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Arin's P.O.V.

I survey our surroundings. A burly man around my age, but who is still taller than I towers over Roseline and I, about five people flanking him. On instinct, I grab Roseline's wrist and pull her behind me. I can feel her rolling her eyes already.

"I'm Anselm. There are six of us, and..." Anselm looks over his shoulder, and I watch as a young girl around five or six stumbles forward.

Roseline gasps behind me. I see it too in that girl's milky eyes and slightly black lips.

She's infected.

"Dera here is infected, but she's surviving off my blood. I'm immune."

I hear someone yelp, and turn around. Methys is leaning against a wall with Emeline supporting her. Is she hurt? I itch to get over to them and check on Methys. Is this about... her friend?

"Is that even possible?"

"That's the point. I want to prove the world wrong. That not all the infected will remain infected."

Roseline inches forward. "So is she recovering?"                   

"I guess. She's been on and off."

I glance back. Emeline casts me a 'I don't trust them, let's go' look.

"What's your route?" To my surprise, Methys speaks up.

"Towards the capital. There's food and medicine there."

I bite my lip. I need to go home and check on Mom before we head to the capital.

"You know of any survivors 'round here?" I keep my fingers crossed. Please say yes, please say yes.

"Nope, all the neighbourhoods around here are all infected. Every one of them."

My world goes still as ice, a cold feeling spreads through me. Every one of them. Including my neighbourhood.

Mom is dead. My schoolmates and teachers are dead. They might as well be. They will not recognise me, they will try to kill me. All those giggling girls and boys on the football team. The librarian with the half-moon glasses.

I screw my eyes shut.

Someone tugs on my sleeve and I force myself to open my eyes, to return to the present. I cannot delay, cannot linger anymore.

The past is in the past. This is a feeling I feel so often, it almost feels normal.        

After a short discussion with the girls on what to do, we trudge on behind the group though Emeline points out that they look like cannibals, but Meth and Roseline say that they know where to go, we do not have a map, and they want to treat Dera at the capital, so there is no use in fooling us.

That's the first time I've ever heard them agree with one another.

We use the two spare umbrellas we have, and yet again I find myself next to Methys.

"You looked pretty troubled by the fact that Dera's like a vamp."

Methys glares at me. "I'm not a young child, Arin. I'm not troubled over vampires who drink immune people's blood." Then her eyes soften.
"That's what I could've done."

She then starts mumbling about how she could have saved that friend, the one that has the same name as me. She gets so worked up over it that she actually grabs my shirt at one point, then lets go after twisting it and really tries to pull out her hair until I stop her. Her face is coated with tears and she's punching her own leg over and over.

I do not get what she's saying. How can she save that friend? I stare at her, feeling the pressure build up. I almost want to scream and roar at the sky, but I resist.

"Oh come on, Meth. Just stop it, won't you." I glance nervously at her- currently pummeling her temple with her fist-murmuring about saving her friend and how stupid she was, and now she got herself into this mess.

I sigh and hand her the umbrella. She looks up, eyes wide open. "To keep your hands occupied."

She stares at the ground for a long time as we walk. Then I realise she's trying to match her footsteps to mine. I grin at this childish game she's creating, and make my steps bigger so she cannot lift her right foot when I do.

Within seconds, we are laughing under the umbrella, amidst this pouring black rain. I try to picture it. A boy and girl sharing an umbrella and laughing like kids while Earth is undergoing a fatal attack. I shake my head, still smiling to myself.

The sun sets quickly, and we break into a house in another neighbourhood. My aching muscles are more than glad to have rest. Methys obviously does not know how to hold an umbrella, making me bend down since she's a head shorter than I. My back aches now. 

We take turns to shower, and when it's Emeline's turn, she demands Methys to stand guard outside, and when it is Methys' turn, vice versa. Girls will be girls. Or maybe it's because there are so many boys now.

After scrubbing every inch of myself and removing all that dirt and grime from days before, I get downstairs to see everyone feasting.

Where do they get so much food from?

Then, to my utter horror, Anselm sticks an injection into his arm, drawing out his thick crimson blood, and pours it into a small plastic bag before emptying it into Dera's mouth in front of all of us. Methys drops her spoon, and walks away quickly. Everyone's eyes follow her. I grab a chicken drumstick off the table and eat it as I go.

"Methys!" I try to keep my voice down. "There may be infected in here, you better-"

"Go away." Relief floods me when I realise she has not been made into the infected's  food. Last thing I need is for another death to mourn over.

Wait, would I mourn over Methys' death?