2:15 P.M.

Foster Residence

Angie Foster

______________________

"Please," Angie begs after a long silence. "Say something."

Adam stays quiet, his expression attempting to hide feelings of betrayal and shock. From the first minute that Angie had started explaining everything from the beginning, the boy started to shut down. He had asked for the truth, and Angie had provided. 

"I...," Adam begins. "I don't know what to say. Should I thank you or something?"

Her brother's tone contained hints of anger, yet he was keeping a cool head about the information dumped on him.

"You don't have to do anything," Angie shakes her head. "I'm so sorry Adam. For all of the lies and secrets I've kept from you. It was all to keep you safe. I would've told you if--" 

"Just stop," Adam interrupts her. "I believe you, I'm just a bit overwhelmed." 

"Ok, ok, I'm done," She puts a reassuring hand on Adam's shoulder. To her surprise, Adam shrugs it off. 

"I'm going back to my room for a bit," Adam mutters as he turns back towards the door. "Thanks for the food."

Without waiting for a response from his sister, Adam closes the door and Angie is left in silence. She knew that the truth would be hard to tell, and even harder for Adam to receive. That didn't stop the guilt. It had been creeping in slowly throughout the past couple of years, but at that moment, the full weight seemed to crash down on Angie. She quietly descends the staircase to the ground floor as her eyes begin to water slightly. There had never been a secret kept between them. 

He just needs time.

Angie walks over to a window near the front doors of their house. Peering out, she surveys the surrounding neighborhood. Probably for the hundredth time today. In the street, there were two figures shambling around aimlessly. Angie noticed that another infected had entered their street. One of the fast ones. It seemed to be twitching slightly, as if energy was being stockpiled, before bursting into a sprint towards any noise or movement it heard. 

Those are the ones we better keep an eye out for.

Angie reasoned a day earlier that firearms wouldn't be the most efficient method to deal with any encounters with the infected, as the noise produced may very well attract more to their home. In place of this, Angie had scoured the garage for melee weapons, managing to find a couple of metal bats, a hatchet, and a sledgehammer. She had no clue why her parents had these items, but wasn't in the mood to question the past.

The screams had died down, for the most part, a day after the outbreak. Those that survived the initial chaos were most likely in hiding, barricading themselves within their homes if they had any intelligence. Angie didn't want to think about the horrors that existed beyond the walls of their home. The families destroyed. The innocent lives lost. How the world had been turned completely upside down in a matter of hours. Angie felt a little less guilty when she realized that her own iPhone had refused to turn on. The Siren must have caused this. Landlines were dead as well. The radio that Angie kept attached to her belt was working miraculously, yet she still hadn't been able to pick up anything through it. 

She hears tires screeching, and quickly returns to the window. A truck races down their street, slamming into one of the infected. The body goes flying into the air. Just as the truck is almost out of view, Angie watches with surprise as the fast corpse manages to leap into the air and latch onto the truck, holding on to the side of the truck bed. The truck exits her view, taking the infected individual with it. 

One less problem for us, I suppose.

Angie surveys the street for another minute, before walking towards the kitchen. She picks up the half-empty water bottle on the kitchen counter, and takes sips sparingly. As she screws the lid back on, Angie looks out to the backyard in time to witness two figures climb over their fence and into the yard. She ducks down behind the counter as they look towards the house. Seconds pass and Angie hears approaching footsteps on the wooden deck outside. She weighs her options. 

Angie had placed the weapons from the garage in the living room, but to get there she would have to make a move in full view of the back door. Whoever was outside would see her, and who knows what would happen then.

Her heart begins to pound rapidly, beads of sweat forming on her forehead from the heat of the house and her own nerves. The doorknob rattles quietly.

"Locked."

Angie hears a woman's voice outside the door hiss in frustration. 

"I don't want us to cause more noise, let's check another house."

The footsteps recede, and Angie breathes a sigh of relief as she allows herself to slump against the counter. She doubted that this would be the first instance of looters trying their luck on their home. Angie glances around the side of the counter and observes that the backyard is clear again. 

Welcome to the new world.