Methys' P.O.V.

A horde of infected are charging at us, with their growls and strangled cries.

My first reaction is to scream, but it stays lodged in my throat. Not again. I'm no fighting material. If I get caught in this mess, who knows whether I'll make it out alive or not. Crossing my fingers, I hope that it's the former. Fortunately... A violent push that sends me tumbling to the ground snaps me out of my stupor. I groan and my vision goes blurry, a mixture of the colours in the surroundings. Shaking my head while pushing myself up slowly, I focus on something in front of me. An object that slowly forms a shape - a human body. And I let out a gasp just as my vision clears. It's Dera.

And she isn't herself.

Then my eyes leaves her when I catch sight of the crowd behind her. My eyes widens as I see what was approaching. Nausea hits me and my stomach feels unwell. I trace my eyes back to Dera.

I watch in horror - mixed with disgust and fear as I see Dera vomitting on the ground, doubling over. Then she straightens, and she is now twice her usual height. And her eyes... Oh stars, her eyes. There is this... this haunting - and creepy - glint in her eyes that spooks me, sending shivers up and down my spine. It identifies her as an infected, I think as I recall what we learnt from the infected so far. And I saw this... in Dad's eyes, in the legless man's eyes, and now this innocent five year old's. It makes them look deadly; lethal. I didn't want to die in the hands of an infected.

Then I notice Dera's pool of vomit. And I swear, I almost faint in fright.

A pool of crimson red blood...

My head feels faint and I almost collapse. What is happening?

I have no time to comprehend what the heck just happened before the sound of gunshots reach my ears and I dive on instinct, hitting the ground roughly.

Stupid asphalt and their rough surfaces.

Someone yells my name, and with a sudden surge of adreline I shoot to my feet, just in time as Dera—or whatever infected monster she has become—lunges at me.

A high-pitched, horrifying scream finds its way out of my throat.

"Methys!" Someone calls for me again, and I stumble backwards, before noticing that the infected are starting to close around me. The others have made it to a brick building along the side of a road, but because I'd ducked and fell to the ground, I was a minute too late.

The infected stretch out his mangled, torn hands, looking like they're about to strangle me when some instinct kicks in, and I try to incorporate what I have seen from others to fight off these monsters. I can't let them kill me. I'm too young to die.

A hand shoots out of nowhere and i jump back, losing my balance and landing on the ground roughly with a resounding 'thud'. An 'oomph' escape my lips as I struggle to get back up. My mind is already panicking and I don't know what to do. I've never been caught in this kind of situation before. Now my limbs are just useless and a heap of mess. Pushing myself up, I wince at the pain shooting up my right arm. I regret my recklessness now. Maybe I shouldn't have done that...

"Meth! You okay?" I hear someone calling out for me anxiously.

"Yeah!" I reply, picking myself up.

When I look around, I realise that the once serene atmosphere has transformed into a battlefield. Those who escaped has come back to fight the infected. I feel warm in the pit of my belly and the urge to break down and cry my heart out hits me. They came back just for me.

The word 'grateful' is just too underrated now. They could have just left me in the lurch to fend for myself. They could have ran off to find paradise but they didn't. But with the whirling arms, legs and guns, I feel disorientated. I was never born to fight. Heck, I can't even fight to save my life. My thoughts are jumbled into one whole pile of mess. I can't think clearly at all. The dos and don'ts of fighting—I don't know any of it. I guess I'll just have to go with the flow. But that doesn't mean that I have the courage to do so...

"Argh." A mangled cry rang out in the distance and I snap out of my stupor. Exactly how many of them are there? There seems to be a never-ending supply of them. Maybe it's the commotion from the fight that's attracting them to the scene.

Now I regret punching Arin earlier. If my left hand wasn't injured, I might have been a big help. Another hand comes flying my way and I jump back, caught unaware. Or maybe not... Everyone gathers together as if they could read each other's minds. We have created something like a barrier against the infected, protecting those behind that are wounded or not suitable to fight. That's smart. I'll have to thank the person who thought of this idea later. So far, there's only one person inside—a healthy-looking 50 year-old woman. I think she was the one with back problems.

Screams and grunts echo everywhere, filling my mind with seemingly endless scenarios of how war should have been like in the past. Then I spot something crawling on the ground towards me. Pushing herself through the thick whirl of people. At first, I think it's one of the survivors, but after, I see that light in her eyes. The orbs that make her look inhuman. I gasp in horror and land on my butt. How could I have forgotten about her?

I back away slowly, like what I was trained to do when meeting a snake. But it was different this time. Searching my surroundings for weapons, I spot something glimmering at the corner of my eye. Throwing another glance at the monster, I run toward the only weapon available. Upon touching the cool icy surface of the material, I pick it up and steady my racing heart.

I hesitate. Is this the right thing to do? Can I kill an innocent living creature? Do I have what it takes? These questions swirl my mind and my answer is no to every single one of them. I've always been a loser; I can always continue to be one. But... is that what I want? Am I always just a chicken? Someone that doesn't have guts? I close my eyes - although I know it's dangerous to do so - as my mouth trembles. I hear another grunt and my eyes flutter open. With my heart burning my resolve, I sprint back to find her.

And I come face-to-face with her.

Dera.

She snarls at me, and a growl emits her throat. Up again and looking more ferocious than before, my heart's in my mouth. For a second, I'm holding back the inevitable. I can't do it, I think. But then I think of how it will happen eventually and how brutal it will be. I won't let her suffer that fate.

Summoning every ounce of courage inside me, I raise the rod just as she lunges at me, and when she comes nearer, I bring it down with all my might. Dropping the rod on the ground, I retreat back and screw my eyes shut to keep away from seeing the gruesome sight. But not in time for me to catch a small glimpse of her falling limply to the ground, wiped out cold. Or most probably dead...

I'm hyperaware of everything around me; the blood, the gunshots, the pain, the battle...

And Dera lying at my feet.

With my heart thumping wildly against my ribcage, I think, It's for the best, there's nothing wrong with it.

But the question that has always been in my mind never fails to pop up and make me feel miserable again.

Or is it?

*~*

Arin's P.O.V

As soon as the infected starts to charge at us, I take a step back, and take an anxious glance at the others. Methys and Emeline looks worried while Roseline just looks as if she will break a person's neck off, completely ready to attack. Those we just met look prepared; like they can fight. A few whip out guns.

Someone hands me a gun, and I click the safety off. Fortunately, I know how to handle a gun. I remember when Dad, Mom and I were still a complete, happy family - when Mom was not fretting over the bills and trust fund, when Dad did not start gambling yet - Dad had brought us to camping. He had taught me how to shoot a Tauron 9mm - the same one that Methys had when she'd joined us. It was one of the best days of my life. I can still recall Dad's warm big callous hands holding mine and pointing it at the target. He then encouraged, "Good, son. Now, squeeze the trigger." My hands were trembling and unstable from nervousness and doubt. Dad smiled encouragingly and guided me through. With a squeeze, the gun sounded, and the birds in the vicinity flew away due to the sudden noise. I jolted back from the shock and force of the gun, losing my balance and falling back. Dad caught me swiftly and chuckled, pointing at the target. My eyes widened and I laughed gleefully, pumping my fists in the air, while my parents stared at me with pride.

Those were pleasant memories...

...but they can't be restored.

That gun's still tucked in Roseline's back pocket. It's even a wonder that that thing still works, and I know, if that thing was able to be controlled by Methys, she would have set it off and fire Roseline's butt off, just to get revenge, which would create another mess and a lot of girl drama.

Again.

Firing random shots, I try to hold back the wall of persistent infected. They replace each other at the speed of light, and just great, I try to pull the trigger of my Glock-17, but the awaited jerk doesn't come. It's jammed.

Just great. It really does know when to get stuck.

I throw my handgun down onto the dusty ground in exasperation, and decide to use my fists instead. That's what's I've been training for. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Methys rushing to grab an iron rod.

She's going to attack someone?

I return my focus to what is in front of me, and brace my fists, and tucking my thumbs out, unlike Meth. I give the first infected closest to me a sharp uppercut, sending him flying. Pummeling the next one with my fists, I watch Methys drop the rod and back away like the infected, are... well, infected, but a worse, rotting version of them.

Another infected lurches for me, and pounces onto me just as I have gotten the other one off me hastily. I try to shake him off, but he latched his arms firmly around my neck, not budging and pulling me back. My throat feels comstricted, my intake of oxygen is cut off. I try to breathe in through my mouth but fail so. Head feeling as if being pummeled a hundred times, I'm slowly losing consciousness.

I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I...

I notice the gleaming gun on lying on the ground. Bending over with much force, I grab the discarded gun, gasping for oxygen as my breaths turn more urgent and rapid. I need air, I need air, now.

With a sudden burst of resolve, I smash the butt of the gun onto the infected's head. A splintering crack sounds. He lets go and I kick him in the gut, my head feeling like it's been pulled through an ocean.

Another one charges towards me, but a bullet pierces its side before it can do any damage. It falls to the ground with a sick thud, and I take in a deep breath, noticing that I'd been holding my breath.

This is the ugliest massacre ever. I cringe at the spectacle in front of me, knowing this is going to scar me for life.

Suddenly, Jaeden shoots across the battlefield, almost getting himself killed, and picks someone... Methys up.

Is she hurt?

I find my legs moving even before I register what I am doing. My body has decided to take over since my brain seems to have slowed down.

Did someone shoot her? Did an infected take her down?

Oh sparks, is she infected?

Jaeden hoists Methys onto her back, but not the usual way at all. Her head is dangling towards the ground, her feet near his shoulders.

Methys slips from Jaeden's back, her eyes wide open in fear. Seriously, Jaeden, girls are not to be held by their ankles. What do you think they are? Fish?

"Methys!" I call.  She turns her head, and I see relief flood her face, although she is upside down and looks pretty hilarious amidst this whole battle that could kill me anytime.

I feel something that makes me want to go to Jaeden and say 'Ha! See how happy she is to see me!' rise in me but I shake my head to myself and my eyes widen.

I barely have enough time to turn back before I see the glint of shiny metal. I sprint towards Methys and shove her out of the way, and hear her gasp. I immediately put up my arm to cover my chest.

A arm wound will at least easier to deal with than a-

Pain ricochetes through me as Jaeden pulled the trigger of his Glock-18, a scowl on his face. White-hot pain blasts from my arm, a fire that spreads to my shoulders, and then down my body. I grunt, muttering a colorful curse underneath my breath, one that Rose would definitely be proud to hear me say.

I know that I should never have trusted him. Staggering back, I clutch my bicep which he hit, hissing. My knees buckling, I stumble backwards and hit a brick wall. With a loud grunt, I drop onto the ground, my knees scraping the rough asphalt.

My vision swims, and I struggle to keep myself conscious. Methys kneels at my side, her hands on my shoulders, her concerned face the only thing I see, apart from my blackening vision.

Too bad, Jaeden, I think, if you want to hurt my Methys, you have got to get past me first.

I tell Meth that I will be fine through gritted teeth, but I know none of us really think that.

It's a war out here, and it used to be us against the infected.

But now, I'm starting to think that even the human race can't be trusted at all.