She couldn't react, but she hated all of it. She felt exposed, showing herself to a complete stranger. She could feel the cool air hitting her skin, and she desperatly wanted to throw her shirt and pants back on. To hide herself from John's prying gaze.

 

"Does it matter?"

 

Cassandra would never do this-- this wasn't her. If she separated herself with the name Tobias gave her, she could sleep somewhat at night. If she tried to make herself believe that Sunshine was bait and a cannibal, and Cassandra was a survivor of the apocalypse; that was the only way she could ever live with herself.

 

"I guess not." He whispered, fiddling with his jacket nervously as he looked her body over again, still with the smile on his face. "It's been a long time…" He breathed out, moving onto the bed with her as he returned his attention back to her eyes. "…since I've seen a woman's body."

 

A chill ran up her spine, thinking over how she would go about this. How she would taser a man for food, during a time that was supposed to be a shared trust between each other. The whole idea of this had changed Cassandra's perception, causing her to shake just thinking about it.

 

He ran a hand along her bare legs as they looked into one another's eyes. She could see something in it. Something different--something mixed within the longing. Something that bore into her soul, looking for answers.

 

The eyes of a man that had knowledge. The eyes that she could never make sense of.

 

"At least, a living woman." John tried to joke, hand still against her bare skin, causing her legs to quiver more and more with the touch.

 

"You're shaking." He noticed, staring down at her legs before looking back towards her.

 

Dammit. Don't look there. Just look at me. Keep your attention on me. Please don't make this harder than it already is.

 

"It's nothing, baby. Just the cold." Lies. Lie over and over--cover up your fear because this is how you have to live. This is what you have to do to survive.

 

She caressed his cheek, drawing his attention back to her.

 

"Well let's see if we can warm you up." He nodded, the smile still lining his face; expecting, wanting, longing.

 

He leaned forward, but she pushed him back, still trying to keep the fake act across her face as she gave him a toothy smile before nodding down with a questioning look.

 

"Are you forgetting something, lover?" She hated the way the nicknames rolled off her tongue. In all her life Pre-Z, Cassandra never imagined she'd be stuck in this situation. Every promise she made. Every time she'd dream of being with a handsome man that would whisk her away to a fantasy land to her happily ever after.

 

Now she was left in a zombie apocalypse, seducing men and eating them alive just to survive.

 

"Right." John moved to get something out of his pocket, as Cassandra let go of his shirt, rubbing his back as he tried to get his 'payment' out.

 

With his eyes off of her, she let her act fall slightly, breathing becoming slightly jagged against her fake smile she tried to keep up. John--no, she refused to keep calling him that. She couldn't taser him. Not if she kept looking at him as another living human being. No matter what he committed, she couldn't do it. Not with calling him John all the time.

 

The man removed the pills in the bag, setting a good amount on the table as she ran her hand along his bald head before he turned around towards her-- the act once again lining her face.

 

"And there's plenty more where that came from." He informed, leaning against the bed as she lowered herself down to the soft mattress below.

 

"Let's do this."

 

He was on top of her, removing his shirt as he breathed heavily, like he had been waiting a long time for something like this. He started to kiss her neck, harshly, and Cassandra tried as hard not to react by pushing him off and screaming.

 

She was afraid of doing this, but she feared Tobias more.

 

Cassandra tried to ignore the kisses, closing her eyes and imagining she was somewhere else, somewhere safe and warm and cozy where no one could hurt her and she could hurt no one. But slowly, the illusion was ruined and she was reminded why and what she was doing.

 

Pushing the man down as he kissed her exposed stomach, she reached desperately behind the pillow, breathing heavily in fear as she tried to retrieve the taser. She struggled, not feeling anything expect the soft cushion and ruffled pillows, until finally her hand crossed the cool metal in the warmth and she pulled the taser out.

 

She quickly held down on the button, hearing the taser click and going to taser the man. He heard it before she could do it, grabbing her wrist.

 

"Crazy bitch!" He screamed, voice cracking in fear. "I knew something was wrong with you!"

 

He pushed her down no matter her struggles. "You trying to rip me off?"

 

No! She wanted to scream--cry even. She wasn't going to rip him off. It was so much worse than that.

 

"I'll teach you." He used her wrist against her, hearing the taser click as it neared her face. She barely heard the door over her own fear; her heart pounding in her chest and her heavy breathing mixing in with the clicking of the surge of electricity about to collide against her cheek.

 

"Thought I told you no rough stuff." She heard Tobias speak, thankfully getting the man off of her as he jumped up, taser in hand as he stared at Tobias in anger and fear.

 

"You picked the wrong mark." The man's voice was dangerously low, challenging Tobias as he threw the taser to the ground and dodged Samuel's attacks, smashing a bottle over his head.

 

He threw Samuel to the couch, punching him repeatedly in the face before Tobias grabbed the man's arm. The man was quick, moving off of Samuel and punching Tobias in the chin, knocking him down. Cassandra was quick enough to notice the taser on the ground, picking it up and running behind the man.

 

She tasered him in the neck, trying to block out his screams as he tumbled to the couch that Tobias had fallen on.

 

His name is not John. He is not a human. I am not Cassandra. I am Sunshine. This is not Cassandra. That is not John.

 

She breathed heavily in fear, watching his body crumpled forward as she backed up.

 

This is not Cassandra. I am Sunshine. This is Sunshine.

 

Tobias got up, recovering from the hit to his face as he held out his hand expectantly towards the taser in her hand. Quickly, she sloppily gave it to him, her hands shaking.

 

"Some people just don't listen." Tobias said aloud to no one in particular, tasering the man over and over again.

 

He is not John. He is not human. It is survival.

 

Once the tasering and whimpering ceased, and Samuel was back on his feet, Tobias yelled out commands.

 

"Go check his jacket."

 

Samuel did as he was told, Cassandra still reeling in fear over tasering the man and messing up with Tobias and Samuel getting hurt in the process. She knew this wasn't going to end well, all of those thoughts clogging her head with fear.

 

Samuel grabbed the pills from the man's jacket, bringing both out with a smile on his bruising face. "Someone likes to party."

 

She couldn't help but roll her eyes, hearing Tobias's angry, disappointed voice as he grabbed the drugs. "Give me that." He stuffed them into his pocket, motioning down towards the tasered man. "Make sure he doesn't have any weapons."

 

Samuel went to go check over the man as Tobias's attention fell on her. "And what happened to you?" His voice rose, and Cassandra couldn't help but cower in fear, crossing her arms over her bare chest." You forget everything I taught you?"

 

Out of fear, her voiced raised as well--not angry like Tobias, but terrified. "I tried to do it exactly like you showed me, but he was too strong." Her voice cracked as tears welled up in her eyes.

 

She couldn't do it. She was afraid. Weak, while the man was strong. The look in his eyes like he knew what she was going to do, when she knew she couldn't even do it.

 

"I'll do it better next time. I promise."

 

Tobias's disapproving look never left her, tight-lipped as he shook his head.

 

"You can't be afraid. Hesitation will get you killed." He repeated the same speech as all the other times, quoting what he usually said during training. "You know I love you, Sunshine."

 

She couldn't help but shy away at the name. With Tobias, she was never Cassandra. She never was ever since the day he took her in.

 

"Like I love all my children." He continued with emphasis, and Cassandra knew what was coming next. "Give me you're hand." He commanded, and Cassandra had no other choice than to obey, putting her arm outstretched so Tobias had a clear shot of it.

 

Like every other time she was punished, the taser zapped on her arm, long and hard as the electricity surged throughout her body. She could feel the cool pain coursing through her body, convulsing in on herself as her head fell backwards. The pain didn’t ease up, going on and on until she fell to the ground, catching herself against the couch in pain as she cried into it silently.

 

I am Sunshine. This is how I survive.

------line break-----

 

Pulling herself out of her dark memories, she ran her hand along the marks left on her arm. Counting each as her fingers touched the scarred skin.

 

One, two, three.

 

Each one reminded her of her time with Tobias. Each one reminded her why she ran away and what she was running away from. Each mark showed her what Tobias thought was a fair punishment.

 

Bastard.

 

She would never go back there, she couldn't, but driving through Philly was only sparking her memories farther into the dark world she tried to hide.

 

Pulling down her sleeve, she looked around the car, hand mindlessly playing with the music box in her pocket. The one Blake had found after she had thrown it over the edge to Travis.

 

Blake sat next to her, causing Cassandra's anxiety to rise higher, afraid Blake would break down the wall Cassandra had built up. The wall she tried so hard to keep from collapsing and letting the others see what she was hiding inside.

 

But with each look Blake, or even Murphy gave her, it was like the wall crumpled farther. She hated the way they looked at her like they knew her whole life and could see every lie she used. They weren't supposed to know, or even have a clue about who she was, but their eyes betrayed them.

 

If only she could figure out what the looks meant.

 

Murphy's words betrayed him as well, leaving her on high alert around him, afraid of what he knew while simultaneously being afraid of what he was. He called her Sunshine before. That name was only used by the cannibals (namely Tobias) or told to the victims that were eaten. How Murphy knew only frightened her more.

 

That is, if the name was even used in that regard.

 

They were all riding in the truck, finding no luck in any other vehicles for the past day and a half of driving. They had been able to syphon a little gas here and there, but other than that, Cassandra knew they would be walking soon if they didn't find any gas.

 

Warren was driving this time with Garnett in the passenger's seat, much like the usual seating arrangement. Blake sat sandwiched between her and Murphy, one of which neither Murphy nor Blake seemed to find enjoyable.

 

Murphy hung his head out the window like a dog at the moment, eyes scanning the perimeter for zombies and humans. His shirt pulled up at the end, exposing the gruesome bitemarks that her and the others saw not too long ago.

 

Cassandra had been terrified plenty of times in her life, but seeing those bites sparked a new fear in her-- one that she couldn't explain.

 

Doc, Addy, Mack, and Ten Thousand sat in the truck bed, holding on as Warren graciously refused to hit as many zombies as she had last time.

 

Cassandra spared a quick glance out the rearview mirror, watching Ten Thousand as he scanned the roads. She didn't know what it was about him. Ever since he had killed those four zombies around her cage and then left quickly after, it was like he had been stalking her ever since. She'd catch him watching her, curiously or suspiciously, and then draw his gaze away before he would think she noticed.

 

It was kind of creepy, but Cassandra couldn't really say much about it when she had been doing the same thing to him. Then again, that was just making sure he didn't hurt her, so it was different. Right?

 

Maybe, but she didn't trust him, and she didn't trust the group either.

 

What happens when I tell them what you are?!

 

Travis's voice rang in her ears, reminding her of the wall, fixing the cracks that had been broken and allowed any peepholes for people to see through. She couldn't let this group know. She may not trust them-- not at the moment, at least-- but she couldn't let them find out.

 

It would be so much worse for her if they knew what type of monster she was.

 

Her hand ran along the cool metal of the music box again as she returned her attention back towards Warren. "Why are we going this way? Philly's a dead zone."

 

She would try as hard as she could to get them away. There is no way she'd allow them to find out what she was.

 

"Hopefully we can scavenge something without going too deep into the city." Garnett spoke over the whirling wind from Murphy's open window, who was slowly drawing his head back in to listen to the conversation.

 

"If we find a working radio," Garnett continued, " we can try to contact that Z guy again."

 

Cassandra sighed, shifting her attention back towards the window as Blake shifted beside her. Cassandra turned her attention back towards the woman, watching as Blake side-eyed Murphy.

 

"You think heading around the area is safe?" Blake asked, drawing her attention away from Murphy and back between Garnett and Warren. "No telling what's creeping around the outskirt areas." With her last remark, her attention subtly shifted over to Cassandra, causing her to slink back closer to the window as her hand gripped tighter around the music box.

 

Blake was going to put her secret out there. She just knew it.

 

"No where's safe." Warren replied over her shoulder, sparing a glance between the three in the back before looking towards the road.

 

"You know," Murphy started, looking from out the window towards Cassandra and the others in the car. "For once in my life, either statement is true, while being an utter bullshit reality."

 

Cassandra rolled her eyes at Murphy's pessimistic attitude, as he scratched the back of his neck before continuing. "I don't trust Philly. Just doesn't feel right." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his gaze lingering over to Cassandra, but she could see the underlying worry in his eyes as he spoke.

 

"Yeah, well we're not taking any orders from you." Garnett's voice rose, agitated as he looked back towards Murphy. "If it hadn't been for you mauling the oil covered zombies instead of staying with Doc, Hammond wouldn't be dead right now and we wouldn't be taking you to California." He pointed his finger at Murphy, before lowering it and calming his attitude.

 

She watched as Murphy's lip twitched, hands nervously tapping his side as he blinked a few times, seemingly coming to terms mentally with something before shifting his gaze back out the window.

 

"Philadelphia." His tone changed back to that covered worry with a pessimistic attitude as he hung his head back out the window. "The city of brotherly love, now filled with men eating men." 

 

Her gripped tightened more around the music box, willing away any of the times Tobias had cut the flesh off of a defenseless man tied down to a table.

 

She could hear the snarling of the zombies eating a poor man alive as they drove down the road. Brotherly love was long lost on Philadelphia.

 

They drove an hour or so longer down the lifeless roads before Warren spoke, drawing Cassandra's attention back towards the front. "Is that what I think it is?"

 

Immediately, Cassandra drew her head up, everyone looking to the side of the road as Garnett voiced what they were thinking aloud.

 

"No way." He refused to believe as Warren slowed the car, the shock evident as everyone looked at it.

 

Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes, thinking they were betraying her. There, on the trailer of a truck was the real Liberty Bell, strapped down in its glory.

 

"Wow." Garnett paused for a moment, admiring the historical piece before getting out of the truck and heading over to it, Warren doing the same.

 

"Is that really the Liberty Bell?" Mack asked, still sitting in the truck bed with Addy beside him as Doc stood beside her and Ten Thousand beside Doc; all of them either confused as to why or shocked to see it there.

 

Blake pushed past Murphy to get out, but Murphy put his feet against the back of Garnett's seat, blocking her to do so.

 

"Are you gonna let me out?" The annoyance in her voice was evident as Blake's eyes narrowed at him.

 

"No." He shrugged, seeming disconnected with his voice, but the feud between them was clear. Blake tried to push down his legs, but Murphy wouldn't budge, ignoring any action she took.

 

"Forget it, Mr. Murphy." She whispered low enough under her breath, thinking Cassandra hadn't caught it. It wasn't her place to judge, but it was odd to hear Murphy's name as Mr. Murphy instead, but that was Blake's reasons, so she didn't say anything as the woman turned towards her.

 

"Mind if I get out here, hun?" The agitated tone left her voice, a simple and sweet tone taking its place. Cassandra wasn't sure she liked the change of pace, Blake seeming all too comfortable around her when she knew Cassandra was hiding secrets.

 

With a nod of her head, Cassandra got out of the car, holding the door open for Blake as they both walked to the side Garnett and Warren were on.

 

" 'Proclaim liberty throughout all the land and unto all the inhabitants thereof.' " Garnett recited, slowly making his way over to the bell. "Yeah, that's it."

 

Doc jumped down beside Blake, walking over to Garnett as well, his attention solely on the bell.

 

"Three years of zombie apocalypse, you think you've seen everything." The wonder in Doc's voice was clear as he spoke.

 

"Well when everything went bad, they probably tried to save a little history." Warren deduced walking beside Garnett as she went to checked the straps on the bell, and if the truck had any gas in it to run.

 

When zombies hit, Cassandra couldn't see the point in saving history, but then again, it was up to people's perceptions. Either save history and most likely die in the process, or save yourself from getting bitten, and decide what history needs to be saved later. Perception and opinion. Some get you killed, others let you live.

 

Warren took out her syphon, checking to see what gas was left as Blake touched the side of the bell, gapping in wonder at it.

 

"Always wanted to take Jen to see this. Hope she's not too disappointed." The sad smile lining Blake's face was gone as quick as it came as Doc spoke.

 

"Maybe after we get to Cali, we'll drive this to Silver-Tail and surprise her." He joked, as Blake laughed slightly beside him.

 

"She'd like that." She turned towards Doc, smiling to the man, as Warren pulled out the syphon.

 

"The truck still has fuel." She turned to Garnett, who walked in front of her. "If we can get this thing started, they won't have to ride out in the open like that." Warren deduced, tying the syphon back up so it was easier to put it away.

 

Cassandra hadn't been thinking how dangerous it was to ride out in the open; from snipers, lucky shots, or even watching cannibals in the area. She shuddered, looking around her to see if she could spot any movement from above or the alleyways. She couldn't find any, luckily, as she turned back to the others.

 

"Well I'm all for that." Doc agreed.

 

"I'll grab the jumper cable." Mack offered to help, going to get the cable and jumping off the back.

 

"God bless the human race." Doc started as Cassandra looked over to him, then the bell that his gaze fell upon. "99% of them dead. But there's still one jackass alive with a spray can." He shook his head, nodding at the bell.

 

She could see the dull and faded spray marks on the bell, lining the historic piece like it was another wall in the city.

 

Warren capped the gas tank again, heading to open what looked to be an unlocked driver's side door to hopefully start up the car. The second her hand touched the handle, Cassandra got a bad feeling, not nearly as shocked as some of the others as a zombie screeched and crawled at Warren when she opened the door.

 

Ten Thousand was quick to react, letting the metal gear fly from his slingshot right into the zombie's brain, killing it within seconds of its appearance. It fell back into the seats, the door closing on its feet hanging out.

 

"One thousand seventy-five." He counted, gaze lingering on the zombie before subtly shifting over to Cassandra. He looked away just as quickly when he caught that she had been watching him.

 

Still, besides the staring, she couldn't deny he was efficient in killing Zs and a great shot.

 

Warren saluted him, slightly out of breath from the unprepared scare, before she headed back over to the truck to get it started. After Blake pulled up the bloody truck from before, Mack and Garnett started to jump start the truck, as most of the others milled around the area keeping watch.

 

Cassandra's gaze fell towards the roofs or alleyways, watching for any cannibals and staying hidden in blind spots. Travis had easily found her with the group-- she couldn't risk another mess-up like that that would lead Tobias straight to her.

 

She wasn't sure how long it had been before they got the truck to start, and a chain of commands were yelled out.

 

"Alright. Murphy, Mack, you're with me and Warren. Everyone else load up in the pickup." Garnett said, closing the hood of the truck. "Stay close."

 

Slowly, she made her way back to the pickup, sitting where Murphy had sat before as the others loaded up as well. With the seat near the door, she kept a close watch for anything (zombie or not) that would be a threat. Namely cannibals.

 

Besides the dead slamming up against the car, or Warren in the front hitting them, nothing alive appeared in her view. Luckily, but Cassandra learned to fear for the worst at all times during the apocalypse. Like Warren said, no where is safe.

 

Doc was driving with Ten Thousand beside him in the passenger's seat. Surprisingly, he hadn't been sparing her glances like usual, but she couldn't help but look wary over towards him. She still didn't trust him.

 

Addy had luckily taken the middle, separating her from Blake. The arrangement was fine, albeit slightly crammed, but Cassandra had been in worse dilemmas.

 

With all the outrageous things going on already, Cassandra was questioning what the hell was happening. The group had 'saved' (as they call it) her from the cage, taken her in so that Hammond could bring her to an outpost, and changed the plan the very next day. Instead, Hammond had died and this group was tasked with taking Murphy to California.

 

She wasn't sure what she got roped into, but she wasn't on board with it. She stayed with this group (not out of trust) but because they hadn't hurt her. So far, it was all she had to stay safe. Cassandra may not like what was going on, but she didn't have an option at the moment.

 

At least, she didn't think she did.

 

"Are we really taking Murphy to California." Even she knew that was suicide. Whether the man held the cure or not, traveling all the way across country in a zombie apocalypse was bound to get this group killed. Cassandra had common sense, and she didn't like the whole idea of it, but her common sense was overruled by the need of safety.

 

Until she could find a place safer or away from the cannibals, it may be better to split than to walk into her own grave.

 

"That's the plan." Doc shrugged, eyes not leaving the road.

 

"You know that's a long way. Nobody makes it that far alive." She didn't want to sound pessimistic, but she knew favor and statics, and neither played into their hands.

 

Addy turned slightly towards her from looking out the window. "But if it's for a cure, it's worth it. Right?"

 

Not if she ended up dying. What was the point if she was dead?

 

Cassandra did care about others, but she saw the ways of the world and the deranged ways of others firsthand. She hadn't come across too many people that were left worth saving anymore. She just couldn't imagine dying to benefit the evil left in the world.

 

Cassandra shrugged, moving slightly closer to the window, staring out it mindlessly. "Depends." Despite her voice being quiet, it was loud enough for the others to hear.

 

That is, she thought they might have heard. The honking of a horn, Warren's tires screeching as she hastily swerved from an oncoming car, and Doc and Blake's cussing might have drowned out what Cassandra had said.

 

Unlike Warren, Doc had slowly pulled over to the side, watching the street that Warren had swerved into. From the opposite end, Cassandra struggled to see out the tinted, pulled up window, but she could make out the scene well enough.

 

She watched as the bell broke loose from its bondages, clunking and tumbling down the road as it crushed defenseless zombies in it's path. So much for liberty.

 

"What the hell!?" Blake nearly yelled horrified, leaning against the window as she lowered the glass, allowing Cassandra and Addy a better view of the tumbling death bell.

 

"Yeah! I'd pay money to see that again." Doc cheered, smiling as he leaned out the window.

 

She could see Addy's smile, barely holding back a laugh as she tried to do the same. Blake, though, was a whole different story. The horrified face she had was enough to make Addy break into a laughing fit, absently leaning against Cassandra as she too tried to keep from bursting out in giggles.

 

Blake swore in a breath, opening the door as she got out. "Definitely not taking Jen to that."

 

That broke her. Cassandra couldn't help but laugh with Addy, curling against the woman in a fit to try and stop even though she didn't really want to. She hadn't laughed this much in a very long time, and the break from the grief and trauma was more than she could ever ask for.

 

Ten Thousand wasn't as amused as her, Addy, or Doc though, but as she pulled her attention over towards him, she could make out the slightest of a grin lining his usually emotionless face.

 

She barely heard the command of everyone getting back in the truck before the door opened and Warren took Doc's place driving. For some reason unbeknownst to her, Ten Thousand followed Doc, the two of them heading back over to the truck bed with Mack. Murphy started to head that way too, but Warren had stopped him mid-step.

 

"Nu-uh. I don't want someone taking a shot at you. Sit in the backseats." She ordered, getting a huff from Murphy and a roll of his eyes, but nonetheless, he complied.

 

"Get out Princess. This is my seat." He sneered towards Blake, pointing to the truck bed. Blake's face scrunched in annoyance, taking a deep breath as she pushed past him, whispering in his ear before hopping into the bed of the truck.

 

Murphy shook his head, a clear look of irritation on his face as he pulled himself into the back seat on the driver's side. His attention had turned towards the blood splatters of used-to-be-zombies smushed by the Deadly Bell, before he noticed her staring.

 

She tried to look away before he caught her, but luck hadn't played in her favor as he spoke. "Some people." He grumbled.

 

She couldn't tell if he was talking about her or Blake, but given the recent examples of hatred between the two grown adults, Cassandra had a lucky guess.

 

----line break---

 

Murphy's POV:

 

The wrapper of the Twinkie felt heavy in his hands as he stared blankly at the precious piece of food. It's not that it had been so long since he had seen one of these-- no, plenty of Blends in Toivo had obsessions with the pastry. It was just that it had been a long time since he held this particular Twinkie, on this particular day, in this particular year.

 

Thus, time travel.

 

"Enjoy." Warren finished handing out the last of their food supplies, holding the small piece of food that was hers. "That's the last of the food." She sighed, taking a small bite of hers, hoping to enjoy it.

 

Murphy wanted to have the same idea, but like last time, he hadn't had much of a single morsel in a while-- even less now since he hadn't scarfed down the food they had given him and Hammond at Camp Blue Sky. Luckily, he remained a top priority in the group at the moment, and with the fear that they would lose their cure to starvation, they had allowed him to have a full Twinkie.

 

Given the fact that they had an extra member this time, Blake to be precise, the food was split even less than it was before. Besides Murphy, the group split half with one another, spreading out in the conglomerated alleyway as they spoke amongst themselves and ate.

 

The only person who sat next to him this time was 10K-- probably much to the kid's displeasure. Warren and Garnett were mingling over by the opening, keeping watch for the dead as they slowly ate their pastry. Everyone else, spread out, followed the same idea-- that is, besides Murphy.

 

As quickly as he had last time, he scarfed the meal, knowing later his appetite may or may not be ruined. Then again, what did it matter when they wouldn't find food for a couple days after that?

 

He licked the wrapper clean of the filling, throwing the empty plastic into the truck bed behind him. Without looking 10K's direction, his eyes shifted to look at the Twinkie in the sniper's hand.

 

It hadn't worked too well in his favor last time with trying to convince the kid to hand over the Twinkie, something along the lines of Murphy saying his "Big guts were eating his little guts." Due to the kid being a selfish, ungrateful little bastard when it came to Murphy, he had shoved the whole damn thing into his mouth last time.

 

Murphy was still hungry-- of course he was-- but his plan last time hadn't worked. He was tempted to push the boundaries of time travel. See what he could change this time around and see what affect that had later on.

 

If he tried to snag the Twinkie from 10K this time, would 10K sense it and still shove it in his mouth, or would Murphy actually get it?

 

He was willing to test it out-- assuming Blake wouldn't shoot his ass because of it, that is. It's not like he was disobeying the Risen, right? Then again, anything could be disrespectful to the Risen given their twisted mind-set.

 

Without addressing it, he watched 10K hold the Twinkie, seemingly lost in thought as he gazed out in front of him. Murphy took the opportunity, reaching over to pluck the pastry from 10K's hand.

 

The kid noticed, moving to bring the Twinkie back to his mouth, but Murphy was quicker than last time, grabbing the end of the Twinkie and pulling part of it off, leaving 10K with three-fourths of the already half pastry.

 

He stared at the end of the treat, watching as the filling oozed out onto the pastry's dough.

 

Holy hell. He actually got it.

 

He watched 10K cringe, only biting off part of the end as he stared disgusted at the part where Murphy's grimy, dirty fingers had grabbed-- the dirt left on the treat.

 

10K glared at him, and the Twinkie's end that Murphy held. Still surprised that he had even managed to get the treat, Murphy smirked, shoving the bit in his mouth that he stole from 10K as the teenager grimaced, grumbling quietly under his breath as he glared at Murphy.

 

He already heard the footsteps head his way, watching as Blake glared down at him. The Risen member's anger was more than clear, but it softened as she looked towards 10K, offering some of her own Moon Pie that someone had found on a shelf earlier.

 

10K looked towards the offer, and Murphy could clearly see the grateful and surprised look in his eyes, but he declined without a word, getting up from his spot on the tailgate, grabbing his rifle and getting away from Murphy.

 

Yep. Just like the 10K he remembered.

 

He still couldn't get used to seeing them again, smirking victoriously at his small accomplishment that he hadn't achieved last time until Blake's voice ruined it.

 

"Why do you have to be such a dick?" She asked, leaning against the tailgate and staring at him, wrapping the last of her Moon Pie up and setting it back into her bag.

 

Great…Blake. Murphy couldn't help but think sarcastically.

 

"Could ask the same for you." He grumbled, rolling his eyes as he scooted away from her, close enough so he could jump off the truck bed.  He didn't want to deal with her, or this, or any of it right now. He was pissed off at her for more than enough reasons, and this was only fueling the fire.

 

She scoffed, shaking her head as she lowered her voice. "I thought you were supposed to be their friend?" He was their friend…in the future really, and only for some of them. "Stealing food from Thomas back in time isn't going to build up that fake relationship." She chastised mockingly.

 

A growl settled at the back of his throat. She would know all about fake relationships, wouldn't she? He was so tempted just to bite her, turn her into his Blend just like he mentally promised back when he was in the Risen's grasp. Then she would finally see what the Blend life was like. She'd see what her and her sadistic rebellion had killed and destroyed.

 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t. Murphy wasn't too sure if she would even become a Blend of his at this point. It was only recently that the zombies started to see him as one of them. There was no telling if she would become his Blend, become feral like Cassandra had, or if it wouldn't work at all.

 

He still had a few more months before he could try it.

 

Still, why the hell did she call him Thomas? Murphy supposed the Blends called 10K that a fair amount of times, but it wasn't like Murphy had publicly put it out all that much. If he had a guess, it was probably the Risen that found out somehow.

 

He scoffed towards her, somewhat loudly as she turned towards him, a questioning mixed within the hatred. "I wouldn't call him that if I were you." He taunted, remembering all the times he had done so with 10K in the future. He hadn't got much of a reaction due to 10K being his Blend, but this time, the kid was in full control and hadn't told anyone yet.

 

Especially a stranger like Blake.

 

Then again, it would always be fun to see how 10K would lash out on Blake-- that is, if he hadn't given the warning.

 

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Murphy." She snapped bitterly, scooting up on the tailgate before she looked towards him.

 

God how he hated that name. She still hadn't stopped calling him it, and it was riding on the last of his nerves. Not like he had any for the woman anyhow.

 

"Stop calling me that." He couldn't express how much of a disdain he held for those two words coming out of her mouth.

 

She drew in a breath, refusing to respond as she looked over to his group, gaze lingering on Cassandra before she turned to him again.

 

"You're going to have to work with me here. I can't save them by myself. I don't have all the knowledge that you have, but you being a stubborn asshole won't get us far. If you want them to die, I can change my plans for this mission; but if you can finally open your mouth without saying something nasty, they might just make it out alive."

 

Out of all the things she said, might stood out to him the most. She was offering teamwork to save the group? Seriously? After everything, and now she says they might be able to save them?

 

He wasn't loud as a disbelieving laugh escaped his lips. "How well did that work with Hammond?"

 

He should have expected the death, he really should have. The universe wasn't gracious enough to save Hammond unexpectedly and allow him to live. Murphy shouldn't have built up a false hope, thinking this whole fiasco would actually work.

 

Her attention snapped towards him, the thin line of her lips tight as her nostrils flared. He could see the guilt cloud her vision. Good. Just as it should.

 

"It did work." She started, as Murphy gawked, opening his mouth to protest against the shitty response she gave that was completely false given the circumstances. She stopped him, speaking before he could. "Hammond didn't die like he had before. He had already lived past his death date."

 

That was her excuse for it working? Murphy scoffed, finding the answer even more pitiful than it already was. "Yeah, and he still died."

 

Another dead corpse burning back at the Refinery.

 

Blake's attention was fully on him, given him the 'Are you that stupid?' look. "Just because we traveled back in time doesn't mean that once we save that person from their original death, that everything else won't remain just as plausible of a death for them." She explained, hushed in her tone so the others couldn't hear.

 

Murphy could understand the outright ridiculous scheme of what she was saying, but he wouldn't settle for that as an answer. Not with all the other factors that played into this situation.

 

"You expect me to believe that? No one died at the Refinery last time…besides Travis, of course." Not like the cannibal was at the forefront of his mind right now, but it was better to get all the facts down.

 

He couldn't believe the time travel bullshit she was spewing because it had too many inconsistencies. The Refinery hadn't killed a single soul a part of the group, and now all of a sudden it remains a major death threat? Murphy was not going to fall for that.

 

She grinded her teeth, lipping twitching into a frown. "It was new for Hammond." She argued. "Just because it wasn't a threat last time, doesn't mean it isn't a threat this time."

 

Oh great. Now everything was likely to kill the group. Hell, if he was following that logic, the cheese wheel could manage to kill them for some unexplained reason-- like, Murphy didn't know, a gust of wind blowing it the opposite direction and crushing Warren and Addy?

 

Murphy remained silent as Blake continued. "I was able to save my daughter from death--multiple times for years past the time she was supposed to die. Just because we save them once, doesn't mean anyone is home free from death. Any instance is as likely to kill them as if it is the first time their experiencing it. You and me included."

 

 Murphy's mouth hung open. All logic out the window, he was getting more and more pissed at what Blake was telling him. All this knowledge he had of the future was shit when any instance could kill them. A miss-fire of a bullet that hadn't happened last time could kill the group this time. The cannibals could remain even bigger of a threat. The list went on and on and on, and every small instance that Murphy assumed would likely happened again seemed to be thrown out the window.

 

He nodded his head, not in agreement, far from it actually. "So you're telling me everything that happens in the future is jack-shit compared to now?"

 

Blake shook her head, this being the first time that either of them had a decent conversation without trying to rip each other's throats out. "No, it still helps, which is why I'm asking for your compliance. I told you I can't do this alone-- not without having your knowledge from working first hand on this mission."

 

She paused for a moment, sensing that she had become slightly gentler with him, and less harsh. She straightened up, refusing to be seen as vulnerable towards him as Murphy did the same, remembering he was talking to a Risen member, and not someone who was willingly helping save the group.

 

"But, " Despite being quiet, her tone raised some, losing that gentle quality and becoming harsh again. "I told you that if you decide otherwise, I don't care who's watching. I'll put a bullet through your brain and do this over with someone else." She froze for a second, allowing Murphy to growl at her with her standards of delusion as she swallowed nervously. "Don't make me use my choice, Murphy. We've told you that you wouldn't like it-- this doesn't come as something different."

 

The callback caught Murphy off guard, the memory flooding back to him again.

 

The world was not meant to be that way. We all have choices to make. You made yours and now we're making ours.

 

It hadn't been a moment after that when the Risen started to kill the Blends, innocents, young, old, and the group just for their sick sense of freedom.

 

He processed it over, thinking about what Blake meant. If he didn't comply to the Risen's standards to bring a cure to the world, he was as good as dead. Choice as Blake 'wisely' puts it.

 

Murphy opposed the idea, imagining how it would have been better if the zombie apocalypse hadn't happened at all. "Here's a bright idea, genius." He mocked, the idea becoming his prominent thought. "Why didn't you just travel back in time and stop the zombies from being created in the first place?"

 

The Risen wanted a majority of lives to be saved. Death for majority to save the masses. Right?

 

Blake nervously tapped her thigh, the thought unsettling her. " Maybe we hold off the zombie apocalypse for-- what? Another twenty years? More? I don't know, for all I know, if we did that, you and I could be dead before it happens again." She stopped, the nervous look being replaced with confidence. "But later down the road, people will create the virus and it will repeat all over again.  At least if we're able to get a cure out there for the zombie apocalypse, it could stop another."

 

Murphy shook his head. He'd be dead by then anyways, so that didn't matter to him. If it would have stopped him from going on the road trip to Hell again, he would have gladly taken the option of holding it off.

 

"Wouldn't say that's for the best." He grumbled under his breath, losing track of how much time they had been allowed to eat and talk.

 

The others started to crowd around Blake and him, leaning against the truck or tailgate as Garnett paced by the side of the wall.

 

"We need to split up and look for food and water." He commanded weakly, seeming exhausted from the lack of sleep and pressure of starving and getting eaten constantly.

 

"Oh," Addy piped up from beside Murphy, "-if we can find a two way radio or--um," She shrugged, looking around to see the group's and Blake's attention now directed on her. "-even a satellite dish, I can try and contact that Citizen Z guy."

 

Garnett seemed relieved with the good news, pointing towards her. "That's good. You, Mack, and Blake do that." He nodded towards them, looking up towards Blake who was crouching on the tailgate.

 

"Three as a team?" She spoke, nodding her head at Garnett, a grateful smile across her face.

 

"Three as a team." He confirmed, before planning out their next actions-- seemingly the same as last time from as much as Murphy could remember. "And the rest of us will look for food. Doc, you take Cassandra and 10K."

 

Cassandra didn't seem too fond of that idea, hastily and nervously gazing up towards 10K who stood beside her.

 

"Warren and I will take Murphy. Stay close. Meet back here in an hour." He finished, his tone almost nervous and worried about their wellbeing from splitting up as his arms crossed over his chest.

 

Murphy wasn't sure if it was better to get away from Blake, or keep Blake away from the group. He couldn't do both without killing Blake, and that turned out to be a challenge.

 

"Couldn't be trusted with the others?" Murphy asked, just out of curiosity. Last time, he figured they wanted to keep their cure safe since he couldn't fight for himself. This time, they knew he could fight. The question of trust just seemed prominent.

 

"Not after the Refinery." Warren replied, eyeing him from above as she stood on the truck bed.

 

Seriously? That was the reason why?

 

"Never gonna live that down, am I?" It's not like he wanted to get Hammond killed, but this was the second time Warren and Garnett had addressed it.

 

"No." Most of the group replied simultaneously, Garnett looking over his shoulder down the alleyway before speaking alone.

 

"Alright, let's go."

 

Hopefully this time, Blake could keep Addy from getting kidnapped.

 

----line break----

10K's POV:

 

He wasn't sure how long him, Doc, and Cassandra had been searching the area. Most stores were raided, big ones blocked off from the inside, but Ten Thousand (or 10K as Garnett had called him) assumed it was most likely zombies inside.

 

At least, from the noises.

 

He noticed Cassandra had been gazing around each corner warily, checking for something, but he wasn't sure what. He had been trying to figure out what this mysterious dream girl was so afraid of, but nothing came to mind.

 

He knew it was something, really bad too, he just couldn't place it. His dreams only gave him a bad feeling these past few nights-- no images or nothing. Ten Thousand never liked those dreams.

 

He had been hoping they'd find some food. He was still hungry, given Murphy had eaten most of the Twinkie Ten Thousand had been given. He hadn't eaten in a couple days , but this wasn't the longest he went without food, so he figured he'd be alright.

 

No matter how mad he was at Murphy, there was just something about the odd, zombie bitten man. Besides the snark and jerkiness.

 

"Hey, kid." Doc's voice drew him out of his thoughts, looking up towards the older man who held the satellite dish. "Give me a hand with this, will ya?"

 

It probably wasn't best to make Doc do it all by himself, so Ten Thousand jumped up on the electrical box as quick as he could, going to help the man.

 

"I don't know why we stopped here in Philly." He heard Cassandra say, more frustrated and worried with her question than confused.

 

By his counting, that was the third time she had said that today. He didn't have to look her direction to see the emotions in her voice be subtly conveyed on her face. He was reminded of the feeling again, remembering the bad that he felt with it.

 

"We should've kept going." She stomped her foot, looking around the streets at the crashed cars and lurking dead too far away to pay them mind.

 

Ten Thousand shifted so that he could hold the satellite dish, briefly gazing over his arm to look at Cassandra. He wasn't very good at reading people's emotions. He could make good observations, but their emotions were never his strong suit. Maybe it had something to do with being raised with no folks around to talk and read off of, he wasn't sure, but he knew it would come in handy if he did know how to.

 

The best observation he could make off of Cassandra's behavior was that Philadelphia might had been the reason she was in New York, locked up in a cage by the high school, seemingly fine with accepting death. He knew it wasn't uncommon for people to commit suicide in the apocalypse, but Cassandra looked to be strong willed enough for something really bad to break her to do that.

 

"Going where?" Doc asked her, leaning over Ten Thousand, holding the satellite as he looked down towards her. "We need to find a way to communicate with that Citizen dude."

 

Where do you unhook this? To be fair, Ten Thousand never needed to communicate with others, so getting satellite dishes off of buildings was way out of his zone. He kept looking over it though, holding it up as he crouched beneath Doc, one foot on the box below while the other was propped against the wall to hold his balance.

 

"And I think Addy can do something with this dish." Doc shrugged, going off on a ramble that Ten Thousand was used to, but still fond of.

 

"Who knows," Doc started again, seeming to go on a different topic. "-maybe we'll get lucky and pick up porn." Doc laughed, smiling down towards Ten Thousand with amusement on his face.

 

Porn? He heard about it before from some guys milling around below the tree he was perched in. The way they talked about it, they made it sound great, but Ten Thousand still didn't have a clue of what it actually was. Couldn't be all that bad if Doc liked it too. Right?

 

"Never seen porn." Maybe he'd get an answer with what it was. It sounded like everyone knew what it was, so he might as well too.

 

Doc stopped holding the satellite, backing up as he looked at him, baffled and shocked. "You never seen porn?"

 

By Doc's reaction, it was like he had missed out on getting a deal on a Savage Arms Axis II XP for just bringing in an antler of a buck.

 

"Really? Never?" That was the first time Cassandra didn't sound worried.

 

Was that the wrong thing to say? Should he have known what it was?

 

"Before my time." He tried to come up with the best excuse he could, still trying to process what exactly it was he was missing out on. "Is it good?"

 

It had to be with how highly everyone was amping it up to be.

 

There was a drawn out pause before the two responded, varying in their answers and still leaving him without a clue to what it was.

 

"Yeah!"

 

"Meh."

 

Doc seemed to be dead set on liking it, nodding down towards him, but Cassandra was the opposite, scoffing and shaking her head at Doc's answer as the two met each other's stares.

 

Silence fell over them again, and despite the conversation being pleasant to try and make sense of and listen to, he was glad for the quiet. Him and Doc went back to trying to get the satellite down, paying no mind to anything going on around them, believing that they were safe for the moment.

 

Or, Ten Thousand thought that at some points. He wasn't too convinced on the idea though, letting a moment pass before he looked down towards Cassandra. Or, where Cassandra used to be.

 

His grasp nearly slipped on the satellite, accidently letting it fall into Doc's grasp as he stood up, looking around the area to where Cassandra would have run off to.

 

"What the hell? Is everything alright?" Doc asked, the satellite nearly falling from his grip from the sudden force before Doc caught it, looking over at Ten Thousand worried.

 

He wanted to watch Cassandra. He still wasn't sure if he should trust her-- given the small context of his dream and all, but he told himself not to let her out of his sight, wanting to watch her to figure out her intentions.

 

He didn't have to answer Doc; the older man already shifting to look around just as Ten Thousand was.

 

"Cassandra?" Doc called, not letting go of the satellite as his gaze scanned the open area. Ten Thousand moved some, leaning over the side of the electrical box to look as far as he could down the alleyways-- his thoughts running rampant.

 

She could have been chased by a Z, but he would've heard it…She could've ditched them too. That one seeming the most probable. Cassandra didn't seem too lenient towards this 'mission for humanity' that they were just informed about, so it seemed appropriate for now to be the time that she could slink off without any of the others noticing.

 

Doc shrugged, looking him over with a mixture of curiosity that Ten Thousand hadn't picked up on. "I'm sure she's fine. Probably went back to the group early to tell 'em we might not meet the hour mark." Doc offered before sighing, seeing as how the comment hadn't made Ten Thousand move any closer to help.

 

"How about this? We get this satellite dish down and to the group, and if she's not back there, we'll go look for her."

 

Should they look for somebody who might have run away on purpose? What if she didn't though?

 

Ten Thousand sighed, nodding his head in agreement. He had observed her enough to know she was a good survivor. If she had run away from a zombie, she'd find a way out, and if she just went back to the group, Ten Thousand knew he shouldn't really worry.

 

He tried to make quick work of dismantling it with Doc, the two of them getting it down after a few moments of struggling as Doc opted to carry it. Doc took to talking again, but Ten Thousand spaced out, going over possible situations with the four mysterious members that were traveling in the group that he had dreamed about.

 

He wasn't sure how long he was caught in his thoughts before he heard Doc's gasp of surprise, quickly bringing his rifle to aim at the zombie currently attacking Doc.

 

The older man dropped the satellite dish, struggling in a spiral as it looked like him and the zombie were dancing with one another. Despite finding the movement amusing, the situation wasn't, and with a quick line of fire, Doc was able to stand still enough for him to get a clear shot.

 

The zombie fell to the ground, Doc stumbling on top of it as Ten Thousand made his way over to Doc's side to make sure he was okay and not bitten.

 

"One thousand seventy-six." He mumbled under his breath, finding that Doc was free of bites despite panting heavily with the dying fear and adrenaline.

 

"Nice shot." Doc complimented, grabbing ahold the side of his head. "Little too close to my head though." He said, picking at his ear as if there was still a ringing.

 

Probably not best to fire that close. Ten Thousand took the blame for the after effects on that one this time.

 

Doc went to lean down to check the zombie over, but stopped short when he turned the zombie to face him.

 

"Well look at this." Doc commented, causing Ten Thousand to look down towards the zombie.

 

Despite the fresh bullet wound in the zombie's head, there was nothing else there to say that the thing was dead. The skin tone was a human flesh color, more pale and dry-- the ribs were jutted out of the chest, nearly nothing but bones showing like they had been starving.

 

"Unless you count human kills, you might have to redact that one." Doc pointed out, gazing up towards Ten Thousand in his crouched position next to the dead corpse of a human.

 

Darn. Back to 1,075 again.

 

Ten Thousand shrugged, willing away the thoughts of killing another human, chalking it up to be self-defense, making thinking about it a lot easier. He went to pick up the satellite as Doc spoke.

 

"Wonder why a human decided to attack like that?" Doc wondered aloud. "Looks like they were starving though…" Ten Thousand looked back to see Doc shiver. "Hope they weren't thinking about trying to get a bite of human flesh."

 

Cannibals?

 

His grip tightened around the skinnier end of the pole of the satellite.

 

Why did that sound so familiar?

 

He never came across a cannibal before-- not that he knew of, at least-- but he never wanted to either. The idea was spine-chilling, but so familiar for whatever reason.

 

He loosened his grip as Doc took the satellite from his hands, saying that Ten Thousand was better shooting the zombies while they walked.

 

Once with his rifle back in his hand, him and Doc stared back at the dead person lying on the ground, body fallen limply across the road.

 

Doc shivered again, taking in a deep breath as he spoke.

 

"God, I can't deal with cannibals today."

 

---line break----- 

Blake's POV:

 

They had walked around for some time, picking through the stores and finding the shelves picked clean. Blake supposed that would be the case though. People didn't just decide to die during Black Summer. Of course they would've cleaned the shelves bare.

 

Regardless, they continued on, jogging over to a cop car that had a dent, stationed on the road as if it had been in a hurry to stop or run something over.

 

Mack and Addy were the first to walk up towards it, Blake deciding to take the rear to make sure the couple was safe. From the back, she could see their relief to finding the cop car, Mack sighing as Addy spoke.

 

"I want that radio."

 

Mack walked beside her, gazing into the window as Blake came behind the couple. "Yeah, what about Officer Zombie?" Mack asked, watching the corpse press its rotting face against the window.

 

Blake tilted her head towards the zombie cop, tapping the hood of the police car as she leaned up against it, warily checking her surroundings for any more of the wondering dead. "Let it out, pike it, kill it, and get on with our day?" Blake offered, causing Addy to chuckle as Mack rolled his eyes fondly.

 

"Doubt it's gonna be easy, Blake." Addy reprimanded her, contemplating what plan would actually be set in motion. " It's gotta be fun. Um..." She sighed turning towards Mack as Blake readied her axe, getting off from leaning on the hood of the car.

 

"Do you remember that time in Peekskill?" Addy asked excitedly, causing Mack to quickly check behind her and towards Blake, the slightest of nervousness and embarrassment lining his face as he lowered his voice towards Addy.

 

He laughed as he leaned in closer to Addy, causing Blake to roll her eyes.

 

"Yeah, that's perfect." He glanced towards Blake one more time to make sure she wasn't listening, and respectfully (but knowing full well that it was stupid) she turned away. "Top or bottom?" He asked.

 

"Top." She chirped sweetly towards her boyfriend, their faces merely inches apart.

 

Mack quickly hoisted Addy up on top of the car, the two smiling at one another as Blake turned around to face them, crossing her arms as she stared at them fondly.

 

And to think where the two ended up in the future. Life just wasn't fair.

 

She handed him her Z-Whacker, pulling herself up and walking on the roof to the driver's side door. Mack followed as he handed her back her Z-Whacker, pounding on the window to draw Officer Zombie's attention from Blake to Mack.

 

"Hey, you. Yeah." He continued to antagonize, moving his hand down to the handle to open up the door. Knowing Addy had it covered when her and Mack worked together, she knew she shouldn't be worried, but given the speech she just gave to Murphy, she decided to follow through with it.

 

She tightened her grip on her axe, moving to get a little ways behind Mack just in case another zombie incident like Doc's occurred again.

 

He quickly opened the door, the zombie nearly falling out to get Mack, but Addy was quick to pike the zombie right through the skull, the zombie thudding to the ground as Mack stared at it with pride.

 

"Oh, baby." He lean against the open door, staring up at Addy as she stared down at him. "You know if I ever need mercy, I-- I really hope it's you." He emphasized, causing Blake to nervously twitch behind.

 

At least his wish came true…At least from what Blake knew, she thinks Addy was the one to give him mercy. She wouldn't let either happen this time though. She swore that she would let Addy and Mack live a happily ever after together, no matter the struggle.

 

Without knowing the real entirety of the statement, Addy chuckled, smiling at him. She looked over towards Blake, a wide smile across her face as she leaned down on the roof, close enough so she could give Mack a kiss.

 

Despite knowing the girl loved Mack, she knew Addy just did that to get a reaction off of Blake, and it worked.

The two reminded her of when Blake and Austin first started to see each other-- just another young couple enjoying life. Except this couple couldn't really enjoy life without worrying about zombies. Thus, bringing her back to remembering Brett. The one person who kept her sane throughout the apocalypse even though he wasn't too sane himself. She pushed the memories aside, rolling her eyes playfully at the young couple as they continued on with their extremely long kiss.

 

"Alright, cut it out Love Bugs. We don't have all day." She lightheartedly chastised as Mack reluctantly pulled away and Addy started to make her way down off the hood.

 

"Alright, mom." Addy replied playfully back with all the snark and sass you would get from a teenager.

 

Blake drew back for a moment, watching the couple as a sad smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She tried to stay as far away from close relationships with the group as possible. She wasn't suppose to be a part of their lives at all, and with the Risen's orders, she wasn't even suppose to be their friend.

 

The fact Addy had called her mom, albeit playfully, caused Blake to cringe at her own internal conflict. She wasn't suppose to make them care about her. She was only suppose to be a background character amongst the main cast, but she hung out with them too much (cared about them too much) causing the Risen's orders not to be followed through with.

 

Dammit. She had to stop that. She already built up different types of relationships with Addy, Mack, Warren, Garnett, and Doc, and was even staring to form one with Cassandra and 10K (as the boy liked to refer to himself as by what she was told).

 

Blake had to get better at that. She moved away from the couple, keeping her distance and the shift was luckily not spotted by the two.

 

"Come on." Addy said, making her way into the cop car. "I want to see if that radio works."

 

Mack shrugged off the backpack, smiling over towards Blake, then looking behind her and to the alleyways. "Alright, hurry up. I'll pike some locals." He said, wandering over toward her and Blake just realized how messed up that sentence sounded.

 

She raised an eyebrow at his wording, causing the younger man to smirk in reply. "Wanna help, or are you going to stay here?" He asked, getting his .22 out and making sure the magazine had enough ammo.

 

Addy had lived in the past life for a longer period of time than Mack had, but Murphy hadn't given any signs that Mack died soon, but then again, that knowledge didn't really apply.

 

She had saw Murphy throw Addy a worried glance before splitting up with Warren and Garnett, so that left her where she was in deciding. "I'll stay here to make sure she's okay." She paused for a moment, watching as he nodded heading down towards the alleyways.

 

"Stay safe." She called loud enough for him to hear. He gave a thumbs up in reply, turning a corner and going out of her sights. God please say he stays safe and she didn't just make another bad decision. If Mack died, Blake would go back in time. Two people dead in a span of nearly three days-- yeah, time travel would be her best bet.

 

She barely had time to look over towards Addy before the girl came shooting out of the truck, swearing with Jesus's full name and out of breath.

 

"You okay?" Rules be damned, she was going to make sure this group was alright even if it built up relationships.

 

"Yeah…yeah." Addy breathed out, crouched over with her eyes closed from the fright. She looked over to Blake, trying to give a weak smile. "You got anything I could-- um, I could use?" She stuttered, still reeling in fear from what Blake supposed was a zombie in the backseat.

 

"Let me check, hun." Rummaging through her backpack, pushing the notes and box and folder beside, she grabbed a knife that she had nestled in a pocket on the inside.

 

"Here."  She handed the knife to Addy, monitoring the girl's breath just to make sure she didn't go into a panic attack. "You sure you're good?" Blake asked, just to clarify.

 

Addy refused to look her in the eye at first, grabbing the knife and nodding her head. "Yeah, I'm good." She responded, picking up her head, calming her breathing as she finally looked up at Blake.

 

Blake wasn't convinced, but she knew Addy to be hard-headed and stubborn, so she let it slide with the raise of a disbelieving eyebrow that she knew Addy picked up. She backed up to let the redhead pike the zombie, leaving a distance to somewhat follow her rules of not building up strong relationships with people she wasn't even suppose to know.

 

She could hear the gruesome pikes that Addy delivered to the Z, as Addy got out after a moment, handing her knife back.

 

Baffled, she stared at it for a moment. "No, it's alright." She denied the offer of taking it back. "You can keep it."

 

Addy smiled towards her, sliding the knife into her pocket as she went back into the car to hopefully get the radio to work to contact Simon.

 

The static started in the car with Addy after a moment, but that wasn't the only thing that drew Blake's attention. Shuffling in the alleyways caught her attention, moving over some to see what was happening. She couldn’t see anything, but she knew something was there, and that something was most probably a zombie.

 

"Mayday. Mayday. Calling anybody on this frequency." Addy started in hopes to get contact back.

 

The noise in the alleyway only got louder, drawing Blake curiosity as Addy repeated her message again. She swiftly moved over to the car, leaning against the door like Mack had, but looking inside rather than up.

 

"Hey." She tapped the window to draw Addy's attention. "I heard something in the alleyway. I'll be right back. Okay?"

 

Addy nodded, shifting her focus to where Blake pointed. "Don't go too far." Addy warned, taking a warning Blake had used before when she had first met Addy and feared the girl could end up dead at any moment.

 

Blake rolled her eyes, pushing herself off of the car and grabbing her axe. "You too." She replied back, quietly but quickly making her way down the alleyway.

 

The noise seemed to vanish, leaving only overturned dumpsters, trashcans, and littered trash down the alleyway. The doors were all closed and the rusted fire escapes were pulled up, leaving no way for a human to have pulled themselves up without some assistance.

 

Unless, of course, the person pulled the fire escape up. Blake was sure she would have heard the screeching rather than banging though, so she didn't think too much on that theory.

 

She traveled a little farther down, but once finding she was wasting her time, she started to make her way back, staring at the looming, grey clouds above seemingly pointing towards either a cloudy day, or a rainy one. Too bad they didn't have a weatherman anymore.

 

Most of them got eaten on day one.

 

Blake got back the same time Mack had, seeing the young man rush up to the car in a panic yelling Addy's name.

 

Her heart dropped leaving a pit in her stomach, fear settling in. Oh God, what happened?

 

She rushed over towards Mack, him frantically panicking as he rushed over towards her. "Where is she?! What happened?" He nearly yelled at her.

 

"I-- I don't know." She stumbled at a loss for words. Why the hell couldn't she get this time travel shit, right?

 

He let go of her shoulders, rushing back over towards the car as he looked through it for any signs of her, mumbling loudly to himself all the while. Blake frantically looked around, trying to find something that could point her in the direction Addy could have gone.

 

Something took her. Addy didn't just leave like that unless a pack of zombies caught up to her.

 

She saw the zombie behind Mack nearly a second too late, yelling a warning towards him. "Mack! Behind you."

 

He turned around swiftly, slashing the Z-Whacker across the zombie's face violently, causing the body to crash towards the ground.

 

She knew it wasn't a good idea to approach him at the moment, but she got as close as she could, trying to calm him so that they could think logically. "Mack, you need to calm down. We'll find her, alright. We just can't go about this--"

 

She was cut off as he looked behind her, losing all interest in what she was saying.

 

"Addy?" He asked, causing Blake to turn around to see a redhead zombie limping bent down towards them. The zombie looked familiar to Addy, similar clothes and all, causing Blake's breath to hitch in fear as Mack made his way over to presumably Addy.

 

If it was either Addy or Mack, she was going to go back in time.

 

He used the Z-Whacker to hold the zombie back, tears already welling up on his fearful face as he frantically repeated Addy's name towards the zombie. The Z picked up its head, showing itself not to be Addy, causing relief to settle in Blake, but another fear to replace it.

 

"You're not Addy." Mack nearly growled, harshly swinging the Z-Whacker at the zombie's head, causing it to fly to the side and down towards the ground. Mack didn't stop there though, swinging repeatedly down towards the zombie's head, over and over again, taking out his anger and worry.

 

"Where is she?" He repeated through labored breaths between hitting the zombie.

 

"Mack..." Blake tried, leveling her voice for him. "Mack." She tried a little louder, finally getting the younger man's attention. "It's dead." She pointed out, taking notice of the zombie's splattered head and brains now creating an abstract image on the road.

 

He shook his head at her, nearly giving himself whiplash as he turned around.

 

"Addy!" He screamed her name, causing Blake to fear that they wouldn't just be worrying about Addy's life at the moment.

 

"Mack, stop." She was forceful now, like she was lecturing Jen. She grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to stop his hyperventilating over Addy. "Addy's strong. We'll find her, alright. I won't let anything happen to her."

 

The last sentence lost him, pushing her away as his grip tightened around the Z-Whacker. "She's not here now, and you were supposed to be with her." He accused, pointing the weapon at her in emphasis rather than a warning.

 

"I know." I shouldn't have left her.

 

He went back to hyperventilating, bringing his arms over his head to subside it. It wasn't a second after that a voice spoke behind them, startling Blake out of her skin as Mack ran over to it.

 

"Delta-Xray-Delta. Delta-Xray-Delta, come in."  

 

Simon.

 

Mack was quick to grab the walkie, speaking rapidly as Blake stood outside the car beside him.

 

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We're here. We're here." He repeated, sparing Blake a second's worth of a glance as he waited for an answer. "Delta-X whatever, we copy."

 

He shifted nervously as the second seemed to be drawn out into minutes with the tense and panic setting.

 

"Gotcha, Delta-Xray." Simon finally replied. "Who am I speaking to?"  He asked, but Mack wasn't worried about that.

 

"Mack Thompson." He answered without missing a beat, but his voice conveyed almost a disbelieving tone to it. "But that doesn't matter right now. There was a woman here. Did you talk to her?" He asked, speaking rapidly.

 

She didn't dare tell him to slow down.

 

"Roger that. I made contact with someone named…Addy." There was almost a confidence in his voice as he spoke her name.

 

Mack didn't hear it though, just glad that they were getting somewhere and that Addy had been here and talked to Simon. "Yeah, Addy!" He nearly yelled again. "Addy, yeah. Yeah, you talked to her, okay. Is she okay? Did she…did she tell you where she was going?"

 

Addy usually wouldn't go anywhere without a good reason. Especially in those few moments Blake had been away.

 

"…Um-- that's a negative on her location. We really only talked for a second before she cut off. Something happened." 

 

Blake leaned in, grabbing the walkie out of Mack's hand as he started to freak out.

 

"Goddamn Zs." He hit the dashboard of the car.

 

"What happened? How did she cut off?" Blake asked, panicked although only slightly less than Mack knowing she had a way to redo this scenario.

 

"No, not zombies. There were voices. Human ones and the sounds of someone…choking. Maybe Addy's." Simon informed, causing Blake to fall back out of the car and back onto her feet, letting go of the walkie.

 

The word of voices snapped Mack back to reality and what Simon was saying. "Humans?" He asked.

 

"Roger that."

 

"Goddamn humans?" If it weren't for the situation, the pause and slowly calming tone of Mack's might have caused Blake to laugh, but it didn't.

 

"What about the pac--um, Murphy?" Simon emphasized, actually using Murphy's name instead, shocking Blake. Guess Simon listened to what he said.

 

"Weasel breath? He's fine, stealing food from us. He was alive as hour ago, at least." The annoyed shift in his tone was clear when broaching the subject of Murphy instead of Addy's disappearance, and Blake found the switch to be accurate.

 

"Okay. Listen-- don't leave-- I gotta-"

 

"Puppies and Kittens." Blake whispered, watching some of the dead start make their way over.

 

Mack completely ignored what Simon said, getting out of the car with Addy's Z-Whacker. "Got to run." Mack had the decency to inform, getting out the car and dragging Blake behind him as they ran away from the zombies, ignoring Simon's calls to come back.

 

Sorry.

 

They got a few meters away before Mack turned back around, heading back towards the cop car.

 

"Wait, Mack!" Where the hell was he going?

 

He swung the Z-Whacker twice, mercying two of the zombies and grabbing the camera, heading back towards her as they ran to the group.

 

She looked down to the camera in his hands, still seeing that it had been recording ever since Addy had left it there. Clever.

 

At least now they'd know what Murphy refused to tell her.

 

Notes:

I haven't seen many people do this (or any at all) but I would IF I had any good ideas. I don't think I've seen a fanfiction that focuses on 10K before meeting the group. People have estimated when his father died, but I always thought it would be a cool idea to see/read what him and his Pa had been through.

I can't come up with anything good, but if writers on here are reading this, I'd love to read your interpretation of this idea.

Also, I have a math test tomorrow over Quadratic Functions...yay... :(
Wish me luck.

Coming Soon:
Philly Feast Remake (Part Two)

Chapter 13: Philly Feast Remake (Part Two)

Summary:

Overview: Continuation of the previous chapter…

Notes:

Beginning notes:
Has anyone seen that game that Z-Nation/SYFY came out with? The "Find Murphy" one. I looked it up on YouTube since I don't think you can play it anymore (from what I've seen) but it's actually pretty good considering how I thought it would turn out. One part I found funny was:

*You get inside, but a zombie attacks from behind. Addy swings the Z-Whacker, killing the Zombie.*
Doc: Hey! I think you just killed Bill Nye.
*10K turns to Doc, confused. Doc notices and clarifies.*
Doc: The Science Guy.

You'll have to check it out because explaining it doesn't do much justice!

Blake's POV:

 

Blake paced between the trucks, rekindling her old habit of chewing on her fingernails. She was worried about Addy, fearful over what was about to happen with Cassandra, and pissed with Murphy.

 

Speaking of the dictator, he wasn't making himself any higher on her liking list. Rather, Mr. Murphy managed to get himself lower. Dammit, not Mr. Murphy. She repeated the name in her head, still getting used to calling him Murphy now. She hated him with all of her guts and life, but she needed a semblance of trust with him to get what she wanted and needed, so she decided to call him by what he wanted.

 

They had gotten back a few minutes after they assumed Addy had disappeared. Mack barely managed to slow down, worried for Addy's well-being and anxious to see what was recorded. Blake had managed to be a little slower, catching Murphy's eye roll and groan seeing that Addy wasn't with them.

 

That was when she knew the bastard knew this was going to happen.

 

She had scoffed towards him as Mack reiterated what had happened with Garnett and Warren. After that, they had went over the footage, seeing the man Travis had been traveling with taser Addy and carry her body out with another guy. They had been relieved to know Addy was still alive, but besides Murphy, none of them knew what was happening to her.

 

Of course, Mack, Warren, and Garnett's suspicion immediately turned to Cassandra, seeing as how they blindly believed Travis had been the girl's friend. That was where they were now-- Mack glaring, filled with anger as he waited for Cassandra to come back, as Warren and Garnett did so as well, not nearly as fuming as Mack, but angry all the same.

 

Blake wanted to tell them what she had saw with Travis and Cassandra, but she wasn't sure what effect that would have. Cassandra told her not to tell, but Cassandra also hadn't held up on the deal of making sure that secret of hers didn't hurt any of the group. She wasn't sure the consequences of what her actions of telling may entitle, so subtly, she tried to hint that Cassandra may not be the bad guy.

 

"How do we know those guys knew Cassandra?" This was the second time she had given them a hint in these past few minutes, but she could tell Mack was getting fed up with it.

 

"It doesn't matter. She knew them. That guy knew her. That's enough." Mack bit out, refusing to take his glaring eyes away from where they assumed Doc, 10K, and Cassandra would come back from.

 

"She said he wasn't her friend-" Despite trying to start again, her tactic was only pissing the few group members off.

 

"Are you seriously backing her right now? We know she's hiding something from us, so why do you keep making excuses?" He turned towards her, the fury in his eyes only burning stronger along with a sense of astonished curiosity.

 

"I'm just saying we can't give her hell right away. We have to have all our facts down."

 

Warren's curious, prying eyes turned to her as she raised an eyebrow, but Blake refused to shift out of discomfort. She knew Warren was questioning her change in behavior, and Blake knew her behavior had changed ever since Murphy entered the camp. She couldn't help it, and she thought she had been hiding it fairly decently, but Warren was smart-- easily picking up on it.

 

Mack shook his head in disbelief, reeling over the fact, afraid of losing Addy. Blake didn't blame his anger, knowing how hard it was to think you lost someone forever that you loved, but she wished he'd have a little more common sense when it came to deciding what to do to get his girlfriend back.

 

Blake moved her fingers back to her sides, nervously twitching them together rather than biting them, looking back over her shoulder to Murphy. She could see the look in his eyes, thinking something over, and she knew it was probably something along the lines of how this would go.

 

She started to move over towards him, hoping to get more information on where Addy was taken, or finally get an answer on who Cassandra was, but she was stopped short as she heard 10K and Doc's voices. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen though.

 

"Wait, so this Rocky dude loses the fight?" 10K asked, seemingly confused over the movie Doc was trying to explain as he carried his rifle in one hand, and a jug of water in the other. For whatever reason, Doc had been talking to 10K about movies, but the younger man didn't seem to have any idea to what they were, so during small talks, Doc usually explained something like these.

 

Rocky just happened to be the second time in these past few days.

 

"Yeah." Doc confirmed, caught up in explaining, missing Mack's glowering. "Yeah, but see in losing, he wins. It's very zen."

 

Despite the motivation that was suppose to give, the boy still didn't get it.

 

"I'd like to see Rocky fight a Z." 10K said, completely going off topic on what Doc was trying to explain. "If he loses, he gets eaten."

 

10K smiled towards Doc as the older man laughed. The energy the two had calmed Blake a little, remembering reading in the Risen's notes that Doc and 10K had been close, but that calmness the two brought was lost as Cassandra started to jog up behind them.

 

She seemed out of breath, worried even, as she jogged in front of the two men.

 

"Hey. Is everything okay?" Doc asked, moving so she could get between him and 10K. Blake moved to hold Mack back, hoping the man wouldn't push past her in anger to get to Cassandra.

 

"Fine." Was Cassandra's short reply back, seeming disconnected from caring to answer the hippie.

 

"See, kid. Told ya there was nothing to worry about."  Doc shrugged as much as he could, gazing over to 10K whose face had gone slightly red in embarrassment, looking down towards Cassandra as she rolled her eyes at him, seemingly annoyed.

 

Blake let her hand hover over Mack's chest, keeping him in place as he glared at Cassandra. Warren's knowing gaze lingering on the girl as she stopped in front of them, Garnett behind as back-up waiting for the catastrophe to take place.

 

Cassandra's gaze turned towards Mack's hand on his .22, and then Warren, Garnett and her. Confusion settled over Doc and 10K-- Murphy seeming to be the only one who wasn't stressed, leaning against the driver's door, tilting his head back as he waited for what happened next.

 

Bastard.

 

Though, she wasn't sure how much he could prevent even if he did know.

 

"What's wrong? Where's Addy?" Worry filled Doc's voice as he set the satellite dish down, looking around the group.

 

"Missing." Mack pushed down Blake's hand, eyes still narrowed on Cassandra as she turned back to him. She already knew they know.

 

Fear settled within Cassandra's eyes, swiftly gazing over to Blake, looking as if she was betrayed. Cassandra didn't speak out on it though.

 

"Is she…?" Doc couldn't even finish the sentence, voice low as his undivided attention remained on Mack.

 

"No." The light, carefree tone in his voice was worrisome to Blake, Mack's eyes never leaving Cassandra. "Taken alive." He spoke, pushing past Blake as he made his way closer to Cassandra, Warren stepping in front of Blake, disturbed  (about what Blake presumed) with what looked like Blake switching sides.

 

"What?" The confusion to how or why was clear in Doc's voice as he stared at Mack.

 

"By humans." Mack confirmed, his voice still that carefree with an underlying smite in it, causing Cassandra to back up against the truck, knowing now he knew she had something to do with it.

 

"Who?" Doc asked even though, even in his voice, he knew they couldn't have known. Or shouldn’t have known. Exempting some situations.

 

Cassandra's breath hitched as Warren pushed Blake behind her, blocking Cassandra off from one side as Garnett took the other, Mack standing in the front, holding an iPad they had found with a 20% battery powered off some time ago.

 

"We thought you'd might know." Warren started, suggestive in her tone as she stared at Cassandra.

 

"Me?" Cassandra voice was undeniably easy to tell that she was lying, her fear ruling out her good sense to fix what she had been trying to hide from them. "Why would I know?" That defensiveness she usually had was lost, full worry taking over.

 

Her breathing came out jagged as she looked around for an escape before Mack shoved the iPad in her face, showing her the disturbing footage of Addy being dragged out of the car. Just seeing it again made Blake's stomach drop.

 

"You recognize these guys?" Mack asked even though it didn't sound like he was asking. He just wanted confirmation to what he already knew.

 

"No. Why would I?" The lies were clear now, and that was only setting Mack and the others off farther.

 

"Creep on the left was one of those two bikers back in Jersey." Warren displayed the evidence, her tone one that Blake always feared. "With your friend Travis."

 

The last part almost made Blake shout as her fists curled, trying to push past Warren and Mack, but the two stood their ground, as Cassandra nearly pleaded back towards them.

 

"I told you, I didn't know that guy, and I don't know them either." She hadn't even been able to get the full sentence out before Mack grabbed her throat, pushing the .22 to the side of her head.

 

Blake's natural instinct was to react, knowing better to the situation, as she grabbed Mack's hand, pushing past Warren trying to move the gun off of Cassandra's head. Her efforts were useless though as Warren pulled her off-- Mack shoving her hand off the barrel with pure disbelief written on his face.

 

Warren nearly pushed Blake to the ground, getting her away from Mack and Cassandra as the Lieutenant stared at her, more shock than curiosity now lining her face to the woman she had thought she could trust.

 

"Mack, stop!" She couldn't let Cassandra die now. Not after all this. It could have been Mack, Addy, and now Cassandra.

 

Warren walked quickly back to her spot to keep Cassandra in place, as Murphy (surprisingly) held Blake back. She shoved him, glaring towards him.

 

"What the hell?" She bit out in a whisper towards him, but Murphy paid no attention to her, looking over towards Mack with that knowing look in his eyes.

 

"You are gonna start telling me the truth right now or I am going to start blowing holes--" The terrifying side of Mack was interrupted as Garnett tried to push him off, less forceful than Blake had been, but at least civic minded enough to not threaten to kill like how Mack was going off the rails.

 

"Mack."

 

The younger man didn't stop though. "…in you until you do."

 

"Mack." Garnett tried again, getting the man to release his grip on Cassandra, but never the piercing glare.

 

"Do you understand me?" Mack asked, the psychotic look terrifying Blake.

 

Garnett was able to get Mack off, the younger man only barely holding on to Cassandra's throat as he repeated Mack's name, trying to get him to calm down and think logically.

 

"Put the gun away." He tried to keep his voice level, speaking calm and lowly. "Put the gun away." He repeated until Mack was off of Cassandra, moving back from his violent tactic of investigating as Garnett went to take over.

 

"You're gonna tell us everything you know about these guys right now." Garnett's tone was gentle, but commanding, refrencing he wouldn't take a bullshit response until Warren pulled out her own gun, pointing it towards the girl's head.

 

"Or I'll shoot you." Warren threatened, less violent, but all the more intimidating than Mack.

 

Goddammit, why?! Could she not get them all on the same page?!

 

Garnett wasn't impressed with Warren's move, an incredulous look across his face that was possibly the definition of the look that conveyed "Really?"

 

Blake could see the shift on Cassandra's face. She could see the fear flood back, filling her eyes as whatever she tried to hide behind crumbled. Everything collapsing down as the girl started to hyperventilate.

 

"I can't go back!" She tried to push free from Garnett, but Mack ran back towards her, grabbing Cassandra's head and pushing her back against the truck.

 

"Back where?" He pleaded desperately, back in that manic mode over losing Addy. "Where? Where? Where is she?! Where is she?" Mack yelled as Cassandra cried out, that wall she had built up around them falling as her fear shone through more clear than Blake had ever imagined.

 

Blake was so caught up in trying to calm down Mack, trying to push past the barricade Warren was providing, that she was scared out of her thoughts as a zombie came rounding the corner at the commotion. The Z headed straight towards Murphy, and as the dictator tried to get his gun out of his holster quick enough from the snarling Z, 10K had already raised his rifle-- shooting seconds before Murphy's bullet fired into the wall behind.

 

The commotion allowed Cassandra to escape, the girl running away as Mack, Warren, and Garnett followed her.

 

"Dammit." Why? Why couldn't she have just told them? That had to be the right thing to do.

 

With a seconds worth of hesitation, she looked behind her towards Murphy, watching as the man sighed, not paying attention as the four ran off, and instead holstering his gun like everything was good and well. God, did he not listen to anything she said?

 

"Stay here." She warned towards him, causing him to scoff dramatically in annoyance like he was placed as the victim. Blake didn't spare any of the three men another glance though, already running after the four that were nearly out of her sight.

 

She couldn't catch up to them, remaining feet behind them and losing Warren, Garnett and Mack as they turned a corner opposite of Cassandra, seemingly trying to cut her off. Blake didn't follow them though, heading the way Cassandra did as the girl headed into a building and down a flight of stairs.

 

Cassandra heard her footsteps as Blake stood in the doorway, panicking as she turned around.

 

"You lied to me! You promised you wouldn't tell." The pleading that had been nearly begging with Warren was gone, a sense of betrayal and hurt mixed within the showing fear.

 

"I didn't tell them." She tried to keep her voice balanced in return, holding her hands up to try and show the girl she meant now harm. Cassandra still backed up in fear, getting trapped by Warren coming from the other side as she pushed the girl against the wall.

 

"Enough!" Warren yelled, that anger she kept concealed back at the trucks finally making an appearance.

 

Garnett was next, the calm demeanor he tried to have during the investigation being lost the second Cassandra had tried to run away from them.

 

"Alright, Cassandra! No more bullshit." He stood opposite to Warren as Blake rushed down the stairs, following behind the two leaders, her worry spiking higher. "Tell us what you know. Now!"

 

The chasing, the distressing reality that Addy could be getting tortured and a person in the group knew, all of it was playing on the three members of Operation Bitemarks nerves as they stood around Cassandra, and Blake couldn't think of a way of holding them back without causing further alarm and misconception.

 

"Alright. I know them." She finally broke, that heart-breaking face she had given Blake before becoming prominent again.

 

Cassandra knew the cannibals. If Murphy told her that before, it would have helped a lot sooner!

 

She took a deep breath, still reeling in fear over what was about to come before she spoke again. "They're part of a group of survivors. A family of sorts."

 

Blake didn't like the way she paused before saying the last sentence. Cannibals and family--two words that did not go together and usually implied cults.

 

"But more like a cult actually."

 

Exactly. Cassandra's confirmation caused Mack to twitch nervously from behind, going from foot to foot as the four of them hung on to ever word Cassandra spoke with distraught and horror.

 

"Led by a man named Tobias Campbell. I can't go back there." She pleaded again, shaking her head as she looked between the four that blocked her in. "I won't go back."

 

The fear of Cassandra's only caused Mack's to spike higher, yelling at her from behind Garnett. "You'll do whatever the hell we need you to do to get Addy back!"

 

Nobody tried to stop Mack from yelling, and Blake knew she couldn't tempt it, already on thin ice. Instead, Cassandra argued back, confirming what Murphy had told her about Travis and the horrors that followed. "You don't know these people. They're dangerous." She cried as Warren took a menacing step towards the girl.

 

"So are we."

 

Cassandra moved to look up at Warren, shaking slightly with each breath she took. "Not like they are. Tobias and the others are worse than Zs." She cried, nearly yelling as she tried to get her point across. "I thought I'd gotten away from them, " Cassandra started to hyperventilate again. "But then Travis spotted me with you."

 

It was like that fuming rage had left Mack when he saw how distraught Cassandra was. His voice turning, not gentler, but more curious and calm contrasting drastically from before.

 

"Why are you so afraid of them?" But by the end, his voice quivered in fear, his mind possibly going over too many horrendous possibilities that Addy could be put through.

 

"You don't get it." She argued, her voice turning hard as she looked between them, her gaze landing on Blake for a second longer than the others. "You don't pick who you survive with. At first, I thought I was lucky. They started out like everybody else."

 

She could barely get the words out, her eyes distant like her mind was traveling through dark memories she tried to bury. "Tobias was smart. He was strong. He saved us." She forced the words out. "But then Black Summer came, and everything went to hell. Somewhere along the way he lost his mind, and…" She started to cry, tears prickling in her eyes as her voice cracked, becoming even more forced. "-and we lost our souls. And I'm not going back there!"

 

Blake tried to keep from hyperventilating, knowing that cannibals played into this. That everything Cassandra was referencing was cannibals. That she-- the girl, a member of Operation Bitemark-- was a cannibal herself. Every time Blake replayed the conversation, hearing Cassandra beg her not to tell when the girl could have gotten killed, was to keep the group from knowing that she had killed and eaten people.

 

"What are they going to do to Addy?" Mack asked, no quiver this time, but not as harsh as before.

 

Blake couldn't help but curl her fists in fear as Cassandra paused taking in a shaky breath. What were they doing with Addy? She didn't die this early-- not in the past life, but time travel changed all that.

 

Blake couldn't help but panic-- imagining the horrendous possibility that Addy was killed, or being eaten right now, or being used by the cannibals as some sick sense of bait; for zombies or for…humans.

 

Cassandra brought her hands back to her head, her breathing slightly less of hyperventilating, but erratic enough to make Blake worry for both Addy and Cassandra's well-being. Cassandra shook her head, trying to properly say what she needed to.

 

"Tobias has this weird control over people. He can make you do terrible things."

 

Oh God. What were the cannibals using Addy for?  The worst possibilities flashed through Blake's mind.

 

"What do you mean?" Warren got closer to Cassandra, still with her hands on her hips. "Rape?" She could tell, just by looking at Warren's face, that the worst possibilities were also playing through her mind.

 

But God she hoped not. Rape is a horrendous thing on its own but mixing cannibals into that only makes it so much worse.

 

"No," Cassandra shook her head, her voice calmer but shaky. "He'll use her as bait."

 

Blake hated the sound of that. If it entitled what she pictured 'bait' with a living human being to be like.

 

Garnett spoke, staring at Cassandra, his hand still holding his gun, but it was now pointed towards the ground. "Bait? What, do they rob people?"

 

Yeah, rob them of their flesh, of their lives, and faith that there was any good left in humanity.

 

"Not just rob." Cassandra tried to explain, slowly making her way towards opening up, Blake supposing it was fear holding her back, but Warren couldn't handle much more of the slow pace; especially while Addy was with the cannibals that Cassandra was trying to explain.

 

"Murder them?!" Warren's voice rose, the fear but also demanding tone in her voice causing Cassandra's to raise as well.

 

"No! Not rape. Not murder." She looked around at them, a clear demonstration of fear written across her face. "They don't just kill their victims! It's worse." Her voice cracked in fear as she started to cry, hands holding her head once again.

 

"What do they do?" Mack questioned, alarm raising with his voice.

 

Cassandra continued to cry, unable to even get out a sentence as she looked up at him, tear tracks running down her face. A mixture of terror and guilt in her eyes that only scared Mack and the others more.

 

"What do they do?!" He yelled, lunging forward towards Cassandra as she backed up against the wall. Knowing Mack would probably threaten Cassandra with a gun again, Blake grabbed Mack by the back of his shirt, trying to hold him back as Garnett put his arm out in front, blocking Mack from moving forward.

 

Cassandra took a deep, shaky breath, her body trembling as her voice spoke in a whisper.

 

"They eat them."

 

-----line break-----

 

Murphy's POV:

 

Murphy couldn't say he was shocked, he really wasn’t. Not with Addy getting kidnapped again or Blake's inability to prevent it. His false belief, thinking that having an extra person to watch Addy and thinking that it might revert this whole cannibal ordeal showed to him that he was gravely mistaken.

 

Blake hadn't been able to prevent shit, and Murphy knew better than to trust her any longer than he even tried to.

 

Doc was leaning against the truck, caught in his own worry and anxiety, not speaking as much as he usually did. 10K was near Doc, eyes scanning the area as he scouted for the group and Blake or any zombies that decided to make an appearance.

 

Luckily, none had, and luckily 10K had enough sense about him to not shoot anything that came around the corner.

 

Warren was leading, Cassandra in front of Mack and Garnett as Blake stayed slightly further from the rest. They had their weapons raised, and Murphy assumed it was for the prospect of zombies rather than Cassandra-- provided that she had given them information just like last time.

 

Cassandra still looked shaken, on the verge of crying as she walked to the front of the truck underneath Murphy as she spared a glance up to him. Murphy shifted his head down towards her, raising an eyebrow but not speaking out. He figured they'd explain sometime soon-- similar to last time, of course.

 

Warren stood next to Cassandra, Mack and Garnett to the side as Blake moved over towards 10K and Doc. All of them remained silent for a long moment; distrust, fear, worry, and a distraught environment consuming them. Doc couldn't take it any longer though, looking around towards the five that had come back from their escape-to-nowhere-through-the-zombie-filled-city.

 

And cannibals too, now that Murphy thinks about everything that has happened.

 

"Well?" Doc questioned, prying for answers (since last he heard) Addy had been taken and Cassandra knew something.

 

Cassandra shifted under Warren's gaze as it fell on her. "Taken by cannibals." Warren turned towards Doc, watching as the man drew back, eyes widening in fear as he lost his breath.

 

It didn't surprise Murphy though and he didn't feel the need to act the part, nodding his head as he looked over towards 10K. Despite last time, the kid had a different reaction-- slightly similar, but still eye-catching to Murphy.

 

10K's eyes widened, similar to Doc's as his grip tightened on his rifle, head snapping over towards Cassandra who refused to look any of them in the eyes.

 

"Cannibals? They--" Doc's head turned to Cassandra as well, a bewildered look thrown her way. "You know them? Are you…?"

 

He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was clearly implied.

 

Cassandra nodded her head, finally lifting her gaze to all of them. "Not anymore." Her voice was low, not deadly low, but worried low with a sense of confirmation in it.

 

Murphy distinctly remembered Cassandra almost always refusing to eat meat in the future. Not that they could eat much, but fish usually made Cassandra shy away, that is, if they had something other that could substitute. Survival never compensated for your wants or desires, so Cassandra had usually sucked it up and dealt with it.

 

Murphy cleared his throat, shifting on the hood of the truck as he rested his feet near the headlight. Everyone's attention turned towards him, some raising their eyebrows, others (mainly Blake) glaring up at him.

 

"Any of you ever hear about the Arnold the pig joke?" Last time, he hadn't gotten a positive response, seeming too early to bring it up, and in some of the other's words, dickish. He hadn't really cared the first time around, but he needed the group to be on his side this time and not hate his guts.

 

Warren looked towards him; eyebrows raised with her infamous prying gaze that Murphy had learned not to crack under after years of being with her. The concern to where the joke would go was evident too, as the others looked at him in confusion. Guess the joke still wouldn't get much of a positive response.

 

He shrugged, deciding against telling it as he shook his head, his shaggy brown hair he had tried to comb back falling in his face some. "Seems fitting." He mumbled. Fitting but got him looks like he was an asshole, so probably best not to tell it.

 

Cassandra's eyes, that had looked near close to crying before, were filled with curiosity as she looked up towards him before shaking her head once realizing what the punchline of the joke would be. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking over towards the others.

 

"We didn't start out as cannibals." She didn't seem as fearful as she had before and remembering Cassandra's memories when she had been his Blend, he had a semblance of an idea of what had happened in there, but the explaining didn't range to the full implications on what cannibalism in the apocalypse entitled.

 

"How is that even possible? Everything's infected with the zombie virus." Garnett asked, nervously tapping his foot.

 

His statement wasn't entirely correct though. Most things had been infected with the virus-- thus many experiences throughout the apocalypse. Mainly mammals, sometimes the occasional arachnid. He pushed back Addy and Warren's memories of the zombie spiders that they had come up upon when he had been ruling in Spokane.

 

Despite it, Garnett continued uninterrupted. "If you kill it and eat it, you get the live virus."

 

That, however, was fully true…Exempting the fact of Blends, of course. And himself.

 

Cassandra hesitated, looking away from the group as her fingers curled around the strap of her backpack. "But if you eat it alive…"

 

None of them gave an outright reaction besides Blake taking in an audible deep breath, hands curling around the end of her jean jacket.

 

Murphy leaned back against the windshield of the truck, putting his hands behind his head and trying to stay as balanced as possible. He had heard all of this before. The cannibals, the plan, the idea that they were only humans fending for survival against a cruel world. If it hadn't been for living through it the first time, having the group's memories ingrained in his mind when they were his Blends did the trick.

 

Regardless of Murphy's knowledge to the situation, Cassandra sighed in a breath, continuing on. "We were just people trying to survive. Tobias saved me. First from the Z's. Then from the worst of humanity."

 

And yet she became one of the worst of humanity.

 

She started pleading with them, trying to beg them into seeing that she wasn't one of the cannibals as she lowered her voice, crossing her arms back over her chest. "He was a good man. Then his wife got sick." She looked over towards Warren. "She just couldn't take it anymore. And he was never the same after that."

 

Cassandra stifled a sniffle, trying to keep herself from crying as she continued on. "When Black Summer came and everyone else in the world was starving, " Mack started to walk away, causing anxiety to reach Cassandra's voice as it raised. "He swore he would do whatever it took to keep us alive. And he did!"

 

Murphy pushed himself off the truck, hopping to the ground with a little less ease than he planned for just as Mack grabbed his backpack, trying to walk away from the group and Blake. Garnett stopped him though grabbing his shoulder and putting a hand on his chest.

 

"I'm going back for Addy." That stupidity within bravery and love shone thrown Mack's voice-- clear determination like nothing anyone could say or do would stop him.

 

"Hang on, Mack." Garnett tried, voice stern but trying to be calm to keep the situation under control.

 

"Garnett, don't try to stop me." The determination was evident, sizing Garnett up with less of the psychotic look, but more of a dangerous bravery.

 

"Nobody's gonna try to stop you. We're all going back." Garnett informed, looking around at all the others. "We just need a plan."

 

That had struck Cassandra though, reverting back to yelling at them. "You don't understand! These people are worse than Zs." She looked around them. "They'll kill all of you."

 

What was it that Blake said before? Anything now could end up killing the group? That nothing that he remembered from the future played any part when one simple change could end up killing anyone at any given point in time?

 

They'll kill all of you. Funny thing was, Murphy couldn't say it would be the first time.

 

"And what is that plan exactly?" Figured he'd ask before he gives them a sense of their own knowledge. Hey! Can't he take credit for coming up with it if none of the others remembered they had?

 

Cassandra turned towards him, an incredulous look spread across her pleading face. He wasn't actually sure why her motives suddenly changed for the group not to get killed. That had always baffled him.

 

Garnett put his hands on his hips, making sure Mack wouldn't try to ditch them, or Blake wouldn't do…whatever, before turning his attention to Cassandra.

 

"Do you know where they've taken her?"

 

Cassandra shook her head in disbelief, staring around the group like they had lost their minds. Which, undeniably, they probably already have.

 

"You can't be serious. They don't show mercy! They'll eat you alive." She tried to beg them again, taking in sharp breaths trying to control her breathing.

 

Murphy saw Mack grind his teeth, lip twitching looking like he was on the verge of yelling. Blake, however, had cut him short.

 

"And we can't leave Addy back there." Blake took another step forward towards Cassandra, and Murphy couldn't help as he involuntarily took a step closer to stop her. He knew that if he kept her from doing so, it would look suspicious, so he took a step back last second. "We need to get her back, and we need to know where she is."

 

Cassandra let out a breath, glancing around the group with a look of pure perplexity. "What…" She hesitated. "What about him?" Cassandra gestured towards Murphy, who stood right beside her. "Your mission for humanity? The cure?" She tried, pointing towards him as if to convey her point.

 

Warren took a step closer, one that intimidated the girl as she backed up. "Addy is a part of our family, and I'll be damned if we leave her behind." Warren gritted out, staring down Cassandra who gulped nervously.

 

After moments of waiting, she finally caved in, sighing as she let her head fall. "It's at the far edge of town…I'll show you."

 

Warren nodded towards her, satisfied that they found out where Addy was, as she looked over towards Garnett. The man nodded in reply, looking back over to Cassandra.

 

It seemed all too eerily similar to last time, and Murphy couldn't say he liked it. The plan hadn't been-- let's just say full-proof. Sure, 10K as the sniper behind the scenes worked-- for some time that is. In the end, Cassandra ended up sacrificing herself for Addy's safety, yada-yada-yada, and it all turned out alright by the end while being an utter shit-show from the beginning.

 

He wasn't all too keen on a repeat of that.

 

"So what? You're just gonna go in there, guns blazing?" He couldn't help but ask just for the hell of it.

 

Garnett held his gaze on Murphy for a moment, raising his eyebrow. Oh, right. After the Hammond incident, he wasn't allowed to call the shots anymore.

 

Still, the man had some common sense, turning towards Cassandra who was by Murphy's side. "How many are there?"

 

Cassandra shook her head, racketing her brain for an answer. "Eight? Maybe…only seven mobile though and half of them aren't too good at firing guns." Good. Hopefully that validates for a new plan. Or of course they could always do the second plan first and ram in with a pack of zombies behind while blasting 'Ride of Valkyries'.

 

Garnett gave a slight nod, now turning his attention to 10K who quickly shifted his attention up to the Sergeant. "You think you can shoot up to one hundred yards?"

 

Without a verbal response, 10K nodded his head in confirmation.

 

Oh shit. Murphy couldn't help but grumble mentally. They were going with the first plan again.

 

Once given the silent answer, Garnett looked around towards the others, confirming Murphy's nightmares of doing the shitty plan. "Alright…we'll force them into giving us back Addy. 10K'll take the shot to threaten them, or if worse comes to worse, we'll have a sniper for high ground. I'll bargain with them to give us Addy back in exchange for…" He stopped for a moment, hesitating on his answer.

 

"…In exchange for not harming them and allowing them to continue what they're doing."

 

He could see the shift like it was the Red Sea. Half the group didn't like it, the other half was okay with it, and then you had Murphy who resented the whole idea of going with the first plan.

 

"No…We can't just let them continue." Blake took a step forward, away from Cassandra and towards the two men. "Garnett, they're eating men alive and using women as bait. We can't let them do that."  

 

Blake was confusing to say the least. 'Death for majority but we can't let people harm one another.' There was no logic and no side to her story. She wanted what was best, but had no clue what was the best. Either he underestimated her knowledge and her planning and ideas were impeccable, or she was an idiot Risen member without a braincell in her head to know what needed to be accomplished.

 

And Murphy knew exactly which one she was.

 

"We're not superheroes, Blake." Mack argued, shaking his head towards her like he didn't even know who she was anymore. "We can't save everybody, but we gotta get Addy out of there."

 

She stared at him, then the rest of the group before huffing out a sigh and taking her place next to Doc again.

 

And that's where it seemed the confirmation to 'Shitty Plan Number One' lied, and Murphy couldn't say he was all too enthralled with it.

 

"What? That's it?" He wasn't just going to let this repeat again. "That's your big plan?"

 

Garnett turned back towards him, shaking his head with the slightest of a glare, motioning towards Murphy. "I'd love to hear if you got better plan."

 

Oh it was, and it just happened to be yours. Funny with the irony in it.

 

Murphy shrugged, being all too sly with his advantage in knowledge. "Cassandra said Zs like high pitched sounds and music. Instead of wasting the little ammo we have, why don't we let the zombies do the job for us?"

 

How's that for a plan?

 

The idea actually seemed to impress Garnett, given it was his to begin with, nodding over towards Warren who looked equally as impressed and intrigued.

 

"That could work. If we get that Z guy to help, we could set that plan in motion." He looked over towards Doc and the satellite dish in the truck bed.

 

"What about Addy?" Warren questioned. "We can't just leave her in there with the zombies…or the cannibals."

 

Right. Last time Cassandra had been in there. They had put Doc up to be…well a man looking for attention and the cannibals immediately put Cassandra up for bait again. Murphy wasn't so sure his knowledge applied to Addy, given the fact that they wouldn't put her up for bait immediately.

 

From what Murphy remembered from Cassandra, she had been put through a lot of training and punishment before tasering men for food.

 

"Bait?" Always worth a shot to try though.

 

Cassandra shook her head, her breathing leveled out now. "No, not this early. They wouldn't do that. Tobias is smarter than that."

 

Mack was quickly becoming even more impatient as Doc spoke. "What about combining the two plans?" He offered. "If we get Addy close enough to the gate, 10K can shoot the guy holding her, and once she's out we'll bring the zombies in."

 

That…didn't actually seem like a bad plan. Then again, that meant she had to get out of the way from a pack of Zs and a full speed ramming pickup truck.

 

"Too risky." Warren said, looking over towards Garnett. "You and her would be right where the zombies are coming from."

 

Murphy wouldn't say his idea of offering Blake instead to get Addy was all that bad, but he didn't say it aloud, knowing he'd get told to shut up almost immediately. That however, didn't seem to stop Cassandra from speaking up.

 

She nervously shuffled from each foot, blinking rapidly before looking up. A new kind of determination spread across her face that wasn't like Mack's stupid-in-love type.

 

"You'll trade me." She spoke, causing all of them, even Murphy, to snap their heads towards her.

 

"No." Blake was first to speak, looking over to the ex-cannibal. "We're not trading you or anybody. We don't do that."

 

"That's not…that's not entirely what I meant." Cassandra tried to explain, trying to keep herself from nervously shifting. "They want me. Once you get Addy out, and let Tobias have me, I'll be back in his grasp."

 

"And right where the zombies are." Mack pointed out, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he stared at her.

 

Murphy would barely call it a smile as it twitched on Cassandra's lips. "But I'll be right next to him."

 

None of the others seemed to get it, and Murphy was having a hard time understanding what she was getting at. Still, Cassandra sighed, carrying on with her explaining. "If I have a knife on me, I can kill Tobias. I know where all the escapes are. Once the zombies come in, and the others are distracted, I can sneak out."

 

Despite everything, Cassandra's offer shouldn't have surprised him, but managed to. He should have fully expected her to trade herself, since it happened later in the future, but the idea that she wanted to kill Tobias this time was different. He was fine with it though, as long as it didn't end up with anybody of the group killed.

 

Although, Murphy wouldn't be all too disappointed if Blake didn't make it back.

 

---line break----

 

Blake's POV:

 

The plan was set in motion almost immediately, everyone loading up in the truck as Warren and Garnett got ahold of Citizen Z. Once the plan was informed to Simon, and the satellite was hooked up (with struggle, to say the least) they managed to get on the road with Cassandra pointing them in the direction.

 

The seating arrangement was nearly the same. Garnett and Warren near one another-- one driving. Cassandra sat in the middle, directing while Blake sat on one side, and Mack sat on the other. Murphy would have been in Mack's spot, but the dictator refused to sit near Blake, and instead got in the truck bed with Doc and 10K.

 

The area started to become even more desolate and run-down as they traveled along the straight road, silence consuming them before Garnett spoke up.

 

"So that Travis guy was a cannibal too?" He asked.

 

Cassandra nodded her head, shifting her attention over to Blake with a quiet "Uh-huh."

 

Mack caught the interaction though, staring over at the two of them. "What was that for?"

 

"What was what for?" Warren asked, momentarily taking her eyes off the road to look back towards the three of them.

 

Mack disregarded her, looking between Blake and Cassandra. "Why did you look at her?" He asked Cassandra, that hard, but confused tone within his questioning.

 

Cassandra's attention snapped towards everyone in the car before leaning back against the seat. "Blake…had a clue about that before you guys."

 

That got the three other Operation Bitemark's attention as they spared a glance towards Blake. She was use to eyes being on her at points, so she didn't shy away when they did so.

 

"You knew?" Garnett asked, leaning over the back of his headrest to look at her fully.

 

You're just a survivor. Tell what you saw, not what you know.

 

"I…I saw Travis try to-- well, taser Cassandra." She stumbled on her words, trying not to give information that she knew prior that Travis was a cannibal.

 

"And you didn't tell us?" Warren questioned, looking in the rearview mirror so that she could watch the lifeless road, but Blake at the same time. There was that worry in her words, but it was well hidden within the questioning. 

 

Blake's face fell, biting the bottom of her lip-- not scared, but slightly due to annoyance. "I was trying to. Why did you think I tried to keep you from shooting or going off the rails on her?"

 

I did it because that's my mission. I did that because I need to protect her. Because she can't die. Because I care about her and you guys, and I won't let any of you die again.

 

Blake knew that suspicion Warren previously had on her dwindled some, much to Blake's relief, as all of the three looked slightly guilty to not listening. Blake couldn't say she was exempted though. She should've just told them outright.

 

The conversation turned back to silence for another long moment before they pulled behind a hill, quietly stopping with Cassandra saying the cannibal's base was right up ahead.

 

They all unloaded out of the truck, the three hopping off the truck bed as they went over the plan once more with one another. Blake caught a glimpse of Murphy, sneaking a little further up the hill and peeking over it.

 

"Hey." She tried to keep her voice quiet, but loud enough that it drew his and the other's attention. "Where'd you think you're going?"

 

"Murphy." Warren called, only a little louder, causing the man to look her way. "Get back over here." She motioned for him to speed it up as Murphy sauntered his way over.

 

"I got another challenge for you." He didn't have that sly tone to it like he had before as he spoke. "What are we gonna do about the machine gun?"

 

What?!

 

With his last words, the others whipped their heads to look over the hill or to Cassandra.

 

"You know about that?" Warren questioned as Cassandra sheepishly nodded her head.

 

"They barely ever use it." She informed, nervously moving out of the other's gaze.

 

What was this? Some action movie?

 

Doc shrugged, taking a deep breath. "Well, why don't the cannibals have a machine gun?" He asked sarcastically, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

 

Garnett sighed, his gaze lingering over towards the hill before turning back to them. "Alright, change in plans. Blake and 10K, you two go make sure that machine gun never fires."

 

God, Blake didn't like the sound of that plan. 10K looked over towards her, slightly distrusting but he didn't speak out on it. What did she do to him?

 

Garnett continued. "Cassandra and I will still try to get Addy back." He pointed over towards Warren and Mack. "You two will be back-up. Once their leader is down, they'll start firing." He then turned towards Doc and Murphy, as the dictator shifted his head to look at them. "If it comes down to it, you two will drive the car and distract with the zombies. We'll try to save that as a last resort though."

 

Blake couldn't help but mentally compliment on Murphy's idea with the zombies. It was smart, in all honesty, but she had a feeling Murphy wasn't that smart to come up with it.

 

…Had he used the group's idea last time against them?

 

She gave him an unimpressed look, just figuring it out as he smirked over towards her, the slightest of glee shining through now that the group thought 'his' plan was something worth trying.

 

They all nodded, understanding their goal. Blake had been about to walk away before she stopped to look at 10K, the boy taking out one of his knifes, seemingly out of nowhere, and holding it out towards Cassandra. The girl stared baffled at it for a moment before taking it, sliding it into her pocket where she could easily retrieve it and giving him a small nod of gratitude in response.

 

A light smile graced his lips as he made his way over to Blake, readying his rifle for their mission.

 

Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath, seemingly preparing herself as Garnett nodded, holstering and hiding his gun from view.

 

"Alright. Let's do this."

Notes:

I have a question for you guys. What was 10K and Cassandra's relationship like in the show? I'll have to find the video for evidence, but Pisay Pao (the actress of Cassandra) said that the writers wanted it to be a brother/sister relationship, but the directors changed it to be more of a romance.

Would you guys be okay with that? Like a romance (given only a little) between the two of them?

Coming Soon:
Philly Feast Remake (Part Three)

Chapter 14: Philly Feast Remake (Part Three)

Summary:

If it wasn't for the change you created, would any of this ever happen? Would I be stuck in a spiral of torture because you thought it could change?

Notes:

Hope everyone's April Fools was good. Anybody have any pranks? FYI--I didn't. Instead, I spent that night staying up until three praying I'll be able to finish this chapter since I'm behind again. Thus, this monstrosity was created. Tell me if there were errors, inconsistences, or dialogue needed to be changed. Thanks!

Also, we're releasing the squirrels we raised from little babies today! Wish them luck as they venture into the wild.

Z-Nation has always seemed to find a balance between its comedy and horror-- even for an episode like this. I want to give a fair warning ahead of time. This chapter is…gruesome in more aspects than one. Lots of death--let's just say that.

Blake's POV:

 

Her and 10K swiftly, but quietly, made their way behind where the cannibals resided. Once they had turned a few blocks, killed a few zombies, and passed a couple alleyways, Blake was able to see the machine gun perched on top of the cannibal's base. No one was guarding it, which was lucky for them, but it was blocked off with barbed wire fence and home-made walls.

 

It didn't come as much of a challenge to 10K as it did for Blake. He had easily been able to jump on top of a dumpster, pulling himself up and over the fence and near the platform the machine gun rested on.

 

As much as Blake tried, she wasn't as agile as him, pulling herself onto the dumpster, but hesitating to grab onto the fence. Garnett had only given them ten minutes to get to the machine gun before he would talk to the cannibal leader-- Tobias, as Cassandra had said-- so with a shaky breath, she clutched onto the intertwined wire, trying to pull herself up.

 

She got a decent way, but because she had been rushing, she managed to get her boot caught just as she reached the top. "Oh!" Her grap slipped, causing her to fall slightly, both her feet coming loose from their grips, and her hands barely holding on to the wire.

 

"Shit!" Blake nearly cried, desperately trying to pull herself up as her hands cut into the metal, starting to draw blood.

 

10K, who had been a fair distance ahead of her, finally noticed her struggle. He slung his rifle back over his shoulder, silently making his way down near her. With slight hesitation (Blake assumed he worried she'd tell him to piss off and she could do it herself) he grabbed her shoulders, helping to pull her up and get her footing once more.

 

Once her feet were planted back on the wire, and her hands (cuts bleeding from her palms) were now able to pull herself up the rest of the way, he took a step back. With a little more ease than before, she finally made it beside him, brushing her hands against her pants and wiping the fresh blood off.

 

"Thanks." She whispered loud enough to hear. He gave her a nod in reply, silently telling "it was no problem", before they both shuffled their way closer to the piece of artillery.

 

Blake was a foot or so behind 10K, watching the younger man's back as he crept forward. She hadn't had many interactions with him, most of the time he'd nod her way or help her out, but she could still see that little distrust linger in his eyes. She wasn't exactly sure why.

 

Her best guess was that it came with years of (possibly) being by himself-- learning how to survive, fend, and keep distance from others. Her mind slowly wandered how hard it was for a person that taught himself to trust nobody, finally learn to trust and travel with strangers that he had saved.

 

Sure, Blake had been alone for some time. A year at most before meeting Brett, but she had been older-- 37 at least, actually. She didn't have a clue how old 10K was now, when he was alone, or when he died. Murphy had never given out his age, and 10K never announced it.

 

Her only guess was that he was young-- maybe around 20, but no older than that. Or, of course, she could be completely wrong. It was only a rough estimate and seeing as how people matured faster in the apocalypse (hopefully fully) but in any case, more self-sufficient. Still, with everything provided, 10K could be even younger than that.

 

It hadn't been long before she was drawn out of her thoughts, 10K raising his hand in signal to stop. Blake stopped abruptly behind him, keeping herself from colliding into him as he scanned the area. Planted in her spot, she decided to do the same.

 

Surprisingly for Pennsylvania, the land was barren. Patches of grass and vegetation littered the dirt covered ground, making it look more like a desert. Tall fencing, like the one her and 10K had climbed over, lined the perimeter of where the cannibals were. Blake peeked around the wall her and 10K were hiding behind, staring over 10K's head.

 

She could see RVs parked randomly inside the fenced area, open shelters, tunnels, and building closed off with intricately designed rugs. A grill sat further in the corner near a heavily rug covered room, not allowing any light to shine through.

 

If possible, she mentally made a note, check what's in there.

 

Given the circumstances, Blake knew it was nothing good.

 

Along the gates were zombies, tied to where it would open, as they snarled and gnashed their teeth. To their luck, they made it before Garnett and Cassandra did, given the mercy of being able to set up quietly.

 

Blake tapped 10K on the shoulder, nodding forward, telling him that they could move a bit farther. He understood, shifting his way ahead of her again to get behind a pile of tires that had been stacked up as a barricade by the machine gun on the platform. Blake had been the first to peek up from behind them, just seeing Garnett and Cassandra make their way towards the fence.

 

10K noticed as well, shifting so that he could look in his bag. Confused, Blake turned her attention towards him, watching as he swiftly pulled out some rope, handing it over to her as she gave him a baffled look.

 

"What is this for?" She whispered, still trying to keep her voice low as she grabbed it off of him.

 

He didn't look her in the eyes, zipping his bag back up and whispering back, nearly quieter than her.

 

"To tie them up."

 

His remark was so simple, like he had tied a person up before, that Blake had to shake her head to clear her thoughts and think logically.

 

She wasn't sure what her plan was going to be if somebody came to the machine gun. She hadn't been sure if they would kill the cannibal or knock them out. Seeing as how they were tying the cannibal up; she wasn't sure if she was more pleased with the outcome or not.

 

Regardless, she took the rope, mindlessly toying with it in her hands. She barely allowed herself to look over to where Garnett and Cassandra where, idly letting her mind wonder in a spiral of events that could take place. Secretly, she wished that she had been a part of Operation Bitemark in the past life. She hated the way Murphy had more knowledge of the events, and how dependent she had to be on him.

 

It didn't take too long for a man to come hopping up on the platform, a skip in his step like his spirits had brightened, but in the smuggest of ways.

 

Blake could tell he was heading for the machine gun, her grip tightening around the rope as 10K got up, crouching as he quietly made his way behind the man. Getting the clue that they were moving now, Blake tried to follow. The cannibal hadn't even gotten the chance to sit down before 10K raised the butt of his rifle, striking it across the man's head, causing the cannibal to collapse to the ground.

 

Blake took that as her cue, shifting the rope so that the ends were in either hand and kneeling down towards the man.

 

Even when she was tying him up and 10K was taking watch, she couldn't say she felt bad or had any pity. Her mind focused on the fact that this man had eaten, killed, and practically tortured victims without any remorse of his own. Or, at least, that's what she assumed.

 

A nagging thought pushed past those prior, flashing the soulless eyes of Jackson-- a man who had been so caring, but morally wrong to kill innocents that had no choice of their own. When he had no pity to killing Blends, she had no pity towards cannibals.

 

She swallowed nervously, pushing the thoughts back. She didn't have time to dwell on that right now. She had to focus on Operation Do-Over. She had to make sure no one got killed, hurt, or separated. Blake had to keep Operation Bitemark alive.

 

Once the cannibal was tied with a cloth gag in his mouth in case he woke up, Blake refused to spare him another glance, instead looking over to 10K. He, however, did look down to the man, but Blake couldn't read if he felt bad or not. He managed to hide it too well.

 

His eyes lingered over to the machine gun before turning his attention down towards the cannibals who were running to the gate. They could see Tobias holding Addy by the back, a knife pressed against her throat.

 

Blake sucked in a breath, taking a step closer to the machine gun as she placed her hand on it. "Alright. We just watch this, and keep the cannibals from getting to it. Sounds easy enough." It was more reassurance on her end than it was reiterating the plan.

 

She hadn't even been able to get the whole sentence out before 10K started to make his way down off the platform and into the cannibal base.

 

"Where are you--?" He had left before she could say any more.

 

Guess he went to find a better sniping location.

 

Blake sighed, dropping her arms to loosen the tension as her gaze fell back towards the piece of artillery and Cassandra and Garnett.

 

"Sure." She breathed out. "I'll keep watch by the machine gun."

 

--- line break---

 

Cassandra's POV:

 

She felt like she was wading her way through tar with every step she moved closer to her previous 'home'. The guilt and sickening feeling returned every time she'd look over at the RVs. Every man she had tasered; every man she had ate-- that she had watch Tobias cut and cook the flesh off of.

 

The memories flashed through her mind, and she couldn't blink them away. She couldn't forget about them because with every step, she was heading right back to where the horror all started.

 

Garnett kept his hand on her back, helping to lead her forward, but she couldn't help but think it was for reassurance as well. All this time she had kept the group at arms length, she had made herself not trust them, and said that they would find her a monster the second they found out the truth.

 

When she had told them, none of them accused her of being a spawn of the Devil. They hadn't called her evil or disgusting. They hadn't moved themselves farther from her in fear that she would decide to eat them like all her other victims. Even when Garnett had been making a plan to get Addy back, none of them offered to trade her in exchange for Addy.

 

It had been her to offer it.

 

She never thought she could possibly be with a group again. She had seen all groups as evil, and she had led herself to believe that she was too much of a monster to join any. Cassandra had found herself believing it was better to die alone, locked up in a cage, then it was the face anyone again.

 

But with this group, it had shown her something that she thought all humanity had lost. The way Garnett, Warren, Doc, and Blake had looked at Addy as family, or the way Mack had loved Addy enough to risk going alone to get her-- she had thought any family that formed in the apocalypse turned out to be a cult.

 

But not all were-- this group wasn't, and all those times she had put such a distrust in them seemed to lighten some. Addy had been kind to her. Laughing with her, talking to her, carrying on a girly conversation that Cassandra never thought she would hear again. She couldn't let the monsters that she had been a part of take Addy and turn her into one of them.

 

Cassandra had never thought she would go back and trade herself for another person's safety, but during these past few days, it felt like her whole perception had changed around people.

 

She took a deep breath as she watched the cannibals-- her previous 'family'-- run to the gate, that sick, twisted smile lining their faces the second they saw her. Tobias and Addy were nowhere to be seen, but most of the others were.

 

She drew her gaze away from them, feeling like she was about to puke just being back here, as her hand ran along the knife tucked in her pocket. It was out of sight, but assessable enough that she could use it quickly. The cool metal of the music box was tucked in the front pocket of her hoodie, the small, but familiar, weight pushing it down.

 

She could feel Garnett's gaze linger down momentarily towards her before looking back up to Karl and Bernt who stood near the gate, eyeing her. Cassandra gulped, sucking in every disgusted and hating thought-- focusing on her mission.

 

They had finally made it to the gate, Garnett raising his hands in surrender. Cassandra kept hers down, still subtly running along the blade of the knife, her breath caught in her throat as her fear started to bubble.

 

You can't be afraid. Hesitation will get you killed.

 

She never thought what Tobias said would ever be meaningful. Now, she was using what he had taught her, through pain and suffering, against him.

 

"Well hello." The light tone that Bernt always had when talking to men looking for sex appeared again. He smiled as he kept his gaze on her. "I get the feeling you're not lookin' for female companionship, are ya?"

 

He gave a chuckle, looking back towards Karl who's deep laughing mirrored Bernt.

 

"I'm not." Garnett spoke, his voice deep and low, but as calm as it was when he had been trying to keep Mack from doing anything stupid. "You have my friend-- Red head, named Addy." He gave up on trying to explain, shrugging with his hands raised as he looked back to Samuel-- recognizing him from the video. "I'm sure you know who she is. I've come to get her back."

 

That sick smile only grew on their faces, looking back over to Cassandra.

 

"That depends." Karl drawled, his gun light at his side. "I see you're looking to trade." His eyes shimmered as his hand twitched, just like all the times when Karl had been mad.

 

Samuel wasn't any better. Even behind that twisted smile, she could see he was fuming. Over leaving him, running away from the family, killing Travis. Out of all the family, Travis and Samuel had been the closest, and Cassandra knew the second he got ahold of her, it would be nothing but torture.

 

But she won't let that happen.

 

Garnett side-eyed her, nearly looking like he was about to change their plans, but she spoke before he could.

 

"We are." She tried to keep her voice as calm and authoritative as possible, but she couldn't hide the quiver that followed. "Just bring Addy out, and I'll come back." Even though she promised herself not the plead, it escaped her-- knowing trying to make deals with these people never ended well.

 

"Ah, I see. We get you. The non-following, disobedient, killing girl in exchange for letting our new bait go?" Samuel let his gun fall slightly, his glare only becoming more prominent on her.

 

He was never this careless. Samuel was always one to act up, but he had known when to negotiate and follow along. After everything, and Tobias not being around at the moment, Cassandra assumed now was the time for him to start to let his building anger show.

 

"Listen, scumbag." There wasn't nearly as much bite in Garnett's voice as Cassandra thought there would be. That didn't stop him from getting fed up though. "We're offering a deal. You give us our girl back and we'll give you yours."

 

Cassandra's hands curled around the edge of her shirt. She constantly reminded herself that this was her choice. That it hadn't been Garnett's or any of the group's. She had been the one to offer herself back.

 

Her mental assurances calmed her some, listening as Garnett's tone turned lighter by the end, like he wasn't all too keen on letting her go back either.

 

Samuel's lip twitched as Bernt tried to give him a look to shut up, but nothing more could happen as that charismatic, upbeat but dangerous tone of voice that Cassandra remembered all too well, spoke.

 

"Enough." She tried to keep her eyes from wandering over like Garnett's had, but the second she heard Addy's whimper, her head snapped up.

 

Tobias had a knife (the knife he had always used to skin a victim) pressed against Addy's throat. Cassandra couldn't help but cringe in disgust, seeing the girls had already 'dolled' Addy up. Exaggerated makeup on her horrified face, skimpy clothes that revealed too much of her body. But none of them could do anything about it, the petrified red-head and the insane cannibal leader making their way closer.

 

"No arguments are necessary here." Tobias smiled, the knife still cutting close to Addy's neck.

 

"Garnett!" Addy screamed, the fear overriding the stripper look they had given her-- tears forming as she shook with each step. Cassandra wanted to close her eyes, look away in pure horror because this is what she had been a part of. This was what she used to be. "These people are insane!"

 

She tried to struggle free, but the knife was only pushed closer.

 

"Say that again and I'll eat your heart." He warned and that was enough for Garnett to take a step forward, lowering his hands a tad. The other cannibals noticed, raising their weapons towards him, and Tobias didn't stop them, his eyes lingering on Cassandra.

 

"Let her go, Tobias." That tone she wanted before finally spoke, and she could see the look of horror growing on Addy's face.

 

"It's been so long, Sunshine. Have you finally decided it's time to come home?" It was nearly a taunt. A play at fear-- just like Tobias had always been good at.

 

Just as the words left his mouth, she could see the fear increase on Addy's face, the shock and horror combining into one. She could see Garnett shift, and she couldn't control how her breathing started to rise even more. He always calls her Sunshine. This place is always called home.

 

Neither were who she was anymore.

 

"Let her go and I'll come back." She hated to say those words. I'll come back. Ever since she escaped, she promised those words would never leave her lips. And yet here and now, they had.

 

"That's not a problem." He paused as the knife pressed against the pale skin of Addy's. "That is, if I can trust you. How am I to know you won't run away from your family again? How can I be sure you won't try to leave us without our Sunshine?"

 

"I won't run away anymore." Because I'm already free. "I promise."

 

The smile only grew on his face as Addy squirmed.

 

"No." Addy started, shaking her head as much as she could. "No, don't do this! Garnett, don't let her do this." She pleaded, her breathing becoming erratic but against her pleas, no one responded.

 

"You give us Addy and we'll give you Cassandra. After that, you're free to eat whoever you want."

 

She picked up on the way Garnett refused to call her 'Sunshine', the spark of hope she had for this group growing.

 

"A deal is a deal." He lightened his grasp on Addy, nearly letting her go before pulling her right back. Cassandra and Garnett helpless to do anything with the guns still trained on them. "But… I need your word that you'll never come back here again. Not to stop us, kill us, or ever take my Sunshine away again."

 

I'm not your 'Sunshine', you bastard.

 

Garnett's eyes lingered on him, debating on the compromise and causing Cassandra's fear to spike on what he was thinking.

 

"Don't do it, Garnett. Kill them all! Don't!" Addy yelled, trying to squirm her way out of Tobias's grip, but he held her tightly.

 

"Is it a deal?" Tobias asked, the smirk only shining more through his words as the knife dug closer to Addy's skin.

 

Garnett nodded, "Deal." It was low and quiet, but loud enough for Tobias to hear.

 

That smile, the one he always had-- the one that haunted her nightmares, only grew as the gates were opened and the zombies were pushed aside. The metal and locks clicked with each inch that gate was moved, but each step Cassandra took forward. She ignored the chill running up her spine. She ignored the weak feeling consuming her legs.

 

Like every other time she had been in a position where she didn't think she could do it, she hid her fear with a smile.

 

It wasn't one to lure men in. It wasn't one to hide her pain from the day's punishment. She let the smile line her face because she knew Addy needed it. She knew the young woman needed reassurance. One to know that they would both be alright. That everything would work out in the end.

 

But it didn't help. As Tobias let Addy go, the red-head only shook her head, her breathing heavy as she stared at Cassandra. Tears prickled the red-head's eyes, the mascara and eyeshadow smearing across her face.

 

"No." It was low, a whisper really, as Addy grabbed her hands, trying to keep her planted. The action caused Cassandra's hand to be drawn away from the safety of the knife in her pocket, causing a slight panic to rise.

 

But she hid it like she always did.

 

"It's okay. Okay?" She gripped Addy's hands back, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. "You go with Garnett. Don't look back. I'll be okay."

 

Even with the comfort she was trying to provide with a weak laugh, it only spiked Addy's fear causing her to cry, and Cassandra knew why.

 

Just spending a day with the cannibals was like living in Hell. Addy knew she had been there. She knew Cassandra was a cannibal and now Addy knows what Cassandra is trading herself back to. Addy held sympathy, caring and compassion. That was why Cassandra now had no hesitation to get her out.

 

"Hey…hey." She cupped her hands around Addy's face, finally bringing them away from her knife as she tried to calm Addy down. "Everything's going to be alright. Okay? You just have to trust me."

 

Trust me like the day I trusted you. Like the day you saved me from the cage-- the day you saved me from my death.

 

It was unspoken, but known, as Addy grabbed her wrists, trying to be brave, but with the events of today, only ending up cracking in built-up emotion.

 

She took the opportunity to turn them around, pressing her forehead against Addy's as the young woman reciprocated the action. Cassandra's eyes lingered over to Garnett's, nodding towards him as she released her hold on Addy, pushing off so the red-head could make her way to safety.

 

But with every step either girl took back, one continued weep in fear while the other tried to hide it with a gentle smile. The second Addy had stepped out of the gates, Garnett had grabbed her arms, pulling her to the dirt road.

 

Cassandra would have given anything in that exact moment to be reminded and assured of that safety. She had never been saved from the cannibals. She had run off the first time, and in that split second--just as Tobias grabbed her hand to pull her into a strong hug so she couldn't escape-- she wanted that feeling of safety more than ever.

 

But she pushed it down, hand trailing down the side of her leg to touch the blade in her pocket, right as Tobias grabbed her, wrapping his muscular arms around her back and neck, locking her in a hold so she couldn't get out.

 

She tried to ignore Addy's cried screams, telling that they couldn't leave her. Cassandra's heart swelled-- just with the fact of being wanted by people who were sane, even after all they had found out about her.

 

"Go!" Garnett yelled, and Cassandra knew he was pushing Addy away, just waiting for her signal.

 

Hesitation will get you killed. But that was exactly what she was doing. She was afraid that stabbing a knife in Tobias's throat wouldn't end her nightmare. She was afraid that the second she killed him, her own life would be taken as well.

 

That in the end, she would never be shown the care of a family like the group showed one another.

 

Nothing like a cult. Nothing evil or malicious, but something pure and something she wanted.

 

But she hesitated.

 

"You're home now." Tobias shushed her, running his hand through her hair, only causing her to shake more than she already was. "You're home now, Sunshine, and you will never leave again."  It was a threat within the calming tone. One that said, you'd never have a chance to leave.

 

She took that as her time, hand gripping down on the handle-blade, pulling it out of her pocket as she spoke. "I'm not Sunshine, and I never will be." She hissed, the fear she had completely vanished--overridden by her anger; by her longing for a true family.

 

And that was what pushed the blade forward, plunging into Tobias's neck as blood spewed from the edges and the man holding her gasped. His hands shot up to his neck, one hand grabbing onto her wrist, eyes wide in fear and shock as his breaths came out labored.

 

She tried to pull her hand back as gunshots fired around her. From behind and in front-- a sniper and three others, was about all she could count. Tobias's grip held firm to her wrist though, crushing it as indents of his fingers bore into her skin. Blood leaking from his neck down his chest and arm. The thick, hot blood managing to curl in streaks down hers as well.

 

With as much force as she could apply, she pulled the knife out, kicking Tobias to the ground and loosening his grip on her wrist. She only allowed herself so long to stare at his struggling body, blood covering his clothes and darker skin, gasping for air and pleading for it to stop.

 

Cassandra didn't give him mercy.

 

The gunshots were getting too close to her, too loud, and far too much. She ducked for cover, seeing now that most of the other's had done so as well-- that is, on both sides.

 

Moonshade and Stormy were both lying lifeless on the ground, bullet holes in the brain and guns abandoned beside them. Karl was among them, two bullets through the chest and one as a final kill.

 

But all the others? They were still alive.

 

Cassandra didn't have a gun on her. She only had Ten Thousand's knife and her music box, so she tried to find her point of escape. The second she was out of there, the group could draw back as well.

 

The problem was, she was trapped. The bullets firing from every side, ricocheting in various directions, and pushing both groups to a stand-still in shooting. Even with Ten Thousand as a sniper in the back, or Mack, Warren, and Garnett as shooters from the front, the last few cannibals had points of cover. One of the men whistled, and Cassandra's heart stopped for a brief moment-- hoping Blake and Ten Thousand were protecting it.

 

She was relieved when nothing fired, but that didn't stop the cannibals from continuing on. 

 

They knew their home like the back of their hand. Even with her own knowledge, she wasn't sure how to stop the constant fire.

 

But by the end, she didn't have to. She ducked as a spray of bullets fired, the constant pounding of the 50-callibar machine gun firing from up on the platform.

 

--- line break---

 

Blake's POV:

 

Even from how high up she was, Blake could tell the fighting was getting brutal. She had been on the edge of her seat, nearly digging into her skin as she watched Tobias grab Cassandra or as Addy had been pulled back. There had been so many things to go wrong, and now was just one of them.

 

The cannibals had better hiding spots than Garnett, Warren, and Mack did. Blake had tried her luck at shooting some from behind, but even she knew she was worth shit at firing her pistol. Especially from this distance.

 

So she had taken to watching, her anxiety growing as she watched intently on the fight. Only a few cannibals had been killed-- courtesy of a few kills by 10K (who still she had no clue where he was).Her fear only spiked when Mack had ducked down quickly, causing her to worry he had been shot.

 

An image of the young girl back in Altura flashed through her mind, or the man whose face had been cut when 10K unwillingly fired at them. She pushed down the gruesome images of the young girl's bleeding throat, even when her eyes strayed to Tobias-- his situation the same, but all the more gruesome.

 

Her hands curled as she watched the group get nowhere, only managing to waste their ammo. She hadn't even heard the struggling behind her before a begging yell drew her attention.

 

She looked back to see the tied up cannibal struggling with his bondages, squirming to get out. Blake only rolled her eyes, looking away from the helpless man, and back towards the fight.

 

She had to help them somehow. There had to be some way for them to escape. Besides Murphy's ramming truck idea.

 

Her gaze was drawn over to the machine gun, and she couldn't help as a smirk lined her face. Blake rushed to the cannibal on the ground, removing the gag from his mouth, but all she got was him spitting in her face in return.

 

With disgust, she wiped it off, keeping herself from punching him in the face. "You know how to operate a machine gun, yeah?" She knew he did or else he wouldn't be up here.

 

"Bite me, bitch." He snarled, thrashing to move out from under her weight pressed down on him.

 

Oh, isn't he a fun one. She couldn't help but think sarcastically.

 

"Listen, bud. That's not my job." Refusing to punch him in the face, she gripped his earlobe instead, knowing it was still painful. "I'm not fond of speaking to a cannibal, but trust me, I've talked to way worse." Murphy to be exact. "Now you're gonna tell me how to work this thing or I'll find out myself."

 

Honestly, she wasn't too fond of that option.

 

The cannibal only grinned at her, refusing to speak another word.

 

She sighed, shoving the gag back in his mouth as she got up. "Useless." Blake muttered, making her way back to the machine gun.

 

Her hand ran along the cool metal, taking in a sharp breath. She gulped down nervously, pushing it away as she sat on the seat. "Always wanted to do this." That was a lie.

 

Ever since she saw this, she wanted to try it. Never in her life did she think she'd come up on one. Or a cannibal for that matter, but life is full of surprises.

 

Her hands hovered over the weapon, shifting so that she could look it all over. It looked almost like a rifle-- sort of…maybe. Blake wasn't so sure. Her main tactic was melee weapons, not long-range, and definitely not weapons like this. She took a shot in the dark though, grabbing onto the handles positioned on the side, checking to make sure there was linked belt ammo to fire, and taking a shaky breath.

 

"God please don't let me screw this up." With her quiet prayer, she pulled the trigger, the force jolting her back as the bullets sprayed onto the ground below.

 

She quickly drew her hand off the trigger, nearly throwing herself back at the rush of adrenaline she got-- barely hearing the cannibals' yelling and screaming from below.

 

With a quick, excited breather, she pushed herself back to the piece of arterially, smiling widely as she looked it over. "Hell yeah!" She laughed. "I need to get me one of these."

 

It was probably the only long-range weapon she was decent with.

 

Snapping out of her enlivened (but slightly lunatic) thoughts, she quickly looked back to check on the group, making sure she hadn't hurt any of them. They looked just as surprised as the cannibals, bewildered looks trained on the platform she was on, but the brief cease-fire didn't last long. The cannibals snapped out of it, firing back at the group, causing the shoot-out to continue.

 

As much as Blake hated to say it, she really wished the world would run out of bullets. Even twelve years in there had been enough for a war.

 

Blake gripped back onto the handles, finger hovering over the trigger as she tried her hardest to aim properly this time. "Alright." She breathed out, lining her gunfire with the ground in the cannibal base.

 

If she could kick up enough dust with her spray of bullets, she could possibly create a cloud of dust between the cannibals and the group. If, and that solely relied on Blake's ability to even aim properly, that happened, the dust barrier would allow the group a quick escape to get out.

 

Hands clutching tighter to the artillery piece, her plan figured out, she set her aim to the ground between the fence. "Let's kick up some dust."

 

--- line break----

 

Cassandra's POV:

 

Cassandra wasn't sure if she should be shocked with the turn of events or not. Blake firing a machine gun was-- nerve-racking to say the least. Regardless, she wasn't about to take a wasted opportunity when a dust cloud was created, trying to sneak her way around the RVs and out the front gate.

 

Problem was, that didn't work out so well.

 

The rapid spray of bullets didn't ease up, and the particular direction wasn't one Cassandra would want to bargain with. She knew that if she tempted fate, she'd end up as Swiss cheese the second she took the chance to run towards the gate. That included both Blake's tirade of exaggerate bullet fire, or the remaining cannibals' efforts at killing the group.

 

She didn't take the chance, falling back farther into the cannibal base-- the place she no longer called home-- dodging behind what she could so her previous family couldn't see her. She had a decent clue at where she could escape. If Tobias hadn't covered it up, there was the one at the back she had ran through a couple weeks or so ago. Cassandra also knew there was one up the hill, passing to the left of the machine gun and out the back.

 

It was a steeper and more challenging option, but if the first one was closed, she'd have to accept her choices.

 

With a shaky breath, she held herself against the RV, timing when she'd be out of the cannibals' wondering gaze through the dust cloud. Barely peering around the corner, she could see the few coughing and sputtering-- pulling their shirts up to cover their eyes from the kicked-up debris. She barely spared a glance at Tobias's mutilated body-- the bullets piercing through him like a target board. There was more than enough lining across his head in uneven patterns, the machine gun's work giving him the mercy of death rather than the life of a zombie.

 

She released her breath, dashing to the second RV farther to the corner where Mrs. Campbell sat. Cassandra knew that if she wanted to escape, she'd have to pass by the dining room, so with shaky legs, she slowly crept her way past.

 

The knife was still grasped tightly in her hand as her head spun in every direction, constantly on the look-out for wandering cannibals. She could only make it so far past the dining room though, no longer walking in the direction of the fence, but instead rooted in her spot as she stared at Mrs. Campbell.

 

The poor woman was still seated at the table, head fallen limp to her side as she stared at the wall in front of her. The candles still burned, but the extinguishing flame was much like Mrs. Campbell.

 

Helpless to keep going and slowly dying off.

 

With frantic looks to each side, seeing that no cannibals were coming her way, Cassandra crept up beside the woman, and as expected, getting no physical reaction. Cassandra blinked a few times, taking deep breaths to calm herself before walking to the side of the woman.

 

Mrs. Campbell had always been nice. Before she had gotten sick and before she had fallen into a catatonic state, Mrs. Campbell was like a mother to her.

 

Cassandra warily sat in the chair next to the unresponsive woman. She wasn't quite sure why she came up here. There was just something that said she couldn't leave Mrs. Campbell here. The woman couldn't do anything for herself and leaving her felt cruel-- just awaiting a terrible death, in all honesty.

 

Without the ability to move, Mrs. Campbell would get just eaten and turned into a zombie without being able to stop it. Without being able to move, to cry out in pain, to call for help.

 

Just lifeless in the face of reality.

 

"Hi…" Cassandra tried to smile towards the woman who had acted like a mother. The woman that had helped her cope with losing her own family. The woman that had helped to keep her from killing herself to end all the pain. The now unresponsive mother-like figure who had given her the music box when Cassandra needed something to help stay calm.

 

Mrs. Campbell blinked, more rapidly than usual, and Cassandra couldn't help but wonder what was going through the older woman's mind. When being unable to do anything physically, could the woman do anything mentally?

 

Tobias had always talked for his wife. He had always said that "Mama liked you.", and "Mama wouldn't want it to be that way." She always thought that Tobias projected his thoughts onto his withdrawn wife just to get his point across. That Mrs. Campbell's thoughts were not the same as her husband's.

 

Where she was immobile physically, her own mental thoughts couldn't even be conveyed without horrid change by the person she loved.

 

Cassandra repressed the ill thoughts, still trying to smile kindly towards the woman, grabbing her hands and pulling them together with hers. "I know it's been a while." She whispered. Cassandra wasn't sure if she should feel ashamed for leaving the woman here by herself with the cannibals. There hadn't been much option and Cassandra wasn't quite sure how she would keep Mrs. Campbell alive.

 

"I'm finally free." Going to be--soon. With people you always talked about. Like Jenna and Mark. All the good people you loved telling me about.

 

Cassandra couldn't tell whether she imagined it, but it was almost as if a ghost of a smile twitched on the emotionless face of Mrs. Campbell. Tears welled up in Cassandra's eyes, watching the woman, not knowing what was right or best to do.

 

"I want you to be too." Her voice cracked, even with how low she kept it, her own smile falling in fear and grief. She wanted to set Mrs. Campbell free from the body that imprisoned her mind. The body that prohibited further movement other than the necessities. Other than breathing, opening her mouth to eat, to drink, for her heart to beat that was slowly perishing each day that went by.

 

It was almost like a miracle to feel Mrs. Campbell's hands squeeze with only as much strength as she could muster. Reassurance. Cassandra understood, taking a deep breath and using her free hand to wipe a stray tear that fell down her face. She tried to form another smile-- one that she needed and hoped Mrs. Campbell noticed.

 

"Thank you." Cassandra breathed it out so quietly, even with under a small laugh, she wasn't sure Mrs. Campbell caught it.

 

Instead of reaching for the knife that lay rested on the table, or the gun with a silencer on the shelf behind, Cassandra fiddled in her jacket for the music box, feeling the pressure of the familiar weight vanish as she held it in her hand.

 

She briefly started at it. The music box was such a simple design-- and old design too, as Mrs. Campbell had recounted to her. Going on from generation to generation in the woman's family. It was a simple wind-up music box-- a faded gold turnkey on the outside, the motor wrapped in metal dangling from the sliver beaded chain. No matter how old, used, or destroyed, it held something dear to both Cassandra and Mrs. Campbell.

 

Cassandra wrapped the chain around her hand, placing it into Mrs. Campbell's hands with a gentle squeeze. Slowly, she unwrapped the chain, twisting it around Mrs. Campbell's instead.

 

Ever since she ran away, Cassandra had kept the music box on her for a need of sanity protection. One that she kept with her to remind her of a feeling of previous safety before Black Summer. When she had kicked Travis off the catwalk back at the Refinery, she had thrown it down.

 

It wasn't that she started to feel a disdain towards it because it was now a reminder of the cannibals. She threw it down (no matter the safety it held to her) as a symbol. That she was leaving her old past behind to start a new one.

 

Blake, however, had retrieved it and brought it back to Cassandra-- only reminding her more that she couldn't ever escape her past. But now being back, finally killing the man who had caused her pain and torture, and finally being able to say she was free-- there was one last person she needed to fulfil.

 

The woman was her unrelated mother, raising her from 18 years old. She wrapped the music box in the hand of Mrs. Campbell because she was the last part of her past that she was leaving behind, and Mrs. Campbell deserved the safety of the music box in her last moments and thereafter.

 

But even as these thoughts ran throughout Cassandra's mind, Mrs. Campbell squeezed her hands again. Cassandra stopped, looking from the music box to the woman's eyes.

 

When she never understood what Mrs. Campbell was trying to say after she got sick-- now was the only time she ever could.

 

Keep it.

 

It was like the woman she remembered. Gentle smile, kind touch, lacing her fingers with Cassandra's to tell her it was all okay. For a split second, it was like she had her back.

 

But it was gone all too quickly, and even though Cassandra wished to have the mother she remembered, she knew it would never come. Mrs. Campbell was gone and had suffered too long.

 

Unwinding the music box's chain from Mrs. Campbell's hand, she held them together, staring into the woman's emotionless eyes one last time.

 

She swallowed with grief, placing her forehead to the woman's as their noses were only inches apart. Hating, but knowing it was the right thing to do, her hand reached for the gun tucked on the shelf behind. Her hands shook, barely able to hold onto the weapon as she placed it to the side of Mrs. Campbell's head.

 

Cassandra noticed the woman had closed her eyes, and she could see a small, undistinguishable smile creep on her face. Peace. Mrs. Campbell felt at peace.

 

Cassandra closed her eyes as well, gripping tightly to the music box and Mrs. Campbell's hand with her left, hand shaking with her right as tears freely flowed down her cheeks.

 

"Thank you, Mama." She pulled the trigger, flinching at the click as Mrs. Campbell fell limp against her-- the peaceful smile lining her face; her hands falling out of Cassandra's grasp.

 

"I give you mercy."

 

--- line break ---

 

Cassandra was quick to get out after gently setting Mrs. Campbell against the seat. She had left the gun behind-- not for the need to remain, but because it didn't have any ammo left, and would be extra weight to carry if she had to climb up the hill.

 

Her hand gripped tightly around the music box once more, letting her attention slip down to it for a brief moment.

 

She had thought that she would leave it behind as a symbol of finally freeing herself from her old life. Now, staring at it, she knew that her past would never leave her. She had once been a cannibal, and she could say and do nothing to change the fact that she had tasted human flesh on her tongue.

 

No. She kept the music box now as a reminder that her old life was left behind, but it started a new life for her. If she had never been a cannibal, and if she never ran away, she would have never meant Warren, Addy, Garnett, Doc, Mack, Blake, Murphy, or Ten Thousand. No matter her levels of trust and distrust with them, they were her new life, and if it hadn't been for the past, she could never have this future.

 

So the music box stayed as she shoved it into her pant pocket.

 

She drew her attention up, wiping another tear that started to run down her face. Cassandra hated how much she had cried today. She hated how she let herself be so vulnerable-- yelling, pleading, begging, crying. She wanted to be strong, fearless, able to face a situation head on without flinching. She thought she had built herself to be that person, but today had taken it out of her, and she couldn't be strong no matter how much she wanted to.

 

Grabbing her knife now, she slowly crept closer to the fence, hoping that Tobias left it uncovered. She knew it would be false hope, but if anything, she had to check.

 

Her breathing had finally evened out, but her tear tracked face was red and sore, and Cassandra couldn't express how much of a disdain she held for the feeling. She didn't try to rub it off though, instead keeping her focus forward as she crept from RV to RV.

 

Barely had she been able to turn a corner before she heard some of the cannibals yelling, cussing at one another, and gunfire up ahead. She drew back, refusing to look around the corner to where she supposed the close voices were. That being said, after a minute or so, and as the voices trekked farther to her right rather than her front, she decided to peek a glance to see what she'd have to deal with.

 

Turned out, it wasn't a big threat to her, specifically. Not that she thought, at least.

 

Instead, Ten Thousand was creeping his way quietly throughout the base, rifle raised as he quickly checked all around him. Cassandra assumed he got stuck in here too. How, baffled her. She thought he was supposed to stay with Blake by the machine gun, but it looked like he had other motives.

 

He hadn't spotted her yet as he started to make his way to the corner she was behind. Even though Cassandra knew she wouldn't be able to tell him to stop without moving around the corner and hoping he didn't shoot right away, she opted for more or less of a sane decision.

 

Sneaking up on people in the apocalypse was bad. Pinning them to a wall with a weapon was bad. Getting chased by cannibals was worse. Add those together, and Cassandra knew she wasn't going to get a pretty reaction.

 

She tried to trust her own ability though.

 

The second he had come close to rounding the corner, and the moment the cannibals' voices started to become closer, Cassandra had taken her chance. She grabbed Ten Thousand's shoulders, pushing his rifle to the ground as she pinned him against the wall. For safe measures, (in case he turned out to be a threat to her with all his stalking) she pushed her knife close to his neck-- the same as she had done to Mack the day they had saved her from the cage.

 

In that split moment, Ten Thousand hadn't realized it was her. His reaction was almost immediate, grabbing her wrist and pushing it away from his neck. Given her light hold, it was easy, however, him managing to push her against the wall instead came as a surprise.

 

Despite the fact that she had him pinned previously, Ten Thousand now held her against the wall. The knife he had given her was now back in his hand holding the blade against her side as his other hand pushed her against the wall. Although his actions looked as if he were about to attack her, Cassandra couldn't say his motives aligned.

 

The confusion on his face was evident, as was her shock and fear. She wasn't afraid he would hurt her, not with how his facial expressions conveyed, but the cool blade that had previously been pushed against her side sparked her fear of the cannibals and her time here again.

 

She pushed the fear down as Ten Thousand released his grip on her, backing up a tad as he peeked around the corner, checking to make sure no one had heard. Not that they had made much sound, Cassandra knew that, but one could never be too sure.

 

Cassandra took a breath, calming herself from the reaction she expected, but hoped wouldn't happen. Ten Thousand had given her the moment to breathe, but she could see the questions lingering through his eyes.

 

Knowing she couldn't speak aloud, she put her finger to her mouth, telling him that they had to be silent before pointing to the fence farthest from them. Swiftly, he turned that way, almost immediately understanding her goal as he nodded his head.

 

Just glad that they could be on the same page to get out, she nodded, checking her surrounding to make sure no one was around. Finding that it was clear, she nodded her head towards him again, telling that they could make their way forward.

 

Besides finding Ten Thousand efficient at killing zombies, Cassandra had to admit that his ability to quietly sneak from location to location was sometimes far and few when it came to some survivors. If Cassandra had to point fingers at the few, Blake and Murphy would be on her list.

 

Then again, despite what Ten Thousand was good at, she couldn't help but worry he would use that against the group. Again, always watching and worrying (as Doc had said) about her was odd, to say the least. She couldn't figure Ten Thousand out, but right now, sneaking through the cannibals' base, her previous home, was not the time to do so.

 

They hadn't ducked as much as Cassandra had been. Instead, they had taken to sprinting, weapons raised as they tried to kept alert and cautious, but get out as quick as possible. The method worked decently, and they managed to make it closer to the fence, but Cassandra knew they wouldn't get out that easily.

 

She heard Bernt and Samuel's voices closer than they were before, and she couldn't help but panic, knowing they were about to get caught or already had been caught.

 

In a swift movement, she had pulled Ten Thousand into the closest shelter, pushing past the rugs and towels, hoping that it would conceal them from her previous family's eyes.

 

The room was dark and the air was all too stiff. The smell of flesh and the metallic taste of blood was too prominent that Cassandra couldn't help but quickly turn her attention around the shelter. Without being able to see properly, Cassandra knew exactly where she pulled them into.

 

Right where the victims are.

 

She tried to push down every horrid memory she had of the place, focusing her attention through the little cracks in the rugs, looking through the fracture that the few rays of light poured into as they were overshadowed by the cannibals' frames.

 

Cassandra took in a deep breath through her nostrils, holding it in for what felt like forever as the cannibals lingered around where they were hiding.

 

"That bitch killed him! That's what happened."

 

She couldn't make out who was yelling, their voices all jumbling together as her hand gripped tighter around her knife, causing her knuckles turned white.

 

"…And Mother?" That voice was quieter, ceasing the yelling for a quick moment before an outburst of anger was yelled in reply.

 

"Dead! They're both dead!" There was a pause, and with Cassandra's attention focused on the cannibals at the front, she missed Ten Thousand backing up farther into the shelter.

 

"I want to find her, and I want her dead!!" One of the men yelled, and what she could make out from his form was that he was pointing violently at some of the others as they all spoke their own minds.

 

Everything else was incoherent after as they yelled and argued, stomping, yelling and running to go look for her. By that time, as Cassandra turned around, it was already too late to tell Ten Thousand to stop. His foot had already slipped against one of the rugs, pulling his curiosity to what was behind it as he slowly pushed back the rug.

 

Her telling him not to fell dead on her lips as he walked into the room. She knew he smelled the blood and meaty flesh torn open. It was different than rotting flesh, one that everyone smelled nowadays, but what it implied was now even more terrifying than zombies.

 

She couldn't stop him as he went into the room. The red light was already on, and the bodies were already swaying, pleading their muffled cries from their mouths that were stitched shut.

 

Cassandra quickly followed him into the room, the breath she was holding in before turning into a gasp as she looked at all her previous victims. Glancing around in horror to all those that she had eaten alive.

 

She dared a glance over at Ten Thousand, watching as his eyes widened in shock, taking a small step back in fear. There was no verbal reaction, and only a tiny bit more of a physical one, but Cassandra had enough sense about her to see the horror linger in his eyes.

 

His hand twitched to his side, gripping his rifle as his breathing came out slightly more erratic than before. Cassandra pulled her gaze away from him, knowing now that they-- that he-- was seeing her as the true monster she had always saw herself to be. Just watching the very alive forms of human beings' cry and plead in fear as their bodies were wrapped in bandages; As their appendages were cut from limb to limb to be cooked. It caused tears to well up in her eyes and bile to rise in the back of her throat.

 

Everything she was; everything that she had been through in the apocalypse and everything she tried to leave behind-- it was all right out in front of her, and the disgust and fear it brought was unbearable.

 

"I never wanted this." She croaked out, shaking her head as she felt Ten Thousand's eyes fall on her for a split second.

 

Cassandra didn't know why she had to blurt that out. It wasn't like she had to justify herself to a stranger. Despite this being her past, this wasn't who she was going to continue to be, and slowly she was making peace with it. They couldn't judge her because they didn't have to go through the hell she had been through. In the apocalypse, choice depended on staying alive, and if any of them were given the option to starve and turn or eat another human being-- she would bet at least most of them would do anything to stay alive.

 

For one last hope. One last redemption. Just to say that one day there would be peace after all the horror.

 

"We…" It almost startled her to hear him speak, despite how quiet Ten Thousand's voice was. "We should leave."

 

Agreed. Regardless of the slow peace she was making with her past choices, Cassandra wasn't sure how much longer she could stay here. And that exempted the cannibals lurking around looking for her.

 

She took a slow step back. Her and Ten Thousand were barely able to turn before the muffled cries begged louder. Ten Thousand abruptly turned around, head snapping around to each of the men as they pleaded. Their voices becoming louder and louder-- the fear and pain only more inescapable.

 

They couldn't make out what the tied up victims were trying to say, but Cassandra knew the longer they stayed here and the louder the men got, the less time they had before the cannibals found them.

 

Her white knuckled fists gripped even tighter around the handle of the knife as Ten Thousand took a step forward-- still trying to decipher what was being yelled.

 

After a moment, it was more than clear.

 

"Mercy."

 

"Give me mercy."

 

"Mercy!"

 

"I just want to die."

 

"Kill me!"

 

The chanting of the repeated phrase caused Cassandra's breath to be caught in her throat again, hearing the victims cry out in pain for their own deaths. For their own lives to be ended.

 

She backed up some, the bile only rising higher as she tried to swallow it down. She refused to let the tears form in her eyes, she refused to be weak again. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, watching as Ten Thousand took in the appalling scene of survivor's begging for their death.

 

He didn't look back towards her, and after a passing moment of Ten Thousand taking shaky breaths as his gaze lingered around the red lit room, he swiftly slid his knife out of his pocket, holding it in his hand for a brief second before making his way forward.

 

He was going to provide them mercy.

 

Her veins felt like ice as she watched him take quivering steps over to the quieting victims. It was like a wave of peace washed over them-- the same way it had with Mrs. Campbell when she learned she would finally be free from this God-forsaken earth. Cassandra's heart raced at the thought of killing all these people-- so many people-- just to provide them with mercy.

 

It was horrifying, but, in a sense, relieving to know she wouldn't leave them here to suffer to the few cannibals' hands.

 

Her tense hands released slightly on the knife, walking over to the men dangling from the chains to the roof of the shelter. Ten Thousand was to the side of her, frozen in his spot as he stared down to the closed-eyed victim.

 

The sniper was hesitant, and for a second, Cassandra could see the fear and horrified look in his eyes. She could almost make out a dark shadow that lined his face as if he was pulled back into repressed memories.

 

But he buried it too quickly, shifting his attention to her as if to question if they were actually mercying every single tortured man in the room.

 

Cassandra was afraid to give him an answer. She was afraid to say yes, but knew it was wrong to say no. Her gaze turned to the man hanging in front of her. Even with his lips sewn shut, his arms tied around his body, and his limp legs swaying mid-air, she could see the man that had reappeared in her nightmares.

 

John.

 

The flashing scene of the taser, his yelling, the fear she had right in that moment and the pain following thereafter-- it was enough to make her blink it away, turning back towards Ten Thousand as she nodded her head.

 

This had to be done. They couldn't just leave them here. They had to give them mercy.

 

And they did.

 

Every time one of their knifes sliced through a victim's head; every time they would take their last breath; every single time the victims looked as if they were finally at rest, the zombie apocalypse only seemed to become more horrifying than it already was.

 

Because they were murdering humans, but it was to keep them for the torture that would follow if they hadn't.

 

Pre-Z, Cassandra never would have fathomed shoving a bloody blade into a person's brain, hearing the squish of the flesh and the brute force it took to break through the skull. But now, the apocalypse standards held no meaning to the life she was living three years ago.

 

Their hands were bloody, minds too slow to fully comprehend the situation as they shakily headed from one person to the next. By the last person Cassandra had to give mercy to, their reaction was far different from the rest.

 

The man tied to the table violently shook his head, muffled yelling that bubbled from the back of his throat as his eyes shone with fear. There was no peace or longing.

 

He didn't want to die.

 

She drew the bloody knife back quickly, looking over to Ten Thousand who had noticed what was going on. The victims left to him had all been given mercy as he quickly made his way over, bending down to cut the straps holding the victim to the table.

 

Cassandra did the same, hearing the relieving snap of the bonds as the victim squirmed to be free. She had gotten to the last one on his leg before she noticed the protruding bone and red-stained wrap around the amputated limb.

 

Damn it.

 

She pushed herself off the floor, looking down towards the man's missing foot as Ten Thousand followed her line of vision. Whatever reaction he had, Cassandra hadn't seen it. Instead, she felt the movement of the man being lifted off the table by the sniper, and Ten Thousand holding the victim steady.

 

He slung the man's arm over his shoulder, barely picking up his gaze to look at Cassandra's nervous and questioning one.

 

"I got him." His eyes shifted to the rug covered entrance. "You lead the way."

 

Lead the way. Cassandra hoped the cannibals weren't guarding the way they were heading.

 

She nodded, the sticky blood drying to her hand and handle of the knife as she clutched it in her grasp. She heard Ten Thousand practically drag the victim, slowly making his way behind her as she peered out the crack in the rug.

 

No one was around. She couldn't hear or see any of the cannibals, so taking that as a sign to move now she held the rug open slightly so they all could exit.

 

Ten Thousand provided support for the hopping man most of the way to the fence, and to Cassandra's luck, Tobias had only covered a board over the hole she had cut.

 

Today was a nightmare, but at least this was one thing she could say that helped make it less traumatic.

 

With sticky hands, she pried the board off the fence, disregarding the splinters as she squeezed through the cut hole.

 

It's not like last time. You have somewhere to go. There are people waiting for you.

 

She helped the older victim through, trying to keep the blood that was running through her fingers out of the man's graying hair. With a brief moment of holding the man steady, Ten Thousand took the older victim back, and as quickly as they could, the three of them made their way towards the meet up location.

 

Even as they got closer to where the group was waiting, the thought of what they were going to do with the victim hadn't even crossed her mind, and it ceased to as she kept guard looking down each alleyway.

 

Their footsteps were louder as the victim's hop echoed throughout the eerily silent alleyway. But the disturbance of the zombies and cannibals only lasted for so long as the pounding of footsteps behind and the shouting drew closer.

 

"There they are!"

 

She knew it was the cannibals, but unlike earlier today, she couldn't run. She turned back around, seeing Ten Thousand try to quicken his pace with the victim, refusing to leave the man behind as the cannibals ran up to them.

 

But her previous family was catching up.

 

With one in front and two behind, the cannibals had Ten Thousand, the victim and her blocked. Slowly, like predators on their prey, they started to close in, that corrupt smile lining their faces as the taser clicked in Samuel's hand.

 

"Well, well, well Sunshine. Have we got new friends?" It was Samuel leading the pack, taking careful steps towards them like they already won, and Cassandra was having a hard time deciphering if that were true or not.

 

 "Yeah." She cleared her throat, that façade of bravery she tried to portray becoming her cover. " 'Other friends of lower morals', right?"

 

She could see the anger twitch on his face, the reminder that she had killed Travis as well.

 

But that anger dissipated just as quickly, a bubbling laugh mixed within a scoff shining through.

 

"You should have never done that. Tobias was the only thing that was protecting you from us."

 

She knew it was true. Tobias wouldn't let them hurt her-- siblings, family as he called them. Now that she killed him, there was nothing holding the infuriated, deranged cannibals back.

 

Samuel's eyes briefly flickered behind her towards Ten Thousand who was still supporting the victim.

 

"Wouldn't mind taking back what's ours…and then some." The way his voice dropped lower and the grin only grew further, Cassandra couldn't help but shiver at the fact of what it meant.

 

She would be tortured bait and the other two would be tortured victims spared of no life other than tied down to a table and the feeling of a knife tearing pieces of their flesh off.

 

The space between them and the cannibals was only getting smaller as her hand tightened around the knife. She wouldn't go back there. She told Mama that she was free and she would keep to that.

 

As Merchant made an advance on her, she had shoved him back, only able to puncture the knife below his shoulder blade. He threw her off, a yell of pain escaping his lips as his hand caught her wrist, pulling her towards him. Merchant's hand was around her throat as Samuel came from the front, the taser clicking as the electricity surged around the middle.

 

She tried to kick him away, barely seeing the victim fall out of Ten Thousand's hold. The sniper nearly managed to raise his rifle, managing to shoot Bernt in the leg right before a punch was delivered to Ten Thousand's face.

 

He fell to the ground as Bernt cried in pain, but it didn't stop Samuel from his goal, pushing past her kicking as the taser shocked her neck.

 

He did it again and again, but she couldn't feel it anymore. It was only a light sting compared to the hand grabbing her throat. She was able to kick Merchant in the balls, causing him to whimper in pain before Samuel lunged at her. By that time, Ten Thousand had already gotten up, grabbing Samuel from the back as he tackled him to the ground.

 

The gunshot, yelling, and crying in pain was enough to attract nearby zombies. The Zs swarmed around the corner, attacking Bernt who was shot in the leg and the victim who was missing a leg.

 

Cassandra blocked out their screams as Merchant grabbed her ankle, pulling her down as she fell to the hard asphalt below. Her splintered, bloody hands collided against he ground as her knees scraped against the grainy rock. Merchant took her pain into his favor, pulling himself on top of her and pinning her to the ground.

 

She thrashed under his weight, throwing her head back slightly to see Ten Thousand struggle under Samuel. Samuel already had the taser back in his hand, pushing it against Ten Thousand's neck as he choked in a breath, throwing his head against the ground below him.

 

And when Samuel didn't ease up on the shock, the cannibal on top of her didn't stop digging his fingers into the scars lining her arms. She cried in pain among Ten Thousand's whimpering, attracting another zombie over from its feast. The Z tumbled on top of Merchant, pushing him off of Cassandra and to the ground beside her.

 

She barely allowed herself to recuperate before she was back on her feet, shoving Samuel off of Ten Thousand and stabbing the knife that she had picked up once again into Samuel's side.

 

He fell to the ground as Cassandra quickly helped Ten Thousand up. He swayed on his feet, having a hard time holding himself up as Cassandra pulled out her music box. She winded it up, letting the music play for a short period of time to attract the zombies over to a struggling Samuel. He could barely pull himself up before the zombies swarmed him, teeth tearing into his flesh as he cried out in pain.

 

They didn't have time to watch. She let the music box dangle from one hand, pulling Ten Thousand with the other as they tried to run as fast as they could. The zombies caught up to them though, one grabbing Cassandra by the hood of her jacket as Ten Thousand tried with his limited strength to snipe the ones that were getting too close.

 

He couldn't get a shot on the one whose cold, rotting hands griped her hair and hood. Without much thought, she struggled to get loose from its grip, pulling her gray jacket off and leaving it to the zombie's grasp.

 

"Come on!" She pulled Ten Thousand forward, both of them sprinting down the alleyways trying to get to the group and away from the hoard of zombies.

 

--- line break ---

 

Blake's POV:

 

The adrenaline coursing through her body left her feeling as if she was the queen atop the mountain, but once having a (slightly distorted) visual of Mack, Warren, and Garnett rushing back to the trucks, Blake eased on her rapid fire, using what was left of the linked ammo.

 

It was fun, and Blake couldn't say she wanted to leave it, but she had other priorities other than operating a 50-caliber machine gun. She pried herself off the piece of artillery, pushing herself off and down towards the platform.

 

Now it was time to leave.

 

She left Murphy alone with the group for far too long.

 

Blake was barely able to get her footing back on the platform before a gun was sloppily aimed against her side and the rope from the cannibal she had tied up was around her neck.

 

"Would've been better if you'd been paying attention to your surroundings, huh?" He jeered, trying to shove the gun against her side but the rope against his hands kept him from moving much farther.

 

"Damn." She breathed out. "Thought I tied you up better."

 

The rope that had held his feet together was abandoned on the ground. Previously,  Blake had thought she had been decent at tying knots, but the cannibal's ability to escape proved her wrong.

 

The cannibal laughed, not because what she said was funny, but because of the upper hand he had. For the time. Blake may be shit at guns, and she may be shitter at doing much of anything else, but having to go on runs with Garnett and Warren and being a part of the Risen helped in hand to hand combat.

 

The gun was already poorly aimed against her side, so she took that into her advantage, elbowing the man in the stomach and simultaneously pushing the gun away from her. The bullet hit the wood below her feet, far too close for her liking.

 

Okay. Not like in the movies. Got it.

 

With the wind knocked out of the cannibal, she freed herself from the rope hanging between his arms, ducking under it and pushing the man to the ground. He tumbled some as the pistol fell out of his hands. Blake took the opportunity, retrieving the fallen gun and aiming it at the cannibal breathing heavily on the ground.

 

"You know, guns aren't my thing, but being this close, I won't have any problem pulling the trigger."

 

The cannibal raised his hands in defense, believing that any sudden move he made was bound to get him shot. She didn't waver on holding the pistol above him, pointing it towards his head, but her inner thoughts felt like a war.

 

She knew she couldn't let the cannibal go. Letting him go meant she released the cannibal back out into the world, but she couldn't kill him. It was like if Cassandra was in this position-- if the girl had never left. She would just be fighting for her life, praying that she wouldn't get shot, and trying to stay alive in this messed up world.

 

The cannibal below her, Blake couldn't tell if he had remorse towards eating people like Cassandra had. The way he looked at her, glared at her, she couldn't tell if he did it because he didn't care, or he wanted to look strong and fearless against her.

 

Blake grinded her teeth together, brashly sighing as she glared down at him.

 

It was like she was back in the same scene again; fighting against Blends who didn't have a choice. Now, she couldn't tell if the man in front of her wanted to finally escape or hoped to continue on enjoying cannibalism.

 

"Do it." He wheezed out, causing Blake to draw in a breath, remembering Murphy telling her to do the same. "You've already gotten this far."

 

But she didn't believe in excessive killing. Not without a purpose, but not for a twisted sense of freedom either.

 

She dug her heel into the cannibal's chest, causing him to rasp in pain.

 

"Where I come from, only a few get a choice." Everyone else had been left to the Risen's or Murphy's regime. Removing her heel from his chest, she kicked him in the side-- not gently, but not as harsh as she wanted to.

 

"Make it count."

 

His smile reminded her of Travis's. The grin that looked happy, but had a sick idea behind it.

 

"Oh, I will."

 

Cassandra hadn't told them much about the cannibals. All she had said about the one who used the machine gun was that he was trained Pre-Z, and knew how to properly use it. Merchant, Blake recalled, was the name she had called him.

 

With the gun she had taken off of him, she motioned for him to get up, as Merchant complied. Blake hadn't even let him stand properly before the gun was placed against the temple of his head, but he didn't show any fear towards her.

 

"You ever try to eat people again, and I will hunt down your ass." She warned, pushing the gun harder. "And, if you even think about coming after us-- coming after Cassandra," She emphasized. "I won't hesitate to let you walk with the living dead-- without mercy."

 

As much as he could, Merchant nodded. Still wary of taking a cannibal's word, she nodded, removing the gun from his temple.

 

"I'll be watching." The Risen always do.

 

The smile never faded as he slowly backed away from her, and her glare never stopped piercing him. If she ever saw or found out he had hurt any of the group, she'd see herself back to going back in time to personally kill him. God, there was times she was in favor of choice, and other times where she would rather end the problem before it started.

 

Blake walked a thin line in beliefs, and it was hard to balance on from time to time.

 

She watched him wonder off, barely sparing her a carefree, delighted glance before he disappeared around the corner. Blake took that as her time to go, rushing down off the platform and finding it was easier to climb over and down the barbed wire fence rather than up and over.

 

She rushed back to the group as quick as she humanly could, getting a glimpse of Addy leaning against Mack, laughing at something Murphy had said (surprisingly). Warren was near the driver's door, Garnett and Doc at the front of the truck. 10K and Cassandra though, neither were in her sights.

 

She slowed her pace, glancing into the tinted windows for the two, but neither were there.

 

"Well, here she comes." Doc announced her presence, but at this point, Blake didn't really care. The fact that the two were gone (both of which who had been in the cannibal's base) were missing from the group. She looked up towards Murphy who sat in the truck bed, and she could see his eyes widen in realization as his head snapped in all direction.

 

"Wouldn't have thought you'd fire the machine gun." Mack laughed slightly, wrapping his arms around Addy's shoulders.

 

"Sure surprised me." Garnett replied, and Blake couldn't help but wonder why it was only her and Murphy worrying about Cassandra and 10K's well-being.

 

"I think what they're trying to say is, thanks for not hitting us." Warren gave a playful glare to the few joking around, but her attention quickly snapped over towards Blake, eyeing her when she noticed the mood change.

 

"Where's Cassandra and 10K?" Blake looked around the group, praying that they wouldn't tell her one of them (or both of them) were dead. It had been death fright after death fright all day, and Blake wasn't sure she could handle the reality that one of the deaths had happened.

 

"I thought 10K was with you." Warren's gaze lingered over Blake before turning to the others. Garnett shrugged his shoulders, the light mood shifting back towards the unsettling tone.

 

"Cassandra said she'd sneak out the back." He looked around, eyebrows scrunching as Garnett turned his attention back towards the group. "I thought she'd be back by now."

 

Oh God. Blake couldn't say that news was any better.

 

Blake hadn't thought she had hit them-- any of the actually. The fact that they hadn't come back only scared her into the fact that maybe she had been too reckless. Maybe one of them had been hit, or even trapped by the cannibals that she hadn't hit.

 

She swallowed nervously, taking a step forward only to be stopped by Garnett.

 

"Woah--hey." Garnett held her in place, staring down towards her with his eyebrows raised.

 

"They could be back there. I could have-" She stopped herself, trying to calm her breathing. She had tried to be as careful as she could to create the dust cloud. They shouldn't have been close, but that didn't exempt anything else from getting to them. Cannibals, zombies; Blake couldn't leave the two back there and fail her mission any more than she already had.

 

She saw the other's side-eye her, while Murphy stood up in the truck bed, looking around as if he would be able to find them in that moment.

 

"Hold on a second." Garnett tried to calm her, giving her a gentle squeeze with his firm grasp on her shoulder. "We're not gonna leave them behind. They said they'll meet us back here. If they're not back soon, we'll go look for them." Despite his reassurances, Blake couldn't help but fear.

 

They're wasting time.

 

It was funny that with time travel, time was merely at her finger tips, but she had to use it appropriately.

 

 Regardless, she had listened to him, propping herself against the tailgate of the truck as Addy and Mack sat inside the truck-- the door wide open as Addy leaned out, trying to brush the makeup off with a dry towel; water being too precious to use that carelessly.

 

Doc and Murphy sat in the truck bed, Murphy's occasional glare falling down towards her ever once in a while. It felt like minutes had passed as they waited for them, and she could tell it was riding on Murphy's nerves. He didn't look irritated, but the look of worry in his eyes was…offsetting.

 

She wasn't sure what Murphy's relationship was with Cassandra, no Risen files of that, but she did know that 10K and Murphy weren't too close. Ever. Then again, after 10K, Warren, Addy and Doc found out they were unwillingly Murphy's Blends, Blake was sure the idea of friends had been thrown out the window for all of them.

 

But here and now, it was baffling to see a true caring in Murphy's eyes-- throwing Blake off on her early perception on what the man's relationship and thoughts of the group were.

 

She didn't have much time to dwell on it though as Mack impatiently hit the aluminum roof of the truck, looking over to Warren and Garnett.

 

"How much longer are we waiting for them?"

 

Blake knew Mack wasn't an asshole, no matter the times it sounded like it. There were a few people he trusted, and throughout his life, Blake could understand why. Cassandra and 10K were no more than strangers to him right now, and all he cared about was keeping those he did know safe. The way he tended to portray it ended up coming off entirely different than what he meant.

 

"Not much." Warren muttered, getting a look of shock from, not only Blake and Murphy, but Addy and Doc as well.

 

"We're not leaving them." Addy defended, dropping the towel to her lap as she looked over at Warren.

 

"No." Warren agreed, holstering her gun as she opened the driver's door. "We're not."

 

"So, we're going back to where the cannibals are?" Mack questioned, leaning against the headrest of the seat so he was closer to Warren. "We just got out of there. Going back is just looking for trouble."

 

Garnett nodded, holding the door open right before Warren was going to slam it to start up the pickup truck.

 

"He's got a point." Blake could see Warren glare at Garnett, but he didn't back down. "Let's wait a few more minutes. Just to be sure we're not heading back to a definite fight."

 

Blake heard Murphy grumble, shaking his head. "We've already waited long enough! If we wait any longer, they'll be dead." He yelled, but the two leaders ignored him, much like everyone else.

 

Blake didn't forget to count that under some of Murphy's good intentions though. She only counted because possibly it could fall under a greater scheme of his manipulation.

 

She could hear a bigger argument on what should happen start, but it stopped all too quickly as the snarling of zombies and pounding off feet echoed their way. Blake barely had enough time to draw her gaze up before she saw a horde making their way closer to the truck-- Cassandra and 10K leading in a sprint.

 

"Here they come!" Doc yelled, helping to pull 10K into the truck bed as Cassandra hopped in through the open door Addy had. Blake swiftly pulled herself up, no thanks to Murphy who watched her struggle, barely even able to pull the tailgate up as Warren stepped on the gas, letting Garnett enough time to hop in the passenger's side.

 

Blake breathed a sigh of relief, watching as the pack of zombies fell farther and farther away from the speeding truck down Philadelphia's streets.

 

She didn't even bargain with writing in her notebook, figuring she'd do it at night when the day's wackiness was said and done with. Running a hand through her ginger hair, she looked over towards 10K who sat next to Doc, rubbing his hands together. She could make out the pieces of dried blood peeling off his hands, but she couldn't tell if it was his or not.

 

He refused to look towards any of them anyways.

 

Murphy picked up on it too, scrunching his eyebrows at the boy. Obviously, that was new. What it entitled, Blake wanted to know, but was afraid to.

 

The back window glass of the pickup was broken, allowing Blake a clear view of what was happening inside. If anything, it was as silent as it was in the truck bed. Cassandra was leaned up against Addy-- the two reeling over their shared trauma with the cannibals as Garnett looked out the window, staring at the Liberty Bell that had a crushed zombie struggling underneath.

 

"If anybody asks, we were nowhere near that bell." He muttered, eyes following the bell before they turned the corner.

 

If anybody asks, Blake repeated, we were nowhere near close to Philadelphia.

 

Another place in her notebook to mark down as a hell-scape to never travel to again-- going back in time or not.

Notes:

Okay…that was a trip. I'm not exactly sure what Mrs. Campbell's (Mother as the Z-Nation Wiki states) and Cassandra's relationship was. I might have exaggerated it into a more mother-daughter when it wasn't. Just a theory of what I thought they're relationship would be.

Anyhow, the music box holds more importance and meaning this time around too. Influenced by the fact that if Cassandra hadn't thrown it down in Fracking Zombies, what would the original meaning be?

Also, in season five episode 10, State of Mine, there is somebody there that I hadn't even known was a part of the episode. I mean, I knew he looked familiar, but I didn't think it was him. I thought Tobias had died with the victims and zombies, but turns out, in season five, we see him again working for Roman Estes. Spoiler Warning: he finally ends up meeting his fate at the end of the episode.

Coming Soon:
Full Metal Zombie Remake (Part One)

Chapter 15: Full Metal Zombie Remake (Part One)

Summary:

Overview: Citizen Z directs the team to a helicopter controlled by a mysterious general living atop a heavily guarded skyscraper where zombies roam freely. But Murphy's knows what's going to happen, and with his knowledge, he tries to direct the group elsewhere. Too bad they still don't fully trust him.

Notes:

I find it weird. When something bad happens to another person, all you want to do is cheer them up. You laugh at nothing, try to keep a smile on your face. You use humor to try and cover up the pain. Like laughter can cure unhappiness. I want to try to capture that in this story, because the fact that Z-Nation went with comedy/horror is pretty smart.

Besides the supernatural and cheesiness, they manage to capture the aspect that even in the worst of times--the darkest of times, you can't be sane without humor-- something that can be a light in the darkness. I like that.

Credit to doctor_bog for a scene with revealed information.

Simon's POV:

 

It had been a while since Simon was in contact with Delta-Xray. A couple days at least. The last he heard, they wanted him to be ready with music on hold on the low end of the AM frequency, but they didn't give him a signal to play it after that.

 

They just kind of forgot, maybe? Maybe they figured out something else that worked?

 

Simon didn't think the group ended up getting bit. It was stupid to say that it didn't feel right, but that was exactly the whim he was going on. Nothing about any of them dying felt like it would happen.

 

Scanning his monitors, he looked through anything that he could find. CCTV's, security cameras, the occasional camera hidden on someone's doorbell. Literally anything in hopes that he would find a small glimpse of the group.

 

Besides shifting, rotting masses of zombies, and the occasional survivor, Simon was having trouble getting any sign of the group since Philadelphia. He kept checking signals, hoping he'd catch a frequency suddenly appear from another cop car, radio, or even some Clowny the French Fry contraption that somehow Simon knew of even though he had never seen one personally.

 

He bit down on his fingernails, checking anything operating in Ohio, West Virginia, DC, and even Kentucky. Delta-Xray was moving faster than Hammond had, so they could be practically in any one of those places now.

 

Frustrated more than enough, he backed away from searching, rolling his chair back as his hands covered the back of his head. "They're somewhere. Close? I got no idea. It's like they're purposely avoiding cameras."

 

He sighed, cutting himself off from speaking aloud. Besides increasing his worry, it wasn't getting him anywhere, so Simon decided to take a short break hoping to recuperate himself.

 

He spun slightly in his chair so he could look back towards his new animal companion. He hadn't given the dog a name yet, but the place was more than prepared.

 

Two bowls sat next to the dog, one for water while the other was used for when Simon would make food. He had more than enough-- lasting for maybe…ten years? It was enough to get him and his new friend by, and that's all Simon cared about. Keeping the first living thing he had seen in a year alive.

 

The dog rested on the exercise trampoline Simon used from time to time. His new friend just decided to lay down on it one day and claimed it as his own. So, Simon treated the trampoline like it was a bed-- covered with a blanket or two for the cold nights and pillows which the dog rested his head on now.

 

Simon smiled, more than over delighted to be in the presence of something alive as he turned towards the dog.

 

"Wouldn't suppose you'd know where they are, huh?" It was only a tease, but the dog reacted, whimpering some as he rolled over onto his stomach.

 

Simon couldn't help as he laughed, forgetting his frustrations momentarily as he hopped up from his seat, rubbing the husky's exposed stomach.

 

"I'll take that as a no then." He scratched behind the husky's ears, causing the dog to curl over towards him, long haired tail wagging in excitement to the attention.

 

"No. You don't know, do you? No, not a clue." Simon baby-talked to his new friend, only causing the husky to roll over more, nearly falling off the trampoline as he let out a soft bark.

 

He couldn't help as his grin turned to a full-on toothy smile, sitting back on his heels as he watched the husky paw at him to continue to pet.

 

Even with his smile, he let out a sigh. Calling his friend 'the dog' or 'the husky' was getting too repetitive. Like Cowgi- Shit-- like Cowboy when he had been talking to a pre-recorded video of Daisy.

 

"You need a name." Simon pondered over it watching as the husky's big eyes turned on him, all too adorable and a huge reminder that he wasn't alone anymore.

 

The thought caused Simon's smile to widen, tilting his head towards the dog. "What about…Dog?" Simple, easy, and to the point.

 

He could almost see in the disappointment in the husky's face, pawing at his white muzzle and button black nose.

 

"No, didn't think so." He took a deep breath, hand running along his chin in concentration. "Husk? Doggo? Um…" He was drawing a blank on good dog names, being years out of inexperience from having a pet.  "Cyber?"

 

The husky didn't seem to like any of his names, but Simon continued on, snapping his fingers when another came to mind. "What about Codec?" The dog let out a whine, slightly causing Simon's face to fall in annoyed amusement. "Aw c'mon. I really liked that name."

 

So far, none were all too pleasing to his very picky friend, so Simon tried to imagine anything that would be closely related to what the previous owner of the husky would call him. "Okay, how about Snow…dog? Snowman?" Damn. He thought it was pretty clever since he had found the husky buried in snow. "Ice-pop…Pupsicle?"

 

The first part drew the husky's attention, causing his tail to wag as he laid his head on Simon's leg. "That one?" A giddy excitement laced Simon's voice. "Pupsicle? Pup?"

 

The husky barked at the last name, bouncing slightly on the trampoline as he got up, jumping off of the make-shift bed and rubbing against Simon.

 

"That? Yeah, bud." He scratched between the newly named Pup's ears, causing the dog to lean into his side. Luckily, Simon was able to keep a steady balance on the balls of his feet, keeping himself from falling on his bottom.

 

"Pup it is then." He laughed, a wave of nostalgia hitting him like the name was one of a late pet. Simon knew it wasn't though. He only had pets until he was twelve, and during that time, he could count all of them on one hand. Never had he called one Pup, and that was entirely due to the fact that his mom was allergic to dog fur, and Simon wouldn't give his cats a dog's name.

 

He had went to spend time with his newly named friend, but the second Simon had nearly relaxed to get comfortable, his set-up beeped, drawing his attention away from Pup and getting him up off the ground. He was quick to fling himself back in his rolling chair, pulling up the location's spike.

 

Something told him the group were near DC. Whatever reason his mind would believe the group would head down rather than across was beyond him, but that wasn't what he was bothered with right now. Regardless, he had went to check Virginia first. While searching in Virginia, he caught footage of a base with what looked to be a chopper at the top. Whether it was of use or not was left undecided.

 

Simon had been monitoring it some when he was helping Hammond transport the pack- Murphy, but seeing as how Hammond had meant his fate (none to Simon's surprise) he figured the helicopter still would remain an asset for this new group.

 

So, he had been keeping track, trying to get in contact, and utterly failing to do so in the end. The supposed General that was there seemed to be one of those stubborn, I-don't-need-your-help, do-what-I-ask-you-to-do, type survivors. So, all in all, a hard person to contact.

 

Regardless, Simon persisted.

 

"Hello? This is Simon Cruller operating at Camp Northern Light." He looked over towards the monitors making sure both ends were in contact, and hoping one wasn't nearly nonexistent. "I've been trying to get in contact with you, sir. Can you hear me?"

 

Simon spared a glance over at Pup, who's head was cocked to the side watching him. With the lack of reply from the General, Simon shrugged towards Pup, cursing his luck. He tempted it though, trying again.

 

"I've been hoping to reach you in terms of the chopper stationed on your roof. Is there any way you can speak to me?" Can you even hear me?

 

Nothing. The signal back at the building faded, either leaving Simon to believe that the General had heard and simply ignored him, or didn't have the means to contact back.

 

Simon sighed, moving his hand back to running across his forehead in hopes to compensate for his stress over this damn end of the world mission. It didn't help much, but as Pup slowly roamed his way over, setting his furry head atop Simon's lap, he couldn't help but relax some, rubbing behind Pup's ears.

 

With the newfound relief of having something living next to him, Simon got to work on his previous mission.

 

Find Delta-Xray. Wherever the hell they were.

 

---- line break -----

 

Blake's POV:

 

They had been driving for Lord knows how long. Garnett, Warren, and about everyone else a part of the team were all too eager about getting out of Philly.

 

Even though Blake hadn't even suffered through the brunt of the horrid experiences there, that whole night had left Blake out of it. She had never seen a cannibal before-- never been in any sort of contact with one. She refused to call Cassandra a cannibal, despite the fact that the claim was true. If anything, Cassandra was an ex-cannibal, but Blake couldn't force herself to call the girl that when it was nearly a means of survival.

 

Blake wasn't even sure what Cassandra had been through. All she knew was that the girl had run away in hopes to escape her old life. If anything, Blake looked at that as a start of something knew-- becoming better, different, and nothing like the one you despised.

 

Blake had even done it, and she doesn't commit herself to be called by who she used to be. Cassandra shouldn't either.

 

So, Blake didn't call her or incorporate her in any way, shape, or form with the cannibals. And Blake would never want to.

 

She hated herself for not being on the front lines, but she knew it was important that she kept the machine gun from being used.  If she hadn't, the consequences would probably be ones Murphy already experienced. If it was her guess, Blake would say those experiences may have been way worse, but she didn't know for sure.

 

If anything, now that she thinks about it, with the fact that she had guarded the machine gun and the plan had been changed from last time, seemed to have a greater negative impact on the group than before.

 

Murphy could tell something was off the second Cassandra and 10K rounded the corner. Hell, even though Blake hadn't been here last time, she could even tell something was off.

 

The two had been disheveled. They had been nearly out of it. Cassandra had cried against Addy and 10K refused to speak towards any of them. The whole repetitive theme carried on for these past couple days even. 10K wasn't talking nearly at all, and while that was partly expected, his whole demeanor of before was completely off. Cassandra hadn't been the same either. Her eyes were always off in a dark place, much like she had been when telling about Tobias, or like how Addy sometimes reacted due to her past that she never liked to talk about.

 

Slowly, Addy had been working at Cassandra. These past few nights, Cassandra had jolted awake, but she hadn't cried. She had stifled a yell before burying herself back into her sprawled out, crinkled sleeping bag. During those nights, or even the days that followed, Addy would be the one that talked to her. The young woman had tried to get Cassandra to tell about what was going on, but Cassandra always closed off about it, explaining in a simple answer that she was fine.

 

Blake wasn't sure how far Addy had gotten with Cassandra to tell what happened back with the cannibals a couple days ago, but the same process with 10K was working out even less.

 

Blake wouldn't have really noticed the subtle shifts after these few couple days since Philadelphia, but one look at Murphy immediately told her that something still wasn't right-- no matter the times 10K hid it perfectly.

 

It wasn't so much as studying the Risen's notes that she was able to pick up on his behavior, but the fact that she had…monitored the group for some time, if that was any way to put it. Back at Altura (for the short period of time Blake had resided there) she had seen the group wonder by from time to time.

 

Doc with the fading zombie makeup, making Blake wonder if he was a Talker. Sargent Lilly always carrying her gun, Murphy's redness that made her compare him to the Devil, and then 10K. Even in the brief time that she would catch the group lingering around, there was always something she picked up about him.

 

Blake couldn't really compare him to Brett (far different in contrasts) but there was a semblance of a similarity that she had picked up. Brett wasn't too fond with transparent emotions. Fear, immense shows of love, sadness-- anything that defined you as not being a 'Macho Man'.

 

The whole idea was stupid with concealing emotions, and despite the fact that that was Brett's forte, it seemed to be similar to 10K's. The boy wasn't one to act outright, but to express all those emotions only to himself. Concealing, but because it was a way he felt safer. More like the way of saying, "The less you know about me, my vulnerabilities, the safer I feel".

 

Closed-off, a person that keeps to themselves, if anything. Blake couldn't tell if that moved into the area of not wanting to look like a burden, or simply because it was hard to process the emotions, and was better to hide and not show them rather than talk about it.

 

Two different types of concealing, but both that were blatantly obvious to who the two men are.

 

So, it had been harder for Blake to pick it up, but seeing as this was Murphy's second go-around, he had more of an idea that something was wrong. Blake could pick up on the little pieces. How drawn back 10K was, the way his observant look would veer off into something more compressed and hidden. The subtle movements of his hands scarping at his skin or gripping at his rifle for the need of safety.

 

She could see it, but she didn't know what it meant. All she knew was that something happened-- something terrible-- happened back at Philly that caused both Cassandra and 10K to become more closed off more than they already were.

 

Despite knowing this, Blake wasn't sure how to go about it.

 

Her, 10K, Murphy and Doc were all in the truck bed. Garnett was now the driver, despite Warren's reluctance, who now took the passenger's seat. Mack, Addy, and Cassandra all sat in the back of the truck. For whatever reason, the only people who had switched seats were Warren and Garnett, but Blake hadn't really minded. Despite Murphy being out here in the truck bed, she was perfectly fine with the arrangement.

 

It allowed her more time to try and get 10K to open up, while also not having to constantly smell the reeking bodies of sweat, blood, and guts of zombies from survivors who hadn't showered in what felt like forever.

 

Like most things throughout the apocalypse, the road was empty as they drove through potholes down the country-esque scene. Rows of wildflowers grew in the place of previous fields of corn. Grass littered the cracks in the asphalt, building up from inside the pot-holes and spreading God's glory from there.

 

 People were practically nonexistent, and as much as Blake was surprised to say it, she was glad. She had her fill of people for this week. Hell, maybe even a month.

 

Not much of a conversation was going on outside, despite the fact that there seemed to be a vibrant one between Mack, Addy, and Garnett with Warren chiming in every once in a while. Out in the truck bed, it was usually Doc who sparked up a conversation, but the man had placed his worry elsewhere, subtly shifting to look over towards 10K every once in a while.

 

Speaking of the boy, the sniper had positioned himself to standing, placing the stand of his rifle on the roof and upping his count to however much he was at, and Blake was glad to see it. The first few days since Philly, 10K hadn't been as willing to add to his goal like he had been before. She was glad to see that he was slowly going back to his normal, still closed off self.

 

He sniped another one, far off into the field, mumbling whatever number he was on underneath his breath before Garnett tapped the side of his door. With her back against the frame, Blake peered over the side, looking at Garnett's hand dangling out the window as he tapped the side three times.

 

Don't shoot anymore. They didn't want the firing to attract any more Zs to their location.

 

Or, whatever sort of code he had come up with to silently communicate with 10K. The sniper got the message, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder and sliding down to lean against the back of the truck. Doc was next to 10K, Murphy opposite who had begrudgingly sat next to her. Blake wouldn't say she was all too pleased with it either, but she took the seating arrangement into her favor, hoping she could piss Murphy off.

 

It seemed to work fairly well, him evenly pissing her off, until he decided to ignore her.

 

It was nice to finally have some silence without Murphy's voice ruining it, but after an hour or so, Blake knew the flamboyant, charismatic Blend dictator could only keep quiet for so long.

 

"Hey Doc?" Once the hippie's attention was called, he quickly hummed, looking over towards Murphy. "You ever see the movie 'Full Metal Jacket'?"

 

Blake couldn't help as her brows creased, turning her head to look at Murphy with his random, out-of-the-blue question. If anything, she thought the random movie topic was because Doc had a passion for explaining certain movies to (mainly) 10K, but the oddness seemed to vanish when she saw Murphy's eyes quickly stray over towards 10K then back to Doc.

 

It wasn't for the fact that he wanted to start a conversation with just Doc. Blake had seen the tactic used a couple times before, and if by anyone, it was usually Markson who used it with shaken survivors, or his own kids…that is, before one died and the other became Murphy's Blend soldier.

 

It was honestly simple, and otherwise manipulative when you think about it--whether it's done for the right or wrong reasons. It was to spark a conversation with someone you know will talk. The conversation may seem of interest and worth talking about to that one person, but instead, you're using it to attract the third person's attention. That third person would be 10K. Thus, hoping that when you start on a topic that would be interesting to both parties, it would cause the third person to speak their own mind.

 

And, in the end, would cause 10K to speak when he hadn't for nearly a week.

 

If anyone, Blake wasn't the least surprised that the cunning dictator would use this tactic.

 

The conversation started off slow, only between Doc and Murphy, conversing into different types of movies Blake hadn't heard of. For whatever reason, Murphy stayed on the military subject, so Blake couldn't give much input on it. Mainly for the fact that she had never seen one, more-so because of Austin not enjoying them. Back in the past life, way back Pre-Z, Blake had wanted to watch movies like 'Full Metal Jacket' or 'Pearl Harbor', or even 'Good Morning Vietnam'. She could just never get herself to watch the movies when she had Jen around, too afraid her toddler would pick up on the violent themes.

 

Not that it mattered when everything was violent nowadays, but after being sent back in time, her primary thought hadn't been about watching the movies she never had the chance to.

 

Somewhere along the lines, the conversation turned to talking about tattoos. From once scene in the movie to if anyone in the truck bed had one.

 

Murphy's deviant smirk turned towards her, tilting his head innocently to the side. "How about you?" It wasn't much of a sweet tone that he used, but Blake disregarded it.

 

"I do actually." She smiled right back, shifting to turn towards him. "Where you'll never see." She winked towards him, none too playfully, but the comment caught him off guard for a quick second before he could regain his usual manner.

 

"Never would've thought the innocent Risen girl would get one." He winked back, and Blake couldn't help but choke on her own breath.

 

What in the hell did he just say?!

 

She kicked him, hard with as much force as she could, glaring at him while Doc, 10K, and even Murphy stared at her in shock.

 

She had told him-- many, many, many times in the past few days that he could never talk about the past life to the others. That they weren't allowed to know, at all. Now the shithead bastard decided to bring the damn thing up right in front of them.

 

"What the hell was that for?" The cry of pain mixed within the innocent mocking was enough to make her nostrils flare. He knew exactly what it was for.

 

Regardless, he played the part, acting as if Blake was the one in the wrong and trying to get Doc and 10K to believe him. Doc's eyebrows were raised, scanning both Murphy and Blake over with astonished curiosity. The two members who had no idea about time travel not having a clue to why what happened just happened.

 

Murphy scoffed at her, shaking his head as he turned back to Doc. The dictator still tried to play the innocent part, lowering his voice as if he was confused why she just kicked him with all the force she could muster.

 

"What about you, Doc?" He rubbed his leg where she knew it was bruising, sparing a glance back towards her that was basically the definition of, 'I hate you'. "You got any tattoos that you care to share. Exempting the kick to the shin would be preferable."

 

Doc shook his head, still in a daze of trying to comprehend what just happened. "Um…" The question clicked with him, turning his attention back towards Murphy. "Yeah, yeah-- I got one." He rolled up his shirt, revealing the underside of his arm. "Probably ain't as pretty as Blake's though." He joked, quickly looking back towards her and drawing his legs closer to his chest afraid she'd kick him too.

 

Damn. The reaction probably wasn't the best on her reputation.  She tried to smile over at him, silently telling him she meant no harm before looking at the tattoo Doc was showing them.

 

He wasn't really joking though. Blake's tattoo was mainly flowers and birds, one she had gotten long ago to show her inner peace. Now, the tattoo held no meaning to her other than a pretty decoration imprinted on her body. Doc's, however, wasn't one to show beauty, but more of a symbol.

 

It was smaller, lining near the middle of his arm so that it was covered by all shirts besides a tank top. The tattoo was a perfectly even sliver anchor, a rope running through the metal design with the letters USN written in cursive across the top.

 

Her eyes snapped over to look at his, forehead creasing in confusion.

 

USN…As in United States Navy.

 

"Got it after spending time as a Seaman in the Navy. Couple guys thought it'd be cool. We were high off our asses that night, and it seemed like a good idea." Doc shrugged, lowering his sleeve as he recounted the short story. "Some of the guys didn't even remember the next day." He laughed, and as Murphy smirked along with listening to the story, Blake's own confusion hadn't ceased.

 

She never knew Doc served in the Navy. He never talked about it at Camp Blue Sky, and the Risen hadn't even written it in the overview. They just said that he was an Addiction Counselor, and the fact that a rebellion who had obtained so much information on these people hadn't even known that one of the men served in the military, was all the more surprising to Blake.

 

"You were in the Navy?" It wasn't her who asked, but instead, 10K who's interest had spiked at the mention. He turned towards Doc as Blake turned to look at Murphy; a proud smile lining his face at the accomplishment of getting 10K to finally talk.

 

Huh…so the kid liked the military. Good to know.

 

Murphy's smirk turned towards her, and Blake couldn't help but roll her eyes, giving in that Murphy's idea had in fact worked. She didn't dare compliment him out loud though.

 

It was really only quiet conversing after that before the truck started to rumble to a stop. Blake stood as the truck's speed decreased, watching as smoke billowed from the engine.

 

"Dammit." She sighed, looking down towards Doc who noticed the slowing as well. "Something's wrong with the truck."

 

She saw Murphy rub his hand across his beard in annoyed anticipation.

 

"Would've thought this truck would hold up a little longer." Doc pushed himself up, standing beside her to get an overhead view of the smoking engine.

 

"Why?" Murphy grumbled, stretching his arms out as far as he could reach. "Been a couple weeks since Blue Sky went up in flames. This truck should've been shit two days ago."

 

Blake couldn't tell if he was just being negative, or that actually happened in the past life.

 

Regardless she couldn't help but shake her head, glancing over towards him. "Pessimism, Murphy." Blake berated. The man wasn't usually filled with happy comments to express to the group, and Blake took joy in his reaction when she spoke.

 

"You'd know enough about that. Wouldn't you, Sweetheart?"

 

Ooh, but that nickname just got under her skin. Regardless, Murphy took joy in her reaction as well, smuggling watching her before looking out to the slowing landscape and cracking his knuckles.

 

It wasn't long before the truck pulled over to the side with most everyone in the pickup unloading. Mack and Garnett were first to check the engine as Warren came up from the passenger's side to the driver's.

 

"How long you think we got?" She turned towards Garnett as he shrugged, checking over the engine before briefly turning to Mack.

 

"Too long in my opinion." He answered, causing Warren to nod her head.

 

"Alright." She sighed, letting Cassandra exit the car before asking Addy for her backpack. Once taking out a roll of precious toilet paper that was oddly clean for apocalypse standards, she turned towards the rest of the group. "Quick bathroom break." Her attention fell on Murphy, giving him a knowing look. "Less than ten minutes."

 

Geez, that time was generous. Blake wouldn't be one to complain though.

 

"Alright, alright. I don't take that long." Murphy tried to defend himself, but it fell short with the Warren's signature look that Blake was used to being afraid of.

 

Mack decided to skip his turn until the end so that he could work on the truck. Garnett had been the first to take the offer, with Cassandra, Doc, 10K, Addy, and herself going next before it finally came down to Warren and Murphy. Warren was quick to snatch the opportunity, and Murphy didn't argue, jumping down out of the truck bed to finally stretch his legs.

 

Blake took the opportunity too, briefly sparing a glance to the truck bed where Doc, Cassandra, and 10K were. The older man was leaned up against the back of the truck's frame, already finished with stretching his legs as Cassandra stood behind 10K. Despite Garnett's non-verbal order to keep from using his rifle, 10K converted back to using his slingshot instead.

 

Blake straightened up from limbering to lean herself against the truck behind Addy, watching the field beside her. There weren't too many Zs occupying the area, but then again, the group had only made it as far as Amish Country. With filling up the truck repeatedly, getting out of both zombie's and human's sights, it had taken them a long seven days of trying to get out of Pennsylvania.

 

But, despite being as far as Amish Country, that didn't warrant that the zombies would cease to exist. Two zombified men, dressed in black jeans and button up jackets against a white shirt and weaved hats trudged their way mindlessly towards living flesh. It wasn't hard to tell that they were Amish men who had been infected with the virus for years now.

 

Whatever belief or life style they had didn't matter anymore in the zombie's life as 10K took the shot, the metal gear perfectly embedding itself into the first zombie's forehead. It had barely even touched the ground before the second one was killed, dropping to the road below like a fainting goat.

 

Blake shook her head. Nobody was spared of the zombie apocalypse. Whether they tried to hide or run, every mammal that lived was sucked into this living hell.

 

"Amish zombies." Addy spoke, the smile that was one of disbelief fading into pity and devastation to what the world had become in such a short span of time.

 

"Really?" She asked no one in particular, throwing her head to the side. "Really?"

 

"They tried to quarantine themselves from the rest of society." Garnett started, pacing away from helping Mack on the engine so that he could keep watch from the front.

 

Blake sighed, pushing herself off the truck to listen. The Amish had a pretty good idea going. They most likely had never seen the movie World War Z, but then again, their thoughts were similar. The virus spreads through bites. Simple and easy. If you avoid other humans, you avoid the infection.

 

Sadly, just about every other zombie movie was correct. Whether you were bitten or not, when you die, you're reanimated into a living corpse that feeds on flesh.

 

"Keep the Zs from spreading the infection." Garnett continued, looking over towards them. Most of them had been paying attention, Mack also being one as he multitasked on repairing the engine and taking part in the conversation.

 

"That was before we knew Romero had it right. We were all carrying the virus. Didn't matter who you were or how you died."

 

Young, old, sick or healthy. Even living babies who died in their mother's womb would turn-- ripping through their living mother's skin and organs to kill anyone in the surrounding vicinity. Another reason why so few people want to get pregnant in the apocalypse.

 

Not only is your kid at a high risk of dying, but if that said child dies before it's even born, the mother can't be saved.

 

"Night of the Living Dead." Addy mumbled, shaking her head in despair towards Blake as she passed by her. "Great movie, sucky reality."

 

Blake couldn't help but nod in agreement.

 

"You know what I don't get." Addy started again, walking over towards Mack and Garnett. "If the Zs didn't spread the virus, how did we all get infected?"

 

Oh. That's gonna be a fun topic to bring up with Murphy. Blake wasn't entirely sure how, but at this point, she knew it wasn't nature. Only when she had been working with the Risen did she find out it was the demented people that populated the planet that brought the world to its demise.

 

She was leaned back against the truck next to Murphy, watching as his fists clenched and his teeth gritted together. He noticeably pushed himself off the truck to get closer to the conversation, but the others didn't pay much mind to the little outburst of anger.

 

"Best guess I heard," Garnett started, looking down towards Addy in a way to try and deduce how the theory was as plausible as the public was convinced. "- it was spread by birds."

 

Nature or humans. Blake wasn't too sure which one was more depressing. Earth trying to rid human life from the planet or the people trying to.

 

"Some kind of a parasite piggybacked on the bird flu. Stays dormant 'till you die." Garnett explained, getting an eyeroll and a shake of the head from Murphy. Blake couldn't help as she concealed her own.

 

If that was the best, Blake would want to hear the other options. She had long since forgotten what others had told her about the zombie virus's origin.

 

Murphy remained silent, brushing his hand against his beard as if he was contemplating what to say next to rebuke what Garnett had explained. Blake decided to beat him to it, hoping to keep Murphy from revealing time travel once again.

 

"I don't know." She shrugged, sending Murphy a glare to keep his mouth shut. "Heard that somewhere in the U.S. virologist lab-experiment got released into the world."

 

Garnett tilted his head to the side, as Addy nodded her head, biting the bottom of her lip.

 

"So you think humans did it?"

 

Why wouldn't they? Happens in nearly every movie. 

 

Blake just nodded back, releasing a deep breath. " Why not? Greed, attention, people looking to take up a challenge. It's human nature." Or, it could just be an experiment gone wrong.  Then again, when is anything that simple?

 

"Humans always find a way to destroy themselves." Murphy spoke from beside Addy, and Blake could see the burning anger thriving in his eyes. "Even when you fix it, they'll find a way to butcher any faith left that the world could be normal."

 

She knew he was hinting at the past life-- referencing his doings as God's holy plan and the Risen as the Pits of Hell burning his safe haven away. Despite the building resentment towards the man, she pushed it down, grateful he hadn't just simply stated that was the past life.

 

"You talk like you're not one of us." Mack commented over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised as his eyes fell on Murphy suspiciously. The others around acting much the same.

 

Murphy just gave a simple shrug, confusing the others all the more. Blake couldn't help but shake her head, looking away from him and towards the sky.

 

She knew Murphy wasn't human-- wasn't even alive at this moment actually. For some reason, the dictator seemed to be playing with the group, and seemingly her as well. Whether it's because he knows she'll shoot him if he blows their cover as anything but a survivor and the package, or because he had something else planned, Blake was going to find out.

 

Missing the whole conversation, Warren finally rounded the corner, wiping her hands on a rag as she nodded over towards Murphy.

 

Instead of his usual gimmick of being annoyed, Murphy moved over to grab a small amount of toilet paper from Addy without any complaint or word at all. It seemed displaced to see respect in Murphy's eyes as they quickly followed Warren, but it was there.

 

A dictator fallen to a follower by a leader. One hell of a woman to be exact that could kick anyone's ass without batting an eyelash.

 

Blake shivered, watching as Murphy held his hand out towards Addy, accepting the two small squares of toilet paper handed to him. She could see the longing to argue for more lying within his eyes, but he shifted his head, his act turning similar to the red owner of Limbo and Talker refugee site all too quickly.

 

As he passed Garnett, the man spoke. "Hey, hurry up. I want to get passed DC before dark."

 

She didn't even have to look his direction to know the zombie chew toy of a man rolled his eyes, huffing out a sigh. "Yeah, okay." He mumbled a cuss that sounded similar to Jesus's name under his breath. "I told you I don't take that long."

 

Neither Garnett nor Warren were convinced, but Murphy brushed them off, rounding the other side of the truck to go about his business. As much as Blake was afraid the man would take this as his opportunity to run, she refused to watch the man as he took a restroom break.

 

She refused to stoop that low. Especially with Murphy.

 

Blake ran her hand across her face, crossing one arm over the truck bed as she listened to the continued conversation.

 

"I'm tellin' ya, there ain't nothin' there." It was Doc who spoke, motioning with his hands as he did so. "No thoughts, no memories." He paused a moment as Blake drew her head up to look at him. "No soul. Nothin'."

 

As much as Blake wanted to believe that was true, she just couldn't. Talkers were really the only thing that pushed her thoughts that way. There has to be something living in there if Black Rain could cause a person to be conscious while dead. Black Rain didn't cause the Talkers to keep their soul. It just enhanced the ability to allow them to think longer and act more like humans for some time if they were fed properly.

 

The virus caused the cannibalistic strive for flesh, but whether bitten or dead, Blake was almost a hundred percent sure that the soul was still there.

 

Just trapped.

 

A soul without free will over a powerless body.

 

Cassandra sat next to Doc, legs pulled closer to her chest as she finally seemed willing to participate in a conversation. Blake supposed Addy's constant persisting helped the girl some.

 

"Well they're not dead." Cassandra's eyes turned to 10K as Blake followed her line of vision. The sniper kept his head down, seemingly more focused on making sure his apocalyptic suit of armor was intact rather than participating in the on-going conversation. "They want something."

 

Blake heard Addy come up beside her, as Garnett told Mack it was his turn, meaning Murphy had already come back.

 

"Yeah. Brains." It was an obvious retort as Doc spoke, managing a little giggle from Addy and a slightly amused look from Cassandra who was still focused on the topic.

 

Blake couldn't deny that he was correct. She had spoken to enough of Talkers to know brains were like a pregnancy craving. Just a very messed up, inhuman craving that takes another person's life.

 

"You can't want something if you're not conscious," Cassandra grabbed her flask, gently smiling over at Doc. "-if you don't have a soul."

 

Blake silently nodded, hand picking at the hem of her jacket. Cassandra seemed to be wise beyond her age. However old that was. Blake's only guess from the Risen's notes was that she was most likely in her early twenties.

 

It wasn't a moment later that 10K spoke, drawing their attention.

 

"When my Pa was wounded," His hands played with his knife mindlessly, still keeping his gaze away from them. Blake felt her heart clench, hearing him speak about his past that the Risen had no information whatsoever on. "-he told me to tie him up before he turned."

 

Oh God.

 

Blake could see a look cloud over Doc's face. One of sympathy and caring. She had seen it too many times before when adults would come to talk with him or even younger children. The older hippie had a way of cheering up those who had suffered, but all he had now was that look as he listened intently to what 10K was confessing.

 

10K finally looked up, his eyes first landing on Cassandra's.

 

The sniper hesitated, swallowing deeply before continuing. "Made me promise to show him mercy when he died. Kill the brain, you know."

 

Blake didn't even care to notice how much 10K was speaking as she listened, her hands gripping against the aluminum of the pickup. She could see the grief and guilt shadowed across his face, but he refused to tear up.

 

He finally drew his gaze away, bouncing his leg from side to side as he bit his lip. Blake could feel Addy grip her shoulder but she didn't register it. She could feel her own motherly tendencies appear as she looked towards the boy. Despite having little information on him, it was like Addy, Mack, or even Cassandra. They were young-- too young to have to be put through these experiences, and any time she looked at them, it was like imagining Jen growing up in the same situation as they were.

 

She couldn't handle the thought, letting out a shuddering breath as Addy's grip tightened.

 

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't hurt my Pa," Doc leaned closer, mouth agape looking nearly heartbroken as he listened to the boy. "-No matter what he'd become."

 

10K's eyes were distant as he took in a long breath. "I stared into his eyes for the longest time, just…looking for some sign he was still in there."

 

Blake couldn't help as a pit formed in her stomach, swallowing harshly as she listened. It never got easier to hear a loved one had become a monstrous, cannibalistic creature right before your eyes. It was a harsh reminder that because Blake had to go back in time, this was the second time all these deaths occurred and she couldn't prevent it.

 

"Did you see anything?" Cassandra's eyebrows drew together as 10K shook his head, remaining silent. His attention was back on Cassandra like either her or Doc were the easiest to talk to.

 

Doc finally got his voice back, gentle and light as he spoke. "What did you do?" It wasn't a pry, but a curiosity within his concern.

 

It was only a slight hesitation this time, as 10K turned his head towards Doc, licking his lips nervously.

 

 "I killed it."

 

Blake closed her eyes, keeping her own tears back as she felt Addy's white knuckle grip loosen.

 

It was hard to think of a child killing their parent, but she knew it happened frequently. Hell, it had to have happened to the youngests of the group, but it was so hard to comprehend. To just think that a person who raised you from an infant, taught and cared for you. A parent or parents that showed love towards their child or children. To think that a child would have to look them in the eyes and pull the trigger was all the more horrifying.

 

When Jen had been bitten and turned in the past life, Blake hadn't been as strong as she was now. She couldn't pull the trigger on her little baby, even as it started to run towards her. Maybe a parent killing their child was harder than a child killing their parent, but the idea was all the same. They loved and you loved back--only in the end, one of them ended up dead by the other's hand.

 

Neither were easy. Neither were one that could rest on the mind without repercussions.

 

She hated to admit it, but if she had to pull the trigger on Jenny, she'd place the gun to her own head after. Blake shuddered, just thinking of the mental toll that placed on 10K.

 

"Damn, kid." Doc's voice was slow, a concerned frown lined his lips as he watched 10K. He tried to word what he was going to say next properly, hoping that it wasn't a trigger. "You had to put down your own dad?"

 

10K's eyes were piercing as his voiced turned harsher. "Didn't kill him." He was quick to speak, pausing for a moment as the harsh tone lightened. "Killed it."

 

It. A word used so often before the Talkers that it had become normal vocabulary to call a zombie. They were never a person. They were a thing. Something that killed, that wasn't there. Blake knew it was only one of the ways that a person could cope with killing so many people. If it wasn't a person, you weren't committing murder. You weren't slicing or sniping a person.

 

You were killing it.

 

That ideology carried on with the Talkers too, causing more problems than enough, but Blake understood why people called the old zombies 'it'.

 

She even does it. For sanities sake.

 

Cassandra was quicker to recompose herself than the others, her tone just as gentle but not taking a full pity tone that Blake knew she couldn't hold back if she spoke.

 

"But if it's not alive, how did you kill it?"

 

"Piked it." His voice was harsh again as it raised, leaning closer to Cassandra. He raised his own sheathed knife, pressing it against his forehead. "Right here. My first kill."

 

Holy God….just to count your parent as the first kill that resembled your own name was…tragic, sad, horrific. Just to be 10K's first kill in general was far too depressing to even begin to describe.

 

Doc shook his head as 10K lowered his to the ground, hesitating to speak more. "I always wish he knew, you know…somehow knew that I kept my promise."

 

She knew 10K was done when his eyes fell to the ground before quickly looking around him to watch for dangers. The sadness, grief and guilt that he spoke with and showed was nearly lost-- returning back to that vigilant, survivor's look that Blake knew came with being by yourself for far too long.

 

The confession ended too suddenly, leaving those around with more melancholy than before, all trying to comprehend it. Doc looked down towards the truck bed, thinking over the sudden talk with the boy who rarely spoke. Cassandra only watched 10K as Addy backed up, a look of familiarity expressed across her face as a few tears escaped her eyes.

 

Blake let out a deep breath, too many reminders of what the world was like and had become as years passed in the past life. She repeated what 10K had just said over and over, keeping it in her memory to record later on in her journal. Just to make sure if she ever had to talk to him more deeply on this topic, she could. Or, if she were to go back in time, the notes would already be there so that she'd remember.

 

But going over the conversation only brought guilt and shame to her, hearing again what too many young people were suffering through. What 10K had to do. She couldn't help the fact that she wanted to give him a hug. Every time Jen had been upset, the little girl had crawled into her arms, seeking shelter in a tight embrace.

 

Blake was sure 10K wouldn't be too fond if she decided to hug him. Too close of contact with a complete stranger. Even with a light shoulder squeeze, she was afraid it would cause him to draw back. She didn't want that. Forcing never got her anywhere-- in relationships that is-- and she knew 10K would be one of the hardest to gain trust from. But if she did it with Warren or even Mack, the young sniper should be only some struggle.

 

Her gaze fell briefly back on him as his head turned the other way. 10K wasn't paying much attention to them anymore, but Blake was, trying to make of what the boy was thinking. He was too hard to read, but as her eyes scanned him, it fell on his exposed neck from underneath the sole shoe shoulder pad, and his dirty beige scarf.

 

She could make out two scars dashed across his neck, similar to the ones Cassandra had been counting on her arm while they were driving through Philly.

 

Holy shit. When had he been tased? Her mind ventured back towards the cannibals when 10K had weakly climbed into the pickup truck with Doc's help. Blake's eyes landed on his, but he was quick to look away from her, and by the time she went to allude to the scars, Garnett had already told them to load back up in the working truck.

 

--- line break----

 

Murphy's POV:

 

Driving. That was all the group had been doing, or literally anyone Murphy had been placed with, these past few years. Sure it was rare in the apocalypse, and assholes tried to steal your vehicle and gas, but God did Murphy hate being crammed into a small space for hours on end.

 

Warren had forced him to sit back in the truck, so Cassandra had taken his spot out in the truck bed. Not that Murphy was gonna complain. He was tired with Blake's constant bitching and nagging, or as a new occurrence, kicking him in the shin as hard as she could.

 

Driving and Blake. Too things he was growing a quick dislike for. Then again, driving was better than walking, and driving could quickly lose his Blake problem. More ways than one to be exact.

 

Regardless, he sat in the middle of Mack and Addy, looking through the back broken window of the truck for the dinky, shit-car that decided to trap them last time. In spite of Blake, he hadn't told her what would happen today, because in all honesty, he didn't care what would happen to her, specifically.

 

He could easily prevent the group's death by himself. Blake was only holding him back and dragging them down. If she was out of the picture, Murphy would find a way to save the group, get Lucy, and possibly screw the major cure for humanity. Blends hadn't worked out so well the first two previous times, but with Blake out of the picture, his safety paradise for his little Lulu and the group would be quicker.

 

Or, then again, he could always turn Blake into his Blend, let her live in a world she had destroyed, and give a real cure to the people who weren't rich bastards hiding away on a doomed island. Good people, that is. Not those maniacal lunatics, or unfaithful humans that saw his cure as some curse. Blend or regular,  his blood was the only thing that created it, and as much as Murphy hated that the whole scenario had to repeat, it allowed him some time to insure that those he…cared for-- and his little girl that he loved would be safe.

 

From Blake, or the dastardly Risen that was yet to form, or even Zona-- hunting down his daughter like she was some lab rat.

 

So, he hadn't told Blake because if he found a way to get her out of the picture, everything would be much easier.

 

While on his third go-around of watching out the back window, he caught sight of the crappy clown car looking contraption as it rounded the corner at its slow full speed.

 

Doc had noticed it too, yelling through the shattered window. "Humans! Sick o'clock!"

 

Garnett turned back, leaning over the seat to look at the racketing, tragedy of a car slowly creeping behind them. Warren adjusted her mirror, keeping a steady pace while driving forward right into the trap.

 

"I see them." She notified, still driving at the same pace as before.

 

And if they kept going like this, they'd be right back to the trap. Murphy shook his head, leaning against the center counsel.

 

"What are you doing? Speed up and lose them on an off-road." Better than going down the main highway right where the blockade of humans and zombie were.

 

"Taking an off-road will only take us further off course." Warren took a quick look back through the mirror again. "They're not going very fast. Either they're runnin' low on gas, or just in a slow car. We'll lose them up here either way."

 

Murphy grumbled, falling back in his seat. They're not going to lose them up here, because they're heading right where those bandits want them to go.

 

"Is that more of your cannibal friends?" He heard Doc say to Cassandra.

 

"No." She responded back, her voice more solemn than Murphy remembered. "They're all dead…this is something else."

 

'They're all dead'? What the hell?

 

Murphy sat up in his seat, trying to be subtle about it, and hoping he did so. Last time, the group hadn't killed all the cannibals. They booked it out of there after retrieving Doc and Cassandra. Murphy's best guess for the new statement was that the plan had changed, but even then, it begged the question whether or not Tobias had been the last cannibal before time travel.

 

It was really only minutes after that they saw the concreate holding both the zombies and humans chained to the middle of the road.

 

"What the hell is that?" Garnett asked, leaning closer to the window as his hand lowered to his gun.

 

"Looks like some zombie barricade." Warren started to slow, but Murphy refused to have it this time. He was not riding in that dinky car again.

 

"Don't slow down!" He leaned up against Warren's seat, motioning with his hands for her to turn. "Go around them."

 

Garnett put his hands in front of Murphy, pushing him back in his seat as Warren quickly turned her head towards him. Easily, he pushed Garnett's hands off of him, motioning back to the rubbish car slowly closing in behind them.

 

"You don't think it's planned? They drive around the corner, and then we got a zombie blockade in front of us? Seem a little obvious to you?" Seem like a trap?

 

God, Murphy had no idea how the group could be this stupid last time.

 

To his relief, Warren took his suggestion, swerving to the side so that the truck was half in the grass, half on the road. "Hold on!" She called, speeding up to drive past the zombie/human block.

 

Unlike last time, however, it only seemed to piss the humans off. Their zombie act faded, raising their weapons with shock and fuming rage to their target actually being smarter than them.

 

The bandits shot at them, causing Warren to duck as one collided against the frame of the truck.

 

"Shit!"

 

More shots were fired at them as Warren pummeled on the gas peddle, just as 10K took a shot, hitting one of the shooter's hands so that they dropped their gun while narrowly missing another bullet fired. He heard Doc mumble something along the lines of 'loving this kid', but from past experience (literally) he already knew it.

 

The others in the truck bed ducked as Warren sped across the highway, the rest in the open firing their guns towards the bandits. Whether they missed or not, the bandits hid away, turning their car around to find their next victims.

 

Warren released a breath, keeping her eyes ahead for anymore dangers. At least it wasn't the roller-coaster of misconception, threats of death, and horrors of riding in that God-awful car this time.

 

"What did I tell ya?" He couldn't help but rub it in, earning a glare from all those in the truck. Still, it felt good to be right, and in this form and fashion, gaining more of the groups' trust little by little. Even if he still sometimes acted like a douchebag. He couldn't help it.

 

He heard Warren grumble out a reply, but couldn't quite make of what she said. Murphy still smirked, tilting his head back in pride as they continued to drive down the road, still in the pickup.

 

Thank God.

 

Somewhere along the lines, Addy and him had switched seats, only because Murphy was getting tired of Mack's constant chirping in Addy's ear by leaning across Murphy. The young couple's antics got annoying real fast, thus he offered a seat-switch which neither Mack nor Addy denied.

 

Now, all he heard was the constant romantic chirping with one another.

 

He tried to block it out, leaning his head against the window and hoping the empty void would consume him again, but alas, it hadn't.

 

Murphy heard Mack lean over and sniff Addy, not all too subtly, and honestly, odd if anything.

 

He cleared his throat as Addy looked over at him, as shocked as Murphy was disgusted.

 

"What?" Her voice was quiet, moving her arm off of him so that they were facing one another.

 

Mack only laughed quietly to himself, leaning closer to Addy. "No offense babe, but you need a bath."

 

Everyone needed a bath. Get used to it. If anything, Murphy wanted a nice hot bath with a glass of champagne and rose petals floating around, but it's the apocalypse-- for the second time, so you gotta learn to suck it up and get used to it.

 

Addy raised her eyebrow, voice turning incredibly high-pitched. "Do I?"

 

"Yeah."

 

God, Murphy could not take their odd couple romantic interactions. Seriously, even Serena hadn't been that weird…in that sense, Murphy supposed.

 

"Oh, okay." Addy joked right along. "Yeah, when was the last time you changed your underwear, goat-boy?"

 

He saw Mack lean closer to Addy, smiling in her ear. "What underwear?"

 

In God's name.

 

Murphy grumbled, loud enough for the couple to hear. Downside about not being in the Junker, he heard the young couples odd flirting techniques, and he couldn't say he was proud of it. Or them. Seriously, this is what his one-eyed zombie slayer started out as? Laughing at her boyfriend telling that she smelled and that he didn't wear underwear?

 

He didn't even have to lift his head to know the couple sent him a glare, but he didn't really mind.

 

What did get him to lift his head was Garnett and Warren's conversing on a matter in front of the truck.

 

"It looks like a family."

 

Oh shit, here we go again.

 

Murphy pulled himself up, abandoning his idea of sleep as he looked at the two parents and their young, deadly children. He wouldn't say he still had nightmares of the kids shooting their hostages, but God was it hard to forget.

 

They were standing to the side of the road, no car, just a backpack with their hands hidden behind their backs. Sign number one of getting the hell out of there.

 

"Are we gonna stop?" Addy asked, leaning against Warren's seat to look at the children. He knew she had a soft spot for kids, but he hoped Warren would see through the ploy.

 

Warren remained silent, but slowed the car.

 

"We're not stopping for them." He couldn't hide his incredulous tone, watching as Warren's foot lowered on the brake.

 

"We'll see if they need help, then be on with our way." Warren replied, keeping it simple yet authoritative, but Murphy wasn't about to stop arguing.

 

"Everyone needs help in the apocalypse. We can't save them all." He patted the back of Warren's seat, hoping she'd keep going.

 

But, of course, she didn't.

 

"We can't just leave them. They have kids." Addy pointed towards the family, eyes wide as she stared at the young girl and boy.

 

"Yeah. Deadly kids." Murphy scoffed. Screw keeping time travel a secret. He wasn't about to let the group fall for this again. "How do you think they lived in the apocalypse for so long?"

 

Addy huffed, none of them seeing his point, as Warren stopped beside the family, rolling down her window to look at them.

 

"Hey, you folks need some help?" She called to the father who was next to the window.

 

Murphy could see the man's face twitch, and again, he wasn't too fond with where this was going.

 

"Yeah." The man raised his gun, pointing it at Warren's head as the rest of his family did the same, yet on all the others of the group. "Get out of the truck. I don't want to kill you."

 

Warren's face was quick to switch from shock to annoyance, a grumble forming at the back of her throat. None of them moved and no command was given, causing the mother to get anxious.

 

"Get out of the truck!" She yelled, pushing her boy aside who's pistol was positioned on 10K and Doc.

 

"Garnett?" Mack asked, his own .22 raised, but it was useless when one shot fired would cost Warren's life.

 

"Get out." Garnett mumbled reluctantly getting out of the pickup as everyone followed, the guns still positioned on them.

 

The group and Blake couldn't even spread out. The family kept them bunched close together, much to Murphy's dismay as he was placed right next to Blake.

 

"Now put down your weapons." The father commanded, earning more than enough grumbles and irritated looks. Regardless, the group was forced to obliged, setting down their weapons at their feet. Murphy kept his throwing knife tucked in his pocket, sparing his pistol which was quickly snatched by the little girl.

 

"Hey!" He yelled. They hadn't taken their weapons last time!

 

But this time, that's exactly what they did, grabbing all their guns that they had placed down and Addy's Z-Whacker, which the red-head was none too pleased about.

 

"Don't mean to render you defenseless, but…" The father trailed off, starting the truck engine as his family hopped inside. "Survival of the fittest."

 

Damn apocalypse people.

 

The trucked revved, the tires squealing as the family drove off with most of their weapons and their vehicle.

 

Murphy couldn't help but curse their luck, watching as the others trailed around the area in frustration, kicking the dirt in anger. Now, they were walking. At least last time they were able to ride in the slow piece of shit car.

 

"Never get out of the boat." Doc grumbled, watching the family drive away.

 

Walking and without most of their long-range weapons.

 

He ignored Blake's glare at the back of his head, instead giving Warren one of his own 'What did I tell you' looks that used to annoy the heck out of Hammond. Warren only shook her head, hands on her hips as her head traveled across the skyline in an effort to calm down.

 

Garnett shook his head, taking a deep, more than frustrated breath. "Alright." He sighed. "I don't want to get caught in the dark…let's keep moving."

 

On foot…Great.

 

But that's what they did, continuing on with constant cries of complaining and disgruntled moans. Murphy wouldn't admit that half of them were his.

 

By the time their feet were aching and they wasted half the day walking, they all managed to climb over a dune, scoping out for zombies and anymore bandits that seemed to be a constant theme on Hell's Highway.

 

Doc was having an animated conversation in the back with Mack, 10K, and Cassandra, while Blake and Addy spoke fondly with one another. Tempted to split Blake away from Addy, Murphy was stopped short when Warren and Garnett slowed in front of them.

 

"Is that what I think it is?" Warren shielded her eyes, one hand falling in relief once seeing their truck swerved against another dune.

 

"Looks like our truck." Garnett squinted as the others walked over.

 

Doc shook his head, glancing around the pickup truck. "Where's the family gone?"

 

That didn't seem to be a main priority to Garnett, grabbing his hammer that was strapped across his leg. "Maybe abandoned?" The man offered, looking around the perimeter for the family.

 

"Or dead." Pessimism.

 

He hated when Blake read off the situation. He could feel her eyes piercing him as she spoke.

 

"Always a possibility." Warren wasn't one to deny, unsheathing her machete as she stealthy started her way forward.

 

Murphy took his knife back out as Blake followed with her axe; Doc with his crowbar; Cassandra with her knife, and 10K with his slingshot. The kid started before the others to the side of Warren as his gaze fell around the truck.

 

"Zombies." 10K alerted, raising a gear in his slingshot, carefully making his way forward. "Other side of the truck."

 

They all got the memo as Warren motioned for Garnett, himself, and Mack to follow her. Doc, 10K, Addy, Blake, and Cassandra all took the other side, sneaking their way around in hopes not to alert the zombies.

 

Murphy wasn't surprised when they rounded the corner. He didn't gasp like some of the others did. Like the last time, the family was spread across the road getting munched on as a feast for the zombies.

 

The mother's organs were ripped from her body; the father's face demolished as a Z bite into it. Even the children weren't given a chance to turn without getting limbs and organs taken off of them. Except since it took them so long this time, the family was now reanimated as zombies while most of the other corpses moved on to their next meal.

 

From the other side, Murphy saw Addy shake, bringing her hands to her mouth as she backed up. PTSD. Great time for it to act up now.

 

Garnett's face shadowed over, eyes trailing along the forms of the zombie children stocking towards them.

 

They all knew they couldn't hesitate any longer. Without any command, those who had a weapon, and not rendered useless in shock, moved forward mercying the zombie version of the family with ease. Warren slicing the father's brain in mercy as Garnett tag-teamed with her, easily taking out the mother who rushed behind them.

 

There was hesitation from the rest, stuck in their spots to give mercy to the children. Despite seeing the green skin protrude from the decaying face and clouded eyes, the gruesome scene was hard to stand in front of, watching as children whom were alive a few hours ago get eaten.

 

But they were zombies begging for mercy in Murphy's head, and the best thing to do was to set them free. They weren't like Talkers. A Bizkuit wasn't going to cure them of their need for brains. Like every other zombie before Black Rainbow was ignited, they were only people trapped within a body craving human flesh.

 

It hadn't been easy, but they finished off the rest of the Zs, each grabbing their own weapon and hopping back into the truck. Garnett took to driving this time, lying his head against the steering wheel for a moment.

 

"We need to get off this road."

 

A detour from Hell's Highway.

 

--- line break---

 

Simon's POV:

 

Finding Delta-Xray was no bueno. No matter where he checked, the group was off his radar completely. He couldn't find them in any towns, run-down lots, or cities. Simon even circled back to Pennsylvania, but still, no such luck.

 

After this whole week of trying to find them, and getting nowhere in getting any sort of location, Simon decided to do the next best thing. Continue on his log.

 

The list wasn't too long on the team's status, but then again, everyone on there was dead, so it didn't really matter anymore.

 

Name:                          Rank:                  Cause:

Hammond, Mark      Lieutenant            Unknown

Valdez, Raymond      Sergeant               Zombie

Strong, Matthew K.   Specialist              Zombie

Donald, Terry J.          Staff Sergeant      Zombie

Greene, Justin             Sergeant             Hostile Fire

Walker, Jacob H.         Specialist              Hostile Fire

Farrell, Deric                Specialist             Unknown

Fisher, James L.          Master Sergeant    Zombie   

Vazquez, Jesse             Specialist             Zombie

Gordon, Forrest            Sergeant              Hostile IED

 

All the names were marked in red, ending the list with the whole team meeting their demise. Not that Simon should be surprised. Fisher, Vazquez, Strong, Donald, Valdez, Walker, Hammond-- they all glitched when Simon would see them on screen. He knew, at some point sooner than later, they would all meet the fate that their glitches portrayed.

 

"Sergeant Raymond Valdez. Delta Force. Deceased."

 

The picture of the group appeared as Simon placed the word across the deceased man's photograph. Pup whined at the mention of deceased, but Simon carried on with his log, recording his voice as he went on to Hammond's.

 

"Lieutenant Mark Hammond. Delta Force. Deceased. Cause of death: Unknown."

 

He paused for a moment, thinking back to the group. Hammond speaking to him even though he had been sure the man was a goner, and then being told the news that the last member of Delta Force was dead. He fell back in his seat, sighing for a moment as he tried to think it over.

 

None of them had told him what Hammond's cause of death was, but clearly when the man had glitched, there had been enough characteristics in those brief moments to describe him as a zombie. The ripped open gut, small and large bitemarks lining the Lieutenant's body. If the glitch was anything to go by, which had seemed pretty accurate up until this point, then it was obvious Hammond had died from a zombie.

 

"Cause of death: Zombie." Simon corrected, fixing it into his computer from "Unknown" to "Zombie".

 

He picked up his recorder again, continuing on to Murphy AKA The Package. He noted mentally that the man despised the name.

 

"Alvin Bernard Murphy. AKA Patient Zero." Somehow, that name didn't feel right either.

 

Simon did a quick check of Murphy's record. There was nothing really that stood out as important to the mission though. Sure, Simon knew the man's height. 6'1'', but that's only a way to flaunt the other man's height compared to Simon's. Weight, again, wasn't important, and Murphy's gender or race didn't adhere to the mission either.

 

It was more like snooping into the man's personal business with looking at the man's birthday, '8-12-73' to be exact, or even his prison sentence or why. Those two only played a factor as to how the man became the carrier of the cure. Still, it was useful to contribute to his log.

 

"Previously serving three years in federal prison, " Or supposed to serve. "-for postal fraud. Compulsory volunteer, project Bite Mark. Status: Believed to be en route to Mt. Wilson CDC lab, California."

 

Simon switched to the next document he found. He only had a limited amount of knowledge on the new group tasked with taking Murphy to California, so he tried to list as many as he could.

 

"Sergeant Charles Garnett, National Guard. Believed to be in possession of…Murphy."

 

He stuttered. Patient Zero didn't feel proper even though it was, and The Package was one the man had repeatedly told him not to be called. Simon's next best bet was just calling the man Murphy for formalities sake.

 

"Current location: Somewhere south of Philadelphia." Or west, or north. He cursed his luck at not being able to track Delta-Xray.

 

"-accompanied by an unknown number of civilians."

 

He clicked off his own recording, listening to Addy's instead from back in the police car.

 

"Come in, Citizen Z. Mayday. Mayday. This is Addison Carver with Delta-Xray-Delta." Addison Carver. He tilted his head to the side, listening to the rest. "Trying to contact Citizen Z."

 

"Addy Carver." His own voice overlapped with the recording as he spoke. "Doesn't sound military." Then again, parents don't just decide to name their children military names.

 

He cut off the recording, opting to find Addy's identity online. "Slightly east coast accent. I wonder." Despite his prying for this mysterious, yet familiar woman, Simon was blocked from his interaction.

 

"Level nine top secret clearance only." He read aloud, his voice becoming slightly more cocky. "That would be me."

 

He continued to look, pulling up with all the sights Addy had used Pre-Apocalypse that had any information on her.

 

"Facebook, Friendster, Twitter, Tinder." He read aloud, clicking on the most recent used three years ago. Pictures posted with Addy living a normal life were plastered across the page. Her sharing photos, posting art works, posing for pictures; it was all still stationed online. No wonder everyone said what you post will be there forever. Even at the end of the world.

 

 "A regular trip down memory lane. Someday this will be all that's left of us."

 

Too bad nobody would see it. Unless of course, aliens exist and find a way to access the internet, only to find how messed up people of the world used to be. Typical.

 

He scrolled through the pictures that she posted, and with each and every one, she seemed to get even more beautiful. Her red-hair was perfect, eyes gorgeous, and smile one that could light up the world.

 

"Addison Carver, AKA Addy. Age twenty-six. Student." And a drop-dead gorgeous gal… Oh wait, probably not the best to say in the apocalypse. "Believed to be accompanying Murphy to Mt. Wilson regarding Operation Bitemark." He recorded again, smiling as he scanned her photo. "Last contact: seven days ago. Status: single."

 

He paused on what he said for a moment, thinking what it was actually asking. He couldn't help but hide a giggle, correcting himself. "I mean, Status: unknown."

 

He set down the recorder, glancing back over Addy's beautiful picture in the doorframe of what looked to be a living room.

 

"What a tomato."

 

He smacked himself, looking away from the screen for a moment to recompose himself. Yes, Addy is gorgeous and perfect and awesome, and really, Simon could let the list go on and on, but that wasn't his priority right now. He closed off of the page, racketing his brain for anything else he missed.

 

Garnett, Murphy, Addy. Those were the only ones he knew about. Weren't they? They were the only ones he was told of with the traveling group of civilians escorting Murphy.

 

Simon closed his eyes, rubbing his hands against his temples, trying to focus.

 

There were names on his mind. Ones that seemed so familiar and yet held no meaning. He decided to take a shot in the dark, pushing himself up to look at his monitor again.

 

"Alright, alright. Let's try…" Doing the same as he had done with Addy, he searched the entirety of the name, hoping to pick up and remember enough about the person he was looking for.

 

"Lieutenant Roberta Warren…Huh." The name seemed so normal on his tongue, but he couldn't recall why, even when looking at the confident woman's pose in her photo in uniform for the National Guard. Regardless, he picked up his recorder, jotting it down as well.

 

"Lieutenant Roberta Warren, National Guard. Believed to be a part of escorting Murphy to California."  He read the data and information on her quickly before searching the other names before he lost them.

 

"Steven Beck, former Navy Seaman." Steven Beck, Steven Beck. Somehow the name wasn't as familiar. "Another member believed to be a part of Delta-Xray in traveling to the CDC."

 

He paused for a moment, squinting his eyes as he scanned over the older man's white hair tied in a man-bun or neatly trimmed beard. Again, the man looked like an old friend, but Simon knew he never meant him.

 

That didn't stop him from continuing on, taking another name out of those he briefly remembered. "Mack Thompson." The man on the screen was only displayed by a picture taken by a hockey team. Supposedly Thompson hadn't really seemed to care about outside resources on the internet. "Tri-City Americans hockey player." Probably one of the least professions that would keep you alive in the apocalypse besides the amount of rage that could be applied to killing Zs.

 

"Believed to be a member of Delta-Xray-Delta as well."

 

For whatever reason, Simon could already say he held a disdain towards the man.

 

He tapped his fingers on the table, twirling the recorder in his hands, deep in thought with the last two names. He couldn't quite make them out, no matter the amount of times he racketed his brain for answers.

 

Instead of recording the names, he typed it into his notes on the computer, knowing it was useless with looking up two names that could be anyone in the world.

 

"Cassandra and Thomas…" He squinted his eyes again, repeating Thomas's name in his head. It still didn't sound right, no matter the times he thought it over, or tried to place a face with the name. "(10K)" He added in parenthesis, just for the sake that it felt like it was incorporated with the name.

 

"Alright." Simon stretched, getting out of his chair for a moment to pat Pup on the head. "Are you hungry?" A whine formed in the back of Pup's throat. "I'm hungry."

 

Passing by the mirror, sparing a glance in hopes he'd see himself glitch and having no such luck, he went to prepare some pork that was stored away. Afraid to open the back door with the zombie dogs roaming around the frozen terrain, Simon went to the next best room, cooking the pork chops near a window that was broken at the top.

 

After freezing his ass off, regardless of wearing the thickest coat he could find, he brought his and Pup's meal back. He dropped Pup's meal into his bowl, filling the other with bottled water as the husky lapped both down.

 

Simon couldn't hide his reaction as Pup glitched again, momentarily seeing his new friend with a bullet in his head. He nearly dropped his own meal, recovering quickly as Pup glanced up at him, giving a sound that seemed to be of concern.

 

"Don't worry about me, bud." Simon sighed, setting down his meal as he shook himself to rid the memories. "Just…"

 

He trailed off, settling back into his rolling chair and taking small bites of his food. Simon's eyes glanced around his monitors, watching footage of zombies running around rampantly or survivors fending off the Z's from their fellow team mates. Everyone nowadays looked so skinny and pale. Too malnourished. Too exhausted.

 

Simon knew he had it good here. Despite no human interaction, he had food, electricity, water, safety. He felt guilty, watching the people of the world die off as he ate his grilled pork-chop.

 

He set his meal aside, going back to doing what he did best.

 

"To update today's top stories…Absolutely nothing new is going on in this decimated world of ours." He switched monitors, changing his focus to a new set of crumbling buildings and feral zombies.

 

"It's the same desperation, the same devastation everywhere you look."

 

One of the Zs pounced on a woman protecting her child, and Simon looked away, catching a glitch of both the mother and daughter as zombies.

 

He returned his attention back to his main, huge monitor, glancing around the four-way split screen. It was all the same. Packs of zombies crowding hallways and stairwells. Chasing after whatever their rotting brains could formulate, and pushing past one another in an effort to get there. Besides zombies, some rando placed cat videos playing a piano all online, and continued to do so during the apocalypse.

 

He couldn't help but lean back in his seat, watching the cat video play on repeat. "And who the hell keeps posting all these cat videos?"

 

The uplifting music blared as the screen showed different side angles of the black and white cat pawing away at the keys. It worried Simon for a second, thinking that some videos he made as a child with his pet got leaked online.

 

Pup whined, lip raising as he watched the cat on the screen.

 

"We should have known piano playing kittens was a harboring of the Apocalypse." He let out a sigh, pausing the video as a new alert beep.

 

Simon switched screens again, turning to his side to pick up the spiked frequency somewhere in low Pennsylvania, nearly right on the border of Maryland. He tracked it in record time, but the noise caused Pup to let out a soft barked.

 

Without any authority in his voice, Simon yelled Pup's way. "Quiet!" God, he loved finally having something to talk to. Other than himself, that is.

 

Once the location was tracked, Simon placed his headphones back on his head, getting a unclear image of a group of people on screen. From as much as he could tell, they all looked worried and far too close to the screen, glancing from one another as the brown-headed man looked directly at him.

 

Simon's glitching didn't focus on any of them, the screen being too distorted to act up. Regardless, with his own regular vision, he was able to pick up the features of the people fairly decently, and God did they look familiar.

 

The screen went from white-noise back to the picture, but it always stayed warped.

 

"This is Sergeant Charles Garnett calling Camp Northern Light." The distant voice of the brown-haired man spoke.

 

Garnett. The mental image in his head was more than clear as a reminder of what the man looked like, despite how wacky the screen looked.

 

"Charles Garnett calling Northern Light. Come in, Northern Light."

 

Simon perked up at seeing the man, nodding his head despite Garnett not being able to see it.

 

"Can you read me? Citizen Z, are you there? Over."

 

It was so good to know the group, or some of the group, was still alive. Almost like a large weight was lifted off of Simon's shoulders.

 

"Yes!" He replied all too enthusiastically, nodding his head vigorously. "This is Northern Light for Garnett. Citizen Z hitting you right back. Go for Garnett."

 

The man looked so relieved against the screen freaking out as he spoke. "Thank God. We've been trying to make this thing work for hours."

 

As so it looked. The sky looked to be getting darker behind the group, but Simon was able to make out a few figures milling around. He was able to make out Murphy, clearly, as the man stood behind Garnett, tilting his head towards whatever the group was trying to communicate on.

 

Murphy seemed to have cleaned himself up some since the last time Simon saw him, hair pushed back and comb, beard still frilly  but not as dirty or ratty. Still, it looked like the same Murphy, besides the spasming of glitches he would usually get from the man.

 

Farther back was Lieutenant Warren, who Simon had researched prior. It almost felt like a punch to the gut seeing her there, despite the fact that it was only a guess with his 'remembrance' of certain things. Deja-vu, if anything.

 

Thompson and Addy were a little ways back, but the screen refused to pick up their forms all too well. Nearby was another woman, seeming to be in her early to mid thirties-- close to his own age, actually. Despite her ginger hair or darker skin, Simon couldn't place anything familiar with the woman like he could with the others of the group.

 

Moving away from looking at the ginger-headed woman, he saw Steven Beck, and the two who he assumed were Cassandra and Thomas.

 

The girl, Cassandra, that is if Simon could go by anything of his Deja-vu, was standing beside the truck as Steven was sitting in the truck bed. Thomas, or 10K as Simon seemed fitting for whatever reason, was holding a satellite while standing in the truck bed next to Steven.

 

Garnett motioned back behind him towards the group of Delta-Xray as Simon turned his attention back towards the Sergeant.

 

"What are you broadcasting on?" He couldn't help but ask. The screen was going crazy on his end, and he couldn't help but blame it on whatever Delta-Xray was using, since he knew his equipment wasn't the problem.

 

"Uh…" Garnett hesitated, seemingly embarrassed with responding. "Clowny the French Fry guy."

 

Huh. One day the contraption sounds familiar, and later on, your reminded why.

 

"One of our team, Carver jerry-rigged a drive thru camera."

 

Addy? Simon's attention didn't focus much on what they decided to broadcast on, or why it sounded familiar, but instead on the mention of Addy Carver.

 

"Addy Carver?" Just to be sure, he asked.

 

"Yeah." Garnett gave a quick nod, confused at Simon's sudden interest in Addy.

 

"Is she there?" He didn't think the group could see his meek smile as he spoke. "I wanna say hi."

 

"Oh, okay..."

 

Garnett looked even more confused despite the distorted screen, slowly turning around to motion Addy over, the gorgeous red-head seeming as shocked as Garnett.

 

He watched the screen intently as Addy jogged her way over, looking even more beautiful on live footage compared to Pre-Apocalypse photos. Her red-hair curved her face perfectly, dreadlocks hanging against her side with a couple beads laced within it. Even her attire for the apocalypse made her look like a model.

 

"Hi, Addy." He started off awkwardly, entranced in her beauty.

 

Addy waved at him, getting cut off slightly with the screen glitching out again. "Hey." She greeted just as awkwardly, and Simon could guess that it was hard talking to a French Fry voice box while talking to him on the other side.

 

Instead of going off on something about the weather, he tried his luck at apologizing first off. "Sorry about not being there to keep the cannibals away. You're not hurt, are you?"

 

She didn't look like they did anything to her, but he had to be sure.

 

Addy seemed touched for his concern, but more so confused because of it. "Yeah, yeah…I'm-- um, I'm good. The group got to me in time." She smiled back at the camera, causing Simon to smile as well.

 

He didn't even pick up on the fogged over look Addy got when he mentioned the cannibals before he carried on with the nice, quaint conversation with the red-head he was falling for. "How's everything going down there? It's been awhile since we last spoke."

 

Addy's eyebrows creased, biting her bottom lip in confusion as Simon saw Murphy throw his hands up from behind her.

 

"Um…It's pretty eff'd up actually." She nodded her head quickly as the screen shifted quickly from white-noise to static and then back to her. "How's it going wherever you are?"

 

Garnett ran a hand across his lip, silently asking if anyone else was hearing this when he looked back towards Delta-Xray, but Simon ignored it, content with talking to Addy.

 

He couldn't help but laugh, it being forever since he talked to a real, alive woman. "Aw you know, same ol' same ol' " He smiled like an idiot, even though nobody besides Pup could see him.

 

"Busy keeping an eye on the world…" Ending the awkward but lovely interaction, he chose his next question. "What can I do for you folks?"

 

Steven came up towards the screen, long white hair falling in his face, differentiating from the picture of the man's hair tied back and beard neatly trimmed. Then again, that's what the apocalypse did to you.

 

"Can we get a chocolate shake and fries for ten thousand men?" He heard the older man joke, but it was cut off with Murphy and Lieutenant Warren's voices mixing in with each other's.

 

"Seriously? Now?"

 

"C'mon guys."

 

With the exuberance of people intermingling on the screen, berating one another, the camera started to glitch even more, while the others just became more frustrated with one another.

 

By doing so, Murphy moved closer to the screen from behind Garnett, allowing Simon a clear view of the man. Murphy had managed to stay on screen with Hammond enough, so it was easy for him to decipher who he was most times. Still, he tried a biometric scan, figuring he'd try one on the rest of the group later to get more background on them.

 

Confirming that the cleaned up man was indeed Murphy, he smiled back towards the camera. "Glad to see your still alive, Murphy."

 

Murphy almost looked relieved, letting his shoulders sag as he walked away with an off-comment of, "At least you're not calling me 'The Package' still."

 

And yet, the man always managed to stay the same every single time Simon saw him.

 

With Addy's face in front of the camera, Garnett behind as Steven stood beside the Sergeant and Thompson watching Murphy walk away, the scene was more than conglomerated, but he could still make out what Garnett was saying.

 

"Yeah, but he won't be for long if we don't get off this highway." Garnett pointed to seemingly nothing that Simon could see. "We're in desperate need of alternate transpo. We're looking for an airplane or a chopper or a hot air balloon." Garnett listed off, showing how desperate they were. "Anything airborne."

 

Well…he had one thing that he had been monitoring, but then again, Simon still failed to come up with an answer from the General.

 

But still, it was what the group was looking for.

 

"Uh…There is one thing. I've been monitoring some random transmissions from what's left of the Emergency Headquarters for Infection Control. I can hear them, but they don't respond when I reply." Which begged the question if they could hear him, or he was just being ignored. "And it's pretty garbled."

 

He turned back to the screen, watching the group listen to him intensely. "General McCandles might still be holed up there…"

 

Simon thought for a second, staring at the aerial view of the roof with chopper he had been monitoring. "I've been checkin' on this chopper he has stationed there. I can't say for sure, but it could be what you're looking for."

 

He paused for a moment, thinking over what repercussions it would have if he didn't alert them. "I'm not sure if it's even of use anymore. The General hasn't used it, nor has anyone else. You can always try your luck though, seeing as how this is all I got."

 

Garnett nodded, looking more relived then ever. "Where is it?"

 

"McClain Virginia. Twenty clicks due west of Washington DC." He informed. "Look for a high-rise with structural damage and a chopper on the roof."

 

It was quick when Murphy argued, causing Simon's brows to draw together. The man always acted like that when he knew something bad would happen. Somehow, someway, Murphy always knew.

 

"That's a hundred miles south of here. Besides, we got no idea if the thing even works." Murphy's gaze fell on Steven too briefly for many of the others to notice.

 

"Well we need to get off this road." Garnett argued back.

 

"Off this road doesn't mean traveling south. We gotta go west, remember? Can't take the off-road 'cuz it'll set us off course?" Murphy argued again, wild hand motions as he moved forward.

 

"Um--" Simon tried to intervene. "If I could inject a word of opinion?"

 

His voice was drowned out from trying to warn the group that Murphy could be right with his incredible sense at knowing what's danger as Delta-Xray continued to argue.

 

"Maybe Murphy's right." The unusual ginger-haired woman spoke, seeming displeased with what came out of her mouth. "Maybe there's somewhere safer."

 

"Somewhere safer means we gotta travel down that highway again." Steven interjected, glancing between Garnett and the others as the screen continued to freak out.

 

Simon couldn't even get a word of advice in as Lieutenant Warren yelled over the others. "Puppies and Kittens."

 

That terminology was familiar, but Simon couldn't place why.

 

"We gotta go." The bickering quickly came to an end as Garnett informed Simon, Delta-Xray packing up and into the truck before Simon could say anything else at all.

 

With one last hope, Simon tried. "Bye Addison. Call me when you get there."

 

He wasn't even sure if she heard as the zombie crowded around the camera, cutting his view off from Delta-Xray. Simon sighed heavily, leaning against his seat as the zombies got close and personal to the camera, showing their gory mess to him.

 

Simon couldn't help but cringe, looking away from the monitor and back to Pup. The husky's paw was over his nose, seeming disappointed that Simon hadn't gotten the group to heave his advice.

 

"We tried, Pup."

 

Now he just had to watch to make sure the group was safe when they got there and got out.

Notes:

…I just want to start off with saying this isn't like my usual end notes.

A couple days ago, my younger brother's cat died. It was so out of the blue too. A couple days before the 7th, we noticed that something was wrong. She was skinner, breathing weird. We took her to the vet and they told us she had severe asthma. It was odd that she hadn't shown signs of this before, but we took her home, and an hour and a half later, she started to breathe even worse. By that time, we had rushed her to the vet again, but right as we pulled into the vet's driveway, she died. I swear, I have never prayed harder than during that drive just watching her spasm and all.

It's crappy because I don't know what else we could have done, and it's really hard on my brother. That cat was seriously devoted to him and him only. The cat was only three years old too. With just getting the news that day and then her dying the day of…If you can, please pray for him. If you don't believe in God, please wish him inner peace… Thank you and sorry about going off like this.

Coming Soon:
Full Metal Zombie Remake (Part Two)

Chapter 16: Full Metal Zombie Remake (Part Two)

Notes:

I don't have any excuses for being late. Sorry for the hold up. I was writing this chapter, and this was going to be the last one for this episode, but 6 POV's in one was just way too much. Besides that, this past week has been hectic without being hectic, y'know? Enjoy!

 

Blake's POV:

 

Night was already starting to creep up on them. It had taken so long to find the truck again, get in contact with Simon, and then drive some more to a destination one hundred miles away, that Blake knew making it to McClain West Virgina was a long-shot hope today. That wasn't even counting the amount of times the truck broke down on them or they had to search for gas.

 

As per Blake's theories, she assumed that the family had gotten the truck for (possibly) longer this time around. If that was correct, solely based off of Murphy's reactions, then the family could have done a lot more damage to the truck. Not only because it broke down more times than enough prior to the bandits, but because the group found the damn thing nearly crashed into a dune-- engine and all front first into the packed dirt alongside the road.

 

So, they weren't exempted from troubles, neither were they able to make it to McClain before the sun set and darkness started to consume them.

 

Blake had never been to West Virgina before--even traveling in the apocalypse from both the past life and now. All she could say for her first experience was that it wasn't the nicest. Not a rated 10/10, that's for sure.

 

West Virgina wasn't really as populated as New York or Pennsylvania, so just starting to make their way through the state was similar to driving through Amish Country. Then it started to pick up. She wouldn't call them hordes, but there was definitely a number of Zs that scattered the area. The group had tried their best bet, hoping some houses around or buildings could provide them shelter.

 

The idea hadn't turned out as well as they hoped. Swarms of Zs flocked through, and the occasional group of survivors would come and snatch it. If bandits on the road weren't enough today, it was the random groups that let Operation Bitemark fend off the zombies while taking the opportunity to get inside the house-- barricading the door in the process, and all but watching Operation Bitemark run the other way with no shelter.

 

For one of the first times in her life, Blake could fully admit she hated most people. The apocalypse brought out the worst in humanity, and that's exactly what they got to experience first hand.

 

With the shelters around town either unstable, crowded with the undead, or snatched right in front of them, Garnett and Warren had made the decision to set camp in an unoccupied woods.

 

Pine trees were swaying with the nightly breeze, rustling the neighboring branches against one another. The thick greenery reminded her that it was still Spring time, as flowers bloomed in all spaces where nobody had the time or really cared to watch over the spreading wildflowers and uncut grass. It was beautiful while at the same time being depressing.

 

Before it had gotten too dark, they had managed to set up a small camp. A fire crackled in the middle as smoke billowed up through the fine pine needles above. Most of the group's sleeping bags were sprawled around the area, while only a lucky few were able to rest in the truck or in the truck bed.

 

Blake had not been one of the lucky ones.

 

Then again, she didn't really mind. Murphy was told he'd sleep in the backseat of the truck, and with being a couple weeks of traveling on Operation Bitemark's adventures, she had found the man to be one that snored. His decaying smell that Blake knew correlated to the vaccine was also one of the many reasons she, and most of the others, stayed away.

 

Blake took a deep breath, patting out her sleeping bag onto the long grass littered plane. She was lucky the group had found a place that wasn't too high in grass lengths, if only for the sake that Blake wasn't willing to deal with snakes slithering around or zombies lurking in it, using the grass as their cover.

 

If they were even smart enough to do that.

 

Doc was rested near the fire, rubbing his hands together in hopes to warm up some. Seeing as how the temperature dropped, Blake couldn't help but waver towards heading over to the older man to follow suit. Warren was rummaging through the truck and their bags, as well as the bag the mercied family had set in the truck.

 

Blake felt her heart ache at having to mercy the children, but zombies were zombies with a soul trapped within the decaying body. It was either set them free or let them suffer. Blake couldn't say that same knowledge applied to every case scenario though. Murphy's Blends, specifically.

 

As Blake's mind wandered about the dictator, she couldn’t help as her eyes were drawn over towards the devil. He wasn't too far away from the group, but enough to where the fire casted a subtle glow of orange against his greying skin. Her mind nearly tricked her into seeing the cocky, red-skinned man with swooshed back gelled hair and a long goatee with a distinct white patch in the middle. She could almost fool herself into seeing the dictator who ruled unwilling people in Altura or Toivo, and terrified the humans who were succumbing to the fate of being the thing they fought against.

 

Her anger rose, staring at him, but she pushed it down as she shifted her way over towards him. She made quick work, hoping the group wouldn't spare her odd glances, but then again, she wasn't sure any of them would really care about her relationship with the man unless it jeopardized the mission.

 

And kicking the man in the shin was anything but that.

 

Murphy idly picked at his nails, not bothering to spare her a glance as if he knew she would make her way over there at some point. The fact only seemed to grate on Blake's nerves further. She had plenty of reasons to despise the man, but the fact that he could assume her moves just as she could guess his, was all the more infuriating.

 

But she had a mission, and sadly, that meant she had to be willing enough to communicate and work with him.

 

Her anger slowly diminished as she thought back to the scars lining 10K's neck, or the blood caked on his and Cassandra's hands. Sure, maybe now they were finally returning to themselves, but something had happened back at Philly that Blake couldn't shake off. She knew it was something different, but she needed to know how different.

 

Murphy knew what happened last time. If she got a clear understanding of what happened in the past life, she could compare reactions (and hopefully) knowledge to what happened this time.

 

She leaned herself against a tree next to Murphy, watching the group rest by the fire. Doc was now joined by Mack and Addy-- the two Love Bugs had snuck out into the woods for some time to themselves. Garnett was checking over the truck, discussing options, tactics, and the plan with Warren as the woman picked through their remaining supply of food. Cassandra was pulled up next to the fire, resting on her sleeping bag as her legs were curled up to her chest and her hand ran along something lying in her pocket. Besides her and Murphy, the only one separated a little way away from the group was 10K, who until Blake started to stare at him, was watching her.

 

She assumed that was normal for a hypervigilant zombie apocalypse survivor who was used to being a loner.

 

Murphy scoffed beside her, looking her over before scooting himself a lengths away. "I hope you're not making it a habit of kicking the shit out of me every ten hours."

 

Blake honestly wouldn't mind replacing that habit over biting her nails. Seemed much more satisfying.

 

"Don't count on it." She shook her head towards him, looking back towards Doc. "Can't see that being so good on my track-record with the others. Especially when you try to play victim."

 

She had a suspicion that the group would have been glad if some of them could get a few good licks on the man. That is, only in the past life. It was easy to observe that Murphy wasn't a total asshole this time around with the group. So, beating the man up (no matter the insanity or evil he had committed in the past life) was not viewed in a good light this time.

 

"What 'track-record' would you even keep clean when you're a part of the Risen?" He spat right back, stuck in the past life as much as Blake was.

 

"Far more of one compared to you." Blake almost yelled, feeling the sudden urge to vent out all her rage that she would have liked to pack in that kick. Murphy had the tendency to act like he was at no fault. That his actions were justified while everyone else who disagreed was wrong. Her, the Risen, the ones he used to call 'Regulars'.

 

His track-record was no cleaner than hers. At least she had enough morality to want to keep the Blends alive; Murphy's big plan to save the world was to use them as an army against the Risen. Use the Blends to fight and gather more unwilling humans to put them under his control. There was that underlying sickness that Murphy refused to acknowledge when his mind centered around the world being peaceful under his reign.

 

The big new flash was, that it never was and it never will be a peaceful world.

 

She could see his own rising anger as he turned towards her, about ready to snap. His jaw was clenched, teeth pressed together as his eyes trialed down to her cheek. Blake knew the signs when they were presented, hand falling down to her pistol strapped to her side.

 

The sudden urge to turn her into his Blend almost completely vanished off his face, eyes falling to her hand. His head nodded, a bubbling scoff forming at the back of his throat, his dulling blue eyes snapping up to look at her black ones.

 

"What happens when you do it?" Those same eyes fell back to the group, and Blake could barely make out that locked-up caring he either refused to show or tried to muster up for his act. "They won't let you."

 

"They won't." Blake repeated, confirming what he said as his eyes snapped back over to her.

 

She knew Operation Bitemark wouldn't let her kill the cure for humanity. They had no clue that she could go back in time if Operation Do-Over failed and Murphy refused to be a help to save the world. All the group saw was a woman that they thought they knew kill the man that was the last hope for humanity.

 

With that only hope gone, Blake knew her own punishment wouldn't be light. Even if she did try to explain herself, which would only make her sound like a crazy person.

 

Realization dawned on Murphy's face, a cold fury settling in his eyes." So what? You kill me, they won't let you go." He shook his head, his lip twitching as an unsettling thought flashed across his face and mind. "And when they don't let you carry out your mission, you'll do the only thing you're good at, huh?"

 

Beneath his anger, she knew he was taunting her. She knew he was trying to get her to a boiling point so that she would flip out on him, reveal she was unstable in front of the group, and end up with a mess she possibly couldn’t clean up.

 

"You'll kill them again. Wouldn't you?"

 

She didn't know what she'd do if Operation Bitemark prohibited her to carry out her own mission. Despite the Risen's commands, Blake had grown close to most of the members of the group. Killing them was like killing the people she cared about. But, in the end, if Murphy ended up dead by her own hand, and the group tried to stop her, Blake was afraid she would have to resort to that as a last option if nothing else worked.

 

There was always time travel to fix her errors, but even now, Blake knew with all her own beliefs she doesn't have the strength to kill any of them.

 

But she remained silent, and that only set Murphy off further.

 

Amidst the boiling anger, she could see fear laced within, and only she could assume it was the harsh reminders of the group dying. Her own mind traveled back to Murphy's screams, crying out, shouting as he had fell against his bonds each time a Blend-- each time the group-- had been shot. Yelling…begging Warren to turn back only for her to end up in the Risen's line of fire.

 

Blake could feel her hand squeeze against her pistol, remembering it had been the rebellion she was a part of that decided to kill all those innocents.

 

Through her silence, Murphy only grew angrier. "What should I have expected?" He scoffed, but his voice was much lower-- much quieter-- than before as he motioned over her. "You're a member of the Risen. That's all you know how to do."

 

Killing, destroying, breaking down the good that had been built up. That was all Murphy's one-way mind wandered to, only because he refused to acknowledge the full picture.

 

She may be a member of the Risen, but she was picked by the Leaders because she wasn't like all the others. Unlike her rebellion members who may be quick, great-shots, and agile, Blake was one of the only ones to keep a sense of moral with her throughout this hell.

 

"I don't know what you think," Her voice mimicked his, deadly low as her hand pushed him against the tree. He pushed back, grabbing ahold of her wrist, but she was quick to draw her pistol with the other, pointing it back against his side much like the first time they meant each other after they time traveled. "--But I never wanted any of the group dead. If I did, I wouldn't have been sent to travel with your sorry ass to keep them alive."

 

She shoved the gun further into his zombie bitten chest, pressing against the scabbing bite mark that she knew would hurt the man. Regardless of the pain, Murphy refused to flinch, only shifting uncomfortably under her weapon.

 

"Then you never would have let them kill my group." He emphasized back, his own grip tightening around her wrist. The words cut deeper than she previously expected.

 

She had never been informed of Option T, if she had, she would have been fully against it. But then again, with lack of mission related information being given to the rebellion soldiers, she would have never been told. It hurt all over again to enjoy watching Murphy suffer while tied up in the Risen's base, only to find out that what she was enjoying was the group's deaths.

 

It hurt every time, and that allowed Murphy his advantage, pushing her against the tree in place of him. His unexpected strength caused Blake to lose most of her concentration to shock. Murphy seized her pistol, pushing it against her own side as a sardonic smile spread across his face.

 

Her breath hitched, knowing he could shoot her at any second, but his smile fell some when the shuffling and voices of the group met their ears. She could see his eye twitch, a down-hearted look to his eyes when he knew he couldn't kill her with the group around. Blake knew he wouldn't despite the fear she tried to hide.

 

Murphy hadn't convinced the group that she was anymore untrustworthy and worth killing, than Blake had convinced them that he was too big of a threat for their safety left unnoticed. Neither could do what they wanted without the group turning on either of them with consequences for fulfilling actions.

 

The gun pressed against her side lightened, but didn't go away, as Murphy leaned closer to her. The lean was similar to when people kiss, but too closely related to when Murphy bit people. Blake tried to draw away, but he held her against the tree's rough bark, instead, whispering in her ear.

 

"I know why the Risen sent you here. You think you can save the group, keep them alive, but you've got all the power in the world to kill them just as quickly. Trust me, I've known them longer than you. Whatever you think you're mission is, isn't even close to what you're trying to deal with."

 

The unsettling threat was one Blake suppressed from showing fear to, even as Murphy pushed off of her, hanging the pistol in his other hand in front of her-- his finger already off of the trigger.

 

She snatched it back from him, too quickly that it showed her fear, causing a victorious smile along Murphy's face mixed with that anger to the previous words exchanged. Once the pistol was safely set against her side, Blake was quick to cover her fear with her usual demeanor. The Blend Dictator was never one she used to be afraid of this much in the past life, but now, with all his knowledge of his previous life, Murphy could be all the more terrifying.

 

"Which is why I need you're help." She hated his help, but she needed it. "Because I don't want them dead, and I don't want them to become a part of your abominable plan with using humans as your unwilling servants."

 

She could see his need to argue, defending his Blend race the same as he had last time. "Unwilling?" He nearly sputtered again, irked at her inability to believe everything he had tried to argue with her and Jackson about. "I told y-"

 

Blake couldn't care to listen to him again, cutting him off. "I don't care what you have to say. What's done is done, and I won't let this future head down the same path." She hissed at him, taking a deep breath as her eyes fell back towards the group.

 

10K wasn't alone anymore as Addy, Cassandra, and Mack all crowded around the truck with him. None were speaking, but their heads had turned too quickly to assume that they had been listening or watching to figure out what was going on between her and Murphy.

 

She sighed, remembering her previous reason she had unwillingly wanted to come over here to ask.

 

"But to make sure that future doesn't come, I need to know what happened." Blake refused to plead with the previous tyrant, instead trying to assume the same tone of voice Warren used to know she meant that it would happen.

 

Problem was, even after years of raising a daughter up until and through the apocalypse, she could never match Warren's authority.

 

Murphy had gone back to crossed arms, staring her over with his own usual cocky, Murphy-like look that only the man could carry where everyone wanted to punch him, but rarely ever could.

 

"What? Back with the bandits, 'cuz none of you listened to me when I tried." He shrugged, going back to picking at his fingers as if he could get all the grimy dirt out. "You guys can't blame that screw-up on me. I did my due, you just didn't care."

 

She was nearly vibrating with anger, but she held it back, gritting out her words through clenched teeth. "I want to know what happened at Philly last time."

 

Murphy's eyes snapped back over to her, before subtly shifting to look towards Cassandra and 10K.

 

"What am I? Your Psychic?" He sassed, giving a heavy sigh. "Fine… Little Miss ex-cannibal nobly traded herself back--"

 

She could tell he was going into a drawn-out story that would either confuse her more or lead her nowhere in answers. "Cut the bullshit, Murphy." Blake dryly deadpanned, more than fed up with his antics.

 

"I'm getting there." He shook his head, annoyed as much as she was. "As I was saying, Cassandra traded herself back. We got Addy, but guess what? Couldn't leave Cassy there." Despite her statement, the man stilled resigned to telling it with dramatic themes." Doc posed as bait, and we went on a suicide mission dragging heaps of the undead in while blasting 'Ride of Valkyries'. 10K went and sniped cannibal machine gun freak, and we managed to get the hell out of there."

 

Murphy finished as Blake eyes widened, mouth hanging open as she rolled her eyes.

 

"I knew you didn't come up with that idea." Bastard just managed to steal it off the others.

 

He shrugged, looking away from her briefly. "Guilty as charged." He admitted, much to Blake's surprise. "Figured they wouldn't know. Right?" But it was right back to the taunting.

 

She let a growl escape her, shaking her head at the man. "Doesn't explain much of why something different happened this time." She knew going on the machine gun with 10K was a major changer, and Cassandra killing Tobias up front had to be one as well. She supposed Cassandra having a new experience with killing the cannibal leader would shake her up; but 10K? She hadn't noticed the taser mark before, meaning that somehow, from the time that she fired the machine gun to the time they found their way back to the group, he had been tasered in that interval.

 

And somehow, they managed to get blood caked across their hands.

 

"Yeah, it does." He derided, rolling his eyes back at her. "Machine gun?" He reminded as if she hadn't gotten the memo.

 

"Yeah, I know that." She couldn't help but spit back. Him talking to her like she was a three-year-old was enough to ride on her nerves.

 

"Just saying." He looked away from her again, not admitting defeat, but then again, neither were in much of a victory. "Plan change managed to spook them. Best guess is that they got caught up in a fight before they found us."

 

Blake nodded her head, trying to subtly get glances to the two youngests of the group. "Obvious enough." She resorted to logical planning, hoping the two of them could act like adults long enough, shifting her focus away from their newest argument that still left rifts of anger boiling throughout her. "He didn't get--"

 

Blake paused for a moment, weighing her options in discussing further with Murphy, before forgetting the idea completely. It was obvious enough that 10K and Cassandra had dealt with the cannibals on their way back, and it was partly easy to tell that the blood either came from that fight, or from the zombies that had been chasing them. She refused to tend the idea any longer with Murphy knowing it would lead further into a hole of anger that she didn't want to be a part of.

 

Murphy cocked an eyebrow at her sentence being cut short suddenly, but Blake switched topics. "And what about tomorrow?" Murphy didn't respond for a moment, so Blake elaborated. "At McClain?"

 

He let out a sigh, watching as Warren tapped the side of the truck, alerting the others that she was taking first watch. The conversation Blake was having with Murphy almost seemed to be lost on the man. Whether it was because he didn't want to tell her, or something else, Blake hadn't the clue.

 

"Watch out for Doc."

 

It was his last word of advice before he headed off towards the others, leaving her in the silence of the night beside the tree.

 

Watch out for Doc.

 

---- line break----

 

Cassandra's POV:

 

After making their way out of the pine woods camp, and down the long winding road, they had managed to get to McClain within the next day. From the distance, they could see the tall skyscraper of a building covering their view of the little town down the hill beside it. The seemingly healthy cypress trees grew beyond the concrete wall and barbed wire fence that Emergency Headquarters hid behind.

 

Cassandra couldn't help as a wary feeling was building up in her gut. She dissed it to being Murphy's visible anxiety that made her stressed. The man had been twitching nervously, bouncing his leg up and down and looking over towards Doc and Warren without any explanation. Cassandra couldn't pinpoint what made Murphy all worked up, but she couldn't help her own rising fear knowing the man was sometimes (usually) right when something bad was about to happen.

 

She had been able to chalk that part up to being something to do with their odd eyes, because Blake was having a similar reaction as Murphy.

 

The only problem was, Cassandra couldn't make out what was wrong.

 

They started to slow as the sign of "RESTRICTED AREA: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" was blaring in their view with a mercied Z propped up against it. A few more zombies stalked around, most dressed in uniform as they banged on the wired fence. The group was able to drive past the Zs without any hassle.

 

There were parts of the fence that were easy to squeeze through, so Mack and Doc had been the ones to pull the gate open long enough for the group to get inside. Once they were back in the truck, Warren continued to speed closer to the building to get there as quickly as possible.

 

Cassandra couldn't agree more with her logic. They had enough trouble just getting here in the last 18 hours. From bandits shooting at them, to a small family holding them hostage to steal their truck and weapons, to fighting off packs of Zs as people stole their only shelter. Yesterday wasn't the worst, Cassandra had far more experiences worse than that one, but she couldn't say it was very pleasant.

 

Aggravating if anything.

 

Warren slowed the truck as they drove closer to the building, and Cassandra couldn't help herself as she looked over the truck bed's frame. She couldn't say it was unusual to see bodies of the dead lay limp all over the place, but something about driving past so many of them felt offbeat. Nightmarish in certain circumstances.

 

Most of the undead were mercied-- a bullet through the brain, their head sliced so that they were given mercy. The zombies' bodies were set against metal barrels or laid on top of one another in ambulances.

 

Despite the themes Cassandra knew were ones that could haunt her nightmares Pre-Z, she couldn't help but admit that it left a safer feeling with her. To know that there were a few less zombies in the world, even if that required looking towards the piled-up rotting bodies that littered the area.

 

Once Warren had slowed to the front gate of the area, everyone exited the pickup truck besides 10K, who remained standing in the truck bed. Cassandra let herself jump down beside Doc, giving him a strained smile, as she watched the others move forward. She knew there was something off about today, and from the clues before, that it was about Doc.

 

She hated that she just couldn't figure it out.

 

"Not exactly what I was hoping for." The tone of disappointment was clear in Garnett's voice as he looked over the Headquarters. As Citizen Z had said, the place wasn't in the best shape. It was worn down, even for apocalypse standards, without much hope to a normal survivor's eye.

 

Cassandra saw Murphy shrug beside Garnett, not paying attention to the building at all. "Doesn't give much hope for a chopper, does it?"

 

Despite the question, she could hear the arrogance in his voice as if he had already experienced this.

 

"Never judge a book by its cover." Doc offered, hesitantly gazing around the building, not as convinced of the place as he had been talking about last night by the fire. "We gotta at least try."

 

"Yeah." Murphy scoffed beside them, finally turning his attention, not to the building, but above towards an air vent. "Hoping and trying are on different ends of the spectrum, my friend."

 

Even though Cassandra had heard and knew it, Murphy's pessimism was one thing that never went away in any situation. Light or dark, as far as Cassandra could tell.

 

The shuffling by the door caught their attention as Warren raised her pistol, quickly making her way around the other side. "Well, you better have hope for this chopper, because dragging your ass to California is going to be trying enough." Warren shot down, moving beside Garnett to inspect the front patio of a deck fenced off with mercied zombies lying around it.

 

Murphy's attention was solely focused on Warren, a look in his eyes that mimicked much of the odd look he always carried. " 'Maybe hope isn't something you should always go for.' " It was a faint mumble under his breath, and with being right beside the man, Cassandra was the only one who had picked it up.

 

Her forehead creased as she looked towards him questioning, but his gaze was adverted away from her, not paying much mind. Cassandra supposed that sentence held some sort of meaning to him. Maybe he had said the same thing to Hammond? Cassandra couldn't be sure. She could only guess that it had something to do with a possibly similar scenario.

 

Murphy moved away from her as Addy took his spot, recording the area as she mumbled the date and the location. She gave a quick smile towards Cassandra, almost reassuringly, much like she had been doing this past week.

 

Cassandra hated to admit she went into a sort of withdrawn moment. Watching Tobias die, mercying Mother and the victims, only to be chased down by the remaining cannibals. It had been…hard to cope with. For the past nights, it was all she could see, all she could feel. But Addy had been there to support her, even if the red-head had no clue what she was helping Cassandra against, but she couldn't be more thankful.

 

Because now, she was free. From who she was, who she used to be, and it was all because the group had saved her from that cage. A past that formed her future, and Cassandra would do whatever she could to keep it.

 

With a light shoulder bump, Addy moved away from her as well, holding her camera to her side as she held her Z-Whacker in the other. With a swift movement, the zombie trapped against the wire was mercied.

 

Whether it be the sound or their movement, it wasn't a moment later that a man emerged from the building, decked out in military gear with his gun raised towards them.

 

"Halt! Who goes there?!" He yelled, but Cassandra could pick up on his slight twitching as he moved. Nervous, probably. Most of the men Cassandra had to seduce with Tobias had a similar habit.

 

They were all quick to stop in their place. Despite Addy's raised camera recording the man, it was only Warren who pointed her weapon towards the 'guard'.

 

"Sergeant Charles Garnett," Garnett informed, a calm and collected demeanor in his voice. "National Guard." His hand motioned towards Warren as the guard anxiously moved his gun over the members of the group. "This is Lieutenant Roberta Warren, also National Guard."

 

He hadn't even been able to get a full sentence out before the man interrupted them. "State your business." He called, his accent intermingling with a certain distinction Cassandra had seen plenty times before, but couldn't quite pinpoint.

 

Garnett didn't miss a beat though, continuing. "We're on a high priority mission to get this man to a CDC lab in California." Murphy only rolled his eyes, backing away some as he stood in place next to Doc. If Cassandra didn't know any better, it almost looked as if he was shielding the man without trying to do so.

 

"We were sent here by an Intel Officer from the NSA to see General McCandles."

 

"Unless he's busy!" Murphy called, earning glares from everyone besides Blake, who's eyes narrowed towards the guard.

 

The guard twitched, aiming his gun towards Murphy for a brief moment before Garnett drew him back. This time, a little more agitated while speaking. "We need his help finding transpo. We were told he has a helicopter."

 

Despite the statement, Garnett's tone turned more to a question.

 

The guard paused for a moment before he spoke. "Yeah, he's got a chopper." His voice was light, slow at first before speeding up as his words nearly conglomerated together. "But General McCandles is a very busy man. He's got the entire east coast under his command." However much of the east coast was left, Cassandra supposed.

 

"He can't worry about some raggedy ass group of civilians on a suicide mission."

 

The 'raggedy ass' part got the attention of Addy, who's head tilted back, surprised, but more in a challenging way to his words; Just as Doc's forehead creased, similar to Addy's in surprise and shock. From the corner of her eye, she could see Murphy sigh, hand running down his forehead like he couldn't stand to be here any longer.

 

"I suggest you move on before the infected find you."

 

The end caused Addy to stifle a laugh, looking over towards Mack in a way Cassandra knew indefinitely as, 'Who does he think we are?'

 

"You heard the man." Murphy tried to prod them to leave again, motioning towards the truck. "Let's get out of here." Before the bad shit happens. She could see it clearly on his face, but for whatever reason, Murphy refused to say anymore than he had already.

 

"Hold on Murphy." Garnett told him to shut up and slow down, just as Warren spoke to the guard.

 

"Nothing raggedy ass about this group, sir." She was offended as much as the others, almost defiant by the end in how she spoke. "And this man has important information about a vaccine for the zombie virus."

 

Garnett nodded his head along as a long moment passed before the guard backed up from his post. He slowly made his way down the steps, never aiming his gun away from the group as he hesitantly stopped a few feet in front of them. The guard took a moment, eyeing Murphy over. After a while, it almost seemed to make Murphy self-conscious, tilting his head back in a way to cover up his anxiety with a look of confidence.

 

"He smells like a damn Z."

 

Cassandra could agree, but then again, they all did when they mericed the zombies and couldn't take a shower for weeks on end.

 

"Can't say you smell like rose petals either." Murphy shot back, an annoyance in his words, but the comment didn't seem to cause the man to stumble. He only turned back towards Garnett, who tried to lighten the tense situation.

 

"You gonna help us or not?"

 

There was another long moment that passed as the guard's expression remained unreadable. "You want to see the General?" He asked, bottom lip twitching along with his head. "You're going to have to pay a tribute."

 

Garnett's head cocked in question to the side as the guard continued. "Gesture of goodwill to show him you're serious."

 

Cassandra knew that was bullshit. A tribute or goodwill made it sound like they were giving an offering up to some god. With a little closer observation, it was easy to tell what the man wanted-- and in all honesty, it seemed hard to blame him. There were so many drug addicted men that came to her looking for attention, that she had been able to pick up on the signs almost immediately.

 

She hadn't asked them about it. It wasn't what she was allowed to do during that time. The men had sometimes spoke about it though. How the drugs would numb the pain of the world. How they didn't feel as if they were in the apocalypses anymore. Where they didn't feel as if they were constantly fearing for their life, which now thinking back on it, was depressing for the situation they hadn't known they were in.

 

They had told her how they hadn't meant to use it all the time. It was only a way of relief when they couldn't handle the pain and suffering any longer, but somewhere along the lines, they had used it too much. They had done it one too many times, and after that, they couldn't live without it.

 

It was easy to tell, that somehow, this guard had succumb to the same fate as the other druggies.

 

"What kind of tribute do you have in mind?" Garnett asked, eyes narrowing as he scanned the druggie guard.

 

"Our medic has been MIA for over a year." His voice ran together again, mostly monotone but switching pitches that didn't line up with what he was trying to say. "We need painkillers. Antibiotics. Anything you got."

 

Desperate Druggie then. After a year or so with nothing, Cassandra could guess it was killing the guard.

 

Garnett turned to Doc, a silent command being exchanged as Doc looked extremely against the idea. Regardless, he sighed, coming to terms that this is what they had to do to get the chopper. "I'll get my bag."

 

Cassandra was quick to get by Doc's side, who had asked 10K to hand him his things. Murphy had come to them by that time, trapping the older man. "We're not gonna give him what he wants, are we?" He asked, standing in front of Doc to keep him in place.

 

"We gotta." Doc argued, looking at his bag, forlorn to give anything away with the little supplies they tried to collect at every stop.

 

"He's a damn druggie." Murphy grumbled, throwing a look over his shoulder towards the guard. "It won't get us anywhere."

 

"He's not wrong." Cassandra couldn't help but tack on. The guard was desperate. There was no telling if he would really help the group after he got what he wanted.

 

Doc sighed, looking defeated as he gazed back over towards Warren and Garnett. "Well, we have to get you to California. This might be our only way at gettin' in." He still tried to defend, regardless of seeing the idea was pointless as well.

 

"Wasting our supplies isn't getting us anywhere closer to California." Murphy hissed back, not mean but harsh enough to try to get his point further across. Doc only pushed past him, reluctantly setting his bag down on a gasoline barrel.

 

"We got aspirin, tetracycline, cipro." Doc offered, none too pleased with the scenario. "That should knock out most any infection." The guard only nodded, breathing heavy, but not accepting anything Doc was trying to give. Doc took a moment, nodding it over, reluctant to say everything he had in his bag, but he was left without a choice. "And oxycontin."

 

That drew the guard's attention, voice breaking as he spoke. "The oxy. We need painkillers." He needs painkillers.

 

With hesitation and unwillingness, Doc spared a glance towards the two leaders, silently asking if he really had to.

 

Doc grabbed the plastic bag from his leather one, rummaging through it to grab one of their limited supply of oxycontin. The guard licked his lips, shaking and breathing all the more heavily.

 

"You want to see the General or not?" His quivering voice was harsh as he spoke with his uncontrollable shakes. That only grated on Doc's nerves, raising his voice more than Cassandra had ever seen the older man do before.

 

"This is the last of our supply." He admonished, but there wasn't any real threat as he dumped more than enough into the man's hand.

 

"That'll do." The guard spoke quickly, throwing the oxy into his mouth, not much to Cassandra's surprise, but to none of the group's relief.

 

"Hey!" The anger was evident in Doc's voice as he turned towards the group. They all shook their heads, watching as the man chewed the oxycontin, twitching in relief with his eyes closed as he cracked his neck with next to no problem. Murphy didn't even chastise them this time, only raising an eyebrow towards the man as the guard exhaled loudly.

 

"The General will see you now." His light voice was back, one without fear, as he smiled at the group, stuck in his own fantasy world of the peace that he was feeling.

 

The guard led most of them to the doors, as some of the others offered to stay behind. Cassandra went with Blake, Mack, Murphy, Garnett, Doc, and Warren, following the guard up the few steps and into the fenced area.

 

His finger lightly touched the button, a content smile resting on his face as the General yelled at them from the radio.

 

"Why are you wasting my time?"

 

"General McCandles, sir." His voice turned slightly professional, but Cassandra could still pick up on the effects of relief from the oxy. "We have a National Guard unit and several civilians requesting permission to speak to you." He informed.

 

McCandles was quick to respond back. "Is sweet Jesus with them?"

 

Cassandra knew it wasn't going to end well after that sentence as well as the guard did. He cracked a smile towards the camera. "No sir, I don't believe so."

 

Much like how the guard interrupted them, the General did the same. "Then tell them to go to hell!" He yelled. "I've got a war to fight! Where's that close air support I ordered? Tell the Admiral I need those subs in position by 0800. Bravo Company, hold your positions at all costs. Repeat, all costs."

 

Cassandra could tell that this General was more than just delusional. Stubborn, of course, but there was something else that he was holding back that Cassandra didn't like.

 

The guard only turned to them, looking up towards Garnett. "You heard the General." The type of cocky tone in his voice matched Murphy's at times.

 

Speaking of said man, Murphy only shrugged, dramatically throwing his hands to the side as he started to walk down the stairs. "You heard what he said. General doesn't want to help us. Let's go." He prodded, making his way down the steps before Warren stopped him, holding him back from doing so.

 

Garnett pushed past the guard, speaking to the General instead. "General McCandles, sir. We're on a mission of extreme importance by direct order from the president."

 

Cassandra assumed that was close enough. Citizen Z nor Hammond had really told them where the mission came from.

 

"It's imperative that we find air transport to Mt. Wilson CDC lab in California." Garnett tried to continue, but the constant theme of getting cut off today hadn't ceased.

 

"Sorry, I'm busy." There wasn't any apology in his words before he began yelling again. "Where are my reinforcements?!" Dead, if anything.

 

"You heard the man." The guard repeated like he had no care in the world. "Time to go."

 

His and the General's rejection caused Doc's anger to rise, making his way past her and up the stairs. "That's it?"

 

Out of everything today, it surprised Cassandra the most when Doc grabbed the guard, pulling the man towards him even though the guard wasn't even fully there. He gave no reaction, only allowing himself to be dragged by Doc. "I've a good mind to make you barf up my oxycontin."

 

The threat wasn't as harmful as he actions, shaking the unresponsive man as Garnett tried to get Doc to release him.

 

"Doc! Doc. Stand down!"

 

Through Garnett's yelling, it attracted the General's attention back. "Did you say Doc?" He asked through the speaker. "As in doctor?"

 

Garnett's attention slowly turned back towards the man, and it was clearly obvious to see that he was forming another plan. "Yeah, our team includes a medical doctor."

 

Cassandra knew that Doc wasn't actually a medical doctor. Not anything like a nurse or big time hospital doctors, but if it worked to get the chopper, and Doc's method of medicine helped, then it was worth the white lie. Right?

 

"Why didn't you say so? Send him up." The General sounded much more delighted, beckoning Doc to come up. "I have a wounded man in need of medical attention."

 

And Cassandra definitely didn't like the sounds of that. McCandles sounded like the man to leave the injured solider lying against the ground as he yelled at him. She couldn't imagine him taking care of a team, despite the building's massive size.

 

Even as Garnett started to make his way up, Murphy looked completely against the idea, arguing with them, but his debate fell on deaf ears yet again. She felt bad for him, despite finding him to be an asshole. Murphy had been right about numerous things, but now it really only sounded illogical to any of the group's safety.

 

Garnett tried to make his way in first, but the guard pushed him back, stopping them from entering. "Just the doctor. The rest of you wait out here." He informed, putting in a code to open the doors.

 

"We're not doing that, right? Splitting ups a no-go?" Murphy kept trying, but it was useless to Warren and Garnett's authority.

 

"Doc'll be fine." Garnett turned Doc. "Be safe." The warning only cued Murphy in on the fact that he didn't trust what Doc was going against either.

 

"Seriously?" Murphy threw his hands back, a nervous look on his face that quickly passed across Blake's. Cassandra could tell silent words were exchanged, which was also much of a surprise compared to their fighting last night.

 

"Wait." Blake almost called, before lowering her voice and making her way up the last few steps. She turned towards the General, looking over Doc's shoulder. "I'm his…um-- PA. We work together." She tried to cover up her lie with a stern face, hoping none of the others would call her out on it.

 

"Only the doctor." The guard insisted, blocking the door from all the others besides Doc.

 

Blake's teeth grinded together, jaw clenched nervously as she spoke. "I'm going in there." She tried to push past him, but the guard raised his gun, pointing it on Blake.

 

"Only the doctor goes up." He repeated as Warren and Mack dragged Blake back.

 

"I got this." Doc tried to assure them, hastily picking up his bag and moving forward into building before Garnett stopped him.

 

"Hey, hey, hey." He whispered, holding Doc in place for a moment. "Talk to him about the chopper."

 

Doc nodded as Garnett patted him on the shoulder, allowing the man to enter the building alone. Warren pulled Blake to the side, as Cassandra followed, inclined to hear why Blake had the sudden reaction when Murphy looked towards her.

 

"What was that for?" Warren asked in a slightly harsh but questioning whisper. "You know we can't risk the mission like that."

 

Blake shrugged off Warren's hand on her shoulder, pacing around nervously. "What was what for? Making sure Doc doesn't end up dead in there?" She asked, keeping her voice low as she bit down on her fingernails.

 

"I know, I know it was stupid. I shouldn't have gone and almost blown Doc's cover." She admitted, rubbing her hands across her face before setting them back to her side. "I just can't lose Doc…" She looked away, gaze traveling to Murphy before looking back towards them. "I'd rather travel on foot with that asshole then let Doc die in there."

 

Warren shook her head, looking Blake over before doing the same to Murphy who was still anxiously looking towards the vent from the deck. "We're not going to lose Doc. He's just gonna talk to the General about the helicopter after he helps the one that's injured." Despite Warren's assurances, it didn't seem to help Blake much, letting her shoulder's drop as she looked back over to Murphy.

 

"Just keep on eye out for him, okay?"

 

--- line break ---

 

Doc's POV:

 

Why did he always have to get sucked into this mess? Why was it always them? Or him? Couldn't they stick together and look at baby goats all day?

 

He tried to keep calm as he walked through the oddly clean and modern looking building. Doc could count the number of times he had seen something this fancy during the apocalypse on one hand. And that would only add up to being twice.

 

The nearly black marble looking doors to the elevator were peculiarly shining, without a trace of dust on it mostly. The place was too confusing, and Doc couldn't say he was all too jolly about it.

 

The elevator doors opened to the side of him, and with quick glances in each direction, Doc bit the bait and took his chances. If he ended up dying (which he direly hoped wouldn't happen) he ended up dying. If he couldn't prevent it, he had to meet his fate. Face Jesus. God…his life was not gonna be easy to explain.

 

The elevator wasn't as clean or fancy as the hallway or the outside was. Plastic wrap plastered most about every wall like some DIY home project that used to be advertised while he was watching ER. There were elevator doors parallel to one another, and Doc hoped when he got off he'd exit the right one.

 

Hesitantly, he looked all around him, his anxiety peeking as the metal doors slid shut with a creaking moan in front of him. He didn't like this. He didn't like any of this. He was all about helping people who needed it, but the way Murphy and Blake were acting like he was going to die? When had anything today pointed him closer towards death than the past week had?

 

He was all about the thing that you have a feeling about when you're gonna die, so you make contacts back with all those you hadn't seen in a while. Take a dinner, hang out, call those you love. That sorta thing. Doc got that idea, but why now would everyone else think going to help some injured soul with the General was his end?

 

If he was going to die today, he sure as hell will be pissed. He would have given up most of his oxy just to end up getting killed. Nah, that didn't float his boat at all.

 

"Son of a bitch." He muttered to himself, trapped momentarily in the elevator as his thoughts ran rampant. "I was saving that oxy for a party when we got to Cali."

 

He'd test Blake on her resistance, just for the fun of it if the woman decided it was alright. Besides, Mack and Addy were always great to party with too, and they tried oxy a couple times before anyhow, so they wouldn’t've minded the party. Cassandra probably tried some before, but then again, she would hopefully be up for the party as well. Warren and Garnett could've let loose by then, and Murphy would be damned if he didn't participate before he went to get the cure made. Or after. Either time the man wanted to party. Doc would even get the kid to try some for the hell of it.

 

He was pretty sure the kid never let loose before anyhow. Something told him 10K never had a chance to.

 

The lights cut out almost immediately after that, and if Doc hadn't been scared shitless before, he sure had been now. God, he didn't want to die. Not this early. Not this way. Given, he didn't want to die any way brutally. Couldn't he just lay in a field of flowers, passing away in a peaceful sleep kinda like Rose did on her bed in Titanic? Can't that be the way he goes?

 

Not falling to his death in a deadly metal contraption!

 

Amidst his worries, the elevator's power flickered back on as the bell dinged to show he met his destination. He couldn't say he was all too pleased at the revelation.

 

He turned around to the other door, seeing a man in a similar military attire to the guard out front. The man held him a gun point as Doc raised his hands in surrender, praying he wouldn't get shot.

 

"You the medic?" The man called, who Doc assumed was General McCandles.

 

God, why did he always have to get roped up into this?

 

"I am indeed." He responded back in a voice that was opposite of how he felt. "You the General?" Despite the dramatic flair he tried to present his voice with, he couldn't help but worry he'd get shot either way.

 

"General Author C. McCandles. Commander, Central Command, Infection Response Forces." Okay, now the guy was only trying to flaunt all he had under his belt.

 

Regardless of the yelling and raised voice from General McCandles, he cooled off after a second, waving his gun forwards telling Doc to get off the elevator. He obliged, noting the crazy look in the General's eyes that played hand in hand with his presentation.

 

Still with his hands raised, Doc exited the elevator slowly, looking around the empty flat that the General resided in. There was practically nobody here besides the General and himself. The whole place was desolate of everything but junk.

 

"Where's your wounded man?" There had to be someone else around like the General informed. On another floor maybe? Somewhere among the scattered junk?

 

The General shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, and Doc took notice that he crouched some, not looking too good for wear if anything. Don't say…

 

"Right here." The General informed, finally setting his gun aside, but still keeping his distrusting gaze fixated on Doc. Slowly, he pulled up his left pant leg, as Doc kneeled down beside it. There was blood staining his pants, and a trail running down his boot. As the piece of clothing was pulled up more, Doc could see the nauseating wound buried across the man's pale skin.

 

No matter his first reaction, Doc could tell that the chunk missing from his leg wasn't a zombie bite. Or, now that they had to deal with cannibals, it wasn't much of a human bite either. The wound looked like it hadn't even been properly taken care of. No antibiotics wiped across it. No nothing to keep an infection from starting.

 

"It's not a bite." Doc confirmed the obvious, hoping General McCandles would elaborate. Without the General speaking, Doc continued. "This looks bad."

 

The General's glare hardened on him, staring relentless needles that could pierce anyone if looks could kill. Still, the General refused to speak about it much, so Doc tried to persuade the man that he needed to speak about it.

 

"Real bad." He tried to pry, hoping the gun wouldn't be aimed at his head next.

 

"It's just a scratch." The man debunked, refusing to believe that anything was out of the ordinary and that he was well and dandy.

 

One hell of a scratch if that was what he was going for. Part of his leg was missing for God's sake.

 

He could already see it well from where he was kneeled down, but Doc took a closer look, seeing welling puss form around the edges, going unlooked at or not taken care of by the General.

 

"No, that's…" Wise with your words, Doc. Don't set him off on you. "-that's more like gangrene."

 

Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated. This was more like on the low end of gangrene, but still, enough for it to be deadly.

 

"Can you save the leg?" There was genuine concern in the General's voice, that Doc felt bad for him even if his dickish guard ate most of his oxy in one go.

 

"I'm afraid not, General." Just be straight in your facts. There was nothing wrong with telling the truth. "It's already starting to spread. Soon the Z virus will take over…All I can do at this point is show you mercy when the time comes."

 

That may have been…too factual for the General to handle in one sitting, but it wasn't like the General had six months to ponder over his decision. He was already close to death from paying no mind to the wound for quite some time. Like Murphy would say, 'The apocalypse is hard. Face it. You don't have time to make every decision in a long-lived and fulfilled lifetime.'

 

Shitty, but true. You don't pay attention to something deadly, it nips you in the ass before taking a full bite of you. It was the hard reality of life nowadays, but the apocalypse wasn't going to allow you to have everything play out in your hands. When you don't care, you have to decide when and who will give you mercy in the end, or if anyone would give you mercy at all.

 

Sometimes, the sad truth to face was that there wasn't always going to be someone to give you mercy right away, and if there was, it usually ended up being someone you love. Someone you wouldn't want to have that pain, burden, or even guilt rest across their shoulders for however long they live.

 

The physical and phycological ramifications that came with what Doc was trying to explain only pissed the General off, nearly laughing as he spoke.

 

"You call that a diagnosis?"

 

More like reality that was coming soon.

 

Doc got up from kneeling, not taking notice of the rising anger in the General. "I call it the truth." Because it was. "You're gonna die. And soon."

 

It was a hard pill to swallow, but it wasn't a lie.

 

"That's what the last guy said."

 

Last guy?

 

Doc hadn't even been able to react as the man hit him with the butt of his gun, knocking his out cold into an endless black spiral of pain and nothingness.

 

The next thing he knew was that he was being dragged. By whom and to where still felt foggy. He hadn't even been able to comprehend much of what was happening until he felt himself falling downwards. He didn't even know he was yelling, still trying to figure out what was happening as he felt like he was crashing down towards the ground.

 

His whole body flipped and twisted before he finally crashed into something. Not the hard ground he was expecting, but a tangled mess of something.

 

Doc quickly grabbed ahold of whatever he could to keep from tumbling down any further. His whole body felt bruised and ached like a sonofabitch, but he gripped tight to whatever he was holding onto despite the pain shooting up his arms from the action. His life basically depended on it and he'd be damned if he let go.

 

"Oh. Oh." It hurt so bad, really bad actually. The wires and mesh he was tangled up in kept him from falling much further, but it was him that was keeping himself up. It was like a tooth hanging loosely from the thread. One wrong way that he moved and he was done for. He'd be falling to the bottomless pits of hell in no time.

 

He was sweating and shaking, looking up and down to the two dark abysses that seemed to never end. It was only barely that he could make a light shining on both ends, but then again, with the way the world looked for a moment, it was hard to tell if he was hanging right side up or upside down.

 

Seeing as how the blood was already rushing to his head, Doc wasn't too sure.

 

Trying his damnedest to control his breathing, another grumble could be heard beside him. Oh God. Please don't look. Please don't look.

 

He couldn't help himself as his head slowly turned to the zombie in beside him, neck wrapped with a wire. The man's hair was a ratty white mess that looked like the witches from horror movies. His teeth were a gruesome shade of black with plaque and blood dousing every single crevice. Guess he found the 'last guy'.

 

Doc gasped, almost yelling out of fright as the zombie gurgled and moaned towards him. He didn't have time to care where the zombie came from. Doc just knew he had to get out of there. Somehow, someway. There had to be a way out. There had to be.

 

The Z continued to growl, milky white eyes turning to him as he bit at the wire that held him by the neck. Doc screamed. As loud as he could so anyone near a hundred miles could hear him.

 

He didn't want to die like this. He didn't want to die.

 

Even after what felt like hours of screaming, he couldn't hear anyone. He couldn't hear any of the group. God, Blake and Murphy were right. He was going to die today. He couldn't believe those two were right.

 

Doc chanted, too afraid to hear the zombie snarling next to him. He just tried to pretend it was another member chanting with him, but to no avail, the inhuman gurgles sounded nothing like a human did.

 

"My world it but an illusion." He repeated over and over, different tones, different pitches just hoping something would get him out of there quicker.

 

"Oh God, why didn't I pay better attention to that sweet little Buddhist chick I dated?" He wasn't sure if he was asking the zombie or himself, but neither seemed to help him in what the angel of a woman had told him.

 

"Or what about Murphy! Oh God, not like that." He amended, but he knew the gurgling lifeless form in front of him didn't care. "Even Blake. I shouldn't have gone. They told me and now I'm stuck here with you!" He couldn't help but cry louder, only causing the zombie to snarl at him more.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. That wasn't nice, I get it."

 

Oh for the sweet love of God, what was he apologizing to a zombie for? The thing had no soul or brain. It didn't care how much Doc bashed it, even if it was on accident.

 

The Z made grabs for him again, and Doc tried to throw himself back against the air duct's walls to get as far away as possible.

 

"Stay calm, stay calm." He repeated through labored breaths, trying to convince himself all hope was not lost. "I'm sure they're…I'm sure they're watching you right now. They're looking for you. They're looking for you right now. There's no way they'd just leave you here…trapped in an air shaft with an ugly-ass zombie ready to eat your face off!" He yelled as if it would get his point across, but it only upset the zombie even more.

 

It threw its head back and forth, but a sudden moment's realization nearly came flying at Doc, distracting him from the ugly-ass zombie trying to escape its bonds.

 

"Oh, wait." It was like a eureka moment, as he tried to reach in his back pocket for his moment's relief he kept for either celebration or emergency's sake.

 

Through his struggling, he was able to pull it out of his pocket, sniffing the rolled-up joint like his life depended on it.

 

"Oh, that's more like it."

 

The zombie seemed to calm some, shifting around like a child in time-out who knew they were in trouble. Doc didn't tend the thought, chastising the zombie for making him use something he may never get to again.

 

"I was saving this for a special occasion." The zombie growled at him, cutting him off.

 

Well, this was special enough.

 

"Like now." He put the joint in his mouth, lighting it up with a lighter that wasn't as hard to reach as the joint. The zombie growled at the fire, almost like a caveman who was just seeing the sun in someone's hand. With his own shaking hands, he tried to light the joint as quickly as he could, blowing the smoke in rings in the Z's face as if it was to calm it.

 

"Come on. Suck it up." He beckoned, continuing to blow at least one perfect ring in the zombie's face. He would've been proud if the circumstances were different. The zombie seemed unfazed by it anyhow, still snarling and gnashing its teeth in an effort to bite him.

 

"That's good shit, man." He chastised to the zombie's unresponsiveness to what Doc hoped would calm him and the zombie down. "Chill!" He cried again as the zombie's growling only intensified. He couldn't help but scream for help again, hoping someone of the group would hear. Any of them! He couldn't be stuck in here any more with the ugly-ass zombie who didn't care for the joint.

 

It still felt like ages after that. It was like none of the group could hear him, so he tried to work with the zombie again. Blowing puffs of smoke into the zombie's face in an effort to calm it down.

 

The growling and snarling did decease after a while, very slowly, but with each puff Doc blew into the Z's face, the more responsive it seemed. He couldn't help but just…experiment with it.

 

Getting a zombie high wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

 

It only growled at him a few more times, and feeling high himself, Doc was having a hard time entertaining the ugly-ass Z from biting him any longer.

 

"Now…now don't take offense." Because for some reason, you always do. "But the only thing worse than that ugly mug of yours--" He gently pointed towards the zombie's face, drawing his hand back just as quickly. "--is your breath."

 

Even when he asked politely to not get offended, the Z still did, growling towards him aggressively. Doc took another drag from the joint, knowing it was all he had to calm down before trying to experiment again. Maybe the smoke wasn't enough.

 

His hand slowly raised towards the Z's mouth to allow him a drag, but the second his hands got anywhere close to the zombie, it lunged forward and snarled, trying to bite him.

 

"Not my fingers, you animal!" God, he was already tired with being up close and personal with this ugly-ass zombie. "I was offering you the last hit." Why offer to a Z? He was loosing his mind.

 

The Z thrashed a bit more as Doc spoke. "Well, fine. I'll bogart it myself then." He took the last hit, blowing all the smoke into the lifeless face of the Z, throwing the useless joint in the undead's face as if it would do anything. It went straight into the zombie's mouth, the ash sticking to its mouth as it chewed down on the remaining nicotine. 

 

"A thousand and one uses, I tell ya."

 

The zombie thrashed around more, snarling and throwing itself to get out of wire that restricted it, but then it just…stopped. The growling lessoned, and the thrashing quit as the milky eyes of the Z blinked rapidly.

 

"Well I'll be damned." He just got a zombie high. "I think you're stoned." How the hell was that even possible?

 

The zombie grumbled, shaking its head to the side and Doc couldn't help but laugh. "Hell, we don't need a vaccine. Just need a few billion tons of some primo Ganja, and the world would be just fine."

 

Murphy would probably be happy about that. No need to be a human lab experiment. Just had to get enough weed to get the zombies high, then the Z-pocalypse would be solved.

 

His laughing caused him to slip, falling through the loose support that he held himself in. He tried to pull himself up again, noticing a badge attached to the ugly-ass zombie's clothes. Without the Z being too much of a threat at the moment, he snatched the badge, bringing it over towards him and wiping the blood away that scattered across the words.

 

The actual man wasn't as bad looking as the zombie was, but then again, that's what the apocalypse does for you.

 

"Doctor Morgan Henley." He read, turning to the stoned zombie. "Does that name ring a bell in any of those cannabinol soaked braincells you have left?" He tried to question, but the stoned zombie only shook its head, closing its eyes before blinking rapidly again.

 

The ugly-ass zombie or Henley, groaned some, almost in response to his question, causing Doc to draw back in confusion. Huh…maybe weed is the cure to the apocalypse after all.

 

"I must be really stoned." He wiped the rest of the blood away, surprised of how fresh it was, as he read the rest of the printed text. "Obstetrics, huh? I wonder what that must have been like?"

 

Not pretty, probably. Lots of yelling and screaming. Definitely blood and swears, but it sure did provide for something beautiful in the world. Well, used to. The world couldn't really provide a safe enough condition for a branch like Obstetrics.

 

"Bringing all them beautiful little angels into the world." It's sad what the world has come to now. Can't have a kid without worrying it'll get eaten and die before turning into a Z. Even hard to raise one that you got to bond with Pre-Z, only to lose them later on.

 

"I mean, just to be present for so many miracles."  It got him thinking about the baby Murphy was going on about in the truck back at the high school. They all saw that little car seat in the crashed truck with the mother. No doubt the little baby turned Z, torturing victims and eating them alive.

 

Just something so pure turning into something so evil. It was…scary to even think about.

 

"Yeah, it's a bummer all those babies grew up to be zombies." Henley growled next to him, but Doc was too focused on the man's profession.

 

He had only experienced one baby's birth, and that was his son's. It pained him every time to think how he hadn't been there for his boy. He hadn't raised him properly-- it was no excuse that he was too young. He should've known and been there. Yeah, he was young, but people younger than that raise happy families or at least try to. He hadn't even really given it a chance, too worried he'd mess up.

 

"You know," Zombie or not, he had to get it out of his system to something. "I got a kid out there somewhere. I never told anybody that before." He was too ashamed to think about it. "I had him when I was 19. Too young." Too naïve to even think he had the situation under control. "Wasn't really around for him like I should've been..."

 

"Never really got to know him." He should have, but he didn't. It would sneak up on him at times. That he could've been better. Could've at least been there… " Kept telling myself maybe you know someday I…I would just call him up." But he never got the chance to. "Make up for lost time."

 

He tried to hold himself back from crying, even if it was only a zombie in the air shaft. He should've just called. Said something. There were so many things he could have done, but hadn't. He just wished… that maybe if he could go back in time, he'd be able to change everything. He'd raise his son, get to know him, be with him until the end of the world, and they'd get through it together.

 

"Lost time." He couldn't help but repeat it, unable to hold back the tears as they stained his face.

 

There were so many kids out there now. Even before the apocalypse, there were kids without some part of their family. He hadn't been there for his son, and every day he wished he could. To make sure his son was safe, keep anything from happening Pre-Z or even now in the apocalypse. That they could just be…together.

 

Doc had been trying his luck. When 10K told him about his father, it was like a pang of guilt hit him. There were kids out there that had to actively set themselves apart from their families by killing them. Doc had just left him, because he was afraid of everything he couldn't do that followed.

 

"And I don't even know if he's alive or dead." He tried to shake off the tears, but they wouldn't go away.

 

He had told himself that there was some kind of redemption. That maybe 10K having to give his own dad mercy, and Doc never getting the chance to make up for the time lost with his son-- that somehow, he could make up for that. He kicked himself that he couldn't do that with his son. Maybe his boy was alive and was surviving, or maybe he had…died-- but had lived his life before that.

 

There was no telling if he would ever find him, but he had found 10K. He had hoped that somehow, it could be his redemption for the times he couldn't and hadn't been a father. Where he could help 10K…help raise the boy when his father didn't have the ability to anymore.

 

But now he was trapped in this damn air shaft, never having the chance to make that redemption, and reflecting on all the past mistakes he had ever made. If he ever got out, there had to be a way to his redemption. To care for the kid that is not his own when he didn't take care of the one that was. There had to be something that he could do to change--to fix-- the past mistakes he had already made.

 

So he called, yelling for help to anyone that could hear him.

Notes:

Anybody have theories on who Doc's son was? I've heard a fair share of 'em.
Also, in an interview with Russel Hodgkinson, he said that he had blown a perfect smoke ring in the zombie actor's face, but it was at a side-angle, so it was hard to see. Figured I'd reference it for fun.

Coming Soon:
Full Metal Zombie (Part Three)

Yes, yes, I know. I'm a wordy idiot who's just glad I don't write nine chapters over one episode. I get this is boring. Trust me. Hope some parts can be fun though! :)

Chapter 17: Full Metal Zombie Remake (Part Three)

Notes:

I want to give a shoutout to doctor_bog. Without their input, thoughts, and theories on where they think this story is going, I don't think I would have written the characters like they are now. In summary, I want to say thank you. You're a commentor I had always wished for. <3

10K's POV:

 

It was easy to snipe zombies from the hood of the wrecked ambulance. It was higher, too high for the Zs to reach him from behind. He got a better view of the landscape, and nothing got in his way. Easy, simple, and good enough to add to his count.

 

Through the head, another Z hit the ground.

 

"One thousand ninety."

 

Another, falling to the side with the force of impact.

 

"One thousand ninety-one."

 

Like a branch smacking the Z in the head, another fell to the demolished grass below it.

 

"One thousand ninety-two."

 

He drew back, setting his rifle to his side as he watched Addy swing her Z-Whacker at a zombie's head. Her weapon was still cool. He wasn't much of an up-close, hand-to-hand, weapons kinda guy, but he'd used them from time to time, and Addy's was one 10K could respect.

 

He sat back for a moment, biting the bottom of his lip. He wasn't sure when he started to call himself 10K instead of Ten Thousand. Garnett just gave him the nickname, and it…stuck. The others used it so much that it started to sound familiar. He liked it anyways. It was less syllables. Less words, easy to communicate. So, he kept it and decided to use it.

 

It worked and it still held what his name meant. That's all that mattered.

 

Quietly, he shifted to watch the others, sitting more cross-legged now with his rifle resting safely beside him. Mack was walking the perimeter for the third time by 10K's counting, making sure to stay out of his line of fire, and checking with his pistol for other Zs around the borderline that 10K couldn't reach.

 

Addy stayed behind the ambulance with Cassandra, who had been mindlessly twirling the knife he gave her. He was glad she kept it and didn't just hand it back to him. Lately, ever since…well, Philly, Cassandra hadn't been as wary of him anymore. He was glad about that too, but he wasn't quite sure why her mood changed.

 

His best guess from observation was that after the…incident with the cannibals and the…victims, somewhere along there, she trusted him. It was fine by him either way. As long as he didn't have to sleep with one eye open all the time around them, the situation was more than fine.

 

Garnett and Warren were up by the weird guard dude who Murphy said was a drug addict. 10K hadn't seen much good come from that one, especially with previous experiences with addicts during the first few years, months even, of the apocalypse.  He learned the hard way that those people were best to stay away from. Especially when they're longing for it.

 

And Murphy and Blake were just standing close to one another. For whatever reason, 10K supposed. He had watched them fight last night. He hadn't been able to make out what they were saying, they were too quiet for that, but he had watched the back-to-back aiming of the pistol at one another. They had tried to conceal the weapon, but it was easy to tell they were aiming it at each other.

 

He hadn't said anything to them about it, or to any of the group. Like many things that he sees and hears but tends to keep to himself. Even when Addy and Mack guessed that Blake and Murphy were Ex's Pre-Z, he hadn't told them about the two trying to shoot each other.

 

It was weird to see them standing so close to one another after that. 10K sure knew that if he was aiming a gun at someone, he would want to be more than twenty feet away from them after if he didn't kill them. He knew something weird was going on between them, there was more than enough clues that they dropped, he was just having a hard time making sense of it.

 

Like the Risen thing. Murphy said it and Blake had flipped out on him. 10K assumed that was the word that she reacted towards Murphy about cuz 'innocent' and 'girl' didn't seem like a reason to kick someone. Then again, 10K wasn't a girl or a woman, so maybe females just don't like being called that.

 

Still, 'Risen' was a weird word to use. He heard some groups talk about the Zs as being a part of the Risen, but that didn't explain why Murphy called Blake that. Maybe he was comparing her to a zombie? Looks and stuff like that.

 

10K couldn't help but crack a smile. Addy was always so adamant about beauty in the apocalypse. It was funny how a lot of the other females followed the same belief. Like Blake not wanting to be told she looks like a zombie, he supposed.

 

The only person who left that hadn't come back yet was Doc, and 10K couldn't help but admit he was getting slightly worried. He liked the older man. Doc would carry out a conversation and not force him into it. There was a twinge of pain to think that Doc reminded him of his Pa, but he pushed the thought down, moving to look over to the others of the group.

 

"Okay, what's going on with Doc?" Addy asked, looking up towards Warren, Garnett, Cassandra and the guard.

 

But like 10K saw before, Mack had already come back from his patrol of the border, speaking before the others could.

 

"Guys, if we don't get out of here soon this could get ugly." He walked swiftly past Murphy, heading up the stairs towards Warren and Garnett.

 

"As if it isn't already." Murphy mumbled loud enough for the others to hear, getting elbowed by Blake.

 

Still weird.

 

Murphy glared back at Blake, before he sighed, looking back towards the air shaft that him and Blake had been obsessed with ever since they got here. 10K didn't like the looks they were giving it.

 

He didn't like to admit it, but he didn't really have any dreams that were any reference to today. That could also be because he refused to really sleep this past week due to the incident back at Philly, but he didn't want to see all that again, so it prohibited any dreams or feelings from coming.

 

The times he did drift off for a second or two were when he would snap awake almost immediately. Usually about Zs crowding him, because everyone has those dreams anymore. Then there would be ones about his Pa, never the good ones though like he wished. Just about seeing him as a Z and everything that followed, but he'd wake up too quickly before that could happen. Then there were the ones with his Ma being a Z, but that was solely based off of his imagination, cuz she never lived that long. And that's were his logic came in with Doc. He never saw the man as a Z, but he would briefly dream about it.

 

It wasn't confusing to say that was just his mind playing tricks on him. Doc being a zombie didn't feel as if it was gonna happen like the cannibals felt like they were. It was hard to say he would use that as a way to tell fake from real, but then again, that's what his Pa told him to keep doing, so he tries to fulfill his dad's wishes.

 

There was a faint echo off in the distance that drew 10K's attention. He shifted himself to the end of the ambulance, listening closely for the sound again. It sounded like…yelling. Maybe. He couldn't tell.

 

"Do you hear that?" Cassandra asked, obviously hearing it too.

 

There wasn't much of a silence that lingered for 10K, or any of them, to hear the noise again before Warren spoke.

 

"Hear what?"

 

Nobody, not even Murphy, dared to speak, all listening for whatever the echoing sound was. It came again, slightly louder than before, causing the others to look around in confusion.

 

It definitely sounded like a yell. 10K could make that much obvious. But who it was from was where the question lied. Doc went up there to take care of an injured guy, so if anything, it could be because of that. You know, doctor things and all that 10K never really had to go into detail for to take care of his minor wounds. And he knew Doc was up there with General McCandles. Besides that, 10K had no idea who else it could be.

 

He just took that they could choose from the three options so far and make a guess from there.

 

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Murphy's breath hitched, looking back towards the air duct. Lord, 10K hated that air duct, and he wasn't even sure why. Probably cuz Murphy and Blake are all worried about it.

 

10K tilted his head to the side, focusing all he could on listening to where the yell was coming from. The more the noise came, the louder and more pleading it sounded as he shifted his attention to the air ducts.

 

That's where the sound was coming from.

 

How in the heck did Murphy and Blake know that beforehand? He was quick to turn his attention to the two, but Murphy was already moving towards Warren, grabbing his pistol from his side.

 

"Sounds like Doc." It was Mack who commented first, eyebrows creasing together.

 

10K didn't have a clue why Doc would be yelling, but under the circumstances, he knew it was bad. The yell sounded like a cry for help, so as Murphy had predicted before, something bad happened. Lord, why was Murphy always right? It was getting a bit too suspcious now. Maybe he had dreams like 10K has?

 

He didn't have time to let his mind dwell on it, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and grabbing onto the side of the ambulance before gently lowering himself down. He swiftly made his way towards the group, catching a bit of what Murphy was saying.

 

"Told you we shouldn't've let him go up there."

 

Warren's eyes narrowed, glaring at the man who was already making his way past her.

 

"Not the time, Murphy." She warned, voice deadly low, but she drew away from glaring at Murphy, looking around the building. "We just need to find wherever the hell he is."

 

Air duct. That or somewhere close.

 

"Somewhere up there." Cassandra's eyes wondered the building, looking around the area that Doc was screaming from.

 

"Yeah, in the air duct over there." It was Murphy who pointed it out, not to 10K's surprise, pushing past the guard who aimed his gun at all of them. "Let us in." Murphy growled, but his voice was quick, almost like he was worried. Not that that was surprising either. Murphy seemed to like Doc, as far as 10K could tell.

 

"Not gonna happen." The guard's voice was still untroubled by anything as his gun was held loosely in his hands. The man's finger wasn't even close to the trigger, so 10K took it that the guard had no intention to shoot them in his fogged-up mind. Easy to get past then.

 

"We're going up after him." Garnett pushed past Murphy, standing close to the guard in hopes to intimidate him. The way the guard seemed unaffected by anything at the moment gave 10K the clue that the guard didn't really care for the tense atmosphere.

 

"No, you don't." The guard slurred, head lolling to either side as his eyes blinked slowly. Warren's gun was already pointed towards the guard's head as the rest of the group jogged up the stairs. 10K took the back, making sure to keep the group safe from behind as Warren and Garnett got them inside.

 

"Let us up now." Garnett's voice was the same as it had been back in Philly when he was trying to get Mack to think logically. Calm, if 10K had to put a word to it.

 

"Nobody goes upstairs without the General's orders." The guard pushed the gun closer towards Garnett's chest, but Garnett had enough thought about him to know the guy wasn't going to fire. Even when Garnett's hand moved slowly towards his gun, or when Warren pushed hers to the temple of the guard's head, the man didn't flinch.

 

Even in the guard's muddled mind, 10K could see something flash across his face. His best guess was that the guard noticed he was out numbered. From Blake's, Warren's and Murphy's pistol to Mack's gun, the guard knew that it'd be a unfair fight.

 

So, he let Garnett draw his gun without a problem, pushing it against the guard's face even though 10K was pretty sure he didn't even feel it.

 

"We go up now or I scramble your egg-brain inside the shell." Garnett threated, digging the muzzle into the side of the guard's mouth.

 

There was a long pause of silence before Murphy interrupted, aiming his own pistol to the guard's side in more of an anxious manner than before. "Are we going up or not?"

 

10K could tell Murphy was worried. About time, probably, or even something else that was more of a prominent threat. Like something stuck in the air duct with Doc, or something threatening above him. So yeah, time if anything.

 

"You'll be sorry." The guard muttered out, crinkled, nearly unresponsive eyes looking over to Murphy for a brief moment before flashing back to the gun rested against his teeth.

 

It wasn't really a warning from the guard. 10K knew a threat when he heard one, and that's exactly what the guard had given them. Taking from the conversation with the General beforehand, 10K could tell the guy was on the delusional side. It was easy to tell. Whatever they were up against that they would be sorry for, was mostly likely what happened to get Doc to call for help in an air duct.

 

"So will you cuz you're coming up with us." Garnett pulled the guard to where the camera was, setting the pistol to the back of his neck as Murphy kept his aimed at the guard's side and Warren a little ways from his head. Kinda unnecessary when you think about it, but at least they got all bases covered.

 

As the guard pressed in the code, Garnett called to him. "10K! Cover our flank. Don't let man or zombie follow us up."

 

At least he was able to help in a benefiting way. He wanted to make sure Doc was okay, but he liked getting the job of protecting the group's backs. Makes him feel wanted…needed in the group in a nice sorta way. Like he was essential.

 

10K nodded towards the man, calling a "Yes, sir." over his shoulder as he heaved himself back up onto the ambulance, setting up his rifle again to snipe anything that remained a threat. He kept an ear out for the others, listening as the glass doors slide open and the pounding of footsteps dissipated down the hall.

 

With the group safely in, and him being properly set up, he looked through his scope again, taking in the scene of rotting bodies limping their way closer to the building.

 

Cover their flank.

 

He brought his scope to the zombie tripping its way down the hill, barely focusing on the Z's features as bullet hole was blown through its head.

 

"One thousand ninety-three."

 

The Z he was aiming for fell back, almost in a dramatic way that amused 10K, but it wasn't really that that caught his attention. The zombie that shifted its way in front of the one he was aiming for took the first half of the bullet's velocity, falling to the ground.

 

"No." Two in one shot. He smiled, taking his eyes off the scope to look towards his two new kills. "Ninety-four."

 

After a little of taking out the few Zs that limped around the area, the small wave seemed to stop, leaving 10K nothing to do but wait. He didn't mind that. He learned patience way before the zombies took over the world, and if he was being honest, he didn't really mind the break.

 

The whole past few weeks felt like one thing after another, and 10K wasn't really used to it. He was used to scavenging through the woods, killing Zs where he could, hiding from survivors, and every now and then, stopping to help a survivor or so when he knew he could get away without any of them noticing him. Simple life in the zombie apocalypse. Alone but simple, and that was really all he needed.

 

Then Doc offered him that ride, and looking back on it, he knew now how much he missed having a human to interact with. Normally too. Not just a way to trade or like he was a kid with a sniper that could be used to protect a group for some time before they deemed him not needed. It was nice to be around people who cared and didn't decide to get up and abandon him one day.

 

He had been decently surprised to see the group waiting there for him and Cassandra back in Philadelphia. He assumed when they didn't come as quickly, the group would've just left with who they had to get to safety. Despite the day, seeing them waiting for him and Cassandra there was nice and a different change of pace that he accepted.

 

It was rare that folks in the apocalypse would care about anyone other than themselves. This dream group of his just managed to deviate out of the standard he previously expected them to be.

 

But it was still different, even if this group was out of the ordinary in more ways than one. It was taking time to get used to being in a large group, but the relentless events that followed this dream group never stopped.

 

It was the office building getting filled up with Zs, to the Refinery the day after that. Then it was Philly, which 10K tried to veer his mind away from, and then a week after that, it was the bandits and here with the group going to save Doc.

 

It was…a lot, and having this cooldown moment was one 10K didn't know he needed. He kept himself propped up on his elbows near his bag and rifle, trying to keep his mind from wandering too far. Too far into the things he had been trying to forget this past week.

 

So he focused his attention back on Blake and Murphy's interactions. Everything just felt off about them. Blake in general, really. There was something about her that didn't add up. But then again, that could just be the effects of being around actual human beings who weren't out for blood or your stuff.

 

Still, there was just something different. He didn't like saying he 'felt it', but she just didn't feel right. Maybe it was paranoia to being with a group, but why didn't he feel that way with all the others? He didn't remember Blake in his dream that he had near a month ago. It was just Cassandra, Doc, Addy, and Mack. Seeing Blake there, the tall ginger-headed lady, wasn't what he remembered.

 

Then again, he didn't remember a giant cheese wheel crushing zombies down a hill, so not everything in his dreams could be trusted.

 

But then there were her and Murphy's reactions. Murphy's definitely looked like he knew events were going to happen. Finding out Cassandra was a cannibal or seeing that Travis guy, it just looked like he saw it coming from a mile away.

 

And maybe that was the case. Murphy had seen the baby's car seat from afar, guessed there was a baby roaming the area (and was probably a zombie) and chalked it up to being a baby's cry when there was no baby around at all. Murphy had an admirable observance that 10K couldn't deny.

 

Blake, on the other hand, did react when Murphy usually didn't, but her actions at times just looked…too forced. Back at the Refinery or before they had went up towards the machine gun to protect the group. She reacted towards the scenarios that occurred but then forced reactions after that. Similar to Murphy, but a more watered-down version type.

 

By the end of Philly, Blake and Murphy's reaction seemed genuine, but after getting away from the cannibals, 10K couldn't say he really paid much attention to them.

 

He hadn't even realized he zoned out, looking down towards his hands that rubbed against each other. His pale skin was red and raw as his nails picked across his flesh. He could still feel the phantom of hot blood trickling down his hands and in-between his fingers. He could feel the knife in a death grip in his hands when he was looking down towards the defenseless victim tied down in front of him.

 

No matter how hard he tried to forget, he still saw their faces. He could see the relief like all the pain would go away, or even some that smiled, happy to know it was all over. 10K tried to tell himself over and over that it was the right thing to do, but looking back over his decisions, he couldn't tell if it was.

 

He had just murdered all those men. Cold-blooded murder as the men looked as if they were set free like a bird stuck in a cage or a bear in a trap. They were happy, but 10K knew it wasn't right.

 

He never killed that many things before besides Zs. No animals, no people, but that day, he had, and it wasn't like looking into a Z's milky eyes like his Pa had been.

 

No. No. He told himself he'd try to forget Philly. He wasn't about to draw himself back into his mind like he had this past week. The apocalypse's horrors wouldn't cease just because he couldn't cope with what he did. He had to move on. Face what he did as his reality and keep protecting the group, killing zombies, and focusing on this mission for humanity. It was best that way.

 

He quickly dug in his back pocket, retrieving one of his last cigarettes that he found a long while back. 10K wasn't really a smoker. Not really. He'd do it time and time again to take his mind off of things. A little piece of relief, as his Pa would sometimes call it.

 

After awhile, it was easy to get used to the burn in his lungs or feeling it sting the back of his throat. It didn't hurt anymore.

 

Without much effort, he retrieved his lighter, hoping there was enough fluid to last him for this last cigarette. Luckily, there was, as 10K held the white, tightly wrapped cigarette in one hand, using his other hand that was still propped up on his elbow to use the lighter.

 

The flame flickered some before burning the tip of the cigarette, allowing him to take a drag. He barely registered the burn as he blew the smoke to the side, gently setting the cigarette aside into a holder attached to his rifle. 

 

He let the smoke guide him in which way the wind was blowing, setting his line of sight back on the scope. The wave of the undead from before had dimmed some, but there were still some stragglers littering the area.

 

Without any issue, he quickly spotted another Z dressed in tattered, bloody military gear drag itself down the hill and towards him. Everything felt like slow motion, going over the steps in his head that were like clockwork.

 

Steady, aim

 

The steps were easy, 10K had done it plenty times before, but the second his finger pressed back on the trigger, he knew he was off. The bullet hit the barbed wire fence as he drew his head up, looking out to his failed attempt at mercying the Z. He expected it, deep down he knew his aim wasn't properly sighted, but it had been so long since he had missed a shot like that.

 

An easy shot, if anything.

 

He had time. There were no Zs crowding around him. There was nothing that was threating the group that he couldn't handle. There was no pressure, no reason he should have missed.

 

But he did.

 

He grabbed the cigarette back again, taking another drag. There was an itching feeling at the back of his mind, something he refused to address, that wouldn't go away. No matter the times he lit a cigarette, no matter the times he knew he was safe. It was always there.

 

After everything in these past few weeks, it was hard to escape it anymore. There were so many instances that it was brought to light, but it was easier to push it down. To move on, because what else could he do? When you're all alone, you can't sit down in the middle of the woods and cry. You can't let yourself do anything but survive.

 

He'd be a goner if he did.

 

The apocalypse never lets anyone dwell on emotions. You can't without the threat of getting killed. Of getting someone else killed.

 

It's not worth having to watch them die.

 

He remembered the whole mantra was the reason he never joined any group. If they died, if he couldn't save them, what was the point in suffering all over again? What was the point of risking some sort of hope when he'd just have to watch them die? When he wasn't allowed to break down because in the end, he'd end up with them as well.

 

After his Pa's death, 10K couldn't risk going through that again. He couldn't watch the people he loved die in front of him. But this group, there was something about them that told him they defied odds. That his mantra, that having to watch them die, that refusing to join, it wasn't worth going over. That if he didn't try, he'd be left alone forever, fighting against the zombies and the wackos of the world until his death, all by himself.

 

If this dream group was different, he had to figure it out. Why? Why were they different? Who are they? Why did he dream about them?

 

The mantra had slowly disappeared in his mind the second Doc offered him a ride, but now it was coming back to him. He wanted to be a part of the group. He wanted to figure out all his questions, but was it worth it in the end? Was it worth having to watch them die? Watch Doc die and turn Z?

 

Could he even put Doc down like he did his Pa?

 

10K tried to close his eyes, releasing the smoke in one breath, and forgetting his inner battle of feelings he'd rather not deal with while protecting the group. He didn't want to repeat what he wanted to deny. He didn't want to be the reason that they died.

 

But even when he tried to forget, he couldn't help as the memories of the past clogged his mind more than the ones that seemed to predict the future.

 

-- line break---

 

Tommy knew it was July by now. He had been keeping track. Almost nine months since the apocalypse started didn't seem as hard to grasp as the situation he was in now. Even the fact that Black Summer was in full swing didn't feel as hard to grasp as right now.

 

The night was more than humid. At times, it felt like he was choking on his own breath. Maybe that contributed to the thin cigarette he had been desperately trying to light with shaky hands. The metal was burning his fingers, but he just couldn't get the tip to light, no matter the amount of times he held the flame against the paper.

 

He could hear his father wheezing beneath him. Labored breaths begging his Pa's lungs for air as he coughed, convulsing into himself like any sudden movement hurt. Tommy's hands shook even more, trying to keep his focus on one of his Pa's requests, keeping his eyes away from the pained form lying in front of him.

 

The past few weeks felt like a blur compared to the months since the apocalypse started. Tommy didn't even know when it happened. They had been trying to get away from the zombies, his Pa taking out the few that were surrounding the truck and yelling back to him to get the truck started. The whole truck was trash, they both knew it no matter the amount of times they tried to repair it. Even Pre-Z, they knew it wouldn't hold up for long.

 

But Tommy had tried like heck. He had been mashing his foot on the brake, turning the key. He hadn't even paid much attention to the commotion outside. It was all happening too quickly, and he knew if he didn't get the truck started, him and his Pa wouldn't make it out alive.

 

The second he had gotten the engine to start, Tommy heard the yell. His pride to getting the truck started fell instantly when he heard his Pa scream. There was so much pain, so much fear, that Tommy fooled himself into thinking that his father had been bitten. He had been so afraid that he had lost his Pa that he had threw open the truck door, getting out and over to his Pa.

 

The zombies around the truck had been mercied, each by his Pa's hands, but Tommy didn't care to pay attention to it. He just had to get to his Pa, and that's what he did. He found him leaning against the truck's back wheel, blood pouring down the side of his shoulder as a Z with rusted metal spikes protruding out of its chest laid at his father's feet.

 

Without thinking, he had kicked the zombie aside, crouching down to his father without a care. He hadn't even thought of the possibilities that his father could turn zombie at any moment, or that there could be more of the undead around. It was only like tunnel vision, focusing on the only living thing in his life that was important.

 

His father had given a hiss of pain as Tommy's hand ghosted the wound, but once fogged eyes had meant Tommy's panicked ones, it had looked as if all the pain completely disappeared. It was like an unwavering determination took over, patting Tommy's back as if all was fine and well.

 

"C'mon. Help me up. We got no idea how many more are coming our way."

 

So Tommy had done what he was told, heaving his father up, and despite his Pa's arguments, helping him into the truck. Tommy tried to move his Pa to the passenger's seat, taking his own luck in the driver's, but his Pa insisted that he was alright, turning to him once they were in the truck and setting a large, comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

"I'm alright, son." There was a sparkle of life in his eyes that Tommy could never forget. A warm smile rested on his face, eyes crinkled in joy as if his bleeding shoulder was nothing compared to trying to comfort his son.

 

But Tommy knew it wasn't alright. Everything after that had not been alright.

 

They had tried to clean his Pa's wound with any and everything of antibiotics that they had or could find. His Pa never wanted to travel any further past the reserve and the nearby towns. He had refused to go anywhere close to the city. They both knew that it was where the large mobs of zombies crowded, but Tommy also knew it was where he might find better antibiotics that hadn't been raided day one.

 

His Pa never let him go though. No matter his pleas or cries that if they didn't fix it, it would only get worse.

 

And then days after the first happening of the wound, Tommy dreamt. Of watching his father lie on the ground, tied up in a rope and supported by miscellaneous items that they had. He dreamt about watching his Pa thrash against the rope, milky white eyes staring at his own as blood dripped against greenish flesh.

 

It was never the same after that. Only a couple of times had his dreams been true. The apocalypse had been one of them. His father had brushed it off before, saying it was only dreams, and Tommy believed him. Because how could he not? He had never seen a zombie movie or anything like that, but he knew it was all false.

 

Fiction.

 

And yet here they were.

 

His father told him to always tell him about his dreams. Good, bad. If one of them dies. Anything, and Tommy never tried to hide anything from his Pa. There was no reason to.

 

But telling his Pa that he saw him as a zombie only changed things. He had already accepted death. His Pa knew he wasn't going to make it, and as the infection spread, he had made Tommy repeat their plan every night.

 

"If I can't move anymore, what do you do?"

 

"I…I tie you up."

 

"How?"

 

"Double-half-hitch…like you always taught me."

 

It was always the proud smile across his father's teary face that always made him break. He couldn't understand how his dad was okay with any of this. How he seemed so fine with dying. It wasn't right, but the plan always continued, no matter the times Tommy had sobbed against his father, or the number of reassuring pats his father had given him as he whispered beside him.

 

"And if I turn?"

 

Tommy had never been able to answer the last question. He could never imagine himself killing his Pa. Every time he would think back to his dream, all he saw was the rotting form of his own father try to break from his bonds. It wasn't his dad. Tommy knew it wasn't, but seeing his father turned into a zombie, lying tied down with rope, was something he could never push away long enough to answer the question.

 

But here they were. The infection had become too much tonight, and his father had collapsed against the steering wheel as they drove down the dirt road. Tommy had been able to pull the truck over to the side, helping his Pa out and onto the ground in front of the headlights. He had insisted, and insisted that he was all right, even as Tommy had tried to sit him up, but when the shivers started, and his father could barely breath against the humidity, the whole mood had changed.

 

Tommy had went to change his father's bandages, looking for any sort of antibiotic they had left, even when he knew there was none. When he took the old, grimy bandages off, revealing the putrid mess of flesh bleeding down across his Pa's clothes, Tommy couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath, staring at the wound for a long moment before wrapping it up again.

 

His Pa was too weak to realize what he was doing, constantly shivering and blinking rapidly like he was having some sort of seizure. Tommy had been quick to try and remove anything that was keeping his Pa from breathing properly; taking off his hat, the sniper rifle, and the dirty, brown scarf gently hung against his father's neck. He had went to use the latter piece of cloth as an extra wrap for his father's shoulder, but his Pa had grabbed his wrist, weakly pulling it down.

 

"Tommy…" It was only a whisper, too quiet to keep Tommy from going into a spiral of a panic he was desperately trying to hold off. "You know what you have to do."

 

He did, but he didn't want to do it. After weeks on end of the days blending into one another, he couldn't believe this was what his dream was leading up to. He wasn't going to believe this was where his dad would die.

 

"No…no, you're fine."

 

He was fine. He had to be fine because Tommy wouldn't know what to do if he wasn't. He couldn't believe this was where his dream started. This wasn't where. His Pa would be fine. He knew he would be.

 

"Tommy." It was croaked out in such desperation, packed into a struggled breath, but Tommy wouldn't acknowledge it.

 

"You're fine, Pa." He refused to believe that he was saying it as reassurance for himself. It wasn't because it had to be true.

 

But his Pa had only shook his head, teary eyes filling up as a gentle smile lined his face. "Get the rope, son."

 

Tommy couldn't accept it, shaking his head as his own vision became blurry. His Pa wouldn't die here. He wouldn't. This road they were on, the headlights that blared across them, the humidity that choked them and the crickets that sang in the lifeless bushes, this wasn't where his Pa died. It wasn't where he turned.

 

Tommy wanted to believe it was somewhere else.

 

"You remember your dream." His father had smiled back at him though, grabbing his hands despite the constant shakes. "What did I tell you? You gotta listen to them." His grip was frail, but Tommy could tell it was meant to be an encouraging squeeze. "You can't change it."

 

He couldn't, but he didn't want to believe that.

 

His Pa had went into another coughing fit, puking up blood and any other content that was eaten out of their diminishing supplies. His skin was a deathly pale, even in the shining yellow lights that the headlights reflected across them. Through his coughs, and Tommy trying to help his Pa in any way that he could, he was able to get out a few, nearly undistinguishable words.

 

"Please…please."

 

And as much as Tommy didn't want to do it, as much as he didn't want to accept it, he had to because this was reality. It was a reality that his dream predicted, and for the past few weeks, they had been preparing for it.

 

So he had tied his Pa up, just as he asked, setting coolers and anything else that he could find that could support his dad's head. He had tried to get his father as comfortable as possible, despite the prohibiting circumstances they were in.

 

"C-cigare--" His shaky words were hard to make of with the whispering, but Tommy knew what his Pa was asking for.

 

And that was where they were now, Tommy desperately trying to light the nicotine infused paper roll as his father shivered and shook beneath him. With many failed attempts with his own shaking hands, Tommy finally got the cigarette to light, taking a puff to get it started for his father, but only ending up inhaling the smoke, starting himself into a coughing fit as well.

 

His lungs burned as his eyes blurred, but hearing his father's shivering breaths drew him back to reality. He gently set it against his Pa's lips, watching as his already closed eyes shut further, both from the light and the infection taking over.

 

Tommy had never thought he would see his father like this. So weak, vulnerable. His face was covered in sweat, his head too hot, but he was shivering like it was snowing outside. He could barely keep his eyes open, much less breath without some sort of struggle.

 

His Pa persisted on taking a drag from the cigarette though, breathing becoming even more struggled and shaky as his head lolled from side to side. Tommy didn't know what to do, watching his father slowly turn into the creature in his dreams. Something he couldn't prevent from happening, no matter the times he told himself that he could.

 

If he just got the truck to start sooner. If he had been strong enough to kill the zombies with his Pa. Maybe, maybe, none of this would have happened. Maybe his Pa wouldn't be dying from an infection, and he wouldn't be left here unable to save the man who raised him.

 

"Thank you, son." It was only a whisper still, but it was weaker than it was before. "It's good."

 

Tommy knew he was talking about the cigarette, but the first sentence, thanking him and all, Tommy couldn't help but hide his tears. Not now. He couldn't cry now.

 

"Can I do anything for you?" There had to be something he could do. He couldn't just sit here and watch his dad die right in front of him. "There has to be something."

 

There had to be some antibiotics they missed. Something life saving. Something that would keep this from turning out just like his dream.

 

He brushed the stray tears off his face, going to push himself up from on his knees, but he was stuck in place as his father's hand gently brushed against his from under the ropes.

 

"Thomas." His voice was strict, harsh even, trying to get his point across, but his face was gentle, staring directly at him as if only a look could calm the situation they were in. Like the sea would calm with a gentle smile, like Jesus calming the sea with one command.

 

It got him to stop, but it didn't keep the swirling emotions from festering inside of him.

 

"Make sure those knots are tight."

 

Always with the ropes. He knew it was because his Pa didn't want to turn and attack him. He knew it was for his son's protection rather than his own, but Tommy knew that meant that his father would have to be a zombie for that to happen.

 

"It's not gonna be long now."

 

The struggle in his voice was even more of an indicator that their time was running short, no matter how much Tommy didn't want to accept it. He could only bring himself to nod, watching as his Pa squirmed under the ropes to make sure they were tight.

 

"It's double-half-hitch. Just like you taught me." He knew his Pa knew that. It was always a part of the plan, but reciting what his father always wanted him to answer with felt necessary. Not comforting, but needed.

 

"Just be sure." His father's head snapped up towards him, large eyes focusing solely on Tommy.

 

He did as he was told, leaning over his father to check that in his panic-state he had correctly done his deal of the plan.

 

"Promise me…" His Pa breathed out, head tilted to the side away from the car's headlights. Tommy was quick to looked back towards his Pa, knowing the knots were tight, but wanting to look his father in the eyes, something he was afraid he'd never do again.

 

"-- you'll do what we talked about… when the time comes."

 

You'll kill me.

 

Tommy didn't want to. He wasn't even sure if he could, but he nodded anyway, holding back his tears as his eyes trailed away from looking at his father's.

 

"Promise me!" His silence caused his Pa to worry, trying to yell to get his point across, but it only came out choked, cracking into a normal tone but enough that Tommy knew that it was suppose to be a raised voice.

 

"I promise." He did, he will, but he didn't know if he could. "Just like we talked about." Just like the part he could never get to. "I swear."

 

The heavy breaths of his Pa's only barely occupied the silence before he spoke again, too forced in the whisper. "Don't swear." He chastised, but there was no bite in his words.  "Your mother never liked that."

 

Tommy couldn't help but looked away, refusing the tears that threatened to fall. His mother would've never liked most of the things that they had to do in the apocalypse. Killing zombies. Tying his own father up. Secluding themselves away from society like Pre-Z even though there were survivors out there fighting for their lives, looking for people to help them.

 

His Ma was the type of woman that would take in a baby bird or a little baby mouse left behind as a rodent and nurse it back to health. She was the type of woman that helped any and everybody. She never let someone suffer when she saw them. His Pa always said she was too good for the world, and that's why she left early. Tommy liked to believe that, thinking that she was watching down on him from Heaven, like her and Pa would always try to teach him about.

 

He always tried to follow what they said. His Ma didn't like swearing, and Tommy would try as hard as he could to refrain from using it. His Pa wanted him to use his dreams and to follow what they talked about. Both, Tommy tried to abide by.

 

"I promise." He amended, drawing his eyes back up from the ground to look at his Pa's.

 

"Good." He was meant back with his father staring at him, the same look of loving pride that, no matter the situation, he had always looked at Tommy with. "I could always trust you to do the right thing." Between the varying pitches of trying to force out his words, his Pa's head fell to the side, an unsettling feeling rising in Tommy as he moved forwards, but his Pa drew his head back up again, crying through heaving breaths.

 

"You're a good boy."

 

How could he be good if he failed to save his own dad? If he couldn't protect the one person he loved?

 

"Your mother, she'd be proud of the man you're growing up to be."

 

Tommy couldn't help but doubt it, watching as his Pa struggled for air, adjusting himself against the ropes and the bag underneath him. But his Pa continued to smile at him, as if nothing else in the world mattered but this moment.

 

"Give me another puff." The crying before turned into gentle laughter, his mouth open like it helped him breath better from the infection that was quickly catching up to him. "Will ya?"

 

If Tommy would have known that was the last time his Pa would take a drag from the cigarette, he would've tried to hold off the moment for as long as he could. As he took the cigarette away from his father's mouth, and as the smoke swirled in the air along with their breaths showing in the headlight's lights, his Pa's eyes lightly closed for a brief moment, relishing in blowing out the little smoke as a gentle smile rested on his lips. Tears fell down his face as they snapped back over towards Tommy. "I love you, son."

 

A final goodbye.

 

Tommy let his own shaky breath leave him, clenching his jaw to keep from crying. He couldn't cry. His Pa was strong for him, and he'd be strong for his Pa. He'd accept that this was the end, even when he didn't want to. He'd tell him he loved him for the last time.

 

But he wasn't able to as his Pa's smiles turned into sudden thrashings, twisting against the ropes as he cried out.

 

Tommy had tried to hold him down, abandoning the brown scarf that was at his side with the knife wrapped inside it. He didn't know what to do to help his Pa. He didn't know how to keep him from breaking free, or throwing himself around in a fit to keep the pain away because of the body's natural reaction towards the infection.

 

He tried as best as he could though, holding his dad down in an effort to keep him from hurting himself any more. The kicking and thrashing settled in mere seconds after the fit, his Pa's body going limp to the side as his eyes fluttered.

 

"Pa?"

 

His eyes were too veered off; too unresponsive even when Tommy brought his Pa's face to looked up at him.

 

"Pa…Are you-" Tommy couldn't even force himself to say the whole sentence, holding his father's limp head in his hands. It was so quiet after that, and Tommy knew now was the time to provide his Pa mercy. Before he turned into a zombie. Just like his dad wanted.

 

But he couldn't do it, and his hesitation caused his father to snap back to life. His eyes were the milky, clouded white that he remembered from his dream. It was an immediate change from the sickly, pale skin-tone to the rotting green against graying skin. Unlike the struggling for air before, his Pa only growled at him, gnashing his teeth in a trying effort to bite him.

 

Tommy drew his hands back, pushing himself away as stared at the zombie he remembered from his dream. The same time, the same night, the same everything. It was always the same, it always ended the same, no matter how much (little or big) that he tried to change it. Running the opposite way, looking for antibiotics. No matter what he did, he couldn't change it. Like it was some type of fate. That it was always meant to happen.

 

He pushed himself back onto his knees, grabbing the knife in a death grip, his eyes never leaving his Pa's as he struggled with the scarf. He put his hand back on his father's chest, holding him down from trying to bite him as he held the knife in the other, raising it above his Pa's head, trying as hard as he could to fulfill what his dad wanted.

 

But every time he looked at his face, disregarding the gruesome features of the zombie he vividly remembered from his dreams, he would always see his Pa. Teaching him how to shoot, helping him fish, showing him how to survive long before the world became a horror movie.

 

Every time he brought his knife down, all he could see was his Pa hugging him, smiling at him no matter the situation.

 

But this wasn't his Pa. The milky white eyes and black gnashing teeth; The snarling form that tried at any and every opportunity to bite him, to turn him into a meal for the zombie, it wasn't his Pa. The struggling form beneath him was not his Pa's.

 

It was a zombie, and that's exactly what it was. An it. Not his Pa. Not a human.

 

It.

 

Tommy's hand pressed down further against its chest, holding the zombie down as the knife hung tightly above its head.

 

"I'm sorry, Papa."

 

If you're in there, I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry it was my fault.

 

It wasn't the zombie's struggling that held him back. But the face of his Pa was what held him back from killing the thing he promised his Pa he would not become. It had felt like hours now, looking, searching for something, but nothing was there. It was just this thing that consumed his dad, and he promised he wouldn't let it happen.

 

He pressed the tip against its head, silently hoping for some sign that his Pa was still in there. That the zombie would leave, and his Pa would be back to normal. That he would somehow have his dad back. That it wasn't like his dream.

 

"I love you."

 

 But that never came. It was still there, snarling at him, despite his efforts to get his Pa back.

 

Tommy didn't waste time after that, bringing both hands to push down on the knife, giving the zombie mercy, and fulfilling his promise to his Pa. But after pulling the knife out, after watching its stiff form lie motionless to the ground, Tommy couldn't help but finally cry, falling to the other side of his Pa and fully onto the ground by the truck.

 

The realization hadn't even set in now that he was all on his own. He just knew that his Pa was gone and that the zombie that had taken over his body was killed by his hands. It was his first kill.

 

The zombie that his Pa had become was his very first kill and now he was all alone.

 

--- line break ---

 

Murphy's POV:

 

God dammit. Always. It always turned out the same way, didn't it? He tried to change it, and look what happened. They're still rushing their asses up the Headquarters to save Doc from the vents.

 

He told them, didn't he? Murphy clearly stated that they shouldn't come here. That they should leave. Right? Did he just have cotton clogging his ears and a gag in his mouth, or were they just not listening?

 

Murphy let out a disgruntled sigh, grinding his teeth together as he followed behind Warren. The badass woman he knew and loved seemed completely oblivious to what was at stake-- which, fair. It wasn't like she had all the knowledge of the future that him and Blake had, but still. Warren was unquestionably very intelligent, and exceedingly observant when picking up on other's bullshit. How she managed to miss Blake's 'ever-so-great acting' (notice the sarcasm) was far beyond what Murphy could fathom.

 

But here they were, rushing into the building like some FBI agents playing follow the leader with the guard as their hostage. Mack was first to get into the metal death contraption of an elevator that Murphy was still scared shitless over. Garnett, who had been leading the pack with Warren by his side, had shoved the guard in in front of him, still keeping a steady hand with the gun rested on the guard's head.

 

Cassandra and Addy were quick to push past Murphy, getting inside the elevator as Murphy stopped to the side. He hated elevators so much. What was this, the fifth time he had to go on one in the apocalypse? Yes, that included both this and last time, which God, Murphy was going to have a brain malfunction trying to keep up with.

 

Blake raised an eyebrow at him, side-stepping past him, but standing in the elevator's door to let him inside. She obviously thought he had some trick up his sleeve, thinking somewhere along the lines of him letting the group go up and he'd reek havoc while they're up at the top floor. Which, first off, wasn't going to happen. He had better things to do than let Blake be with most of the group. And secondly, that was exactly his point. There was no way in hell he'd allow Blake free reign around his group. She was a part of the Risen after all, and considering the delusional mindset he had to deal with for two years in their gratuitous rebellion, he would rather she be on the other side of the world and far away from the group, if anything.

 

But again, some dreams are left at the doorstep and squashed by unwelcomed visitors.

 

Murphy hesitated, barely sparing Blake a second glance as he held himself against the cool metal doors that dinged before him. Blake held the door open with her back, impatiently waiting for him to get in as Warren shook her head at him.

 

What? It's not like he can help it. Living with the horrors of the zombie elevator had not been easy. Given, it's not the main thing he prioritizes his worries over, but the damn zombie chandelier and piling masses of bodies working their way in from the top was something he hadn't ever wanted to repeat again. And he still did! He's tired of repeats, and he is totally tired of elevators.

 

"Murphy." Warren's voice, the one now he still cherishes even if she's pissed at him, because it's still Warren. She's not dead, she's not killed with a bullet to the skull, and he wouldn't let it happen ever again. Because the ginger-haired person right next to him is the cause of her death, and he could stop it. "Get your ass in here."

 

Last time, he didn't get a warning, so he's gotta be working with the group in relationships better this time around. Hopefully. Better they like him than they like Blake.

 

"Yeah, um-- about that." Sure he didn't prioritize his fear for enclosed spaces in a metal box that could collapse to the ground at any moment, but it was still there. "Couldn't we take the stairs?" Like civilized people in the apocalypse, because when does the electricity ever work out properly?

 

None of them answered his question, only rolling their eyes like he said the dumbest phrase ever spoken. He tried to keep from hyperventilating as Blake purposely bumped him into the elevator, and as Warren grabbed his jacket, pulling him the rest of the way in as the door creaked shut in front of them.

 

"Seriously? You didn't even think about it." They hadn't even considered his option of heading up the stairs. Same group, still bastards. Part of him is glad they hadn't changed.

 

"What floor is the General on?" Garnett asked, as calm as he could muster as the guard responded back, still in his hazed state of drug addict wonderland. Murphy wished he was on some of that too. Better than having to listen and feel the elevator slowly climb to the top floor, or feel some of the group's and Blake's eyes penetrating holes into him.

 

"He's the General, man. What floor do you think he's on?" The guard asked, swaying from side to side, none to Garnett's help even with his hand rested on the guard's shoulder and the gun pointed at his neck.

 

Murphy still felt some of the other's eyes watching him carefully, so he cracked one eye open, dead set on finding out who. None of them had been too eager to find out why he was freaking out last time, so curiosity got the best of him to find out what warranted the new reaction. Or because he was annoyed, but either were reasonable reactions to their actions.

 

Of course, Blake was one of the ones to be staring daggers at him, but that was a given so he bypassed staring at her. No need to look at something that isn't important. To him, at least. He could care less if she dropped dead right now.

 

Besides the Risen member, Warren was shooting him glances every now and then, giving him a pointed look when he looked towards her, but not responding otherwise. Mack, Addy, and Cassandra also spared some of their attention on him, which again, wasn't too surprising.

 

He saw them watching him and Blake last night. Mack, Addy, Cass, and the kid. He had a clue that they saw most of the things, and hopefully Blake aiming the gun at him, which was what he was going for in the first place. If some of the members of his group saw Blake act out brashly like that, her reputation she was afraid to soil might just be more than ruined.

 

So, of course, riling her up to aim her gun at him was intentional, and he supposed the three's stares at him could be linked to that. New circumstance offers new circumstances. Bullshit that he was tired of focusing on, but knew when it could play into his favor.

 

Still, the three of them weren't as subtle with their gazes like Warren was, staring at him for a bit longer than he was sure they would have liked.

 

"What are you staring at?" There wasn't much of a bite in his words, but he was annoyed, so it was inevitable to some degree.

 

Cassandra was quick to turn her attention away from him, occupying her time with the knife that 10K had given her this time. Which, Murphy might add, had his curiosity peaked on why she seemed so enthused with it. (His guess? New weapon, new memory. Gotta set off some synapsis to trigger a memory.) Mack also looked away, but mustering as much of an annoyance that Murphy felt, as he shook his head and looked over towards Garnett.

 

Addy, on the other hand, was as stubborn as she was back before the Risen killed her. Wasn't one to back down from a fight, and despite laughing at her boyfriend not wearing underwear, was every bit and piece of the one-eyed zombie slayer he remembered. Except she hadn't overcome her traumatic past that lingered in her eyes like some sort of dark shadow.

 

And she still had both eyes, which was worth mentioning.

 

"What's your deal with elevators?" There was genuine curiosity in her voice despite the little aggravation that settled in her tone. The other's eyes turned towards him, curious, but not entranced as if he would tell an eventful tale.

 

Loss to them, because he had enough of those up his sleeve.

 

"Couldn't say my time in them have been pleasing." He shrugged, using the conversation to keep his panic down. "Would've preferred taking the stairs."

 

Warren knew the last bit was aimed at her and Garnett, but she only shook her head back towards him. "You wanna walk all the way to the top floor?"

 

He loved Warren's need to never back down. One of the things he admired about the woman, and a reason she had been the one he would follow. Her bitch, as she tended to call him from time to time.

 

"Better than dying." He shot back, a smile twitching on his face as Addy tapped her Z-Whacker against the metal wall.

 

"C'mon. There are worse things than being stuck in an elevator." Her head as tilted back as a smile lined Addy's face. "What if there were zombies coming up either side of the stairwell?"

 

God, did everyone follow that logic? Hammond and now Addy.

 

He threw a glare back at her, remembering the horrific scene of zombies fighting their way through all ends of the elevator. The darkness enclosing him and Hammond as they tried to not get bitten from the second time around in that shit-show.

 

"When you get stuck in an elevator with a zombie chandelier, you can speak to me about it." Murphy smirked back towards her, watching as Addy eyed him for a moment before letting herself laugh out. Not so much as when the Liberty Bell crushed the undead on the sidewalk, but a laugh nonetheless.

 

The moment with the group, one that almost was calm despite the circumstance (and despite Blake being there) only lasted for so long, but Murphy wished it could have drawn out further. The rattling of the metal and the buzz of the limited electricity powering the elevator continued as it climbed from floor to floor.

 

It felt too long, in Murphy's opinion. Then again, it had been nearly twelve years now that he had been back in this situation, so who was he to tell if the time was different or not.

 

"Now what?" Warren asked, looking between Garnett and the guard's head in the jam-packed elevator. Of course, irritancy was easily spotted in her voice, courtesy of a fair amount of time passing in the death contraption they were stuck in.

 

Garnett took a moment before responding, sparing a gaze around the group, falling on Murphy and Blake the longest. "Be ready for anything."

 

Impatiently, Murphy's hands tapped against the metal, releasing deep breaths to keep calm. He pissed most of the group off last time when he had been panicking, which they couldn't have blamed him on, but what's passed has passed, and Murphy made sure to be less panicky this time in the elevator. His constant taps against the metal walls clanged over the buzzing, but Murphy barely heard it as he tried to zone out.

 

The walls felt like they were closing in, too warm and too hot. It was like being trapped back in the elevator with Hammond, or suffocating under the rotting bodies piled on top of him. The moving of the elevator in the unsteady rhythm of going up wasn't one he could get rid of so easily. Shifting upwards, the feeling that it could drop at any moment. Murphy knew the feeling, like back in Roswell with the insane, alien-enthused nut-jobs. The elevator's mass speed causing most of the group to fall around and onto the ground, feeling his body lift up and the darkness consume them as the plummeted downwards.

 

Did Murphy mention he never had good experiences with elevators A.Z.?

 

"Murphy." There was annoyance in Warren's voice as she turned towards him, looking down at his tapping hand. "I swear, if you don't stop that…"

 

 She never got to finish her sentence as the elevator's lights cut out and they were left in the dark. Effectively, he had avoided Warren's slap to the face this time to ground him, but being trapped in the dark again did nothing to calm his nerves.

 

Especially when he couldn't feel any of the others by his side.

 

"Mack!" Addy called, the slightest of concern shining through that at any second, there could be a possibility that they would be split. Or, if attacked, it was better to know where the others were.

 

"I'm here, babe." Mack assured, his voice low and calm, balancing on the verge of holding it together, something Murphy was desperately trying to do. Damn fear of elevators. He wasn't cowardly, but it was hard to overcome something he avoided so often. Even in Toivo, even with electricity, the stairs had always been his number one go-to.

 

"What's going on?" It was Blake who asked, and by how close her voice was, Murphy could immediately tell she was the one that backed up into him. "Warren?" She asked, drawing her hands back the moment she swirled around from backing up into him.

 

"Nope. Just me, Sweetheart." There he made sure there was a bite in his words, glaring at Blake despite the woman not being able to see him.

 

"My luck." It was sneered back, and over the deadly silence of the stopped elevator, the breathed out whisper was more than clear to all the other occupants.

 

Murphy could feel someone other than Blake shift in front on him, tapping their feet against the ground to move forward a bit as one other pair followed. "Hey, why aren't we moving?" Garnett's voice filled the small-lasted silence, taking a slight step forward with the guard.

 

"It'll start in a second." The guard yelled, despite easily being heard, the irritation more than evident in his voice. Despite it, the elevator did start again, much like Murphy remembered even if he was hellbent on getting out. Although, he knew it wouldn't last long, because of course, disregarding his future knowledge, he also had common sense.

 

The power cut on as the lights flickered, and easily he was able to see the rest of the group. Again, most were in their same places, glancing up at the ceiling or the rickety walls that shook each time they traveled upwards. The only person worth noting that changed positions was Blake, hand resting on her axe as she stared at Murphy.

 

Surpassing the smite that always lingered in her looks towards him (evenly reciprocated, if he might add) her eyes were scanning over him, a subtle worry placed behind her black, piercing eyes. He knew the look, if lack of a better phrase, one that prodded for answers. Future answers, to be more specific, and ones Murphy had no intention of revealing.

 

Unlike with some of the other occupants of the group (mainly Warren, Doc, Addy, 10K, and even Cassandra for the brief time she had been his Blend) it was easier to formulate what their silent looks meant towards him, only for the fact that he had been in their heads for an interval of one to two years. (10K's being three, but sparsed out over a period of time.)

 

However, he never had a chance to turn Blake into his Blend last time, so trying to decipher what her mismatched looks really meant were ones he had a bit of trouble with. And if he was being completely honest, he'd tend to ignore her completely, do his own thing, and briefly entertain himself in guessing what she was thinking through her look while being completely off topic.

 

Like now. Her prying look for answers that Murphy could logically guess was asking, 'what is going to happen next?', Murphy liked to replace with, 'Piss off, I'll do it myself.' If only for the fact of her glaring that pointed him in that direction.

 

Hey, if she wants to be bitch, let her be. If she wanted to be that ways towards him-- all the more power to her. He didn't have to give her answers that she wanted, and quite frankly, he never really planned to anyway. Like he said before, he'll handle his own mission. Screw Operation Do-Over, the Risen, and Blake. He didn't need all that to save his group.

 

He had knowledge, and she didn't. All she was here for was because she wanted to 'keep him in line.' Like the note read the day he had been sent back in time, "No splitting, no blends, and death". All Blake was good for was to make sure he didn't do anything the Risen didn't like, but Murphy was the one that had all the power to change the group's fates.

 

Murphy worked better without Blake, as seen multiple times when Blake couldn't prevent shit. Hammond's dead because she failed to save him. End of story. She couldn't do her job, but Murphy can. He didn't need her, but she needed him, and to him, Murphy knew he had the upper hand.

 

So he hadn't given her any insight to what would happen next, but he hadn't been able to revel in his vantage, because as Murphy faintly remembered, the rickety metal box they were stuck in had cut out again, stopping as the power and lights completely turned off.

 

Calm down. It's like last time. No need to freak out when you know what's gonna happen.

 

"Why aren't we moving?" There wasn't fear nor was there annoyance in Garnett's voice; however, Murphy could pick up that the calmness that had been there before had dwindled some, an exasperation taking its place.

 

"What's going on?" From the faint amount of light shining through, Murphy could see Mack's stolen (as if any were theirs to begin with) gun pointed at the guard. Murphy couldn't make out Mack's face, but it was evident that fear and impatience had taken over any sort of calm, kept-together senses Mack had previously dawned.

 

Remembering Mack, which had been so long ago, he wasn't too surprised at the reaction. Mack tended to act out first, ask questions later. Personality quirk that Murphy sometimes remembered Addy with. Over the years, she curbed it, but in her earlier days, all the more prominent.

 

He still wasn't over the ass-whooping she had given him after Mack died (which wasn't his fault! It wasn't like he told Mack to get cornered by zombies), which Murphy still didn't see as justifiable towards him.

 

"All right, everybody needs to relax." The guard's assurance wasn't any at all, and Murphy was often finding himself wondering if this had been all up the guard's sleeve since the beginning. Highly unlikely, but there was worse that happened in the apocalypse from here on out.

 

"Don't mess with us." Mack was clearly fed up already, and Murphy didn't blame him. Albeit, Murphy was more in his own panic of being trapped in the elevator again that 'fed-up' wasn't necessarily the best word.

 

"I'm not messing with you, man." The guard's voice was level, barely below a whisper by the ending.

 

You know what's going to happen. Calm down. Calm down.

 

It was sudden when the power turned back on, racketing through the whole elevator as the lights blared in their eyes. Murphy squinted, taking a couple of deep breathes to calm his nerves, looking past the group and Blake towards the guard. A cynical smile resting on his face that Murphy knew in all ways, shapes, and forms was purely deceiving and mischievous. He had a fair share of run-ins both in the future and the past, not to mention the times Murphy had done so himself.

 

"Anything happens, you'll be the first to go." Garnett warned, but the guard's smile never fell.

 

Or, it hadn't fallen in that moment.

 

Murphy didn't quite remember what happened after the elevator doors rolled back. All he remembered was a big zombie, Doc in the air shaft, running away, an explosion, the general with a bazooka, and the God-awful excuse of a chopper that rested on the roof. Anything besides counting the General's death was foggy in Murphy's memory.

 

But he knew something bad was bound to happen when the doors opened, and his knowledge did not disappoint. He had already drawn his pistol by the time the doors had creaked open, watching as a pile of Zs awaited them, lurking ominously like they were set out waiting for a meal.

 

Hungry…food…eat.

 

Yeah, starved Zs then. Thanks to his recovering, freaky, zombie-messiah powers that Murphy knew came with major ups and downs, their garbled thoughts clogged his mind for a moment; and with Murphy being solely unprepared for it, caused him to twitch, one hand cupping his head while the pistol hung loosely from the other.

 

He recovered enough to see the guard be thrown out first, as per Garnett's warning, getting devoured by the starved zombies as they piled on top of the dazed man. Right now, even after all the oxycontin to take away any pain, it didn't seem to be doing him much of a favor. His devious smile was now an open mouth screaming out, but the doors closed too quickly for much of the scene to unfold before their eyes.

 

Damn. Missed his opportunity to escape. Murphy hesitated this time, opting not to run past the pile of growling Zs and away from the group screaming for him to come back. He had been scared out of his mind last time, but having more ground and sense about him this time, he hadn't just run out-- which now he felt like a fool for not doing.

 

He found Doc last time, alerting the group after he ran back. This time, he'd have to lead them there, which wasn't bad until he accounted for the fact that he wasn't actually supposed to know where Doc was.

 

But again, Murphy didn't give a shit. The Risen's rules weren't ones he had to abide by. Let the group find out this was there second time around. He had dropped enough clues to let them be suspicious. Wasn't like it would be long before Warren found out somehow, or even he might spill the beans, out of spite to those that ruined his plan for a peaceful, nonviolent world.

 

A world without fear. But like Spokane, Toivo followed the same, disastrous path.

 

"Holy hell." Blake breathed out, clutching her axe like it was her lifeline, her adrenaline rush spiking as her eyes stared at the slick metal walls.

 

"No shit." Mack responded, gun still positioned at the doors like all the others.

 

Addy's Z-Whacker was raised, but her eyes darted around the whole group. "You think that was planned?"

 

Warren grunted, staring at the doors as the guard's screaming died down.

 

"Zombies crowding our only exit?" It was a twinge of sarcasm that left his voice, but none of the group seemed to really care. "Why not?" The General was on the wacko side, proven multiple times. Over the years of Murphy not ever thinking about this place again, he had come to realize that this time around, McCandles was probably the cause of most of the death-traps the group found themselves in here.

 

'You'll be sorry' Yeah, clear as day warning. Planned, proved to them moments before they stepped into the elevator and yet they still blindly believed it. They, as in the group. Murphy refused to incorporate himself, given the number of times he had repeatedly told the group it was a bad idea.

 

"On the General's floor." Warren pointed out, gun aimed towards the doors as they dinged again, opening up to reveal absolutely nothing. No blood from the guard, no guts, no zombies. Just the grey, monotone and poorly designed flat that could only be described as dreary.

 

"Where'd they all go?" Cassandra asked, holding her knife out in front of her, taking cautious steps forward as Garnett and Warren exited the elevator first.

 

"Best guess, " Garnett quickly checked to the left, allowing Warren to check to the right before they both met back in the middle. "Got distracted."

 

Mack shrugged, peering passed the elevator's open doors to look around the horrendous set up that was their surroundings. "And if the General set it up?"

 

"Lured back." Addy finished Mack's thought, briefly sparing him a quick smile that faded due to their current (former? Seeing as how this already happened) predicament.

 

"What does it matter?" Murphy didn't mind speaking up, heading out with Warren and Garnett as the three younger members trialed slightly behind Blake. "We finish what we came up here for. Find Doc and get the hell out of here."

 

There was a moment's pause that followed with Garnett eyeing him with wariness. Right. Still on the Refinery thing. Like Hammond's death was all his fault.

 

But that brief silence turned into the Sergeant nodding, turning his attention away from Murphy and to the rest of the group.

 

"Murphy's right." Finally. "We'll split into teams. Warren and I will take Murphy and Blake."

 

Seriously? Can he ever get a moment's peace without the Risen member by his side constantly? OR for that matter, by any of the group's side?

 

Garnett pointed towards Addy, Mack, and Cassandra regardless of Murphy's dramatic huffs. "You three check around here. Don't go too far away from the elevator. Once we get Doc, I want to get out of here as quick as possible." Garnett nodded towards them once finished, letting the others out of the elevator, each wary as they exited.

 

"Got it." Mack responded out of the three, letting the four of them head off while watching their back from the elevator. However much changed with the new set of plans back there, Murphy hadn't the faintest clue. His main goal was to find Doc and get out of here without any more hassle.

 

The zombies from before were spread around the area, and having his zombie-controlling powers still developing, he was failing to hold them off despite knowing how to. Lack of power rather than knowledge.

 

Resorting to holding off the zombies without making as much noise as possible, they all used hand-held weapons. Blake's axe, Murphy's piece-of-crap throwing knife, Warren's machete, and Garnett's hammers. Despite being effective, it was a pain Murphy hadn't remembered-- if only for the fact that he had run away rather than killed.

 

Still, with his slightly disoriented mental map of where Doc was last time, they had worked their way through the cheaply repaired building with plastic wrap and mats, forcing all his focus on relying on listening for Doc's screams, blocking out the shuffling of zombies before their mercy, or their brain-dead thoughts of the trapped soul.

 

Finally, he heard it; the pounding of something against metal and the calling of help from his friend he had thought was dead last time (and hadn't called a friend until much, much, later on.)

 

"Warren! Help! Somebody!"  The pounding continued as Murphy caught the other's attention, motioning them over towards where he now knew (remembered) Doc was stuck in.

 

"Hey, over here." He whispered out as loud as he could, drawing them over to the shaft Doc had been thrown down into.

 

Warren was first to jog past him, staring down the vent. "Doc? Doc?" She called to get his attention, leaning over just a tad so that she wouldn't fall in. "Doc, you good?"

 

"Warren?!" Doc shouted, his voice relieved but loud enough to draw the other Zs in the surrounding area. "Warren! Is that you?"

 

Warren nodded, despite going unseen by Doc. "Yeah, yeah, we're here." She looked back towards Garnett, before scanning the place around them. "We're gonna get you out, okay? Just…" She trialed off, trying to find anything useful like rope, which Murphy hadn't cared to check beforehand. "Give us a moment."

 

He didn't have to see it to know Doc sighed, dividing between relief and anguish. "Hurry. I don't know how much longer I can stay stuck here." Garnett nodded towards Warren, holstering his hammers and taking out his gun instead for the trek back. "My old man bones are already aching." And yet despite the situation, Doc always looked for some sort of light to joke about.

 

"We'll be back." Warren called down, the game of follow the leader resuming as Warren took the lead this time.

 

Blake faltered by the shaft, staring down it like she knew the dreaded would happen. How she guessed? Probably Murphy's whole demeanor today and cryptic warnings. She patted the metal once, giving a look back towards Murphy to make sure he was following before she resumed heading after Warren.

 

Murphy too, stopped for a moment, calling down towards Doc seeing as how he had been the one to find the older man. Both times, if anything. "Keep hanging, Doc." But, it was never too late to use an opportunity to quip, even if seen as rude and completely unnecessary for the situation.

 

Doc managed to laugh at it though, allowing a smile to grace Murphy's lips as he followed behind the three in front of him. They continued to sneak back to where Addy, Mack, and Cassandra were, hoping that they'd find rope littered around the place in some nook or cranny. Like any other time, even if they had thought all the zombies had been mercied on the way there, they still managed to run into one on the way back.

 

It snarled towards them, jittering with each step it took, as Blake called for Warren to watch out, her being the closet to the zombie. Murphy was quick to bring his gun up, taking a shot to its shoulder as Blake swung her axe at the Z's side, allowing her to hold it in place was Warren placed a bullet through its skull.

 

"Well, lookie here." Warren pushed over the dead's body, as Murphy made his way forward, taking in the sight of the guard all zombified in front of them. Oxycontin will not fix that.

 

Blake pulled her axe from the guard's side just as Garnett cringed, drawing his attention up from the zombie and back towards their previous destination to help Doc. "That's gotta be the last of them."

 

"Better." Blake swung her axe back over her shoulder, gaze trailing around the open floor before lingering steadily on Murphy. "I really don't want to deal with any more of 'em today." Her eyes were glued on Murphy, almost if asking if there were anymore, which…

 

Shit. Yes, there were.

 

Air shaft, explosion, big zombie: One of the reasons they had thought Doc had been blown to smithereens last time.

 

Murphy didn't respond back, only quickening his pace as they headed back towards Mack, Addy, and Cassandra, who were panting from a run back with blood dousing their clothing. Warren was quick to explain the situation, Garnett chiming in, but they were cut short in heading back towards where Doc was as the elevator dinged behind them.

 

What the hell? Murphy didn't remember a zombie coming up the elevator last time.

 

They were all quick to draw their weapons again, turning around towards the now open elevators, but with a quick glance in, there was absolutely nothing there. Mack took a few steps closer, gazing around the entire elevator and up on the ceiling as if expecting one to have mutant spider powers. Or a zombie chandelier.

 

Neither were such a thing, which lined up with Murphy's memories of this place besides the fact that they were yet to meet the big zombie.

 

His thoughts were quickly changed, hearing the thudding from around a wall of plastic wrap, a large shadow being casted around the corner. The group and Blake turned that way, stuck in their positions with their weapons raised as they watched the suitably large Z stumble its way around the corner, almost too humanistic for a zombie.

 

"Is that the injured guy?" Blake asked, gearing up as the zombie came all too close to them.

 

"Wouldn't doubt it." Warren responded back, and for the first time in a while, Murphy didn't really have an answer if it was or not.

 

Garnett took two shots at the zombie's head, one hitting its neck while the other hit directly in its forehead, but it didn't falter, making its way towards them.

 

"What the hell!" Murphy yelled aloud. There were no Mad Zs lurking around at this time. A head shot should've killed it.

 

He tried his luck with Warren as well, firing off as many rounds as he could, but the zombie didn't die. Obviously ammo wasn't on their side, but it had been the grenade that worked, blowing the zombies in to chunks. Huh. Guess they had their first Mad Z sighting practically five years too early.

 

"Stop wasting your ammo! Stop wasting your ammo!" He yelled, eyes trailing to the vent beside the one Doc was located in. If they shoved the zombie into the one shaft instead of the one Doc was in, it would stop the group from thinking Doc was dead. Which, in all honesty, was the only real worry-- disregarding Blake's threat of anything last time could be deadly this time.

 

His warning was left unheard by Mack who drew his .22, deciding shooting closer would do him good. Which, inevitably, didn't help a damn bit. The bullet to the thick-skulled Z only lodged through the skin, barely slowing it down as it grabbed Mack by the neck, lifting him up and off the ground.

 

Blake cursed under her breath from beside him, none of the group firing their weapons in fear that they would hit Mack. Murphy took a shot to the big Z's leg though, getting a quick chastise from Warren that he had almost it Mack. Which was true, but Murphy disregarded it, watching as Blake readied her axe, swinging for the zombie's back when it turned around.

 

The Big Z quickly released Mack, dropping the young man to the floor with a thump as it spun on Blake who's axe was stuck in the zombie's side. "Fricking useless axe." She tried to mumble under her breath, but the zombie lurched forward at her, grabbing onto her hair and pulling her up as she screamed out.

 

Garnett shook his head, running up to the zombie, repeatedly hitting it with his hammers in a vain attempt for it to let Blake go. Murphy made no effort to help release the Risen member, watching to make sure Garnett didn't push a detonated grenade into the shaft with Doc again.

 

"Let go of me! Let go of me!" Blake yelled, trapped in the zombie's death grip around her hair, desperately trying to pull herself and her axe away as Garnett's finger hovered dangerously close to the pin of the grenade.

 

Mack recovered, running back towards where Warren was just as Addy moved forward, stabbing the tip of her Z-Whacker into the zombie's neck, pushing it backwards right towards the vent Doc was in.

 

Why?

 

Murphy was quick to rejoin the fight, trying to get Garnett away from pulling the pin, but it was too late by the time he got there. He didn't even have time to let an exasperated huff leave him, yelling at Addy to push the Big Z down into the air shaft beside Doc this time, and luckily, she complied.

 

Unluckily for Blake, the zombie still had a hold on her.

 

The zombie started to tumble backwards as Garnett and Addy tried to free Blake, trying to yell commands to take cover over Blake's screaming.

 

One, two

 

When Addy started to slip down with Blake, Murphy decided to help to save the red-head, (not the Risen member), helping to pull the four of them down to the ground and away from the explosion.

 

Three, four

 

The racketing explosion finished the job, pushing them all down to the ground with force of impact. Murphy's jaw hit the floor before he could catch himself, causing a whine of pain to escape the his mouth, barely audible to him over the tinnitus ringing in his ears. Addy had just barely missed falling on her Z-Whacker as the dust and debris floated down around them, Garnett falling a little ways away from the vent itself.

 

Once Murphy forced open his eyes again, blinking at the spray of dust, he saw Blake in front of him, covering her ears as her eyes were squeezed shut.

 

Dammit. Her black eyes focused on him, a complete fear showing her vulnerability to him that she had refused to share back with their little 'gun game'. He had been hoping the explosion was how he could get rid of her.

 

The scowl she had before was gone, just a look of relief washed over her face as she picked herself up, pulling Addy to her feet as the red-head clutched onto Blake, saying something along the lines of thinking that she was about to die.

 

No such luck.

 

Once the ringing in his ears died down, and the coughing fits everybody was stuck in slowed, he heard Garnett's voice (a little louder than it should be) speaking over them.

 

"Is everybody okay?"

 

Well, a grenade wasn't shoved down where Doc was, so yeah. Pretty much. Even Blake was alive, which was quite the unfortunate turn of events.

 

"Yeah." Addy breathed back over Mack's coughs, all of them walking closer to one another so that they could be seen inside of the dust cloud and smoke. "Where's Doc at?" She was able to ask after a few moments, releasing from hugging Blake and looking towards him, Warren, and Garnett.

 

Murphy pointed towards the air shaft beside the one Big Z was dropped into, but with the clearing smoke the direction was misinterpreted.

 

"That air shaft?!" Not this time.

 

"No!" Damn smoke. "The one beside it." Murphy clarified, proving his point as he briskly walked over to the one Doc was in, calling out the older man's name, expecting an answer.

 

Expecting and getting are too different things.

 

When none came, Murphy did a double back, looking down the air shaft, and then the one Big Z was thrown into, making sure he didn't just confuse his shafts. Thing was, he didn't.

 

"Doc?!" He yelled again, a new panic rising as he looked back towards Warren and Garnett. "He was in this one. I swear! Right?" He motioned towards Warren, Garnett, and even Blake, hoping for an answer of yes.

 

"Yeah." Garnett started off slowly, pushing past Murphy to look down the shaft. "Doc!" He yelled, but like Murphy, he still didn't receive an answer.

 

"He's not…" Cassandra didn't finish her sentence, staring at the air shaft before looking around the group. "That explosion wouldn't have-"

 

"It shouldn't" Warren confirmed, bunching up with the others, hands on her hips as she shook her head.

 

The relief that had been on Blake's face before was now a pure look of fear, her voice the same as what her face portrayed. "The explosion…it couldn't-- it could've knocked him down, right?" She tried, motioning with her hands towards the vents. "They're right next to each other."

 

Garnett nodded his head, eyes darting back and forth. "It's plausible."

 

The second the words left his mouth, Blake was quick to start again. "I'll go look."

 

The sudden quickness and panic was what Murphy presumed was Blake worrying she had failed her mission yet again. Murphy couldn't even entertain the thought this time. Doc being dead. This early, right after he tried to keep him from getting harmed.

 

Garnett was quick to look back towards Warren with a raised eyebrow, the Lieutenant reciprocating the action that seemed to be an unspoken conversation between the two.

 

"That'll work." Garnett spoke after a moment, pointing between Blake. "Mack, Addy-- you two head with her."

 

"On it." Addy nodded, raising her Z-Whacker to her side as Mack holstered his .22, picking up the gun he had found along the perimeter of the Headquarters a while ago.

 

Whether it be snark, or just the similarity in the situation to a week ago, Murphy couldn't help but make a comment. "Keep a lookout for any cannibals this time." He knew it was too soon by the way Cassandra and Addy flinched, earning him a glare from Blake that hadn't went unnoticed by Warren.

 

She looked between Blake and him, not speaking outright on it, but her gaze said it all. She was catching on. He just had to keep pushing this progress uphill without Blake somehow managing to push it down, crushing him in the process. Seeing as how she had managed to stay off of Warren's radar for nearly three years without large amounts of suspicion, Murphy had to say that was easier said than done.

 

The second Blake, Addy, and Mack disappeared into the elevator, Murphy's brain finally caught up with him. They were still up here which meant Garnett and Warren were still set on getting to the junk chopper up on the roof. Having a brief memory of the series of events, and sorely disliking leaving Blake with Mack and Addy again, Murphy tried his luck in convincing them it was not worth it.

 

Which, utterly in the end, didn't work out seeing as how they were already making their way towards Delusion McCandles.

 

"No disrespect, Madame President, but you're not fit to lead a gang of kindergarteners in a dirt clod war." My God, Murphy knew McCandles was crazy but just seeing it in person; the man sitting on his desk, radio in hand as dead (not all zombified) members of his team were seated stiffly in their seats around the table-- reminded Murphy just how insane the General was.

 

"Let alone this great nation in a moment of grave national peril like we find ourselves in now."

 

Warren and Garnett lead in front of him and Cassandra, the little ammo left in the three of their weapons raised as Cassandra tentatively held the knife out in front of her.

 

Absolute static was received on the General's end, none to Murphy's surprise even with his knowledge of the future. Nor was the bazooka that McCandles raised the moment he had saw them.

 

Between the varying reaction of raising their weapons, holding their hands up in surrender, and calling out with far too many pleas of "hey!" McCandles spoke over them, eyes wide with a look that far surpassed crazy.

 

"I've been waiting for you."

 

And Murphy's been waiting to leave. Only one got their wish, and it always ended up being the unhinged ones.

 

Even with his lack of appropriate memory to this scene, Murphy did remember that the bazooka was a piece of junk as well, much like the rest of the place or the chopper on the roof, so the click that it gave when the General tried to fire at them wasn't as much of a relief as it had been the last time.

 

It clicked again and again as the group lowered their hands, just staring at the man knowing he was delusional but less harmful without his large weapons that were nearly unusable.

 

"Ah, crap." The insane, 'Green Goblin' look that inhibited his eyes and voice beforehand dwindled to what many know as a regular, annoyed person that hadn't just tried to fire a bazooka at four people in an enclosed building. "Nothing works anymore."

 

He set down the bazooka in front of him, taking a seat at the only chair unoccupied. "Nothing." He repeated with a sigh, and Murphy could barely manage to hold back an eyeroll.

 

"What do you people want anyway?" McCandles yelled towards them, Garnett speaking before Murphy could get anything out.

 

"We're on a mission that might just save the human race." Garnett grabbed Murphy by the shoulder, getting a protest as Murphy shoved him off, instead walking beside Garnett like a decent human being and not some package to be set from place to place.

 

"Don't waste your breath, Garnett." Murphy warned under his breath knowing how this would end, but Garnett continued on.

 

"This man has the antibodies in his blood needed to make a zombie vaccine. We've been tasked with getting him to a CDC lab in California. Alive." Garnett finished, sparing a glance towards Murphy, who only raised his hands in defense, watching the General eye him down again.

 

"I'm not lifting up my shirt for him." He knew Garnett wasn't going to make him, but Murphy couldn't help the sarcastic retort that had ensued both times talk about the vaccine in his blood had come up in the past week or so.

 

Garnett seemed unperpetrated from speaking, only shaking his head as an indication that he had heard Murphy. "We came to get your chopper…" His eyes fell on Murphy, looking at his face that Murphy knew protruded veins against dull skin that was peeling. "Before we run out of time."

 

Way to be subtle about it.

 

McCandles hesitated for a long moment, leaving a pregnant pause between them before he laughed. "Well hell, why didn't you say so sooner?"

 

God, now Murphy remembered why this man boiled the last of his nerves.

 

McCandles stood, smiling like an idiot compared to his mood before hand like he had some sort of split personality. Between being a wack-job and delusional in the apocalypse, Murphy wouldn't really doubt it.

 

"I'll fly you there myself."

 

Ah…so far fetched. Murphy couldn't really remember what he had thought last time. He hadn't really…let's just say-- cared about the group to the extent he did this time. The sudden change in personality, accepting all too quickly instantly threw Murphy back to when he actually thought Doc had died. How his friend had died for the piece of shit that the General raved about.

 

It was a seething anger from past and present events that were reoccurring that Murphy could care less what left his mouth.

 

He scoffed, drawing the attention of the General who's glared hardened on him. "What? You don't think I have the capability to fly the fine piece of machinery all the way to California?" McCandles's voice raised to a yell, nearly stomping towards Murphy like he was about to attack.

 

Murphy didn't even flinch, having years of practice dealing with people in the apocalypse, McCandles himself being one of them. The Red Hands, people at Zona, The Man, Estes under the guide of Pandora and all their followers, not to mention the Risen and their members. McCandles was the least of his fears anymore.

 

"You even check it?" Much less fly it. His eyes trialed down to the General's leg that he had limped on when trying to stomp over, allowing Murphy to connect the clues from before that really weren't any relevance now if what happened last time happens again.

 

"Of course I check it." McCandles was quick to shoot a retort back to him, trying to act intimidating but whatever was supposed to make him scary was lost to the insane look in his eyes that made him look ridiculous instead.

 

The General backed off, straightening up as his mood seemed to shift yet again, but Murphy could still see the lingering anger boiling in his eyes. "Let me show you." The General motioned for them to follow, determined to prove his point as Murphy shook his head, following slightly behind Garnett.

 

They started to walk to the back where a set of stairs led up to the roof, but as McCandles limped up, Garnett and Cassandra following slowly behind, Warren moved back towards Murphy, looking up towards him from her side.

 

"You think it's a bust?" It wasn't much of a question by the way she stated it, but Murphy tended to take it that way.

 

"Yeah." He looked down towards Warren, seeing the woman that the apocalypse hadn't yet taken a dramatic toll on her yet. A woman who hadn't yet turned to the Red Hands, who wasn't drained from fights, who wouldn't fathom letting herself be shot in the middle of a battlefield to end it all. This was the Warren he had forgotten, but the one that started it all. This time, he wouldn't let that same effect of the apocalypse happen to her. "You heard what Citizen Z said. He didn't even know if the thing was useable. Plus, he said Mc-wacko over there hasn't even touched it."

 

He shrugged when Warren nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer, but the moment she jogged up the remaining steps and out the door, Murphy wanted to kick himself. Would it have been better to tell her he remembered the events that played out? He wanted to, he had been trying to, but telling her now didn't seem right. From a mile away, he could almost tell that saying "Yeah, cuz I know the future. Trust me, I've been sent back in time to save you all because Little Ginger-head Blake over there managed to kill the rest of you off."

 

What reaction would he get? He doubted it would spark any memory and get him a look that if it were Pre-Z, he would have been sent to a mental asylum straight away. If it were Doc who he told, Murphy was sure he would be asked if he had gotten into the man's stash or was storing something strong enough of his own.

 

So it was just giving hints at the moment until they built up to the grand reveal. Murphy figured it would be a lot easier that way, anyhow.

 

With that thought in mind, he ran up the rest of the stairs, missing the amount of cardio his body could endure before he had been sent back in time. His eyes immediately landed on the piece of junk that McCandles was, again, calling a beauty.

 

"What is this, some kind of joke?" Garnett snapped, voice still slightly calm despite it.

 

The General didn't miss a beat, looking at the chopper that nearly reminded Murphy of the clown car the Bandits had tried to trap them with earlier yesterday.

 

"Sure, she needs a little maintenance. But, with some TLC, a little help scrounging a few spare parts, I'll have you to California in no time."

 

Oh, Murphy remembered this. He remembered the seething anger that boiled over him, and for a moment last time, he hadn't known why. Now, he knew fully why, and he planned to not shy away from it, just like he refused to do last time.

 

"You jackass!" He sneered as Warren put her hand out in front of him, but Murphy pushed past her this time, throwing both Garnett and her hands off of him and wrapping his own around the General's neck.

 

"You threw my friend down an air shaft, and then act like this piece of junk is the saving grace of the apocalypse." His hands curled around the General's neck, cutting any supply of oxygen off as he shook the man. "Then you act like you've been the 'nice guy' this whole time, despite trying  to fire a bazooka at all of us!"

 

Murphy knew he had more strength than he tended to use, courtesy of decapitating two zombie's heads off back in Fort Collins with his ever-freaky zombie enhancements. For his strength, he was being gentle, watching as the General's face went blue and still expecting an answer from McCandles.

 

It took Warren, Garnett, and Cassandra to pry him off of the General, causing McCandles to fall to his knees, holding his throat in a vast attempt to regain oxygen to his lungs. Murphy disregarded the scolding Warren and Garnett were trying to give him as the Sergeant held him back, Cassandra staring at him with wide eyes.

 

The whole situation was different from last time, escalating into dangerous territory rather than simmering down like it had before.

 

'You and Doc were friends?'

 

'We played cards…once.'

 

It had been light, almost, contrasting from the situation that they were in. Addy wasn't up here and Murphy hadn't contained his anger while succumbing to being held back. Like he said before, new circumstance leads to new circumstances, and that's exactly what they're getting.

 

"You…son of a bitch." The General tried to breathe out, unsuccessfully trying to push himself in an attempt to make an attack back at Murphy. "You have no idea what a war is like. Things happen, we do what we have to do to survive. You can't expect everything to be rainbows and sunshine when everyone around you is slowly turning into creatures that spark wars."

 

McCandles heaved himself up on a box, struggling through his rant. "Everyone I've ever known is dead." Not surprising. "All mercied by my hands. If you're so scared about your friend being thrown down an air shaft-- you better recheck what reality you've been living in."

 

'You know I don't like you.'

 

'Well get in line.'

 

Enough of people didn't like him, and even without the General saying it this time, Murphy already knew it.

 

"General McCandles. Sir." Garnett interrupted, voice low but steady ceasing McCandles's rant. "Thank you, " There was no thanks in Garnett's words. "But I think we'll find alternate transportation."

 

His rant didn't continue, but again, the General snapped. "You think I'm insane, don't you?"

 

"Obviously." Murphy was met back with glares, only managing to increase the General's temper to his close breaking point.

 

McCandles's eye twitched, jaw clenching like he was about to yell again, but it dissipated, the man leaning most of his weight onto the box he supported himself on. "Maybe that's true…maybe I have become insane."

 

'The definition of insanity is doing the same exact thing, over and over, and expecting a different result.' McCandles was far past the point of insane, but the General continued to talk.

 

"It's been too much anymore. Deaths, lives lost that were under my control--my command. The whole world that we knew stripped away by those wretched beasts." His one hand flung to the side almost lazily, pushing himself off of the box to look over the edge. "Always the doubt to know that if you could've been better, you could have saved all those lives. It drives you insane. It pushes you off the deep end. All I've seen is death, of good men that were killed in the worst of ways, Pre-Z and now. By humans…zombies."

 

 

The pounding of escaping Zs from the chopper shook them out of listening to the General's rant, but as all the others drew their weapons, Murphy measly stepped to the side, watching the scene play out once again. He gave Warren a tug backwards, getting her out of the zombies' line of sight, closing his eyes in some sort of effort to force the zombies away from them.

 

He had no idea if his abilities worked at this point in time, but he tried, directing them away and towards the General who aimed two guns at a time at the zombies.

 

"Come here you Godless brain eating scum!"

 

He missed every shot to the head, only managing to penetrate the zombies bodies, and Murphy wouldn't lie that he felt his own sting of pain against his chest. He drew himself out from trying to connect with the zombies, snapping his eyes open to watch the General tumble backwards, falling off the side of the building with the two zombies as he yelled.

 

"I'll see you in Hell!"

 

They all ran to the ledge, Murphy going slower than the other three, looking down towards the splattered bodies of McCandles and the two zombies. It was a sight, that was for sure, and one Murphy didn't really want to look at much longer. The motionless, blotches of what the three bodies used to be weren't what had drawn Murphy's eyes away, but instead, the three physical forms that moved around beside it.

 

"What the hell?!" Blake called up to them, cupping her hands over her mouth as Addy poked her Z-Whacker at the used-to-be body of the General.

 

"Is this McCandles?" Addy yelled up, drawing her Z-Whacker back in disgust to the mushed body.

 

Murphy only shook his head, calling back down to them. "Did you find Doc?"

 

Even from the height they were at, he could make out the shake of Addy's head, a pit in his stomach forming as him, Warren, Garnett, and Cassandra rushed down to meet Addy, Mack, and the Risen member.

 

It had taken more time than Murphy had liked to get there, panting in the elevator, not even focusing on the fact that he was back in the death contraption.  He didn't have the energy to run down all those stairs, and by the time the elevator stopped at the first floor, Addy, Mack, and Blake were already there.

 

"You couldn't find Doc?" Garnett asked, the second the doors had creaked open.

 

There was guilt, so much so that it was nearly radiating off of Blake, a mix of sorrow mixed within it as she shook her head.

 

"We looked all around the building. Any exits, off in the corners." Addy listed off, struggling to say the next part. "We even checked all the zombies we could…he just-- wasn't there."

 

"Like he disappeared." Mack added, a mournful expression lining his face like he had already given up.

 

"People just don't disappear." Doc was alive, he knew the man was. He had been last time. There was no way he would be dead now. No way.

 

"Unless their evaporated by a grenade." Mack reminded, his mind set to the unfortunate that Murphy knew wasn't true.

 

"But the grenade didn't explode in the same air shaft." Cassandra was quick to point out, as Garnett butted in, quieter than the others.

 

"He was right next to it."

 

"But not to get evaporated or burned to death!" Murphy refused to believe this was what was going on. He saved Doc from something he shouldn't have needed saving from. The grenade in a different air shaft was a way to not risk exploding Doc, not a way to worry that the older man had been evaporated.

 

Blake shook her head, her eyes once squeezed shut, opening again. "We didn't check the truck." She offered, looking back over the group. "He probably made his way back to where 10K is."

 

There was a silence that stretched between them before Garnett nodded, telling them to start their way back there. They all complied, but as time went by Murphy couldn't tell if time was going by slow, or they were in fear that it would hold off some sort of tragic inevitable.

 

When they got back to the truck parked far enough away from the Headquarters, 10K was alone. The kid was out of the truck (which Murphy couldn't remember if it was different this time) looking at them with furrowed brows.

 

A larger pit formed in Murphy's stomach, not seeing Doc there because it was different this time. Because Doc should be safe and here, but he wasn't.

 

10K backed up some as the group walked towards him, hands trailing along the side of his gun, looking around the group, for presumably, Doc.

 

He let the others pass by him quietly, waiting until the end of the group which consisted of Warren and Murphy, sparing a quick glance back towards the building before stopping Warren.

 

"What happened to Doc?"

 

Murphy kept going, staring out into the field that Doc had stumbled from last time, hoping to see the older man.

 

He heard Warren sigh, going over how to word what they didn't know for sure to the kid. "He didn't make it."

 

10K stared at her for a long moment, mouth barely hanging agape as he blinked like he remembered something he had forgotten. He shut his mouth just as quickly, pulling the rifle to his side and turning away from the rest of them, scanning where Murphy had previously been looking.

 

The reaction was different, Murphy could tell that much. Somehow, Doc and 10K seemed to be closer this time around at this point, rather than they were last time-- which in all honestly was not only impressive but confusing, because nothing Murphy had said would have drawn them closer together.

 

"We don't know that." Blake butted in right after Warren got the words out of her mouth, biting the bottom of her lip.

 

"Blake." Garnett tried to muster as much calmness as he could, setting a hand on her shoulder.

 

"We didn't find him. Doc could still be alive."

 

"You said you checked everywhere." Warren debunked, trying to hide her own grief at the loss of a man, who if Murphy remembered correctly from her memories, she was already close to in Camp Blue Sky.

 

"Yeah but-" Blake was cut off by Addy, the younger woman drawing her attention from the truck to the field.

 

"Guys." She nodded her head over towards the field, taking her eyes off of it to look towards the group. "Zombies."

 

Murphy's head snapped back towards the field, deliberately ignoring 10K's quiet, yet audible, gasp; to instead search for Doc amongst the undead like last time.

 

"Oh, woah, woah." It was Mack who caught it around the time Murphy had seen Doc, covered in guts and brains as he stumbled over towards the group.

 

Murphy let a sigh of relief leave him, focusing as much of his attention on Doc's eyes to make sure they weren't a milky white. When seeing the blue, yet slightly dazed, eyes follow the group, Murphy let himself relax in ease, leaning himself against the truck bed by Warren and 10K.

 

"Oh God, is that…" Mack couldn't even finish the sentence.

 

"Don't tell me that's Doc." Blake shook her head, eyes wide as her mouth hung open. Murphy could see pricks of moisture form at the edge of her eyes that snapped back over towards him, nearly pleading that this was what happened last time.

 

His posture had told her enough, blurring, tear-filled eyes turning into confusion as she tilted her head towards him, and then back to Doc as he struggled to make his way over.

 

"It's Doc." Addy confirmed, her own tears welling into her eyes as Mack sighed, turning his head away from looking.

 

It wasn't a long silence that filled the air, as Murphy got spoken over by Garnett. "Someone's gotta…"

 

No. No they really didn't.

 

"I'll do it." Warren offered, same as last time, moving forward with her pistol raised.

 

"Warren…" Murphy started, being told to shut it in return. He didn't like the fact of letting her aim her gun back at Doc, despite being different circumstances in the same circumstance. Doc was still alive, and even if Warren missed again, which was going to happen, it was just going to be a waste of ammo and a shock to all of them.

 

It was better to curb the situation first, right?

 

He pushed himself off the truck, following Warren a few steps up, getting tilted heads turned in his direction from most of the members of the group.

 

"Warren." He tried again, but Warren just gave him a glare, checking to make sure a bullet was in the chamber, before cocking the gun back, aiming it over towards Doc. After a moment of consideration, Murphy backed down. She wouldn't hurt him, she couldn't because she hadn't last time. In the end, they all laughed, happy to see Doc alive and not a zombie, recounting what happened back in the air shaft.

 

It's fine.

 

Famous last words, right?

 

He took a step back, letting Warren do her thing as she raised the gun towards Doc, most of the others looking away like Mack was. Blake, deviating out of the norm as usual, was staring at Murphy, prying for answer she wasn't going to get, as 10K stared at Doc. Murphy could make out a hint of remorse, almost even a guilt as he briefly closed his eyes to look away, but it was quelled with a look Murphy could only describe as remembrance. However the hell that was possible, Murphy wasn't sure, but he chalked it up to perceiving 10K's look wrong.

 

"Steven 'Doc' Beck." She raised her gun as Murphy stood just behind her, glancing between her and the spot on the ground next to Doc that he was sure she would hit.

 

"I give you mercy."

 

He saw it. He saw it before he could stop it.

 

Warren's hands weren't as shaky as they had been the last time. Her line of fire hadn't been as jagged. It was a direct hit, he could tell it would be, right to Doc's skull, but he had been too slow to physically stop her.

 

"Warren!" It was all he could do, shouting out her name in hopes that it would distract her. That she would stop, look over towards him, listen to him that Doc was alive and fine-- only covered in zombie guts.

 

No such thing happened, and it was like slow motion after that.

 

The words left his mouth about the time Warren's finger hit the trigger. Murphy was too far away from her, and any act of pushing her forward from where he was could potentially result in it being Warren's mercy rather than Doc's. He hadn't been able to prevent it in time.

 

Not him, but someone else had.

 

10K was right next to Warren, getting the gist of Murphy's warning, he had been quick to push her arms to the side, making Warren fire the pistol in the spot she was supposed to last time. The bullet caused Doc to jump, but not get hit, and despite the confused looks that had been thrown at Murphy and 10K, everything repeated like it did the first time.

 

"What the hell, Warren? You trying to kill me?"

 

"You're alive?"

 

"Damn straight I'm alive."

 

It was the same. The same but different because Warren had come this close to actually killing Doc this time. If it hadn't been for Murphy's warning, or 10K's intervention, Doc would have been given a death far before he was supposed to.

 

What in the living hell? Why would that even happen? Why would Warren be able to get a straight shot this time, but last time it had been a lucky miss? What sort of cruel fate had this universe planned for them to suffer through?

 

Blake said anything is dangerous to the group this time. Anything, but the problem was, most of this wasn't even a new occurrence for them. Doc had been in the shaft, survived the explosion, and Warren had missed when trying to give him mercy. That wasn't new. Hammond had died when he had been in a place that was new to him, specifically.

 

How could something that wasn't lethal last time be changed so dramatically this time?

 

The others were laughing around him, smiling in joy like all was well and fine, but it wasn't. It was far from fine, but everything continued on like it was.

 

"We thought you were dead." Garnett called, relief mixed within a bubbling laugh.

 

"Well so did I." Doc nodded back, eyes wide, still in shock. "You promised you'd come back, and the next thing I know, a grenade goes off in the air shaft beside me." He threw his hands up, brains falling from his hands as he looked down towards the residual falling pieces. "Managed to land on a pile of mercied zombie bodies as a nice cushion afterwards."

 

It was only more laughing after that, and Murphy didn't really have the capacity at the moment to think whether or not that was a play torn out of Murphy's old book back with the bounty hunters in Cheyenne. Except Doc's was mercied while Murphy's was a pit of live zombies.

 

"Well hurry up." Addy had called as Warren tossed Doc a wrap, getting the same comment of, "Give me a kiss, baby." with open arms, all like Murphy remembered it.

 

Except through the laughing and the smiles, Murphy was still stuck on his 'what the hell just happened?' because none of that was right. None of that happened.

 

Warren had missed. She had and it should have happened. But it didn't. It didn't happen and that's what worried Murphy the most because if Warren not missing her shot was that drastic of a change, how much more had Murphy and Blake changed without knowing. What if it hadn't been them that changed it, because what would Murphy have to say to keep Warren from keeping her hands steady? What had he done for her to get a perfect shot?

 

Nothing, and that was the problem. Doc almost died, and it had been by chance, not by change.

 

At least, from Murphy's end.

 

--- line break---

 

Blake's POV:

 

Doc was alive. He had come so close to getting shot, but he was alive. From the air shaft, to the explosion, to the fall, to the bullet. If it wasn't luck that kept Doc alive, it had to be something supernatural.

 

The hippie had started to wipe himself off at the truck, going on a rant despite the giggles and laughs that the members of Operation Bitemark couldn't contain. Seeing them all happy, all alive and together, caused her own smile to form on her face. She wouldn't let it come that close again. Even if she had to beat Murphy for answers on what was going to happen, she'd make sure she would do whatever she could to keep them alive.

 

To give them a happy ending they deserved.

 

She had taken a step forward to join in on the lively conversation, but instead of her own voice intermingling with the group's, she was met with her cry of surprise, being dragged backwards and away from the group. It wasn't until she was dragged a fair distance away that she had been able to get her capturer to release his grip, coming nearly face to face with none other than Murphy.

 

He was near a seething point, a confusion laced within the burning flames as he glared at her, one hand motioning towards the group.

 

"What the hell was that?" His eyes never left her, lest his hands curled together.

 

"What the hell was what?" She echoed back in her own question, letting her eyes trial over to the group when his didn't.

 

She had a theory on what he was asking, but she liked to make him work for it, just like he liked to hang answers above her head.

 

"Don't play dumb." It was all bite and bark in his voice, "That didn't happen last time."

 

So Warren hadn't fired at Doc last time? Blake supposed that made sense, watching as Murphy had tried to get her to stop, but that didn't explain why he backed off last minute if he knew she could easily kill Doc. Even in the short distance, Blake knew even she had a fair chance at at least hitting him. Warren was a good-shot, Blake knew that much. In that distance, if there was no interfering, Warren would have gotten it in one go.

 

"Warren shooting?" She asked, just to get her facts straight, but it only annoyed Murphy more.

 

"No. Her hitting." It was back to that voice like he was talking to a child, and it always grated on every one of her nerves. "She missed last time."

 

Really? It had changed from Warren missing to Warren actually about to hit right where she intended.

 

"Shit." She couldn't help but mumble out, running a hand through her thin hair. Blake knew changes like this were expected, but coming this close to one, after already worrying that they had actually lost Doc to begin with? No, Blake didn't even want to go through that.

 

"Yeah." Murphy nodded along with her, shaking his head. "What did you do?"

 

He's pinning this on her. Of course he's pinning this on her.

 

"What did I do? I didn't do a damn thing to purposely change it that way." She tried to calm her rising anger, knowing that it satisfied Murphy to some degree.

 

"And yet it still happened."

 

Of course it still happened, you jackass. She shook her head, curling her fists into balls to keep herself in line.

 

"Did you not listen to anything I told you?" She had told him in Philly, right before all the chaos started, exactly what time travel entitled. He listened because he responded with smart-ass comments, but at times like these, Blake wondered if she could be too sure with the Dictator.

 

Murphy shrugged, the fire slowly dying in his eyes, but never fully going away. At least, when he was around her. "No, most times I tend to block you out."

 

"Of course you do."

 

She let out a sigh, setting her hands on her hips as she stared back towards the group. Doc had gotten most of the zombie guts off as Mack and Addy took out the few Zs attracted to the meat and blood that Doc was shedding. Cassandra and 10K had already hopped back into the truck bed as the girl talked with Doc, and 10K sniped the few Zs farther from Addy.

 

Warren and Garnett were by each other, their smiles fading as they seemed to be talking in hushed whispers. Warren every now and then sending a glance her and Murphy's way.

 

Blake pushed that to the back of her mind for now, having to come up with an excuse later as she turned back towards Murphy.

 

"Whatever we do now, whatever we changed, it always affects everything that will happen." She didn't have much knowledge other than what she was told, going off the basis of short, preformed experiments, and notes of what will happen or is thought to happen. "Just being back here, we've managed to change a lot. The year we got before Pre-Z, or even the three years in the apocalypse we've lived through now-- any action we've taken continues to change what we used to remember."

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Anything and everything is dangerous anymore. I got the gist of that." Murphy brushed her off, waving his hand briefly in front of her face as if it would stop her from talking.

 

Blake couldn't help as a smirked lined her face. "So you have been listening." The tease was more of a jab, but it wasn't intended to be a playful one.

 

Murphy only rolled his eyes, not pressing the matter further into a debate like Blake expected.  "Doesn't explain why Warren suddenly was able to get the shot."

 

Which, in some aspects, was true. That was Warren's own mental battle. Spending nearly three years with the group in Camp Blue Sky proved to her that they really were like a little family. Warren was close to Doc, whether that be friends or brother-sister dynamic, Blake wasn't really able to tell. They cared for each other, but then again, they all cared about one another. It was a tight-knit circle of keeping those you love safe from the horrors of the apocalypse that they all had to experience.

 

Why something Blake or Murphy changed would change Warren's perspective on if she would be able to pull the trigger and miss or not wasn't what Blake was trying to explain. It was what they said or did that affected Warren. Or for that matter, anything.

 

"It does." Blake wasn't much into science of the human brain, and she was as well informed of time travel as she could be, but she tried her best to get her point across. "Anything we say or we do, it has consequences. It affects our circumstances, yes, but also the people. Think of it…like--" Blake struggled for words for a moment, snapping her fingers to get an idea.

 

"Think of it as the ripple effect. It doesn't take much to put a ripple in the water. Even a little stone can span over a larger radius." Blake sighed, clasping her hands together as Murphy motioned her to get to the point. "Thing is, anything we do or have said-- no matter how long ago it was, can change this life entirely from what we remember of the past life."

 

"Wait. 'Past life'?" Murphy interrupted her, holding up his hands to get her to stop. She nodded in return, only causing more of his confusion to rise. "We have knowledge of the future to change the past. That's how time travel works."

 

"Yes." God, she was so tired of this because even she had a hard time fully comprehending it. "But our knowledge of the 'future' isn't actually our future anymore. I get I'm doing a shitty job explaining this-- just stick with me. What we remember as the future, isn't our future anymore. It's the past life. Warren missing Doc, any of that, it happened last time. With the ripple effect, or the butterfly effect, or whatever-- we've changed it. Any little detail, any big thing we do, it affects more than that one moment, Murphy. Do you understand that?"

 

Murphy looked as if he was in a daze for a moment, staring at her like she was brain-dead before shaking himself out of it.

 

"I got a question for you." He waited a moment, letting her roll her eyes as she gave him the go-ahead. "You ever try this before? Any of your halfwit rebellion actually go back in time to change something, or are we just the guinea pigs?"

 

Blake sighed. Logically speaking, they were the first to actually go far back in time and stay there for a large amount of time. Or, at least, consciously. Considering the fact that she had papers from the past life on her, it meant that the Risen was also able to send back physical items as well as a person's own conscious.

 

Physically, you could send yourself back in time in your regular body, but that just met that two of you are in the same time period, and Blake could care less on that fact when she was in the midst of the zombie apocalypse. The only things that mattered to be sent back physically from the future was Sun Mei's notes, plans on where the Time Machine is, and the actual working Time Machine.

 

Consciously, there was really only one other person besides Blake and Murphy.

 

"We had a guy go back in time five minutes, eat an apple that hadn't been eaten, and kept him in that time frame. Reality hadn't collapsed, so the Leaders took that as the go ahead."

 

And unlike the brain-dead look, a dumbfounded look was on his face.

 

"You're joking."

 

 She wasn't, and that got what something between an insane and disbelieving laugh from Murphy.

 

"Five minutes, and then they send us back almost thirteen years." He wagged his finger in front of her face before Blake pushed it down. "See, how is that not proof that your rebellion is demented?"

 

"I don't need proof, Murphy. I know they're unstable." She hissed back at him, clenching her jaw as her nostrils flared. "Why do you think I took the chance to go back in time. I've been trying to prevent all the shit that's going to happen." He shook his head, looking away from her, and it only spiked Blake's anger. "I don't know about you, but I wanna see the group live this time. I told you once, and I'll tell you again, I need your cooperation. Not for me, but for them."

 

She emphasized, throwing her hands back over towards the group. "Operation Bitemark, Warren, Doc…Lucy." Murphy's eyes were like piercing daggers when she said the last name, but Blake took that into her advantage. "To save them, we have to work together. I don't give a shit if you hate me, or if I hate you. I told you, this isn't about us. This is about this life. Their future. Your daughter's future."

 

Murphy spared a glance back towards the group, watching them for a long moment before turning back to her, a scowl across his face as he pointed his finger directly at her chest. "Whatever you do, if you lay a hand on Lucy, being a Blend or getting your mercy isn't the worst that I'd make sure happened to you."

 

With his threat, she nodded. She didn't want to harm Lucy. Jackson wanted her to use Murphy's daughter as a prize above his head, not a hostage for ransom. Her goal was to save them, not harm them.

 

But the conversation was done after that, and being far away from the group for that long had drawn suspicion, more than Blake would've liked, but it dwindled some as she hopped back into the truck bed with 10K, Doc, and Cassandra, watching as Murphy hustled into the door behind the driver's.

 

Warren hopped into the seat in front of him, Garnett taking the passenger's as Addy stood by the door behind Garnett, letting Mack in first as a slow song cut on the radio and Simon's voice overlapped it.

 

"Here's a song for all the lonely people out there, which is just about everybody that's left. So, if you've got somebody to go through the Apocalypse with, you better watch their backs. Cuz there ain't many of us left…And oh yeah-- I'd like to dedicate this song to Addison Carver, wherever you are."

 

Blake nearly choked on her own breath, holding in a laugh, watching as Addy turned towards Mack in surprise, Mack only smiling back at her.

 

God, so this is what Simon used to be like.

 

"I talked to the guy twice. Come on." Addy defended, climbing into the truck as Warren started the engine, slowly making her way down the road. Blake didn't have the capacity to write in her log at the moment, mindlessly listening to Doc chat about getting a zombie stoned in the air shaft, and it being totally trippy.

 

The music filtered in when the conversation stopped, leaving a dread-silence overcome those that were in the truck bed, letting their thoughts race where they didn't want. Blake drew herself out of it, if only for Doc's voice.

 

"You know kid," 10K kept his head down, eye darting between Doc and his lap as his hand mindlessly ran along the dirty brown scarf he was wearing. Doc continued anyway. "I've been thinking about what you told me about your dad…" Doc paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "and how you wished he knew that you did the right thing, "

 

10K finally drew his head up, looking solely towards Doc as the older man continued. "-giving him mercy like you promised."

 

"Yeah." The boy finally spoke, undistinguishable in telling how he really felt with the simple one-word sentence.

 

Doc hesitated for a second, patting 10K's shoulder as he leaned forwards. Noticing it was a personal conversation, Blake looked away as Doc lowered his voice, gentle as he always was. "Well I just want you to know…your dad knows what you did for him." Doc's hand clasped the back of 10K's neck, a gentle reassurance to what was hard to even comprehend. "And he knows you did the right thing. You kept your promise."

 

Blake didn't have to look up to know that 10K nodded, drawing his head back down to look at his lap with a soft "thanks." Ending the conversation as Doc gave him a kind pat on the back like any father would do to their son.

 

But even after the sentimental ending to the conversation, 10K looked like he was drawn back into his thoughts. Whether they be good or bad, the one who was thinking them was the only one to know.

 

A mind that could be transported back in time, controlled as a Blend, or remain the only thing to keep a zombie or a Talker alive; a person who was insane or observant, the mind was sometimes the hardest to comprehend.

Notes:

Annnd scene. That was a roller coaster, but I wouldn't say as much as Philly Feast Remake (Part Three). I'm so sorry about the beginning flashback with 10K though. The scarf as well. I have a thing for turning random items into things with sentimental values.

Anyhow, something I noticed about Z-Nation's apocalypse shown in "Crisis of Faith" episode 8 of season four, the group had opened a casket of this one guy. I'm pretty sure he had been buried long before the apocalypse began, so his corpse had been buried as essentially a dead human. HOWEVER, the second it had been exposed to air, it had reanimated into a zombie. So, as freaky as it is, you could have died 50 years before the Zombie Apocalypse began, but the second your body is exposed to the ZN1 virus, you will turn. I mean, logically speaking, you'd be decaying as your hair, and nails grew and turning to dust after the oxygen is depleted out of the casket, but that set aside for movie magic, let's just say that's not the main point.

Hope you guys are staying safe!! Wishing you all the best.

Coming Soon:
Reappearing Faces

Chapter 18: Reappearing Faces

Summary:

The group makes a detour to a specified camp that could be of help to transport Murphy to California. Without any knowledge on where they are being led, Murphy and Blake meet with faces from the Past Life that they are none-too-pleased to see. All the while, Simon struggles to find out who the group really is and why he knows them.

Notes:

Sorry for taking so long. Didn't want to post anything bad. UPDATES WILL BE SLOWER. By the way, Murphy's interaction (platonic) was a recommendation from doctor_bog to see 10K and Murphy interact with one another. I figured since it wasn't my original idea, it is better to give credit where it is due.

Simon's POV:

 

Getting a slightly wacky aerial view of the group back at the Emergency Headquarters for Infection Control had been a roller-coaster at trying to figure out what was happening. Simon got as far as Murphy, Warren, Garnett, and the girl who he assumed was Cassandra, heading to the roof with General McCandles. Anything after that just…well, cut off. In all aspects, it had been more than a simple 'cut-off' but as of now, Simon still hadn't deduced what exactly caused his sights on the group to be knocked-off.

 

Simon was good at locating problems, don't get him wrong, but this time hadn't been so much in his luck. As far as he could tell, it had been a physical attack towards what he was viewing on, which of course, entitled nature, but Simon couldn't shake the feeling that it had been a purposeful attack from actual humans.

 

He did some digging, searching around to make sure, just in case his theories were true. He hadn't found anything, and being the great hacker he was, and working at the NSA for God's sake, he hadn't found anything cybernetically nor physically wrong that had led him any closer to finding the damaged drone being purposefully attacked.

 

Still, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

 

With his aerial view cut short, Simon resorted to working cameras on the ground, but as per usual in the zombie apocalypse; and mainly beside General McCandles building, nothing worked. The only camera he had gotten any sort of view from was the one above the door, but Simon found no point looking when none of Delta-Xray were standing there.

 

And when some horde of Zs made their way in front of it, it was kind of a bump in his plans on getting anywhere with watching them.

 

So, Simon had just hoped for the best, waiting for the group to contact him back. Which, as Simon glumly expected, never came. There were no Clowny the French Fry Guy signals. No spikes. No nothing. Simon couldn't help but admit he was thoroughly disappointed, but he blamed that on his lack of human attention.

 

He craved to be in the presence of another living human being, but that never came.

 

Simon would think about it sometimes. About a beautiful woman with straight black hair falling down her shoulders and bangs covering most of her forehead. He could never see her face, but he could hear her laugh. Almost feel her smile or her kiss…

 

But it was only dreams. Little fantasies of being with someone, having a family, taking care of a child together. It was all things he wanted, but knew for the apocalypse, it was a far, far dream to ever reach.

 

Which is why he's been spending most of his time with Pup. The husky seems to understand him; when he's jolly and happy, or down in the depths, Pup always lays his furry head on his lap or licks his face to bring his mood up. It's the best friend that Simon had always wished for, and he promised he would never let anything take away the only living thing he's come across for practically a year now.

 

Simon swirled in his chair round and around in circles, his head becoming dizzy from the nauseous effort. He didn't stop though, continuing on as the swirls drew out into a length of boredom, pushing down his desire for any sort of human attention.

 

His head lolled down to his shoulder, huffing out a sigh as he disregarded his monitors constant bleeps to the zombie dogs that lurked outside. He had never gotten the chance to mercy them-- too inclined to keep him and Pup safe, hoping to warm his best friend up. He figured the zombies could wait, or maybe they would freeze under the piling snow and frigid weather.

 

That hadn't happened though, and Simon was debating on how long he could let the zombie animals prowl the area.

 

Not yet.

 

He didn't want to risk letting one in or hurting Pup. Simon couldn't lose him, he wouldn't, so he deliberately disregarded his attention away from that screen, and to the one with his conversation with Addy.

 

Or, really, himself, but that just ruins the illusion he liked to immerse himself in. He had been talking some to her again, their latest conversation ending on how brave she thought he was, and smart, funny, and cute, before giving a final goodbye and a talk to you soon.

 

He smiled towards the screen, a smile that didn't really meet his eyes, hands going to type again towards her, but he pulled back just before he could reach the keys. Not because of how hopelessly sad it was, no, Simon tended to veer away from that. It wasn't because it wasn't really Addy that he was talking to. He loved chatting with his red-haired tomato, really he did, but there was something so weird about it. Something so, continuous. Like he had done this before. Chatted with her in another life.

 

Simon shook it off, looking back towards her gorgeous profile picture. Her dyed red hair swaying down her shoulder as she held her phone above her head-- the lighting hitting her face just right that the filter she used casted an angel like glow. Every time he would look at it, it was a reminder of something he had long forgotten. Something to tell him it was there, but too far away to read. He really needed to stop watching those reruns of Déjà Vu. It was really starting to get to him.

 

There was still that lingering curiosity though, both towards Addy and the rest of Delta-Xray. Murphy, of course, minorly excluded. He had done enough research on the man in the interval of a year that it was basically like the Package's-- shit-- Murphy's life was displayed out in front of him like some type of hyper-fixated fan to a movie star.

 

The rest of the group though, he was intrigued to find out more, and he refused to say that his conversation with Addison Carver seemed only one-sided when he had yet to know much about her. That wasn't the case. Well…wasn't really the case, Simon supposed.

 

The major case was, he had this lingering feeling with most of them that he couldn't shake. They were familiar, yet unknown. When he had seen the distorted faces on the monitor a day or so ago, it had been like he had seen them nearly every day of his life. So familiar, but not, and it was so irritating that he couldn't figure it out.

 

So, of course, with the internet right below his fingers, he had made it his goal to find out in the meantime as he waited for the Delta-Xray to respond back.

 

He pushed his chair back, drawing his eyes away from Addy's profile to spin halfway around, letting his eyes land on Pup who was meandering his way around the main data center Simon spent most of his time in. A small smile crossed Simon's face, watching as Pup's nose trailed along the ground, his newfound husky friend becoming accommodated to the new scene faster than Simon expected.

 

"You think we'll find them today, Pup?" Simon knew the answer, despite the faux optimism that reached his voice. Delta-Xray was a tricky group of survivors to get ahold of. It was usually them that contacted him, rather than him finding them beforehand. It was frustrating to say the least, to be in constant worry at whether or not Murphy was in good care. That they were good people trying to do the right thing to bring the cure to the rest of the world.

 

Simon hoped, but he didn't know for sure. Thus, where his researching plan was about to come in handy.

 

Pup let out a whine, mouth craning towards the ceiling before his head plopped down on the ground-- seconds before his body had, letting out an anticlimactic sigh to finish off. Pup's eyes traveled up towards Simon's, whose quiet giggled huffs reverberated through his body, shaking his head as he turned back to the screens.

 

"Yeah, didn't think so either." He admitted, shamefully aware that neither admitting it aloud had much effect on who he was admitting it to, nor the situation he was admitting. Even with all his uneventful looking towards the dying world crumbling apart as the days droned by, or Simon's glitching vision to further show him that young or old, the world was unjust to all but just in its punishment to everyone-- Simon was losing hope on keeping Delta-Xray constantly in his view.

 

As far as he could tell, after Delta-Xray left the Emergency Headquarters, they could've headed south to Virginia, west to Kentucky, or north through Ohio, and that wasn't even counting backtracks, zombie hoards, and the other amounts of delays that Simon never experienced but had heard a hell of a lot of complaining about.

 

Finding them right there and then was a no-go, as far as Simon could tell. After he had woken up from an uneventful, dreamless nap, he had put in hours of searching from his eye above the world, but even being one that could look upon those who struggled through the apocalypse, Simon was not omniscient.

 

At least, less omniscient than he had been four years ago. Déjà vu and glitches being a brash reminder.

 

So, without an ounce of luck in his searching over the desolated land that once was called the United States of America, he had taken to investigating who exactly the cure had been passed down to and left in the hands of.

 

His initial idea, the gleaming picture of Addy's beautiful and yet innocently unperpetrated smile to the horrors she would have to live through in the years to come, Simon had wanted to research Addy to begin with. That idea however, had fallen short when he remembered she wasn't necessarily the proclaimed leader of the small group, nor was she the only.

 

With that, Sergeant Charles Garnett had been his first go-to. He had done a little digging on the man before directing them to General McCandles, but he hadn't run a biometric scan, nor had he really gone too deep. Other than the basics of being a Sergeant for the National Guard, and the (or one) of the leaders in possession of Murphy, Simon had yet to go as far as that.

 

"It's not stalking if I'm just making sure they're good people, right?" He asked over his shoulder, fingers gently tapping down on the keys. He didn't expect an answer other than the whine Pup let out to being bothered yet again by Simon's endless, one-sided conversations.

 

"Yeah, you're probably right." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, running it along the inside of his cheek that he substituted over his nervous habit of biting his lip. 

 

It wasn't really stalking. Besides, it was the apocalypse after all. There wasn't much he could do with what he found. If he found their address, family members, life-oriented purposes that had been buried deep and stored away for others not to see-- It wasn't like Simon could do anything with it besides understand who he was dealing with.

 

Regardless, if he wasn't a creep for pretending to message one Addison Carver like they had a secret crush they were pining each other over with, than he wasn't a stalker when looking into their Pre-Z lives.

 

With that in mind, Garnett had been his first to do a biometric scan on, being able to freeze an image from their latest conversation on Clowny the French Fry Guy. It was still glitchy--not by Simon's odd visions, but by the screen's wonky break-ups. He kept the still image though, if only for the sake that it had the whole group in his view, and was an easy read for the biometric scans.

 

Garnett was right at the front, and Simon figured he'd just work his way back from there. The computer was quick to pick up on Garnett's face, redirecting him to general information on the man that Simon had previously run through.

 

Stationed in Georgia. Born November 11th, 1971. He was ranked as a Sergeant in the files, and of course with where he was stationed, Garnett had lived a couple miles away from Marietta with a wife and three children. There hadn't been much on the man's track record. No crimes committed, no time in jail. He seemed to be the upright kind of man, one that was good but tough. Badass in a sense, especially if you could live this long in the apocalypse and not get eaten or go mentally insane.

 

There were pictures of his wife, Amy, holding a pre-teen girl, brown hair curled in pigtails and bright blue squared glasses that all but fell of her face. She was curled into her mother's side, overalls frumpy against Amy's floral dress, but neither seemed to pay much mind to it. An older, just teenaged boy stood to Amy's side. Strands of dark brown hair lazily hanging down his acne covered face.

 

"Oof. Those were the days." Simon couldn't help but reminisce, staring at the scrawny teenager covered in pimples and growing a failed attempt at a mustache that was blatantly noticeable. "Back in high school, everybody looked like a boil-covered kid with too high of voice cracks." He turned his head back towards Pup, earning the husky's curiosity for him to continue.

 

But Simon just let a sigh leave him, deflating as he turned back towards the picture. "Those were the days when teenagers just had to worry about getting anything under a C+ and survive school bullies." He briefly let himself look towards Pup, feeling his own sympathy towards what the apocalypse wrought. "Not worry about getting eaten by cannibalistic beasts 24/7."

 

He let his attention fall back to the photo, letting his eyes trail over towards Garnett, eyes crinkled as he stood behind the teen boy. One arm resting on his son's shoulder as the other supported a tiny toddler in the other. The youngest of the clan was everything but glum. There was a spark of joy radiating off of him even if it was just a picture. Large brown eyes getting cut off by his short hair that gently curled down his forehead.

 

All of the members were smiling, each one meeting their eyes in a way Simon always imagined a 'big, happy family'.

 

He scrolled down to the date posted on the Facebook photo, seeing it was only taken a few months before all hell broke loose. There was a caption above it, posted under Amy Garnett's name.

 

" 'We're all heading out to get some ice-cream with Jackie, Jasper, and Nash. Can't believe this is the first time our little bundle of joy is going to try some.' " A faint smile ghosted Simon's lips, thinking about all the fun and joys becoming a parent entitled before the zombie apocalypse started.  " ' Wish me and Charlie luck in taking care of these little sugar-high hellions afterwards.' Guess that comes with the parent title, eh Pup? " Simon couldn't help but laugh out, his giggles dying as Pup circled the room as if he was looking for something missing that Simon didn't know.

 

He ignored it, a sense of dread building up to think that Amy, Jackie, Jasper, and Nash hadn't made it past the apocalypse. He couldn't tell, because for some reason his glitches didn't work on photos, or supposedly mirrors as well. To keep from the rising sadness climbing up his chest, Simon quickly clicked off, looking over towards the next person in line: Lieutenant Roberta Warren.

 

Unlike Garnett's, hers was simple and to the point. There was little about her home life growing up. Born October 2nd, 1974 in a large family and with being the oldest, Simon supposed a lot of work and leadership fell on her shoulders at a young age. Simon was an only child, so the idea was lost on him, but he could only assume. She joined the National Guard shortly after leaving home, taking a few classes on the side that Simon knew had no bearing due to the apocalypse.

 

She married a man named Antoine three years before the apocalypse, moving to some neighborhood in Missouri. They seemed like a happy family, just the two of them. With one working a full-time job as a firefighter and Warren in the National Guard, he was sure the precedents of a family being built up had been debated over, but Simon had no place to judge if it was due to complications with jobs and such, or simply because they didn't want to. Either Simon could bode with, and with the apocalypse coming into fruition so suddenly afterwards, he was inwardly glad they made the call. Whatever be the reason.

 

It was better to not risk the fact that a three-year-old child (your own child, too young to even comprehend much of the world) get brutally thrown into a world filled with the undead.

 

Next in line was, of course, the gorgeous, pure Addison Carver. Her face was frozen in the image, eyebrows drawn together as her dreadlocked hair fell down either side of her shoulders. Simon would admit it once, and admit ten more times after that--she always looked like a model, even in this zombie apocalypse hell where beauty had no bearing in the world.

 

The biometric scan was quick to pick up her features, redirecting him towards a plethora of sites she had accessed Pre-Z. He had went through a few of them earlier today, but not enough to get a complete backstory, nor enough information to fully carry on their lovely conversation.

 

Plowing through the sites, he was able to get an idea of who she was. First child of Sheryl and David Carver--born on May 18th, 1993. Addy had a younger brother, Michael, who Simon assumed must have been near eleven by the time the apocalypse rolled around.

 

He had gathered enough information to deduce Addy had been into art from a young age-- if the amount of pictures Mrs. Carver posted were anything to go by. It wasn't much of a surprise to learn that Addy had been enrolled as an art student in Albany, New York-- where inconsequently, she had also lived with her mother and brother. A sad truth for families Pre-Z, and Simon assumed now, was that they were never perfect. The details hadn't been publicly stated, but as far as Simon could tell, David Carver didn't seem like he was around much in Addy's life.

 

Never a simple thing to comprehend, but a sad truth of life when it comes down to it.

 

Beside Addy had been the man, Thompson. Every time he had looked towards the blurry image of the man, he couldn't help but feel a pinch in his heart, a feeling that made him hold a disdain towards the younger man. It wasn't envy. Or at least, he didn't believe it was. What would he have to be envious of Thompson from? He barely knew the man after all.

 

Still, there was no harm in checking. Like the previous few times, it was easy to pick up the image's details and track down the information he needed from there. The biometric scan pulled up enough information to get Simon by, but unlike Addy's, there wasn't many social media platforms that Mack Thompson was on.

 

"Not a very popular guy, huh?" He tapped his finger against his chin, mumbling under his breath. It wouldn’t be very hard to get information on Thompson. For Simon, at least, it wouldn't be a problem. He had worked with little a lot of times to uncover bigger pictures. Now wasn't his first rodeo.

 

The more Simon had dug into Mack's life, the more he started to feel bad for the guy. The covered envy that he refused to admit dwindled quickly into a tone of sympathy as he pieced the parts of Mack's life together. He had been born June 9th, 1992, but there was no record of who his parents were. Supposedly, Mack had been in and out of foster homes up until he was 18, never getting adopted by reasons that remained unknown. Living in Washington, Thompson had joined the Tri-City Americans Hockey Team (which Simon assumed could help some in the apocalypse if he had to cut Mack any slack), the teams last game being in New York before the Zombies infiltrated the world.

 

With a decsion that was already stated in Simon's mind, he had moved off of Mack's personal life, skipping past Murphy's (a year of researching Alvin Murphy had already been completed when Simon was on a coffee kick after being left alone) he moved to scan Steven Beck instead.

 

The older man was slightly behind the others, resting on the truck bed's tailgate as he looked towards the camera. Simon was able to zoom the image closer, letting the scan do the rest of the work as it pulled up the needed information Simon was looking for. The second the picture of Steven had pulled up; brass rimmed glasses tucked behind pulled back white hair, Simon couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath.

 

Sure, he had guessed Steven had been a member of Delta-Xray long before he had any data, and yeah okay, seeing Steven there on the truck had already come as a surprise, but being correct based off of a whim of few details was incredibly hard to process. He flexed his fingers, staring at the photo for a long moment before pulling his attention back towards Pup.

 

"He look familiar to you at all?" Simon pointed over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow as if he was waiting for Pup to respond. Which, of course, Simon knew wasn't going to happen, but crazier things have happened, right? The picture blown up in a full image taking over his screen was more than enough evidence to prove it.

 

Pup's head tilted to the side, but no indication was given otherwise. He didn't even look at the photo.

 

He shook his head, a mix between a scoff and a laugh escaping his mouth as he looked farther into who Steven was. "Of course he doesn't. You're a dog." Pup let out a whine, almost as if he had been offended, and Simon quickly backtracked his statement, reassuring Pup that being a dog didn't mean he thought he was stupid. Not really, anyways.

 

Steven's life was pretty easy to uncover. Born April 20th, 1969 (an unfortunate date that Simon couldn't help but try and stifle a laugh at) he had taken up many jobs through the applications Simon saw. Around 19 years old, he had served as a Navy Seaman, later taking a job as an Addiction Counselor. One thing, that as far as Simon could pick up, Steven had been trying to overcome. Being an addict, that is, but his profession gave Simon a clue as to why "Doc" was a name he started to label the man by.

 

Besides that, there was a little information about Steven having a child, but the custody of said child had been given to the mother, after all the legal troubles had been sorted out. Anything after that, Simon had yet to discover, and seeing as how the apocalypse started, it didn't really seem worth finding out.

 

Sitting across from Doc in the truck bed was the younger girl whom Simon had an inkling was named Cassandra. Why? He wasn't sure. He supposed she just looked like a Cassandra. Perfectly arched black eyebrows, longer straight black hair falling in her face as her dark eyes stared directly over at the camera. A mix of a curious, but traumatized look in her eyes that Simon had seen one too many times with survivors. With a biometric scan, pulling up who the girl was, it was clear, in fact, that her name was Cassandra.

 

She was born August 19th, 1998 some time after her mother had fled from the political persecution in Thailand, moving to Washington shortly afterwards with her American husband, Jake Henner. There seemed to be a lot of moving in the household, two young girls with their mother and father, but nothing seemed entirely shocking about it. Besides the mother's frequent panic attacks, Cassandra Henner's family seemed to be normal and happy.

 

She had been only 18 by the time the apocalypse started, just starting her first year in college. Anything after that, Cassandra's family's wellbeing, was undisclosed. She didn't seem all too involved in social media, besides a few posts with a couple of friends in a dorm room.

 

Simon clicked on one of the videos, Cassandra out of frame, but two of her friends were the ones that the girl was recording. They had immediately started glitching, brutal gashes across their faces, one of the male's shoulders tore open as the girl's chest was mutilated. Simon swallowed hard, clicking off of it as soon as he could as he moved on to the next unknown, but guessed person: Thomas.

 

Or, as his mind liked to veer him into believing, 10K.

 

He still didn't know why the name would be linked to the guy, but there was only one way to find out. Thomas was more or less covered than the rest of them, Garnett's head cutting off the lower half of the guy's body who seemed to be holding a satellite dish. He was standing in the truck bed, Cassandra on the car roof beside him as Steven sat on the tailgate below him. The pixels were horrendous in even picking up what Thomas looked like, but the guy was turned at just the right angle that the biometric scan could pick up his face.

 

And even then, there wasn't much Simon could find on the man-- or really-- the kid. There was general information of Thomas being born on July 4th, 2003 to Jefferey and Anne Moore. He had lived somewhere out west for a while before moving to the mountains in upstate New York with his father. Thomas's mother, Anne, had died from cancer in 2008, which had been a year after the move. Other than that, Simon could barely find much else on the kid. Nothing that could point him in the direction of why he was so familiar; Or, really, even why he was with Delta-Xray.

 

There wasn't really anything in particular that would draw him, or any of Delta-Xray, together. Sure, Simon got the idea of camps and refugee sites set up, like Blue Sky or Point Trail which often times brought survivors from various states together, but other than that theory, there was nothing. These people, the ones he seemed to remember so vividly, there was nothing that could show him that he knew them. Or each other for that matter.

 

As far as Simon could tell, they had never met one another Pre-Z. No previous records, posts, conversations, or even mentions. They had to have met during the apocalypse, and by that time, Simon had already been working at the NSA to track the ZN1 virus, so there was no way he could have known them.

 

And yet, here he was, all this sense of nostalgia and recollection, but nothing in his memories to meet that expectation.

 

Lastly, from behind Addy and Mack was the tall, ginger haired woman who had to be at least Simon's age. Her long eyebrows were creased together, dark scabbed hands resting against her hips as her piercing black eyes locked on Murphy like magnets. She was the only one that Simon had no connection to. Instead, she was just this random person walking amongst idols he had no memory of.

 

But Simon was anything but a person who slacked in his work, and doing the last biometric scan on the woman had not been left unbothered. He was quick to not waste time pondering the lady over, going through the most prevalent information that he could find first. That being, the first of which he had found on the other members of Delta-Xray.

 

Getting a name to the face and the piercing black eyes that seemed too harmful on the person it was attached to, was named Blake McLanley--a simple married mother living in a nicer, but otherwise, utterly desolate neighborhood. Tall, stupendous mountains lurking over the little towns with snowcapped tips that looked to enclose the state. It looked serene and peaceful, like a world that was segregated out of the bustling of society, stationed in the beauty of nature tenfold.  

 

She had been born February 13th, 1986-- making her around two years older than Simon was. Not too long after graduating high school had she married a man-- Austin-- who had seemed to be some type of high school sweetheart by old, posted photos. Blake had been working as an at-home math teacher, taking college classes on the side to pursue a career as an accountant. Something Simon didn't find nearly as exciting, nor very helpful in how the hell Blake had survived this long. Calculated? Precise? Simon wasn't one to judge because here he was. More of the book smart, technology enthused geek that knew more than enough about hacking. Out in the real world of the apocalypse, Simon wouldn't be too cocky to say he'd last with his limited to none survival skills.

 

Which is why he had done a fair share of research on it in case an infamous day of the like arrived.

 

He was getting off track. Point was, Blake was more of a studying, stay-at-home working mom who was taking care of a five-year-old child-- Jennifer Wren McLanley as her birth certificate glaringly acknowledge. Too young to even be immersed in a world with zombies. A child who had never gotten to live life-- knowing only a few years of (hopefully) peace before being thrown into a world where it's nothing but survival clogging her mind.

 

It could be said for anyone, but when you couldn't even comprehend how to be independent, how could a child be thrown into a world of flesh-eating beasts that showed no mercy? A child at the feet of their dying parents, having to survive by themselves in a world of be eaten or not. Simon had never had to mourn a parent-- he didn't want to even think if his mother was out there somewhere because there was nothing he could ever do. If he found her on some camera, picked up a single image of her, all he could do was watch. See her glitch.

 

He never had to mourn, but so many people had. Children had. Young children left alone in a world that could take their life right after.

 

And Jennifer might be one of those kids.

 

Simon wanted to find out how many of Delta-Xray glitched, but very few videos of the people he was looking for were recorded. It was mostly photos, and that did shit for Simon. As his luck curtailed, he hadn't found any videos to do him any justice, but he couldn't help his solemn curiosity towards the video with a toddler smiling in frame. Brown, ginger tinted hair sat in a rat's nest on her head like a billowing flame. Her black eyes so much gentler than her mother's whose were loving but cold with time and experience.

 

His finger almost involuntarily clicked it, and even though Simon knew he could click off any time, he was too invested in his research to.

 

The video started out shaky, pulling itself up from a dark wooden floor towards a small dining room table. There was gift paper covering the floor, ribbons strung and tied to seats, the occasional party popper going off in the background. It was just adult voices that echoed at first, but as the camera panned over towards the innocent looking Jennifer, he was met by only her squeal of delight, bubbly words intermixing into a high-pitched rant.

 

"Mommy. Mommy. Lookie. Look." The camera hadn't met Jennifer's face yet, but the insistence in her words accurately reflected the number of candles lit on the Ariel birthday cake. "It's so pretty, Mommy. See?"

 

Simon couldn't even see what Jennifer was gushing over before the little girl's face had come into view. He couldn't even take in the details of sparkles of glitter dashing her face, or the wide smile with missing teeth leaving gapes of black. He didn't have time to see the blue smidges of some sort of dyed candy, or the few freckles that dotted underneath that.

 

The chaos broke too early for Simon to see any of it.

 

Instead, the glitching was prominent-- too much that its abrasive nature was like blinding lights being turned on after being submerged into absolute darkness for years on end. Jennifer's glitching was there, but it wasn't. A figure that looked like a zombie. He could see the brief flashes of drooling blood pooling in her mouth, white milky eyes hung from one socket as the skin deteriorated around it.

 

But he couldn't see it either. Instead of the rotting skin turning the fleshy pink towards a lifeless gray, he was met with a translucent figure, mirrored movements dancing across the room. The switch between alive and something in-between was immediate--blinding---powerful. It took over any sense Simon had, pounding in his head like something he was never supposed to see.

 

"I don't want anything else." The words were wise for such a young age-- gentle and chirped radiantly, but Simon couldn't focus on it. His head stung like knives pressed into his skull. His eyes burned as tears prickled at the end of his vision.

 

He fell forward, head in hands as he failed to pause the video, getting consistent whines from the life that now made its way beside him. Simon tried to brush Pup off, but as the husky neared closer, nearly offering himself to be of comfort, Simon fell into Pup. Latching onto the dog and burying his head in the soft coat that he had brushed not too long after he had found matted fur bundled together.

 

It was warm, safe even, curled into something living. He was content, the pounding headache slowly vanishing as the words from the video died out. Pup's whines were still there, quiet and worried, but he kept as a supporting block for Simon, setting his head on top of his own.

 

Simon chuckled when he came back to his senses, nearly prying himself off of Pup and letting a sniffled laugh escape him. It wasn't humorful but it wasn't broken. Just an empty, longing desperation that was void of understanding. Simon didn't know why he had glitching vision. Why he was alone for so long. Why he knew them and why he didn't. He didn't know why the previous glitching turned into something Simon feared would be his own painfully drawn-out death.

 

He had no idea in hell what was going on, but that was new, and Simon didn't like that glitch one bit.

 

--- line break---

 

Cassandra's POV:

 

The adrenaline from the day still hadn't worn off. Cassandra could quite feel her body still radiating it. Her twitchy movements, dragged in breaths, or as her hand ran along the music box and the knife-- her safety when there was none. Today had been stressful, and it hadn't even been her to go through the most stress this time.

 

But she was still reeling over the day, slowly coming off as the adrenaline rush died down and early bruises of pain made themselves prominent against her skin. She decidedly focused her attention elsewhere, trying to numb the pain like it wasn't even there, just like all the times she suffered at Tobias's hand.

 

The group had found refuge in some abandoned building a couple miles ahead of the Emergency Headquarters. Luckily, there hadn't been any groups around to snatch it, finally leaving Cassandra and her newfound group a quiet, content place to stay. There had only been a couple Zs that roamed the warehouse-- tracking their rotting feet across the concrete, echoing throughout the place with squelches of blood. Their dead moans reverberated in the open areas, allowing the group to track and give them mercy.

 

Now they were here, resting in corners of a closed off box that was reminiscent of a concrete room. They had traveled to one of the back rooms where the only door was the one in front. Cassandra hated how small it was. How they had to barricade the only door off so that they could sleep through the night. It was so much easier for zombies to block them in, for the zombies to just trap them there.

 

Cassandra had a few experiences like that. She didn't want a repeat.

 

They were still locked in there though, despite her own fear or Murphy's constant complaints. Her adrenaline mixed within her perpetual worry hadn't done her much justice when a chair was pushed against the handle, and they were told to spread out around the square room.

 

Cassandra wasn't one to get panicked so easily. The apocalypse had thrown more than enough her way for the past three years that little things like this, she knew how to handle them. It was like the elevator all over again. She had never been a claustrophobic person, but Murphy's endless frets over it falling or zombies bursting in had awoken a sliver of fear she didn't know she had. It was like seeing Murphy's bitten, demolished chest for the first time, or hearing a supposed oblivious person call her by her dreaded nickname. Sunshine.

 

She didn't know what the fear meant, she just knew it linked towards the odd look that were integrated into a rare, select few people's eyes.

 

She swallowed it down, taking deep breaths to calm her sudden nerves. The small, enclosed space wasn't something to get worked up about right now. If she started to freak out, Cassandra was sure it wouldn't end well. Freaking out never ended well, and until recently, Cassandra had tried her best to mask it as much as possible.

 

The group finding out about her previous family had only been a slip-up of sudden emotions-- thinking that they would look at her as a monster, a freak who enjoyed eating live victims. She never enjoyed it, but it was hard to veer her thoughts away from not being a monster, because in any instance, she was. What she did, what she committed, whether she wanted to or not-- she still did it.

 

It was a slow process to reconcile, but Cassandra had always been strong. She could handle it. She knew she could, ever since she gave Mother mercy or freed the victims from the cannibals. It was horrifying and traumatic to kill all those people, but she did it. She freed them from the God-forsaken planet they were left to rot on. No matter the basis of how horrible it truly was, Cassandra knew it was the right thing to do.

 

The victims had suffered from a position she had put them in. They were free by her doing.

 

It was a slow recovery to forgive herself, to not look at herself as some animal that needed caged, but Cassandra knew how to handle it. She could handle it. And it didn't have to be alone.

 

Cassandra was used to being alone. She wasn't a loner, really. She did enjoy the presence of others. Pre-Z, she had friends, people she cared about and talked to. Cassandra had never really been alone, and anytime she was, it was by her own doing. She had refused to be a part of the cannibals' group. After Mother had been trapped in her catatonic state, watching the world through a still window; and after Tobias had forced her into seducing men, and then eating them alive soon after-- she had stopped trying to be a part of them.

 

She had stopped trusting.

 

The night she ran was a relief in itself. Squeezing through the cut barbed wire, feeling the adrenaline rush instead of the scrapes littered across her body. She remembered tripping, throwing off the heels she had been giving, as dirt and sand clung to her sweaty skin.

 

It had been dark, the only light being a full moon above and the flashlights that shone each direction, yelling for her to come back. Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine. But Sunshine had been gone. She had been buried back in that trailer, dolled up face covered in make-up with too short of jeans and a crop top. Sunshine with a fake smile on her face, an act of desperation she had to keep up in order to keep the longing men hooked.

 

Sunshine was gone and Cassandra was running.

 

She hadn't known where she would go that night. It was easy to slip out of the shining light's shadows, hiding away from the searching cannibals. They were calling for her, attracting zombies in hopes that they'd run her back, but Cassandra knew their games and she wouldn't fall for it this time.

 

She had snuck around in the alleyways, hoisting herself up onto a fire escape and lurking up on the roofs, hidden by the walls that blocked the lowering overhead moon that shone with such intensity that Cassandra could trick herself into thinking a house had been powered back with electricity. She only had a knife on her as protection, the music box her only mental protection she had that she could physically hold.

 

Everything else on her was…exposing. Her clothes-- the black, short tank top, and jeans that nearly stopped at her bottom. The outfit was never supposed to be apocalypse ready. It was only supposed to define her as something that could lure in their meal.

 

Bait-- set on a fishing hook to draw those who desired in. She was the worm, the unsuspecting men were the fish, and Tobias was the fisherman. The one who had it all set up, that was in control whether or not the worm or the fish knew it.

 

After Mother died, Cassandra had stopped trusting. After she ran away, she stopped believing that a group was safe. After realizing what Tobias had offered her to do, had forced her to do, she stopped thinking that she was worth being a part of any group that she stumbled across.

 

Her past in the apocalypse was demented, and it had taken time and effort to try and heal.

 

The group, the ones she sat near now, had helped her. She didn't trust them, she couldn't at first, but the way they acted had worked its way into Cassandra's mind, convincing her that not everything was evil. That she was still worth being a part of something that wasn't monsters.

 

Hopefully, not monsters.

 

There was that slight bit of wariness, that distrust, that she held against them. At first, Tobias had seemed like a good man. He saved her; he saved Jodi and Donna-- Stormy and Moonshade, he had called them so lovingly that it had nearly made Cassandra puke. He was a good man until Black Summer. Until Mrs. Campbell broke and never came back. He was good until he had trapped a man, used him as a test on whether or not they could eat human flesh in the apocalypse and still live.

 

There was a time when they were all against it. When Jodi and Donna and her had cried when Tobias sliced a piece of flesh off of the screaming man's leg. When Donna, the oldest of them, would hold Jodi and Cassandra close, whispering in their ear with reassuring phrases, mumbled under her own breath with panic and urgency. It was a fear none of them had ever thought they'd live through. Even the men had been scared. Bernt, Samuel, Karl, Merchant, even Travis-- they had yelled. Threatened to leave.

 

But Tobias's threats had been worse. They were without protection. They would starve. They would leave their family for good.

 

And maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing.

 

Slowly, they had all started to fall into the trap. Jodi had stopped crying at night. She had put on her make-up, wiped her eyes, put on a fake smile, and called herself Stormy until she truly believed that everything going on was all right. That she was safe and okay. That she was living and not constantly fighting for survival.

 

Donna had fallen into line soon after, watching as the girl she had called a younger sister accepted her fate into this new family. Donna always had a smile against her pale face, in any times of reassuring even when she wasn't happy. Moonshade had dark, clouded eyes that would veer off into the open field. Eyes that would stay there without moving, without noticing. They were stuck-- her eyes and herself, and in its wake, had left behind the shell of someone Cassandra had titled an older sister.

 

The men had tried, one or two of the newest had left, but Cassandra had found them a few days later, tied up in wrappings hanging from the ceiling with their mouths stitched shut. Even when they tried to leave, they would never get far. They could never leave.

 

But Cassandra had. After her second family submitted to what Tobias had given them, Cassandra had lost hope. She had lost any sort of trust in people. If people that she had known as good could change to evil that quickly, how could Cassandra completely let her guard down around this new group? Her third family.

 

She couldn't, she really couldn't, but she had felt herself slip up the afternoon they had waited for her and 10K. The way they cared, not only about each other, but about her as well. That distrust had left for a fleeting moment, forcing her to hope, to think, she finally found a good family.

 

So far, they had been. Like she said, Cassandra wasn't a loner, but she didn't actively seek help from those she didn't fully trust. Actively, being the prime word.

 

Addy had broken a boundary Cassandra had tried to keep up. She hadn't forced, but she was there. When she knew who Cassandra was, and when she didn't. Cassandra, from Pre-Z, had only known how to be the big sister. When the zombies rose, she had lost the privilege to call herself that, but meeting the group, Addy had taken on the role just as quickly.

 

They had laughed, cried together, shared things Cassandra never thought she'd have to talk about or could talk about again. Cassandra didn't fully trust her, not wanting to get her hopes up, but Addy had wormed her way into her life in a comforting sister role that Cassandra oddly longed for. When Cassandra had zoned out after Philly, when she would bolt up at night feeling the blood drip down her hands and the ragged breathing of the victims cease, Addy would be there to comfort her. She didn't know what she was comforting Cassandra with, but she was still there, rubbing circles on her back gently. Her touched had been light and her voice had been a whisper, but it reminded Cassandra of her times comforting her own mother, and had fallen into the soothing motion.

 

Addy had been the first she trusted, and the first that made her want to stay with the group until she didn't need to or found out if they had ulterior motives.

 

Doc, who was sitting near Warren and Garnett, pitching in an idea or quip from time to time, was slowly pushing his way into her heart as well. The older man was different from the ones Cassandra remembered seeing with Tobias. They had always given her a predatory look, eyes trailing her up and down with that disgusting smirk on their face. Whatever sick mentality Tobias had had then, had rivaled the men who had to be at least thirty years older than Cassandra.

 

Tobias had put those men with Donna, who had been in her late twenties at the time. Cassandra had only been nearing nineteen, and every time she had seen that sick look on the middle-aged men's faces, she had wanted to vomit. A part of her had felt relief when Tobias had run into the trailer to drag their bodies out, but she was remined just as quickly of how horrible those thoughts truly were.

 

Doc had never look at her that way. He had smiled, cracked jokes, look at her in worry, but never with some sort of desire. He had tried to ease the tension she kept between them, slowly knocking down the wall Cassandra had built up with gentle taps of her own letting. He never forced himself on her-- not romantically, not friendship wise, none of that. He let her choose if she liked him. He didn't make her feel like an animal, never looked at her as if she was vicious and ruthless.

 

It was the kind of look that reminded her of her father's loving gaze, and slowly, her walls started to fall.

 

10K, on the other hand, was a whole package in himself. She had noticed the way he had shifted around the room when they first entered. His eyes had trailed the small box, giving a small, anxious huff to himself before resting in a corner where he was facing the door. She had watched him keep himself preoccupied, cleaning his gun and counting the limited ammo that was quickly diminishing. Only twice had she noticed him look her way, felt it actually, but the second she had turned to look at him was the second he had looked away.

 

She wasn't an idiot. 10K had a way with hiding his emotions from plain view, but he wasn't that good. There was always that subtle, love struck look in his eyes that reminded her of high school years when boys had a crush on her. There was always that shy-like smile that rested on his face when he would look at her for too long, but Cassandra was glad that they had moved on from that stalker-ish type phase.

 

He didn't watch her as much anymore. That lingering worry in his eyes that didn't denote on the fact that she had been a cannibal, but instead worried for her safety-- that looked like an urge to protect had dwindled some. He didn't constantly keep an eye on her, he didn't constantly worry, and he didn't force either. The crush he had suddenly gained for her wasn't one he pushed, and Cassandra allowed herself to respect him for it.

 

10K never tried to make a move on her, never brought it up towards her. All it was, was little actions that he usually kept to himself, but had earned the attention of Cassandra. She couldn't think of a time, after Philly, that she would feel comfortable with people making a move on her the way 10K refused to. It made her skin crawl anytime she would think about a man touching her, of even trying to make things work with a guy romantically.

 

It made bile rise to her throat, sending her back into that trailer. Back to where all the men had looked at her, breathed down her neck, thought they were making her feel aroused when all she was doing was fearing for her life-- fearing for what Tobias would do to her.

 

10K didn't push it, never tried to, and Cassandra felt slightly safer around him for that, despite the little crush she knew he had. It would go away with time, she was sure of it. Most men had looked at Cassandra only for her beauty, as they would say. For her skinny body, perfectly framed face, everything that would meet the standards of magazine cover worthy Pre-Z.

 

When they got to know her, sometimes even Pre-Z, a pretty face wasn't enough to compensate for her strong will. They had never been the right ones, and maybe that was Cassandra's fault for not looking in the right corners. Not everybody wanted control over someone with a nice body. Cassandra, despite all her observation, was just having a hard time figuring out where 10K lied on that spectrum.

 

It didn't matter though. So long as he didn't make a move on her, everything was fine.

 

She noticed Murphy make his way over towards 10K, hesitating before taking a seat next to the youngest of the group. She could see both of their regards to one another, closed-off, worried, neither really wanting to have a conversation with a distrust lingering between them. She could see Blake give the two a side-eye from her spot next to Doc, trying to not draw attention to herself every time she looked towards the two guys' way.

 

Cassandra's eyes had lingered on Blake's for a while longer, watching as the lady's anxious behavior kicked in. Her hand rubbed across her face, fingernails picking at her teeth as they chewed them down to skin. Never enough to bleed, but enough to leave them tingling with numbness with newly exposed skin. Blake did it often, just like how she wrote in her diary a lot of times, both looking to be a need from necessity.

 

Everything about Blake screamed, don't trust her, you don't know her. She didn't know any of the group, but the way Blake seemed so misplaced in the small group of survivors frightened Cassandra. Even in the times Blake would call her "hon", giving her this loving nickname that wasn't implying that she was some hook-up toy like she was with all the men in Philly. There was that protectiveness in Blake's eyes that rivaled 10K's and even Murphy's when they looked at her. All different, but all the same. It didn't stop the fact that Cassandra's distrust for Blake was higher.

 

Odd eyes, sudden urgency to protect, acting like she had known Cassandra all her life-- She couldn't pinpoint what they all meant. Why was Blake so caring towards her, but so off that Cassandra wanted to separate herself from her? Blake's words to her were everything like her mother's. Kind, sweet, gentle-- but there was that misplacement that Cassandra couldn't compare them.

 

She didn't know what to make of it, but her instincts told her to not trust. To find out exactly who Blake was.

 

Cassandra felt a hand land against her shoulder, quick pats on her arm as the person shuddered forward. Getting completely drawn from her thoughts, Cassandra heard the laughter that followed the mysterious person, sounding too much like Addy's.

 

Sure enough, the red-headed woman was laughing, reminding Cassandra that she had been in a conversation with Addy before she got lost in her own thoughts. Seeing as how Addy seemed unaffected by Cassandra's inattentiveness, she supposed Addy hadn't noticed she had blanked out in her own thoughts for a moment longer than she would have liked.

 

"Alright, alright. I suppose that's fair." Her words were jumbled in through her laughter, short breaths wheezing through her chest like she was having a hard time breathing. It caught Mack's attention, who was only a few feet in front of Addy. His feet were resting against Addy's legs (which were pulled up against her chest) a hat he found lying in the room covering his eyes so that he could get some sleep before his watch that was directly at the odd hours of the night.

 

He tipped his hat up some, gentle blue eyes tracing his girlfriend's face in curiosity, watching the exchange take place for a moment before deeming that she was safe and covering the hat back over his eyes. This time, a smile on his face.

 

Finally, Cassandra was able to pull herself out of her trance, centering her attention on Addy in hopes to figure out where the conversation turned to. It took a moment for Addy's breathing to even out, a wide, full smile covering her lively face.

 

Now was the time for the group to get some shut eye, while Garnett took first watch and Mack taking his spot after that, but Addy and her had been too awake from the day's events. They figured they'd be able to doze off sometime soon if they wore themselves out, but time seemed to be going slower than Cassandra remembered.

 

"Um…" Addy's hand traced her own cheek in thought, picking at her chin before her eyes snapped back to Cassandra. At the moment, they seemed so vulnerable and open, loving in a sense. A swell of happiness filled Cassandra's chest that the vanished darkness that usually clouded over in the red-head's blue eyes was gone. "What about nicknames?" Oh right. They were playing some game like Twenty-questions.

 

 "Any boyfriends give you little pet names Pre-Z?" Addy joked, nudging Cassandra with a playful jab. She seemed to notice how Cassandra recoiled in on the statement, immediately trying to correct herself. "Or girlfriends." She shrugged. "I don't judge. I've been known to swing both ways a little too."

 

Whatever solemn or nervous expression that had lined Cassandra's face before had vanished, noting the tidbit of information Addy had given her as her face tinted red in embarrassment. "No, no, no. I don't--" She cut herself short, retreating from the conversation that had been mistaken. Cassandra dated a couple guys Pre-Z here and there. She never questioned her sexuality, and even now, she didn't care to cross that line. Any intimate relationship brought up horrors and worries that Cassandra focused to push down.

 

"No pet names." She changed what she was going to say before, focusing the conversation back on nicknames. After a moment, she added. "Just little family shortenings." Not Sunshine, though.

 

"Yeah?" Addy prodded, a gentle smile tugging at her lips as she shifted her body towards her. "Like what?"

 

Cassandra felt her own lips twitch, feeling a sudden relief fall on her shoulders, releasing her from her earlier, worrisome thoughts. "Guess." It was a little pride that she felt build in her chest as Addy took the challenge, narrowing eyes with a smirk on her face.

 

Addy hummed, scanning her face over like every little detail and scar could give her answers. "I'm gonna say something…simple, right? Affectionate but short." She deduced, likely thinking about her own name shortened from 'Addison' to 'Addy'. "Like-" She drawled, thinking for a moment. "Cassie. Maybe?"

 

There was that split second of doubt that ran across Addy's face, seeping into her voice by the end when a victorious smirk grew on Cassandra's. She shook her head 'no', watching as the playful smile fell in concentration.

 

"Damn. Thought it was." The smile returned just as quickly, wide like before when she was laughing. "What about Cass? Same thing, just shortened."

 

"There you go." She couldn't help as her own teasing mixed in; her voice quiet to not be heard by the others in the small room. "Got it in two, Addison."

 

Addy clicked her tongue, giving a quiet chuckle as she repeated Cassandra's nickname. "I like it." She said after a moment, giving Cassandra little time to process over the sudden praise of the name before her attention fell over to Murphy. "What about him? Whatcha think Mr. Savior of Humanity's real name is?"

 

Whether or not Murphy heard Addy's question (doubtful when he was immersed in one with 10K) didn't show other than when his head tilted to the side some, and his eyes veered over towards her. It wasn't a stone-cold glare, nor was it his usual pissy look like he was always aggravated over something.

 

"My guess?" Mack piped up, barely lifting the hat off his head. "Asshole."

 

Cassandra couldn't help the snort that left her at the sudden derogatory comment. If it wasn't Blake that seemed to hate Murphy's guts, Mack took her place-- as distrusting of the man who was with Hammond like Cassandra was with Blake.

 

"Don't be rude." Addy chastised, but there was no real reprimanding in her voice. "Besides. You're one to talk, goat boy." She reused the nickname from yesterday, earning a snort from Mack this time as he curled himself closer against the wall. His legs still wrapped around Addy's in a protective manner.

 

"Thanks babe." He scoffed, albeit, light-heartedly.

 

Addy's eyes, full of passion as they landed on Mack's trying-to-sleep form, quickly turned back to Cassandra, reiterating her question again. "What about you, Cass?"

 

She hummed in acknowledgement to the nickname, still being foreign to hear it said aloud after all these years. "Crowley, maybe? Kind of looks like one." She guessed, turning back to Addy.

 

Addy shrugged, debating it over with a slightly unimpressed "eh." It wasn't all that bad of a guess, Cassandra supposed. She was used to guessing people's emotions, feelings, personality and goals just from looking at them. Names weren't on that checklist.

 

"I'm going to say Keith. Suits him a bit, right?" Keith sounded much more natural than Crowley, Cassandra had to give Addy that. Sounded better than Asshole too, so Addy got them both beat.

 

Finally, the conversation seemed to draw the attention of the person being talked about, Murphy picking up his head to give them a quick side-eye before patting 10K on the shoulder and walking off towards Warren. It attracted the attention of Blake, who hurriedly made her way to confront Murphy, their conversation turning into harsh whispers Cassandra couldn't make out.

 

Addy snapped out of it first, drawing her eyes away from (what they guessed was a Pre-Z divorced couple) to instead, turn their attention over towards 10K. Him and Murphy were the only two they didn't have a first name for, (10K not revealing his last either) so it was inevitable for him not to be caught in the crossfire of the game.

 

Addy had asked, and Cassandra pondered over it. Mack gave no indication that he was playing anymore, and 10K seemed uninterested in looking their way if he could hear them. He busied himself instead, looking everywhere but where they were, and Cassandra couldn't help but guess that he could probably hear them.

 

"I'd say Nat." It was a lazy guess, sure, but it was the only one that popped into her mind. "Like Nate, but without the e." She clarified after Addy's face contorted into confusion.

 

"Well, aren't you coming up with the creative names?" The red-head chuckled, lightly grazing Cassandra's arms with a playful pat. Cassandra felt herself lean into it for a moment, pulling back as Addy stretched against the wall, humming in mumbled questions.

 

"I'd say…?" Her eyes squinted, looking over 10K that would be totally unnatural in any public setting. "He looks more like one of those country boys, you know?" She pondered aloud, tapping her chin.

 

"So simple?" Cassandra took a shot in the dark, tilting her head slightly to the side, eyes trailing over 10K less intensely than Addy's.

 

His jet-black hair ran smoothly across his forehead, diverting into messy spikes here and there. The fading dirt lines that had lined his pale skinned face from earlier today were slowly rubbing off, intermixing with the blood and grime that came with lack of showering. Even for apocalypse standards, the way he held himself, acted, or even spoke, reminded her so much of a country boy. She couldn't see much city living in him-- not like her or Addy.

 

A name was given to a person before birth, but somehow, it nearly always seemed to define them. Addy's name (looking past the obvious meaning of Addison) clearly bled through into who she was. Noble, honest, good-- It was who Addy was; like she had lived up to what her name meant.

 

Despite lacking in interpreting people's names from first glance, Cassandra had taken it upon herself Pre-Z to at least try. She always had a way with reading people and having one more on her side shouldn't have come as a hassle.

 

She never picked up the skill, the zombies rising too quickly, but she had done a decent amount of research to start off.

 

Her own name, Cassandra, only seemed to haunt her now. 'Shining upon men' as she had always read, and even then, it only seemed to highlight her harrowing fate that had come quick enough. She had read that she was a helper of man, a person who would prophesize destruction, disaster, and doom.

 

Maybe she couldn't predict the future, but she sure as hell could see part of it. Through others' eyes, actions, anything that gave them that feeling of being odd. Her name (the one her parents gave her unbeknownst to her future) seemed to directly come true as time went on.

 

 Sometimes, names told who a person was. For her, for Addy. Maybe for all the others. She didn't know them well enough to assume, and for two, she didn't even know a first name for.

 

So trying to guess 10K's actual name would be impossible from simply looking at him. Cassandra knew it was all a fun game, reaching towards twig like branches to try and climb higher, but inevitably knowing you're going to fall in the end. All her guesses, trying to pinpoint his actions or personality weren't going to help her in the long run.

 

But it was all fun and games in the end, after all.

 

"Yeah, simple I guess." Biting her bottom lip, Addy's eyes flitted over him for a second longer before turning back towards Cassandra. "I was thinking something like Bruce, y'know?" She picked up the way a smile graced Addy's face, eyes slowly crinkling like a joke was to be found. " He's tough and rugged…quiet."

 

She could pick up on the playful tone right away, feeling just about an eye roll away before stopping herself with a twitching smile on her lips. She quirked her eyebrow slightly, knowing exactly the way Addy was leading this.

 

Addy instantly picked up on it, nudging Cassandra's thin arm lightly. "Come on. I can't be the only one that he reminds of a younger Bruce Wayne." Her voice had raised higher a tad, getting a couple odd looks from the few group members that were still awake. 10K, of course, raised a curious scarred eyebrow their way, holding their gaze for a moment before looking back over towards the door. A sudden concentrated look on his face, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

 

Thinking back to her early assumptions, she finally let herself roll her eyes at the eccentric red-head beside her. "Besides the rich part." Or orphaned part, but Cassandra knew that was highly doubtful.

 

Addy had finally stifled her laughs to breathy chuckles, shaking her head in amusement. "Don't be so quick to assume. You never know." She shrugged with one shoulder, feet tapping lightly against her quietly snoring boyfriend.

 

Cassandra let herself shrug too, brushing it off. It's not like rich or poor had much bearing anymore in the world. They were all survivors against flesh craving monsters. Cassandra was almost entirely sure the rest of humanity was fighting for survival on a daily, doing worse and unimaginable things against their will just to live another day.

 

Nobody had the luxury anymore of sitting by a poolside, sipping a martini and relaxing in the warm rays of embrace that the sun above offered. That old way of life, for rich, was gone. The days of shivering in the cold, begging for food or money, was only half lost on those who were poor. It wasn't money that was being begged for, but shelter, food, and safety. Everyone was shivering in the night, dying as the days droned on.

 

There couldn't be a person left on Earth that was spared of whatever deity wrought on humanity, if any at all. They were all suffering.

 

She let the thoughts slide off of her in an instant, again, being drawn back to reality with Addy's voice.

 

"Since you don't like my guess," She could hear the teasing in Addy's voice, spoken in a way without accusation. "You take a go."

 

"I already did." Nat, without the e.

 

"Try again."

 

She knew Addy wasn't fond of her off-the-top-of-her-head guess, considered lousy for the first name on the tip of her tongue. Cassandra felt herself shaking her head fondly, dark eyes once again trailing over 10K.

 

His slim body shifted over to look towards the door, trained on watching it in case of an emergency. His stare, calm but fierce at the same time, felt like she was dragged back into the cannibal's base at Philly. Watching him roam around, looking for an exit, or even when they were hiding, right before they…found the victims. He had the same stare, but this time, that fear wasn't as noticeable.

 

Brave.

 

When he had been drawn back into the red lit room, she could see that fear again, but even in the peak of insanity of freeing all the men, 10K had refused to waver the whole time. In times of danger, he saved the group from his position as the sniper, making sure they were protected.

 

He was loyal. Faithful towards people he had just met around the time she had.

 

Her staring caused his to draw towards her, greenish blue eyes meeting her dark brown.

 

He didn't like to show too much emotion, too much vulnerability, she knew that, but she could see it in his eyes. There was a protected worry over them that he showed in his actions, but not in his words. A good type of protectiveness. Not the ecstatic good and kind that Addy constantly showed when she wasn't out of it herself, but a subtle one that could go unnoticed to the non-inspecting eye.

 

Maybe there were a few connections to the famous comic book hero of the now crumbling world, but the make-shift attire that constituted a plethora of black clothing, or the brooding, silent manner he held himself in, Cassandra found herself swaying away from the 'Bruce Wayne' name Addy had dubbed him. (And would probably tease him about if they stuck together long enough to be comfortable with one another)

 

"I'd say Caleb." Instead, she settled for something simple, like they had decided. It was nothing too flashy or out of the ordinary. She could see it suiting him, but deep down, something pushed her to say that it was wrong. That there was another name, more natural on her tongue that she couldn't quite remember. "Less of the rich, brooding Dark Knight shenanigans connected to him."

 

She couldn't help but let herself relax some, chuckling as she pushed down any sort of idea for another name. After all, this little analyzing period was only supposed to be fun, trying to read off of people enough to give her a name. Just fun and games.

 

"Yeah, yeah." Addy wavered, motioning with her hand in a so-so motion. "I could see that. Not really badass movie star connection though." She teased, drawing her hand back under her chin, resting on her knee.

 

Cassandra felt herself shrug again, slightly more drowsy from her adrenaline finally dissipating out of her system. The name might not be 'badass' or have any connection to action-based movie star like Dwayne Johnson or Jason Statham, and it may not feel completely right to Cassandra herself, but it was as close as she could come.

 

Her reading skills were better than her name guessing skills, and even in disregarding the odd eyes that had stared around her for almost four years, her magic touch was one she never lost. Weird situation or not.

 

She'd find out what it is that makes this group so different, and she'd find out who it was that stood out. She felt that something was off, wrong even, and slowly in growing closer to the few around her, reading off of who they were, her conclusions were starting to come quicker.

 

A part of her never even thought to imagine that the possibilities of what she was caught up in were crazier than the ones her mind had formed already.

 

---line break---

 

Murphy's POV:

 

He was sure he had mentioned his fears before, hadn't he? Swear on his life, hope not to die. The list had been going on and on and on for the past, he doesn't know, twelve years before the time travel shit, and then four years of being back in time.

 

Zombies, elevators, getting eaten alive, claustrophobia, becoming a human blood bag for a few rich assholes to survive, having to deal with this time travel shit show again. There were so many more, and so many he would love to actually rant about every now and then.

 

Don't get him wrong, he's tried. He had brought it up with the group a couple of times now, inconspicuously building up to the climax of blurting out everything Blake wanted to hide. It had been his whole plan, disregarding the details of Blake shooting him in the ass afterwards, but that particular plan was cut short a couple hours ago.

 

Murphy knew his sutble little hints were starting to get to the group, Warren especially. He knew those little looks almost instantly. That mistrust, judging a situation and reconsidering what exactly was being hidden. He had gotten better at noticing her infamous prying looks, but Warren, the badass, deity sent woman she was, still remained a slight mystery every now and then.

 

Even with her being his Blend for two years, she had never really been his. He had tried to get authority over her, and had done so plenty of times, but she had fought back twice as hard-- twice as strong-- and that connection was disjointed to her being back in slight control. She hid her thoughts well, didn't give him the praise that all the other Blends had fallen under. She was his Blend but was too much of her own person to be for long.

 

So he didn't have full knowledge over Warren, most things she wanted to hide stayed hidden from him, and her looks were ones he struggled to decipher a lot of times thereafter and before.

 

Which inconveniently meant that he had to work his way around those roadblocks, and change his plan to something that would make him sound less like a wacko from a psych ward. His hints may have gotten Warren and the others suspicious of the whole 'repeating fiasco' they found themselves in, but it wasn't enough to just blurt it out right then and there.

 

He had to think logically, and Murphy prided himself on being a master of doing so.

 

That being said, when his farcical proclaim did come out into the light, he had to make sure the group would be on his side; not Blake's and not the Risen's.

 

The absurd thing about this whole time shenanigan was, Blake had more time on him with the group then he had. In the past life (as Blake so sincerely dubbed it) Murphy had years of fights, arguments, bonding, and experiences under his belt with the group. Everything he remembered, but they forgot. Blake had three years on him now with Warren, Garnett, Mack, Addy, and Doc. She had three years to convince them to be on her side, to show them this false façade she kept up in front of them.

 

Isn't that karma being bitch?

 

Murphy had more knowledge than Blake. He knew what was going to happen, what will happen, how the group feels and reacts. He knew it all, anything major or minuscular that could affect their new future. And what did he decide to do with it?

 

Hold it just above her head.

 

But the universe was too cruel to let him gain the group's trust above his enemy. Blake had that on her side. She had the group's trust, their friendship. She had the experiences and the memories and that advantage in keeping them with her.

 

Who would they believe if Murphy was outright with what had happened in the past life? The one they had become acquainted with, or the one who was being transported on a suicide mission with eight zombie bites across his chest that they had accidently stumbled upon? Just in the wake of their camp being destroyed nonetheless and inheriting the responsibility of transporting this 'unknown zombie bitten survivor' because Hammond had died.

 

It wouldn't be him, Murphy knew that much, which made his job incredibly more difficult to get them on his side, and not Blake's.

 

Especially when some of them were giving him the constant stink eye and calling him an asshole. Not that the last one was uncalled for. He was making an effort this time, sure, but a true nature always stuck.

 

Some of the group would be easier, to say the least. And some wouldn't be as important as they may pride themselves on being. Murphy cared about the group, don't get him wrong, but there was only a few he truly felt a liking towards. A family bond towards. And that just happened to be the ones that had lived long enough, the ones he had gotten to know better, become his Blend.

 

Point aside in Murphy's ever undisclosed circle of possible friends; those supposed friends of his actually had to become one. Doc, the man he never changed from and Murphy hoped never would, was still on the track of coming close to him, even if it had only been a few weeks. Murphy was more open to call him a friend this time, more than he had been in the past life.

 

Addy was getting there, but she still wasn't too fond of him; Mack was way off the rails of friendship anytime he'd even look towards Murphy (he guessed that had something to do with Hammond. Or not. Who knows?). Garnett wasn't overly fond of looking at him in any ways of 'friend-wise'. The optimistic self-proclaimed leader was more in favor of finishing the damn trek across the country than mend any bond with their 'package'.

 

With both his and Blake's interferences, he had no idea in hell where Warren lied on the spectrum. The day he met her (again) she had never stopped giving him that wary stare. The day after Blake had met him back in time, Warren's trust in Blake seemed to dwindle; the Risen member receiving similar treatment to what Murphy was getting.

 

Warren's trust seemed here nor there, and Murphy saw his advantage. She was the one he needed the most trust from. Wherever Warren went, the group followed. Murphy saw the idiocracy in that from the beginning after Warren's random space-outs from Black Rainbow and Zona, but he understood it. It was stupid, to go headfirst into danger when they thought there was no mission anymore, but Warren had always led them. She always brought them out of a messed up hellbent adventure with the group still breathing and the place in ashes.

 

He needed Warren's trust again. A part of him still longed for the friendship that formed after years of back-and-forth feuds.

 

He still remembered Warren calling him over, after the whole family fiasco and Brains a' Bizkuits they had to deal with. The family were all Talkers, turning each other because why not, it's the apocalypse and they were hungry; before finally being able to get the secret recipe from the mother and make a couple trays of Bizkuits. Recipe for disaster from the start, but it all worked out in the end.

 

She had told him to take them back to Limbo, he agreed, not really for the need of being helpful towards the rest of humanity (not that he'd admit) but because he had been hiding Talkers in the refugee place/Casino for a while and needed a bakery. She said to take care of them, and knowing damn well he would, he had brushed her off. Warren, the stubborn woman she was--is, retaliated in return.

 

"Okay, well then be safe." She had snarked back, drawing it out so he knew he was pushing buttons.

 

He could've let it go, but with the whole Zona thing that had happened a couple months prior; Warren almost-- no, Warren dying, bleeding to death and becoming this enhanced Talker; with Estes and Pandora out and about wreaking havoc. His Limbo and his safety were nothing compared to what he thought Warren would be going head on into. So, he hadn't let it slide.

 

"No, you be safe out there." And with knowing how much trouble she had gotten into before and led them into, he had added. "I don't want to have to go traipsing around half of Screwmerica again to save your ass."

 

He could see the smile trying to hide itself on her face, her sass all the more prominent as the vague annoyance of his constant brushing off dissipated. "I don’t care how many times you got to traipse around, you might have to save me. But when you do, pick a color."

 

She had flicked her hand in front of his face, and he dared not to let his fondness and amusement show, mustering up all the exasperation he could with his hands on his hips and a forced, fake laugh, despite the humor he tried to hide from her.

 

Warren had given him her own fake laugh in return, but at some point, they had turned to genuine, real laughs. Not overexerted, not forced. It had been a nice moment of teasing one another, turning into a warm feeling bubbling in Murphy's chest when he finally realized how far they had come.

 

The moment hadn't passed, but he had felt his smile slip when thinking about how they'd be parting ways again. "I mean it, Warren. The Apocalypse wouldn't be half as fun without you in it." So don't die. Don't do anything stupid. "Be careful."

 

 He had patted her on the back, leaving the somber moment behind as he walked towards the Talker Family Bunch stealing looks at the freshly made Bizkuits. Her next words, after a few moments of letting him walk away, had stopped him dead in his tracks. That feeling of finally having acceptance, people who cared about him and didn't push him away as some asshole package that needed to be delivered or placed; command over and over like a puppet doing its master's bidding.

 

"I love you too, Murphy."

 

He was accepted, trusted, and now he wasn't. Now time travel screwed with everything, the Risen screwed with everything. He had them safe. They were Blends, yeah, but they were safe. From persecutions of being different-- not human-- from Estes's followers and rampant murderers, rapists, cannibals. They were safe, and the Risen stripped them from it. They forced war, killed his Blends, and in the end, killed his group-- the pain from each of the bullets they took still buried against Murphy's skull.

 

And now Blake was accepted, and he wasn't. Murphy hated to admit that that hurt the most.

 

But that's how it works, doesn't it? He has his high ground, she has her's. They both held an advantage over one another, and there was no way they'd work around it unless they either helped one another, or Murphy could convince the group to join his side instead.

 

Murphy proposed the latter.

 

The only two Blake didn't have her grimy fingers curled around were 10K and Cassandra. That only being because they hadn't been around the group long enough this time to form a well-founded opinion. Murphy knew the two to be consistently wary of other groups and people. Luck of being alone or being used. He remembered their nightmares when they were his Blends, or their memories that he would dig through to know them better. ('Course that wasn't an excuse for making it all right, but he had better tendencies in mind then).

 

This time around, the two seemed more distrusting than they were in the past life, working around the group and each other like they were puzzles that needed to be solved. Murphy knew there was something going on there, but the apocalypse was already wacky as is, and two people being slightly more suspicious was nothing for him to really raise alarm over.

 

Unless, it prohibited him on persuading them that he was right.

 

He did it with Warren once, and he was sure he would be able to do it again with all his knowledge. Just needed to speed up the process this time. With 10K and Cassandra, though-- the two who were yet to be corrupted by Blake's constant influence for three years? Murphy could work his way on getting them on his side.

 

Cassandra seemed less opposed to him than 10K did (something told him it was the whole Twinkie ordeal again) but seeing as how Cassandra was blanked out while Addy was chatting away beside her, he figured he wouldn't have much luck in talking to her tonight.

 

10K, however, who had himself propped up against one of the walls, eyes trailing along the members of the group-- would probably be a better option in trying to at least become somewhat acquainted with.

 

Shoving back all their constant rivalries in the past, the number of times they fought, countless time 10K wanted to kill him, or when Murphy used 10K to his own advantage; Murphy grumbled with a huff, pushing himself away from the wall, taking careful, short steps over to the youngest of the group.

 

10K's eyes immediately flickered towards him, reminding Murphy all too much of the night when they would get the vaccine. When 10K had been suspicious that the vaccine wasn't really the cure, had been worrying all day as he secluded himself to a lonely crate. His hand had been twirling a knife before he had pocketed it and started picking at the scabs of his antler hand.

 

Murphy had tried to confront him, calm him down about his worries that were actually true, and somehow, it had worked. Somewhat. 10K still figured out more than he should have, freaked-out like Murphy expected when the peaceful moment of actually joking with one another had been ruined. Whatever Murphy had said after that had seemed to ease the kid's worries, but that distrust had lingered just as it was now.

 

Murphy mustered the courage to actually sit next to the kid, sliding down the cement wall to the cool concrete floor below them. He felt a chill run down his spine, but suppressed from shaking it off, instead letting a warm exhale leave his chest as he relaxed on the floor.

 

He let his eyes follow 10K's movements as Murphy shifted into a better position, watching as 10K vaguely scooted away from him, his eyes pinned on Doc-- never daring to look Murphy's way in acknowledgement. Not too keen on starting a conversation now, huh? He supposed 10K never was when Murphy decided to open his mouth around him, so what's another time going to matter?

 

"You going to ignore me this whole time, or what?" He couldn't help as his own sass shown through. Murphy wasn't much better at talking to 10K than he was in the past life. Most interactions between them were brief or curt, and the only time they would ever really 'bond' was when they were talking with the group. That included time in Altura too. Murphy could only remember a handful of times it had just been the two of them-- talking nicely, and not at each other's throats. Most of those times were after Murphy had given them the vaccine, but before they had found out what that vaccine exactly was.

 

The kid looked down towards him almost as quickly as he shot a pack of Zs. There and gone within a minute. He didn't speak, or nod, or even hold a stare long enough for Murphy to really get an answer. Typical 10K mood that Murphy sure as hell remembered the kid always having.

 

"Guess not." Murphy mumbled out, letting his eyes fall on Cassandra, Addy, and Mack. The latter had been talking before, Murphy had heard faint whispers of all but a couple sentences the man had slipped out, but other than that, it had just been Addy and Cassandra's voices.

 

The younger woman of the two was now looking his way, less zoned off than she was before as her eyes trialed him over. There was a concentrated look that betrayed her when she finally decided to look away, giving him the clue that he was on her radar. Which, of course, Murphy assumed from the get-go with how she was acting again, but hey, more concrete evidence to go off of.

 

He debated on giving her a wink, but figuring that'll probably blow his chances and make her disgusted, he offered a tilt of his head instead, hoping to show he was curious. Whatever her reaction be after was cut short when Mack started speaking again, mumbled under his breath as he pushed the fine-looking hat he found up on his head, but almost loud enough like he hoped Murphy would hear.

 

"My guess. Asshole."

 

Real mature. 'Course Mack wasn't going to be on his side, but at the moment, Murphy could give two shits less. Mack wasn't too prime in his life anyhow. He'd try to save the younger man, but when worse comes to worse, Mack never meant all that much to him in the first place.

 

Pulling himself away from the three young adults huddled in the corner together, he turned his attention back to 10K. The kid's eyes were distant again, staring into oblivion and lost in thought.

 

Dammit. He thought he finally pulled 10K out of that trance yesterday. Not that it was doing him any good now, that being their first 'bonding' experience of talking to one another. That is, before Blake decided to kick the shit out of him. Murphy would be the first to admit that the black and blue bruise running up his knee in blossoming dark shades still hurt like a bitch. And, inevitably, made the few in the truck bed even more wary of him and Blake, right after Murphy had tried to move away from that.

 

Figures.

 

Knowing 10K wasn't going to look his direction anytime soon, or even focus on him at the moment, Murphy's hand raised in front of the kid's face without a second thought. "Hey, you in La La Land again or something?"  He wagged his fingers daringly close to 10K's eyes, receiving the attention he was looking for after a whole minute passed.

 

Definitely in La La Land then.

 

10K was quick to slap down his fingers, pushing Murphy's hand away from his face; eyes glaring back at him with a piercing stare. There we go. Back on track.

 

Now that he had the kid's attention, he just had to spark up a conversation. Simple and easy, right? Murphy had always been known to be the charismatic one-- time in prison or not, so the prospect of talking to people wasn't that hard for him. Talking, ranging to a whole spectrum of manipulating, charming, flattering, and the bunch, but point was,  Murphy had his ways.

 

When that comes to a brooding, zombie-killing, teenage sniper who had a Vendetta against him since day one, Murphy was as lost as the next guy.

 

Murphy was observant in his own right, more than some of the others actually noticed. There were times he chose to be, and times he could care less, but knowing and seeing a situation played hand in hand on getting someone to open up to you. Or even, in any case, could help with turning the situation back into his own control when it goes haywire.

 

Noticing humanity's far off the deep end of being saved was different from having a casual conversation with a kid who hates your guts, so Murphy had opted to use a different tactic.

 

He had taken it upon himself to watch Doc, seeing as how him and 10K were a constant in becoming close with one another. The older man was kind, gentle, and held a sense of humor about himself that contrasted from Murphy's blunt humor. Doc was just that type of guy who had a way of making everyone present feel at ease and safe. Murphy knew he could never pull a stunt like that off, and with vigilant sniper beside him, Murphy sure as hell knew that changing his attitude out of the blue would raise suspicions.

 

So there was no pulling the wool over anybody's eyes today, and Murphy despised how limited his options were.

 

10K was still glaring at him, keeping a fair distance between them as his body defensively turned towards Murphy. His hands weren't reaching for his gun, which was a good sign on Murphy's part, but his eyes never wavered in his mistrusting gaze, making it all the more harder on Murphy.

 

There wasn't anywhere for Murphy to go now. His first decsion was to try and convince 10K to be his friend this time, but other than that, he had no plan on how. Murphy knew more than enough about 10K, courtesy on having to spend years on end with him, and then being in his head two years after. (Three, disregarding the mess that was blatantly forgotten by most everyone but Murphy)

 

He knew the kid's likes and dislikes. He remembered learning about hunting excursions or fishing tips by 10K's father. His passion for shooting, and indecisively looking at forms to sign up for any branch in the military. There were so many things he knew about 10K, and yet so many he wasn't supposed to know.

 

Starting a conversation with personal information that was supposed to be undisclosed would be a faster way to get a bullet to the skull than actually turning into a zombie.

 

So, it was safe to say Murphy had no clue in hell what he was doing. He was trapped in a box, gapping like a fish as 10K's eyes bore irritated and yet curiously on him. Any sort of sentence that Murphy was trying to form fell flat on his tongue, and finding it was worthless to even try, he just gave up.

 

Murphy pushed himself back against the wall, straightening his back so that it was pressed against the wall next to 10K and not hunched over towards the concrete flooring. He ran a hand over his thinning dark hair, knowing in a few weeks it would fall out anyway. He wasn't surprised to pull a small clump out, but disregarded it with a brash sigh, pulling his eyes back up to look at 10K's.

 

"Listen…"God, where was he supposed to bring this? There was no option for a conversation, and with the kid's already pissed attitude towards him, Murphy knew he was bound to not go far anyhow. Would it work better if he just bit the bullet and reel 10K's angers away? "About the Twinkie the other day."

 

Murphy grimaced when 10K's face fell some, that mistrustful look quickly turning into contemplation and confusion. Murphy couldn't care to realize, kicking himself for the failed attempt at starting a conversation. God, he hated starting with apologies. He was never good at it, and probably never would be, but here he was with his half-assed attempt at one.

 

"Probably wasn't the nicest thing to do." Murphy still tried his damndest though, huffing out another breath, praying a zombie would break down the door and save him from whatever he did to deserve this misery. "It wasn't that good, if I'm being honest. You didn't miss out on much."

 

There, simple and easy. He apologized about the Twinkie, so it should stop from rattling on 10K's nerves. Get them back on track, and away from the kid turning to Blake's side of whatever friendship she was forcing on them.

 

There was a long moment that 10K didn't say anything. Just stared at him like he had gone completely insane. Murphy could feel himself nearly shrinking under the weight of the gaze more than he would like to admit. It took a minute for 10K to look away, green eyes turning back over towards Warren and Garnett, the slightest of a scoff leaving his lips.

 

God damn it. Could the universe ever give him a break?

 

"So I'm taking that as, 'We are not good.'?" Murphy tried, resisting the urge to hit his head repeatedly, because it was like pulling teeth with trying to talk to this kid.

 

10K refused to acknowledge him for another moment, and in times like these, Murphy had to wonder how much time was really passing. 10K's eyes darted across the room, giving Murphy the indication that he wasn't pulled back into his thoughts again.

 

"I don't care about the Twinkie." He mumbled out, just under his breath so Murphy was the only one that could hear it. Despite the volume, Murphy could make out traces of annoyance laced within the tone, but nothing otherwise to tell him that the kid was lying.

 

If the damn Twinkie wasn't the problem, what did he do wrong to get on the kid's nerves this early on?

 

"So then what's got your boxers all in a bunch?" Murphy couldn't help but voice his thoughts aloud, abruptly turning towards 10K.

 

10K was quick to turn back towards him, not as defensive as he was before, but on high alert enough to be stiff. His shoulders were tense, his eyes narrowed as they flitted over Murphy's form.

 

"What do you want?" 10K countered back, ignoring Murphy's previous question, but he wouldn't let it go so easily.

 

"I wanna know what I did that made you so pissy." He could feel his own voice rising some, agitation growing like all the other times he would hang around 10K. Something about the kid always got on his nerves. Always, even for years and years of being together. Murphy wouldn’t compare it to siblings getting angry at each other, far from it actually, but as much as he hated the kid, a part of him still cared to keep him safe.

 

So, he tried his best to calm his nerves, bringing down his tone of voice as 10K looked away, eyes falling to the corner of the room, unfocused on nothing in particular. It took Murphy a moment to decide if he was pulled back into his trance again before 10K abruptly let his shoulders fall. The tenseness that was held there loosened as 10K's back hit the wall again, a tiny thud filling in the silence for the terse conversation.

 

"How'd you know about the baby?"

 

The sudden change of topics caught Murphy off guard, his eyes widening as he mumbled out a bewildered "what?". 10K didn't clarify, his eyes expectantly following Murphy like the topic switch was normal.

 

Which, if Murphy really thought about it, probably was. 10K was never really much of a speaker in their group. Sure, as the years went on, he'd managed to open up a bit more. Crack a joke here, explain a story there. He'd carry out a few conversations with more than a couple sentences, or even start some of his own with the group.

 

In the beginning years of meeting the group, 10K rarely opened up towards them. His conversations were either replies to commands or questions. He wouldn't dance around a topic unless it was a sensitive matter, remaining more curt or brief in his conversations. The change in direction for the conversation was more 10K-like than Murphy remembered. His emotions were closed off, but his thoughts were to the point.

 

Murphy sighed, picking at his eyes to get any weariness and longing for sleep out. "What do you mean, 'How'd I know about the baby?'" He asked again, a little louder and more exasperated than before.

 

Of all the things he thought were riding on 10K's nerves, this wasn't one of them.

 

A short moment passed as 10K looked at him, and Murphy could nearly see the dark bags weighing down his youthful face. Green eyes falling slightly, but never enough to drift to sleep.

 

"There wasn't one." The kid finally replied, eyes scanning Murphy over, trying to find something off that Murphy wasn't telling him. Murphy played that game too many times before to be fooled by the look.

 

His eyebrows scrunched together, processing over the words. There wasn't one. There wasn't a baby in the car. There wasn't a baby in the area. There was, Murphy knew as much from the past life, but something changed that made it leave. Which made it all the more weirder because the car had recently crashed into the building, the driver just killed by the impact, and the buckle just undone from the empty car seat.

 

But in the end, there wasn't a baby, and 10K had been there to see it. He knew Murphy was hiding some truth from the group, and from it, had 10K on edge. In the right mind, Murphy would have been happy to have another member suspicious of the Time Travel stunt pulled off by the Risen, but with that suspicion came mistrust.

 

And that mistrust just happened to fall on Murphy.

 

"Would've known, wouldn't you? Stalking around the roofs and all." Murphy motioned with a circle in the air, the slightest of a smirk falling on his lips. There were times to bring the time travel stuff up, and times when it would do more harm than good. He didn't have enough of the sniper's trust to really reveal the bigger picture without sounding like a lunatic, so copping out was the best Murphy could do.

 

And believe him, Murphy knew how to do that.

 

10K's face flushed red in embarrassment with being caught, just as it had all those years in the past life when Murphy caught him prowling around the lab, keeping an eye out to make sure he didn't get into any trouble. It was the familiarity that caused Murphy's mood to soften, relaxing his shoulders as a sigh left him. The life he remembered was one he was burdened to repeat, and there was no going back now.

 

"You saw me?" 10K's voice was more of a whisper, but Murphy caught the rise of a question in his tone.

 

" ' You're not the most stealthy all the time.' ".  Whatever hope he had that the reference would remind 10K of the past life quickly unraveled into disappointment. The kid's eyebrows creased again, no sign of recognition lining his features as he started at Murphy. It was a useless attempt to even try, but someday, somehow, Murphy had a small glint of hope that it could actually work.

 

He let out a sigh, refocusing his attention to the grey wall in front of him, running his hand back down his face. "Yeah, I saw you, kid.  Wasn't too hard." Murphy hesitated, getting no verbal response back from 10K other than the tiniest bit of shuffling on the rough, gravely floor. "Saw the car seat too." Tread lightly, work carefully. "Isn't too much of a long-shot to guess a kid was strapped in there."

 

There was too much of a risk to say he knew a child was dying in the car, especially when that child hadn't even been in the car this time around. It warranted too many questions that he couldn’t answer without disbelieving scoffs and risks to future relationships. If he wanted to reveal the time travel feat, he had to choose his times carefully and his words wisely. Build up suspicion, don't drag it down, but don't make it too obvious.

 

It was harder than he thought to do the last one when this whole damn mission revolved around time travel being obvious in their efforts. As much was already proven with 10K's premature wariness.

 

It was only when Murphy looked back that 10K lowered his head into his hands, shallow breaths leaving his lanky body pressed against the wall. He could see the relief flood over the kid, shoulders falling to his side, and what only could be described as an 'I'm not crazy' breathy laugh slightly shaking his body.

 

A part of Murphy felt that he did more harm than good, that he was leading 10K away from the big reveal that he was planning, but it was too late now to go back. What he said had been true. He had seen the car seat in the past life, and it was easy to guess that a baby would be buckled inside. He had known 10K would be on the roof, so spotting him wasn't hard either.

 

But it was easy for it to get misinterpreted when the circumstances were ludacris.

 

10K lifted his head to look at him, rubbing his eye sockets until they were red, the heavy bags and dark circles fading into the new color. It was clear enough that even the least observant could see 10K hadn't been getting sleep, if any at all. Murphy didn't exactly remember that, but then again, he didn't care to notice. The difference between noticing and caring were enough to make Murphy scream, making it all the more difficult to come to a conclusion with how much he changed.

 

"I gotta question for you." The words left his mouth before he could stop it, cringing immediately but he caught himself, bringing that grimace into a raised eyebrow and curious stare. 10K's head turned towards him again, gently titling to the side to show his interest. There wasn't any annoyance or irritation, just pure fatigue drained from the day's (hell, even week's) events.

 

"Have you been getting any sleep recently?" Maybe, just maybe, there was the slightest concern that Murphy felt towards the kid, but Murphy would never like to admit to it. That being said, he knew how to work people, and making people like you meant you had to delve into emotions you'd rather not reveal. He let that subtle concern linger on his face, and no matter how manipulative it would seem, it was enough to make 10K think he cared more than he did. " 'Cuz you look like shit."

 

It felt like a bar conversation, sitting beside an almost acquaintance and conversing on light topics. The conversation would be usual, stating the norm and letting silence overcome them any time they'd take a sip or a swig of their drinks. It wouldn't matter though, because it would be enough to lure them in, drawing their attention just enough to bring up their sleep deprived appearance with a sly grin on his face and take a sip from his mojito.

 

And then he'd probably get punched in the face, but that didn't happen here. 10K's eyebrows had risen in confusion before his eyes had dropped to a glare. There was nothing harsh in his stare, but nothing friendly either. It was more of an exasperated look, but in some ways, taking the comment with an air of contentment.

 

"Yeah." 10K admitted, forgetting the following comment, or maybe he didn't. He let his eyes close, less on high alert as a deep breath racketed his chest, almost shaky in a sense.

 

Murphy let himself nod, taking 10K's more vulnerable positions into his mental notes. "I figured." He hummed, leaning back down towards the floor with a weak groan. "Bad dreams?"

 

It was a long shot to even ask that question and expect an answer, especially with only supposedly knowing 10K for about two weeks now, so he wasn't too surprised when the question got shot down. The sniper's eye cracked open some, studying Murphy as intense as a man looking under the microscope. He felt the need to raise his hands slightly in defense, backing down almost immediately.

 

"Okay, okay, I get it. Touchy subject-- won't go there."

 

10K's demeanor eased some, relaxing back against the wall, but keeping his eyes pinned back on Murphy, still analyzing his every move. "What about you?" He mumbled after a moment, just as quiet as before, unwilling for anyone to hear.

 

It took a moment for Murphy to register it, that 10K had actually asked a simple question back towards him in an effort to get to know more about him. Not snarky or mean. Nothing hateful. Curious and friendly and different, that for a moment, Murphy didn't exactly catch up to it.

 

Guess being nice pays off after all.

 

"What? You think I look like shit?" And that was in fact true, and Murphy knew it right well. He looked like shit the day the zombies decided to make a meal of him, both times, and it was clearly reflected across his features. A decaying body, peeling skin shedding like a snake and large gashes across his chest that have yet to heal. His eyes were turning the speckled gold he never understood, leaving that aqua blue that had shone brightly before the zombies led them into Hell. His teeth were rotting and any body fat that Pre-Apocalypse citizens would have complained about was one that Murphy cherished to try and keep. He looked beyond what shit was, more than most others, but there were few that had the audacity to comment on it.

 

10K was not one of them.

 

The most the sniper would do was let his eyes trail over Murphy's form, quirking his scarred eyebrow just slightly in a way Murphy knew meant a definite yes. It wasn't said, but traveling with the kid for so long, it was easy to understand his expressions.

 

Murphy scoffed, shaking his head. It almost felt fond to do so, despite the fact that it would have grated on his nerves last time. It would have been a button pushed after everything he had to deal with to only have some kid judge his appearance. Now, the gesture almost felt natural, calming like the interaction wasn't one to jeer or start arguments.

 

"Nothing new." Murphy shrugged. "Not many beauty standards in the apocalypse anymore. Wouldn't really care if there was one." He liked to wear whatever he damn well pleased, outrageous or not. His style was his own, not what the world held the perfect shirt or dress code to be.

 

He noticed as 10K briefly let his gaze turn towards Addy at the 'beauty standards', then turning to Blake right after like there was some kind of meaning behind it. Whatever it was, 10K turned too quickly back towards him, that Murphy didn't have time to make assumptions.

 

10K gave a final shrug before his shoulders slugged in exhaustion as his body was back against the wall, content to be relaxed in the Zombie Bitten Survivor's presence. It was the change of pace Murphy was looking for, and despite it being where he wanted it, there was too much at risk that he could ruin the moment.

 

He let his hand pat down on 10K's shoulder hesitantly, and even when the kid was looking directly at him, he startled some at the abrupt touch. Murphy only decided to draw away after he was up off the ground, hoping the action was less awkward. He may have earned more of 10K's trust tonight, and the starting of some sort of hopeful friendship, but there was always a way he could mess it up. He got as far as he wanted, and pushing it wouldn't make ends meet, so leaving it as is was the best he could do.

 

But ending the conversation was always preferable.

 

"Get some sleep." It was more of a command rather than a worried concern, but Murphy liked playing close to his own books more than someone else's. "I've had nephews, and I'm tired of pain in the ass teenagers running off of four hours of sleep."

 

--- line break ---

 

To say he didn't get an earful from Blake that night was an understatement, but Murphy could care less to listen after a certain point.  Her constant complaining and worrying that he was 'corrupting' or giving the wrong idea of the group, was all the more tiresome, and all the more repetitive.

 

"What did you say?"

 

"Why would you care?"

 

"I swear to God, Murphy. I'm tired of playing at this angle. You've read the rules, you've held the note in your hand. If you even think about trying to turn them against me--"

 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, Sweetheart."

 

He had been quick to brush her off with a hand wave, falling against the corner of the wall near Doc. The older man had already drifted to sleep near hours ago, but Murphy was content to stay close to his friend, barely listening to Warren and Garnett's banter and planning. His last sight, before his eyelids fell heavily and the warm sense of sleep fled over him, had been Blake hurriedly making her way towards the teenage sniper curled up in the corner.

 

He would've had the mind to stop her, but Murphy knew he had already exhausted 10K's patience enough with their little conversation, and having Blake rush over would only make 10K more agitated and confused. So he had let it go, receiving a rude awakening in the morning with Warren kicking his feet and throwing a bag against his chest.

 

"Get up, Sleeping Beauty. The buildings clear for now, so let's take our chance while we have it people." Her voice was quieter, but commanding all the same.

 

He grumbled in reply, allowing a quick betrayed look to pass over his face before Warren shot it down with a raised eyebrow. "I knew you always thought I was beautiful."

 

Morning or night, Murphy knew his charming personality would always shine through. Whether the group was willing to adhere to it, morning or night, was a whole different story.

 

A quick laugh escaped Warren, caught off guard from the comment, but only momentarily. "Don't get too cocky on me now." He couldn't tell if it was a tease, a piece of the Warren he had grown to know and learn about over the years, or if it was pure coincidence that the comment sounded so much like the Warren that had died a Blend. "Now get your ass up. We don't have all day for you to get your beauty rest."

 

So he had, reluctantly, following the group as they made their way out of the building. True to her word, the pack of zombies they had been running from last night had scattered to find another poor soul out in the open, leaving a few Zs here and there to be taken care of. It was light work, but they were reprimanded for using firearms, so it was all melee weapons until they reached the truck.

 

Murphy still could say he hated his stupid throwing knife.

 

Regardless, the group made it to the truck as safe as they could, managing to attract the hoard they lost and somehow succeeding in hightailing it the hell out of there. From there, the road trip through Hell continued on mostly unperpetrated. No stops. No restroom breaks. No fun activities or laughter, or really even any excitement in reaching a destination. All the group thought about, from as much as Murphy could make of it, was that they were diving headfirst into a suicide mission with a highly likely outcome that would be unfavorable.

 

Murphy doesn't blame them either. First time around, he thought they were doomed. There was no hope. There wasn't any reason he could think of that the mission for humanity was just what the name entitled it to be. After being dragged down a hall screaming for your life, getting strapped to a table, injected, and then left for dead with gruesome beasts feeding on you like all all-you-can-eat-buffet-- Murphy could find no reason that it would work, or even that it was worth it.

 

Because, really, what had humanity done that deemed it worth saving?

 

Recent experiences and times in the past life easily played into his question, but that wasn't Murphy's dilemma anymore. Humanity was shit, overrated to some degree, that saving them was hopeless. Somewhere down the line, history will manage to repeat. People would be just as bad as they were Pre-Z, if not worse with the taste of freedom the Apocalypse offered. Murphy's main goal was to save the group, his daughter, the family that had somehow been built through the pure torture the world threw at them for years on end.

 

And he would save them. From the zombies, their deaths, the Risen, and Blake. He was certain and capable; just enough that the dream he imagined could become the reality that he wanted.

 

Except, right now, they weren't in fantasy land, and the vision he formed was one he had to get to. Zoning out, however, wasn't helping his case in the slightest.

 

Murphy's eyes trialed out the window from the center seat he found himself wedged in. It was far too cramped for his liking, but the only thing Murphy couldn't find himself complaining about was that Blake wasn't seated beside him. The thing he could complain about though, was that she was in the truck bed with Addy, Mack, and 10K, meaning all the progress he worked up with them could easily be torn down by the Risen member without him around to stop it.

 

But that wasn't on his mind. The big green and white sign that read in big letters "WELCOME TO OHIO" was what caught his attention. Back in the past life, Warren and Garnett decided to skirt around the state, taking only an hour or so to look for any other possible air transportation before giving up and heading down to the lower parts of Indiana. They didn't stay long in the couple states, finally making the stop at Warren's home state before losing Garnett at their next major pit stop. Traveling through Ohio, making their way into the state, hadn't been the plan last time.

 

He leaned over Doc, getting a better view of the sign just in case he accidently mistook it. The chance was slim and Murphy's disappointment was overruled by his confusion.

 

"Mind telling me why we're making out way through Yankee Ohio again?" He was sure he hadn't heard the group plotting it, but he would admit he had been zoning out more than usual lately, so the possibility of being told and forgetting it could be true.

 

Warren's eyes briefly followed him in the rearview mirror, lips pursed slightly with contemplation. Garnett was the one to turn around, hand falling over the headrest, seatbelt pulling against his body so that he could turn to look towards Murphy.

 

"We're running low on ammo. 10K used the rest of his back in West Virgina, and the rest of us have been out for a while now." Garnett's answer, although informative on what Murphy already knew, was still too concise to count as anything done different.

 

"And Ohio was the best you could think of?" How the hell had he managed to make the group change direction this time around? Running low on ammo wasn't really an option because in all honesty, what would they be looking in Ohio for?

 

Warren's eyes weren't staring at him anymore, focused solely on the road as she tilted her head backwards a bit to know she was addressing him. " Hammond said some outpost base was there-"

 

"Home Falls." Garnett informed.

 

"-I'm guessing he was trying to get you there as a secondary option for help." Warren continued, eyes falling back on the mirror to get confirmation from Murphy. He didn't nod in return.

 

Hammond. Of course it was Hammond. This time around, everything felt like it was being haunted by Goddamn Hammond.

 

"If we can get there, they might be able to help us out too."

 

A slight shifting in the seat beside him and a quiet chuckle drew Murphy's attention to Doc; the older man leaning against Warren's seat with a smile on his face. "Hey, maybe they might even be able to take Murphy here to Cali instead." The brief silence of a few grunts from Garnett and Warren were interrupted when Doc looked over his shoulder towards Murphy. "No offense, man. Not that I'd want to leave you, it's just…" He struggled for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse from the looks of it, before giving up. "I just really don't wanna die this early, y'know?"

 

He'd rather Doc didn't die this early either, but taking detours from what he remembered from the past life wasn't helping in his favor. Getting help from people that he didn't know the motives of this time wasn't something he particularly enjoyed either.

 

Murphy gave a grumble in reply, refraining from answering back.

 

"Wouldn't call this 'early', Doc." It was a slight tease in Garnett's voice that made his smile look more genuine. "Three years is more like a decade now."

 

Doc gave as much of a shrug as he could, being crammed against Murphy and the car door. "Made a bet with Jacobs I'd still be kicking it until the fifth year."

 

Well, he won that bet.

 

"You know Jacobs is dead, right?" Warren's tone was a bit more cautious, a bit more emotional over the fact of their whole camp burning in ashes and infested with zombies.

 

"No, no. I know that!" It was more of an indignant response, raising his hands slightly to show he hadn't lost his mind more than the apocalypse warranted. "But a bet's a bet. I ain't losing it now."

 

And Murphy would make sure that bet upheld longer than it had in the past life.

 

The car ride was as silent as Murphy remembered the early days to be. Tiny conversations and a little chatter filtered through the air, but everything was too neutral. Everything relied on the mission at hand. With Murphy being the odd one out and feelings of mistrust being displayed to more than just one member of the group, Operation Bitemark remained silent on everything Murphy remembered hearing them go on about.

 

The silence crept its way into the car for too long. Murphy could hear his heart beating in his ears, uneven breathes leaving his mouth the closer they neared to the destination Garnett was directing Warren in. This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to go this way.

 

More questions spiraled through his mind, drowning out the world around him. What if they're walking into a trap? What if one of them dies? What if Blake takes his lack of knowledge into her hands, using it against him and the group?

 

What if Home Falls takes the mission out of the group's hands?

 

Murphy couldn't protect them then. He didn't know what their futures would hold when they are on the other side of the country. He knew how to handle the mission in the past life. What he didn't know was how to handle the changes that were made. The changes of losing them and getting separated. The changes of how much they trusted and didn't trust him.

 

The changes that could kill them.

 

"Careful everyone. We don't know how well they take to visitors, so keep your guard up." Warren's voice slowly filtered into his thoughts, creeping to the forefront of his mind like a diminishing fog. It only felt like minutes compared to the hours they had been driving. Had he really zoned off that long?

 

He had to do a double take, looking out the window on Cassandra's side to see tall chain linked fence enclose the area. Guard towers about ten feet high stood randomly spread across the little town. Buildings poked out from above the fence, rundown convivence stores and makeshift retail buildings in to whatever the survivors required.

 

A group of guards stood at the entrance, weapons positioned on the truck, stances tall and strong like soldiers on a battlefield. Murphy wasn't all too surprised to see Garnett exit the truck first, hands raised in surrender to show he meant no harm. He could hear the guards yell something, motioning their guns towards the ground and back towards Garnett.

 

Garnett obliged the command, getting down on his knees as he flicked his wrist slightly back towards the truck, presumably to say he came with a group. Like that wasn't obvious before, genius. The guards patted him down as he spoke, and Murphy could only imagine that he was telling them about Hammond and the mission.

 

A few heads turned towards the truck, eyebrows raised in confusion or drawn in alarm before someone walked closer to the truck, her gun still aimed at them.

 

The rickety truck they were using was still running, rumbling softly underneath them as the woman neared. She left some slack on where she was holding the gun so timidly on them, motioning with her other hand for Warren to roll down the window. Warren nodded, despite the dark glass that obscured the woman's vision.

 

The window creaked as it rolled down slowly, just reaching the edge of the metal before the woman spoke. "Step out of the car. One at a time." Her voice was accented a slightly thicker accent compared to Sun Mei. Her eyes narrowed; lips parted as she nervously moved between each foot. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, single strands falling down her face.

 

She was young, around Addy's age if anything, but she stood her ground despite the quiver in her voice.

 

They all exited as calmly as they could muster, the four in the back jumping down with a grace to show they meant no harm. Whether it was a part of the request or not, they all raised their hands near their heads, albeit reluctantly, keeping their weapons in view but out of hand.

 

The group of guards were quick to check them over, moving their weapons away from them. A few of Operation Bitemark grumbled in protest, but Murphy was the only one to voice his opinions aloud.

 

"Hey! We can't protect ourselves out here without those." They were still, quite literally, outside in the open. If a zombie or a hoard came from behind, they were as good as gone without protection.

 

A male guard neared closer, a scowl across his rugged face. "You'll get them back. Calm down. This is for our safety."

 

Their safety at the expense of the group's.

 

Murphy did not, in fact, calm down. He wasn't about to be told off so easily, down on his knees with his hands in the air and his weapon too far out of his reach. Warren, however, was not in the mood to take his bullshit.

 

"Excuse him." Her eyes pinned on his, daring him to say another word. "He gets paranoid easily."

 

The man gave a breathy laugh, short between a chuckle and a scoff. His blonde hair hung messily down his face, contrasting from the neat haircuts most of the others had. He pushed a strand to the side, scars revealing themselves adjacent across his face. Worry lines and stress wrinkles dug into his pale skin, defining age that wasn't supposed to be there.

 

"We all do, nowadays, don't we?" He lowered his gun down to his side, green eyes scanning over the group before falling on Garnett again. Murphy took his gambit that this man was the leader among the guards. "Is he the one that Lieutenant Hammond was transporting?"

 

Garnett gave a nod, flexing his fingers that were falling asleep and sore from keeping them up so long. "Yes sir, he is. We believed that Hammond may have been coming here to ask for help in transporting Murphy to California."

 

The man hummed, the scowl gone as he thoughtfully looked among the group again, eyes falling on Murphy this time with a strikingly analyzing precision. " Yes, well, I don't believe we had been Lieutenant Hammond's main outpost that he would search for help at. We heard rumors of a military group in need of help, but never heard anything of a mission."

 

His voice was calm, gun completely abandoned and yet held safely at his side, deeming they were no threat. Unsurprisingly to Murphy, that didn't mean they were allowed to get up.

 

Murphy could see the frown crawl onto Garnett's face, eyebrows knitting together some. "I understand, sir. I promise we will be out of your hair, but I need to know if there is any way you could help us." There was a pleading in Garnett's voice that broke through the calm demeanor he tried to withhold.

 

The calm man's eyes lingered on Murphy for a few seconds longer, but they weren't as concentrated as they were before. Not as much as 10K was when he zoned off, but seeming to be lost in his thoughts. It took a moment before he snapped out of it, head turning back towards Garnett's direction.

 

"I believe we can, yes."  The scar moved with his smile, and as much as Murphy hated to admit it, he saw no ill intent in the man's actions. Believe it or not, that worried him the most. "Not out here, and not with me. I'll get who you need." The man motioned for them to get up, turning towards one of the younger male guards near the fence. "Get them to building 1A for me, will you?"

 

The gentleness of the situation was giving Murphy more of an uneasy feeling, rather than a calm one. Isn’t this how all cult leaders talk and act. Calm but freakin' bastards in the end?

 

"Yes, sir." The male guard (who Murphy delightedly nicknamed Guard 10) replied with military form and ease, nodding his head as he motioned for the group to follow.

 

They were all but pushed up off the ground, finally being allowed to grab their weapons again, before they followed Guard 10 through the fenced gates. The metal screeched with its movements, whining as it was quickly closed back up, scraping the dirt and grass underneath it. Guard 10 didn't talk through the whole walk, leaving a thick, awkward silence to rest among them. The supposed cult leader man of the guard group still remained with his team outside the fence, speaking in hushed whispers with one another before he patted the younger woman on the back and entered the fenced area. Instead of catching up to them, he went the opposite way, jogging along the fence line and disappearing behind one of the rundown buildings.

 

The silence allowed for wary looks to be passed around. One from Warren to Garnett. Doc to Warren; Addy to Mack to Blake, and so on. It was unnerving to walk so quietly through an unknown area with little to no information on what you're walking into. Citizens of Camp Home Falls slowly stopped what they were doing, anxious looks across their faces. Mothers hid their child behind their backs, those with weapons let their hands hover safely beside their firearms. It was worse than entering Camp Blue Sky again, in Murphy's opinion.

 

Nonetheless, he let himself look over the groups of civilians who cowered beside objects or held loved ones close protectively. He didn't recognize any faces, and all the military personnel scattered across the area didn't ring a bell either. Their names plastered against their uniforms as they stood tall beside the frightened people.  

 

Hammond had talked about a few members of a team he knew that had gone MIA a few months after he rescued Murphy. A few names slipped here and there, but none of these men sported the names Murphy remembered.

 

His eyes trailed along the younger people of the camp. Not the children hiding behind their caretakes, but the young adults and teenagers that shifted nervously, shaking slightly with their hands rested against their weapons. They were terrified of something, newcomers possibly, but the reaction seemed so unwarranted when the man up front let them in without much of a problem.

 

Two of the shaking young adults caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A male and female, near the same age and so familiar to Murphy that he almost stumbled. He remembered them as his Blends in Toivo. The two children to Markson, the Sergeant of a group that consisted of his two kids in it. The whole team had lost against his Blend forces, most dying while the others became his Blends to fight on his side.

 

The male, strong shoulders pulled straight back in alarm, stretching the dirty cloth of a tattered brown shirt that was tucked into his holey jeans. His brown hair was in a military cut, stubbles growing back at the sides as the top laid messily. Thin lips pulled into a frown as his hazel eyes widened, chest desperately trying to even out in his breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

 

David. The one who had died on the battlefield to save his sister from an oncoming Talker that hadn't been fed. The Blends had idiotically shot him when they saw no other form of mercy at the time.

 

David's arms were outstretched to shield his sister, protectively wrapped in front of her as she held her gun in-between the two of them. Unlike the last time Murphy saw her, her hair was messily cut to a stubble, certain blotches thicker than others. Stiches and scars ran through the lesser amounts of hair, looking to be redder and irritated compared to the sunburns lining the rest of her exposed light brown skin.

 

Ava. The one that had been saved, taken to shelter to become one of his Blends. The one who had mourned her brother and cried over her father fighting a war over the peace she was given.

 

There was no recognition in their eyes that they remembered him, but there was a certain fear that radiated off of them like everyone else in the camp. Murphy knew Ava to be strong, gaining more confidence the more she worked alongside of him. He knew David to be fearless, Ava making that clear through every thought she had.

 

Whatever was scaring these people wasn't something Murphy was looking forward to.

 

His concentration was disrupted when they were led into the building, presumably A1, Murphy all but being pushed out of his daydreaming. He had the right mind to turn back to the guard that pushed him, but, of course, Warren had noticed, shoving him forward as well with a jab to the side.

 

"Behave." The whisper was harsh but quiet enough that only he and her could hear it.

 

"Have a little faith in me, Warren." He retorted just as quietly, less stern and more bold.

 

Guard 10 didn't wait up for them, pushing two double doors open, leading into a larger room filled with seats and tables. Windows enveloped each wall of the room, shrouded by blinds and blankets to keep people from seeing in or out. Minimal books rested on the various bookshelves lined around the room, offering to look more as a decoration than a makeshift library.

 

There were mismatched chairs placed around the room, ranging from blue, flower designed loveseats to black, curved arms chairs. Wooden tables were pushed against the peach-colored walls, scattered items put randomly across it. It was a whole hodgepodge mess for the apocalypse that looked oddly reminiscent of a waiting room.

 

The guard stopped in the middle of the room, leaving the group to stand awkwardly in the doorway until they were given any further instructions. Which Guard 10 refused to give for another good minute or so. Instead, he turned to an older man sitting on a rocking chair, long white hair hanging in his face as he moved back and forth.

 

You ever see picture of the insane and unaware, mumbling mumbo-jumbo to themselves as they sat by themselves in the dark corner of a room? Same vibes as Murphy was getting here.

 

"Mr. Reed," Guard 10 finally spoke, deep voice contrasting from his smaller, more younger frame. "You've been allowed to leave for hours now." As if that wasn't enough to prod Mr. Reed to move, Guard 10 raised an exasperated eyebrow, motioning over towards the closed double doors. "You can go."

 

Murphy waited for Reed to look up, but let's be honest, he didn't expect it. The elder looked too far gone to speak a full sentence, much less give attention to what Guard 10 was saying.

 

To say it surprised him when Reed did, in fact, look up, and did, in fact, speak, was an understatement.

 

"Yes…yes." Reed's voice trailed when he saw Operation Bitemark, thick grey eyebrows scrunched as his mouth fell into a deeper frown. "But to leave means I can't go back, hm? I'll be found."

 

What didn't surprise him was the nonsense that spewed from Reed's mouth. Back to his earlier assumption, Reed was off the walls crazy.

 

Guard 10 seemed unfazed; most likely having heard the same gibberish for a while now. He pointed to the door, voice stern and without question. "Leave."

 

By some miracle, Reed got up, face somehow contorting into a deeper frown. He grumbled and grunted halfway through standing, back and knees popping enough that it made Murphy's own joints ache. He sighed when he finally got up, the room deathly quiet as he shuffled towards the doors, feet dragging like leaving the room was his banishment from safety.

 

Reed turned towards Guard 10 one last time, seeming like he was going to ask to stay again, but instead put a hand on the guard's shoulder, giving the group a side glance before speaking to the guard. "Thank you."

 

He turned to leave just as quickly as he was before, slowly moseying his way across the room and towards the door. The group parted for him to move, eyeing him cautiously with each step he took. He only stopped one more time, hand resting against the door as he turned towards Warren, whispering something none of the others could hear. The most Murphy could make of it, from the way Reed's mouth moved, was only more baffling to the man's unhinged behavior.

 

"People don't usually stay in here."

 

---Line break---

 

Blake's POV:

 

She couldn't help as her leg bounced against the tight leather fabric of the chair she was sitting on. Her hands rubbing together anxiously as her eyes scanned the mixed matched room. The whole place felt unsettling, from the quietness that they were led in to the older man speaking. Nothing felt right.

 

Then again, for as long as Blake could remember, nothing ever felt right anymore.

 

Everything about the place was putting her on edge, and the fact that it was a military outpost was even more alarming. Not to say Blue Sky wasn't-- for God's sake, she knew it was started by a National Guard, but Blue Sky was an exception. Blake had been to a couple camps and outposts in the past life. Enough of them to see its occupants turn or run. She was no stranger to military personnel watching over the camp, but that had been near the west coast, not the east coast.

 

She didn't know who was here, and the thing that scared her most was that that could mean some of the higher ups in the Risen could be here too. Not just the commanders or their Sergeants that had been assigned to lead a group of recruits. Despite the lack of information on who use to be the 'Leaders' of the Risen, she knew that they were all in the military at some point and had saved countless lives during the apocalypse despite the military falling through.

 

And if the Leaders weren't here, there was no telling where Jackson or Markson could be. The blank eyes that lost that comforting presence and that cruel smile at the ordering of the execution of the Blends in Toivo. They may not remember the past life, but they were still those people that she left. That hidden grief, that hatred, just lurking below the surface.

 

The guard that had been leading them (Jesser, from what Blake heard the other guards calling him) had told the group to make themselves comfortable, saying the wait may be long. To retrieve a person and debrief them on a situation seemed as if it should take hardly thirty minutes, but it was an hour later and the group was still sitting around.

 

Or, it felt like an hour. There wasn't actually a clock and Blake had lost track of counting the minutes after getting to ten.

 

Most of the group was sitting around the room. Doc had taken it upon himself to grab a book, one that seemed to be more…different from the rest randomly placed across the shelves. 10K and Cassandra, sitting on opposite corners of the room from one another, were taking in the situation like Blake was, eyes falling to each and every part of the room. They didn't seem as nervous, but for the two weeks Blake had been with them and the time she spent trying to research them, they seemed far less likely to willingly show unnecessary vulnerability.

 

Addy and Mack were on the loveseat, Mack's arm resting across the back of the couch, rubbing the nape of his neck, eyes lost in thought as they fixated on the covered window. Only a little light was shining through, their only light source to see being the skylight above them. Even then the dark clouds were rolling in above. Contrasted from her boyfriend, Addy was upside on her side of the loveseat, feet hanging in the air as her red hair touched the ground.

 

Murphy was propped up on the couch, feet dangling over the side as his head laid uncomfortably on the headrest. Hands cupped on his chest as he sent her a glare, making it known not to try anything as he closed his eyes to fall into a semblance of relaxation.

 

Warren was pacing around the room, fingers tapping against her chin, every so often looking over towards each member of the group. Ever since they left the Emergency Headquarters behind, she had been keeping a close eye on Murphy and Blake, like she didn't trust them. Blake didn't know what she did wrong, or where she messed up. She knew Warren was figuring out that there was a lot more things happening behind the scenes, but where had Blake lost her trust?

 

She wanted to dwell on it, and she knew that Warren was going to make her move soon, waiting to catch her off guard with a too-close-of-a-call question, or get her worked up enough to blurt her secret out. Blake wouldn't let that happen, but she could tell the time was coming when Warren would try her damn best to get an answer.

 

Garnett was hovering from each place in the room, sticking close to Warren or the doors, probably plotting an escape plan if things went to shit. It felt close to being a shit situation too; all these negative signs, more than unhinged behavior, and background knowledge the group had none of.

 

Blake wasn't the only one working behind the scenes, she knew that, and although this might not be Time Travel related, she could tell it was similar to what she was trying to do with the group. Keep them in the dark, give them as much information to not reveal your plan, and follow through with orders to reach the end goal of your mission. Blake didn't like how Home Falls was working with the same strategy.

 

Her hands felt raw, running along the dirt and grime that littered her jeans. Red marks were forming on her skin in the places she was gripping too hard, her breathing becoming more erratic the more she focused on the matter at hand. Blake wasn't one to go into a full-blown panic attack easily, but she wasn't the bravest either. Fear was her weak spot, and despite years of trying to curb and work under intense or formidable situations, that unwanted terror always managed to rear its ugly head.

 

She clamped her hands together, feeling the heat from friction and the sweat from her fear. She tried to push it down, taking deep breathes to calm her nerves, closing her eyes momentarily to block out the situation. Think happy. Don't get yourself worked up. You can't save them if you're panicking. You can't survive when you set yourself up to die.

 

The last thoughts were, admittedly, not happy, but it was enough to pull her out of it. She had a mission and that's what she had to focus on. Fear be damned. They worked in fear every day; a under designed waiting room that could belong to a cult in the middle of the apocalypse wasn't all too different than what she has dealt with before. She can't get worked up over it. Not now.

 

Slowly, she opened her eyes, seeing Addy had gotten even more bored (how that was possible was hard for Blake to put in words) deciding to indulge herself in looking around the random items that rested in various places in the room. Her hands traced the tables, humming an unnamed song as she worked her way around the room.

 

The rest of the group seemed to be busying themselves, so Blake took it upon herself to do the same. She reached over her shoulder, pulling her backpack into her lap and slowly unzipping it. She made sure to send a cautious look towards the other members of Operation Bitemark, making sure they weren't going to get nosy around her stuff.

 

Doc had tempted a glance up from the book he found, but the second he saw that she caught him peeking, he immediately turned his attention back to reading. Despite it being mildly alarming that Doc could figure out her secret if she wasn't being careful, Blake couldn't help as a fond smile crept onto her face. Damn Doc and his way of changing a serious setting that they could lose their lives in, to something that could ease a situation and pull fond memories to mind.

 

She turned her attention away from him, quickly shuffling around the inside of her backpack to find her journal and a pencil. She was lucky to have picked one up at the office building they stayed at the night they met Hammond. Pencils weren't all too common anymore, so she had to make do with using little led until she could find another.

 

Blake pulled out the black binder of her journal that hadn't actually been too harmed through the years of the apocalypse. She managed to keep it out of sight and in her backpack long enough that it wouldn't get too damaged. There were only a few marks here and there littered on the front and back, tiny little splotches and stains seeping around the edges of the dark color. Her hand ran along the cover, pulling it open to the first few pages she had written in.

 

August 4th, 2016

 

Four months before the apocalypse started, two days after she had been sent back in time. Two days after she heard her baby girl giggling in the living room. Two days after her daughter had run into her arms and her husband kissed her good morning. Two days that she had been able to tuck her little girl in bed, kissing her forehead goodnight, saying I love you and hearing it reciprocated back in a delicate, sluggish tone.

 

Two days after she had cried at the normalcy of her family being alive.

 

Most of her notes that day had been what she remembered of the past life. Jotted ideas of what Murphy had been doing with the Blends and as much information as she could remember about the members of Operation Bitemark. She had time, paper, and a pencil then. Her notes were long, detailed, and gave a full overview over everything she found important at the time that she didn't want to slip her mind.

 

She turned further into the journal, closer to where the blank pages awaited her.

 

January 19th, 3 A.Z

 

Only five months ago. Her notes were more limited like they are now. Time, location, event, and people. She didn't have enough at her disposal to write long stories anymore. It was just the basic facts of what she needed to know to get by and save them. Nothing too drawn out, but nothing too simple.

 

Her attention was pulled away from her journal by Addy's gasp, one that sounded more joyful and surprised that had the rest of the group pulling their attention towards her.

 

"Oh my God. I haven’t seen one of these in ages." Her hands played with a gray looking box, moving it between each hand with an enthusiastic smile on her face. When she finally started to slow down, carefully tucking it into one of her hands and pulling open the side, Blake could see it was a camera.

 

"What is it?" Cassandra ventured to ask, moving slightly in her chair to get a better look from behind Warren. The two women's eyebrows raised in curiosity as Warren moved closer to the red head.

 

Addy didn't pay them much mind, popping open the shaft to look inside. Her hands shook slightly in excitement, anticipation clawing its way around the room as Addy's smile grew and a breathy laugh escaped her. "Holy shit, and it still has film!"

 

Addy's laugh spread to Doc, a chuckle echoing the room as he set his book down and turned towards her. "I'd say it's pretty neat, but there isn't much around here that you could take pictures of." His eyes fell towards the cracks running throughout the peach-colored walls and the cluttered tables lining the room. "I mean, unless that's a photographer's dream over there."

 

It wasn't, as far as Blake was concerned, but most photos Blake had taken were of Jen or the setting sun. The occasional selfie popped up from time to time in her camera roll or a picture of Austin striking a silly pose in front of a baby Jennifer. Addy, however, had been (and is) the artist of the group, and if Blake remembered correctly, had been what she was majoring in. Maybe the scene was something Addy would take a quick picture of?

 

The red head's eyes followed to where Doc was looking, giving a half shrug at the mess and turning back towards scanning over the polaroid camera for any damages. "It doesn't look like it's in too bad of shape." She put the camera up to her eye, turning to take a quick snap of Mack lounging on the loveseat. The camera clicked as the shutter closed, the light quickly flashing before disappearing just as fast.

 

Mack blinked rapidly at the sudden flash, the picture of him finding itself in Addy's hand as she vigorously shook it. "And what are you going to do with that?" Mack's tone was a bit flat, but only if to hide the amusement at his girlfriend's excitement.

 

Addy plopped herself back on the couch, still lightly shaking the photo until it oxidized fully, the image already forming. "I dunno, but look how adorable you look." She cooed, bringing the picture in-between them and snuggling closer to Mack. He took the tease with an eyeroll, gently tackling Addy to not harm her or the photo, pushing her down on the loveseat and pressing a kiss to her lips.

 

Addy giggled despite it, pushing him off of her so she wouldn't drop the polaroid. "Watch the camera. Watch the camera."

 

He did as he was told, lifting himself back onto his side of the couch, arm slung around her shoulders as she smiled towards him, picture still held up in the air between them.

 

The smile returned to Garnett's face at the show of love between the young couple, a careless eyebrow raise sent their way. " What are you planning on doing with it?"

 

The reiterated question caught Addy's attention from her dreamy staring, giving a hum as she turned towards the Seargent. "Hm? Oh yeah." She pulled herself from her love stare, turning her head towards Blake's direction with a lazy gesture her way. "I was thinking since Blake always has her diary on her, we could like, put little photo memories in there too."

 

Oh my God…It's not a diary. For as long as Blake had been writing in the journal, the group had teased her about it being a diary. Admittedly similar since both were places to keep secrets, but this journal was more than just a teenage rom-com notebook.

 

"It's not a diary." It was an indignant murmur that was left unnoticed by the others, but Blake didn't care to think much about it. Despite the insult to her journal, she couldn't help the pang of warmth that filled her chest to Addy's offer. She trusted Blake enough to hold photos of the people closest to her. At least one person of the group still trusts her.

 

She sighed, caving into the red head's loveable energy. "Fine, sure. I'll put them in my journal."

 

The glee and enthusiasm she got back made Blake's smile widen farther. There weren't too many times in the apocalypse when they would have downtime or fun. There weren't all that many times that they could just relax and laugh. Despite the creeping worry that flooded every corner of Blake's being, the little moment now was one she wished to relish in for eternity. 

 

It was almost as if Addy was bouncing on her feet, moving around the room to take pictures of the group members. Her first victim to the flash had obviously been Murphy, the Dictator barely having enough time to move out of the light before Addy had caught him. His body was halfway off the couch, giving a dissatisfied cry as he tried to catch himself. Somehow, Addy had gotten the quick snippet of Murphy resting on the couch before the man had noticed, picking up his grumpy resting face in all of its glory.

 

"C'mon, Murphy! Smile for me." Addy ribbed, holding up the polaroid in front of her eye again, aiming the photo to be taken of him. She got a half-assed movement in return, grumbling as he pushed himself up off the floor, muttering unintelligible sentences that Blake couldn't hear. Obviously, Addy had heard if her sudden laugh and comment was anything to go by. "Aw, I know you like the attention."

 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." It was louder this time from the Dictator, moving away from the red head and closer to a window that’s curtain was drooping down too much on one side, giving a distorted view of the outside.

 

The next picture taken was of Cassandra, the younger woman sitting uncomfortably on the gray armchair, looking in a state between defensiveness and apprehension. Blake wasn't the only one to notice the shift, but she hadn't been as fast as Addy was to bring it up.

 

The red head moved closer a comfortable distance away, her smile softening when she caught Cassandra's stare. Whether it be a source of bad memories or pure anxiety, Addy was quick to comfort her, whispering softly when she was next to Cassandra, earning a snort and a smile in return for her efforts. The conversation wasn't one Blake was meant to hear, as much as she liked to know what was being said, she wasn't able to. The least she got from the interaction was that Addy and Cassandra were getting close, if by the way Addy nudged the younger woman, offering to take the picture together was anything to go by.

 

The light flashed like all the other times, followed by a chorus of giggles and gentle, playful shoves. Addy was quick to snatch the picture, shaking it in the air before placing it in the other hand with Mack and Murphy's photos. The same situations followed after, with Addy prodding Warren and Garnett to get together, intentionally pushing them closer despite the awkwardness and yelps that 'they weren't a couple'. The way Garnett's face reddened like a tomato, and the pure smile that was freely resting on Warren's face was enough to say otherwise.

 

Addy set the photos down by Blake, giving the ginger haired woman a devious smile that meant she was next. Blake couldn't help as her hands raised sheepishly to cover her face, hoping to get out of having her picture taken when she, by any standard, looked like shit.

 

It wasn't like she had much pride about her appearance, she never really did to be frank. Partly why most photos were pointedly not of her. The apocalypse coming about ruined any self-doubt over how she looked. Notably because, if you cared about how good you looked in the apocalypse over your own and other's safety to try and not get your face eaten off, you were far too vain to have much of a chance to survive.

 

That fact that now she was worrying about what she would look like on camera was even more embarrassing then how she knew the picture would turn out. But Blake would take the shame to admit that she was a little vain, and she did care about how stupid or disgusting she may look.

 

"Ah, don't do that." She tried to give a little laugh to not sound rude, pushing away any thought that criticized her physique, to think more logically. Blake had already broken enough rules of the Risen's, forming close relationships with the members of the group when she was only supposed to remain in the background. To interfere when they need her assistance, but to stay in the shadows otherwise, observing from the sidelines just to make sure they were okay. These little friendships that had built up were going against one of her major rules.

 

"I look more like a zombie than the dead do." But she could keep some of her pride on not trying to push too far.

 

Addy scoffed at her justification, holding up the camera to show she was going to do it either way. "That's a horrible excuse, Blake."

 

"We're all not lookin' our best nowadays." It was Doc who backed Addy, smiling over at them. "Can't be the only reason we can't have any fun."

 

That wasn't technically the main thing as to why, but Blake wasn't really allowed to say the major one.

 

Addy haphazardly threw her hand up, keeping the camera clutched in a careful grasp as the other hand pointed in the near vicinity that Doc was sitting in. "See! Just one, alright?"

 

The offer was more giddy than pleading, and seeing as how the pictures would reside in Blake's journal (and that said journal would never end up in any of the former Risen member's hands) she couldn't find any other reason to argue. Slightly reluctant and slightly just to hold up the act, Blake caved with a sigh, letting Addy do her magic.

 

Blinded by the quick flash, she blinked rapidly, hoping that the picture wouldn't be her with a scrunched-up face and eyes squeezed shut. Addy shook the photo, delicately setting it down with the few others, moving over to take the remaining's picture. Blake didn't even tempt to see how she looked in the photo, instead watching as Addy moved across the room with an exuberant skip in her step.

 

10K had been next, who awkwardly shifted around, the small smile that quirked at his lips falling in an anxious manner when Addy neared with the camera. He didn't seem all too fond of having his picture taken either, and Blake couldn't help but wonder if it was based on the fact that he didn't want to have a moment of himself captured in time, or if it had been so long since he had his picture taken; the thought coming to the forefront of her mind that he had only been a child when the apocalypse left the world in ruins.

 

Like Cassandra, Addy seemed to sense this too, handing the polaroid to Mack and telling him to take the picture of the two of them. Mack raised an eyebrow, before receding with a nod and taking the camera from her hold. He pushed himself to his feet as Addy wrapped an arm around 10K's tense shoulders, telling him to relax some before whispering something that brought a smile back to the boy's face.

 

She posed for the camera, albeit, a tab bit more exaggerated than she had done with the other photos she had been in. It earned a chuckle from Mack as 10K relaxed, snapping a quick picture of the two before the moment was ruined.

 

"God, you are so photogenic." Mack's tone was less annoyed, if not flirting as he shook the picture, eyeing Addy with an amorous smile. 

 

She gave 10K a light push, telling him to loosen up in the most fun-loving voice Blake ever heard, before turning to Mack, grabbing the camera out his hands, caressing his cheek as she passed by him. "I try to be."

 

Doc's pictures were all fun, getting more than enough laughs the sillier he got. Different poses with different people eased the situation even more until they were all laughing. Even managing to get a smirk from the Dictator, but Blake couldn't say she was happy about that when he had been the primary reason most of them had died.

 

The camera ended up getting passed around the room, allowing for different sets of members to take pictures with one another, even if they weren't going to use all the photos that they got. At some point, the time blending all together, the polaroid ended in Blake's hands, taking a picture of the couple as they pulled together for a quick kiss.

 

Despite the constant flirting from the two today, Blake took the picture, laughing as she shook it out. "Alright, alright. We get it. Cut it out, Lovebugs."

 

"Don’t worry." It took a moment for Blake to realize Murphy had been standing behind her, nearly making her flinch in surprise. "They'll come up for air sometime."

 

Murphy's sudden comment caused the two to laugh, pulling out of their kiss but not apart from each other. Blake couldn't help but roll her eyes at the young couple, feeling a fond smile creep its way back onto her face despite the Devil himself standing behind her.

 

It didn't take long for the room to shift again, this time with Doc offering that they take one big family group picture together. She knew that she couldn't do that though (remember her pride to the Risen?) so Blake offered to be the one to take the picture. She didn't miss how Murphy's face lit up some and how Addy's, Doc's, and Warren's fell.

 

"Seriously, Blake." Addy's voice had taken a more serious tone, a frown replacing her smile that almost made Blake's heart ache. "I didn't mean it before. You don't look like absolute shit. We all look bad, okay?"

 

Blake didn't need reassurances for it, she had her other goals in mind that kept her from saying yes, so she argued against them. Even when the others had chimed in, she refused to budge, trying any excuse that sounded mildly reasonable.

 

They let her be when they found she wouldn't budge (something Blake was glad for was her persistence despite the annoyance it tended to cause) allowing her to be the one that took the group photo.

 

The team huddled up on the couch in the farthest corner of the room. A light blue curtain with an ombre effect draped the window behind them, the white at the top allowing for a shine from the sun to seep behind them. The peach wall color was less dirty in the area, the green couch with swirled accents pushed up against it as a wooden bookshelf sat propped up beside it. Blake could tell that despite the area being the nicest of the room, the situation was less than ideal in space for the group to sit together.

 

They were crammed up against one another, far too uncomfortable for any of their liking, causing shifting and chaos with murmured question on who was taking what spot. Warren and Garnett were trying to stay out of it, standing next to each other by the bookshelf as Cassandra took the other side of the couch. 10K had, reluctantly and nervously, sat down on the arm of the couch, getting pushed to the side that Cassandra had taken, which had caused the younger woman to take a slightly cautious step back.

 

Doc plopped himself near the arm beside 10K, tugging the boy a little closer so that he was in a more relaxed position. Blake noted that Doc also saw Cassandra take a step back, hoping that pulling 10K closer to him (since most of 10K's trust rested in Doc) would allow Cassandra to be more comfortable with the little distance. The boy didn't fight it as much, leaning his arm against the back of the couch to hold himself up properly.

 

Three people sitting squished together was too much, and Blake thanked the God above that she opted out of the photo, which caused Addy and Mack to have little room to sit next to each other with Doc on the far-left side. The stunt of flirting at any chance they got didn't cease now, Mack pulling Addy onto his lap so that they were close to one another but still had enough room.

 

Murphy had been pushed to the side with Warren and Garnett, taking the opposite end of the arm like 10K had. Blake didn't miss the glare that rested on Mack's face when he saw the side Murphy had taken, sitting almost shoulder to shoulder with the younger man. Murphy sent him an annoyed huff, the very definition of 'look, I'm not happy with it either.'

 

"You guys ready?" Blake was more amused to watch them than anything, refusing to let out a laugh at the ridiculous scene of Operation Bitemark, the people she had always looked at as superhumans of the zombie apocalypse, squashed up next to each other like a kindergarten class picture.

 

"Just take the damn picture already." Murphy grumbled, shifting on the armrest in the majorly awkward position he was left in.

 

"Alright, alright." Blake wouldn't admit it aloud, and she knew how horrible it sounded, but she liked it when the Dictator was in pain. Serves him right after his tirade with the Blends and the wars that caused humans, Blends, and Talkers to lose whatever lives they had left.

 

She took the picture like she was told, shaking it until the image formed. By the time the picture's image came about, most of the team was crowded around her, Addy making grabby hands to take the photo off of her.

 

When all was said and done, the picture passed to each member of the group, Blake had been given the photos back, making her way back over to her journal after she found a lucky staple gun in the corner. With the limited staples that were left in there, she had to work carefully, turning to the back pages of her journal and thoughtfully planning out where each would go.

 

She picked out a few of them, the ones where the team looked the happiest, positioning them on the few pages they were designated to. Shifting through the pictures, she found the one Addy had first taken of her, and Blake couldn't help but steal a glance at it.

 

It was by no means pretty. Her ginger hair pulled into a ponytail was frayed, strand popping up from the top of her scalp to the end of the tail, reminding her more of straw than flowing locks. There was dirt and unwashed blood that stained her light brown skinned face; her ripped jean jacket and gray, plain V-neck not having much luck either. The only thing that minorly made up for it was her timid smile, and Blake could not thank God enough that the yellows on her teeth didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

 

She was startled from her thoughts when she heard shifting behind her, turning around on a whim and closing her journal by instinct. She caught Warren raising a curious eyebrow at her reaction, letting a sigh of relief leave her as she cautiously opened up the journal again to the photos.

 

"You scared me." It wasn't much of an accusation and Warren knew it. It was more of a conversation starter so that they didn't have to sit in an unbearable silence.

 

"I've been told." Warren's voice was a bit gentler, a tad bit more open, but she could tell something was irking the woman, and Blake had a good guess as to what.

 

Surprisingly, Warren deflected the oncoming question that loomed in the air, pointing to some of the pictures already stapled in. "They turned out pretty good."

 

Blake nodded, going along with the charade, but she knew Warren picked up on the way her shoulders started to tense. "Yeah." It came out more breathy than she wanted it to, hand moving to cover the sole picture that Addy had taken of her. "Yeah, you guys look pretty good." She couldn't help but give the woman a playful nudge, hoping that even with the lack of trust that just started resting among them, she wasn't pushing too far. "Y'know. For the apocalypse, at least."

 

It was Warren's turn to nod, humming as she gently moved Blake's hand from the photo she was covering up. "They all look nice." She picked up the emphasis as Warren's look turned sterner. Blake tried to ignore it, but she had to admit that Warren's ability to curb her self-doubt was soothing.

 

She couldn't help but let out a sigh, removing her hand from the picture fully to run it along the edges of the binder. She didn't respond, not having the right words to, but Warren accepted it, breaking the silence with what Blake already expected.

 

"Are you alright?" There was a bit of worry that laced her tone, the concern melting in with the caution, a clear sign of the distrust that managed to worm its way into their relationship. "You've been acting different ever since…" Her sentence trailed off, a little hand motion gesturing over towards Murphy. "-him." She finished flatly, titling her head to the side as she addressed her.

 

Blake knew exactly who she was talking about, but it would seem too suspicious to pick up on it so easily. It would seem like she knew the question was coming, that she had been pondering over it day and night.

 

"Who? Murphy?" Play dumb. You're good at that.

 

Warren gave her an unimpressed look, confirming that her inner thoughts weren't as true as she assumed they were. Blake didn't take that as a compliment in this situation though.

 

"No, yeah. I'm fine, Warren. I'm-" trying to hide all this from you. I'm trying to keep you safe. I'm trying my best not to fail you guys like I keep. Freaking. Doing. "I'm fine." She blew out a frustrated breath, but she knew the conversation was far from over.

 

The silence settling back over them was one Blake wanted to fight to keep away. She didn't like the lack of response, and the thoughts racing in Warren's head might not be the ones she needed the woman to be thinking about.

 

"I'm just worried." She let it hang in the air, feeling Warren's expectance to continue. Blake hated that she had to lie, she knew in the end it would bite her in the ass, but it was what she had to do. Coming up with the lie was always the hardest part.

 

Her response wasn't quick enough, and Warren seized the moment to keep the question from swaying into a different topic. "Ever since Murphy showed up at Blue Sky you've been acting different. You've been different."

 

She knows she has. She knows that the little things she does, the ways that she acts, were off from how she usually acted among the group. Operation Do-Over had only been starting then, but the second Murphy entered the camp, it began her mission.

 

"Did you know him Pre-Z?" Warren wasn't usually one to pry all too much into a person's backstory-- not unless she deemed them a threat. The idea set Blake on edge further.

 

"Hell no!" Blake knew it was defensive, she knew this wasn't looking too good on her, but she couldn't stop herself from blurting it out. "I just--I talked to him at Blue Sky once and you know how much of a pain in the ass he is. I guess…"Calm down. Breathe. Riling herself up was in no way, shape, or form helping this situation at all. "I guess he just manages to strike a nerve and I can't help but try and get back at him?"

 

It was lame and it fell short, but she tried to continue on from it. "I dunno. Just with Blue Sky and how close Jen was…how close I was to losing her." She wouldn't have lost her because she knew what would happen, but the idea made her throat close up. "And now she's safe but I can't see her." It was a part of her mission. It's what she has to do.

 

"I'm just worried." She was. She was more worried than she wanted to be and the quiver in her voice wasn't one that she was acting up. Jenny was alive this time, but that didn't mean she was perfectly safe. And now Blake was nowhere near her and even if Nakia was taking care of her, she still couldn't see her, and she couldn't protect her and-- and…

 

And she was worried.

 

She was terrified that she would fail her mission.

 

She was panicked that her little girl could get ambushed by the undead while she was away.

 

She was frightened that she couldn't do the one damn thing she was assigned to do.

 

And she was afraid. That fear that crept in the back of her mind, waiting to pounce on her like a ravenousness lion, lurking in the shadows to just wait and see her fail.

 

With Warren's suspicion, the idea of it only crept closer.

 

There was a light, reassuring touch that rested on her shoulder, and for once Blake couldn't help as her body leaned into it. She hadn't realized how her shoulders had gone even more rigid or how her breathing quickened. She felt pricks in her eyes and the heat rising to her face wasn't just the embarrassment she was feeling atop all her other degrading emotions.

 

"We'll get back to her." Warren's voice was calm, losing that hard edge of growing suspicion that Blake knew was still there, just pushed to the back burner for the time being. "Jennifer's in good hands, and she knows her mama's gonna find a way back."

 

She felt the coldness of an exhale leave her chest, the chilling fear that had started running through her veins starting to vanish. The hand left her shoulder, fingertips leaving her back as Warren pulled away, turning so that she could be eye to eye with Blake who was crouched over on the chair. She lifted her head to look at the other woman, seeing that sternness replaced with something more gentle, but still keeping a steely edge to it.

 

"But we can't be losing it now, you hear me? We're on a mission to save this damn world from the apocalypse and I'm not gonna do it without you."

 

There was so much to unpack in Warren's words that Blake had to physically hold herself back from crying. It felt reassuring despite the situation that was still growing, but Blake accepted it because it felt nice to know. To know she was still somewhat a part of this team. That Operation Bitemark, that Warren, would still accept her.

 

For now, of course.

 

She could only give a small nod, closing her eyes and releasing a shaky breath when she heard the door finally swing open. Blake tried to recompose herself as she felt Warren get up, moving over towards the door to greet whoever they had to meet with.

 

But that didn't sound like the plan. Not when Blake could only hear Jesser speak, no one else, and a chilling silence nearly fell throughout the room. A stiffness that hung in the air that nearly felt suffocating.

 

Her emotions weren't in check, not enough, before her blood ran cold. The words Jesser spoke causing a shake to course though Blake's body and her heart to leap in her chest before outright stopping. Her breathing verging on erratic as her hands gripped back onto her jeans, the fading red marks returning.

 

"Sergeant Markson is ready to see you."

 

Notes:

Now for the reasons. You don't have to read. This just gives a better insight into what I was going for and how it may affect or seemed to affect a character in the show.
------------------------------------
Addy-- She only mentioned her mother and brother, and I decided to give her a backstory on her father in a way that may contribute to her decision in Sisters of Mercy.

Mack--This was given to me by a person who shall remain unnamed. In Day One, when Addy says that she needs to check on her mother and brother, Mack makes no argument to check on his own. He doesn't seem to show urgency about them, but the again, he is out of state, so I'm not sure. I figured he'd at least be a little worried. This unnamed person also explained that Mack may have joined hockey as a way to vent out his anger, using that aggression from his past into the sport. People have also said Mack was depicted as a clingy type boyfriend towards Addy. If this be the case, Addy may have been the only solid factor in his life as a family, so of course he would have been majorly protective over her.

Warren-- I read some fic a while ago about Antoine and Warren Pre-Z. Wanting and not wanting kids and all. I don’t remember the name, but I thought back to it while writing and figured I'd give a subtle nod.

Garnett-- Based off of the fact that he says, "Amy and the kids."

Doc-- I would've gone more in depth with his child custody and drug addiction, but it seemed unnecessarily warranted to prod further into it.

Cassandra-- Cassandra's life was inspired off of her actress (Pisay Pao). So many people depict Cassandra as this girl who had grown up in an abused household. In the show, Cassandra was strong willed, but I don't think that is from abuse. S However, in this story, I emphasized on the fact that she could handle it. Mentally, that is, along with physically. I'm no expert in psychology, so I'm sure I'm wrong with a lot of this. I put a tidbit of Cassandra's mother having breakdowns, which could contribute on how Cassandra was able to maintain herself for so long with Tobias. With years of comforting, she used it as a way to help herself through it.

 

10K--His backstory is relatively similar to the show, but we don't know exactly what happened to his mother. The way his father talks about her, it sounded like she died when 10K was young. I assumed five or six, by theories of other fans. The most prominent that I found to work better for his character was cancer. It starts to change the body, and I think remembering the affects that his mother lived through could further haunt him in the world where everything is slowly withering away.

Blake--As expected, isn't too exciting. I didn't intend to make her that way. I tried to sum up her personality of clinging towards others rather quickly. She married Austin on the spot because she loved him, which could further show her sudden protectiveness over people she never met. Blake becomes attached too quickly, leading to a bond to form for her that she expands on, taking further actions to spring from it. Marrying early to the love of her life, etc.
--------------------------------------

That's it for backstories, but my goodness. I just finished Moon Knight and holy heck, I'm in love. Platonically of course. I swear on my life, it is so good, and the main character(s) have become my favorite--surpassing Spider-Man who has been my favorite for years. As in the words of another Fanfic Writer. "Steven stole my heart, Marc crushed it, and Jake demolished it into oblivion."

Any other Moon Knight fans?

As in Steven Grant's words:

"Laters Gators"

Coming Soon:
Reappearing Faces (Part two)

Chapter 19: Reappearing Faces (Part Two)

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait--Writer's Block, Harvest, the craziness of life.

Out of the whole story, this is probably one of the shortest chapters, ranging at a Word Count of around 7,000 words.

Murphy's POV:

 

Why wasn't he surprised? Really, he never should have been. His jaw shouldn't have dropped some, his heart shouldn't have stuttered in his chest. He saw Markson's kids outside for God's sake, he wasn't surprised.

 

Okay…maybe he was a little.

 

Give him a break though, he never actually expected to meet up with the infamous Sergeant again. Last he had seen from his Blends' eyes was Markson going on a killing spree, firing a bullet between each of their eyes or through the side of their heads. Murphy never actually thought that he would be seeing Markson this time around (had been hopeful he wouldn't have to), but then again, nothing was much of a surprise in the apocalypse.

 

Blake's face had gone utterly pale, tensed shoulders as she had stared towards the door. Murphy gave her credit for not flipping her shit, but she didn't really act much either to try and keep up her role of 'normal zombie apocalypse survivor'. Warren having to grab the woman and drag her out the door-- completely unresponsive, struck with fear-- only offered more questions. None of which Murphy heard, and none of which he cared to hear.

 

They were walking through the fenced in town now, a mixture between a rubbish pile and collapsing buildings desperately trying to be preserved. White cloths-stained gray waved in the wind, steadily picking up from this morning. The hodgepodge reminded Murphy of Blue Sky-- just this town was a little more organized with a couple more shelters.

 

Markson led the group of them; two guards in front, three in the back, and Operation Bitemark crammed in the middle. Their weapons lied untouched back in the entrance building, but Murphy let his hand slowly creep towards his waist disappointed when he found nothing there. He let out an agitated grumble, letting his eyes cautiously watching for the first signs of danger.

 

Markson was not the major problem back in Toivo-- just another mindless follower clouded by grief and pain, driven insane by years in the apocalypse. A man who had lost everything and denied to see what he could gain. Markson was just one of many causing problems, and without the Risen formed, he had no outside source persuading him against Murphy. He didn’t have a grief that swallowed him whole, or a manipulation pulled over his eyes.

 

But he could very well be a threat, and Murphy refused to take a chance on it.

 

"I have to say, not many people are on a governmental mission nowadays." Markson started, turning his head around to look towards the group, cautious in his steps as he moved forward. " Bit more than risky."

 

Warren shrugged as Garnett nodded his head, hand quickly scratching at the growing stubble of a beard. "We're taking our chances." It was a hesitant response, leading into the bigger question. "But we were hoping to get a little help…?"

 

He trailed off as Markson held up his hand, a shake of his head. "I figured." His eyes trailed to the barbed gates, a couple stray Zs pounding against the metal as a few guards went to take care of the problem. "But out here isn't the best place to talk."

 

Course it wasn't because something was freaking these people out, and Murphy sure all hell knew it wasn't just the zombies. He still didn't like the implications of it.

 

Markson waved to the three guards in the back before motioning towards the group. "We'll talk negotiations for your mission, but-" He emphasized, finger pointing towards a building farther back, "it's always a two-way street. Gotta give some to get some."

 

Ha, great. Stuck under another person's thumb, just like how most people liked to play their cards. At times, Murphy respected it. Now, it felt like plain bullshit.

 

Warren gave a tight-lipped smile, but Murphy could see the annoyance running off of her in waves.

 

"Of course." She managed out, most definitely holding back on what she wanted to say. "What's the give?"

 

The smirk that formed on this younger Markson's face was everything that it was in the future, just without the crinkles in his forehead and crow's feet at his eyes. "We've got a bit of a problem towards the back of the camp-- could use a bit of help from the youngsters of your group?" His eyes fell to Addy, Mack, 10K, and Cassandra, the smirk still playing at his lips.

 

Forcing a split up was not what they needed right now, and Murphy went to speak to make that clear, but Garnett stepped in front of him, speaking before Murphy could get a word out. "What's the problem?"

 

Content that they hadn't downright rejected the deal like Murphy wanted to offer, the smirk on Markson's face was made more pronounced by the sudden light in his eyes. A glint of something mischievous, if Murphy ever saw anything like it.

 

"Few weeks back, we got an unexpected surprise." His accent almost drawled, still in a state of disbelief over whatever the hell happened. "We've been handling it the best we can, but it's all a bit more than we can manage. A little help would be nice." The pleading look that lined his face intermixed with a confidence, sly and unwanted.

 

"Right well," The sarcastic tone that Mack's voice held got him a glare by Addy, but the former hockey player kept himself from reacting to it. "-would be a lot better to know what we're gonna be dealing with."

 

That wasn't a no, not just yet, but Markson didn't look at it that way. "Building back there," he nodded towards the structure in question, "got a shit-ton of puppies and kittens. Would be great if you folks could help pitch in."

 

At the mention of Puppies and Kittens, Operation Bitemark was already alert, reaching for the phantom weapons that usually were kept on their person, eyes penetrating Markson and the guards with incredulous looks.

 

"Why the hell would you be keeping them locked up in a building?" Warren asked, raising an eyebrow as she went to grab her revolver off of her waist, grabbing nothing but air.

 

"How many are there?" Addy pitched in, getting spoken over by Warren.

 

Doc was the next to chime in, voice a tad more disbelieving in what seemed to be a constant theme with survivor groups. "Zombies? Really man? What's with not giving them mercy once they turn?"

 

All the while, Markson's eyes had gone wide, raising his hands like he was surrendering to someone with their gun trained on him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Zombies?" Markson's voice was higher pitched than Murphy expected the gruff man to be, near on the verge of panic at the sudden demeanor change of the group. "No, no. They're not zombies. 'Puppies and kitten', cats and dogs, you know? The animals?"

 

Ah, that made more sense.

 

At the sudden revelation, the intense air dwindled, looks of embarrassment flashing across the group's faces. Garnett had been the first to make an apology, no surprise there, before turning back to the group. A quick passing of a look that asked whether or not the four were okay with it, and turning to Warren to see if it was a good idea-- stuck owing a camp of people they had no real information on.

 

Wouldn't be the first time they've been in a situation similar to this. Make a deal, let it play out, get screwed in the end, and leave with the place burning at your heels and a quarter filled tank in the truck.

 

But this was the past, and the group had no knowledge of those experiences.

 

A nod of her head and a raised eyebrow to the man in front of her, Mack, Addy, 10K, and Cassandra followed in tow to three guards leading them halfway across the camp.

 

----- line break ---

 

Addy's POV:

 

The gray walled building, lined with moss covered bricks and rotting wooden planks, wasn't much of a sight. It held the type of apocalypse feeling you could never escape from. Everything dead, dying, withering away as nature took charge. Trampled flowers covered under tar and cement rose from the cracks that littered the black and gray surfaces. Grass grew back and vines sprouted, like an awakening that had hibernated for too long.

 

Addy would have loved to paint it, letting the ideas glide off her paintbrush in gentle strokes. Crystal clear skies and flowing lakes, free of smoke and trash. It would have been beautiful.

 

But nothing now really seemed to be beautiful. Not with the newly risen decayed masses that wandered the Earth in search of brains. Not the things that attacked and turned. That tore flesh off bone and guts from bodies.

 

There was beauty in something so horrific, but it took all your willpower to try and look past the grotesqueness to find that preserved appeal.

 

She wanted to look at it that way. Take off the dark shades and wear her rose colored glasses. Look at the world as she did long before the zombies rose from their graves. When she was happy, with her brother and mother. When she had friends, a path, a job, a life. Way back before the world was covered in blood. Before a person had to fear for their life, their children, family, pried from their hands as teeth sunk into one of their loved one's arms. Her friends, her mother, Michael…

 

Walking corpses who were given mercy.

 

Beauty was buried deep within the layers of red and darkness. Addy had no idea if she could ever dig it up again.

 

But a smile, a grin, a light that didn't quite reach her eyes and a cheerful attitude always made this life she was living worthwhile. Focusing on a mission, a hope, for a better future, something from a dream right before a nightmare strikes.  Because what was the point in living if you got nothing out of it?

 

As the metal doors screeched on the tiled floor and the stench of piss and shit struck her nose, the four of them were greeted into a room of what seemed to be dozens of animals. Old cats cowering in a corner, young kittens hissing at the playful puppy that bounced in front of them. An old dog with its head hung low, gray snout pressed to the cool tile of the floor, inches away from the puddle of yellow that hadn't yet been cleaned up.

 

Horrifying. Like a mill that had no care for the animals they bred.

 

But a beauty, the yipping of something alive, something so precious, prayed for by little kids who wanted a companion to come home to. A purr from a cat that rubbed against the exposed skin of her leg. The cream fur brushing like a caress of fluff, gentle and soft, like a merciful blessing in a place filled with dirt and grime.

 

A giddiness blossomed from her chest, an "aww" escaping her lips as she knelt down, carefully sweeping her hand along the parts of fur that wasn't matted. The cat's purr rumbled from its chest louder, tail shooting up as it circled her feet a couple more times. She could get lost in a fantasy world, stuck all day in this moment of peace, but the cat pulled itself away too quickly for her liking, trekking over to a water bowl being filled up by a stressed camp member.

 

She pulled herself off the filth covered ground, listening to the conversation above her.

 

"Smells like shit in here." Mack was, in these instances, pessimistic. Less of Murphy pessimistic, thank God, but still not one to look at the bright before the dark. His scrunched up nose and wary eye to the new place they were led into told her that he didn't agree with the makeshift shelter they set up.

 

The one guard that decided to stick close (the others leaving once the doors had closed behind them) did not look amused. A scowl pulling the lines of the young man's face into some deeper, repelled look, keeping his gaze out in front of him.

 

"Apocalypse doesn't offer much better standards. Better the animals than the people." Which was awful to think about. People didn't have much better accommodations in the apocalypse, sure. Still felt like a cruelty to keep an animal trapped within this place.

 

Then again, what better option was there? Out with the flesh craving beasts that preyed on anything living?

 

The guard finally turned to look at them, hand gestured wide to the place around them. "This is where you'll work. We got some ladies comin' back with some of those stale kibble bits. Half a cup each. No more. We gotta lot of animals to feed and 'bout a triple the amount of humans. Rations need to be shared, of course."

 

His hands clasped around the gun hanging from his shoulder, body halfway towards the door.

 

"No dilly-dallying here. Move it!"

 

----- line break -----

 

Blake's POV:

 

Markson. Here. By Operation Bitemark.

 

If now were any other time, Blake would've dropped to her knees and prayed. Prayed that Markson wasn't here. That he didn't recognize her. That he didn't remember anything.

 

Nobody was supposed to. Nobody besides her and Murphy should remember, or at least that was what she was told. She wouldn't be surprised if the Risen decided to let a couple of their more trusted members keep an eye out to make sure all was going as planned. And if Markson remembered…

 

She knew all Hell would have to be paid.

 

They shouldn't have sent him back in time though. Not unless he snuck around the system. They had to be stable in mind, and Markson…Markson missed that mark a long time ago. And if he remembered, the man that stood before him, the one that held the cure to save the world (the one that held a way to destroy it) was doomed to meet the Sergeant's wrath.

 

For the lives that his children lost. For the lives of his allies, his group and people. Those turned into mindless beings followed under a master's rule. The dictator himself that caused so much pain to a world flooding with it stood before a man that thought he could end it all with a single bullet in his chamber.

 

The unstable man against an unstable dictator.

 

Blake prayed to God that only Murphy remembered.

 

They were led towards some type of shelter. The windows boarded from the outside, shattered glass that littered the ground. What used to be a house, Blake guessed, falling down from its bones, molding from the inside out. The structure didn't look like it would hold, not against the breeze that was steadily picking up outside.

 

Markson hadn't said a word, leading the rest of the group and the few guards into the rickety building. Blake didn't miss the look Warren gave them, the tilt of her head as she scanned the door that nearly fell off of its hinges. Doc shook his head, muttering something under his breath that vaguely sounded like, " Zombie Apocalypse lair hideout bullshit." The older man's steps careful as he trekked past the shattered glass and broken debris that threatened to give tetanus.

 

Murphy's grumblings were expected, the Dictator sending her a glare that all but screamed, This is a bad idea. Blake was inclined to believe him, begrudgingly if anything, but agree nonetheless. Not that she cared to admit that aloud.

 

The inside of the house wasn't much better off. You could smell the mold that grew in the walls, all the decay that manifested in the two rooms that hadn't been blocked off with white plastic sheets. A fold up table covered in scratches of past fights and stains of God knows what, sat in the middle of the room. Chairs of all assortments were pushed around it, like a false idea of a makeshift meeting area, if Blake had ever seen one.

 

A kitchen area rested just through the archway, tiled whites chipped where the dark wood ended. The guards took their place in front of the entry way, caging them in from each side.

 

No exit, no entrance.

 

Trapped like a canary in its cage, like a fish caught in a net. Only released when you were needed, and even then your freedom was in the control of another person's hands.

 

Markson liked that trick, as years passed and his morality shortened. The times when his flame would burst and nothing was off limits if it meant succeeding in the end goal.

 

Blake didn't like this; she didn't like any of this. The Risen had always been the safest place back then (in the future?) but that was war. That was war in a time where old zombies craved your brains, and Talkers begged for their lives to be spared from becoming ravenousness when a shortage of Bizkuits broke out.

 

The Risen was the only place to turn to if you didn’t want to be forced into a Blend. But Blake couldn't let herself look past their methods that were hidden behind closed doors. There was a time to be ruthless and a time to be merciful. The Risen played into the former when they were at the losing end.

 

I wouldn't kill them just because I think it'll set them free. I hate doing it now, but out there it is life and death; not freedom and justice.

 

With the Risen, the lines were blurred. Death brought freedom, death brought justice. Life was given in the end, when both had been dealt and the reign of tyranny had ended.

 

If Markson remembered, if he was the eyes to keep watch of what she was doing, the Risen could have told him that she had plans to go back in time, if there was ever a screw-up. Markson, a man of revenge, a man unhinged from the death of his son and stripped freedom of his daughter, wouldn't hesitate to take it out on the man who caused this.

 

All the times Blake imagined pulling the trigger on Murphy was times Markson would have taken.

 

What would stop him now if he knew he could go back?

 

Blake took her place in one of the chairs, eyeing Markson in a careful concentration, trying to make out anything that reminded her of his older self. She heard Murphy's huff as he plopped down on the metal chair, free of a cushion against the cold surface. Warren and Garnett took their places beside one another, far enough apart to be on defense if necessary, but close enough to defend each other in the case of an attack. Doc, who had been eyeing the house, shrugged with a "why not" taking the seat between Murphy and her. A relief in the situation, in the least.

 

She saw the way Markson nodded, the way his eyes scanned around the table before he set himself in the chair a few away from Warren. That non-threatening behavior, negotiable, Blake had seen before. Standing would make him look like he was asserting dominance over them, that an escape was unlikely with all the rest in defensive positions, ready for an attack or to attack. Sitting down meant he was just as vulnerable as the rest of them.

 

'Let them think that way.' He once told her, right after his children were ripped from him and Blake had offered to be a lending hand, a shoulder to cry on to a man that refused to tear up. 'When the gun clicks from underneath the table, they'd know they should have thought otherwise.'

 

Blake risked a glance, scooting her chair closer to the table, pretending that the leg got caught on the chipped wood. She made a murmured apology, ducking down as she moved the chair up, enough so that she could briefly see under the table. A quick glance and she didn't see a gun, but she couldn't be sure.

 

The Risen were always good at hiding.

 

"So," Markson smiled, gentle, reassuring, deceitful-- a sigh billowing from his chest as he turned to Garnett, "your mission. I heard something of a...cure? Is that right?"

 

Garnett hummed, a nod of his head as his lips pressed together. "We were tasked with transporting this man-" His hands vaguely gestured to a slumped over Murphy, the Dictator shaking his head with an annoyance that said he had been through this a hundred times. "…to California. We've been given information that they can develop a cure from there."

 

A laugh, short and quick, left Blake's former companion in the midst of the war. She never took that as a good sign, not after she got to know him. "California. That's a long way to go."

 

"Yeah." The scoff from Murphy wasn't unexpected. "We're pretty on top of that. Suicide mission and all, heard it a thousand times." The jab he got from under the table by Doc got the older man a scrunched-up look and a derisive "What?"

 

"Which is why-" The look Warren sent the Dictator was enough to make the man shut it, eyes falling back on Markson with a more gentle, reserved approach, "We've come looking for help, if it can be offered." The last part a bit forced than the rest, another tilt of her head in a friendly manner this time.

 

There was a sigh, Markson's shoulders falling back as he slumped more in his chair. Vulnerable. His hands rested on the table, clasped together as his fingers tapped against his knuckles. He's making himself non-threatening. Somehow, that didn't assure Blake in the slightest.

 

Those that were cocky, that were confident in themselves-- boastful and proud, thinking that they were high and mighty. The mindset that they will always win being something that plagued their minds. In the end, their pride got the betterment of them. But the people who were calm. The people who portrayed themselves in a way that made others think they had the upper hand, were the ones that triumphed. Their plan working behind the scenes where no one would catch it. Managing to take them off guard, to trap them, make them think they are vulnerable when it really is yourself.

 

Your short comings were taken advantage of. You slip up once and the predators surround it like hawks.

 

"Supplies are limited nowadays. Can't just give it out all willy-nilly." Markson's hand motioned around him, lifting off of the table to gesture near his head. "Strangers like to convenience themselves off of it. Give a little sob story, maybe even talk about something foremost to focus on in a time of desperation."

 

Warren's smile thinned even more, the words "liar" all but falling out of Markson's mouth.

 

…Which would mean he doesn't remember?

 

"We understand your concerns. We-" Garnett's hands slightly indicated towards Warren, Doc, and her. "-used to be a part of a camp. It's not easy to accept what everyone says for truth. But, this isn't some sob story, or any lie to get supplies. A man was assigned for this mission and planned to carry through with it up until his death saving the cure." The glare that fell on Murphy was quick before he turning back to Markson. "If my faith lacked until that point, sir, I believed then."

 

Markson mauled over their words, head nodding as he craned his neck to look at the guards that stood around them. Hundreds of questions seemed to be running through his head, Blake had seen it a thousand times, before his eyes settled back on them, hands resting back on the table.

 

"What camp?" Deflecting the obvious question that was already on the tip of his tongue. What the hell is going on?

 

"Camp Blue Sky, upstate New York." Doc was the one to speak up, a nervous look in his eyes as his hand picked at the wry strand of his white beard, having grown out over the past few weeks. "Got attacked by the Zs. Couldn't get the people out fast enough. The guns and gasoline didn't do much either, barely managed to escape ourselves. We were the only survivors."

 

Markson hummed, eyes thoughtfully looking over at Doc as he spoke, a certain sympathy lacking in it to hearing more survivors suffered at the hand of the world. "All the way in New York." He sighed, hands rubbing along the stubble of his face. "You folks got far by yourselves. Reckoning you didn't have a larger team?"

 

Questions over resilience. Goals and travel distance, Blake could understand. Out of all her years with Markson, she wasn't sure where this younger version of him was going with this.

 

"Only one." Hammond. Blake didn't miss the way Murphy's face fell a bit at the mention of the Lieutenant's death.

 

Another hum, more considerate as he thought it over. Tension clouded the table as the silence dragged out.

 

"Sergeant-" Garnett had started, but Markson only raised his hand, cutting the man off.

 

"No need to elaborate. I'll get you the supplies you need. Sparse, of course. As I said before, you'll need to give some. More than just your younglings helping out back there."

 

Your fate in another person's hand. When you need something from another person, you'll be pressed under their thumb. In their debt that you are required to repay.

 

"What do you need?" Warren didn't seem too keen on the idea either.

 

The smile that lined Markson face, shoulders high as he sat straight in his chair, lost the vulnerability he had previously been portraying.

 

--- line break---

Addy's POV:

 

She couldn't remember the last time she'd run her hands along the short fur of a dog-- the prickly strands rubbing against the calluses of her dirty palm. The grimy fur that shed off the dog would have had her rubbing her hands together to get rid of it, but in this moment now, relaxed and happy, she didn't want to risk it.

 

Her head lay against Mack's chest, his legs moved like a cushion for her body to rest on. One hand was crossed over her torso pressing her back closer against him, while his other hand ran along the curled fur of the mixed hybrid that stalked over his shoulder. Addy leaned her head into his chest, hoping that the drool that threatened above didn't land on her.

 

The dog, Ru, as the younger children that had previously darted around the animals had called her, was curled up on her leg that hung off the tangled mess of her and Mack's extremities. Grays lined the nose of Ru, rib bones jutting out from the normally athletic body of the boxer dog. It was sad, horrifying, to see a creature starved, but Ru's wagging tail as she turned onto her stomach had Addy cooing over her.

 

"God, it feels like forever since I've seen an animal." Her hand ran down across the exposed skin of Ru's pink stomach, feeling the way Mack's chest rose and fell, a breathy laugh vibrating against her head.

 

"Lisa." He reminded, pushing the mixed mutt's head off from resting on his shoulder to lightly tilt Addy's chin up to look at him. "Used to have that old service dog, right? Ratty little thing protected her from everything." Somehow, the affection in his voice was lolling, Addy tempted to pull his lips the rest of the way to hers.

 

"Yeah," It was more of a sigh, dreamy, as she watched his lips curl into a gentle smirk. She couldn't help the giggle that escaped her, pushing her head back into his side to break herself out of this trance. Three goddamn years and he still made her feel like she had butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

 

"Kinda miss him-- Baxter, was it?" The shake of his head that she got in reply was enough to have her shoulders shrugging against the fabric of his shirt. "I really miss Lisa though. So sweet, and God she made the best eggs. You remember those?" She tilted her head back to Mack's, watching as his light eyes scanned her.

 

"Eh." A half-shouldered shrug, the hand previously petting the curls of the mutt sweeping through her tangled red hair. "Best you could get in the zombie apocalypse, anyways."

 

"Better than most." Addy didn't miss the mumble from Cassandra, the younger woman facing away from them as she watched the older animals finish their meals, teeth that had long since fallen out making it hard to eat the bigger chunks of kibbles. She also didn't miss the way Mack cringed, nose wrinkling some as his eyes darted away from her.

 

She was desperate to change the subject, hoping to keep whatever semblance of peace the world was offering them, even if it was for a little while longer. Addy pushed herself up on her elbows, ignoring the whine that grumbled from Mack's throat to the loss of contact. Her eyes turned from Cassandra, watching as her hand ran along something in her jacket pocket, to 10K, a long-haired lab leaned against his thigh, head pressed onto the boy's lap.

 

She didn't fight the smile that lined her face. "What about you guys?" Three heads turned back to her; 10K's scarred eyebrow raised slightly, Cassandra's head titled, and Mack's eyes narrowed, seemingly guessing what she was trying to get on to. "Ever have any dogs before? Pets?"

 

Mack shrugged, letting her leave the comfort of his lap so that he could stretch out his stiff legs. "Not really. Had a roommate that did-- guy wouldn't take the dog out half the time…all the big games coming up or whatever." He waved it off like it wasn't important. "Kept it in a crate, usually he'd let it out when he'd get home, but after a couple drinks--" It was more of a huff that left him, shaking his head. "Responsibility tended to fall on me."

 

Didn't sound like his roommate cared all that much for his dog. "Ass." Addy figured if they can't or don't care enough to take care of an animal, probably best they didn't have one. Saved a whole lot of complaints from down the road, that was for sure.

 

"What about you, Cass?" The way the tension fell out of Cassandra's shoulders had a warm feeling bubbling in Addy's chest. She tried to be gentle since Cassandra revealed her nickname the night before-- she only had a slight clue on what went down with Tobias and the rest of the…of the cannibals. It was Hell, she knew that much. And nicknames, she knew they could be a sore spot. Sunshine, Tobias had called Cassandra. It made Addy sick to think about all the things the older man could have and had done with her. 

 

But Cassandra's reaction, the way she seemed to relax, seemed fond of the careful and gentle endearment, was something Addy wanted to keep doing if it meant the younger woman didn't have to be fearful and strained with the group.

 

"I'm more of a cat person, actually." Cassandra's dark brown eyes softened when they fell on her, a small smile twitching from the corner of her lips.

 

"Oh yeah?" But it was hard to not laugh, thinking back to the way the dogs seemed to crowd Cassandra when she went to feed them. All that time, she had probably been wishing for it to be the cats.

 

"Yeah." It was quiet, but light, content in the peaceful environment they had for the time being. "Always wanted one, but…" Her hand motioned around her, more-so to the doors that marked the entrance and exit. "Zombies."

 

Addy's smile fell some. The world wasn't fair-- life wasn't fair. Everything seemed to be happy and working to something better. Between family and friends, economics, jobs, the daily life of chaos and peace. And then the zombies came. Then they were survivors in the world of the dead, fighting day to day from the horrors of starvation and turning.  Death reeked around them when just a few days before the outbreak, there had been people looking to buy a new pet to add to their household.

 

Unfair. That's all life felt like sometimes.

 

"Sorry." She couldn't help but mutter, watching as a kind smile formed on Cassandra, a there's nothing to apologize for not having to be said from the smoothed look on her face.

 

She gave the younger woman a nod of her head before turning to 10K, tilting her head up as she watched him scratch behind the lab's ears. "What about you Sniper Boy?" The teen's (Addy assumed he was still a teenager) head tilted towards her, hand still running through the long golden hair of the retriever.

 

Addy didn't expect him to answer much, but the spell he and Cassandra had been stuck in since Philly seemed to wane some. They seemed a bit more open, less disassociated from the world around them. Not by much, but a little bit always meant the most.

 

The light shake of his head, black strands of unbrushed hair swaying back and forth, was enough to answer her question. The sniper's eyes glued to the dog that rested at his leg, something akin to a smile lighting up his face.

 

She gave him a nod, knowing he wouldn't catch it with his face turned towards the floor, but his eyes trailed up to look at them, a hesitancy falling from his lips for a spilt second before he spoke. "Pa always talked about getting one. For hunting." He added after a minute, fingers curling into the dog's coat. "Never got one."

 

They waited for a bit, letting the boy open up at his own pace. Out of all the questions she could have asked, she hadn't thought this one would trigger the sniper to talk more than he had for the past weeks with them.

 

A fond memory seemed to slip through his mind, a smile pulling the corners of his lips up, swallowing back a lump that rested in his throat. "Our neighbor…um-- up the mountain." His hand quickly shot a bit above his head, as if to reference the distance away from where he used to live. The lab beside him startled, pulling 10K's attention back to the dog as he slowly lowered his hand. "She always thought we had a dog. Used to give us…kibble bits all the time."

 

The idea of stacked bags of dog food resting in the corner of 10K's house, unused from a mistaking, albeit kind gesture of a well-meaning neighbor had a laugh bubbling against her own will. The smile that thoughtfully rested across Cassandra's face seemed even more pronounced; a breathy giggle huffed out of her as she bit her lip. Mack seemed just as amused, nodding his head as he bit down a chuckle.

 

"What'd you do with them?" Cassandra beat her to it, shifting her body so she could face 10K.

 

Addy didn't miss the shy look that passed his face when the younger woman put her attention on him. Ooh. Looks like someone has a crush.

 

He stammered a bit, turning away from them as he thought over Cass's question. They gave him time, figuring for the moment, they had some to spare.

 

Finally, his attention did turn back to them. "Pa figured after a while we had to use it up."

 

That seemed just about where his story ended. Open and ambiguous, if anything, and Addy wanted to know more.

 

"Please don't tell me you ate it." There seemed to be a hint of disgust, if only a little, that tinted Mack's tone. All the while a lighthearted playfulness seemed to engulf his usual stoic, irritated, yet flattering demeanor.

 

The small shrug they got in reply had a chorus of joking repulse at the idea of eating dog food. Not like they all hadn't at least tried it at some point in their lives.

 

The laugh Addy had been trying to hold down made its way out, shaking her head as she looked towards the sniper. "Why is it when talking about guns, zombies, or animals, it always gets you to open up more?"

 

A blush seemed to creep up his neck, facing away from them again as his lanky form seemed to shrink back into himself. She had only meant it jokingly, but the way he moved back from the attention, showed he'd interpreted it an opposite way.

 

She sobered up quickly from her euphonic high, the laugh that cut through his throat lessening as she waved her hands out in front of her. "No, no, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It's good." She gave him a smile, the gentle, kind, but careful smile that she hoped rekindled trust between the people she felt she was getting close to. "I'm glad."

 

He didn't shrink any further, nodding his head as a more relaxed posture encompassed him. 10K's hand still running through the lab's fur. She took that as a good sign, leaning back into Mack's chest again, counting the times his chest rose and fell, disregarding that it could always be his last.

 

Addy drank up the peace that settled over them, the stagnant air of urine and piles of fecal stinging her nose, being the only thing she regretted in the moment. She let her eyelids fall, an untroubled sigh rumbling through her chest as she leaned against her boyfriend's. Everything so calm, from the animals plopping themselves down on the cool tiled floors, to the nails of the dogs tapping against the ground.

 

She didn't want it to end.

 

But life is unfair, and the world takes away just as much as it gives, never with an exact time or amount.

 

The guns that rattled from the guarded suits of bulletproof armor and white masks caught Addy's attention first. She watched as the filed into the room, shouting orders at the camp members to get out. The four of the group were already up, hoping to make their way towards the door with the rest of the camp's members. The doors shuttered closed in front of them when the last of the women of the camp hurried outside. No chance for Addy, Mack, 10K, and Cassandra to escape when that was the only exit out. The guards, white masking showing nothing but the tops of their foreheads and the scowl in their eyes, turned towards them, guns aimed at their chest.

 

----- line break ----

 

Murphy's POV

 

He'd seen that smile before. That poised, vindictive, assured smile that spread across the person's face, pulling the corners of the lips up to show the predatory gleam of their teeth underneath. Murphy's done it a couple times before, no doubt. Back in Toivo or Spokane, the ruler among that many, fates lied in his hand to do good. To be safe, be without fear.

 

The only thing that sparked from Markson's smile was fear, instilled into whomever would look at it.
 

Blake sure as hell caught on to it, her hands clutching the fabric of her pants, eyes bouncing anxiously across the table before landing on his. Murphy refused to assure her of anything, or even acknowledge it. He told her before they shouldn't have come in here--- well, more like looked at her before to convey the message, but whatever. Point still stands. She didn't listen and now here they are.

 

Piled under more shit than they were already drowning in.

 

"Protection." The insane man that sat at the head of the table answered, eyes sliding past them like he had no care in the world. Adds up to about as much as what Murphy saw in Ava's memories of him. The recklessness, the dangerous air that engulfed any sense he could form. Even in the earlier years, before the wear and tear of the Zombie Apocalypse withered him into a vengeful man destined to cause more harm to a world that was left to die.

 

"Protection from what exactly?" There was a bite in Warren's tone, a wariness that plagued her eyes. "If you don't mind me asking." But there was also that daring approach, that rebel against the one that seemed to hold more power above them.

 

 "I'm sure you've meant Mr. Reed?" Markson hummed, cocking his head to the side. "He never leaves A1. Not anymore unless you force him."

 

That wacko? Was that who they were worried about?

 

"The crazy old man huddled back in the corner?" Murphy scoffed, "That's who you need protection from?"

 

For a Sergeant against his forces of Toivo in the future, Markson seemed far too incompetent to hold any sort of command. And if he was afraid of the old and the insane, nothing but a flesh sack of frail bones and wispy white hair; then Murphy really held Markson to too high of a standard. Or a threat, for that matter.

 

Markson shook his head, more than affronted to Murphy's choice of words. "Not who we need protection from." The man's fists tapped against the table, back straightening as his shoulders rolled to the back of the chair. "He's someone who needs protection."

 

"What? From dementia?" Murphy shot back, getting a slight chuckle from Doc to his side, before the older man covered it up with a cough and an apology.

 

Warren's face smoothed in concern, a worry taking over her form as she leaned forward in her chair. "Is someone after him?"

 

Markson gave a nod, nothing bothered or worried that creased over the light wrinkles on his face. "A group. We don't know who they are, or why they want him. We've figured it must have been something he did before the apocalypse in his line of work, but Mr. Reed refuses to tell us what exactly."

 

Oh great. Another group hunting down people for whatever reason their demented minds conjugated.

 

"So, he pissed off a few people before the apocalypse, and they've decided to hunt him down three years after the zombies rose?" Disbelief rolled off of Garnett's tone, staring at the Sergeant. "That doesn't make sense. What would have triggered it?"

 

"We don't know." Markson sighed, eyes veering past the group. "He must've held a high rank back then. In some field of experimentation. Science of whatever sorts."

 

Survivor of the apocalypse who probably held a position as a scientist getting hounded by another group of survivors? Why did this sound so eerily familiar?

 

"They want him for what he can do?" Doc asked, wrinkles creased across his forehead. "I don't know, man. We all saw the same guy, right? He didn't look like he was in the right state of mind to do…anything."

 

"Probably not." Markson agreed. "But he was still on the man's list, and he vowed to come back with stronger reinforcements had we not provided him with who he asked for."

 

"Wait-" Blake was quick to interrupt, hands raised just a bit above the table. "List, what list? Like of people?"

 

At Markson's hum of confirmation, Blake stole a glance towards Murphy. He could all but feel that her heart rate had spiked, muttering "What the hell?" under her breath.

 

Murphy couldn't help but stare at the Sergeant, breath caught in his throat, feeling the same exact way that Blake felt tripled. Groups, chasing after people in scientific ranked positions, warnings, lists. Flashbacks of Zona and Mercy Lab were already running through his mind as he raised his hands onto the table.

 

"So that's it?" Play it up. Act dumb, like you have no clue in hell what's happening. "That's all your giving us? We're supposed to protect a wacko from another lunatic?" Murphy faked a laugh, but maybe it was real, just to the absurdity of the situation they managed to get dragged into this time. Early on if anything, with another freaking person. "Did he at least give you a name? Common curtesy?" Mocking, because what the hell else should he say to get more information?

 

Murphy ignored the glares, attention focused on the Sergeant that stared right back at him. "No name. Just a man with a bald head, nice suit, and sandals, if you can believe that."

 

Yeah, Murphy could. Because that's exactly The Man they went up against a bit more than a year into the future from now.

 

"Hard to." Doc's voice carried across the table, the lightness it usually held dimmed some, "But I've seen some crazy shit this past week alone, so can't say I'm a non-believer."

 

Yeah, no. Murphy wasn't doing this. He wasn't going to drag the group into this. He knew what they were going up against, who they were going up against, and he did not want to be caught up in that bullshit.

 

"Listen, great offer and all, but I'm sure we can take our services elsewhere. Right, Warren?" He nodded her way, but the woman didn't budge, staring between him and the Sergeant. "C'mon guys. Let's go!" He motioned to pull them up, Blake already halfway out of her seat once she got the hint. Thank God she wasn't always as dumb as she looked.

 

"Murphy, hold on a damn minute." The command in Warren's voice was not unheard, but he didn't care to follow through with it at the moment anyhow.

 

"Why? Need another second to ponder whether we want to risk our lives over something bigger than we're all probably going to die doing?" Not to mention Zona's the puppeteer behind all the strings being pulled with this mission. "Did you forget about the mission we're trying to pull off? Or has that not become a main priority anymore?"

 

The deriding and ridicule that plagued his tone was setting them off, he could see it as clear as day.

 

"Shut the hell up for one second, alright? Yes, the mission is top priority, but we're not going to get anywhere without supplies." Garnett lowered his hands, the seething rage that started to pour off of his increasingly loud voice quelling as he turned back to Markson. "I'm sorry, Sergeant, but this seems out of our league. I'm not sure we're equipped enough to handle protecting a man from this…group."

 

The way Markson's face fell couldn't have been a good sign, a pit already forming at the bottom of his stomach.

 

"I see." That sigh, the confidence intermixed within the façade of defeat. "I expected it to come down to this."

 

Markson motioned for the guards near the door, gesturing them to bring in whatever laid behind it. Warren, Garnett, Blake, Doc, himself, all on high alert already, pulled themselves up from their seats, expecting the inevitable fight to break loose. Nothing good would come from this, they knew that much, expected that much.

 

Because it wouldn't be a Zombie Apocalypse if you didn't have assholes threatening your life on top of knowing the risen dead were doing the same.

 

They were barely able to get out of their seats before the guards still in the house had their weapons trained on them, the clicks of the guns enough to grab their attention before they saw it. The smirk that lined across the unstable man's face was threatening, lost to the vulnerability that masked it as four guards shuffled into the room dragging four bodies in front of them. Guns placed to Mack, Addy, 10K, and Cassandra's side; fear, tightening their chest and widening their eyes, from all the members of the group.

 

"Now," Markson paced in front of the group, between the young adults held at gunpoint, to the adults defenseless to the firearms around the room. "As far as negotiations lie; you help us protect Mr. Reed, and you get supplies along with your lives being spared."

 

If the snarls and glares he got were noticed, he didn't acknowledge them as she stalked towards Garnett, holding one hand out for a handshake.

 

"Do we have a deal?"

Notes:

Hope you all have a great holiday (Thanksgiving is coming up really quick, my gosh), and wishing well to all the days after that.

Chapter 20: Reappearing Faces (Part Three)

Notes:

Reappearing Faces as a whole has been giving me a lot of trouble trying to get out. This is the last part, so I hope you all enjoyed it. My schedule for posting is going to be majorly less than when I first started posting this story, but hopefully that offers for more time editing. Glad to be back though!

Murphy's POV:

 

Garnett had made the deal-- not like they had much of an option. If a zombie bites you in the neck, you don't have much of a choice other than stopping the inevitable.

 

Considering Murphy's case, sure there could be some sort of alternative, a leeway of sorts, if it was put into fruition prior. But the sudden guns to the youngest members' of the groups chests, and the rest of the guard's weapons aimed on them didn't provide much thinking room. So, taking the deal was their only option in the spur of the moment, no matter how much Murphy despised it.

 

However long they had before The Man decided to rear his bald-ass head again wasn't provided to them-- Markson so kindly ordering Operation Bitemark into groups that would surveillance the area.

 

Murphy had to admit, the man knew how to divide a group for his own benefit. He was constantly keeping them separate, distancing them away from each other so any possibility of a plan was stripped away from them. Part of the team always on the opposite end from each other, always away, always guarded by some sorry excuse of backup men and women off to the side.

 

Murphy never held Markson to a high standard-- never really had a reason to. A war Sergeant commanding an army of The Risen against his Blends should have warranted some degree of respect from him, but Murphy could never find it in himself to give Markson any admiration at all.

 

Instead of a brave man leading a militia of zombie apocalypse survivors to keep humanity 'free'-- that was only a façade, a mask used to hide the grieving man drowning in his own insanity and self-pity. There was nothing there that Murphy could find as respectable, nothing he could see that would make him believe Markson would ever be a threat.

 

Could he be considered a threat?

 

At the moment, it sure looked like it, but Murphy would never admit it. Quite frankly, threat seemed too strong of a word to use for Markson. He was…problematic. An obstacle in the way, but not a threat. Guns and armed men against them ignored. 

 

According to Markson's plan, Warren and Garnett would work along the front lines near the entrance. Minimal backup would be there, because hey-- why sacrifice your own men when you kidnap others to do your bidding? Himself, Doc, and of course Blake would be taking positions further back where the weakest points of the camp were located.

 

And wasn't it lucky that the weakest point of the camp was right where the mutt mill was at?

 

If shooting ever broke out here, or hell, if a zombie managed to sneak its way into the camp and find some cat as a delicious snack, they'd be dealing with an uprising of zombie animals along with The Man's forces. For what? Just to save goddamn Reed?

 

Wasn't worth the trouble, in Murphy's opinion, but when has that ever mattered?

 

Supposedly, Markson liked to keep the younger members of the group together. Murphy couldn't find any reason for it, but here he was trying to justify Markson's mindset, so who the hell knew where his thought-process was at. Addy, Mack, 10K, and Cassandra would be filling in the positions near the entrance, again farther from Operation Bitemark, but close enough that from their eagle-eyed position on the roof, they'd be able to keep watch of the group.

 

A luxury that Murphy has found out Markson was not so readily giving them.

 

Among the many atrocious designs that Home Falls consisted of, weapon storage was not, by any means, the best planned. Surprisingly, one that did heed an argument from the group.

 

"Why the hell would you lock your weapons behind your camp?" Warren's face, although schooled to her fear as she stared at the barrels of the guns, was burning with an anger. Red had flared over her dark toned cheeks, narrowed eyes giving Markson what Murphy could so eloquently call, a death stare.

 

"It was a measure to keep camp members from breaking into the entrance and stealing their weapons back!" The accusation hadn't sat well with Markson, gritted teeth, yellow and crooked, bared at them as he growled. "We don't need an attack from the inside when we are already being attacked from the outside! On multiple fronts, for that matter."

 

Which made sense, sure. Provincetown didn't hold the best record in Murphy's book in that regard. They were weapons-free, yeah, but kept them right at the camp. If the guards had ever been, ignoring the irony, caught off guard, or even killed, it was no trouble for some wackos to go in and steal their guns back.

 

But keeping their weapons-- something that is really freakin' valuable and important to have during a literal zombie apocalypse-- almost a quarter of a mile away from the camp that need protection, was outright stupid. Another point to the books as to why Markson was, One: not a threat, and Two: an insensible, crazy halfwit.

 

Amongst the tallies Markson was racking up, the man had also offered that the younger members of Operation Bitemark be the ones to retrieve the weaponry so that they stood a chance against The Man's forces. Which, if Murphy heard correctly, could be appearing from any side because Markson just wasn't sure.

 

"Real smart, asshole." He could feel the sarcasm leaking off of his tongue before he registered he'd said anything aloud. "Care to send us into a mosh pit of zombies next because you left your common sense behind?"

 

Murphy was partly surprised at the lack of chiding, but he wasn't unhappy about it. They all seemed to share a mutual feeling over Markson's lack of war effort and strategic planning, so long as they didn't go over the deep end in chewing Markson's ass out, the audible frustrations were warranted.

 

It hadn't done them much good though, in the end. Markson still rallied them up and spaced them away from one another to fight a war they had tried to refuse. It was bullshit, but he could see it coming from a mile away. People in the apocalypse didn't give help just because they were wonderful and good. They did for a reason-- a purpose. They needed you for something to benefit themselves because, in the end, it all came down to a man eat man world. You survive at the expense of others.

 

It hadn't taken Murphy that long to realize it. Matter of fact, he had come to that conclusion only a couple months in when the apocalypse started the first time.

 

This time was…different. He wasn't just looking out for himself anymore, not like he used to. He had the group to worry about-- their lives and survival. He had Lucy-- or will have Lucy, shortly. She was his main priority to get to, to protect, from Blake, the Risen, and anyone else stupid enough to go after his little girl.

 

Which made this encounter with The Man highly inopportune to her safety. Or, for that matter, Operation Bitemark's. Because, how in the hell is he supposed to protect the group-- spread out all over the forsaken outpost, mind you-- from a threat he never experienced in the past life?

 

Shit. Screw Hammond. Screw mentioning Home Falls, and screw keeping that man alive to begin with. He thought he could-- thought he could save the Lieutenant and look where that ended up. Garnett hates him-- refuses to trust him, they got redirected to Ohio for God's sake, ran right into a delusional, younger Markson of all people, and now they're dealing with The Man of all assholes who decided to start his list at Home Falls with Dr. Goddamn Reed.

 

And to add onto all the pain and suffering Murphy knew he had to go through, Blake was here with him, insufferably staring at him like she was high on Z-Weed watching him grow a third head.

 

Murphy shot her a glare, even a snarl as his lip curled up, just so he was sure she received the message that he blamed her for this screw-up. They could have been out of here had she got the clue ahead of time to use her advantage with the group's trust to lead them away. If Murphy had had that trust, they would have been safe.

 

But of course he didn't, because Blake had to make his life even harder than it already was.

 

She blinked slowly as if she had been as spaced out as he was, her head sluggishly moving upwards so she could gaze just below the afternoon sun, the metal glistening with a sheen as if it weren't as rusted and battered to hell and back as it actually was. Her fingers endlessly tapped against her thighs, which, come to think of it, seemed to be a nervous tick of hers. A tell she tried to hide but miserably failed to do.

 

 "Not sure what we're supposed to be doing here." The silence that crowded the air, save for the constant howls and hisses of the animals in the building beside them, had gone on for long enough. Doc had been pacing the dirt covered space for the past however long they had been sitting there, and him and Blake had just been plopped down like useless lumps of rocks waiting for something to happen.

 

Honestly, it was quite anticlimactic.

 

Murphy assumed that was good, but it didn't quell the boredom that started to rise.

 

"I mean, we barely got any weapons to defend ourselves." It was ridiculous. They had to realize that. Markson didn't give them any weapons besides a baseball bat for Blake, two old hammers that looked as if the metal was falling off the rotting wood for Doc, and Murphy wasn't even spared a glance when that son of a bitch handed him a kitchen knife.

 

The piece of junk was dull, barely sharpened like someone feared a camp member would go after another person with it. Or hell, use it on themselves. To be quite honest, if Murphy was stuck in this place having to deal with Markson as the leader, he'd probably been the first to end it-- starting a zombie infestation in the military camp's walls be damned.

 

Picking up the knife from where he had thrown it on the ground when he first started ranting out here, he, again, showed it off to Doc and Blake. The disgust and dissatisfaction clear enough to blacken the hearts of anyone in a mile's radius.

 

"What's he want us to do with this? Huh?" He twirled it between his fingers in a show, getting an eyeroll from Blake while Doc tilted his head, sparing Murphy more attention in his ongoing rant. "It sure as hell isn't going to save me from a zombie."

 

As if to prove his point, he ran the knife along the tip of his finger, pulling at his skin but refusing to leave a scratch.

 

"Careful with that, man." Doc seemed alarmed, in the least, eyebrows bunching together as he moved closer to Murphy.

 

"Why?!" He made a grand display of throwing his arms in the air, letting the knife hang loosely from in between his fingers. "It's not going to do jack-shit, Doc. Watch." He positioned the tip to the palm of his hand, pushing down considerably harder than he had the first time, barely opening a scratch as tiny droplets of blood started to ooze out. "See!"

 

"Murphy, quit it." Blake was on her feet now-- And who the hell did she think she was telling him what to do? There was only one person who was allowed to do that, and Robert Warren wasn't anywhere in his sight. "Don't go wasting your precious blood just because you want to prove a point. "

 

'Precious blood.' Besides holding the information to save Operation Bitemark, and by extension, the world, his blood was the only thing keeping him alive right now. Lo and behold Blake McLanley, the manipulative hypocrite of the apocalypse thinking she could save the world and his group.

 

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart." He pushed himself to his feet, barely a feet steps away from her before he was right up in her space. "Did I miss the memo that you're the one in charge now?" She didn't control him; she wasn't going to hold power over him like she thinks she does. He wouldn't let her, and he sure as hell wouldn't let her think that way.

 

"Obviously, you did." She moved just as close, a few inches shorter than him but craning her head back in a show that gave the illusion they were closer in height. Her hands lingered in balled fists like she was readying to punch him, but for whatever reason, Blake decided to be civil. Normal camp member, former Blue Sky resident. Never a part of the Risen, didn't know anything about the past. She was a regular survivor of the apocalypse.

 

And yet, somehow, Murphy was managing to push the right buttons. Pride swelled in his chest, and he'd be damned if he didn't pry at her further.

 

Blake already showed him that if he pushed her just the right amount, he could get a rise out of her. Anything that made her look suspicious, that pointed the group to the past life. Anything that had to do with The Risen or time travel; Blake tended to react out on. As if a kick to his shin wasn't enough to prove the point or a gun to his side when she was sure the rest of the group wasn't looking.

 

"Oh yeah? The simple Blue Sky survivor got somethin' over me? You know something I don't?"

 

She paled, fists loosening from their whitened knuckled grasp before tightening again. Her arms raising, pulling back like she was about to deck him--

 

"Alright you two. Give it up." -Before Doc stepped in the middle of them, grabbing Blake by the shoulders to pull her back.

 

"Murphy, not the time, man." He turned to Blake, releasing her shoulders as the woman unfurled her fists. Horrified, almost, like she hadn't realized how she was reacting. "We're trying to save his ass. Remember? So that means no hitting, or kicking, or causing him any harm. Warren would give us hell if she found out."

 

Doc was the mediator. Chill, leveled and relaxed. He knew how to defuse a fight before it got too far. Murphy could only hope his words got to Doc. Hope that he could plant enough distrust in Blake-- in the woman he wasn't supposed to know, to gain his friend back from the Risen member that strived to take him away.

 

Blake cooled, but Murphy could see her teeth grinding against each other as she went to retrieve her propped up wooden baseball bat. Doc, having quelled the fight, let out a sigh of relief, running a hand through the white strands of his wispy hair before turning to Murphy.

 

"Sorry about her." It was more embarrassment to Blake's actions than sympathy, but Murphy would take it. "Least it wasn't your shin this time around."

 

Past Life Murphy probably would've grimaced-- probably wouldn't brushed Doc off with a grumble and hold a pissy grudge for the rest of the day. Maybe week, if he really felt like it. Not to say Murphy wasn't going to hold a grudge against Blake now, but he did let himself grin freely, teeth that he knew were starting to decay from his gums flashing a smile Doc's way.

 

He missed this. He missed the relationships that he lost and the relationships he is starting to rebuild. On some fronts it's proving to be a struggle, and Blake's not helping the cause. But with others-- with Doc, sometimes he really does feel like he's getting somewhere. He really does feel like if he closed his eyes long enough, it could be like it used to.

 

Not that it was, and Murphy wasn't the type of person to hold onto hope like that. He'll take the world at face value when it comes down to it, and right now he can accept that he's still desperately trying to gain the trust of his group back. 

 

"She'll let you down. Trust me." Doc's puzzled look said it all, and that meant he had absolutely no clue in hell what Murphy was referencing. In hindsight, it sounded less of how he meant it and more of how he hoped the group didn't think of them as. Regardless, he let it slide by before he had the chance to correct it, silently hoping that when he did bring the truth to the light, it would make more sense.

 

He didn't miss the scowl Blake threw his way, letting the bat rest against her shoulder as her foot furiously tapped against the ground. Her eyes wandered to Doc, watching as the older man went back to his spot, stopping from pacing for the time being and instead checking the outside of the barbed wired metal fence. Doc was just the right distance away for Blake to hurry back over to Murphy, eyes still trained on Doc as he leaned to look through towards the wood line.

 

Murphy had half a mind to step away and head to Doc instead. Blake, ever since they had been led out here and Markson's guards backed off a significant distance from them, had been attempting to have a one-on-one chat with him. Not the good kind either, Murphy knew, and definitely one he wasn't going to be happy about.

 

But she was adamant and wasn't letting it go. Still, Murphy couldn't shake the feeling that walking away from her and stripping her any option of a conversation would be majorly satisfying.

 

She was by his side before Murphy could make up his mind, and damn wouldn't it be funny if he called to Doc right now. She was likely to ask about the future, The Man mayhap, or something along the lines of the Past Life. 'Bout all she came to him for if it wasn't some holier than thou lecture, reminders of the Risen and their stupid letter they sent him, or whatever she found to pester him with.

 

He spared her the attention, briefly, just to build her hopes up for answers. Not like he had much to give anyway. He was completely in the dark right now besides for the bare minimum of information.

 

Blake didn't waste a second, pursed lips opening the minute she knew Doc couldn't hear them. "What's the list?" The curiosity in her voice was overruled with a distrust, plagued with a fear she was desperately trying to hide from him.

 

"Thought you paid better attention than that." He sneered back at her, barely sparing her a glance as he kept his eyes towards the knife he was twirling in his hands.

 

It would be so easy right now. Blake by his side, a knife in his hand. He could take her out of the picture completely, remove any threat of her killing his group, of her harming Lucy. Operation Do-Over, The Risen-- gone if he could stab her in the right place.

 

And what would the group do about it? They couldn't kill him. He was too important for that. Sure, they might tie him up, might keep him bound and treat him like an actual prisoner, but wasn't that worth the risk? He could save them so easily. He could end this nightmare with the Risen member that stood by his side.

 

What a fantasy that would be. He kills one of his group's members-- someone who's weaseled her way into relationships and formed bonds that give her a significant amount of trust, that would just lower, if not destroy, the trust Murphy is trying to build up with the group. He'd have no way to protect them because they would refuse to listen to him more than they do now.

 

As easy as it would be, it was not worth the risk. Back to Plan A-- killing her off when nobody was around to see it. An accident. A zombie came too close and she couldn't protect herself. A shoot-out broke out and Blake was in the way. It may take longer, but it was safer.

 

It may not be safer with Blake around, but that just meant he'd have to keep a closer eye on her.

 

He did finally turn his attention to her, meeting Blake's dark eyes. "Didn't your lunatic Sergeant say it was a list of people?" He hummed, raising an eyebrow knowing full well how to get a rise out of Blake.

 

"No shit, Dick Tracy." Those black eyes rolled like marbles, Blake all but having to bite her tongue when she went to speak again. As vile as ever, Murphy noted, like venom leaking from her tongue. "You knew about the list, didn't you?"

 

Almost like the pieces finally fit together in that pea shaped brain of hers. Well done.

 

"I knew about a list, sure." He intended to keep being as vague as possible. Anything to get his high ground over hers.

 

"Damn it, Murphy." She was quick to whirl on him, her bat gripped in her hands like a lifeline, but kept away from actually being near him. "You're not making this easy."

 

"And what made you think I would?" He bit out at her, taking one step closer in hopes that it would intimidate her. Briefly, he saw her hesitate, one foot barely moving her back before she thought better of it and kept planted in her spot. "Am I supposed to say, 'thank you' and spill my guts on everything that's happened in this damn apocalypse? News flash: Being sent back in time against my own free will definitely wouldn't up your chances at getting information in return, Sweetheart." 

 

The corner of her lip pulled upwards, black eyes narrowing until Murphy was sure the white was completely gone. Like a demon. Suits Blake rather well, in his humble opinion. "You know all about taking a person's free will away, don't you?" The jab wasn't going to send him over the deep end. He knew he was right-- is right, to have done what he did. Blake was delusional, thick-skulled even. She couldn't see a bright future because she wanted to keep looking down the dark hall of the past.

 

She needed to grow up. The whole Risen needed a reality check. Needed to look in the mirror, actually, if they wanted to keep accusing him of his 'wrong-doings'.

 

This time, she did advance closer to him, bat gingerly held at her side. "I told you before, and I will continue to repeat myself until you actually unclog your damn ears and listen to me. I want to save Operation Bitemark, just like you do." She didn't want to save them. He did, not her. She was manipulative, cunning. She was using them as an excuse to get what she wanted.

 

"I don't want them to end up dead. Not again. Never again." Oh God, with the tiny voice crack as well. She's really playing this up, isn't she? "And I'll make sure they don't. But I can't do that without you." Her finger jammed into his shoulder, harsh, like it was a reminder that this wasn't some pep-talk. "And if you keep withholding information from me for whatever absurd reason you've come up with, I'll fail and they'll die." She'll kill them. She already failed.-- with Hammond, with the group. "I can't protect them if I don't know what's going to happen. That's the only damn reason you still remember."

 

And it will be the exact reason that she does fail. His knowledge will be the reason that she falls.

 

He considered her for a second-- her façade she used as a shield, the lies she has told to worm her way into this group. He never got to turn her into his Blend, and by God did he wish he would have, but he could read her better than she realized. The Risen were all delusional. Driven by unrealistic beliefs on what the human race should be like. Clouded with the judgement that bad people could get better. That good in the world could be achieved.

 

It was a fantasy. A dream that was never going to happen because it was too good to be true. Given their own free will, people are cursed to destroy and kill. They're evil, whether it be in little or big amounts. And Murphy saw that, he sees it when everybody else refuses to acknowledge it. They hold hope for a better tomorrow, but that day will never come.

 

The Blend race was the only way any semblance of peace could be restored in the world and one little faulty found made everyone turn against it. Couldn't they see that without the intention to kill, with the innate sense to do wrong monitored, the world would be so much better off?

 

And here Blake was treating him like he is the bad guy. 'Taking away a person's free will'? Bullshit. He's taking away their ingrained tendency to hurt and kill and murder. He's taking away the evil to finally give the world the good it lacked.

 

"Real inspiring, McLanley." Sarcasm was the best way to deflect her little speech. "I gotta admit though, you had too many 'I's and 'me's in there. Might want to work on that for the next time."

 

And oh boy she was definitely fuming. Her hand curled around the bat and Murphy was 70% sure she was going to hit him with it-- Negan style, maybe.

 

"Just tell me what the list is about." This might be the closest he's seen Blake beg. "Or the guy who's after Mr. Reed. Something, Murphy. I can't let them die."

 

"I won't let them die." How dare she think she'll be the one to save them. Murphy is the only goddamn reason they are going to survive-- not Blake. Does she think he's incapable? Does she think he wants them to die?

 

"Then let us work together so they don't!" It was a cry of frustration, her voice raising only a bit before she realized she had to keep quiet. "For God's sake Murphy, we've been over this I don't know how many frickin' times before."

 

Working together with a Risen member? He'd rather shoot himself.

 

But she was going to pound him over and over again until he gave her something. Blake was rather unbearable like that.

 

"It's a list of scientists, Blake." Conceding didn't mean defeat. It meant he didn't have to get an earful. Besides, he didn't have to tell her everything. Just enough that she was satisfied and he kept his advantage over her. "Important people that'll do dangerous things. But, hey. Guess who was the Savior of that whole show, hm?"

 

Among the group, of course. Then again, his blood was the reason Zona went to shit, so as much as it was a self-sabotage on their end with the vaccine, Murphy really did a lot of the work as the human blood-bag.

 

Blake's eyebrow raised, mind slowly working as she blinked up at him. "You've dealt with these people before?"

 

Yeah, we're not getting into all of that. "You could say so."

 

"So, who's this guy then? Bald head sandal wearing dude?"

 

Murphy was tempted to just say The Man to see her reaction, but he withheld himself from doing so. "Don't have a clue." He lied, shrugging his shoulders. "This whole scenario is new to me." Which was technically true. He'd been a part of one of The Man's tirades to retrieve a scientist-- Teller at the very forefront of his mind. He had also been a part of The Man kidnapping his daughter, which the son of a bitch was sure to pay for when Murphy could get his hands on him.

 

Other than that, being in Ohio at a camp wasn't on Murphy's grand adventures with the group in the Past Life.

 

"We never dropped by Home Falls looking for supplies. 'Course the universe had to throw a wrench in the wreckage we're already digging ourselves out of."

 

He could see Blake thinking it over, tiny cogs turning in her head like they needed oiling. "What are they kidnapping scientists for then?"

 

But that's one hole Murphy will keep digging for himself. Blake isn't going to get the luxury of knowing, that's for sure.

 

Murphy pointed his attention elsewhere, gone from entertaining Blake any longer as he looked towards Doc. Considering the fact that the older man had been looking out the fence for a good while without breaking concentration, Murphy could place a good bet that Doc was trying to give them the illusion of privacy.

 

Or he was suspicious and trying to ease drop on the conversation. Which, if so, was all the better. Knitted eyebrows and downturn frown on the older man's face was enough of evidence that he heard something and that was enough for Murphy.

 

Doc was catching on, hopefully. Maybe it wouldn't be too long before he could spill the beans to the group.

 

"Hey Doc!" Best way to get out of this conversation was to bring in a person who isn't supposed to hear it. "Need any help over there?" He called, sending a sly smirk Blake's way.

 

"Murphy." She hissed, but by that time, Murphy was already gone.

 

----- line break---

 

Addy's POV:

 

The air was refreshing and cool up here compared to the building that hoarded a foul stench of feces and urine. Addy took a deep breath, letting her eyes fall closed for the split second she knew the universe would allow her to have. It was minute, brief even to have moments like these, and she knew it wouldn't last. Not in the apocalypse; never in the apocalypse.

 

She felt Mack by her side, hands anxiously tapping against the makeshift set up of thrown sandbags giving a hopeful sense of protection on the roof if any gunfire were to break out. Which, Addy had a feeling that it probably would. Considering how Markson described this man and the team that would tag along with him, there was no doubt that the man would have some type of arms defense against them.

 

Opening her eyes again, she surveyed the area in front of them. The path towards the weapons storage unit was through thick brush, meaning anything could be lurking through the growing grass of the spring season and flowering trees. Zombies, humans, a whole mess of a disaster that her, Mack, Cass, and 10K had to make their way through.

 

She wasn't elated by the idea, nervous, but constantly denying herself from feeling scared. She didn't want to hesitate, didn't want to let that fear wash over her because she knew how it would end. She'd be frozen, she'd see them coming towards her, baring their decaying teeth as their rotted flesh created a stench so unbearable Addy was sure the memory could make her puke.

 

She'd gotten used to it now-- the rotting bodies moving in masses and the gory mess of humans being ripped apart by those beasts. It never made the first day all this started easier to remember.

 

With a sigh, she gripped the bow she'd been handed, letting her fingers curl around the wooden grip in an attempt to stabilize herself back into reality. Unfortunately, they didn't have any longer-range weapons but a bow and arrow, and they sure as hell weren't going to hand out guns. She was livid they had taken her Z-Whacker away just to give her a bow.  When one of the guards handed her the weapon, she had wanted nothing more than to wheel around and use it against those holding her and the group hostage.

 

Taking a bow to a fire fight would, by any and all means, end horribly, so she controlled the impulse of doing so.

 

She couldn't get freedom without risking the expense of death. Addy wouldn't do that, never if it cost her and the group's life. And absolutely never if it meant Murphy would be killed. He wasn't expendable in this world, unfortunately. Sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, Addy couldn't help but think it would be a lot nicer to have someone as the cure for humanity who wasn't as proud and cocksure as Murphy could be at times.

 

"When are we going down?" She let the bow slide a bit in her hand, loosening her hold just enough so that her hand didn't feel so stiff.

 

Mack's eyes traveled to the guards that waited near the door to the roof, squinting as if a plan was already forming behind his eyes. A glint of determination and dread covered by a thick mask of annoyance. "Apparently whenever they say so." He mumbled, letting his eyes drift back to her, and God, Addy couldn't hide her smile from him.

 

A wave of confidence seemed to wash over Mack-- his usual stoic form back to his straightened shouldered stance and curiously raised eyebrow. "We got a time guys?" He called. Addy couldn't hide her snicker, and apparently, Cassandra couldn't either, trying to suppress her smirk into a hard frown as she gazed back over the deadly brush they'd have to travel in.

 

The guards gave nothing but a grunt, if anything at all. While Addy had never been in the military, she couldn't shake the feeling that the guards looked like they were standing at attention. She wouldn't be surprised, taking into account this was a military camp.

 

"Guess not." Addy shrugged back, trying to let the confidence that leaked off of waves from Mack wash onto her. She needed it, desperately, if she wanted to complete running through an unknown and virtually covered territory with zombies and humans after them.

 

All because the weapons were locked in a storage facility less than a mile away from here. Wasn't the brightest plan a person could come up with, but they were here now-- forced here really-- so they didn't have much of a choice.

 

She let the bow idly hang from her hand now, running her fingers along the bowstring, if only to take her mind off of what they were waiting to accomplish. Hoping. For what they were hoping to accomplish.

 

They would, she knew. They've been in worse situations, went against worst odds. Camp Blue Sky going up in flames and the school bus of survivors turning Z. The building they had taken shelter being ambushed by zombies. 

 

A massive zombie lurking the floor at the Emergency Headquarters for Infection Control at McClain.

 

A zombie baby locked in a high school's entrance.

 

A refinery filled to the brim with mindless Z's wandering the area in search of the pounding above.

 

…The machine gun and the cannibals-

 

No. She wouldn't let her mind wander back there. She was safe, Cassandra was saved. They all got out of there, they were fine.

 

She tried to hold in her shuddering breath, tensing her shoulders as her grip tightened once more on the bow. Feeling the pressure under her hand was grounding-- reassuring-- calming her enough where she could form words without a shake in her voice.

 

"What do you think the guy looks like?" It was random, she knew, but it was something to get her mind off everything. Something to distract her from her fears. "Besides being bald and wearing sandals."

 

"Probably your typical villain." Mack, God Mack, bless him, knew exactly what she was doing. He was quick to entertain her, taking a step closer so that his shoulders pressed lightly against hers.

 

His hand ran down the length of her arm, resting where her hand curled around the upper limb of the bow. His larger hand covered her, fingers working their way to release her white knuckled grip. "Just prepared for a mid-apocalypse beach trip." His voice quieter-- lower so that only she could hear it. So soothing to her shot nerves that Addy almost dropped the bow entirely just to hold his hand, thinking that it would calm her down just that little bit more.

 

She didn't though, letting one finger loosen from the bow to run along his hand. She did, however, let a much-needed chuckle escape her chest, prying her eyes away from the ominous field below to look into the dark ocean eyes of her boyfriend. "We should take one some time."

 

It was his turn to chuckle, a smile easily slipping across his chapped lips. "Oh yeah?"

 

"Uh-huh." She hummed, shifting the bow from one hand to another so that she could properly hold his. It was rough and grimy thanks to the wear and tear of the apocalypse and unproper bathing techniques. She felt the callouses on his palm rub against the dry skin of her once smooth hands. "Once we get Murphy to California, you and me, we're taking a much-needed vacation."

 

He turned to face her fully, filling in the distance between them as he stared down at her. She smiled up at him, freely and real. Gone were the worries, washed away in Mack's presence, even if it was only temporary. She would take it. Always.

 

"You got a place in mind?" His voice was smooth, drawled slowly as he tilted his head to the side.

 

"A few." When the world stops ending, we can go. We can be free and safe-- together. We'll be a family who survived the end of the world. "You'll just have to wait and see."

 

His smile grew, head ducked closer to hers. "I'm counting on it." So close to her, so quiet and yet booming with emotion that welled in her chest and sprouted a burst of red on her cheeks. She didn't hide her blush, tilting her head closer to his-

 

"Guys!" Like a fire lit between them, Addy jolted back, suddenly aware of her surroundings and the rumbling of approaching engines. She could hear the rocks and gravel kicking up, asphalt on the road not hiding the squeaking of the tires as they halted to a stop near the entrance to the metal gates. "They're here."

 

Mack pulled away at Cassandra's warning, the moment they shared together vanished from their minds. Addy didn't despise that it didn't last, but she hoped for a second longer to be near him. A little longer in the moment the apocalypse rarely gave.

 

"Duck." He ordered, already dropping down behind the bags. "Get down. We don't want them seeing us up here."

 

It was simple knowledge, but none of them cared to argue, listening to Mack as they all fell to the ground. Peering through the cracks in the sandbags, Addy could see men get out. Most were decked in uniform-- Short sleeved black bullet proof vest, the whole get-up completely black in general. Ballcaps covered their heads, dark shaded sunglasses across their eyes; head to toe covered in the dark black attire besides the exposed skin of their arms and bottom portion of their faces. 

 

And then there was another man who stepped out. Tanned skin and a shining bald head gleaming in the afternoon sun. His face was hard-set, frown permanent like stone as his eyes scanned along the gates. Each glance he sent to the people on the inside seeming almost condescending, looking down on the people that stood before him but analyzing their moves every second his eyes landed on them.

 

He was practically in a formal suit, grey jacket and white collar contrasting from the brown sandals that adorned his feet.

 

There was something about the way that he watched the members of the camp, the way his eyes landed on Warren and Garnett, that Addy couldn't stand. Maybe it was those disdainful eyes that peered at the people around him. Maybe it was the smug look that boiled up inside her. Her skin prickled, burning with anger as her hands itched for her Z-Whacker. Overcome with a sudden urge to smash his head in, a fiery pit flaming in her stomach, heating every part of her body with rage until she told herself to calm down.

 

There was something about him that set her off. Something that stained every thought with an outrage of hostility. She couldn't place why, she didn't know why, but it was there and she could barely control it.

 

She took a few breaths to hold it at bay, hands shaking with an anticipation to do something. Whether it was to kill the man or fight for the weapons, she wasn't sure, but she knew she needed something to do with her hands. Addy settled on gripping the bow again, trying to force her fuming mind on to what was being said below.

 

She couldn't make sense of it-- only that Markson had stepped forward with Warren and Garnett close behind. The two men on either side of the gate conversing in what seemed to be a heated exchange of an increasingly hostile Markson and a very calm sandal wearing man.

 

"Why didn't you send us down before they got here?" It was Cass's voice again, filled with suspicion as the young woman spun around to face the guards ducked near the door, every now and again peeking up to watch the exchange down below. "We could've had the weapons before they even arrived!"

 

Her voice was moderate and low, and yet someone, Addy could hear the bitterness attached to the accusations.

 

The one guard eyed them, slow to respond before she picked her head up again to watch Markson argue with the man outside the gates.

 

"Hey! She's talking to you!" Mack, however, let his words sound as violent as he meant them, rounding on the guards. "What're we even doing up here in the first place? We're supposed to be retrieving the weapons!"

 

"Quiet!" The second guard snapped, voice faint as it was hissed out at them.

 

"Then answer the goddamn question." It was demanded this time, and Addy could hardly blame Mack. They hadn't been told anything since being led up here, and now the situation seemed far less than ideal to go down into.

 

"Guys?" The new voice, 10K's, she realized, spoke up for the first since they had been brought up on the roof. "Zombies." He alerted, eyes trained, not on the fence, but the field below that they'd have to travel through.

 

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Mack grunted out, impatience nearly at the max as he watched the few Zs scurry through the brush.

 

The first guard sighed, raising the sights of her gun barely above the ledge of the one-story flat roof to see into the field. "That's why." The guard's voice barely above a whisper, sounding almost tiny, attention suddenly directed on them. "That asshole down there likes surprise attacks. Last time he came, he released them all around the perimeter of the camp."

 

"We were shooting those bastards for days." The second one chimed in, and only then did Addy realize how young they seemed. Youth faces hidden underneath helmets, bulked under whatever limited gear they were wearing. The man and woman seemed about the same age, maybe only a minor age gap, but only just a few years younger than Addy herself.

 

"Da- um.." The girl guard corrected herself, but the word sounded vaguely similar to 'Dad'. "Sergeant Markson commanded that we were not to release you until we knew what attacks we were going to be dealing with."

 

"Otherwise," The boy guard joined in, picking up his head to face them. Addy couldn't help but compare the two guards faces, the similarities of their facial structure all too prominent to ignore that they were most likely related. Both of their light browned skin scattered with scars, little white lines stretching across the boy's jaw and underneath the girl's helmet. "We'd just be sending you on a suicide run. Wouldn't manage to get our weapons 'cause you'd be dead halfway through."

 

That was hardly comforting, but Addy let the words wash over her. Not the time, don't think about it. They face near death every day, waiting for the next attack, the next bite. It wasn't new to feel the looming sense of death hang above your head. To know that at any point in time, anywhere, there was always a chance that each breath you took would be your last. Always a chance that the last face you saw would be a zombie by the next day-- the next hour.

 

There were no assurances. There were no promises that today would be a day that you would live.

 

The rule of the apocalypse was that you live day to day with the knowledge that it would be your last. You were supposed to convince yourself, to force yourself to believe it because any other mindset would be dangerous.

 

You couldn't live your life thinking you were invincible. That strong perceived mentality that nothing could harm you, that there was nothing to fear, ended up getting you killed faster. Maybe it was risking your life to help others. Maybe it was making a quick grab for meds or something that you thought was important. If you thought you were free from death, from the horrors that lurked behind you like your own shadow, that beast would morph to drag you under and show you how completely powerless you actually were.

 

You lived your life knowing you were frail, knowing that every step you take led you closer to death's door. But you didn't let that hold you back. You kept your eye to the shadow that lurked behind you and your mind with the goal of surviving.

 

Addy hated how close she realized that shadow was now creeping up behind her. That looming cloud of dread and death waiting to collapse on her, mocking her with spindly tendrils of fear waiting to pull her under. Pull the people she's grown to love and care for under.

 

"Good to know." Mack huffed, warily eyeing the two young guards. "So what's the plan now?" His voice was flat, aggravated with his grumble as his eyes cast around the rooftop and towards the field they'd travel through.

 

It's not like they had much of a plan to begin with either, but starting their way down into an infested field of Zs was almost certain death by Addy's books.

 

The girl guard went to speak, thin lipped mouth hanging open before shouting broke out from down by the entrance. A tell-tale sound of gunfire spreading bullets into the air and onto the ground. Instinctively, they all ducked, peering behind the sandbags to see whatever the hell was happening.

 

The shots fired dug into the ground. It was a warning shot, Addy thought, by the lack of injuries and the gun faced down in the sandal wearing man's hand. The man looked fed up, the pinch in his eyebrows paled in comparison to the rage that filled his eyes.

 

"I suggest you bring Dr. Henry Reed out here, Sergeant Markson. We know he's here; he knows why we need him. Burying him in your camp isn't doing anyone any favors." Addy could hear that this time, the camp gone silent once the sound of the fired bullets bounced off the walls. The man's voice held a calmness, some sort of twisted unperturbed tone like he wasn't trying to kidnap an old man for whatever insane reason.

 

"I've told you once, you sick son of a bitch, you aren't taking any person off this camp. You've got no reason to be here." Markson's voice was raised, clear with the burning anger that threatened loosely off his tongue.

 

"I'm certain I do." The man tilted his head, if only a bit, like he had a superior authority over the people that stood before him. "I've been instructed to bring Dr. Henry Reed in, for humanity's sake-"

 

"He's senile! You ain't gonna get a thing off that man even if you locked him in a room and demanded answers." Markson's rage was at a boiling point, seething as he interrupted the man, every logical bit of common sense thrown out the window as he provoked the displeased man with a gun.

 

"I'm sure the people that I bring him to have matters of handling his situation. I wouldn't worry about that." From Addy's distance, she couldn't see the set of his jaw, tensed as his fiery eyes burned holes into Markson. "What I'm afraid you'll have to worry over-" The man looked down to his gun as if counting the bullets left in the chamber. "-is the hoard of zombies making their way to you. I've stated my peace negotiation. Your good doctor for the safety of your camp, and if I remember correctly, your children, Sergeant Markson."

 

Markson bristled, a fit of yelling making its way past his lips, but the man ignored it, staring plainly at the Sergeant before continuing. "You still have time to hand Dr. Henry Reed over. I've been merciful up until this point, but I have no trouble burning your camp to the ground if it means that I finish my job."

 

Addy pulled away with a gasp, taken aback as she reared away from the sandbags.

 

The hell? What the absolute hell? She knew, of course she knows, that there were the sick minded in the world and that there would be those same people in the apocalypse. Maybe more, maybe worse. Prompted by the lack of laws and rules and utter free will the desolate dying world gave them.

 

But this? This...madness-- it was sickening.

 

Why?! Why did they need Dr. Reed, and what were they-- Oh God, what would they do to him? Were they going to torture that poor old man, curled up in the corner with white whisps of hair falling in his face, for information he probably could barely recall? Was the man below going to kill everyone here without a second thought for a single thread of hope that the feeble man in hiding could provide him-- the people he worked for-- with some type of information?

 

She nearly missed what was being said around her, about once the man and his team were distracted, they could rise from the roof and hold the dead in the thick brush off. The gunshot would have drawn most of the zombies to the front-- if that, the younger boy guard had reminded. There were weak spots in the camp, ways the zombies could break through and get in. There were other guards stationed there to handle them, but the man below at the fence already knew his strategic points.

 

Home Falls would be bombarded by zombies from all sides. The front would attract the most, and when the brain eating beasts found holes in the fencing, they'd get in that way too.

 

Now that most of the zombies were distracted by the sudden boom at the front, and gunfire from the guards near the entrance had started, they'd have to test their little luck in the fields to the weapon storage.

 

But first, that meant clearing the Zs.

 

The man and his posse of black dressed soldiers were already gone from the front, taking their advantage to find a marked weak spot and get in that way while the guards, Markson, Warren, Garnett, and all the others were distracted. There were others that were supposed to protect Reed, others in the building, hiding the old man in case an attack and kidnapping were to happen on the inside of the camp. Addy felt at least a little better to know the frail, thinned man wasn't completely alone without protection.

 

It was one less thing her mind was concentrating on, nocking another arrow to release at the zombies that popped their heads up in the tall grass. Mack likened it to wack-a-mole, just at a farther distance and with deadly arrow heads piercing through rotten flesh.

 

She wanted to laugh at it. At the absurdity of the whole thing and the horror when she realized what she was doing. Uselessly, she tried to push it down, eyes set on her next target as she released an arrow at the zombie's head.

 

Blonde hair, thick with blood and dirt, swished as the arrow streaked across the zombie's face, barely leaving a gap for a fresh line of thick blood to trickle down from.

 

"Damnit." She was wasting arrows up here trying to shoot these monsters. Addy was a good shot in her own right-- with guns and bullets. Even with her Z-Whacker she could kick some ass. But a bow and arrow? It wasn't some careless mistake that she never made it onto the archery team when she was in elementary school.

 

Mack didn't seem to be faring much better, the zombie he was aiming for (or at least Addy thought he was aiming for) unfazed as the arrow flew past it, nearly a couple inches to the left of the shoulder rather than the head.

 

It was surprising to see Cassandra's skill with a bow shining through. Each arrow released from the nock embedding perfectly between the zombie's eyes, maybe just a little higher at times, nearly matching 10K's. If not doing better, by the looks of it. By all means, the two of them were effortlessly picking a target, lining their sights, and hitting the zombies in the brain the next second. Swiftly and efficiently, like they hadn't noticed Addy's, or even Mack's staring.

 

"Damn Cass." She hadn't meant to distract the girl, watching as the arrow flew into the dirt below a Z's foot. Addy held back from saying sorry, meeting Cassandra's side-eye with an apologetic look. "I didn't know you were good with a bow." She turned her head towards 10K, a split second passing to let Cassandra answer if she wanted to, so that she could acknowledge the boy. "I didn't doubt you'd be great with it, Sniper Boy." She sent a wink and a smile, getting a slightly hesitant, but otherwise radiant one in return.

 

She felt her heart flutter with care, watching the smile linger on his lips, albeit smaller but there, as he went back to aiming the bow at another zombie's head, subtly counting under his breath.

 

Cassandra turned back to them, briefly sparing them a glance as she started to nock her arrow-- slowly, Addy realized. "I used to be a part of the archery team when I was younger. Competed a couple times. Won a few championships…" She trailed off, a memory faintly pressing behind her fogging eyes before she shook her head to get rid of it. "Never thought it would come in handy one day." She shrugged.

 

"The world surprises people like that, I guess." Addy went back to her own spot on the roof, nocking an arrow but keeping her attention on the fields, watching as the grass swayed in the rushing breeze. The sun was already starting to set, the air around them becoming colder, darkness starting to shroud the light on the ground. It was now or never if they wanted to get to the weapons unit.

 

 "We should get moving." The words slipped from her tongue as soon as the thought came to mind. "We're not going to have much daylight to work with if we stay up here for much longer."

 

The girl guard positioned in a ducked stance to the opposite side of them, aiming at the zombies rushing towards Markson, turned towards them. Her eyes fell onto the fields before her feet were moving her between Cassandra and Mack. "She's right." She cleared, but before Mack or Cassandra could get a word out, she continued. "I'll cover you from up here for about as long as I can see you. After that…" The words were quieter, voice falling as she directed her gaze to the group. "-you're on your own."

 

The others started rushing towards the door, head kept down from the bullets flying through the sky. Addy lingered back, warily eyeing the young woman that stood at the ledge, before she placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was barely even touching the girl, hovering really, but Addy hoped it conveyed the gratitude she was feeling. "Thank you."

 

The girl's jaw tensed, the scars beneath her helmet pulling at her skin. "Go." It didn't sound harsh or demanding. It was weak-- fearful, like the possibility of the group's death rested on her shoulders. "I'll cover you." She repeated, as if it was more to herself, to quell the rising panic in her chest.

 

With that, Addy set off, sparing one last glance at the young duo on the roof before she was making her way down the stairs and out the building. The wind hit her face, blowing her hair into her eyes as she kept her bow raised in front of her. Cassandra and 10K were taking the lead, carefully walking through the brush as her and Mack took the rear.

 

Each step they took was quiet, the crunching of leaves blown off the trees drowned out from the gunfire behind them. Addy's eyes darted all around their little formed square, footfalls quick before the sun started to set even farther.

 

They made it far, or at least, Addy thought they made it far, before any complications arose. Something was rushing through the grass, the crunching of leaves and twigs into the dirt suddenly coming too close for Addy's liking. Too close that she could hear it over the guns and shouting that filled the background noise.

 

All of a sudden, the warning too late, a zombie came barreling out through the brush. The rotting flesh gray with greenish tints lined around gashes of infected holes across the Z's face. The pure whites of its fogged pupils landing its sights on 10K, throwing itself into the boy and flinging a nearly detached arm Cassandra's way, knocking the bow from her hands.

 

10K was quick, putting the bow between him and the zombie to keep it at a distance. The Z towered over 10K, nearly two heads taller. It growled and gnashed at the wood that gagged its mouth, snarling as it threw its hands to clutch 10K's shoulders.

 

Her and Mack's bows were already up, but with the dance that 10K and the Z were doing, they could barely line up a shot without risking hitting 10K. It was so similar to Doc's, to the first time they meant the boy, that Addy feared the world was trying to pull some sick poetic joke on them. Her first instinct was to drop her bow and grab the arrow instead, rushing up to the side of the zombie to stab it in the head.

 

She almost made it there, a step away before she got knocked off her feet.

 

She heard shouting, from her mouth, 10K's, Cassandra's and Mack's. The two free from a zombie's hold trying to save the ones that were fighting against their own. Addy felt her hand pinned down, the zombie's weight on top of her pushing her limbs to the ground. Her face was dangerously close to the Z on top of her, the zombie throwing its head back before its face came down to her neck.

 

She could feel its skin against hers. Fleshy and rotten, peeling from its wrinkles where the skin was broken into the meat and bone. The putrid smell lingered in her nose, like a skunk's spray that wouldn't go away. Fresh metallic blood oozing from its decomposing flesh, dripping from its teeth that grazed across the soft, fragile skin of her neck.

 

The shadow had caught up to her, is all she could think, all she could realize. The next hour had come as the dark clouds' tendrils pulled her under. Further and further from surviving the end of the world.

 

The beast on top of her crumbled as a shot rang through the air. A bullet lodge in the back of the Z's skull, the body collapsing onto her as blood drained from its head onto hers.

 

Thank God. She wanted to huff, but the breath was cut in her throat like the looming fear was still holding her down. Thank God for that girl.

 

She was thankful, so thankful to have been spared the fate of the dead, but her body hadn't caught up to her feelings. Not even her mind had really caught up, the decaying body of the zombie still pressed atop her, foul with its rotting stench and cold with its slacken grasp around her arm and hip.

 

"Get it off. Get it off. Get it off!" They were there, holding her down. Her mother was grabbing at her, but it wasn't her mother. The blood dripping from her lips, the calls of her little brother on the floor, it wasn't real. It wasn't happening. They weren't in the basement; they weren't dying on the floor. Mom wasn't…

 

Mom wasn't one of them.

 

She had to get it off of her. She had to get this thing off.

 

"Please!" She was crying it out, voice tearing at her throat, but she couldn't hear anything besides the growls of her mother pushing against her. The whines of her baby brother dying on the floor, turning a second after she had killed her mom. "Get it off of me!" Wailed out because she couldn't control it. She couldn't get ahold of herself because she was back there.

 

The zombie was pulled off of her, the weight gone from crushing her chest, but even then, she couldn't breathe. A new weight was there, caving in her chest where she couldn’t take in a simple breath. She couldn't even see anything but the blurred image of moving masses in front of her.

 

Blinking away the sight of the swaying light in the basement, she saw the dimming light of the afternoon sun. 10K was out of the zombie's hold, slingshot he kept stashed somewhere on his person back in his hand, grabbing the largest rock he had found on the ground and slinging it right into the middle of the tall, bulked zombie's head that had hovered over him.

 

"Alright David," Mack's voice was clogged in her ears, even as he hauled her up off the ground. "You killed Goliath, now let's go."

 

The grass brushed across her face as she leaned against Mack's chest, wanting nothing more to hold him close long enough for her to compose herself. Little moments. She wanted the little moments in the apocalypse where death wasn't constantly knocking at the door.

 

"Are you alright, baby?" His voice was soft, pressed against her ear as he held her close. She wasn't pressed too closely against him like she wanted, Mack all but dragging her forward as he tried to catch up with Cass and 10K, both of them already rushing to the unit that was finally in their line of vision.

 

"Yeah." Breathed with the first breath she could take since the attack.

 

She wasn't alright, but she'd make it.

 

She had to.

 

-------- Line break-------

 

Murphy's POV:

 

Here's a little tip the next time you're kidnapped and forced to fight against a man you have every intention of killing while being on the same team as another man you despise:

 

Don't use dull kitchen knives in a shootout.

 

99%, if not 99.9% of the time, you are bound to lose and die a slow, painful death. Whether that comes from a mass parade of bullets shooting through the air on all sides, or a zombie pulling your ass to the ground to eat you, is up to circumstance.

 

Either way, you're not as lucky as you hope you'll be.

 

Matter of fact, if Murphy was suspectable to die from a zombie bite or from being a cowardly idiot who'd run the second he got the chance, he'd probably be dead by now. Loss of humanity's most sacred package all because the group couldn't keep to their damn selves.

 

He'll give them credit. At least Garnett tried to decline fighting in a war that wasn't their own. That still didn't make up for the utter stupidity of thinking that they can just waltz right into Home Falls and ask for help on a mission.

 

Humanity's a bitch. Half the time, Murphy can't help but wonder why they are trying so hard to save it.

 

The knife, as Murphy predicted, was doing jack-shit. It barely even pierced the flesh of a Z that came up right behind Doc. It stuck just between the shoulder blade, metal embedded loosely in the flesh before clattering to the gravel on the ground. Murphy gritted his teeth, throwing the bloody knife in his hand to the side and gripping the zombie by the shoulders.

 

He pulled the Z back, prying its bony fingers off the older man as he threw the zombie to the ground. The zombie snarled and snapped at him, those varying shades of yellow and blood-stained red teeth clamping down together, as her white eyes trailed over him. There was something in her dead gaze, something that sent a pang of sympathy in his heart, feeling a sudden string of suffering clench in his chest when he put his attention into focusing on his bond.

 

It was harder, painful even, to try so hard to get into her head. The zombie's thoughts so astray that he could barely string a coherent sentence together. The best he could do was calm her down, send a wave of peace to the head that was filled with misery, watching as the zombie relaxed from her spot on the ground, dull eyes staring into his with a sudden curiosity.

 

Connected.

 

He didn't know if those were his thoughts or hers. The baseball bat crashing into the base of the zombie's skull, bashing her head in so suddenly that Murphy could barely get his feelings in line before the connection went abrupt.

 

He felt the pain exploded in the back of his head, as if he was the one to get hit instead. By all means, Murphy pretty much did. His hands flew to his head, clutching everywhere and anywhere that hurt, pain clouding his thoughts until he was sure his eyes were about to pop out of his skull and his brain was going to explode.

 

"You alright, Murphy?" Doc's worried voice filtered in and out, figure just as blurry. "What happened over there?"

 

He could feel Blake's stare on him, analyzing him like a textbook. Murphy was sure her killing the passive zombie on the ground, one that she sure as hell knew he was controlling, was payback for ignoring her "help" and her spur of questions to talk to Doc instead. She probably had a smirk on right now, if he could focus enough to see it.

 

He blinked rapidly in hopes to get his vision back, the white noise ringing in his ears finally clearing to the point that he could hear properly again.

 

"He's alright." Blake's face was right in front of his, and--Shit. When had he sat down on the ground?

 

He swore, pushing Blake onto her ass from where she was propped up in front of him. "I can speak for myself." He started; his tongue thick in his mouth as his words started to slur together. Holy mother of God, he didn't go that deep in the connection.

 

"You couldn't a second ago." She deadpanned, no real worry emitting from her voice or her face. A layered annoyance coupled with a searing rage that was lit behind her eyes-- a slight curiosity hidden beneath that, if Murphy's muddled mind could make anything of it.

 

Doc swung at a zombie that started through the gap the Zs had been pushing through in the fence. The hoard, luckily on this side of the camp, dying down for now, giving Doc a second to turn to Blake and him. "Does he have a concussion?"

 

"Don't know, Doc." Blake shrugged, pushing herself off the ground as her hands started for his head. Murphy pushed them away before they could get close. She scowled at him, glare piercing through his skin far worse than the knife he tried using.

 

"I'm trying to help you, asshole." She hissed.

 

"Don't need help, Sweetheart." Successfully pushing himself back onto his feet, he was slightly unsteady but otherwise starting to become clear-headed again. "Next time," His voice was stronger, nearly back to normal besides a temporary lisp he couldn't control. "Don't hit the ones upside the head that are just sitting there."

 

Her teeth clenched, raising an eyebrow as if she thought it was threatening. "Then don't play in their heads." She turned over her shoulder, calling over to Doc. "He's fine. Didn't hit his head on anything. He's just being dramatic."

 

Lies. That's all she's good at, isn't it?

 

Doc's brows scrunched, obviously not believing Blake's bullshit excuse. Thank God for common sense.

 

"Okay…" The skeptical undertone cut through the air enough that Murphy could feel Blake's anxiety rise. "Well, um, I don't know when a second wave is gonna hit, and these hammers aren't gonna last me for long. You two good enough to help out over here?"

 

His gaze was mainly on Murphy, the question directed towards him but, of course, inclusive to both of them. Not like the Risen member deserved it, but here he was in that repetitive loop again trying to reason with it. "Fine." He forced out. "I'm fine."

 

Head back to normal, although stinging with the lingering pain of getting a second-hand taste of a bat bashing against his skull, he was able to move jaggedly over towards Doc. Along the way he grabbed a pole-- a poor substitute for his sword/cane but a major upgrade from the useless kitchen knife.

 

As expected, the second wave did come, bullets from the guards nearby spraying across the field as Murphy, Blake, and Doc all dove out of the way.

 

"Sounds like someone got their stash back." Doc laughed, the older man luring a zombie to get his skull bashed in by Blake. "Weapon's stash, I mean." Doc cleared as if the other option sounded like bullets firing.

 

"About time." Murphy grumbled, keeping his connection clear from straying into a zombie's mind, forcing them back with the pole and into the open where the cracking of gunfire was bound to kill them.

 

A couple guards filed in towards them, fully loaded weapons trained on the fence as they started firing, clearing the patch of Zs that were trying to force their way through in a matter of seconds.

 

"Hey!" Murphy called once the gunfire ceased, slowly approaching the guards, hands half raised. "Mind giving us an upgrade? Shit weapons equal shit service." The guard in front of him-- Oh great. Guard 10 brought his whole cluster of guard siblings with him with this time.-- was still unimpressed, staring him up and down with tired eyes.

 

"Building to the right side. Two buildings past A1. " One of the guards, Murphy didn't care to give them a number, shouted. "Lay low, watch out for gunfire."

 

Murphy gave a mock salute, pulling Doc along with him as Blake trialed behind. He had half the mind to leave her, speed up with Doc by his side and lose her along the way, but he figured Doc wouldn’t be too happy with that plan. Even with his rising suspicion against the Risen member, it wouldn't be enough to ditch her in the shootout.

 

They started along the walls, steering clear of the bullets slicing through the air and the zombies pushing their way through the camp. It was a catastrophe of death. Decaying masses filling in the once protected camp of Home Falls, rushing around making it nearly impossible to get anywhere without attracting one to them.

 

Murphy caught sight of Warren and Garnett, the two back-to-back as they fought their way near a building back from the entrance. The lunatic Markson was separated from them, nearly on the other side of the hoard as he fired a spray of bullets. His wild eyes searching the camp-- for his kids or Reed, Murphy wasn't sure of.

 

 Either way, the crazy asshole missed a Z barreling its way towards him, getting pushed to the ground as his gun flew from his hands.

 

Murphy pretended not to see it, forcing Doc forward so they could get actual weapons to defend themselves. They couldn't get far, getting pushed back further and further towards the weak spot in the fence as the zombies started to fill up the negative space in the camp. The once cleared area of shattered glass and mismatched chairs toppled over from the hoard rushing through.

 

"We're not going to make it through." Blake so helpfully chimed in; bloody baseball bat raised near her head. "There's too many. We'll need to find another way."

 

For once, Murphy was inclined to agree. Begrudgingly, unwilling even, if he ever had to admit to it aloud.

 

"You got a plan for that? 'Cuz all I'm seeing here is a bunch of Zs blocking our way forward." Which was…also true. Doc wasn't too far off with that, stressing Blake's already seemingly shot nerves as she threw her head back in frustration with a growl.

 

"Not sure." She sighed, eyes darting around the area. "Can we climb onto the roof?"

 

"And what? Jump across it like some ninja?" Besides, Murphy wouldn't even trust himself climbing a ladder in this place. If the buildings looked like they were about to fall down under the force of a light breeze, he sure as hell wasn't gonna trust some rickety fire escape full of rust and lost bolts. Even then, access to the roof was cut off from the zombies hoarding in groups around the doors to the stairs.

 

"I don't know, Murphy!" She yelled, voice a tad bit too loud that had Doc shushing her so she wouldn't attract the attention of the brainless dead. "Give me a better option and we can work with that."

 

"What? Like a team?" He sneered, hoping it was the right amount to piss her off. If he could attract the zombies over here, he'd get her caught up in a group of them and get Doc to safety. An accidental death by Blake's own making.

 

It wasn't a full-proof plan, but it was one of Murphy's only shots so far, and he'd be damned if he didn't take it.

 

Her face was glowing with heat, so much so that Murphy was sure she was going to combust. Her hands curled around the bat, squinted black eyes drawing the crow's feet out from along her eyes. "Fuc-"

 

"Blake!" Doc cut her off before she could start shouting again, unknowingly ruining Murphy's plan at saving his older ass. Murphy grumbled, catching Doc's eye as he stared at the doors to the mutt mill. "I might have an idea." He started moving towards the doors of the gray walled building, careful in his steps to not draw attention from the wandering forms of zombies distracted by the gunfire around them.

 

A lost cause, honestly, by the growing expanse of the dead limping through the camp.

 

"Care to share with the class?" Maybe he was minorly annoyed at Doc for screwing up his plan, sarcasm dripping off his tone as he spoke.

 

Doc didn't answer, making his way to the doors of the mutt mill-- thick wood rotting along the handle that was nearly falling off the hinges. Most of the windows were boarded up, but the foul stench that emitted from the building was strong enough to reach the outside, wafting through the air and stinging Murphy's nose. Whines from the animals inside were muffled through the door, hissing and barking bound to attract a pack of zombies' attention soon.

 

If not now, by the way the zombies' heads twitched their way, eyes locking on them as the dead started to dart forward.

 

"Doc!" Blake's bat was raised, hands shaking the least bit as she yelled at the older man. The sprinting zombies were gathered in a heap, tripping over one another as they rushed towards them. "What's your plan?!"

 

Obviously one they weren't going to hear. Sidelining trying to keep his 'zombie messiah' powers out of the dead's head, Murphy tried to steer them away; praying to whatever arrogant deity that loved to watch him and his group suffer that the guards won't bombarded the zs with bullets.

 

So early on in his deterioration into The Zombie Controlling Murphy, the mass of Zs plowing through each other to get a free meal weren't easy to hold off. The minute he'd get one to stop or turn around, the bunch behind the Z would maul it into the ground, failing to stop the hoard from reaching them any slower.

 

"You better have a good plan, Doc?!"

 

"Help me open the doors." Doc wasn't unfazed to the mass of Zs, voice loud and shaking as he rushed to the handles. By some miracle, the doors were unlocked, creaking from the hinges as they pulled it open, releasing the animals that had been begging to be let out.

 

Like a sea, the creatures flooded out, a mixture of matted fur and pinned back ears darting through the crowd of zombies. Howls echoed through the air, timidly searching for an exit as they raced around.

 

The zombies suddenly bombarded by the mob of animals; most lost their attention to the moving figures beneath their rotting feet. Dead eyes set to attack, offering him, Doc, and Blake a chance to escape towards where the retrieved weapons were held.

 

---- line break----

 

Turns out, Doc's plan worked well in the beginning, and then went completely downhill from there. A good deal of zombies were distracted by the animals, and an even larger number were getting a shot to the brain. Problem was, the distraction meant that the Zs had an extra snack, which, who would have thought, meant they had to deal with zombie animals trying to bite their ankles out from beneath them.

 

A zombie chihuahua-- A Frickin' Zombie Chihuahua in all its glory of snarled teeth and insanely high-pitched yipping, managed to chase the three of them away from the building past A1 to whoever the hell knows where, dreadfully managing to spilt them up from each other. How they managed to lose its tracks, Murphy's not sure, and quite frankly, he doesn't care to know. As long as it's gone, that's all that matters.

 

Now, with the sun setting just below the tree line, and the last few rays of the afternoon sun peeking onto the camp, it was getting extremely hard to see where they were shooting and what they were shooting at. Reds and yellows morphed along the trees only to mock them. Something that even Murphy could admit was too beautiful to be casting down on them like all was fine and well.

 

But that was bullshit because Murphy could barely even see his group. If he lost them, if they died, he wouldn't know all because Markson trapped them into saving goddamn Henry Reed. With being well into an hour of fighting already, Murphy was confident The Man already had Reed loaded in his truck with a bag over his head and chains to the old man's frail arms.

 

They failed, obviously, and now the camp was suffering for their incompetence and ill-conceived bravado.

 

 The Man was a complete fool for bloodlust. If a plan were to kill every person that remained in this camp, The Man would have no problem whatsoever with it. If it meant kidnapping a child…his-- Murphy's child, to use her as a blood bag for humanity's sake, The Man would agree to the mission.

 

He was a person that Murphy wanted to end. A breed that should be killed in the womb. Murdered before it could repopulate the earth. The evil that stained the world oozed from The Man himself. A bullet to the brain, or even a simple injection, a bite of Murphy's could change that. To live as a Blend and became better or be killed as the scum that inhabited the earth were the only options for the lost hope out there.

 

Either, with Murphy backed up into a corner watching as The Man started to load his men up into the truck, were options that were running on repeat at the forefront of Murphy's mind.

 

End him or turn him-- how he'd love to do either, or both if he could. Son of a bitch deserved it for all he did in the Past Life and all he's doing now.

 

A shout of pain startled Murphy from his thoughts, eyes turning away from The Man covered by the load of zombies wandering through the camp and landing on the man crawling for cover right beside him.

 

And why wasn't Murphy surprised to see the bloody face of Markson. The Sergeant clawing his way behind the makeshift cover Murphy was ducked behind, looking like death rolled over even in the dimming light of the sky.

 

"You gotta…" Markson wheezed as Murphy shifted away, watching as the Sergeant covered the bullet wound just beside what looked to be his lungs. "-got a gun I could borrow?" The words tumbled out the Sergeant's mouth, the first few syllables barely coherent as they ran together.

 

"Nope." He popped the 'p', remaining completely unfazed to the man dying next to him. "Would've been helpful if you gave us one before." From his squatted position, Murphy managed to toe Markson's shoulder as the man laid slumped near him. "So this one's on you."

 

"Yeah, yeah." Markson coughed, hauling himself up against the crates, stifling a scream at the pain that spread through his body from setting himself vertically upwards. "Get that a lot."

 

"Do you?" He couldn't help the sarcasm that dripped from his lips, watching the man struggled to hold himself upright. "Never would've guessed."

 

To his credit, the Sergeant did huff something of a laugh back, eyes fogging as he stared out in front of him. "They got Reed." Markson bit down on the inside of his cheek, Murphy's eyes trailing to where the man was bleeding proficiently against his hands that were pointlessly trying to stop it. "Bastards just…just snatched him. Killed our men."

 

Oh for Heaven's sakes, spare him the pity party.

 

"Yeah." Murphy agreed, not even attempting to console the man beside him. "You guys did a pretty shit job at defending him. Basically a losing battle from the start, if you even tried to look that far ahead." It was the truth, at least, and if Markson couldn't bear to hear it, then he wasn't as great of a leader as he thought himself to be.

 

Markson's teeth grinded together, but he didn't argue back. Murphy had a sneaky suspicion it was the blood loss.

 

He had half a mind to leave the Sergeant there. Supposedly, this all happened in the Past Life. The Man taking Reed, probably one of the first names on that God-forsaken list. Markson had to have gotten shot last time. Someone must have found him, half dead on the ground, and patched him up before he could become one of the infected.

 

Unless releasing the animals had some part to play in Markson's fatal wound. How? Murphy wasn't sure, but then again he didn't have a damn clue how Warren almost shot Doc a week ago, so what's he to say. Maybe an animal distracted him, or distracted the lucky bastard that got to shoot him.

 

Maybe Markson never got shot in the Past Life.

 

That would be…great, actually. If Markson managed to bleed out here, that meant one less member of the Risen he'd have to deal with. One less problem in the future that he'd have to face. Markson gone meant, if the Risen formed again, they'd be down a Sergeant. They'd lose the unhinged grief-ridden father that tried to hide himself as an upstanding Sergeant.

 

What luck that would be, by Murphy's books. It was almost too good to be true.

 

"Hey." Markson's voice was carefully quiet now, by will as he stared out at the battle that was slowly starting to die down. He only continued to speak when he noticed Murphy's attention on him. "You got any weapons on ya? Somethin'…we gotta-- Help. We need help." Markson winced, the ability to speak clear sentences zapped from him as he held pressure down on the bullet wound.

 

Blood stained his hands, dripping down his tanned arms and catching in the wisps of dark hair. By most standards, Murphy doubted the man was going to make it. Not by how long they've been wasting time sitting here, and not by the lack of available 'help' around.

 

Murphy scanned the perimeter, searching for any dark figure amongst the dying light. Something human that was moving that suited Markson's pleads. There was no one, not a person but the ones fighting, that could medically care for the wounded Sergeant bleeding out on the ground. Markson seemed dead set on moving to help, but Murphy was sure the man's feet would give way under him long before he reached it.

 

Murphy's eyes set on The Man instead, watching as he held off the zombies that ran his way. The rest of his crew members were already loaded, the job of their kidnapping seemingly done, as The Man started to make his way back.

 

Now or never. Or, at least, a year from now until he managed to come face to face with The Man again. If they even managed to make it to Mercy Labs to begin with.

 

Without a gun, he couldn't just shoot The Man. The distance between them too far for him to snatch one of Markson's sharpened knives and chuck it at his bald head prohibited as well.

 

His gazed landed back on Markson, watching him struggle as he waited for Murphy to answer.

 

Maybe it didn't have to be him that risked his life to kill The Man.

 

With a goal in mind, Murphy moved back over to Markson, hauling up the Sergeant that started to slouch back down to the ground, ignoring his cries of protest that came with the blooming pain of being moved so suddenly. "I can walk myself. Just…get a weapon and protect me." Markson argued, using Murphy's shoulder for leverage to lift himself to his feet, but Murphy pushed him back down.

 

The Sergeant's eyes widened, confusion written across his face. "The hell are you doing?" His voice weak now as he tried to speak, tried to force himself back up but Murphy continued to hold him down.

 

"You don't have to be afraid." Fear no more, even as the man struggled beneath him. "The Risen won't be lacking without you in it." Murphy eyed him, one hand gripping the man's shoulder to keep him pressed against the ground as the other grabbed at the side of his face, readying himself to bite him. Please work. A silent mantra that filled his head.

 

"Risen-- what?" As Murphy teeth dug into the man's soft skin of his cheek, Markson cried out, in a rage, in pain, and scared, Murphy could feel as he pulled himself away. It was distant, worse than the fogged puzzle that he had to search through when he injected 10K with the Blend vaccine in Altura. It was like trying to make sense of paints splattered together. No real pattern, nothing really there unless you forced yourself to look hard enough.

 

But it was there. The feelings that prickled in the back of his mind, the sense of control over a Blend, thoughts and feelings combined was dim but there.

 

"The hell did you do?" It was almost shrieked out, one hand going from the wound on his chest to the bitemark on his cheek. "Goddamn creep. You bit me." There was a bit of strength in the adrenaline that flooded Markson's body, words slightly less slurred together than they were before.

 

Murphy didn't have time to entertain him, eyes falling away from the Sergeant and landing back onto The Man who was starting to retreat back to his truck.

 

"Kill him."

 

Markson stared at him like he'd lost his mind, voice in a rage. "Kill who?"

 

The words barely left his mouth before his body started to move against his own accord. The movements were rough, like a fight of control between them because of Murphy's lacking power.

 

But Markson was dying in his strength, and Murphy had knowledge on how to control his Blends.

 

Forcing the man to grab a knife out from his pocket at his side and sending him on course to The Man was a struggle, but he got it to work, watching as the mechanical movements of Markson moved him through the sea of zombies. The dead ignored him, a lucky side effect of being a Blend, but the people watching him did not.

 

The light was barely out anymore, but with Home Falls one good planning technique, they had electricity to spare for light as the fight continued into the night. That meant, as clear as it were day, that people could see their Sergeant trudge through the zombies without any repercussions.

 

"Dad?!" Someone, a girl-- Ava, Murphy realized, shouted. The fear in her voice, a quiver as she shrieked, enough to nearly snap Markson from Murphy's control.

 

Continue on.

 

Markson's head snapped back to The Man, but his eyes lingered on his daughter and son, the two watching from the roof of a building in horror.

 

It felt as if the war had suddenly stopped, the air tense as a seemingly normal man walked through a hoard of zombies. Gunfire ceased, nothing but the sounds of the dead and the cries of Markson's children, pleading him to stop, filled the air. It caught his group's and Blake's attention, the latter of them staring in terror and panic at the fresh bitemark that swelled from Markson's cheek.

 

The Sergeant was close, knife raised to The Man's back as he made his way to the safety of his truck. But, with the air so quiet so quick, The Man's attention was pulled to the cause.

 

A shot rang out as one bullet was fired from the bastard that kidnapped his daughter into the head of the unstable war Sergeant that killed his Blends.

 

----- line break ----

 

12 A.Z.

Blake's POV:

 

She closed the door behind her slowly, careful to not wake any more of her fellow Risen members. It was a long night already, between nightshifts and guarding rotations. Major Lacey just got back from a meeting-- secret as far as Blake was aware--maybe with the Leaders? Nothing was ever told to her in the Risen. She didn't hold a rank to her name, and most the time, she just assumed the Risen didn't have much trust in her.

 

Then again, lots of the Risen members liked Brett, and he was told as little as she was. He gained the appreciation of most of the commanders, a handful of sergeants, and a shit-ton of military men and woman that survived the apocalypse and Mr. Murphy's Blend rule.

 

Part of her felt like it mattered. She felt like she had something to prove to these people she was fighting alongside. A lot of them were heroes, in their own right. Others never served in the military were at least helpful in some way or another here. Scientists, engineers, teachers who worked to educate the young in the Risen base. And here Blake was sporting a reputation at a restaurant and half a semester in school learning how to be an accountant.

 

Best Blake served as in the Risen was as a cook, and even then they didn't have electricity or food to work with.

 

Luckily, by some grace of God, Sergeant Markson managed to find her a position in field work with Brett. She was poorly trained in any form of combat. Austin was never really a fighting kind of guy. He was soft, kind, and shy. He didn't do well with blood and held his heart out for anyone who needed it. Combat training was the exact opposite of what Austin would have been up for, and Blake realized with sinking dread, it's probably why he didn't make it too far into the apocalypse.

 

Brett didn't slack on teaching her, and today wasn't any different. They had a big mission coming up, consisting of the long since abandoned Altura and some notes from Sun Mei's lab she'd have to retrieve. They had a couple months by counting before they actually had to go on the field mission, but Brett wanted to make sure she was ready.

 

She figured she was failing, her lanky limbs and horrible coordination holding her back. Hell, she was a shit shot by the bare bones definition of it. Even a zombie would be disappointed when a bullet eventually managed to lodge into a tree near five feet from her target.

 

It was rough today. Between training and staying up to listen to Kendall and Janyce rant over Mr. Murphy's growing numbers. By the time she was able to slip back into her small bedroom down the corridor, it was far past the time she had hoped to get some shut eye. An exhaustion crept through her bones making it too hard to drag herself over to her small, dainty desk, but she finally managed to pull herself together enough to make it there.

 

With the candle lit on her desk, Blake rested her head on the wood, letting a long breath blow the dusk off the surface.

 

 Long, tiring day. So long.       

 

She was beat, eyes heavy as she felt herself sink farther into her chair. It was an uncomfortable position, slacken in the chair with her cheeks heated by the flame of the candle. The wax slowly dripped down in a long white line, and at some point or another, Blake lost track of how long she had been staring at it.

 

She couldn't help but remember Jen. Jenny's birthday, just two days before the apocalypse, before the zombies, before her death. The wax of the candles on her cake dripping down in colored strands as her little girl bounced in her chair. The gleam in her eyes, shining brighter than any star, as she stared between her and Austin. Toothy grin covered blue with the sugar-coated candies she had been snacking on, smiling at all the guest gathered to sing for her.

 

Her baby was dead-- has been dead, for twelve years now. She would have been a late teenager, about to be a young adult. So young, ripped from the life she could have had. Killed by those bastards-- turned into them.

 

The sob ripped through her throat before she could control it.

 

Jen was a zombie-- was still a zombie if someone hadn't killed her yet. Because Blake couldn't. She couldn't even give her own daughter mercy…just let her-- God, she just left her to suffer.

 

Blake prayed some nights that their positions would be switched. That her baby got to live, her little girl got to grow up into a fireball of a woman she knew she would be. Strong and loyal and caring. She should have survived.

 

But then Blake remembered what they were fighting day and night for-- who they were fighting against. She couldn't imagine her daughter trapped in a world that had to fight zombies, Blends, ravenous Talkers, and humans. She couldn't imagine her daughter strung up fighting on the front lines with all the others that would have matched her age.

 

She couldn't imagine her baby girl turned into a Blend-- forced by Mr. Murphy's hand to do things against her will.

 

The tears ran freely down her face now, burning as she let herself fall onto her floor. The ache in her chest felt unbearably heavy, crushing her heart and pounding in her head.

 

She missed Jenny. She missed Austin. She missed their simple life together back in Montana, raising their beautiful daughter who carried the brightest spirit Blake had ever seen.

 

Sometimes she wished she was with them again. That the world would end, her world would end, so that she could be with them. She wondered why she was the one to live instead. Why Jenny couldn't have been saved over her. Why Austin couldn't have come home fast enough. Maybe he would have been able to save their daughter-- maybe Jen would still be alive if Austin had protected her?

 

Sometimes she wanted to end it now. And then she remembered why she was here to begin with. Why, who, and what she was fighting for. What freedoms the world should have and what freedoms had been stripped away.

 

The bright eyes of her daughter would have been worth fighting for. Jen wouldn't have wanted her to give up. Austin wouldn't have given in. She could be strong like she knew they used to be. She could fight for a world she'd hope to raise her family in.

 

Blake wished she had the strength that her little family had possessed. Even Jen, just shy of six, was so strong where Blake couldn't be. A little girl who wore her heart on her sleeve and offered comforts when she knew someone was in pain.

 

'Mommy.' So quiet, so tiny. Just a little baby-- her little baby when the world decided to dim her fiery spirit and dull her bright eyes. 'Mommy? Are you okay?' The love that flooded her words was worth every bit of what Blake could remember. Every memory of her happy little girl in a world that didn't deserve her. A world that ripped her away.

 

The favorable, loving memories didn't stop the growing feeling of pain and grief that engulfed her chest. It didn't stop the bile that gnawed at her throat, climbing higher and higher until Blake retched her guts out into the trash can nearby. She heaved, face hanging over the acidic puke, hoping to keep down the rest of the limited food they were allowed to eat. Trying to steer her thoughts clear of every shortcoming, ever failure to her little family she couldn't protect.

 

God, she was too tired for this. The world felt too slow, like the skip button had been paused for time to pass by at a painfully labored speed. She was too sluggish to move, slumped beside her bed, when she heard a knock on her door and a call of her name. She didn't answer, curling into herself as she pressed her back to the cool wall behind her.

 

"McLanley. Report now."

 

God dammit, she couldn't deal with Sergeant Markson tonight. She couldn't deal with lectures about her training, or her bailing out on the continued conversation that she snuck away from. Hell, she couldn't deal with any more information about the upcoming mission right now.

 

She was just tired.

 

"Yeah." Her voice cracked, raw and sore from the lingering taste of acid that clogged her throat. "Here. I'm…I'm in here."

 

There was a long silence, and for a while, Blake thought Markson had decided to leave her alone.

 

"I'm coming in, McLanley." His gruff voice was hushed, and Blake couldn't be more thankful for the thin doors right there and then. "Make sure you're dressed."

 

Quickly, she pushed herself off the floor, hauling herself onto the bed in hopes that she didn't look like a complete mess. It was her piss poor luck that the foul stench of bile and the disaster that was Blake herself resided in the room when her Sergeant entered.

 

He stared at her for a long while, not saying a thing to the point that Blake started to feel self-conscious. His dark eyes trained on her, scanning her as if every little detail told him exactly what he needed to know. She cleared her throat, hoping to break him out of his trance as she raised an eyebrow at him. "You alright, Sergeant?"

 

He had been going through hell as of late. Blake's troubles paled in comparison when she found out his son had been killed on the battlefield a few days ago and his daughter captured by Mr. Murphy's Blends. She was one of them now, a part of Mr. Murphy's forces of unwilled servants, and one day, she knew, that Markson would have to fight against her on the battlefield. 

 

It was sick to think about, Blake could feel the rest of her weeks' worth of rations rising further in her throat. Her eyes darted away from Markson, falling into her lap as she played with her fingers. Her bitten nails were jagged as they ran along the palms of her skin.

 

A weight pressed down on the thin, stained mattress beside her. She couldn't ignore Markson's presence so close to her, so slowly, she lifted her head up to look him in the eyes. The grief there was overwhelming, the stone-cold resolve of a mask he tried to keep up not hindering it enough for Blake to see he was mourning.

 

"Are you alright?" He emphasized the 'you' back at her, thick eyebrow arched higher than hers. His voice didn't waver in the way she expected it to. It was completely emotionless, the question without tone or thoughtfulness. Robotic, it seemed, like he meant for it to sound more caring.

 

She could lie, but that never did her any good in the end. "No." Somehow, someway, it came out as a laugh. Huffed breaths airy from her lungs as she turned her eyes back to the wax dripping candle. "Probably not, but then again, I doubt anyone is."

 

She hated how the silence sat between them. How she could feel his eyes on her, waiting to say something and holding back, refusing to.

 

"Brett's…Brett's reeling 'cause Tyshawn's been sighted on the front lines of Mr. Murphy's Blend forces." Her thoughts came rushing out before she could think through what she was saying. "Kendall can't take watching the kids get dragged into Toivo every night. Every night they drag more kids in to turn 'em. Did you know that?"

 

"I did." His voice lacked the emotion she wished to hear. Something heart-broken in his tone, or something angry at the injustices of the world. Instead, she got nothing but a leveled tone of voice and an impassive face.

 

"I saw Madalyn the other day." She turned away from looking at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "Decked in war gear. You know how scared she was to be a Blend? Had nightmares for weeks just thinking about what that meant. What her daughter had to go through. Now, she has to live in that nightmare. And Jackelyn, she-"

 

"I wasn't asking about our Risen members." Markson cut her off, voice tight. "I asked if you were alright."  Again, with the emphasis on 'you' as if she wasn't telling him what was building up inside her. What listening to all these heartbreaks, to all this pain, trying to console and help, was doing to her mental state. How her daughter's death, her late husband she never got to say goodbye to, was eating away at her. Bit by bit until she was sure she couldn't take it anymore.

 

"And I told you, 'No'." She snapped, the grief that filled her chest twisting into a gruesome rage. "Besides, I remember asking YOU if you were alright." She shot back, glaring at the Sergeant that sat next to her.

 

The tick of his jaw, the tension on his face, said it all and Blake couldn't help but feel guilty that she snapped at him. "Sorry--I…sorry. You're just trying to help and I'm being an asshole."

 

He sighed, leaning against her wall as he listened to her apology, eyes closed as if the day had been too long for him as well. After a while, he decided to speak again, voice low, nearly mumbled out. "I'm not doin' too well, McLanley." His one eye snapped open, a threatening finger pointed just in front of her nose. "You repeat that to anyone and I'm commissioning you to janitor duty."

 

She couldn't help the smirk that slipped onto her face. Small and minorly there. "Yes sir. But it's plain and obvious to see, Sergeant." Her joke came out bland, but the twitch of Markson's lips meant it counted for something.

 

He set himself upright, and Blake followed his sights to the picture of her and Jen that sat on her desk. She looked away before she could get teary-eyed again, feeling as her stomach summersaulted at the sight, but Markson steeled himself to looking at it like by some strange magic it would come to life and revive her baby girl. "After Kara died…" He started, his wife's name thick on his tongue. "-Ava and David came to live with me. Swore on my life I'd protect them."

 

His posture went rigid, but his eyes remained glassy; the threatening tears held back. Blake, for a split second, couldn't help but realize that this was the most vulnerable she'd seen the stone-cold Sergeant. The man finally showing his heart, being more than the blackness he tried to make it seem. "Then Ava got sick. Just a little girl. Didn't know about the hydrocephalus in her brain 'til she got real bad. Thought…thought I'd lose her just like Kara. That I'd-- break my promise to her."

 

His shoulders shuddered with his breath, jaw tightened when he turned towards her. "She lived through the surgeries. Wasn't even a year later that the dead rose, and she was fighting for her life again. I got them through it. Got them through this Hell." His voice shook, strong for a moment like he tried to convince himself that what he had done was worth it. His protection meant something to his promise. "And then that son of a bitch out there took them away. Killed my son, kidnapped my daughter. Forced himself into her head to control her." The anger in his voice rose, loud through the thin walls of the Risen base.

 

Blake couldn't help but feel that the bottle of emotion Markson tried to keep hidden finally shattered, staring at her like he was asking for some sort of mercy in her words.

 

"You tried." She forced out, voice thick with emotion that she felt like she was going to bawl all over again. "You tried to protect them. Mr. Murphy, he…you couldn't protect them from something like that."

 

Something as vile as the Dictator. Something as strong and powerful-- supernatural in the apocalypse.

 

"I respect your attempts to console me, McLanley." His steeled act was back, but for the first time ever since she meant the man, he threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her exhausted form closer to his bulky chest. "Nothing's gonna let me feel at peace until I kill that bastard. Hell. Even then that won't be enough after what this world has thrown at us..." His sniffle was barely audible, but it was there. So loud in a room so quiet. "I'd burn the world if it meant I'd get 'em back."

 

She nodded against him, because in some respects, Blake had to agree. If she ever managed to kill the last zombie that walked on the face of the earth, it wouldn't be enough to ease the pain of the holes left by Austin and Jen. The world took so much from her-- from them, that nothing would be enough to give it back. Nothing enough to provide the comfort that they needed.

 

Time healed wounds, but now, it only seemed that time added more wounds than healing.

 

---- line break---

 

She stormed towards the Dictator, the fires billowing and crackling on the ground. The last of the zombies had been mercied, the gunfire died down once the bald man and his team of kidnappers drove away with Mr. Reed in the back of his truck.

 

They failed. Reed got kidnapped, the camp was shot to hell and back, and people died. Markson died.

 

The fury that filled her chest was flaming against her heart. Her teeth were clenched, pressed down against each other to the point that Blake could feeling them cracking under the pressure. Her skin burned like the fires that lit her insides were forcing its way to the top, flaring against her skin like magma rising from a volcano.

 

Operation Bitemark was regrouping back at A1. Guards, residents, and Markson's children all gathering to discuss their next plan of action now that their camp was bombarded with bullets and vulnerable to zombies. Discuss what they just saw, what had just happened, what had caused Markson to walk through a sea of zombies and not get attacked.

 

They could chalk it up to the bitemark. They could say it was the zombie bite that made him temporarily invincible against the dead. But they all knew that wasn't true. They all saw what happened when a person was bitten, and a mob of zombies were around.

 

They didn't know what gave Markson that 'strength' to withstand the zombies but not the bullet. But Blake knew. She knew exactly what the hell happened and exactly what that back-stabbing piece of shit did to him.

 

Murphy was separated from the group. Not by his own will this time, and that was all the more better to work in Blake's favor.

 

She was going to kill him.

 

She was going to kill that son of a bitch right where he stood, and she wasn't going to let anyone stop her.

 

He saw her coming, saw her stomping his way with a rage alit in her eyes and a pistol she had snagged from a dead body in her hand. She must have been a sight, she was sure, in a craze as she pointed the stolen weapon at him.

 

He didn't have time to run if he wanted to, feet planted in his spot as he stared at her. There wasn't an ounce of fear in his eyes, and that burned the holes in Blake's heart even further, threatening to burst as he mockingly surrendered towards her.

 

"What're you gonna do with that?" He chastised, voice as bored as his dull, untrustworthy eyes. "Shoot me?"

 

She answered by pulling the slide back, the click of the gun the only warning she planned on giving him.

 

The spark of alarm in his eyes was only mildly satisfying. She wanted to see him squirm. She wanted to see him cry out in pain, and hurt with his last, dying breaths for all the pain he caused. All the deaths he had been a part of.

 

"C'mon, Blake. Are we really doing this again?" His words were quick when she neared him, sensing the radiating anger that was nonplussed and uncontrolled. "Did you forget about the group? Huh? How do you plan on getting away with murdering the only saving grace for humanity's survival?"

 

'Saving grace'? The hell he was. His blood was the only cure the world was offered. Him though? He was just the host-- the body that contained the saving grace.

 

"I'll find a way." She growled or yelled. She couldn't tell anymore, and she didn't care. Murphy had killed Markson, he disobeyed orders, he made a Blend.

 

His laugh was a sneer, the curl of his paling lips pulling at his deteriorating skin. "By killing my group. Right?" It was a stab to her heart and he knew it. The possibility of even killing the people she was sent to protect, the people she was becoming more attached to despite orders, was enough to make her blood curdled and skin prickle with a fear. "You wanna protect them, but the second they stand in your way, you're all for placing a bullet in their skull, aren't you?" 

 

"Shut up!" That was a yell this time, ripping through her throat as she pushed the gun closer to him, watching the Dictator squirm.

 

"Because you know it's true, don't know?" He continued to pry, to force open her wounds and find her weak spot. Find where he could take advantage of her emotions and snatch the upper hand against her. "You know you'll do the same damn thing The Risen decided to do. You know you'll be just like them. Killing the people that you think are in your way."

 

"Oh, like you're any better." She was laughing, God dammit, she was laughing at him. The bitterness in each huff of breath she let exhale sounding even more vile when she was finally able to form words. "I bet all your Blends were given a say when you forced them to the front lines to fight against us."

 

He bristled, his own rage building. "They wouldn't have had to fight if it weren't for the unstable rebellion you claim is all good and goddamn holy."

 

"We only formed because you decided turning the world into your puppets was just what it needed!" The gun didn't waver, still aimed towards his chest even as she shouted out. "You know what? I bet Markson was all well and dandy with you forcing him to kill himself. Right?" The boiling ire that built up inside her wavered at the memories of the Sergeant. The good of his rare smile and the bad of his grief-ridden eyes that were easily mistaken as insane. She felt prickles pushing at the corner of her eyes, vision clouded as she refused to wipe the tears away. "I bet he wanted it to be some self-sacrifice for his kids-- not some blind willingness pushed onto him by you. By the fresh bitemark on his cheek."

 

 Blends. Murphy created a Blend today right in front of her. Went against the rules, went against the only freaking reason they had been sent back in time to stop.

 

She failed. She was already failing.

 

"You sure it was mine?" That cocky bravado was bound to be wiped off his face soon when she fired a bullet into his chest.

 

"Who's else would it be?" Every instinct told her to pull the trigger now, her finger twitchy against it. "You were told not to make any more Blends. You were sent a letter, for God's sake. And the…" Her voice cracked, tears bristling in her eyes as one slipped down her cheek. "And the first person you turn is Markson. And you killed him." Her voice broke against her accord, the well of emotions bursting through the dam.

 

"Which means there's no more Blends for you to get your panties in a bunch over. Doesn't it?" The harshness in his voice was unbearable, ringing in Blake's ears as she finally forced herself to push the barrel of the gun into his chest.

 

"That doesn’t matter! It doesn't matter, Murphy. You still killed him." Markson was dead. Markson's lifeless body was barely a few yards away from her, eyes void to the world around him. "He was alive seven years from now. He was alive in the Past Life, and-- this." With her free hand, she pointed to the ground. "This is permanent unless I go back in time. Do you know how much his death could have changed? Did you even think that far ahead?"

 

"I know it means one less Risen member. I was trying to take out two birds with one stone, but your praised Sergeant didn't get the job down quick enough." Dumbass. Murphy was the sole definition of stupidity and pridefulness. In the Past Life, Blake wanted to watch him suffer, but the only reason she had been sent back was because the Risen knew she wouldn't kill himself unless she had to.

 

She thought she had self-control, but this…this was pushing it.

 

"He had a family, Murphy!" She cried, as if she felt like reasoning with him was the right thing to do. Hoping to see some remorse in his eyes to his actions. Hoping that if that wasn't there, it would make killing him less like a failure in the Risen's eyes. "You had one of them as your Blends in the Past Life, and now-- now they're orphans."

 

Murphy scoffed, his hands reaching to push away her gun, but she pressed it further into his demolished chest hidden beneath the thin layer of clothing he had on. "Most children are orphans these days. They'll live with it."

 

Her lip curled, black eyes narrowing up at the few inches that separated them in height. "You wouldn't be saying that if it was your daughter."

 

"Don't you bring her into this." He snapped, dull eyes glaring down at her.

 

"Why? 'Cause it's different for you? You killed Markson, you turned him into your Blend, you disobeyed simple orders. By any and every mean I was told, I am obligated to shoot you and restart this nightmare over again." Her finger hovered over the trigger, watching as his eyes fell over her shoulder. "Do I make myself clear, Mr. Murphy?" She sneered, the name long since left her tongue in addressing the Dictator that stood before her.

 

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to, because Warren did for him.

 

"Blake!" Her name was shouted and ever nerve in her body tensed. She was caught. She was caught trying to shoot the package-- shoot the cure. Goddamn luck, Goddamn Murphy. This was her downfall because she couldn't just shoot him without talking things through. "Put that gun down, Blake."

 

There was an underlying threat in there, the group rushing up to her and Murphy. The tyrant in front of her with a rueful smirk lining his face. He was winning. He won. She's failing.

 

Her hands started to fall, worried that the second she let her guard down, she'd be shot. From Murphy or the group, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she was losing their trust and Murphy was gaining his back. He was taking her upper hand away from her.

 

Think, think. God, she needed to think this through. Why would she be aiming a gun at him? Why would she be threatening to shoot him?

 

"Give me it." Warren was right beside her, voice harsh in a way that Blake never wanted to be on the receiving end of. She handed it over, hesitantly, fear falling from her in waves as she stared up into the man's eyes that cast down on her in triumph. "What the hell were you thinking? He's our only chance at saving humanity."

 

Excuse. She needs an excuse.

 

The group was gathered around her. She couldn't see them; she couldn't face them.

 

Shit. She needed an excuse.

 

Hands shaking, she pointed an accusatory finger at Murphy. Away from his chest, her hand clearly trembling as she tried to stick her pointer finger out. The jab hovered there, her voice shaking as much as her body. "Don't you ever throw me to the zombies again."

 

Murphy wanted to kill her. He wanted to kill Markson. He had a plan and she needed to stop it. She needed…shit…she needed something to keep Operation Bitemark's suspicion off of her.

 

She watched the way Murphy's face morphed, incredulous as he gaped at her lies. "I have a daughter to get back to. I made a promise I would. I'm not going to break that."

 

Markson had children he was trying to save. She had Jen. They both made promises, and now she's the only one that can keep it.

 

Blake knew Murphy was going to argue against her, but she just needed out. Maybe it helped in her defense, to get away from the man that tried to kill her. She couldn't think that far ahead right now. She needed to get away. She needed to leave their prying gazes and watchful eyes that scrutinized her every movement.

 

Markson was dead and Murphy was winning the group's trust back.

 

Blake knew, deep in her gut, that she already failed.

 

Notes:

Well, guess the future is changed greatly from the Past Life now. No going back now unless Blake's willing to risk it.

Also, sorry about how long Markson and Blake's flashback 12 years into the Past Life's future had been. I swear it was supposed to be shorter, but I got carried away writing their relationship and Markson's character.

I was going to end this with the group gaining a four limbed member. What do you guys think? Should the group get a pet to travel with them on their adventures?

Chapter 21: Half Truths

Summary:

On edge because of Blake's unexpected outburst; will the group be able to trust her, or has she lost the one advantage she held above Murphy?

Notes:

Shorter chapter. Maybe considered a filler, but it's got some major development, so call it what you will.

Sooo I may have listened to "Case 63" recently, and let's just say I am back on my Time Travel hype again. If I go on long rants during any of the following chapters, blame that podcast story. (But seriously. If you have Spotify, I recommend checking it out. Such a good listen.)

Just to be clear, I don't condone Markson and his actions. But Blake knew him and developed a strong connection to him. So, a lot of her thought process hinges on Markson being "good" and not "crazy". Despite the latter also being true.

Blake's POV:

 

There is always a plot in a movie that is overdramatized. To thrill the audience-- the norm diverted into something so enthusing that even the things that are unrealistic could seem to be so plausible.

 

There's always a character that makes a big deal out of something so small. Something so trivial-- made into the whole thriving purpose the story continues. As ridiculous as it is, Blake used to watch those a lot. A filler to encompass the little free time she had to relax. It always brought that little semblance of enjoyment, way back before the zombies rose from the dead and time travel apparently became a thing that was real.

 

Now that…That sounds like some over-exaggerated plot of a movie.

 

But it wasn't. And she's here, facing it all with two hands gripping a steering-wheel that's spiraling way out of her control.

 

If she didn't make that one mistake-- God, she should have known. It was obvious, so obvious, and she let it slip through the cracks. Go unnoticed. Unseen to the blind eye she turned in a panicked rage. The group were so close, and she just thought she could get away with murdering the cure of humanity! The only cure in the world, and for what? Because he was about to pitch her to the zombies? 'Because she had a daughter to get back to.'?

 

Bullshit. Like hell would that excuse go over well.

 

'I had to, you see.'

 

'He was going to kill me. I swear.'

 

My life above yours, right?

 

Above humanity's, for that matter.

 

The group-- Warren-- would never fall for that. Her spur of the moment excuse was crumbing in her hands, piece by piece, until she was sure it was going to be nothing but dust by the next time she made a move at securing the group's safety. She could see it now, wary eyes watching her from the backseat of the car. The group pushing her to the side, keeping Murphy out of any reach of hers.

 

If she wanted to feel good about her lying, she'd like to think they were keeping Murphy away from her. How she made herself to be the victim against the Dictator-- fearful of that crooked smirk and deteriorating hands, peeling with skin, that threatened to shove her into a pack of zombies.

 

But she'd be delusional to even imagine that. The group knew who was being threatened in this situation-- who the threat was-- and it damn well wasn't Mr. Savior of Humanity. Not the one that had the gun aimed at his chest.

 

What would they do if they found out it happened more than once? What if Murphy decided now was his best chance to bring up all their talks? All their fights? How many times have they pointed a gun at one another? How many times has she threatened him?

 

He could use it all against her now. And she could see it. Right on the tip of his tongue, waiting to lunge out, to be that gust of wind that blew the dust of her plan away. Her mission destroyed by the one she was supposed to keep in line.

 

Would the group kick her to the curb if they knew even half of it? Would they leave her to her own devices on the side of the road for being a risk to what they thought was their only chance of survival-- of the world's survival? Would she lose them if Murphy decided he wanted to open that big mouth of his?

 

God-- what if he told them about her mission? The Risen, time travel, the future. They wouldn't believe it-- surely, but that didn't mean Murphy couldn't make her out to be some complete nut.

 

'She told me how she's here to make sure I don't rule the world in the future.'

 

Insane, that's what it sounded like.

 

'She thinks she's the only one that can protect you from ME.'

 

They barely knew each other-- they weren't supposed to know each other prior to Camp Blue Sky's 'first' encounter.

 

'She's probably been in Doc's stash if that's the way she's thinking. Hell-- she might just be a whack job to begin with.'

 

He'd make her out to be a loon. Too crazy to be escorting the only known cure for humanity half way across the country. For his safety, for theirs, for hers.

 

…What if he convinced them to kill her? A psycho out for revenge. Dropped off on the side of the road, only to come in later and tear it all down-- out for blood against the man she threatened with a gun.

 

What is she doing? That's never going to happen. Operation Bitemark would never do that to a person. They wouldn't-- not to her. They're not animals, they're not deranged-- they're humans. Regular people looking to survive another day.

 

God…she's starting to sound like those movie characters. Expect the worst, create the problem, and find it was all a big misconception in the end. It tended to work out. They would come to an agreement, an understanding, and figure out a solution from there.

 

It’s okay.

 

But the side eyes she was getting from beside her didn't make it feel that way.

 

They were always on her since Home Falls, pointed and piercing, burning holes into the back of her head when they were sure she wasn't looking. Always questioning, always cautious. She was supposed to be their friend--no, she wasn't. She was supposed to be their protector. Their protection. She wasn't supposed to get close, she wasn't allowed to form connections.

 

A background character amongst the main cast, and yet here she was, weaseling her way to the front of the stage.

 

The protector that became a friend was now a threat that became a possible enemy. How was she supposed to reconcile that? How was she supposed to gain her trust back-- the one thing that she held above Murphy's head. Without it, the Dictator had the past knowledge. He had the opportunity to form connections. He had the trust.

 

Murphy was indispensable now, even without all the trust and friendship. She was not. If it came down to her or Murphy's safety, the package was the number one priority. Everything above and below him was expendable if it meant Operation Bitemark's mission was complete and the cure was delivered to California.

 

Hammond, Garnett, Cassandra, Mack…their lives meant nothing in comparison to Murphy's life. They hadn't, in the Past Life. Just a memory that stuck with those that cared about them-- that loved them like family. But a family wasn't a reason to risk the survival of an entire race of human beings. It was a reason to save it, to continue forward, but not a reason to hold it back.

 

And she just used that as her only damn excuse. 'Get back to Jen.' 'I have to get back to Jenny.' Family prioritized, that's all she gave, and that's what she expected them to believe.

 

No wonder Operation Do-Over seemed to be falling apart by the second. She could barely keep her excuses reliable, much less a whole goddamn mission to save the world.

 

But as much as that mattered right now, as much as Blake could feel her heart pulsating in her chest, feel her wrist ache with each wild thud, she kept her composure steady. Each step she took forward into the shot-to-hell convenience store slow and calculated. Measured with survival, with the need to live, than the paranoia of what the future held. What this new future held. The unknown of it all eating away inside of her, but she managed to keep it invisible to the eye for as long as she could hold up her act.

 

"10K, Doc, check the aisles along the back." Garnett whispered, two fingers stuck together like he was about to salute, before motioning Doc and 10K into the direction he wanted them to break off from the group to first. "Addy, Mack, you take the right. Warren and I, we'll-"

 

"I'll take Blake." The edge to Warren's voice did not go unnoticed to the remaining members. As cold as the feeling of Blake's veins, keeping herself stock still as the woman she admired-- brave, fearless, kind in her own tactical way that brought that much needed leadership-- as that woman she spent months learning about, eyed her in a way she never wanted to be on the receiving end of. There was so much behind her eyes that Blake couldn't even begin to name them, and even that felt impossible with the hardened mask that obscured her thoughts and feelings.

 

As incomprehensible as it was, it was not unnoticeable; Garnett nodding his head as if the message was clearly received. "You'll take Blake. Cassandra, Murphy, you're with me to the left." He turned towards Warren, hand lightly pressed to the back of her shoulder, subtle, barely there, but enough to consider. Enough to be a calm, like Garnett was trying to stop a fight that was brewing under the surface.

 

For once, Murphy didn't have much to say back, shifting past her and Warren as Garnett took the front and Cassandra took the back. The Dictator sandwiched in the middle, a shine to his eyes giving way to the smirk that pulled the corner of his lips. He knew this would end badly for her. He was waiting for it.

 

He was her downfall.

 

She was the one to make the mistake.

 

But Warren was the one that would end it all.

 

It was always her, whether the woman knew it or not. She was the one that lead Operation Bitemark. She was the one to keep Murphy on track. She was the one to stop him, to stop their challenges, and Zona, and Black Rain.

 

She was the final Blend to sacrifice herself-- the tipping point for Alvin Bernard Murphy, strapped to a chair in a make-shift lab of a Risen base.

 

Warren could bring it all to an end as much as she could start a new chapter of the story. She's who Blake hinged on keeping on her side, the only person in the world that had more control over Murphy than Murphy did himself. Without her, her trust, her help; Operation Do-Over would be ground to dust before it had even begun.

 

If Blake couldn't come up with a full-proof excuse, if she couldn't convince Warren that her lies were true, there would be no slow unravel of her plan falling apart through her fingers. There would only be an end-- only bad that sprouted once Blake lost any and all control of her situation.

 

Warren didn't let her out of her sight as they checked the middle aisles. Blake was used to the eyes. She was used to them on her, watching her, waiting for her next move, but it made it feel all the more uneasy, step by step through the dimly lit convenience store. What shelves hadn't been toppled over stood just above her head, raided clean of supplies and food, nothing but old torn wrappers and dust left to lay waste to the eyes of the dying world. Blood splotched the tiles underneath their feet, long since the word 'clean' could be used. In place of the white was a deep black, the tints of glistening red seeped along the edges of the grout, where only dirt and grime took refuge from the wandering shoes that tracked mud along with it.

 

And Blake could hear her heart pounding the entire time. Clogged in her ears until the repetitive sound felt indistinguishable from the outside world. Constantly ringing to the point that Blake was questioning if she was the only one that could hear it, thudding over and over, knocking against her ribcage like it was about to beat out of her chest.

 

She had to take a minute. Just a minute to come up with a plan. It was clear that here, in these aisles at least, there was nothing that was coming after them. No one had made a sound, no zombie had groaned and shuffled into view. There was no gunshot, no yelling, no fights.

 

They had to be safe from the Zs, and that was more than enough of a reason for Blake at the moment, wanting nothing more than to just sit and take a breather. This here, this was important. One mess-up and it all would come crumbling down. The world's safety, the reason of her time-traveling, the group, her purpose.

 

If Warren couldn’t be convinced…she would have nothing left but the choice of going back in time, losing months (years, even) of progress, just to do it all over again.

 

She could not mess this up.

 

With her back pressed against the metal rungs of a shelf, she steadied herself to keep her legs from giving out beneath her. Focusing on her breathing, calming her nerves, even as Warren went a couple steps ahead of her to finish off their aisle. Blake couldn't bring herself to watch, hearing as a pair of footsteps approached, the tap of the soles of their shoes unbothered, even as the noise echoed through the building.

 

Or maybe there was no echo at all. Maybe she was making it up. She couldn't tell with the way her ears rung with the constant pounding and slow withdraw of each deliberate breath.

 

"All clear." It sounded like, but Blake wasn't exactly sure who the voice belonged to.

 

"All good here." Another responded, more feminine, closer-- Warren, being Blake's first guess. "You check…"

 

The rest left unheard, because her goddamn ears weren't working. She could feel the uprising of a panic attack holding it's spindly claws on her chest. Like a beast waiting to take it's prey's life, enjoying it's time toying with her. Playing with her emotions, her fears, until the whole world was blocked out and Blake was left in her state of hysteria.

 

For the love of God, she had to figure this out. But how? Freaking how was she supposed to do this? What did she have left to convince Warren, convince the group, of?

 

How could she prove to them she wasn't another nutcase that managed to survive the zombie apocalypse?

 

The tap on her shoulder had wild eyes pinned on Warren, Blake rearing back with how close the woman had gotten. Hadn't she been down the aisle? When had she moved closer?

 

"You with me?" Goddammit, she lost it for a second, didn't she? That of the world gone the first second, overbearing and there, yet so far out of her reach that she wasn't sure she was exactly in it, to being obnoxiously back the next. All caught up, the pace of the world back in its right speed of time, her panic strongly pressing back on her chest, but enough that she wasn't swept away from the world with it.

 

"Yeah," She breathed, regaining her bearings. By some great miracle, she hadn't found herself worrying on the floor, despite the shake in her legs threatening to give way if she neglected the thought of standing for too long. Warren was the only one here-- Blake wasn't sure if that was in her luck or not-- a few steps back in the event that giving her personal space would hopefully help the situation.

 

Less likely, Blake was sure, since she'd find herself spiraling back into it if she couldn't get her lies straight.

 

"Yeah," Blake repeated again, keeping her back to the shelves as a support. "Shit, sorry. I must've…" What? Panicked? Worried about what you might do to me? How you would affect my mission. "Just thinking about," She waved her hands in some mixed gestures that meant absolutely nothing. "-Home Falls."

 

Great way to abruptly start the conversation she had been dreading. Had she wanted a second longer, the chance was ripped away from her now, attention shifted to the main reason she had been panicking in the first place.

 

Warren hummed, far from sweet in sound. It was low, dangerous almost, if it was taken the wrong way. But her movements were meticulous, each step caging Blake with unease. "Me too."

 

Blake went to open her mouth, but no words came barreling out this time. Warren didn't seem to be impatient with it, the raise of her eyebrow waiting, daring almost, for Blake to speak her mind.

 

"About what?" She managed to squeak out, again, playing the innocent, clueless survivor despite knowing full well it wouldn't work in this situation. If anything, playing it like this was a risk, a sign of her lies unraveling off her tongue, the longer she acted this part.

 

And it was quite obvious that Warren would not be fooled by it any longer-- or at least, how she was putting on her act in this moment. But even that felt like a lie to herself, thinking she could manage to keep Warren on her side enough to play the character of Blake McLanley-- regular survivor caught up in a dangerous mission with Operation Bitemark, and Operation Bitemark alone.

 

Warren didn't directly speak her thoughts, not now, and that was the most unsettling thing to Blake. Watching Warren move closer, watching her contemplate her, assess with thoughts that were left unheard.

 

She wanted to know how much convincing Warren would take. She wanted to know how badly she screwed up. She needed to know this stuff.

 

"Why did you try and shoot him?" But Warren was the one that got to know. She was the one that got the answers first, and that's as much as Blake was allowed to play off of.

 

She had to be smart about this. The wrong lie and she'd find herself spiraling into a trap she was sure she couldn't get out of.

 

"Was what I said really that bad?" It wasn't exactly humor, not even the airy laugh that escaped her lips was enough to warrant that. As heavy with fear and worry as Blake was sure she looked. Slouched into herself, held up by shaky legs and the support of the metal shelves, looking down on the woman whose hands held her fate.

 

She swore Warren considered her for a moment, but she wasn't too sure, quite aware that her eyes were bound to deceive her if she tried to look too hard for something that wasn't there. "Not bad. Just not entirely believable." Inconsistencies, flaws. Something she failed to recognize when she first came up with the excuse.

 

How could Murphy pitch her to the zombies when she had barely been near him during the end of the fight? The only real time he'd be able to push her into the Zs would have been when she was with Doc, and with a witness, that story had been easily debunked.

 

"You want to tell me why?" Warren asked, head tilted, refusing anything but an actual response. One that she could believe, not an excuse bullshitted to her on a whim.

 

Blake hesitated, aware shifting now meant she'd fall flat on her ass trying, but she did her best. Hands gripping the dents in the metal to better haul herself into a more straight position. "Why I lied, or why I tried to kill him?" She could have said 'shoot'. She could have made herself more of the victim, less of a threat, but her mouth didn't work as fast as her mind, and she was failing to piece a full story together as it is.

 

"Both."

 

"Is there a particular one you want to hear first, or…?"

 

If she ever saw someone ride on Warren's nerves before, she would have told them to shut up and back away. Unfortunately, she only had one of those necessary actions, and even that was hard when she was actively being questioned.

 

"Why did you lie?" Warren directed, which, yes. This could be a lot simpler. Still spur of the moment, but having free control meant she didn't know where Warren's thought process was. At least having her talk meant she could figure out something in return.

 

"I was scared." She was terrified and pissed, and those two never played well with one another.

 

"Of who?" If she didn't know any better, she'd say there was genuine concern in Warren's eyes. Worried even, but Blake feared she might just be fooling herself now. "Murphy?"

 

Of you. Of the group. Of my failures.

 

"Yes."

 

The silence that took up the space should have allowed her more time to think of an excuse, but every thought that raced through her mind felt loose like a sheet of paper saturated in water. Slipping away with any words she could form.

 

"I was scared…of him." Slow, each word pressing heavily on her tongue. "And I didn't know what else to do."

 

"But shoot him?" When it was said like that, it didn't make the situation look good at all. Like scraps of a torn page of paper trying to be pieced together. No real indication of where anything went, but still desperately being placed over one another in hopes that it would form into something that looked like the original. That looked real and good. But then again, nothing here sounded good.

 

"I wasn't going to shoot him." That's where she was going to lose Warren. Warren knew better, even with the way her face contorted, she knew that was a blatant lie, but Blake had to stick with it. "I know how much he means to all…this." One hand free enough to gesture, still no rhyme or reason, but put in a way that she felt conveyed her point. She was well aware it wouldn't, but it helped her at least. A tether of movement to keep her slipping into her fear.

 

"So what were you doing with the gun aimed at his chest?"

 

She hoped her gulp of breath wasn't noticeable, taking her chance to at least think this one through, before she dived head first with answers she could not prove.

 

"Threaten him." Close enough. And if Murphy decided to tell them about all those nights she aimed a gun but never pulled the trigger, this could line up.

 

"Threaten him?" It somehow sounded worse coming out of Warren's mouth, but Blake made a point to stick to it.

 

"Yes."

 

She wasn't sure if she hated how slow the conversation was going, or if the pace only settled with the unease that gnawed away at her mind.

 

"Because you knew him Pre-Z." And that…that wasn't a question. Not by any standards that Blake had heard one.

 

"What?" Now she was lost. This was Warren's thought process? She never questioned a person's backstory prior to the apocalypse. If you were good, wanted to do good, wanted to be good, Warren was there to help. The past didn't reflect that sort of future-- like a blue sky cleared from the dark clouds that used to threaten above. The slate wiped clean in a place where choice, freedom, and safety meant you could be someone that you needed to be. The good the world lacked.

 

But being the one on the receiving end of this question, as if her life Pre-Z mattered in the apocalypse so much so that Warren  made a point to drudge it up, meant a world of fear was hurdling Blake's way.

 

"No, no, no. I didn't…" She could…Warren knew she had some sort of connection to Murphy prior, somehow. She had to have seen then. Maybe her talking with Murphy when they were loading the truck; the first time Murphy entered the camp, and like a dumbass, she had walked up to him to talk.

 

If Warren saw that she had to play this very carefully.

 

"I didn't really know him…Pre-Z." But she knew him, in some way. 'How' wasn't exactly her question, despite it being the thing she probably should focus on answering. What mattered was an answer, and if that answer was broad, it would have to do until she could come up with a good cover with Murphy. For now, she just had to convince Warren it was true. "We met, sorta stranger-acquaintance-wise, but that's it. I recognized him when he entered the camp, so I took a chance to talk."

 

Warren didn't say anything about a gun, so the possibility that she didn't actually see her threaten Murphy, or the Dictator plead her to shoot him, meant 'talking' could've been the right answer.

 

"I don't understand." She was walking dangerous territory here, but the act she was keeping up meant she couldn't understand a lot of things, and this might as well be one of them. Even if she really didn't understand why the conversation took a 180 like this. "What does Murphy and me meeting Pre-Z have to do with this?"

 

She wanted-- needed Warren's answer on this. Something to help her drag herself out of this hole she managed to trap herself in.

 

Watching Warren shift nearly gave Blake a start, suppressing the urge to not jump because that would be insanely stupid. A weakness to show just how much on edge she actually was.

 

"I know you're keeping things from me, Blake." Shit, shit, shit. "You've been attached to his side ever since we left Blue Sky-- you both keep by each other's side. I want to know why."

 

"I don't…" How the hell was she supposed to answer this?

 

"Are you a threat to him."

 

"No, no. I'm not-"

 

"Is he a threat to you?"

 

She didn't give an immediate answer back, the tension that was pulling between them so tight that Blake worried moving would upset it.

 

Yes, he is very much a threat, but what evidence could she prove that? What lies could see come up with that wouldn't show their true nature with a little bit of digging?

 

"He's…a threat," She needs lies, something! "-of sorts."

 

Warren was waiting, really waiting this time, for an answer. Maybe she did actually want to believe Blake. Maybe the friendships she was told not to form were working in her favor, not entirely lost and useless. Not a failure in the eyes of the Risen, not a disobedience to their command.

 

All she did was lie, all she has done, to get the group to believe her. But she came this far, and she's run out of excuses to fill the gaps of her mistakes. She's stuck with nothing but the truth, nothing to give but that, and it was a scary thing what she could do with it. A wielded weapon of words that could either save Operation Do-Over or ruin it completely.

 

"I…lied because I was scared of him." Why was she scared? Honestly, why was she? "I was scared of what he might do."

 

She was scared of the world he conquered. The lives lost, tortured by an unfamiliar presence in their mind, forcing them to do and say things that weren't their own thoughts.

 

She was scared of his Blends.

 

"Do how?" The truth didn't feel any easier to tell than the lies. Maybe liberating, but nothing that came naturally off her tongue. Not without her shaping and molding the truth of a story she was not allowed to tell.

 

"He did something to Markson." She hated the way her voice broke at his name, but she pushed forward, ignoring the raging anger that threatened to bubble to the top just thinking about his death. His orphaned children and the life that Murphy made him throw out the window. "I know he did."

 

She felt like she was losing Warren again, but by some grace of God, her interest didn't slip. And yet, it didn't became any more trusting of her words. The shake of Warren's head enough to prove just that. "Why?"

 

Careful how she answers this, she had to be, if she wanted this to end the right way. "We listened to the same guy, right? He…he wouldn't've just abandoned his children like that. You heard him scream how much he cared about them. Why would he even think about going after some guy that was walking away?"

 

He loved them too much. Even with the mission planned-- already set in stone, his children came first. And that was the real tragedy of it all, wasn't it? He couldn't intervene in the Past Life fast enough to save his children lives-- to save them from Murphy. And now, there back at Home Falls, Murphy was the reason Markson lost his life and his children lost a father. Lost the lives they had grown so used to in the apocalypse all because of a mission and Murphy's frickin' bitemark.

 

"Blake…" It didn't sound gentle or patronizing. Just her name, stated, said aloud to draw her attention and anything but that. "He was bit. He wouldn't have lived anyway."

 

"Bullshit." Don't cry. God, don't cry. She was on the breaking end, swelling with too many emotions she was trying to keep a handle over, that now it all just felt unbearable to keep inside. "That's bullshit, Warren, and you know it. We both know what a zombie bite looks like, and that wasn't it." She swallowed, hands curling along the metal to get a better hold of herself. "And a zombie won't ignore you once you've been bitten. They all did. Let him walk right…right to him."

 

Him. That son of a bitch that shot Markson. The man without a name, tucked all smug in his cleaned black suit and brown sandaled feet.

 

Warren didn't rear back. She didn't unfold with emotion and understanding at the revelation, unhidden truth that maybe not everything was as it seemed back on that battlefield. The thing was, there had been questions like that going around. Watching Markson; the guards on the roof holding his children back, those on the ground fighting for their lives-- they all saw.

 

Theories were being thrown around, hoping that one would stick. A man with immunity, some had thought. A fluke. The zombies were distracted by other things. By animals and gunshots. They didn't have time to mob the man that pushed past them. They didn't smell, didn't see, didn't feel that their next meal had stumbled just beneath their noses.

 

The zombie bite on his cheek was his death penalty, and by some divine intervention from the universe, his end was set to be a bullet to his skull. Nothing more, nothing less. A dying hero who sacrificed the remaining minutes of his life for the wellbeing of a senile old man.

 

Not a Sergeant, not a father that was forced to commit suicide by a Dictator's presence in his head. Only seen as a chess piece that could be used to Murphy's advantage.

 

"And you think Murphy was the reason that he didn't get surrounded when he walked into them?" Even that sounded incredulous-- unbelieving in the truth as if Blake was the boy who cried wolf. How fitting that was.

 

"Yes!" And maybe she did cry. Not a wail, no tear ever fell, but a plead that tore through her throat in hopes that Warren would listen. "We're transporting him to California because he has the cure in his blood. Who's to say some…effects wouldn't transfer from being bitten by him?"

 

"Who's to say that it will?"

 

She knew what Warren was doing, trying to understand, to push. Warren didn't settle for a half-baked story, or even one story at all. She wouldn't allow herself to form a plan around nothing and risk the wellbeing of those she cared for-- the people she protected. If an answer didn't make sense, if it didn't line up with what she believed to be true, she needed some other convincing piece of evidence to change her mind. It was tactical. It was the reason Warren survived as long as she did, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.

 

"Who's to--!" She needs to get control over herself. Aggravation or not, she can't let it get to her when she's in a situation like this. "Okay, so a zombie. Right? They bite you, you get the disease. You're infected. Why can't Murphy do the same?"

The cure to humanity was just as much of a threat as the thing that threatened to run the human populous into the ground.

 

It was tiring, the nod of Warren's head, knowing that she was listening, but unaware if she actually heard what Blake was trying to convey. 

 

"Alright." Warren wasn't conceding. She wasn't understanding, because her voice didn't sound convinced in the slightest. She was playing along, is all. Maybe she was trying to understand, God Blake hoped she was, but overall, this was her only listening and filing away Blake's excuses. Coming to her own conclusion rather than the one Blake was lying in front of her. "But even if Murphy bit him, Blake, that doesn't mean he's a threat to shoot. Or threaten."

 

"Why not?!" The words slipped from her mouth before she knew what she was saying, her thought process lacking, her mind reeling. Why couldn't that make Murphy a threat? Why was Warren not understanding when it was so blatantly clear how dangerous Murphy was?!

 

The look Warren gave her was enough to get Blake to shut it. Clamping her mouth closed, teeth sinking into her tongue in hopes that it would keep her quiet-- Warren's gaze alone, as pointed and sharp as it was-- enough to do just that.

 

"Because that's immunity, Blake." The use of her name over and over the only grounding technique Warren was giving her at the moment. "That means the cure is working if the zombies refuse to go after anyone that has it in their blood. That's a good thing." The last sentence punctuated, as if every word had to be clear for Blake to understand.

 

And God knows she needed it. Of course that's all Warren saw. She didn't see a Blend. She didn't see someone's life in the hands of another. She saw a cure. She saw hope. Blake was giving her all the more reasons to trust Murphy, every excuse, every truth, only giving the Dictator more power.

 

"No, it's-" She wanted to break down, she wanted this to stop. For it to all be over because nothing she could say will play in her favor now. "It's not a 'good thing'. If it was a 'good thing', Markson would still be alive. I told you he wouldn't have tried to kill someone if it meant he couldn’t be with his children."

 

Outside influence. That's what it was. If Markson's children were safe, if he knew that the danger had passed, even if the mission wasn't successful, he wouldn't keep pushing. He always wanted to be with them. He wouldn't risk his life for nothing. He wouldn't risk them or himself for somebody else.

 

Markson might have been crazy, Blake couldn't deny that. He may have been arrogant, and selfish, and wrong in so many ways, but the one thing he had always fought for was his children. If Reed was already captured, if the man was leaving right then, at that moment, Markson would have never been the one to make the sacrifice play. That wasn't coded in his blood-- never a thought that would cross his mind. He would have met up with his team, gathered his children, and looked for a new strategy.

 

She knew who Markson was, and what he did on the battlefield in Home Falls, would have never happened on his own accord. With his own thoughts.

 

"But you didn't know him." It felt like a punch to her gut to be told that so pointedly that she didn't know the person she fought nearly two years in the rebellion with. "You never even spoke to him, Blake."

 

For a moment, Blake hated Time-Travel for everything that it was. Trying and tempting to the nature of reality, pushing her past her limits of what lies she could form and what truths she had to cover up.

 

"Right…" She composed herself, succumbing to the falsity of the life she was supposed to have lived in this timeline. "I didn't know him. At all. But I did hear him. I…" Lie. That's what this life is anyhow. One big lie. "-didn't trust him, to begin with. Guys like him, you never know what they got up their sleeve. So I…watched him. Closely. Maybe picked up on things you guys didn't-- I don't know." She's rambling, she knows, but it's hard to developed a strong lie with little knowledge on how well someone else was watching her. "But I was privy to see what he was like. Behind the mask he put on with us. I saw him talk to his children, and we all heard him yell at that…man when he brought them up. He cared, Warren. I know that much."

 

"And I know what Murphy is like too. If he really does have these 'abilities'." For lack of a better word, powers. "If the cure does give him that-- what makes him any less of a threat? If a zombie bite can drive you mad-- turn you into something gruesome and…turn you into this flesh-eating beast-- Why can't Murphy's bite do something similar. Make you into someone less of yourself?"

 

She felt drained, everything that was true and everything that's a lie falling off her tongue into one big jumbled story. Molded together in a mess as the only excuse she could truly think of working. 

 

Blake just hoped it would be enough for Warren to believe.

 

The length of silence that drew between them again was becoming unbearable. The clicks of doors opening by the group who were scrounging for food and supplies the only noise filling the stiffness that encompassed the air.

 

"Please." She wasn't above begging, and right now, that's her last stich effort to save this mission. "Please, Warren. I know what this looks like, but I need you to trust me." It was a bold offer to make, to plead with every ounce of her being to the woman that held Operation Do-Over's, Blake's own fate, in her hands.

 

Her eyes had never been so untrusting ever since Blake had finally got to know her. Never so closed off around her. Cagey, reacting on what she knows and what she is being told, wary with each glance sent her way. It made Blake's skin crawl with anxiety, being on high alert near the woman she put so much of her trust into these past few years.

 

But where Blake had been so trusting of Warren, she had never reciprocated that back to the woman. Every word off her tongue could be seen as a lie, for all Warren knew. It was what she had to do. In order to protect her mission, she was told to give only bits of the truth, and nothing more than that.

 

Which is why she had been told to never form close connections. Too risky that one slip-up meant a spiral of consequences she was unprepared for. Too unstable in the truth that the reveal of one lie could set off a chain reaction leading to bit by bit-- piece by piece-- for her whole mission to be exposed.

 

Warren sighed, shoulders slumping from the tension that held them straight and high. Lacking that effort to keep herself rigid and stiff-- revealing her vulnerability to what Blake unmistakably titled herself as 'the threat'. "I don't have much trust left, Blake."

 

She was wasting it, exhausting the little trust she's ever formed.

 

"Don't give me a reason to lose it."

 

But without following the Risen's orders, at least she has a little left to spare.

Notes:

It sucks that Z-Nation was taken off of Netflix. I got lucky, having three seasons on DVD already, but it'll be a lot harder to analyze each scene frame for frame. I'll try the best I can though!!

Chapter 22: Home Sweet Zombie Remake (Part One)

Summary:

Flames choke and billow, clouding the group's vision as they head straight towards the Z-Nado. With Blake losing trust, and Murphy gaining his back, Operation Bitemark becomes wary of decisions made.

Notes:

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

As a gift, I bring you... trauma!

(Dedicated towards doctor_bog)

Blake's POV

 

They don't let her near Murphy, that's a given. She saw it coming from a mile away, and then every mile after that. From the car to the truck bed, hours as they trekked forward. No Murphy-- no way to get near him, not so much as bump his shoulder without eyes pinned on her.

 

Avoid him like the plague he was. At least that much matched the bastard.

 

The drive was tedious, from then on. The air thick, despite the chatter that filled it. Floating, really, like a rock abruptly thrown through a winding river. Smashing into larger, heavier stones and decaying logs. Banter that adorned the air like pebbles, eroded away as silence washed over them once more.

 

There was always one-- two people that sat watch between her and Murphy. Crossed legs taking up as much space as they could without negating too much room in their only mode of transportation. Arms leaned over the seats, no longer wrapped close to their bodies, a newly formed shield for the Savior of Humanity.

 

Trust was broken, abandoned in tatters by the side of the road.

 

No, not there. The trust of the group she once had in some precious hold, was shown to be such a precarious, little thing. Lying on the ground of some shitty excuse of a military base with a bullet lodged deep into flesh, caught in bone, as it slowly bled out.

 

Goddamn Murphy and his bullshit. Killing and lying, and messing up the unstable balance of what time travel entailed. Bending the rules to what he saw fit, stuck with the same logic of a Blend World and the price of freedom with it.

 

Goddamn her for letting him get away with it.

 

Jackson's whole reason for sending her was sounding less and less likely the further she dove into this mess of an operation.

 

'You are the only one who can keep him in line out of all the people in the Risen'.

 

Oh sure. Like Brett or Martin, or any other one of the loyal resistance members of the Risen couldn't have done the job insurmountably better than her. Hell, Jackson could have done it himself, and the success rate for this mission would have been higher.

 

What was it he said? God it was so long ago, but she had been so proud, maybe just a little. Pissed and angry and mournful of the injustice from the very people she had so much faith in. But proud. Because she wasn't as lenient as the rest or some other alluring shit he spewed meant to cater to her ego.

 

And look how far that got her. A big red X next to every box, one fail after another down the long list of supposed accomplishments presented in front of her.

 

The reticence finally broke not too long after the towering sign, its faded greens and blues bleeding into the white, welcomed them to the once lively state of Illinois. Kicked up dirt and splatters of blood a mere decoration to a bitter greeting, sharp sighted bullet holes a marker to some lucky groups that made it in, and hopefully, came out on the other side alive.

 

Seated in the bed of the truck, the lucky volunteers of Cassandra, 10K and Mack crowded the space beside her. A raised sniper to the fleeting forms of rotting flesh, and a pistol tucked into the other man's side, concentrated gaze pointed just past her, but not unaware of her. Murphy, then, was placed as far away from her as they could get him, crowded in the stuffy backseat of the truck. Likely pressed between Doc and Addy, reveling in his newfound upper hand against her.

 

And oh how he's going to use it. She knows for a fact he's going to take advantage of it, digging a grave just for her so that he can prematurely bury her. Gone and forever forgotten, without the trust she worked so damn hard to build up.

 

Three years, and in three minutes, she lost it all.

 

She had been privy, these past few days, to Warren's side-eyes from the review mirror. The want to trust, but the need to not be so naïve. Maybe she hadn't wasted it all away, if Warren was willing to give her a chance.

 

So be it if it's guarded, it's still a chance. And Blake's too desperate to deny it.

 

The odd group of them in the backseat didn't amount to much conversation. She had tried, once or twice, as they drove through Carterville. Cassandra and Mack weren't too open to talking without Addy as the conversation starter between them. And it's not like Cassandra had easily warmed up to her before her whole mental breakdown towards the last chance of human survival.

 

She's been trying to learn their tells. How they act, their levels of trust and suspicion. How she could work around their barriers to get them on her side, and not on Murphy's. Journaling those thoughts is all well and fine. It probably makes her look like a lunatic with a pen, jotting down some mysterious entries that has the group giving her odd looks, but hey. Her image is already shattered.

 

Dammit. Not the best way to look at it. What was she trying to get at here? It's like she's delicately teetering on a line between gaining back their trust, or operating on the sidelines without it, and neither is working in her favor. She can't seem to get it back when she needs it, which is now, at all times, as long as Murphy isn't the one to have it. But she won't be able to protect them when she's deigned the title of the irrational maniac.

 

Figures it was the dictator that fed that to them. And she played into it…of course.

 

His woes and complaints unraveled her lies, until it was a conglomerated mess of deceit and honesty in an vain attempt to win someone back on her side. It made her feel dirty, realizing just how much she had made herself a character tangled in some tragic plot. Some sorry excuse of a documentary with half-assed research saying it was based on a true story.

 

Her mind was a mess of all the lies she had to keep up with.

 

Jenny and Austin died in November of 2016, sometime between the 9th and the 12th.

Austin died in November of 2016, sometime between the 9th and the 12th. Jenny and her survived and made their way to Camp Blue Sky.

 

She first met Roberta Warren in the midst of a rebellion, with a gun to her head and Sun Mei's cure in her bag.

She first met Roberta Warren at the gates of Camp Blue Sky, with a gun to a zombie's head and Jenny's hand wrangled in hers.

 

She had first come face to face with the Dictator of the Blends as he was tied to a chair, watching as he agonized over the deaths of Operation Bitemark.

She had first met the Savior of Humanity when Lieutenant Hammond convinced the Blue Sky survivors for supplies, talking to the Cure without any prior relations.

 

Lie after lie after lie. They weren't going to end anytime soon-- they couldn't, but by God she wasn't sure she had the mental fortitude to keep it up.

 

They should have picked someone else. She wasn't entirely sure, then, what the reasons were that she was chosen. It seemed Jackson had his own lies to spin to her, some game to play and move her like a chess piece to capture the queen. What his objective was, when he should have known she was the foremost person to screw it all up, hung in the balance of uncertainty.

 

Maybe he really is just stupid. Some impulsive decision where he thought he saw something, and was too desperate to wait any longer.

 

But Blake knew that was such a childish thing to think. This man had somehow been knowledgeable enough to be the front runner of finding out about time travel for God's sake. In some lowly rebellion with the few scientists and researchers that hadn't been under Murphy's mind manipulation, and by some very fortuitous stroke of luck, managed to actually accomplish time-warping. In what ways, Blake was too underprivileged in her knowledge to understand, but it happened, and Jackson wasn't going to waste her on their chance to make things right.

 

Very briefly, she wondered if this was some sort of test run. The apple had been okay, but really, who was going to trust a man being sent back in time for five minutes against her and Murphy being sent back years?

 

The decisions, the way time could be altered so drastically, all the effects to the newest recreation of the future-- there had to be some catch. Some reason they sent her, inexperienced and likely ranking far under their appreciation of capability, when the fate of humanity was at stake. Resting it in her hands like they refused to see the risks she held already.

 

Or for it to just be because of her morale? Please.

 

Her mind was filled with a tossup of questions and lies, and it only figures that mistakes would cloud it as well.

 

The truck came to an abrupt stop, wheels halting with a screech as they slammed into one of the dead. The sharp thwack of flesh against metal, like a resonating clang with a sudden squish. She heard swears fly out from the slitted windows as the four of them in the back braced themselves against the immediate lurch.

 

She watched 10K slide forwards, unable to gain his footing quick enough, despite any fast reflexes from the sniper. There were bodies against the back window before any of them had the time to register it; Cassandra thrown against the flooring of the bed, Mack towards the window as he gripped 10K's pantleg to keep him from flying over. Blake just barely managed not to end up in the human pile, thrown forwards before falling on her back, her ribs knocking against the latch to the tailgate.

 

"Sorry!" Garnett, maybe? Everything was a sudden echo of white noise, adrenaline rushing through her system giving everything this static aura. Her heart pounding in her head as she looked over the edge of the truck bed, vision this odd tunnel as it cleared, seeing just enough to know that Addy had given mercy to the runover mess of decay.

 

"Keep your eyes on the road next time!" Ah yes, that was Murphy.

 

The conversation died away as the windows rolled up and the car's engine stalled. The moans of the dead carried from a block down in the eerily stagnant air.

 

They made it out of Carterville some time ago, out in some quaint little neighborhood. The houses weren't the exact same, but the HOA seemed to keep them pretty consistent. What with all the cream paneling and lacking of egregious designs meant to emulate some unique sense of identity.

 

White picket fences rivaled stone walls, a mess of pine needles littering the concrete sidewalks that blocked each neighbors' overgrown lawns. Mangled shapes positioned themselves in the grass-- an imprint of a body circled by trampled footprints in the greenery. A piece of history, so to speak. One story or another of someone's last living moments.

 

The truck idled between the intersecting streets, facing a small two story farmhouse, sat in all its glory with a faded white shed, and an unusually upkept house. Flowers blossomed in hanging baskets and wooden buckets. Vines climbed the sides of the house neatly, as if respecting the presence of the homeowner. Bushes fledged out into the freshly trimmed grass, a picture of perfection to a stringent gardener, whose motivation direly hinged on maintaining the best quality lawn.

 

Pre-Z, nods of appreciation would be shared and complimented by envious eyes.

 

In the apocalypse though, atypical meant wary looks and greedy stares.

 

Back in the Past Life, Blake traveled her fair share across the states. Mostly up North, never quite passing the border until Altura offered refuge. She knew, especially later in the apocalypse, what occupied houses entailed.

 

If it wasn't just some lucky sap that managed to strike gold in a safe haven of a home, then it was some doomsday prepper in a strategic set-up. Untrusting of the human populous to have any sort of decency to their survival, and hellbent to keep themselves protected from innocent and culpable alike.

 

The truck doors slammed as the group exited, crowding around the hood. There weren't any zombies around, but it would be a major oversight to assume they weren't already coming.

 

"What are you thinking?" Garnett said after a minute, staring down the house. There was a good few minutes that they waited, expecting some sort of configuration or movement. Alive or dead, it didn’t really matter until they knew for sure there was something in there.

 

But thus far, nothing. Not so much as the ruffle of blinds for some dead-eyed sharp shooter.

 

"I'm thinking about what trouble we'll cause if we find out someone still lives in there." Warren's eyes didn't so much as leave the house, narrowing into a squint as she shifted forwards. Her attention strayed, caught to something, but it didn't last when she finally did turn back to the group. "There are houses down the street. Considering we choose the safest bet." She turned her head up, tilting her chin towards Garnett, signaling him to weigh in.

 

There's houses right next door, with secure stone walls and varying degrees of rust on its locked gates, but safe nonetheless. Marginally, that is, if they decided to overlook the fact that one occupied house in the area could mean an altercation sooner or later, let it be if they stayed a couple hours, or settled down for the night. A sudden raid for supplies wasn't out of the option when people were desperate.

 

And by God were they desperate.

 

The air fell stagnant as the Seargent and Lieutenant mulled over their options. Moans of the Z's didn't seem to be nearing them, but they were still dangerously close for comfort. There hadn't been so much as a creak from the house before them, save for the flap of the patriotic flag, undeterred nor ripped, as it waved in the gathering wind.

 

Blake hadn't paid much mind until Cassandra pushed her way forwards, eyebrows knitted together as she leaned with her ear towards the house. "Does anyone else hear that?"

 

"Hear what?" She asked, only to be shot down immediately. She ignored Murphy's smirk, determined to not give him any more satisfaction.

 

"That…buzzing." The girl's breath caught in her throat, minutely, only to huff a second later. Her eyes trailed up to the telephone poles, then to the metal fencing that caged in the lawn.

 

Blake listened, and listened some more, only it seemed she heard anything other than what Cassandra was aiming for. The cries of the dead bounced around the street corners, carried by the evening breeze that was just starting to pick up. There was no buzzing, not to her, at least, but younger ears seemed to notice it sooner, Addy angling her head closer to Cassandra's.

 

"Yeah, yeah. It's a…" She motioned her finger in a loop, staring at Mack as if he held some answer to her unasked question. "Like a hum-- for an electric fence." Addy nodding in agreement, filling in the blanks for those that couldn't quite seem to hear it.

 

She couldn't help that her first thought was alarm, screaming at her like the high pitched whine of a siren. Danger, danger, danger with its red flashing lights.

 

They were going to get jumped-- no they weren't.

 

Their supplies, the bare minimum of what they could carry, gone, taken by the people that stood not a hundred feet from-- unlikely.

 

The deaths of Operation Bitemark trailed down the red of the lights, this thick dark hue that coated the flashing strobes, until her world was one solid color. Dyeing the back of her mind with death instead of danger; dyeing the manic fear with utter dread and failure.

 

Dyeing, and dyeing, and they were all dying.

 

Her eyes caught Murphy's, and the hue of red turned to a fiery orange. Anger pulsated through her veins like fire that ravaged skin, but he looked unphased, if not content. Like it was hardly anything to worry over.

 

He knew, her mind filled in for her, because he lived this. He knows.

 

But the fire flared and raged, because it seemed at every possible turn, something turned to shit where it wasn't supposed to.

 

Who knows what could be different and wrong here. Him? The man that let the blood stain the dirt red and called it a noble sacrifice? Two birds and one stone, and yet that stone was nothing more than what a petulant child threw just to defy.

 

No, no. He was not to be trusted again.

 

Her fury went unnoticed, it seemed, for the first time in days. The group was more occupied with their recent discovery than her own bitter determination.

 

Eyes watched the window with another wary pass before scanning the metal fence. There had to be a disfigured link, a sudden spark that zapped the breezy air that rustled against it. She assumed they were searching for as much, some visual tell to confirm their suspicions.

 

"It can't hurt to test it." Garnett offered, a one shoulder shrug that didn't really adhere to the whole group, not on an opinion basis anyways.

 

"It could, actually." Murphy drawled, throwing his own shrug back like it meant anything when Garnett was turned away from him. "A lot." He added, that same lowly voiced sarcasm falling on mostly deaf ears.

 

Seems they both got that going for them. She couldn't help but claim some victory off of that, her lip twitching upwards as she turned to Murphy. His simmering despise for her felt like a drop of cool water on her blazing flames.

 

They were both on the same sinking boat, for a little while. In different ways, but the same boat nonetheless.

 

For the time being though, there were no zombies that rallied from around the corner, and it wasn't like the group was adept to electrocuting themselves, so their run-over roadkill seemed to work best in their favor.

 

Hefting the lump of rotting flesh looked gruesome as an observer. But as the one doing it…she pitied the unlucky soul.

 

"Don't expect me to do it."

 

"Nobody was asking you, Murphy."

 

"Look, nobody wants to do it, but under the circumstances…"

 

"Not to pawn it off on the younger ones but I just don't think my old joints could handle it, you know?"

 

"Hey, wait, no. Don't look at me!"

 

"Count me out. I agree with Addy."

 

"I vote we get Blake to do it, for penance of almost killing me and all."

 

Safe to say, she pitied herself far too damn much.

 

She had help, at least, with the Z's deadweight. Mack hoisting the feet off the ground as Garnett helped lift it up, and turned it on its side. She can't say she ever would like to be on the underside of a dead dead Z like that again, with its body a pendulum that swung towards Garnett with each pull, until it was pushed forwards by gravity itself. Like some goddamn joke, it felt like, as bits of peeling skin fell between the bridge of her nose and her lips. Mother nature laughing in her face as the heavy bastard nearly fell on top of her, oozing blood dripping from the tip of its nose to the strands of hair that stuck to her forehead. Rotted teeth near about to fall out from its head, save for the bits of gum that hadn't decayed. Instead, drool spiraled from its lips, pieces of meaty chunks falling with it.

 

But hey, at least it wasn't teeth, right?

 

Dread accompanied her as she tried to drag the body, but her rage…that clung to her and refused to let up. Because goddamn Murphy, the miserable son of a bitch. Offering her to the wolves at every turn, plotting against her, she knew. Oh, did she know it. He may be sly and arrogant, and an all-around asshole, but the Risen had her study the weasel until she got his image seared into her brain.

 

Every report, every speech, every documented encounter that they could get their hands on. And this was years before they had even planned on capturing Murphy and getting Sun Mei's cure.

 

Anyone serving on the rebellion knew. They knew him, knew what they were fighting against, why they had to. The Risen made sure of it.

 

It would have made it a hell of a lot more satisfying if she knew this was Murphy's body she was heaving to an electrical fence, but the bastard just smirked at her from the truck, and she really hoped that this wasn't all for nothing.

 

Because he knew, at the end of the day.

 

She couldn't have been happier when they tossed the Z onto the metal fence. Threw, really, as she watched flesh impale the metal spikes that protruded outward through torn tissue. Skewered limbs came to life, momentarily, as electricity pulsated through them, jerking the body as much as the spikes allowed. Rotting flesh turned charred where the electrical fencing caught, burning like overdone meat on kabobs.

 

Ughhh, how she wished she could get that out of her head now. Gross.

 

"Damnnn." Doc emphasized, a chuckle escaping him. "If that ain't the best zombie apocalypse set-up I've seen."

 

She heard the older man shuffle closer to 10K, bits of their conversation about perfect world-ending modifications to houses hung in the air, but Warren's hum of approval garnished it, her mind made up. A nod only cementing it further.

 

"I can't say this isn't the safest place to stay in for the night…" She hesitated. Blake never liked when Warren hesitated. "If no one lives here."

 

"C'mon, does it look like anyone lives here?" No one did last time, then, if Murphy was so sure about it. But what if it's changed? So much has changed already. "I don't think they'd be letting us grill a zombie on their fence just for the heck of it, huh?" He attempted to usher them forward, notably still keeping a barrier of people between him and her.

 

"Murphy, hold on." Warren's glare had him stopping in his tracks, the only one, by any standard, that had some level of control over the dictator. "We still don't know what's going to be inside when we get in there."

 

"For all we know, there still could be people inside waiting for us to let our guard down." Garnett chimed in, eyes glazing past the smoking corpse still being mutilated on the electric chain-link. "I don't think we should risk it."

 

Doc cleared his throat, taking a step forward, closer to Murphy as if his ushering had done justice after all. "I dunno, man. As much as I hate to say it, Murphy's got a point. Uh, no offense." He added, waving a hand above Murphy's shoulder for good measure. "I mean, I wouldn't want some random people lingering outside my house messing with my doomsday set-up."

 

By Doc's intervention, the idea didn't seem to get shot down as quickly, the joint leaders of Operation Bitemark facing the house once more. Some silent conversation passed between them, Warren and Garnett's eyes alone sharing information and devising a plan. It amazed her, that level of security to know one another's thoughts-- that trust and relationship with each other, so close you could read each other's mind.

 

"Alright." Garnett faced them again, scanning the group, picking roles for them, it seemed. "If we do this, we do this carefully. Three go in, you check the house and make sure that it's clear. You see any danger, you call for help. Don't fire your weapons unless you have to. Melee only. Understood?"

 

The red lights dimmed, minutely, as if everything felt less dangerous. She wasn't sure why, why the sirens weren't blaring in her head, and the thick trails of blood weren't coating them, but the methodical layout seemed to shape some reason in her brain to keep her calm.

 

She'll go in with the other two (she has to), the group will be outside-- they have back-up and assurance. Loud firearms can't attract the undead this time, save for necessity, but that puts them closer to the red zone if they do get attacked.

 

They won't.

 

No one was here last time, they’re safe, they're fine.

 

Murphy knows.

 

But he doesn't know what's changed.

 

--- line break ---

 

Garnett's POV

 

Burning flesh chars the roof of his mouth, and it’s the worst taste he could ever imagine. A tang of putrid rotted meat that sizzles and burns like bacon, but leaves with the vile, horrendous accumulation of rancidness. It's a taste he wants out of his mouth, at any and all costs.

 

Their water is running low, and dehydration sneaks up on them every day. If he wastes it on this, they could be facing days without being able to drink. Days that could set them back who knows how long.

 

Death's unfriendly face peeks around the corner each turn they make. He can't make another wrong turn, not with this.

 

He promises Warren that it will be quick. He, 10K, and Mack won't be long. She's a strong woman, the strongest person, really, he's ever known. She could take care of Murphy and McLanley in proximity to one another for a couple minutes, easy. And if anything, she has numbers on them, with Doc, Addy, and Cassandra standing guard with her.

 

But that's not the problem. He knows this, but it's easier to deny, deny, deny.

 

He takes his hammer out from his belt just as McLanley begs, pleads nearly, with him to go inside. Take the spot of 10K ("you need a sniper on the lookout") or Mack ("you want me away from Murphy, and I don't want to be near him. I can help inside, please") but he ignores it.

 

This has to be careful, meticulous. He can't trust Blake any more than he can trust Murphy inside. He can't trust her anymore, period.

 

It's always easier to deny.

 

Roberta's deep dark brown eyes meet his, and he watches the worry flash across them, the fear, the layers of vulnerability that peel back for him, and he can't help but see a hazel tint. Honey dew that shimmer gold when the light hits them just right. This purity, this treasure, those eyes that he's never known could have such elegant wealth to them.

 

He sees love, or the few unguarded pieces of it. In the hints of hazel, he knows it's there.

 

He just doesn't know if it's bits of Roberta he sees or pieces of Amy.

 

She haunts him, every now and then. Graceful steps that tip toe through an open field or a small corridor, levitating, really, as her feet brush across the ground. Words dull to a whisper, no longer her screams, and he can't seem to remember much of her voice.

 

He doesn’t know if he wants to, after years of her cries being the only thing that filled his head.

 

But that doesn't mean he loves her any less. He still sees her, in a lonesome daisy alongside the road, as fresh and beautiful as it was before the world ended. She's a star that twinkles at the end of the little dipper, a wren that glides across the clear blue sky. She's all the little things he loved about her.

 

He sees her in Roberta's eyes, that hint of hazel… until its enveloped into an ebony pool of colors warping to create dark hues. All different shades blending together, a creation that grounds him, keeps him from floating away again, that mixes until the darkness is a tale of all that Roberta offers and all that she receives.

 

There's a knot in his mind that tangles and twists these two strings together, and he can't seem to find a way to unravel them. One collides into another, bunching from interval to interval, as chaos runs parallel.

 

But to sever it, that connection…he couldn't. Never.

 

He survives and survives and survives, if only it means to be consistent and deny.

 

Gentle fingers caress his hand, the tight fist that clutches at his side, and Charles meets her gaze.

 

He's alright. For the first time in years, he actually feels like he's made it somewhere, done something that made it just a little bit more right. The first step without falling back two. He's done it, finally.

 

Her head tilts, those dark eyes drift to the shadows. Are you sure?

 

He is.

 

And then Blake pleads, she begs, and he assures her that it won't be long before the house is checked and she's separated from The Package again. It’s not what she wants to hear, but it's the most he can offer her.

 

He tries to blur the fear that paints her face as she looks at him. Wild, desperate eyes crowded with despair and distress need to fade without becoming something more, and he wills them away.

 

He's an artist with white paint to his canvas. He's a survivor with a bloodied hammer to the apocalypse.

 

The house stands foreboding, like a cabin in the woods under the dark cascade of trees. It's death call, not the crow of a flock of birds, the thunderous roar of their flapping wings, but the buzz of electricity. The undercurrent of high voltage that courses through the body of the undead, burning it from punctured tendons and flesh.

 

Flesh that singes from the inside out, meat that blackens under red and pink scar tissue. Sparks flicker from its body, ensnared in its violent trap, burning, and burning and burning, and God does it smell.

 

Charles flips the hammer, peeling the decaying piece of scalded flesh off the chain link metal, watching as its mutilated form crumples to the sidewalk. Mercy. From the tires of the truck, to the spike of a Z-Whacker, to the electrical fence. Horrendous, slow incineration, but mercy.

 

Embers float beneath his teeth and char sticks to his tongue, and he would really like to rifle through their stash until he grasped at the metal canister of their water, but he controls himself. Stares into the brown of Roberta's eyes, and for a moment, she's a mirage of water that he finds hope in, hydrates himself on faith alone to reign in enough of his composure to lead the two young men into the back entrance of the house.

 

It’s quiet.

 

Abandon places usually have that effect, but Charles can't find any comfort in it. The world used to be this loud assortment of sounds. Ticking and whooshing and ever present. Something that didn't make sense together, a choir without a melody, but somehow, all fell into place overtime.

 

Now, all he can hear is white noise.

 

A ringing in his ears that takes the place of all the sounds before it. A silence that fills the room, but can't quite seem to reach his head.

 

He carries on. He's carried on. It's all too familiar despite its unfamiliarity.

 

The house lives up to his expectations, more or less. It's small enough where the rooms run into the next without much space between them. Old bullet casings are discarded near the windows, piles of dust and grime paint the wooden floorboards. A cabinet hangs off its hinges, once filled with necessities and supplies now has death's stench in its place.

 

But it's more of a home than he's seen in a very long time.

 

Flower print curtains hang tied with rope, cracked just enough for the withered plant beneath it to get light. Framed family photos adorn the peeling wallpaper and sprawl ungraciously across the rustic wooden mantel. A husband in red plaid, a dandelion's stem twirled around his finger, his sun-kissed wife holding it steady beneath his palm. Two children cuddled on hay in the white paneled shed, the cracked frame facing the doorway, two columns of blue inked etches running parallel to one another.

 

The house creaks and shifts with its desertion. Memories a quiet moan, a lonesome toy, a worn jacket and thumbed book.

 

They walk as silent spectators, blind to its many stories.

 

Charles' mouth runs dry, filled with the dust that greedily hordes the air. Stagnant and still as he wades through it, leading the younger men behind him as he chokes. Smothering his lungs but all he can do to hold onto his sanity is deny.

 

Slow footfalls take the place of soft-spoken commands, urging them forward. The downstairs encases them in frozen solitude, as marred white walls traverse upwards. Two dark wooden doors sit at its peak, and with Charles' silent commands, he orders for the two men to take their positions.

 

Mack guards the bottom step, better to be safe if they somehow managed to miss something. No telling when they could get ambushed, by a human or a Z, it's better to cover all avenues. No mistakes, no more screw-ups. You only get so many, after all.

 

10K stands behind him, sling-shot at a ready just above Charles' shoulder. He knows the kid's got a good eye for this stuff, proven time and time again, his shots as impeccable as his accuracy, but he stands an inch or two to the kid's left, just in case.

 

He could live with getting nicked in the ear, but as unpredictability has it, Garnett's not taking any chances. He wouldn't be surprised if he's used those all up, or better yet, all of his luck.

 

"If it's my time"… give up.

 

"We're all living on borrowed time"…they're waiting.

 

What's the point in living?

 

But he didn't die. He survived and survived, and lived to see each rising sun burst across the dull night sky, and the winking star at the end of the little dipper wish him good morning.

 

He lived, and he's done trying to lie down in the grave he's dug waiting for the dirt to fall on top of him.

 

Ready with his hammer, his pushes the door inward, prepared to swing and duck. But the walls close in around a queen bed as four bodies lie piled onto the blood soaked comforter.

 

The smell is what gets him first, long before the sight does. You can't walk less than ten feet without the reek of decay bombarding your sense. It's just the new normal. It blurs into the background, from pollution in the city to the stench of manure filled water in pivots. You get used to it.

 

But this gets him.

 

The room is about as a big as two hallway closets combined, just enough space for the chipped wooden dresser pressed against the bed and a little space to walk around between the two. The narrow curtain drawn window is sealed shut, an air-tight tomb, encouraging everything inside to stay inside. But with the door wide open, it hits him first.

 

Of rot. Of metallic iron. Of raw meat and feces.

 

Sickly green skin is stretched nearly blue across the Z's faces, thick trails of red running down the bullet holes and knife wounds punctured into the flesh. Sun-kissed skin of the woman in the picture downstairs is rotted. Blemishes coat her face where blood doesn't already splatter against her and her children. Whites of three pairs of eyes stare at him, purposefully set strewn across the bed.

 

The older man, pale skin losing color, fading blue, lies beneath his family, eyelids fallen relaxed. His wife's legs across his own, his son's back rested in the crook of his arm. His daughter lies not too far from him, placed with care atop her mother.

 

Dried blood stains his chin, a gun peeking out from under the bed.

 

Acid overwhelms the saliva on his tongue, rising from his throat. Burning and burning and burning.

 

"Jesus." He breathes out and hopes vomit doesn't come with it.

 

This isn't something new. It's not. Hundreds of times before flee his mind, of all the mercies given to elders at Camp Blue Sky, of operations sent to homes where trapped families lie dead. He's seen this before. It's nothing new.

 

It feels new.

 

He motions for 10K to take a step down, nausea rises, and has half a mind to shut the door before he turns away, wanting- no, needing to bolt down the steps to the outside air, hearing the latch click, but not really hearing it.

 

The kid abides, doesn't seem to pick up on anything out of the ordinary, and centers his attention on the door beside Charles. Mack looks up at them, doesn't ask if anything is wrong, but seems to think it's okay anyhow. Garnett gives the signal, just to confirm it is-- It's not.

 

He makes quick work, turning towards the door with his weapon drawn. It's dark wood is a void, and he grips the silver handle, oiled finger prints staining it a rustic gold. It turns, and it spirals, as he pushes it inwards, gazing around what seems to be the daughter's bedroom, Jackie's heart mirror and Cinderella blanket, in better condition than the room beside it. Almost untouched to the apocalypse outside.

 

No signs of life. No movement, no Z's.

 

They're all dead.

 

Every last one of them.

 

"All clear." The first words since they stepped foot into the house, muffled by the gasp of air he takes in return, the welling of bile creeping up the back of his throat. He pushes it down, it's gone before it could settle in his mouth just as the three of them head towards the front door.

 

They make it just in time to usher the group in before nasty Z's, starved of brains and organs, rush towards them. Warren yells, Charles can't hear it, as the group stumbles into the fenced area, zombies hot on their tail. The electric fence sparks at the first contact, limp bodies flying onto the metal spikes, as more and more, and more and more, are zapped with enough volts of electricity to bring them back to life.

 

The char is back to prickling at his mouth, absorbing into his gums until it's the only thing that he can taste. His tongue brushes incessantly along the inside of his mouth, presses into the flesh, and he hopes to God that it goes away, but all he ends up tasting is blood. Iron that coats the char and blackened meaty tang that feels like acid and bile and vomit and nausea that makes him want to puke.

 

He needs water.

 

Their supply is low-- and he can't give a damn at the moment. He needs it out of his mouth, out of his mouth and out of his head, and out out out Goddammit.

 

He resists, he doesn't need, as he stares into Roberta's eyes. He's floating away (up, up, and up) and he needs those deep dark brown pools to ground him again. He needs her, but she's looking away, guiding the group, leading them to safety as he stands there frozen and flying up up and up.

 

His mouth is cotton. His tongue is burned, he tastes the char and the blood, the flames licking the roof of his mouth. It's burning and burning, burnt to a crisp and burning still.

 

He needs water. He needs a drink. Anything.

 

The group rushes inside, away from the zombies, away from the dead and into a house of death. He stays on the porch and heaves. Heaves and heaves, until the air only oxygenates the flames in his mouth, smoke pillows through his nose, stinging tears to the corners of his eyes. Red-rimmed and fighting to not burn too.

 

Water. He's floating and burning all at once. Drink the water.

 

He's not burning. There is no fire. It's gone, gone, gone. Water won't help.

 

But what is he if not denying?

 

Deny the flames that ravage and flare.

 

Deny their faces as they plead and stare.

 

Deny the ghosts that stalk him in broad daylight.

 

Deny the bloodied forms that pound on the car window.

 

Deny death's face as it welcomes him to grave.

 

Drink the water.

 

He needs to drink, he needs reprieve. He's taken two steps back and fallen into the flames.

 

Drink the water

                                                 Drink the water

          

           Drink the water                                         

                                                            Drink the water

                                  

                                      Drink the water

 

 

Drink

            the

                       water

 

 

So he does.

 

------- line break ------

 

Murphy's POV:

 

You see, while mankind teeters on the brink of extinction, leave it to Operation Bitemark to find some domesticity in this God-forsaken world.

 

The house is consistent, he'll give it that much. Human and normal once they all settle in, and all around a nice thirty or so minute resting point before they have to haul ass back onto the road. Predictable, or something like that.

 

They ravaged the house before anything else in search of the brass tacks; medicine, food, water, the good stuff. And whaddya know, they came up short. Again. That wouldn't have been a surprise, even with his omniscient time travel knowledge.

 

Lucky them, after Garnett chugged a quarter of their water, the kind forces of the apocalypse decided they're happy enough not to screw them over, just this once, and left a half gallon of water near the utilities room. Yay for the little things.

 

Those 'little things', it seems, are also the group playing house. The two young lovebugs can't seem to ever get enough of each other, and loathe as Murphy is to admit that their incessant urge to cling to one another is getting obnoxious, it's nice to see Addy happy. Young and innocent, and with two eyes, of all things.

 

And Mack's fine too. An asshole, but hey, who's he to judge?

 

The other two lovebugs are making their own little pocket of homely normality in the kitchen, hording a pair of unbroken mugs, refusing to share their evening brewed coffee. Something to do with conserving water, and first-come-first-serve, but really, Murphy stopped listening a couple seconds in. There's battles to pick when you know the outcome, and Murphy's never found it successful when arguing supplies with Warren.

 

She stays close to Garnett, abnormally so, and Murphy's having a hard time remembering if this happened last time. In the Past Life, or whatever Blake and the Risen command it to be, he remembers something going down between them, but it mostly had to do with Roberta. It doesn't matter, not really, but these past few instances where the world flames and burns around them in all the wrong places is really starting to get to him. How is he supposed to stop the fire from starting if he doesn't even know where it's gonna happen?

 

I mean, it's unacceptable what they're asking him to do! Wasn't the whole point of time traveling supposed to make it easier to handle this shit? Why wouldn't it just turn on its head and leave him in the dark on how to fix it? Just his luck.

 

He leans back, eyes trailing to Cassandra curled up like a cat on the couch, blanket half off her bunched up form, her jacket wrangled around her thin body. The glint of silver shimmers under the dim lamp light, poking just out of her pocket. Murphy can't decide how much of a problem that would cause, and if Cassandra puncturing her stomach with a knife is in the roster for possible changed outcomes.

 

He leaves it be, for now, knowing him getting stabbed in the hand by the traumatized recovering cannibal is a very real possibility.

 

The kid sits beside Cassandra, and Murphy has a vague memory of someone almost losing a finger or two. He figures it has something to do with 10K blushing all red when he stares at the girl's rising chest and deep breaths, desperately trying to keep his eyes to himself as he flips through the more lax Metropolitan magazines.

 

Pity to the many, there wasn't much else to entertain themselves with. Murphy looked, he tried, and came up disappointed in the end. Of all the things, there was not one damn magazine that was good, and the only one mildly appealing to read (or let's be honest, look at) was snatched by the boy. Figures.

 

So it was on to cards, again.

 

Their oxy was in short supply, as was most else, but Vicodin and tetracycline were expandable to betting, at least by Doc's standards. Up until Murphy's hand in cards continually trumped the older man's, and their handfuls of meds went down to just a handful.

 

"Murphy, man, I don't know what you're doing, but I ain't gonna have much left if we keep playing like this."

 

"What can I say?" He shoulders a shrug, shuffling the cards before Doc snatches them off of him, shaking his head. "I'm the king of poker."

 

Doc chuckles, eyeing through the deck. "Yeah, sure. You're the king of something."

 

The door slams as Doc deals the fourth hand, intermixed giggles fading into the worsening wind. The tornado, 'Z-Nado' more officially deigned, gathering in strength. Over towards wherever the hell they had been in Missouri. Warren's hometown--no, her home.

 

He plans to avoid her come to Jesus moment this time around, refusing to let her get snatched up by a tornado just for some damn closure.

 

The clinks and clanks in the kitchen provide some background to the static radio. It's comforting, and a bit overwhelming, with so many noises now. With the building wind and the electricity coursing through the house, Murphy finds that three years really dulls a person's senses. 

 

He catches a glimpse from the corner of his eye as Blake worries by the window. Lengthy, claw fingers pulling at the blinds to watch the zombies discover that electrocution wasn't just confined to the death penalty only. And within the same moment, he decides he's not going to spend much time pondering whatever existential crisis his attempted murderer was going through.

 

She's drowning in her little sinking ship, and he has no intention to save her. He may be the Savior to Humanity, but he's not her savior. She's made that very clear in the recent past…and the past past.

 

The woosh of cards draws Murphy's attention back to the table, folding his four of seven face up as he weighs his hand. Doc watches him, hawk eyes squinting, waiting for Murphy to switch them. Popular opinion was that he was a cheater. Just so it happens, popular opinion is right.

 

Sometimes.

 

Sometimes he just gets really lucky. He can't say that happens often.

 

Eyes trail toward 10K, the boy back to being a befuddled tomato, and in light of maintaining and growing relationships, he offers to spare the boy his dignity. And hopefully a stab wound.

 

"You know how to play?" He projects in a shout, and thinks halfway through that Cassandra might roll on her knife by accident. It catches the attention of three of the five people in the room, the girl blissfully unphased. Thank God. "Besides Go Fish." He lowers his voice to a whisper, knowing full well the boy was shit at reading lips.

 

10K stares at him, and then stares at him a little longer, and Murphy is really getting uncomfortable with all this staring.

 

"Alright. Forget I asked." He gives Doc a shrug, at least he tried. It's the thought that counts, right?

 

His vision gazes past Blake. Her almond black eyes spew trails of ink in the form of deception. "I'm not even going to ask you." Seclude, segregate. She's alone now.

 

"Yes, I know how to play. And yes, I know I'm not invited." She answers anyways, but Murphy finds joy in the fact that he can ignore her.

 

Doc, however, does not.

 

"Aw, c'mon Murphy." The older man brushes his hand along the table, his foot dragging the chair as it screeches across the floor. "You wanna play, Blake?" He's kind and caring, and as much as Murphy likes that about the man, he hates that Doc gives it to people like her.

 

Blake gives him a soft smile, her finest act. "I'll watch. Thanks anyway, Doc."

 

With the forlorn look Doc gave her, you woulda thought she kicked a puppy square in the little black snout. Low and behold, Blake's probably the best person in the room to do just that. How fitting.

 

But he doesn't care enough to think about that. Blake can fight her own battles, and lie on the bloody battlefield of her own making. She's not getting any help from him, not again, not after her stunt. Not after her threats, the guns to his chest that itch at her finger, smoking guns that rest at each of his group's heads. Like her coalition with the Risen isn't bad enough-- Please. What right did she get for his trust? For his help?

 

She'll sink, and she'll drown, and Murphy won't have to worry about her ruining all that his good and well with her holier than thou-ness.

 

He'll save his group, from the things he knows. Blake doesn't have to run interference, the moderator and executioner to stand judge and destroy.

 

"Murphy, hey. You gonna play?" Doc doesn't tap his shoulder, per say. More hovers his hand, at some half-way point between nudging him and waving his hand in front of his face.

 

He flicks his wrist back, shaking his head. Tangled strands of hair fall into his eyes, and Murphy swears he sees locks drift onto the floor. Just when he's starting to get used to it, it's taken away. Again and again. Why wouldn't it be?

 

"Too scared you'll lose?" He snips back, drumming his finger onto his nine of hearts. Doc scoffs, good-naturedly, back to eyeing the deck for any inconsistency. There wasn't any, Murphy was being good this hand, and he figures some congratulations were in order for it.

 

Sometimes he gets lucky.

 

But who's better to accuse than the boy who cries wolf?

 

"I can't believe you." The older man rags, a skeptic at heart as he watches Murphy whisk his winnings closer towards himself.

 

"What can I say." He echoes, throwing his hands up in some grandiose reveal.

 

"Yeah, yeah. 'King of poker', I get it." Doc waves off his flaunting, turns to Blake to bring her into the conversation, but the woman has already slithered away, off to kiss ass or whatever she's been trying to do.

 

"You better." He gets out through gritted teeth, wipes away the smell of smoke and ash of the loaded gun she carries, and turns to deal. "Another go?"

 

Doc feigns thought, counts the pills they have left to bet, and grins. Sheen of light that glows in his eyes and all. "Why not? But no cheating." He emphasizes, and just to prove his point, takes the cards off of Murphy. Again.

 

A crisp riff bounces down the hall as the radio finds solitude in a station that actually works. It fades to a cool, clean melody, something beachy and relaxing that Murphy can almost imagine himself down in Florida. A Miami Vice cradled in one hand, a cold damp towel in the other. Warm rays of the sun's beauty gently washing across his skin. What a life, free of the apocalypse, free of time travel and the Risen's bullshit.

 

What a life it could have been.

 

They play another hand, and Murphy wins, obviously. No time travel needed for his skills, though he brushes off Doc's complaints of his cheating, which he did not, mind you! Not that time, at least, or the time before that.

 

His victory is short lived as Simon goes and plays weatherman on the radio. Inclement weather that and tornado this. Murphy thinks about mentioning that they should stay away from Missouri, specifically the area where Roberta's house is, but he thinks better of it, figuring it will be too on the nose. Besides, nobody died last time. The most he has to do is keep Warren from posing as Dorothy, waiting for her dead, zombie husband to fall magically under her house like those sparky red shoes.

 

With his luck, Warren would be the one under the house by the time it was all said and done.

 

"Now back to the soothing sounds of the Apocalypse."

 

Yay for them.

 

Some old country song takes the place of his beach vibes, and with that lost, he thinks about how ridiculous this whole thing is.

 

"You know," He sighs, "I'm really getting tired of all these Armageddon disasters. If mother nature is looking to exterminate us like she did the dinosaurs, couldn't she at least do it quickly?"

 

"I dunno." Doc turns to Garnett and Warren, his optimism a light not ever completely snuffed out…from the occasionally high survivor to his Blend, that was Doc. He knew it, felt it, all that time ago. "It's not like we don't got a fighting chance."

 

Their fighting chance was one group against the world. They defied odds to the bitter end, were supposed to be happy and safe only to get screwed out of it all. The Risen and it's cronies played a game they didn't understand, and ended up being the ones that set the world ablaze. Time travel wasn't some saving grace, it was a level playing field. A clean slate for insanity to take its course.

 

He scoffs, more to himself than anything, but Warren seems to take it another way. "It's your ass were transporting for that fighting chance." For hope. She always carried some semblance of that.

 

"What am I if not salvation?" He gives a coy smirk, only to have Blake's beady eyes glower from around the corner.

 

He likes to see when Roberta is amused though, as narrowly often as that is with him, catching her smile from behind her mug. She schools her grin just as quickly, smoothing out the lines on her face as she berates him. "Now, don't be getting a big head on me."

 

Making sure to throw her his devilish charm, he's interrupted as Mack and Addy lean against the doorframe, bodies just barely crashing into the other. They cling and they separate, never more than a couple feet from one another as if they're bonded together.

 

 "You're up."

 

Garnett nods, hands that had clutched the metal cannister half an hour ago now leisurely grasped the ceramic mug. "All good?"

 

"Peaceful night." Addy confirms. As if. Murphy doesn't remember this whole time period really well, but he has a vague sense that the night was anything but peaceful after this. 

 

Roberta leans across the counter, so causal and unperturbed it's somewhat disturbing for the few seconds his mind flashes between trauma and war. Roberta comatose on the table. Roberta in the pod. Roberta with hard lines and a grimace. Roberta as his Blend. "Your stalker said there's a storm front coming in." Addy juts her bottom lip in a pout as Warren continues, "How is it out there?"

 

The zombie slayer's pout turns to a grimace, analyzing over the freak of a storm they're going to experience yet again. Oh the joy.

 

"Cloudy with a chance of zombie." She flatly jokes, but it couldn't be more on the dot than that. Bright gold lights should have flashed in neon, blaring WINNER, just for the sake of how right she was.

 

Warren points, like she understands, but she really doesn't. And that makes Murphy feel a little more hollow inside than he's felt in weeks. A little bit more alone. And that's saying something, for all the organs and guts he's had eaten and torn like some holiday meal for the undead.

 

"Okay, you two get some rest." And by rest, Garnett knows damn well what those two are going to get up to. But the two lovers take their opportunity where they can get it, practically racing upstairs. Garnett and Warren take their place outside, standing guard with a broomstick in place of a gun.

 

Doc chuckles, and he finds himself following suit, dealing their sixth game just for the hell of it. They aren't going to finish, he's pretty sure of that, but what's life if not finding a way to waste time away?

 

He checks his cards, keeps the ones up his sleeve there, and pushes two tetracycline forward. "Call."

 

Doc spares him a look that time, judging his bluff, but folds regardless. "Yeah, right. I'm not buying what you're lying."

 

He hums, nodding his head offbeat to the tune. Blake's wandered closer to the table, and he's decidedly not looking her direction. Doc, ever the empath, doesn't invite her closer this time, but gives her an awkward smile in hopes of holding out an olive branch.

 

Until that bends and breaks, the woosh of a knife slicing through air kick-starting everyone's sense of survival. The teenager's clumsy blundering of apologies filters through the air instead of his screams, so Murphy figures no one was losing a finger today. Whoopie for the little things.

 

He shares a look with Doc, the older man muttering out a "goddamn" as he balks.

 

Murphy forgot just how scary Cassandra had been, long before she was his Blend. That unstable, ravenous animal side of her was threatening, alive but not, zombie but not. Cassandra as she was, though, was a whole other story.

 

They get halfway through their game before a thunderous roar cracks outside, and all the sound that felt so overwhelming before cuts out. The underwhelming portion of it starts to feel overwhelming in its silence, a thick, tight ball of air that pockets around them and starts to close in.

 

And Murphy really hates tight spaces.

 

Pings of unloading ammunition break up the silence in spurts, and all too familiar with the drill, Murphy gathers his belongings before Warren has the chance to call out "Puppies and Kittens."

 

They're out the back and loaded in the truck, thirty minutes of domesticity erased as their fun with playing house fades into the distance.

Notes:

So, "Home Sweet Zombie" demonstrates trauma through both Addy and Warren. I want to try and carry that theme on for all (or most) of the characters in their own unique sort of ways, and to a varying degree.

Notes:

Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter...
Coming soon:
Chapter two: Start and Finish

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Z-Nation: Start Over