Standing just outside the door, I double-checked that the safety was off, and took a deep breath. I'd told Shane I could do this, so I would. I refused to be that girl who always needed someone else to protect her, or who couldn't do anything for herself.

I used my foot to push the door completely open and walked in slowly, holding the gun in both hands, the way I'd been taught.

I edged into the room, but couldn't immediately find the body. My heart was thudding heavily in my chest and my mouth was dry. I couldn't decide if I was scared of finding a dead body, or scared that it might get up and come after me.

When I finally glimpsed it behind the kitchen counter, I decided it had to be the second one.

I'd seen dead bodies before. I'd had to do autopsies for anatomy class when I was in school. The death of other people wasn't what scared me.

What scared me was how immediate and intimate death had suddenly become.

The only difference to other bodies I'd seen was that this body was slightly bloated, and I could see where it must have been standing when Kyle shot it. Blood and what might have been brain and bits of skull were sprayed across some of the cabinets, and I could see a bullet hole in one of the nearby walls.

I knelt down, then gagged slightly when I realized I'd have to touch the body, rolling it over so I could see its face. I didn't want to touch the body more than I had to, so I quickly examined its arms and legs, looking for bites there. Then I checked its stomach and shoulders.

Looking at it, I couldn't even find any scratches. My stomach sank at what that probably meant. I mean, aside from the bullet hole in its head, the body was in pretty good condition.

Later we learned that not everyone is infected. Everyone turns with a bite, but it's hit or miss about whether or not you turn if you die of anything else.

The draw back to that, even though you'd think it'd be great to not be infected, is that it makes you more susceptible to getting sick from scratches or zombie blood. That's why I think Shane, Kyle and myself are all probably infected. If not, we should have died a long time ago from exposure to the blood.

In that moment, I was suddenly hit with a jolt of guilt that I was already thinking 'it' instead of 'she'.

Going back to my examination of the body, my heart sank even further when I saw the vomit stains on her shirt.

I tried to estimate how long she'd been dead. Or, well, dead the first time. It was difficult because the body didn't look or smell all that old and it wasn't stiff, but there was already bloating.

I stood up and looked around before going into the bathroom. What I found there confirmed my suspicions and I left the apartment as quickly as I could, certain I would be sick if I stayed any longer.

I paused outside of Shane's apartment, and took several deep breaths. I needed to be in control when I walked through that door. Both Shane and Kyle would be expecting answers, and I needed to be able to give them.

When I was pretty sure I wouldn't immediately lose it, I opened the door, and Kyle stood from where he'd been sitting in the recliner. He opened his mouth, but stopped when Shane raised his hand. I came into the room and sat on the coffee table, checking the ice on Shane's ankle before I looked at him.

His eyes were cool and distant, face calm as he waited for me to speak. There was no concern as he looked at me.

I know that seems cold, but it was what I needed.

If he'd looked at me with any kind of concern, I would have thought that there was something to be concerned about, and completely lost it. Shane keeping it together helped me keep it together.

I wondered if that was a Marine thing, or just a Shane thing.

Taking another deep breath, I said, "I think she died some time last night, but it was kind of difficult to tell. The body was bloated but it was too soon for that. If anything it should be in rigor."

Kyle sat back down and a small divot appeared between his eyebrows as he thought. "Do you think the virus sort of changes the stages? It would be kind of hard to walk around if your dead body is all stiff and locked up like in rigor mortis."

I paused, thinking. "Maybe," I allowed. "Hopefully that means they decompose faster."

Of course, now we know that isn't the case. Now we know that the virus or whatever it is actually helps preserve the body. Slows down decomposition.

Makes sense, I guess. The virus wants to stay fed. That's kind of hard to do when the host is falling apart.

They are kind of fragile though. Hit them hard enough and they burst like pinatas. A virus can only do so much to get in the way of nature, you know?

Shane shifted, catching my attention before asking the question I'd actually wanted to avoid. "How did she die if she wasn't bit?"

I looked away from him, my eyes going to the blood still drying on the couch. With another deep breath I said, "I think she killed herself. It looked like she'd asphyxiated on her own vomit, and I found an empty bottle of anti-depression medication in her bathroom. It had been a new prescription. She'd just gotten it filled."

I looked at Shane to find a mixture of incomprehension and shock on his face. "Why," Shane paused, blowing out a sharp breath, "why would she do that?"

I shrugged. I didn't know why any more than Shane did. I watched as he continued struggling with this, like he was trying his hardest to understand.

I didn't think he was going to succeed though. For a guy like Shane, something like that wasn't a viable option. He realized that failure wasn't something that was final, but giving up completely was a foreign concept to him. It was something that he would never be able to do, and he couldn't understand why surrender was an option for anyone.

Even at the end of the world.

We both looked over when Kyle said, "She was alone. Her husband was just deployed."

Shane frowned, apparently still struggling to understand. "How do you know that?"

Kyle shrugged. "I ran into her at the front door once and she told me when she introduced herself."

We were all silent then, and suddenly I knew I couldn't sit here and talk about this anymore. Jumping up, I said, "Can I use your shower?"

Shane looked up at me, blinking in surprise. Slowly he nodded and said, "Sure. It's at the end of the hallway. There's clean towels on the shelves in there."

I mouthed the word 'thanks' before retreating down the hall. Grabbing my bag from Shane's room, I checked that everything was in there, then went down the short hall and locked myself in the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes and groaned when I realized the only thing I had to change into was the dress pants and button down shirt I'd worn yesterday to work.

I was starting to shiver, so I grabbed the soap and shampoo I kept with me and stepped into the shower, turning on the water.

When it came out lukewarm, I shuddered harder, but thought I should be grateful that we had any running water at all. I used the soap to scrub at my hands, trying to get rid of the sensation of dead flesh on my skin.

I started crying when I started washing my hair. Not big sobs or anything. At first I didn't realize that I was crying, thinking it was just the water from the shower.

I stood there, tears just running down my face. I wasn't even really sure what I was crying about. I didn't know if it was the woman upstairs or the body in the apartment or just because the world was ending.

After that, I think I've cried maybe a handful of times since then throughout everything I've seen.

Tears don't really do anything, you know?

I turned off the water and stood there for a moment, just dripping water. I started shivering harder and had to sit on the shower floor before I fell.

I kept wondering if I would have ended up like that woman if Shane hadn't invited me here.

The more I thought about it, the more I could understand why she had taken a way out. To be honest that kind of freaked me out, and I wished that I could have that complete lack of understanding like Shane.

Because if I could understand it, maybe that meant eventually I'd be willing to consider it an option. And that felt weak to me. Selfish. And I didn't like that feeling.

I mean, for all intents and purposes, I had been just as alone as she had been. My parents and I didn't exactly see eye to eye, and I didn't have any siblings or other family to go looking for.

I wondered if I would have been as hopeless as she had been.