it was right that we did meet each other in each other's eyes
it was right that we did see each other in our shadow sides
-Emma Ruth Rundle, Marked for Death

Dan

The morning brings a chilly breeze that has my skin prickling with goosebumps and painfully bright sunlight that snaps me out of my stupor, making me squint viciously. My sleep, as predicted, had not been easy and I ended up spending the remainder of the night lying with my blanket bunched around me, drifting in and out of consciousness.
I refuse to fall asleep anymore. The painful dreams and memories are becoming unbearable and I'd rather battle fatigue than suffer through them, never feeling refreshed when I wake up. I'll stay up every night if I have to, at this point it's practically a way of life.

I know there's a reason the nightmares started. My mind has certainly endured all sorts of trauma, the list so long that trying to read and make sense of it would make any reasonably sane person's brain hurt. Whether I'm reasonably sane or not is not something I'm up to debate, and there's certainly lots to choose from when reflecting on how I could have ever gotten to this point.

Take for instance, the fact that I never got to say goodbye to my brother and parents. I was with Phil when the zombies took over, I'll never know what happened to them. I'll never truly have closure. Or take the fact that, as last night's dream so kindly refreshed for me, I was nearly killed before anything even really got started. It's not even so much about how in this life nothing good ever comes easy, it's that practically nothing good ever happens, period.

The only thing about my entire life that has any worth to me are my two best friends. They're my one and only weakness, and conveniently enough, the most vulnerable part of my existence. To others I might appear cold or emotionally inept, but the truth is I just stopped feeling a long time ago. I prefer to choose my happiness, break down situations into manageable until life makes sense. I can pretend that I'm willing to get along with these people who seem to unofficially be our allies now, but I don't trust any one of them.

Except maybe Marzia, but she comes with the attachment of Felix and he has yet to earn my respect. I'll take my time with him, willing to give him a chance for safety's sake, but if he or any of the others endanger Phil, I won't hesitate. I'll kill them.

Speaking of Phil, where is he?

My eyes are still a little blurry visioned from being blasted by light after being closed so long but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's not there. His comforters are splayed out on the ground next to me in a way that is completely the opposite of tidy, in a totally typical Phil fashion that suggests he didn't bother to straighten them out, just clumsily rolled his way out of bed. I'm already in an unhappy mood and this does nothing to fix it, I'm now in addition to that just furious that he's left me.

Why, though? I realize suddenly, Why do I even care? Last night I'd been so embarrassed about my atypical crying that I couldn't wait to get away from him. As soon as I do encounter him it's going to be a long and unbearable checkup on my emotions, and I'm hardly looking forward to dealing with that.

But at the same time, I'm concerned that he would leave me alone in this part of the campsite, going off to socialize with the people I don't trust. Actually I'm now feeling distinctly awkward without him here because it means I'll have to leave the shelter of the willow alone. What could he possibly have gone off to do?

That must be the problem. I just don't like enduring this place by myself. I know he couldn't have gone far because the clearing's not that big, that as soon as I get out I'm probably gonna run into him. No big deal. I tell myself this as I harden my resolve, choosing to nurture the grumpiness rather than tuck it away. It's easier, and no one's going to give a shit one way or the other. My stomach grumbles loudly as I suddenly realize my hunger, causing me to sigh and then fling off my blankets, gritting my teeth as the cold air rushes in. I stretch and then move to a standing position, brushing off the dirt on my jeans and straightening my sweater.

As I push aside the hanging willow branches and step out into the clearing I take a deep breath, shaking off the lingering tiredness and moving to scan the area. I'm guessing Felix and PJ will be asleep after taking the second half of the watch but I also know full well that everyone else probably slept fine. That means my friends and Marzia will be up and moving, but it also includes Mark as well. Fantastic.

I see smoke rising from the firepit and smell the the tempting aroma of what must be our breakfast. There's three figures gathered around the flames, sitting on chunks of chopped log and waiting eagerly for the food to be done. A fourth figure is rummaging around under the overhang next to Felix and PJ's sleeping forms, stuffing necessities into what looks like a series of backpacks. I catch sight of the latter's telltale red/black hair and make sure to steer clear of that area, walking instead reluctantly towards the firepit.

I'm about fifty metres away when one of the three people, Cat, catches sight of me and waves, grinning broadly and shouting out to greet me.

"Morning, Dan! Come sit down, we're having breakfast!"

I lift my hand in response but don't smile back, my wandering eyes making contact with Phil's bright blue ones.

He immediately shoots me a look and leans sideways, murmuring something to Cat and Marzia, who he's been sitting with. I stop short and fold my arms, eyeing him as they nod in acknowledgment of his words. Whatever he's saying to them, it's probably related to me. My suspicions are confirmed when their gazes flicker over to where I'm standing, then quickly away. He mutters one last thing and then jumps up, sticking his hands in his pockets and striding over to me purposefully. I don't move, just wait for him where I'm rooted and let him take his time.

"Hey, Danny" he says in a surprisingly approachable voice. I thought he'd be irritable, since that's how I'm feeling, and also the fact that he'd initially approached me with such an urgency. "You slept in a while, is everything okay?"
He finally makes it over to where I am, glancing at me with some concern in his eyes and taking in my tired features.

I look up at him from where my arms are folded and then glance back at Cat and Marzia, who are trying to be subtle but are clearly staring. I raise my eyebrows at them until they pointedly look away and then turn back to him, trying not to be rude but I'm really not happy at the moment.

"I'm fine, honestly. And don't call me Danny. My dignity's already damaged enough." I reply flatly.

He seems taken aback by this and quickly lowers his voice to a much quieter tone, speaking so that nobody overhears us.

"Look, can we go for a walk?" he asks quickly, his eyes darting back to the fire but only for a moment. "We both know that's not true and I have to tell you something. Mark found a camp when he was wandering around last night and he thinks there might be other survivors. He wants us to help him and Marzia check it out." He raises his eyebrows and waits for my reply, closing his hand gently around one of my wrists.

"What do you mean, 'other survivors?' I ask quietly, and he just shakes his head, indicating that now is not the time.

"I don't want talk to you while we're around them." He mutters. "Are we going or not?"

"What, do I have a disease?" I ask, somewhat affronted by this blatant honesty, yanking my wrist out of his grip. "Why can't you just tell me over breakfast? I'm hungry."

His eyes widen and he backtracks quickly. "No! That's not what I meant!" He exclaims, then leans in close to my ear, voice going serious again. "What I mean is, I don't want them hearing what we're talking about. I want to talk to just you."

I fall silent in realization and despite myself feel my anger dissipating. I try desperately to hold onto it, not wanting him to think I cave that easily.

Oh.

He wants to talk to me, and only me. I don't know why that causes heat to rise in my cheeks but it does. I turn, abruptly looking away so he doesn't see it.

"Well... what if I don't want to go for a walk out there?" I protest. "There's still zombies and they could be anywhere, I think we'd be kind of wasting our safety for the sake of a conversation.  I think it would've helped if they gave back our axe and crowbar."

He considers this, fiddling with his fingers and trying really hard not to hold on to my arm again. It's mildly amusing, how worried he is that I'll just take off on him. Where am I gonna go, under the overhang to chill with my good buddy Mark? We're stuck with each other, like it or not, but I'll let him think that I don't want him to make contact with me. It'll be my small, petty revenge for being ditched so early in the morning. I even retract my fingers to keep him away from me, feeling a little guilty at his expression of confusion.

"I...asked if we could have them back, actually." He informs me, and I look up, hopeful that I'll have some mean of defence again.

"And what did they say?" I prod him impatiently. "who did you ask?"

"Mark and Marzia," he replies. "Mark said no but Marzia persuaded him. I think he still thinks we're gonna murder them all while they're sleeping. He says he'll give them back to us one one condition: that we join the two of them when they scout."

I roll my eyes, so beyond done with that asshole. "He has to make an effort with us if he wants our respect, or mine anyway. Why does he even want us coming along, if he hates us that much?"

"Dunno. " he muses. "Guess it's just that the other two are sleeping and he doesn't want us all together at the camp while he's gone."

"Wants a couple of meat shields, more like." I mutter, "if things happen to go wrong."

Phil snorts at this, clapping a hand over his mouth so the others don't hear it. He glances up at me with a glowing approval, still chuckling a little when he straightens up again. The look on my face must be all sorts of surprised confusion and he hurries to clarify, not masking his smile, "There's definitely two types of people in the world," he breathes, his brows quirking up in a cheeky expression, "ones that think like I do, and you."

I punch him in the arm, my expression stony despite the insistent urge to laugh too. Phil just has such a bright, cheery face and inviting smile. It's irritatingly contagious, I do not want to give him the satisfaction of making me grin when I don't want to.

"Shut up," I huff, hoping to glean some reaction but there's no stopping him now that his mood's gotten going. It's strange, the way he reacts to me like I'm really something wonderful. Anyone else would be upset by my consistent lack of effort to be likeable, but he always genuinely seems to be happier when I'm around. Sure, we're close friends but I just don't get it. I'm being a dick on purpose, and he's just laughing like I'm the best part of the day. I'll never understand him. Maybe this is part of that whole thing Marzia explained to me, I don't know.

"Anyway, I'm not going on a walk." I continue seriously, and I see his expression falter a little bit at my words. "Nothing against you or anything, I'm just really hungry right now  and if you really want me to be cheerier, you'll let your mate eat."

He looks like wants to say something else so I break my own boundaries, stepping forward and nudging him lightly with my elbow.

"I'm okay, honestly." I stare at him purposefully, and when he lowers his gaze I forcefully grab at his chin, tilting his head up to look right at me. "I feel a lot better after talking to you last night. You don't have to worry yourself about my emotional state. Stop it right now."

"But... " his eyes are wide, startled by my hand holding his head in place. "I want to ask you about the scouting with Mark thing and-"

"-I say we just do it," I break in, hurrying on before he can counter me. "It's not like there's anything else to do and besides, we'll get our stuff back. If anything goes bad, we run for it. No questions asked. We don't owe him anything. Just make sure you stay close to me and it won't be a problem."

"That's not all I wanted to say though, we need to decide where we're going from here," he protests, referring to our weird new alliance and the potential change in lifestyle.

"We'll have lots of time to talk on the way to the camp." I say flatly. "Mark's gonna walk far away from us anyway, and yeah, maybe she likes us now, but I'll bet you Marzia's gonna stick with him." I let go of Phil and turn with finality, stepping forward to make my way towards the fire. "Come on, Philly." I jab sarcastically, "We're gonna go eat."

He lets out a sound of protest, clumsily scrambling forward to fall in step beside me.
"So why do you get to call me 'Philly' but I don't get to call you 'Danny'?" He whines. "How is that in any way fair? Where's the justice for Phil Lester in this day and age?"

"Nothing in life is fair, Philly. Part of being a grownup, get over it." I reply, speeding up to purposefully abandon him.

"I'm getting a new friend," he mutters, "this one says no to me too much."

"Not my problem." I say dismissively, then quickly snap my mouth shut as we wander within hearing range of the girls again, eyeing the seat nearest to the fire where I can warm my hands. I nod in acknowledgment at Cat and Marzia as I brush past, going to sit down and eyeing the pot of food and stack of bowls laid out, noting that we're having some kind of soup.

Moments later Phil settles down next to me without a word and the conversation between him and them continues, discussing the day's plans. I ladle out some soup into a bowl and pointedly ignore them, lost in thought about our current situation.
It's not until Marzia calls my name out multiple times that I even hear her, and I jerk my head up with a little too much surprise to properly be unnoticeable. I spill a decent amount of soup onto my jeans and wince at the heat of it, but nobody makes a comment.

"So what do you think, Dan? Would you be willing to come?" She asks me.

I wonder what she means and then realize that she's talking about investigating the survivor camp, and I take it as s good opportunity to ask more in-depth questions, glancing surreptitiously at Cat and Phil.

"How far away is it? Are we gonna have to take some long hike and then just walk right in?" I ask her. "How is this working?"

"Mark says he didn't actually see the people in the camp he found." She tells me. "He just heard them and saw their fires. He didn't want to get any closer without some backup in case there's trouble, and from what I've heard I think it's about an hour's journey."

She smiles at me gently and it's clear the look is meant to stay between the two of us, making me wonder if I haven't just made a massive mistake last night. If she's trying to reassure me that means she trusts me and I'm not sure if that's good.

"We're gonna want to be extra cautious, we're doing basically what Mark originally thought you guys were out to do, except without the killing for supplies part. We're staking out the area, seeing what kind of people they are. Making sure they aren't dangerous, especially since they live so close to our camp."

I nod thoughtfully and think it over in my mind, knowing that she's unaware that we already plan on going. I just want to know all the details so that Phil and I aren't venturing into this completely in the dark. A small part of my mind is telling me it's all a trick and this is just their way of getting rid of us. But if that were true, they wouldn't only send out two people, or leave Cat behind in their camp. I try to shake my paranoia, wanting to trust this woman who's been kind to me so far.

"How have you guys never noticed this other camp before?" Phil pipes up, "I thought you've lived here a long time. Surely you know the entire area?"

She nods and shrugs her shoulders, making it clear she's as dubious as we are. "It must be fairly new. It's centered around this little pond in the forest and Mark says he's never seen inhabitants near it before. I can't say I have either, you can't help but find that a little strange."

I quietly spoon soup into my mouth, mulling it all over as Phil and Cat "mhm" in agreement. I see Mark out of the corner of my eye hoisting several backpacks over his shoulder, apparently done with whatever stocking task he was doing and now preparing to join our group, much to my displeasure.

"What do we do if you guys aren't back by midnight?" Cat inquires tentatively, staring in concern between Phil and I. "These two here are my best buddies, I don't want them getting hurt because I'm not there to help them."

Phil reaches over and sets a hand on her shoulder, smiling reassuringly. I watch as like clockwork she relaxes, vaguely conscious of the familiar effect Phil has on people.

"Cat, we're just looking at the camp, we're not actually interacting with anyone." He says gently. "If we take more than a day it's just because we're bunking somewhere else for the night. If we're not back by morning you can gang up with Felix and PJ and meet us wherever we're at. They know where it is, we'll come find you."

Cat doesn't look convinced. Marzia is quick to support him, giving her a meaningful look.

"He's right. I promise I'll take good care of them, not that they really need it. Besides, you don't see any survivors standing a chance against Mark, do you?"

She smiles weakly as Mark enters our field of vision, dropping the packs down with a thump and settling himself on a log far from Phil and I, his expression full of purpose.

He's obviously completely expectant that we are coming along, seeing how there's four well-stocked backpacks. Even though that's the plan anyway, I'm still irritated that he's really not giving us a choice. I stare emotionlessly at him, never again willing to get noticeably mad or raise my voice. That's just what he'd enjoy the most, and I am not going to give him that satisfaction.

I ignore his irritable look and redirect my gaze, raising the corners of my mouth to form a rare smile for Cat. "Maybe there'll be other girls there, you can find yourself a third buddy to make up for us." I joke softly, and she grins at me, arms twitching for want to give me a hug. She's the touchiest person I've ever known, way too affectionate for someone who's as reserved as me. I think she's just more upset that we're going without her, but they want someone conscious to watch over the camp, and an invulnerable half zombie is a great choice to stand guard while everyone else is travelling or asleep. I keep this in mind even as the guilt seeps in. I sometimes wonder if Phil and I make her feel a little left out. She's an important part of our little unorthodox family, and it does feel weird to prepare to go somewhere without her.

"We'll be back by the end of the day most likely." Marzia continues, extending her arm to take the backpack Mark hands her. "At the latest we'll be back tomorrow morning, depending on the daylight and whether we run into anything."

"Speaking of daylight," Mark interrupts, "we're wasting a lot of it right now. Finish eating your breakfast. I don't want us to have to stay somewhere for the night."

"Ah, it's not even noon yet," Phil murmurs quietly. "We do have time."

"Not nearly enough of it." Mark snaps shortly. "I take it you're coming then."

He stares out coolly, eyeing me with a calculated stare. I bristle at his tone towards my best friend and move to stand up, being stopped in place as Phil gently places a warning hand across my chest, his blue eyes piercing the the darker browns of the man opposite us. I can't understand how he's so absolutely calm. He doesn't even look annoyed, just confident and unintimidated.

"Yes. We are." Phil answers. "You are going to give us our weapons back, right? Otherwise, we're going to be fairly helpless."

I grit my teeth and sit back down, finishing off the last of my soup and setting the bowl down with a slightly aggressive thunk. It's better that I'm taking my stress out on inanimate objects, otherwise this guy would be getting punched in the face for disrespecting Phil. He nods firmly, not wavering under Phil's pointed gaze.

"That's what I said, isn't it? Ten minutes, then we're going. And Marzia," he adds pointedly, getting up and spooning himself some soup, addressing his friend with a voice full of purpose, "Make sure you have enough ammunition for your gun. We don't want a repeat of the Brighton incident."

I have no idea what this means and I probably never will, a piece of a shared history we know nothing about. It sounds really rude anyway but Marzia just laughs at him, pulling the weapon out and pointing it at him dramatically.

"Oh, don't worry," she says mock-breezily, "I'm not making that mistake twice."

He gets up with the bowl in hand and starts walking away from the firepit, not even taking it as a threat. He shoots a look at her over his shoulder. "Better not." He mutters, and she smirks at his retreating back.

It's the closest thing to friendship that I've seen Mark demonstrate yet. It's not companionable, but it does show something beyond just irritation.

"I'm gonna check that everything's in order one last time and then I'm coming back for you." He says loudly, turning his head back to face the area in front of him. "Be ready by then." She assures him that we already are and then settles back in a comfortable position, quietly eating her breakfast and staring into the fire.

"Don't mind him." She assures us, not unkindly. She sounds so sure of herself, and I want to know what he's done to have her trust him that completely. "He really is a good person. Just a little misunderstood."

"Like you, Dan." Cat whispers softly, catching me off guard. I whip around to face her, scarcely daring to believe what I've heard.

"What did you say?" I ask loudly, my eyes boring into her incredulously.

"Nothing." She says instantly, but she doesn't meet my eyes. Phil sighs softly and I huff in annoyance, folding my arms against my chest and looking away. The remainder of the meal is carried out in silence, though my mind is talking loudly enough to fill an entire room. I will not be compared to Mark, we really aren't alike at all.

We aren't.

~~~

Ten minutes later, we've gotten ourselves assembled and are in the process of shouldering our backpacks. They're nice and lightweight, a quick peek inside revealing the contents to be a bottle of water, a cluster of dried meat strips tied together with string, a cloth bandage strip and a blanket; just survival essentials for the intent of a day trip.

I zip my pack closed and turn to face Phil, following his gaze that's looking in Marzia's direction. My crowbar feels comforting and balanced gripped in my hand again, the old assurance and security creeping back into my conscience at being reunited with my preferred weapon. We finally got our stuff back seeing how we agreed to come, I'm ready to fight anyone who tries to make us drop them again.

PJ is still dead to the world but Felix has gotten up temporarily to see us off, standing a several feet in front of us under the overhang and barely stifling a yawn. He's talking softly to Marzia who has a hand rested lightly on his chest, his one hand settled gently on the small of her back while she looks up at him.

They look so together, the two of them. An outsider looking in would never question the nature of their relationship or what it was, the blond man and copper-haired girl who look like they were constructed that way.

He says something that makes her smile and she laughs and leans forward, waiting a moment before pulling him forward and kissing him in a way that looks gentle and chaste, a motion repeated so many times it's familiar. He kisses her back and then they both look up, striding over to us as though this behaviour is the most natural thing in the world. It's so unlike anything I can immediately relate to and I feel the weird urge to hide my face, feeling so detached from the demonstration.

I feel my cheeks going red from awkwardness and have to look away, glancing at Phil to share my discomfort and frowning a little when I see him smiling softly at their gesture, apparently much more sentimental than me. So bizarre.

It would be easier if I'd ever been in love before but I can't honestly say that I have. Every time I thought there was something it turned out not to be real, usually just school stupidness or peer pressure to like somebody. True requited love is not yet within my comprehension, and it doesn't help that I don't even entirely understand who I am.

It doesn't matter if I liked girls or boys, something that always seemed like a huge issue back at school whenever my peers mentioned it. Either way allowing yourself to love creates a major vulnerability, and I've already told myself many times over I just can't take that. The universe would have a hell of a time finding me a soulmate, especially now. I probably wouldn't even have one if such a thing existed, I'm so bad at affection. So I just settle for confusion and ignorance, choosing not to think about it at all.

What good will it do in this world anyway? Nothing that I can think of. Nothing that will help me stay alive.

In the present, I try to distract myself by focusing on the goodbye, accepting Felix's good-natured back slap and allowing Cat to squeeze me in a hug shortly after. After letting go she dives into Phil's arms and he squeezes her happily, the full comforting body-wrap hug that is his preference to my stiff bearing of one, saying something about seeing her tomorrow.

"See you guys, then, and good luck." Felix says with a grin, waving jauntily as he turns sleepily to go climb back into bed. Mark is standing by the gate impatiently, tapping his foot in a physical gesture to urge us to hurry it up, a gesture that does not go unnoticed by his friend.

"See ya, Markimoo!" Felix shouts over at him dramatically, causing him to flush angrily and Marzia to giggle, staring lovingly in her boyfriend's direction. It's time to go, and with the dismissals out of the way there's really no delaying it any longer.

We fall into step with each other and walk across the grounds to the gate, Phil naturally following my stride and Marzia already trailing slightly ahead. I take this as a good indication about how the rest of the day is gonna go and step carefully past Mark as he holds the gate open, forest smells filling my nostrils as I step out onto the trail.

I look back at the clearing one last time and raise my hand to wave at Cat, who waves back twice as eagerly and stares somewhat sadly at our retreating backs. The last thing is see is the glint of her silvery eyes before the gate swings shut, Mark lowering his arm and checking it, before turning around to face our little group.

"We're going this way," he declares, pointing left into an area that's a little more brush than path. "This is the way I went last night so I'm just retracing my steps. Try to keep up and stay quiet when you follow. I don't want anyone to notice we're around."

Like we're gonna be stomping through the forest like a pair of senseless, noisy idiots. Phil and I have survived just as long as he has for a reason and I so badly want to retort by telling him that, but I bite my tongue and stay silent, clenching my fists in silent anger.

He starts forward and we fall in behind him, ghosting his footsteps as he weaves through tree trunks and around patches of brush, seemingly sure of his direction while I'm feeling a little lost. I've already lost sight of the junk wall and the gate to the clearing, anywhere I go now is totally in their hands.

Now that the morning fog has burned off it's gradually getting warmer, the sun close to being directly overhead and beating down just enough that I'm slightly starting to sweat. I roll up my sweater sleeves and take a deep breath, plodding along silently as Mark and Marzia get a little further ahead of us, beginning to converse about some topic of conversation. We're slowly separating into our different worlds, not that I'm complaining about that. As long as Phil and I follow along at a reasonable pace we'll still be completely fine and able to talk without them hearing us, too wrapped up in their own interactions to bother with ours.

I think about what brought this walk about, Mark's anger driven storming off in the night on my account. I wonder what possessed him to walk this way and that far, how much a man would have to be pissed to travel such a distance in the dark when there's a risk of zombies. It doesn't matter whether the monsters are walkers or runners, the two types we've encountered since first seeing one almost a year ago, you don't willingly put yourself in their path if you don't have to, not unless you're stupid or you have a death wish.

Marzia had said to me before that him doing this is normal, but it still doesn't stop me from having some serious questions. I feel like trying to understand Mark is a waste of energy, and Cat apparently thinks this applies  to me as well. Whatever, at least I can admit it out loud. Better than stomping off to have a tantrum.

An hour of walking passes with little happening at all. I feel refreshed being able to wander through he forest, leaves rustling softly and my friends' ragged breathing filling in the gaps. There's no birdsong, which to me seems a little strange, but there's no telltale moaning noises to indicate zombies either.

Maybe it's a sign of the apocalypse but I've noticed that the longer the months wear on, the less and less I'm seeing or hearing any kind of animals. We used hear wolves howling at night or squirrels screeching during the day, but slowly those sounds disappeared, along with many others, too. We did have a bird of some kind as part of dinner last night, and I wonder when is the next time we'll ever do that again.

I'm still pondering this when suddenly there's a snap of branches and a yelp of alarm. I barely have time to react before a body slams into my side, clutching my sweater for support but forcing us both to hit the ground with an almighty crash as gravity wins over. I feel the wind knocked out of my lungs and for a second I can barely breathe,  I see Mark and Marzia whip around from where they're standing several paces ahead of me, looking startled. An arm is draped across my vision, flailing around on top of me.

"What the-?" I hiss, pain shooting through my shoulder. I'm okay, just a little shocked. My crowbar is gripped loosely in my hand. Any further to the left and I probably would have impaled whoever's landed on me. By the weight and smell of them, I can take a wild guess of who it is.

"Idiot!" I hear Mark hiss, "watch where you're going, do you want someone to hear us?!"

"Sorry, Dan!" I hear Phil saying worriedly, pushing himself off of me and grabbing my wrist to help me up. "I didn't even see anything in the way...what just happened?" It's then that I figure out what's going on, and I can't help but smirk even as Mark retorts angrily and my shoulder throbs dully.

"You tripped, and it doesn't matter if it was an accident or not. Be quiet or you'll get us all killed."

Phil is and has always been a very clumsy person. Surviving the apocalypse helped some because he was forced to hone his reflexes in various life or death situations, but it doesn't help that the curse is still very much there. He's prone to accidents, crashes, and falling. He'll go to give you a hug and end up accidentally elbowing you in the face. He's a bit of a hazard but still I'm somewhat angered that he's being blamed for a fall he couldn't control. It's not like he did it on purpose.

"What the bloody hell did you even trip over?" I ask, rubbing my sore limb and glancing around. The ground is actually pretty clear, there isn't much obstructing our way except tall ferns and tree trunks. I can't even see the area he tripped over because of all the leaves in the way. It's less like maneuvering and more like wading.

"Dunno." He mutters, standing up slowly and doubling back to retrace his footsteps. "My foot just...caught on something."

He pushes back the broad leaves with his hand extended carefully, peering into the thicket of stems.

"Nothing. I don't see anything, there's just a-" he suddenly chokes and dives back, the leaves snapping back into place with a whoosh. "Nope." He says shakily, surging forward and yanking me with, so that I'm dragged almost right past Marzia and Mark. "Nope. Nope. Nevermind."

"What is it, Phil?" Marzia asks concernedly, glancing at him while Mark rolls his eyes.

Phil shudders, looking down at himself as though he's dirty. "A dead creature of some kind." He answers, his inner animal lover making him a feel a little sick. "It was big, too. It looked like a wolf. I'd like to keep walking and imagine I didn't see that." He surges forward again with purpose, leaving the  animal, whatever it is, behind.

I speed up quickly to follow, not overly excited to know that first animal we've encountered in months is in fact dead. It's like the entire world is dying, it's just depressing to think about.

We end up slowing down and moving out of the way to let Mark take the lead again, being how he's the only one who knows where to find our destination. Marzia smiles back at us, looking quite lovely with her copper hair glinting in the sun. It's really hard not to trust a person so genuinely nice, but then again, Mark doesn't trust Phil. It's not as ridiculous as it seems.

I follow Mark's retreating back as quietly as possible, feeling less secure now that the silence has been shattered. Phil is stepping very carefully now, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. He only glances up to check on me periodically, still needing assurance that I'm there.

I feel like something in the air has shifted. I no longer feel like I'm hiking through the brush with companions, I've been reminded of what is really happening to this earth. Death. It's all around us and it's closing in, inevitably it'll reach me as well. It'll reach me and it'll reach my friends, one day I'll have to say goodbye to-

"Dan," Phil says quietly, touching a hand to my forearm and staring at me worriedly. "What's the matter? You've just gotten this look on your face, like you've thought of something terrible."

I consider brushing him off and telling him not to worry about it, not in the mood to have Mark on my back about being too loud. But it feels like an actual crisis, how inevitable our death could very well be at any time. He also looks far too invested to accept me doing that, so I grudgingly cave in.

"I have," I admit, my lowering my head to look at the ground.

He starts, surprised I think that I'm actually telling him something's wrong. With the exception of last night, that's how it always goes. He tentatively puts an arm around my shoulder, his voice lowering so that he's speaking gently.

"Whatever it is, try not to think about it. You know what happens when you let yourself sink into that." His tone is soft, he's speaking slow and reassuringly. I want to be annoyed but instead the sound visibly relaxes me.

He doesn't even know what's bothering me yet. He has no idea, but he still wants to be there to help. It motivates me to meet his gaze, and suddenly I can't help but let everything pour out to him, the fear weighing on my mind like an anchor.

"It's just, look at what this world's become, it's terrifying." I protest. "There's more zombies than humans now and even the animals are starting to vanish. We haven't seen other survivors anywhere. Felix and them are the first ones we've seen in months."

He considers this, lowering his hand back to loosely grasp my forearm but not dropping his gaze.

"Dan," he protests quietly, "we've known this for months. It's awful and it's horrible but it's never gotten to you before. Why are you thinking about this now?"

"You don't understand." I protest. "They're going to be everywhere. They're literally everywhere already. It's only matter of time before some mob's going to find us."

He still looks perplexed, and I drop my voice entirely, definitely not wanting our companions to hear the next continuation. I lean into his shoulder, my mouth close to his ear.

"Associating with these guys puts us in danger." I mutter darkly, but it is the truth. "We can't stay with them. We've lived far too long for you or any of us to be killed because of the ignorance of others. I can't relax when we're around them because I feel like they're threatening your safety."

His eyes widen and he gazes at me, shocked. "Don't say that, they'll hear you!" He exclaims in a whisper, glancing over at the two in question, Mark and Marzia.
"I thought you liked Marzia and PJ and Felix," he ventures, scrutinizing my expression."You've seen how tough they are, they're helping us out!"

I clench my fists, my expression cold and my words flat. "I like you a hell of a lot more. That's what this is really about, okay? It's about you. Who says they won't put a gun in your face again, when all of a sudden we don't let them get their way."

I start to walk a little faster just out of frustration and I know he doesn't know what to say to that, stumbling to keep pace with me.

There's a pause, in which Mark takes a sharp turn and leads us around a bend, and suddenly we're climbing up a cluster of large, round boulders.

Phil hoists himself up, releasing a sharp breath, but his focus redirects to me as soon as his foothold is steady.

"But say they don't. We can't leave them right now, there's no way we'll ever get away with that." He whispers.

"I don't mean right now," I mutter back. "I mean we're not staying around forever. I'm not risking our lives for theirs. We don't owe them that."

"Dan. Please don't worry about me. I can take care of myself and I'm here for you as long as I can help it. You have to remember I am the older one. By four years I'm the older one. It's funny how we both forget that."

"I do, sometimes." I say quietly. "I feel like I need to take care of you. I always forget my age."

"Hey!" Mark snaps sharply from somewhere above us. His voice is quiet, and I know now that we definitely need to shut up. Good timing actually, I can feel Phil wanting to counter me.

"We're here." He announces. "Climb down the rock face and then follow my lead. Something seems funny. We need to check out the camp and then get the hell out of here."

Everyone goes completely silent as we creep down the face, eyes on the circle of trees ahead. I hear snippets of different voices and smell a bonfire, but the camp is not yet visible. The closer  we get to the area, the more distinctively I can pick out sounds, and the more uneasy I get. Because these people, they don't exactly sound...sane.

There's a lot of shouting and yelping, like a bunch of rabid dogs. There's people cackling with laughter, a few are even singing. By the sounds of it, there has to be over two dozen of them, and they sound completely mad.

Mark shoots us all uneasy look as we finally hit the ground, gathering behind a thicket of cedars and peering through the shrubby leaves.

This is no ordinary camp.

My previous worries are completely forgotten as I scan the area, hardly computing what I see.

There are a lot of people. The camp is situated around a small pond, glittering in the sunlight but largely untouched, and scattered all around it are people, looking like they're nothing more than skin and bones.

There's men and women of all ages and sizes, shrieking crazily and dancing around the flames. They all look sunken and pale, and not pale in the way Phil's skin is like. these people are like Cat but nightmarish, wasted and mottled and looking like they should be dead. Their clothes are ragged and dirty, hanging off of them. They're like some psychotic primitive tribe in modern clothes.

They're like zombies.

This thought has barely crossed my mind when Mark starts slapping at our backs, ordering us to turn around, to leave right now. Because there's something else, something even worse.

Strewn all over the forest floor of the camp, off-white and picked clean in the sunlight are piles upon piles of bones. Distinctively human bones.

There are also wolves prowling amongst the people of the campsite, and I see one raise its nose and sniff the air, it's head jerking in our direction and it's hackles raising.

It can smell us.

"What is it, puppy?" A scratchy-voiced woman asks the beast sweetly, drawing a curved knife from her skirt. She glances around, trying to discern a form in the sense overgrowth.

"That's it, we're out of here!" Mark orders as loudly as he dares, and I shake myself out of my stupor, grabbing onto Phil who's still frozen in shock by the wrist and turning around, bolting before any of the lunatics see us.

My whole body is a firestorm of nerves and I see Marzia and Mark already up ahead, sprinting up the hill with guns drawn.

Not far off, I hear barking, branches snapping as something comes barreling after us in hunting pursuit.

I scramble back towards the boulders, managing to get one foot onto the gritty surface when suddenly a wolf bursts from the bush, barking and snarling with lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth and glaring silvery eyes.

It charges straight for us and I barely have time to lift my crowbar before it knocks into me and Phil, causing me to stumble and lose my grip on him and him to trip, slamming down against the rock and knocking his head on the solid surface.

"PHIL!" I scream as I struggle to get to him but the wolf is in the way, standing stiffly with hackles raised as if daring me to try and take him. His eyes are shut and he's laying limply against the rock, his mouth parted in an expression of pain, the only indication that he's conscious.

I'm desperate to reach him.

"Dan! Look out!" Mark shouts before firing a shot straight into the flank of the monster from where he's standing, only a few short paces away. The creature howls as a hole is ripped into its hide, bit it doesn't stumble or even waver, it just whips around to snarl at him.

Then I notice the patches all over its body. I notice the dullness of its fur, the silver eyes that should have been the dead giveaway, and the bloody flesh around its jaw.
The wolf is a zombie.

Mark reaches the conclusion at the same time as I do, looking at me incredulously as I choke in disbelief at how much harder this just got.

"There's zombie animals?!" He asks in a shout, looking horrified at the very thought. If this is the explanation for the absence of life here, then things are about to get a lot harder.

Two more wolves leap out from the bushes, the same dead eyes and vicious expressions contorting their faces.

"It's gotten worse." I realize, my stomach sinking and my heart speeding up. The virus isn't exclusive to humans anymore. This is so, so much worse.

"Dan! Marzia!" Mark shouts urgently, eyes wild as he thinks fast. "Get Phil out of here! I'll keep them distracted until I can get a shot at their heads!"

I don't even stop to answer, my heart is pounding as I doge the lunging attack of one wolf, this horribly mutated zombeast, cracking my crowbar so viciously against its jaw that it snaps, leaving its ferocious face dented and bleeding viciously. I turn on my heel and sprint for Phil, the original dog turning to intercept me but getting distracted by a shot from Mark's gun.

Nothing is going to come between me and Phil.

Marzia's already reached him and is standing protectively in front of where he's lying crumpled on the stone, her gun raised to defend against any attack.

"Phil!" I gasp as I scramble over, placing my hand on his forehead and feeling a pulse but having trouble getting his eyes to focus. He mumbles something and I slap his face gently and earnestly with the tips of my fingers until his eyes open weakly and he accepts our help, standing up with an expression of pain, Marzia and I each draping an arm over our shoulders and slowly leading him up the rock wall.

He groans and clenches his teeth and I can tell he's in a lot of pain.

"My head- it hurts so much." He hisses, sinking against me.

His breaths are tense and stilted, he's swaying and and leaning heavily on us both. Beneath his fringe I'm starting to see a small trickle of blood running down the side of his head, and though it's not incredibly serious I still panic at his being hurt.

We lead him up the slope until we're safely out of sight and then I quickly set him down, leaning him against a tree trunk and then raking my fingers into the ground, ripping up handfuls of moss. Shots are echoing in the air and I know Mark is probably overwhelmed. My mind is racing and I finally tear off a useful amount off moss. After I get a good fistful, I shove it into Marzia's hand and turn to run back down the hill, when she looks up at me in alarm.

"Dan!" She shouts, her eyes wide, "what are you doing?!"

"Use the moss to make the bleeding stop!" I order frantically. I hear snarls down below and feeling a redoubled sense of urgency, and I look her dead in the eyes so that she feels the meaning in every word. "I'm going back to help Mark. Stay back and don't let anybody hurt him." I point to Phil, who looks at me weakly through hazy eyes.

"Dan..." he croaks, reaching fearfully for me as though he's terrified of being separated. I stretch out my fingers and grab hold of his hand for a moment and I swear he grips back so so tightly I have to shake my wrist a bit to get him to let go. His face falls and he suddenly looks a lot more awake, aware now that I'm actually leaving.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." I promise, words mostly directed at Phil who looks terrified. "I don't want Mark suck down there with those psychopaths nearby."

And it's true. As much as I detest the guy, nobody deserves to die by a pack of zombeast wolves or a horde of potential cannibals. I'm not heartless.

"Take my gun, then." Marzia says firmly, thrusting it into my hand. Leave the crowbar here, you'll need precision."

I clasp the small black pistol in my grip and feel it already loaded, placing the crowbar reluctantly into her expectant palm. This new, tiny weapon feels light and balanced, psychologically it feels heavy when I reflect on the notion that this item is highly lethal.

"Thanks." I say quickly, then I push out of the bush, scrambling and stumbling down the hill with no sense of caution now.

It only takes about ten seconds for me to stumble down the hill, loose rock flying everywhere and me losing my footing multiple times. Within moments I'm back on the ground, level with the zombeasts who are gathered in a triangle, circling around Mark.

"Dan! what are you doing?" He shouts. "Get the hell out of here! I'll be fine!"

I glare angrily at him and raise the gun at the nearest wolf, this time hitting it right in the head in an explosion of gore. The wolf immediately drops to the ground, one down and two to go.

"I'm helping you out, asshole." I retort, jumping back as one wolf breaks free and surges forward to attack.

He doesn't reply to this, just steps forward determinedly so that we're back to back, one wolf per person. They snap at us with impossible strength and vigor, their undead nature granting them supernatural stamina. My hands are shaking a little and I can't get a decent enough angle to shoot. I need the wolf to expose the side of its head, but it's not doing that yet.

"Mark, we need to find a way to make them turn so we can shoot them!" I shout, glancing back at him to see if he heard. The wolf in front of him has moved onto my side and so Mark shifts to stand next to me, our backs to the trees. I can hear his ragged breathing, he's trying to formulate a plan.

We're both reeling with the necessity of teamwork at the moment. Cooperating with him alone is hardly something I want him to do, but it has to happen if we both want out of here alive.

"One second," he mutters, his whole body tensing from stress. "When the left one goes to pounce again, shoot it while it's distracted. Then we can both attack the other one and-"

A voice cuts over his, he's suddenly interrupted.

"-that... won't be necessary."

The voice is slick and cool, coming from directly behind us. I only have time to jerk my head around before a cold, dry hand clamps over my mouth and I'm shoved into the ground, pinned by iron arms and pebbles digging painfully into my flesh. The gun skids out of my hand and the wolves are hardly a threat anymore as I try to fight against this new assault, but he easily dodges my punch and forces my hand down, digging his knee into the crook of my elbow.

I hear Mark go down as well at the hands of a second force, and glancing up I can now see the face of my attacker.

It's a man, pale with sickly skin and matted, greasy hair, sharp cheekbones poking grotesquely out of his face. He's looking at me hungrily, a definite sight that he's dangerous. He snaps his fingers and one of the wolves steps forward, not attacking but hovering threateningly close to where my head is, forcing me to keep still.

"Who did my puppies find?" The man drawls softly, creepily, tilting my head back with the tips of his fingers. I notice he has a wooden plank in his hand, splattered with dried blood from previous sinister uses. My heart starts pounding as I try to reach for my gun but it's laying tantalizingly on the ground, only a few inches too far away. Behind me I hear Mark struggling against the person who's blocking his mouth with his hand, his voice only coming out as muffled sounds. The man who has me takes a section of my hair in his hand and starts running his fingers through it, sending a chill down my spine.

I can't yank away, his grip is like iron and the wolf's jaw is only inches from my head, preventing me from struggling at all. His eyes suddenly widen and his face stretches into a greedy grin, as if he's seen something very rare in the details of my face. "Very nice, puppies." He says loudly, his voice now full of excitement and eagerness. "Verrrrry nice."

I have no idea what he's seen and frankly, I don't give a shit. I'm absolutely, positively terrified.

I open my mouth to scream against his palm and start kicking viciously, trying to alert Marzia, Phil, anyone at all who could hear me. The man's voice is dangerous, psychotic, he wants to do something horrible to us.

"Oh no. Stop that, boy. We don't like that." He hisses, glaring at me ferociously. "You're a special one you are, boy. I can use you..."

He jerks his head towards his companion, raising his plank menacingly.

"I like this one." He states. "Let's take him home."

His companion garbles something in agreement and he sneers, tracing my jawline with his finger ominously.

"Time to go to sleep, boy."

And that's the last thing I hear before he lifts his plank with his free hand and slams it into my head. Everything goes black, the pain and the panic and the fear ebbing away all at once.