"All right, I'm sure you remember the rules, but I have to repeat them anyway – no fighting, no sleeping, be alert at all times, and tell a regular night guard of any survivor you may spot out there, and don't try to rescue them yourself. Got it?"

We nod in unison as Samantha stares at us aggressively.

"Good," she says, and strides away, a rifle slung over her shoulder.

It has been a few days since the party. Seth's cold has gotten worse – I'm pretty sure he has a fever, he's been dizzy, and his cough is sounding worse all the time. Doyle and I told him to stay at Alicia's and rest, but he's too stubborn and insists upon coming with us to guard.

So here we all are, him leaning on the shotgun for support, his face pale, eyes tired, that hacking cough making his shoulders heave. Whatever he's got, it's probably worse than a cold. If it's the flu, I just hope it's not an aggressive kind, and that the rest of us don't get it.

We scale the ladder; first Rogan, then me, Doyle, Izzy, and last, Seth. We go our separate ways; this time I'm between Doyle and Seth. Izzy is on the far side of Seth, who is to my right, and Doyle and Rogan are on my left.

+++++

And there we stay for hours, shifting from one foot to the other, an occasional arrow flying from Rogan's bow into the head of a too-close dead thing. In the mornings people are sent out to retrieve the arrows. Rogan always gets his own.

It's early December, cold, quiet. A thin blanket of frost shimmers silver in the bright, bright moonlight. I hear Seth coughing. Standing out in this cold is definitely not good for him.

Izzy's voice comes drifting to my ears... "You really should go back to the house. You're gonna give yourself pneumonia or whatever."

"Shut up, I'm fine." But right after he says that, he starts coughing again.

"Seriously, you idiot."

My feet are freezing, and so is the rest of me. I decide I'll generate some body heat and go ask Doyle what time it is, since he actually has a watch.

I practically march over to him, lifting my feet high and bringing them down hard, trying to get my blood moving. When I reach him, I tap him on the shoulder, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

"What time is it?"

"Uhh..." he brings his wrist right up to his eyes, squinting. Fortunately, the full moon casts enough light for him to make out the time. "About two-thirty."

"Oh, good, only four or five more hours 'til sunrise," I say, my breath floating out in a wispy little cloud from my mouth, "It's so cold out here."

"Yeah," Doyle says, rubbing his hands together. Good thing he finally got himself a coat. "But at least it's not –"

"Oh my god!" Izzy's scream slices through the still night air. "Hey, a little help!"

Doyle and I take off running toward her voice. When we reach her, she's leaning over the side of the wall.

"What? What's wrong?" I gasp.

She points down to the ground on the outside of the wall. "It's Seth – he fell!"

"Oh shit!" Doyle exclaims, peering over the wall. I follow his gaze and see Seth's body lying in the frost-covered grass.

"Is he dead?" I whisper.

"No!" Izzy tells me, her voice making it clear it was a stupid question, "This wall's barely ten feet tall. Worst he's got is a broken bone or two."

"I'll go get him," Doyle says, turning back to the ladder.

"I'm coming with you," I say. Turning to Izzy, I tell her to stay here and keep watch while we're gone.

"Fine," she rolls her eyes.

+++++

Doyle fiddles with the chain on the gate.

"Hurry up, the dead things will notice him soon," I hiss, glancing around somewhat nervously. We were told not to go out without telling somebody. But there's nobody around, and we don't have time to find someone.

Finally, he heaves the gate open and we hurry through it, quickly closing it behind us. We have no flashlights, the moon is all the light we have. I hear the moans of dead things who have smelled us.

"Hurry, hurry," I tell myself under my breath.

In a matter of seconds we've found Seth. Doyle bends down and drapes Seth's arm across his shoulders. I get Seth's other arm and put it around my shoulders, and we slowly make our way back to the gate.

Doyle supports Seth as I shove open the gate. A lone dead thing is stumbling up behind Seth and Doyle. I lunge toward it and sink a knife into its skull. Then I help Doyle get Seth back inside the wall.

Gently we lower him into a sitting position against the wall, and Doyle closes the gate again.

Seth is unconscious. I can't tell if he does have any broken bones. "Where do we take him?" I ask Doyle when he returns.

"Back to Alicia's," he tells me, lifting Seth back up, "If there's a doctor here, he can come to the house."