The burning was so unbearable that it caused a kind of drought across your throat. The desire to scratch stuck to your throat, your lungs felt like they were too big and about to collapse at the same time.

Frozen with fear, you were still lying on your stomach, your fingers clawed into the wood of the rifle so hard that your nails bent and broke. It would leave marks in the wood. Maybe one day someone would find the rifle and wonder who it had once served.

Clicking filled the tense silence. It was enough to make you feel like a blade was being drawn across your body. As if something was digging into your flesh, separating skin and causing blood to flow.

Your head became lighter. The world began to spin and nausea crept up your throat. You had to breathe, you had to. Otherwise your death would be more stupidity than tragedy.

The burning grew to a dull throbbing. Your eyes rolled back and a soft gasp squeezed between your lips. The head of the clicker twitched.

Soft noises tinkled, filling the tense silence. It was like sounds digging into your flesh, gripping the madness and playing with it.

The tension broke and finally you couldn't help but take a shuddering breath. Nausea constricted your throat.

Saliva dripped from the clicker's wide open mouth. Spores filled the air. Pressing a hand over your mouth and nose, you tried not to inhale, which could be just as dangerous as a bite.

Both were unpleasant. Both would mean death.

Your eyes darted hastily around the mall.

Where was Ellie?

And why the hell did you feel like her presence could sweeten your end?

The clicker was only a few steps away, standing directly between you and the ladder that could bring you back to the ground. A jump would break all your bones. And in a world like this, broken legs were just as much a death sentence as a bite.

Once again, your heart stopped in your chest as you could feel small marks on your clothes. It felt like sand, rough and scratchy. Your eyes closed and a shaky breath left your lips.

You didn't want to see it end.

But just as the clicker had caught your scent, its crooked legs stumbling towards you, a gasp suddenly sounded a few paces from your shoulder. Irritated, the clicker jerked its head round.

Your eyes popped open. Confusion mingled with fear.

Ellie was standing on the edge of the roof, covered in sweat. She had pulled herself up with her bare hands and had somehow remained undetected. Now she drew her bow and aimed an arrow at the infected man.

Goose bumps crawled up your arms.

Attracted by the sound, the clicker changed direction and rushed towards Ellie. She barely had time to cock the arrow. Panicked, your mind searched for a solution.

"Ellie!", you gasped.

Again the clicker jerked its head round and returned to pounce. This time Ellie knew what she had to do. She drew the bow with all her strength, two fingers holding the arrow, and fired.

With a whirring hiss, the arrow whizzed through the air, severing sound and bridging the distance between you. Blood spurted as the point pierced the infected's head.

Screaming, it threw its head back, wrenching its arms in the air like a human trying to get rid of the disturbing thing.

In seconds you reached for your rifle and fired a shot.

The clicker collapsed. Blood and dirty tissue scattered across the floor at your feet. Trembling, you clutched the weapon. Your breath still hitched. It felt like air wasn't enough. You needed to fill your lungs with something purer, more.

Ellie stood in the corner, panting. She still held the bows high even though no arrows were strung.

"Wash off the spurs!", she finally said. "Now! And don't breathe in."

You looked down at yourself, irritated. Your jeans were covered in a thin film of dust. The light from the sun made it shimmer green.

Spores.

It was everywhere, sticking to your clothes, your (S/C) arms, hanging in your (H/C) hair. You could even feel it on your lips. The urge to lick it off spread through you.

Instead, you held your breath and spat on the floor. Then you jumped up, your eyes desperately searching for a source of water, and without thinking you leapt off the roof of the small shop.

A sharp pain shot through your ankles as you hit the ground hard. Air burned in your lungs but you didn't dare breathe in.

Undeterred, you hurried on and plunged into the nearest fountain, at the bottom of which there was still some water from the old days. Algae clung to your face as you scrubbed your hands through your skin and hair.

It was hard to get rid of the spores but as long as they were wet it made them harmless for a while. There would be enough time to change your clothes.

Panting, you lifted your head out of the water, hair sticking wetly to your forehead, water dripping in long threads between your eyes and making a soft splashing sound.

For a moment your whole body trembled, then the sleep of your heart calmed and you could breathe again. A deep sigh lifted all the weight from your shoulders as you closed your eyes and let your forehead fall against the cold stone of the well.

The muffled sound of someone jumping on the ground reached your ears. You ignored it, after all, it could only be Ellie. Quick footsteps approached. Suddenly a hand grabbed you roughly by the collar, yanked you round and forced you to look up into an angry face.

"You said you got them all!", Ellie hissed through bared teeth.

Tired, you clasped her wrists. With a little pressure, you gave her a silent warning.

"That's why I did a second round, didn't I?", you defended yourself. "In case some fell through the slats."

"You should have been fucking careful!"

"Shit, Ellie, get over yourself!", you push her off you, annoyed.

Still wobbly on her feet, she stumbled back, her fists clenched. She'd fight you with her bare hands too. But you had no patience left for that.

"Piss yourself as long as you want...", panting, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. "Go. Or stay. I don't care. But I have to... check on Pa..."