In a way, I need a change
From this burnout scene
Another time, another town, another everything
But it's always back to you
-O.A.R., Shatter

Phil

"Do you not think it's a slight bit too early to be taking the watch?"

Up here on the watchtower, the wind is much stronger and decidedly a bit colder. I've never actually properly taken the watch before, and now I'm sat here watching Dan climb up to join me on it before the sun's even gone down. He insisted I climb up first because of the duvet he's carrying, taking a lot longer than me as a result.

The looks on everyone's faces when we just up and left was definitely a bit amusing in a way but I also felt slightly bad, ditching Cat to be alone with Dan again for what seems like the third or fourth time. Not that it really matters, I guess. Unlike my counterpart, she seems to like this Wirrow guy.

I wonder what this looks like to everybody. Two days ago we weren't even speaking and now we've gone off alone twice on lengthy walks and then arrived back home just to take off again. I, for one, know exactly what Cat is thinking, seeing how shameless she is about shooting knowing looks.

"Shut up and avoid people with me." Dan answers from somewhere below, his coppery hair appearing from below the platform.

He drags the overlarge duvet up and over the ladder's rung, hoisting himself up next. The platform isn't very big, I have enough room to stretch my legs out and that's about it. It's made from mismatched wooden planks and is essentially half nailed and half fastened in place on the flat top of the rock wall. I'm not afraid of heights but seeing all the treetops on level with me is making me a little dizzy, or maybe I'm just falling ill from staying out in the rain. I smile a bit as Dan struggles with the bulky object in the wind, shuffling over to sit next to me.

Cat hadn't even bothered to conceal her smug little look when Dan asked me to come with him. Dan being Dan he just got up, grabbed the blanket and left without a farewell to anyone, but not before asking me to come along too. She thinks we're joined at the hip already even if the reality is not quite that, I knew she'd find it funny that I reacted so eagerly. I just follow him around, half of my enthusiasm in his presence going completely unnoticed. I swear he thinks I'm just putting up with him, like it's coincidental that I give us the label of best friends. Oh well. I guess she'll get the joy of explaining that to Wirrow.

Unexpectedly, Dan doesn't wrap the blanket around himself. Instead he pulls it over, kneeling down next to me and lifting it around my shoulders.

I start at the soft contact, feeling his hands secure it at the base of my chin and push the two meeting ends into my hand. After the chilly residual feeling of being drenched in rain, this feels like everything I needed, warmth seeping back into my cold fingers pleasantly. It even covers up my legs. He looks almost comically concentrated, like it's possible to screw up something so simple. I meanwhile am blushing like an idiot, my head poking out of the down and not much else.

"Wait, this is for me?" I squeak, already feeling the dreaded warmness in my cheeks. If that's not the most unintentionally destructive thing he could have done for me, I don't know what is. He's still fussing with getting it to settle around me, making sure I'm holding onto it tightly before letting go. I curse inwardly for feeling butterflies over it. He didn't say that was the purpose for hauling it all the way up there.

"Yeah." He says nonchalantly, flopping down beside me and letting his legs dangle over the edge. "It's bloody cold up here at night and you're prone to getting sick, which your immune system doesn't need when you're recovering from a gunshot. Plus, I didn't really give you a choice in coming up here.  So might as well."

"Since when do you go out of your way to do little services for me?" I ask him teasingly. "Considering I'm mobile now, usually you'd just pass me the blanket and make me carry it myself." It's true that this isn't something Dan would typically do. He's surprised me several times today.

I feel as though I've seen a change in Dan in the last few days. I don't know when it happened exactly- just that something has shifted minutely. He's, dare I say, happy? In an unusual turn. I didn't think our conflict had been a good thing but ever since we resolved it he's been so much better. My eyes are on his face near constantly, just waiting for the moment where he lets his guard down and his bright vibrant smile pushes through, relaxing his features and making the dimple poke out.

He flushes in embarrassment and I scoot over to poke him with my shoulder, assuring him it's only a joke.

"I'm not heartless." He mutters, shoving me away without even looking. I almost tip right over without the use of my hands to balance me. "I'm returning the favours you probably did me at some point."

I'd be perfectly content to believe that, anyone who doesn't know him probably would, but the look on his face gives it away.

Right. In other words he's secretly grateful that I actually chose to go up with him rather than staying back with our friends. I know Dan Howell. He'd sooner fall off the tower than ever admit out loud that he's doing something out of the goodness of his own heart. It's a pretty convincing excuse though, he's good at those.

"Or maybe you're just being nice." I suggest, not quite ready to let it drop.

"I don't do nice." He replies flatly. "Stop being annoying and let me appreciate you."

My heart skips a beat, pleased that I've been able to get this out of him. "So you admit you appreciate me?" I prod him.

He sighs irritably, focusing intently on the remaining clouds still left from the thunderstorm. "Yes, Phil."

And of course deep down I already knew that, but we all get a little needy sometimes.

We're sitting on the quilts that Cat gave us earlier for our shoulders, giving us a patch of dryness on the damp wood. I sort of wish I had warm clothes to change into, but we left all of our stuff outside. Come to think of it, we should probably be hanging all that stuff up to dry, but that doesn't seem to be what's going to happen anytime soon.

"Honestly." he mutters. "Imagine if I said no."

I feel the ridiculous urge to wrap the blanket around him too. That would be so weird but I still want to.

"You wouldn't do that." I muse, more to myself than anything, and rightly enough he doesn't reply. He sits back and lets the remaining sunlight wash over his face, the wind picking up some of his hair and tossing it around. I try to remember the direction we walked in to find the camp of the half-lights. The walk was off the trail and I was thinking more about keeping pace with Dan than anything, and from here the forest spread mostly looks the same. Trees going on for miles and miles, broken only by the ghost town in the south and hills in the distance. That's all there is around here. That's all there is in South England in general- hills. Trees, water, rocks, and hills. At least the landscape is just as homey as the familiar areas around London, that's something the outbreak can't change.

We sit alongside one another for a while, and Dan seems content with the silence. After so much talking earlier I don't even really mind sitting still with him and not saying anything. I watch the sun sink lower over the next hour or so and feel my clothes begin to dry, neither seeing nor hearing any signs of danger. I'm glad that he's up here too because the lack of motion is making me drowsy.

Not for the first time I take a moment to glance at him while he's distracted, seeing his chin cupped in his palm and wondering what he's thinking. He wears his emotions so carefully it's really quite difficult to tell what could be on his mind exactly. It's only when he's really stressed or upset that he lets his guard down. The dying light has his skin tinted rose gold, it suits him. I don't feel bad allowing myself to look.

"So," I ask quietly after a few more minutes of silence. "Do you think we have anything to lose by following the group into the city?"

He considers this, silently agreeing to address the issue on the forefront of both of our minds. I can practically hear the him going over the details of our pathetic lives in his mind, debating how moving to a new location could really change things.

"No." He answers eventually. "But we don't exactly have anything to gain either. We've taken this long just to get this far from London, are you really sure that you want to go back?"

I shake my head, not entirely sure of that myself. "Is that where you think he'd take us, London?"

"Well I don't actually know that. You were there for as much of the discussion as I was, but what other place do we call The City?"

"True. When you said London he went along with it."

He shakes his head slowly. "Honestly...I don't want to go back. Or at least not to your area. I don't want to see the parks or Seven Dials if it's all been reduced to ruins. That fire that we saw, that was massive."

I frown at this, remembering my apartment and thinking about how it's likely gone now. I don't really miss material things anymore, but there were important things in there, pictures of me with my family or with Dan, my blue and green comforter that makes me feel comfortable in new places and more than that just a feeling of security and safety. A sense of real home. I'm fine right now but it would be hard to go back and see that. Broken buildings and ashes in the place of where I once lived. I don't know how anyone could see that. I guess it would give a sense of closure.

Dan sighs and his fingers begin to tap at the wood beneath his hand, letting me know that he's thinking again. With his other hand he pushes his hair out of his eyes, forming a quiff, and I think he can tell where my mind has gone to, because he quickly speaks up.

"Don't be upset about it." He says rather bluntly. "Home isn't in London anymore. There isn't a London anymore."

I guess not. I think, shrugging indifferently. I look at his shadowed face and narrow shoulders, a single thought floating through:

...I guess now home is you.

But of course I don't say that aloud. If I said something like that he'd probably scoff. Even if I mean it. I can't picture myself going through all of this alone. But it'd be strange to say out of nowhere.

"It's a big city." I tell him. "The guy probably wouldn't take us to the heart of it anyway. If he's living in a concrete building then the shelter's probably somewhere industrial, like Canterbury or below Wembley. He's says it's safe."

"Is it actually safe though?" Dan questions. "Don't forget that he wants us to help him find other survivors once we live there. How many people are we supposed to be living with?"

That's the Dan I know. He doesn't trust other people. I don't blame him, knowing how he is and all we've seen.

"PJ and Felix are good there. If they sent Wirrow rather than coming themselves to tell us about it, they're probably pretty comfortable."

"You sound suspiciously like you're actually considering it." He accuses me.

"I don't want to rule it out. What if it is a good thing? You're right, London isn't London anymore. I'd be okay with a new life if you and I are safe."

He pulls up his knees, hugging them to his chest and setting his chin down. "I'm not convinced." He insists, giving me a sideways glance.

"Neither am I." I assure him. "We'll ask him more questions tomorrow morning. And talk to Mark and Cat."

It suddenly occurs to me that I have included Mark in our friendly conversation. My first thought was to weigh our options with him, not just Cat. I'm not sure why, we don't owe him anything. I guess the jerk has grown on me more than I thought he did. I'm certainly not going if Dan isn't, but I also don't like the idea of sending Mark alone. He needs a friend to watch his back, maybe he is somewhat of a friend now.

I know I shouldn't be focusing so hard on the good things that a sheltered life in the city could bring, but my imagination is taking over, showing me all the things I've wanted for for so long. Running water. Solid, protected walls. Electricity and a real bed. The allure of life going back to normal is so tempting. I want it to be true so bad. I'll leave the critical analyzing of the situation to Dan, giving him a chance to deduce the whole thing. I trust his judgement.

The sky bursts into colour, ever-darkening but laid out before us in deep oranges, pinks, and purples, burning the last of the raincloud away. The first bits of evening are drawing on quickly, and wrapped in the soft cotton of the comforter I find myself laying back, knowing Dan's watchful gaze is still on our surroundings. My entire field of vision is now open sky, a pale purple with grey clouds, drifting lazily by. I let everything else fall away and just watch them, letting the energetic nature of the day slowly catch up to me.

Before I can help it I feel my eyes closing, the brilliant sunset fading to black. The last thing I hear are Dan's quite taps.

I wake up later to stars.

I sit up quickly, noting that Dan hasn't moved since I last saw him. His eyes are fixed on the forest, but I see them flicker to me upon realizing I'm awake.

"Hey. How long was I out?" I ask, smiling when I meet eyes with him. I still feel a bit sleepy but it melts away quickly, I shift the blanket which has fallen slightly askew and reposition it around me, washing myself once again in warmth.

"A couple hours." he answers. Then, instead of shifting back into silence like he usually does, he keeps talking. "You missed it. There was a shooting star shortly after the sun went down, a huge one. The sort of thing that would have made you grab my arm and tell me to make a wish on, like the weirdo that you are."

I blush at that. He knows me so well. "I know you're obsessed with the night sky too." I remind him, and he doesn't deny it. "You better have at least wished, since you didn't wake me up so I could."

He shakes his head at me. "You're such a loser. It was a shooting star. It was over in a couple of seconds. You would have woken up to nothing."

"Oh, sorry." I answer, in a joking tone that suggests otherwise. "So what did you wish for?"

"How do you know that I did?" He replies testily.

"I don't." I answer, grinning. "But you just told me."

He gives me a disdainful look in outward protest of my teasing, apparently not finding it at all amusing. But Dan is not one for letting me win, and so he retaliates, smirking.

"Wouldn't you like to know. I can't tell you, it would cancel the wish."

I shake my head, though I'm pleased that he's smiling. "Did you just make that up now? I didn't realize there were rules for wishing."

"Wishing is stupid." He mumbles, shaking his head. "I only did it because you were sleeping and I knew you'd have wanted to. And yes, that is rule. If you tell the wish, it won't come true. It was a weird one, I'll let you know if it ever comes true, even though I highly doubt that. I don't believe in supernatural shit like that."

"You literally live in a world full of zombies." I point out. "Two years ago, we didn't even believe they existed."

I jump when a sudden light catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I tug on Dan's sleeve but he's already seen it. There's people in the forest, walking down the same trail that Dan and I had followed two days earlier to head into town.

"Screw this. I won't be doing it again.." he mumbles distractedly, though his eyes are on the disturbance.

As it turns out, it'll be a long time before I learn his wish, or even remember it at all.

"Da-" I go to say, before I catch sight of something far more unsettling than strangers unaware of us being able to see them in the night.

I can't make out the faces or features of any of the people loping along, not even with the glowing torches held tightly in their hands. All I can see is that they're moving past the farmhouse, slowly but surely heading our way. But I can see the black silhouettes of the creatures following alongside them, and that's when my heart lurches.

Wolves.

Impossibly, it takes several seconds for it to sink in. I just stare at the distantly approaching creatures, not fully allowing myself to believe I would ever have to see these monsters again. They're coming by night, they could be here completely innocently, I could be entirely mistaken but my mind is reeling at the idea that I could be seeing-

"Half-lifes." Dan spits. "How much you want to bet they followed Wirrow?"

My head snaps to look at him and we just stare for a terrified second, similar memories cutting across our thoughts all at once. They must have seen Wirrow when he encountered Pj and Felix in the woods. Heard them discussing our location. Dan looks away first, not even inputting more on his suspicions.

Then he's off and scrambling down the ladder, abandoning a great deal of caution and skipping rungs. My heart clenches in my chest as I imagine the pale, sunken faces pursuing us once more, sending the wolves in front of them, out to kill all of us and catching Dan, hurting him again but worse-

I push out of the blanket and frantically begin to descend too, my uncoordinated hands slipping in my rush to get down and warn everyone. The wood is still slick and wet from the rain and Dan is below me, I don't want to fall on him. The half-lights are still at a decent distance so it's not like we don't have a head start, for all we know they might not even be coming for us. But that's grasping at straws and it's a chance we can't risk taking.

It only takes about twenty seconds to get down the ladder but it still feels like too long. We give everyone a start by dropping to the ground, in another circumstance it may have been funny how the three around the fire jump when we stumble into view.

They don't seem to pick up on the urgency in our movements.

Cat's silver eyes widen and Mark raises his eyebrows at us in surprise. "Phil?" He asks confusedly. "Dan? We weren't expecting you down for another couple of-"

"Half-lifes." I cut over him quickly. "There's half-lifes moving in our direction. I don't know for a fact that they're coming for us but if they are then they'll be here in minutes."

"We don't have a choice." Wirrow speaks up with a serious finality, looking between Dan and I with a creased brow. "There's no arguing with those guys. We have to go."

In the back of my mind I make a mental note to inquire later how he knows that.

"Guess you get your wish, Wirrow." Mark says, jumping up and pulling Cat up too. "You better have a way out of here for us, because we're following your lead."

"Wait!" Cat shouts, face afraid and hands shaking slightly. She's a half-life herself. It probably won't be long before she can sense them. "We're just up and leaving? What about supplies? You guys have nothing on you, don't you need to stop and at least grab some necessities or-"

"There's no time." Dan argues. "You could stay back and grab mine or Phil's pack under the willow if possible, but otherwise we need to get moving before they get closer."

He turns around almost as quickly as Wirrow does, and I realize that he is, in fact, afraid. I mean yes, to some degree we all are a little anxious, of course none of us want to fight them, but for the first time ever, the expression on Dan's face is nothing short of panic. He and Mark suffered at their hands worse than any of us did, we almost didn't make it out last time. Not all of us made it out last time we were attacked by them, and Dan thinks that's all his fault.

Stay with him. My mind tells me. I stride over to reach him, picking up my axe from where I'd left it leaning against a split log. Cat jogs up next to me with a backpack slung over her shoulder, knife in hand and wary eyes on the gate, and so we walk shoulder-to-shoulder, moving apart only to stand on either side of Dan.

And then we see the torches.

They've arrived faster, much faster than we thought they would. I take a step back and Mark curses as the light draws nearer, giving us mere seconds to think about what to do.

"Get out of the camp." He orders us frantically, pushing our dumbstruck figures forward. Wirrow steps up and nods assent.

"We can't afford to be cornered in here. If we face them, we face them in the woods."

He's right. The camp is closed in by the gate and the rock wall. We'll be trapped like rats if we don't get past the crowd.

"Then lets move!" Mark shouts, breaking into a run with gun drawn. He points its into the woods towards the light source, guarding our backs while we hurriedly file out.

Stay next to Dan. Stay next to Dan. Stay next to-

The first wolf leaps forward from the darkness with teeth bared.

Then two more come forward, the forest comes alive with crashes, and then we're surrounded, over a dozen against our four. My eyes scan the line of people, faces cast with strange shadows in the darkness. Several of them are carrying torches, but my eyes immediately go to one person.

The tall, thin, greasy man. The leader's second-in-command. He doesn't threaten us or even speak this time, just fixes his eyes on me and Dan, raising his hand as if giving a signal. I hear the delighted chuckles of the women and men, see the eerie leers on their gaunt faces. Then he closes his hand, and they all surge forward.

It's madness. I'm striking people left, right and centre with my axe before I can even consider the moral wrongness of it. I don't care about the moral wrongness of it. Dan knocks a man to the ground next to me and I strike a wolf, blood surging out and staining my clothes. I wince as it splatters against my face. Then I move right on to the next person. A few half-lifes run right past us and into the camp, shouting things I'm too preoccupied to listen to.

A light leaps up in the brush.

I look to Wirrow, who's fighting but trying to get our attention, directing us away.

"Wirrow!" I shout, feeling a burst of fear as Dan darts away from my side and charges at the leader, intending, I realize, to kill him. To settle the score and avenge Marzia's death. The man looks ready, raising a machete as if daring him to come closer with the crowbar. My mind races as the urge to follow him overtakes me, but I'd rather we all just ran. We don't have to fight them. We could be killed by them. Getting away would be safer than pursuing revenge.

"Tell your friend to back off!" Wirrow shouts at me, raising a silver pistol and shooting down a wolf. "I can get us out of here if we make it back to the ghost town, tell him to turn around!"

I don't need to be told twice. I cut through the crowd, quite literally cut, knocking aside any attackers that try to stand in my way. A hand grips my arm and nails rake across my skin but I kick the attacker off, diving forward and intercepting the machete whistling in Dan's direction. The weapon clanks off the wood and the leader rounds on me. Dan doesn't even hesitate, hitting him hard on the back of the head as payback for the mistake of distraction. But he doesn't flinch, just moves more aptly towards me.

"You two think you're getting compensation by killing me?" The man leers, smirking at our attacks on him which he cannot feel.

I grip my weapon more tightly and breathe heavily, keeping Dan in the corner of my vision as other half-life's approach, ready to attack.

"No, no." The man hisses, and they all back off at once. "Leave these two to me."

He stretches out an arm and a torch is handed to him, throwing his sharp features into light.

"You killed our leader, Borg." He growls darkly, advancing towards us with a steady hand. "All this time we have worked to track you, though it seems the Confederation has found you first. I'm sure they'd kill you and make you pay and I'd be quite content to leave you there, except it'd be way more satisfying to watch you die myself."

He quirks the torch with a flick of his wrist and I see Dan flinch ever so slightly, remembering, no doubt, the last time a half light had brought him that near to a flame. He tries desperately to hide it, but the man notices all the same.

"Afraid of fire, I see. Most people who survive our family typically are. Well, then," he chuckles, keeping the machete raised so that we stay backed off. "You definitely won't like this."

He pulls back his hand and whips the torch forward, making both Dan and I lurch to get  out of the way. But he isn't throwing it at us. He's throwing it into the gate.

Fire hits the dry brush immediately, igniting it at once and quickly growing to a bigger flame. All around us half-lights follow suit, throwing their torches against the rock wall or under large trees, making smoke billow out everywhere and Mark to cry out in alarm.

Flames reach out for us with hungry fingers and I feel Dan's hand yank me back, dragging me away from the burning light even as I gape transfixed. The camp is burning. The camp is in flames. The only reason is isn't spreading faster is because of the rain from much earlier in the day. All of Dan's possessions are in there. All the things he took from London still in his bag.

My heart begins to pound, out of fear or out of anger I cannot say, and at the same time Dan and I surge forward, him hitting the weapon out of the man's hand and then me smashing my axe into the side of his head.

Immediately his face falls as he realizes we've actually damaged him. Dan grabs him by the collar, his face unrecognizable with so much rage. It catches me off guard for a second, seeing his face warped into something so strange.

"Im going to kill you." He breathes shakily. "I'm going to kill you and everyone else for what you've done to us. I don't give a fuck about your Confederation."

The man sniggers, drawing back at blinding speed and cracking his fist against the side of Dan's face, causing him to gasp and fall back. The man is weaponless but he steps forward all the same, maybe even planning to bite him and turn him still. I catch Dan by the elbow and hold my axe out, keeping the man back.

A bruise is already forming on Dan's cheek, purplish where the previous ones have only begun to heal. A trickle of blood runs from his nose,but he's still glaring determinedly, oblivious to his own pain. The half-life leader is bleeding viciously out of his temple, the skin brutally dented from the axe blade, but I missed his brain. It hasn't fazed him.

Mark has just finished struggling through the remainder of the crowd, backing up quickly as the flames move in. He's seen our predicament and is moving over to help us, while Wirrow and Cat watch his back.

"You can't kill me." The leader taunts. "I have the whole of the family behind me. See their obedience. See how the puppies are at bay until I give the command. You have only one choice."

The half life mass moves sideways so that our exit is blocked. The fire is at our back and the rest of the path they encircle. I can feel the heat even at this distance.

"If you give me him," the man says, pointing directly at Dan, "I'll consider us even. The confederation will reward us for his blood. You can give him to us, or we can leave you to the flames."

I shake my head. There's no way in hell we'd ever do that.

The man's eyes burn almost as harshly as the fire. "I don't take no for an answer."

He looks to the left and snaps his fingers, and the last two wolves leap forward at once. Half-lifes begin converging on all sides, I have only a second to look over at Dan before I'm yanked backwards by several half-life hands, pulling the two of us apart.

But I'm not taken anywhere. They pull me back even as I struggle and then they just leave me there, knives pointed at me so I can't get back.

Mark, Wirrow, Cat and I are on one side of the line of people.

Dan is on the other.

A wolf stalks forward, the man watching bemusedly as I'm hit with a sickening sense of deja vu.

Marzia.

But there's no one to stand in Dan's way, even then it didn't help. I still remember.

He raises his weapon determinedly, unafraid of the challenge and driven by anger.

My heart is pounding. This isn't happening, I think viciously. This isn't happening again.

The leader signals and the wolf charges.

I see the gun in Mark's hands and station myself next to him without really thinking. He only has a split-second to notice me before I've yanked it out of his hands, prompting an angry shout ("Phil! What the hell are you doing?!") and whipped my arm out forward, firing it straight into the head of the wolf.

The hit is clumsy seeing as I'm no specialist but it strikes where it needs to, hitting some vital organ dead-on and exploding with gore. The wolf falls instantly and I quickly hand the gun back, sprinting over to go help Dan who stumbles back in momentary surprise, taking in the body before lifting up his weapon and in one fluid motion striking out with the crowbar in a crescent, knocking the people in his way aside.

The half life leader backs into the woods as the flames draw closer, and though I've just managed to reach Dan he jerks away from my relieved grasp. He's blinded by hate.

"For god's sake!" Wirrow bellows, "Stop! Lets get out already!" Cat grabs the both of us by the collars of our shirts and yanks us backward, realization flooding into my mind that we've forgotten our objective, escape, and settled on revenge. And with everything in me I want to continue it, I want them all dead for what they did to us, to Mark and Marzia and Dan.

But then another reminder seeks to entertain itself: the fire.

Heat washes over my skin as the flames erupt over the grass and the trees, sending me reeling backwards and finally off running with my friends. Half-lifes all around seem to be realizing they too are endangered by this and have deserted, running in safer directions or following us. Now it's just about outrunning it. We can't go back to our camp. The camp is gone.

"No!" Dan screams, actually choking out the sound with a voice close to hysteria. "We can't let him get away-"

I grab his wrist with shaky fingers and help Cat pull him away, and even still he struggles until the fire is too close to be safe. He gives in but he can't tear his gaze away, seeing the smug look of the monstrous face through the wall of fire.

"He killed her!" He screams, ignoring my imploring tug on his sleeve. "We can't let him just escape!"

"Dan, we'll die if we stay here." I cry, dragging him now. "The forest is on fire!"

He shakes his head and takes one last pathetic step before the half-life smirks and draws back into the woods. Two or three have stayed behind and have moved to follow us determinedly and so with a pained turn of the heel Dan finally listens, gripping his weapon and following me as I join our friends in following Wirrow.

I don't miss his shaky breaths or aggressive steps. It's hard to miss the the clear signs that he feels like he failed her. The worst part is that there's nothing I can do to comfort him.

We run and we don't stop running. My lungs burn and my throat is steadily growing dry and choked from the smoke. The fire isn't as close as it was before but I can still smell it, still feel the toxic ash trying to pierce my lungs. The now-familiar landmarks rush by until we burst into that clearing behind the white farmhouse, the ghost town dark and the open black sky littered with stars. I take in deep lungfuls of fresh, clean air, rushing to get as far away from the woods as possible.

As Wirrow directs us away from the treeline I see what he's left tucked away in the bushes: A truck.

I haven't seen a functional vehicle in years, this truck doesn't even look functional but he slips a key out of his pocket, giving us urgent looks.

"Get in." Wirrow tells us, popping open the drivers' side door and gesturing to the seats. "I have one seat up front and there's room for three in the back. Come on!"

The flames begin to lick above the treetops and I know we don't have a choice.

I pull open the passenger's side door, gesturing for Dan to get in. He climbs in, sliding over to the other side of the vehicle while I clamber into the middle and Mark takes the spot to my left. The car smells stale and yet piney, as if it's been abandoned a while in the woods. I see Cat settle into the front seat.

I hear the engine rev, sputtering abruptly and then roaring to life. Wirrow shifts out of park and then we're lurching forward, spitting out dust behind us and peeling away from the burning woods, the wall of flame approaching quickly. There are no seatbelts.

At first no one speaks. There's not much sound at all save for the humming of the engine and the haggard breaths of everyone after our flight. The distant orange glow illuminates my friends' faces, the slightest amount of pale purple peeking over the horizon line. I notice a digital clock on the dashboard, blue letters that, if they're still accurate, read 4:06 a.m. My fingers trace the fabric of the seat beneath me, feeling strange and out of place with this kind of motion.

"Where are we going?" I ask anxiously, nervousness punctuating the silence.

Wirrow's eyes flicker to look at me in the rearview mirror, contemplating my face before shifting back to the approaching road.

"The gas in this is good for about two and a bit hours, then we'll have to ditch it. No sense keeping a truck we can't drive. There's a lake just outside the railway line area so I'll stop us there. Let you guys get cleaned up and drink some water. Then a train will take us to the city." There's a bump beneath the tires and then we're on the road, driving rather than walking it for the first time ever.

I have to replay his words a couple times to comprehend what's he's said. Mark takes the words right out of my mouth.

"There are working trains? How on earth-" with all that's happened in the apocalypse, I cannot comprehend how they're still running.

"Some people in the city have been working hard." Wirrow says simply, tapping his thumb on the wheel.

This of course does nothing to sate our confusion, and he seems to realize we require more of an explanation.

"Let's just say there's a small population still alive in London, and theres a sort of pseudo governing system making everything work. Things are different now. You'll see."

Though he says it like it's a good thing, it comes out unintentionally ominous.

"Where'd you get this truck?" Mark asks suspiciously. Despite his accusatory tone, Wirrow doesn't look too worried.

"A lot of us city survivors have them." He replies with a shrug. His eyes rare focused on the approaching road.

The silence stretches on noticeably, and I see him shift in his seat.

"So you're all from London?" he asks, changing the subject.

We all look from one person to the other, and when nobody seems willing to speak, I awkwardly try to step up.

"Dan and I are." I reply, even though Dan's technically from Reading. By the time the outbreak began spreading he was practically living with me anyway. I'd actually begun to consider the idea of becoming roommates. Who knows what would have turned out.

"Cat lived on the outskirts, we ran into her on the road. Mark-"

I glance at Mark, realizing I've no idea where he's from. The only location I've ever heard him mention was Brighton. He meets my eyes with a slightly distracted look, clearly stressed by the whereabouts of his friends. I suspect that even if he doesn't realize it, he's probably not content to be alone with us, even if he's trying to convince us otherwise. His normally brash features just look tired, not helped at all by the sleepless night.

"I'm actually from America." He supplies, surprising me. I always thought his accent sounded different from everyone else's. "I was visiting Marzia and Felix for the week and PJ was stopping in, he lived nearby. They're all from Brighton."

Wirrow makes an impressed sound, interested.

"I'm from London, myself." He tells us. "I visited America, but I'll always hold a soft spot for this country. Rainy depressing weather and all."

The dire mood relaxes, talk about home providing a distraction. I look over at Dan to see him slumping slightly to the side, eyes falling shut as his head dips down. I'm wide awake after my nap during our watch and the adrenaline of the last hour, but the events seem to have had the opposite effect on him. He looks totally drained, head falling onto his chest as he drifts off.

I consider pulling him onto my shoulder so that he at least has a pillow, but decide against it. He probably wouldn't want that, being how it's an unwarranted touch and all. Mark's back here anyway. He'd probably take it the wrong way. I satisfy myself by reaching out with my sleeve and wiping away the blood on his face, making him flinch a bit before settling back down.

Even from a distance I can still see the black smoke and growing light of the fire spreading from camp. The half lifes wanted to make sure we couldn't go back, so they burned it. What if we hadn't seen them coming? We had been meant to burn right along with it.

The further and further we drive the more strange I feel, leaving this area behind. For better or worse we've lived around here for a long time, sheltering and seeking and sometimes suffering all in this ten kilometre radius. And now we're heading back, leaving behind the burnt remains of our camp and the threat of half-lifes for whatever's new in London.

Back home.

All of a sudden I feel something I haven't in a long time, hit with the sensation like a punch to the abdomen: motion sickness.

Before the apocalypse I was highly susceptible to it, and now it's slamming into my gut full-force, making me groan and close my eyes. It used to be the bane of my existence when I was younger and my mum took me on long car trips to my uncle's in Wales or to the South, and though I was able to tolerate short excursions before going so long without it has clearly taken its toll.

There's nothing I can do but wait for it to pass, so I mumble my excuses to Mark and settle my shoulder against Dan's so I don't wake up with a stiff back. Once I'm somewhat comfortable I curl in on myself slightly, willing the nauseousness away and focusing on how tired I am, letting the terrifying moments wash away by dozing on and off.

The last thing I see is the sun beginning to rise, the last thing I hear is the the muted hum of our tires on the road.

~~

A gentle nudge on my shoulder shakes me out of unconsciousness later. I hadn't exactly been asleep in the first place- I'd opened my eyes from time to time to see what was going on- but now they stay open as I crack both eyes, stretching and taking in the now mostly lit area. The sun has made its way above the skyline finally, the digital clock now reading 6:30 am. Dan's face hovers over me, murmuring something about getting up. I smile softly at him, seeing how tired he looks, reaching past him to rub my hand over the fogged window.

And I don't know what I'm expecting, but it's isn't the wide stretch of flat, rippling water ringed by a spit of sand and some trees. It's a lake, translucent and still in the morning light with patches of mist ringing it. Although I've spent far too much time in the outdoors these days to really be impressed by anything, the sight really is quite beautiful.

"Woah." I breathe appreciatively, noticing that the truck has stopped moving.

Dan doesn't smile back at me, but he doesn't frown either. His bruised face is expressionless, contemplating me without a word.

On the opposite side of the lake from where we're stationed I see a rocky cliff edging upwards into the sky, grey boulders and green trees clinging to the face. Cut through it about halfway up is a neat, manmade line, which I immediately recognize to be train tracks. So this is where we're meant to stop. That's the line that will take us back to London, to the safehouse. This little area is so quaint and out of the way, I'm not entirely sure where we are.

"Yep, we're here." Wirrow announces, turning the key and making the engine fall silent. "We're also pretty much out of gas, but we made it to the lake."

"So.." I ask groggily, trying to get my bearings. "What are we doing now? Walking?"

"I'm going to try and make us a breakfast." He replies decidedly, eyeing Cat beside him in the seat. They had talked the whole way over here, Cat's natural outgoingness working well with Wirrow's apparent liking to chat. "I suggest you guys go for a swim and get cleaned up. You're covered in mud and blood. Cat doesn't eat so I'm sure she can help me-" Cat nods in agreement, "-and Mark, I'm suggesting you wash up too."

Mark just sits there silently and glances at me sideways and I chuckle, realizing he is not a man who likes to be told what to do.

"I don't want to swim, that water's probably colder than ice." He replies evenly.

I hear Dan scoff, pushing open the truck door on his side and stepping out. Mark starts at the sound and looks mildly offended, while I just shake my head.

"When's your next chance to bathe going to be?" I prod him jokingly, shaking my head. "You might as well do something useful while you wait for your food."

He narrows his dark eyes at me, shaking his head as well. "I'll pass on freezing my ass off. You two can go right on ahead."

"Oh, grow up." I hear Dan huff, seeing only the edge of his shoulder through the open door. I hadn't even realized he was actually waiting for me. His tone is impatient and annoyed, and I realize the drive has not calmed his mood at all.

"Never mind." I cut in quickly. "Dan and I are going to go clean up in the water, you can join us at any time."

Mark opens the other car door and a wave of humidity washes in. I guess summer isn't quite over yet, it's steadily becoming a hotter morning, "Have fun with that." he shoots sarcastically, following Cat and Wirrow to a patch of open ground, where they're trying to start a small fire. "I don't bathe."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I call back, and Mark flips me off. Laughing quietly I go to follow Dan, who drifts up to me silently and walks along the warm grass until our shoes encounter sand. The silence stretches as we toe off our shoes and walk in bare feet to the edge of the water, letting ourselves step in a few feet to get a feel for the morning temperature. It's freezing, but my mud-caked hair feels so gross I don't even care that much.

I realize if we want to get clean we'll have to remove most of our clothing, although I'm decidedly not going to be removing my shorts. Obviously. Our friends have managed to get a fire going back near the trees and the smell of wood smoke is now drifting pleasantly through the air. I glance at Dan who seems preoccupied and tap him on the arm. He slowly looks at me, kicking a stone further out and letting it plop back under the surface.

"So...should we-?" I trail off, my cheeks reddening a little. How does one nonchalantly ask his best friend to remove his clothes?

"Hm?"

"We're washing off, right?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

He doesn't seem to realize what I'm trying to talk about. Then again, it's probably not a big deal to him, but all of our friends are around and the notion that I could be seeing him shirtless soon is mildly hard for me to address.

"Are we just going to swim in..." I shrug my hands out helplessly, my words coming out dumb in my mouth. "...in our clothes?"

He looks at me like I'm weird. "No, Phil. Most people tend not to bathe in their clothes." And obviously I knew that, but the opposite way of asking is just not an option right now. "We should wash them and hang them up, actually, and then while they're drying we can be swimming. Just wear your boxers, that way we're not naked." His tone is disinterested and unenthusiastic, like he has other things on his mind. He begins to follow his own advice at once.

"Oh yeah." I reply somewhat idiotically. "R-right." Yeah, some people are smart enough to think of that without help. Not me, though. And great, he's mentioned us naked. Totally what my mind needs.

Dan steps back onto shore and immediately tugs off his shirt and sweater unceremoniously, followed by his jeans which he folds into a neat square. His sweater took the brunt of the dirt and damage, actually it still has some of my blood on it from when he used it to staunch the bullet wound. Of course he tried to clean it later, but it still left a stain. He steps back into the lake and begins to scrub out the various additions to the fabric, while I stand there awkwardly transfixed by his pale shoulders and long legs, which for the majority of our year have been covered by jeans.

Move, Phil. I prod myself internally, scrambling out of my clothes and then stumbling into the water without bothering to wash any of them, tossing them onto the sand instead. I'm trying to get waist deep and hide my lower body, even though it is covered. My skin puckers immediately from the open, breezy air and the chill of the lake. By the time Dan has laid out his sweater on the grass and come back into the water I'm already cold on one end, while my shoulders are heated and stinging from the rays of the sun beating down. If anyone gets sunburned, it's going to be me.

Dan starts to move toward me but then stops instead and just looks down into the water, washing off his arms with a lost look on his face. So instead I go up to him, wondering why the silence doesn't feel comfortable or why he doesn't want to talk.

The bruise on his cheek is a mess of red and dark purple. It starts just below his left eye and curves along his cheekbone, a souvenir of the half-light's fist. I want to hug him and remind him that there's no way we could have survived if we braved the fire and fought all of them, because I think the battle is still fresh in his mind.

"Dan." I say quietly, and he doesn't look up.

He moves on to the other arm, face expressionless.

"Dan are you okay?"

He stops moving and shakes his head somewhat reluctantly, then about midway through seems to change his mind.

"I'm fine." he replies decidedly. The surest sign that he's not.

"Why..." I don't take my eyes away from him, I'm sure he can feel my gaze. "Why are you so quiet?"

"I didn't kill him." Dan murmurs roughly, abruptly. "The half-light leader. He's the reason that Marzia's gone. The least I could have done for Felix after letting that happen was kill the man that took her away."

My eyes widen but I compose myself quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder. His skin is warm against my palm.

"Dan." I chide him gently, "Don't blame yourself. There was nothing you could do. I'm sure Felix has already forgiven you."

He shakes his head. "I don't care about his forgiveness. This is for her."

He goes to wander off without me and I know it might be what he needs at the moment, but I know he'll just drive himself crazy with his all his regrets and thoughts. I know he wants to be away from me, but that's exactly why I'm inclined to cling to him. Call me selfish, but I just don't want to let him go.

I press on. "You've already redeemed yourself for Marzia. She just wanted you to make sure Felix was okay."

He shakes his head. "That's not enough for me." He insists, "That man didn't deserve to escape. It's him who should be dead."

He can't seriously be blaming the man's survival on himself. After all, the five of us survived.

"We're gonna kick his ass one day." I promise him, striding forward and giving the shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get all stocked up on cool stuff in the city, and then we'll go back personally to take him down." I make finger guns and start making exaggerated explosion noises, poking him in the shoulder.

"We don't know that-" he starts but I keep poking him, the explosions becoming more exaggerated.

"Pew." I mutter quietly, then I poke his cheek. "Pew Pew. Boom." As soon as the boom escapes me I throw my arms out, flailing my fingers and flicking his chin. It's ridiculous and its stupid, but right now I don't even mind.

He finally breaks down and laughs quietly. I grin when I see the half-smile break through and he rolls his eyes at me, swatting his hand through the air.

"You're so stupid." He mutters, but I know I've won him all the same.

"I can see your smile buddy, I know you want to. Team Phil-Dan will be a thing."

"Shut up," he groans, the smile fading. "You're so annoying."

I feel a nervous jump in my chest when his expression goes serious, heart sinking as I begin to wonder what I've said. These last few nights have been an unfair amount of highs and lows for him, I don't want to see this expression right now.

I make a frustrated sound and plunge my hands into the water, splashing him suddenly with a wave of icy droplets with all the force I can muster.

The reaction is immediate. He jerks back as if I've burned him and looks at me with angry, wide eyes. "You ass!" He shouts, glaring at me and backing away.

I can't hide my annoyance. "Stop being so sad about everything! Just enjoy the good things for once." I move forward threateningly and he moves to avoid me, sinking waist-deep in the water.

"You know what?" he challenges coldly."I don't think you get to tell me what to do."

"Come at me." I joke, splashing him again to his astonishment.

"Phil! I swear to god if you-"

"Come on and fight me, Danny."  I tease, flicking a smaller amount of water at him this time.

"STOP!" He shouts, barreling over and grabbing me by both wrists, stopping my hands from going under again. He holds on so tightly I finally back down and just gape at him, not even seeing a smile at my attempt at a joke.

My heart sinks for a terrible moment, thinking I've screwed up and I try to restrain him as he advances again, forcing me backwards as he towers over me, despite my being greater in height. I almost go to apologize to him, my comforting having gone completely wrong, at least until I look up and see his wicked grin.

"Challenge accepted, Philly."

He suddenly lunges at me, arms hooking around my waist and dragging me downward, and I let out a tiny shriek before we both hit the icy water with a splash. I'm dragged downward under his weight, bubbles flying everywhere and the sandy bottom grazing my back. He pushes himself off of me, wrestling against my counterattack and I shiver noticeably at how freezing it is. We're both struggling playfully until we surface again, spraying water in all directions and clinging on to each other's wrists, our faces inches apart as we're locked in battle.

"Fuck you." He says teasingly, and I laugh like it's a challenge. Relief is washing over me in tenfold, thankful that he's not actually angry at me. I send a splash of water in his direction and he retaliates with a doubly sized wave, before grabbing onto my arm again and trying to shove me back in the water. The ever-competitive Dan, just as he's always been.

I'm now under the assault of endless attacks, water hitting me in the face just as I am able to regain my vision. He's holding onto my arm so that I can't escape him, and it's only after we both stumble slightly that I mange to get back over him. I push against his chest and he pushes against mine, trying to shove the other one over and into the lake. I lift my head to look at him, actually afraid that he might just get the best of me, seeing how I'm clumsier.

His eyes meet mine in a grin and I lock my gaze on his brown irises, daring him to try and attack. I watch him retaliate by moving in nearer and so I do the same, his breath breezing over my face before I process what's happening and my own breath catches in my throat. My head begins to feel a little funny and my smile is gone at once.

Because he's so, so close to me.

I can see the freckles on the bridge of his nose and sprinkled across his bare chest. I can see the dip of his dimple, the details of his skin. He's smiling and he's laughing and he just looks so maddeningly beautiful. I feel a sudden urge to tackle him, to bring him right to his knees and say everything I've ever felt at once out of nowhere.

His face is open and happy, his lips parted and full just where I can see. It'd be a good time to do it. After all, we've survived through everything.

Tell him, my mind urges, our faces so close together I wouldn't have to do much more then lean over, I could pull him forward and bring our lips together easily. It wouldn't be that hard. I could tug him to me just like that and make the pain go away. Just tell him!

My grip on his wrist tightens a little and despite myself I pull him towards me, him mistaking it as not much more than a continuation of our little fight. I literally could. I could just kiss him. Just yank him forward, and then he'd know. He'd know then that I cared and he'd know that I love him. He'd never second-guess whether I'd leave him again. I could kiss him and it would be the best thing I ever-

No. No, what the hell?

I shake my head, snapping out of the chaos trying to take over my mind. I feel a wave of agitation and dig my fingernails into my skin painfully, trying not to scream in frustration at the way my emotions are being assaulted. Even when I'm freezing my ass off in a frigid lake my mind can't redirect itself because it's so easy. Loving him is so simple, but I know he doesn't love me back, not like this. What's wrong with me? This can't even be justified by our separation.

Why does it have to be romantic? There's no time for love and romance in a world like this. I have more important things to deal with,  keeping him alive being a prime example. There's absolutely no way I could just dive forward and do that, he'd be freaked out right out of his mind.

I find myself backing away frantically, my arms pushing him off and then splashing through the water to propel me backward. Dan takes no notice, unclasping his hands from my arms and rubbing them through his hair to shake out some of the water. He's mussing his up his curls, shaking his head to set them free. He's watching me out of the corner of his eye bemusedly, and I dive back under to hide my face.

Yeah, be all cute with your hands in your curls. That helps me out a lot.

The water is, obviously, still freezing. I shiver under the rippling translucent surface, Dan's face distorted and blurry above. I can't control anything I'm thinking, I don't know how to take it back. I see his pale form move towards me, and then suddenly his hand is on my wrist and he's yanking me out again.

I stumble and try to pull away from him, completely flustered just by his touch. My heart is hammering in my chest.

"Does this mean I win?" He teases, grabbing onto my other wrist for good measure.

But I'm not thinking about winning.

"W-what?" I stammer, noticing and then quickly working hard not to notice our proximity once again.

"Come on Phil. Just tell that I won."

"You win!" I squeak angrily, twisting away and then swimming into the deeper water until I can barely touch the bottom, standing on my tiptoes while he obliviously follows.

Does he really not notice at all? I'm sure it's pretty freaking obvious. I can't even keep this in my head right now. He better not try to grab me again, with my luck he'll probably magically find a way to read my mind.

"Woah, dramatic." He exclaims, a triumphant edge in his voice. He does just what I was terrified he'd do, approaching me steadily and stretching out his hand to poke me back. "Serves you right, I hope you're freezing right now."

I take a deep breath and frantically swim away from him, heading back towards shore now. I dodge his arm and move back to the shallows, sitting down in the sand and letting the water surround me. Only my head and shoulders are exposed, and now Dan is looking mildly confused. He swishes over and plops down next to me with a splash, making me cry out in surprise as cold water runs down one side of my face.

"Sorry." He says, sounding not very sorry at all. I do my best to meet his eyes and he smirks at me, totally misinterpreting my dumbstruck expression. I try to think of something clever to retort back at him, going to shove him back under for unknowingly causing me so much internal struggle because now Cat and Mark are staring, only looking away when they realize I can see their glances. I bet as soon as I look away they'll be staring right back again. But then I'm distracted by something silvery off to our left.

"Look Dan," I say quickly, pointing at the flashing bodies beneath the surface of the water. "There's a load of fish there."

He turns his head to look and I breathe a sigh of relief, glad not to have his attention on me right now. I cast a sideways glance at his pale figure, water droplets clinging to his skin and dripping from the ends of his hair. I'm glad to be able to look at him, will take the chance to do it whenever he can't tell. That's the only way I can deal with this, sadly enough.

I have to figure this out. At least control myself. Why can't I keep these feelings at bay?

It's ridiculous how something as simple as closeness can make my heart beat so quickly, make me flush like an idiot and forget how to speak. True, he's in his underwear right now, which certainly isn't helping me, but I wouldn't be surprised if this kind of moment hits me again. He has no idea that I'm in love with him. There's no one else I can tell who would understand. He's brash and stubborn and so adamant about his emotions that most people assume I'm just a really tolerant close friend, and he of course just thinks it's a miracle we managed to get close. But I am, I always have been and I always will be, likely, and I don't think anyone will ever get why. Who cares about explanations? He's Dan, that should be enough.

"They're all gathered in a school." Dan observes interestedly, craning his neck to look at them. "When was the last time we saw living animals?"

I blink, grounding myself and snapping to my senses. Sort of. His question does spark a rapt bit of fascination, wondering how long it's been indeed. "and why are they in such shallow water? They're so big."

"Go on then." I joke, "go look at them, maybe Wirrow can cook one."

Dan shudders visibly at the suggestion, making me laugh at such an out-of-place expression on his face. "No thank you." He mutters, though he does get up to take a closer look. "It may be an apocalypse, but I'm still against the idea of fish for breakfast."

Speaking of breakfast, we're good and washed now and Wirrow had said he was making food. I realize how hungry I am, the last meal I recall eating being whatever it was Dan and I had before going for that afternoon walk yesterday. I glance over at the fire even though no one has called us to eat, seeing Dan approach the group of fish like a kid at an aquarium. Slow, deliberate steps, not wanting to scare them away.

"Dare you to poke one." I call to him, smiling a little at my own notion. I don't know why I'm being so weird right now, I think it's just a side effect of not being able to think straight around him.

Quit being an idiot and remember he's your friend. I tell myself with a mental slap. There'll be a time and place for that later, or maybe never. Think about something else.

He doesn't answer and I frown, having hoped to at least get a response. I stand up, hearing water drip down from all over my body, moving over with clumsy steps to stand with him. He doesn't even acknowledge me at first, just leans forward towards the fish.

"They're not..." he murmurs and I look over his shoulder, getting a closer look myself. It's a school of fish that should not be in shallow water, some kind of bass or something, though my knowledge of fish is not that great. They're green but they have a metallic quality to their scales, but that's hardly the most interesting aspect about them. Because though there are a lot of them and we're so close by, they don't even seem to be reacting.

"-they're not moving." I finish. Looking down at them from a nearer proximity reveals how still they all are, in fact, I can't even see any eyes. They all have empty sockets, I notice some exposed ribcages and step back immediately, equal parts repulsed and disappointed.

"Oh, Dan. They're dead." I exclaim uncomfortably. A bit grossed out to be swimming in the same lake as a bunch of dead animals, I turn to get out, when Dan actually does reach down with an extended figure and poke one, watching it drift away for a moment-

Immediately upon his touch the mass suddenly comes alive, making my heart stop and churning up the water and snapping greenish mouths, some breaking the surface as they leap free at ridiculous speeds. They don't have eyes but they must be able to smell us in the water, because all at once they begin to swim our way.

There's barely even time for reaction. The creatures surge forward like bees, moving in to surround.

"Run! Run!" Dan shouts, pushing me even as I'm turning as we try to run towards the shore, the water holding us back by painfully slowing our steps.

Of course when we find fish they would be zombie fish. Like all the other monsters they are abnormal in how quickly they move, crowds of them swarming my ankles as I panic and try to kick them away. Dan shouts out in alarm and I see the three on shore looking up, dropping everything when they see the fear in our faces.

Every step I take sends up splashes of water, I barely even notice the burn in my legs as I push through with endurance I don't know I had.

I take the last gap at a sprint, lurching out of the water and seeing some fish still blindly follow until their bodies break out of the water and they suddenly lose their tracking mechanism, flopping uselessly until they manage to find deeper water again and disappear into the murky depths.

Dan reaches land just after me, we stumble onto the sand and I see our friends rushing to meet us, slightly confused but concerned nonetheless. I almost laugh a little at the stupidity of it all, having our swim end in such an unconventional way.

"What the hell." Mark spits as we gasp for breath, exhausted from the unexpected adrenaline.

I'm only able to shake my head and gesture to the last remaining zombies, trying to pursue us but getting stuck on the sand.

All seems okay until Dan hisses in pain and grabs my elbow for support, pressing a hand to the side of his left leg.

Immediately the laugh dies on my lips and I lurch forward with widened eyes.

"Dan?" Cat asks worriedly as I extend my arm to balance him. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He rubs the reddening area, his grip getting tighter as he falls slightly off-balance.

"No." He mumbles, pulling back his hand to reveal a mark. "One of the fucking fish. They bit me."