Brent hustled back with his group to those who stayed behind, "Hold the perimeter, I'll get the rest in, and the boy moving!"

Already, small groups of Rotters we're moving around towards them and more gunfire was heard from farther away. With a small splash, Brent sprinted through the sewers tunnel and broke out to the other side. Wheezing softly, he jogged the remainder of the way to those who mingled around the vehicles.

"It's time! We've got to get moving!" Brent shouted while he leaned against the fence, "Everyone let's go!"

A sudden jolt of excitement, and worry ran through the crowd as everyone realized that there was no delaying the rest of today. They moved, almost at once, to where Brent lead them.

"Stay in groups and keep moving once you meet up with them on the other side." Brent said as they headed into the sewer.

"God it stinks." Someone muttered, and another replied, "Rotters are worse."

Brent watched the last few come with Ethan on a makeshift stretcher, "How's he doing?"

A breathless sigh, "I give him an hour or two at most."

Brent nodded, not wanting to break the small feather of hope he held inside, "that's enough time for something."

~~~~~
One hour later:
~~~~~

"It's safe right?" Murmured Bree as they moved through a corridor engulfed by darkness.

Their flashlights casting long shadows across it as they moved forward, only twelve people had entered the building. More Rotters had continued to show, so they needed to be dealt with.

"This building? No, we're alone and it's not cleared." Micheal whispered back softly as they kept moving, "We just need to find his private researching area."

A moan soon erupted from the cloth covered figure behind them, prompting Micheal to speak again, "We've got forty minutes max before he dies, we are using borrowed time."

A flash of movement up ahead, and a gunshot before a Rotter fell, "Were not alone. Let's get moving."

The group shuffled faster down the hallway, just flashlights to illuminate their surroundings. Occasionally firing a shot as Rotters exited various rooms. Reaching stairs, traveling down, and down, further than they thought they should have had to go.

"Are you sure that it's this far down? I mean, we must be five levels below first floor." A breathless person said as they kept traveling down.

"Two more flights..." Micheal said, "It's his own floor, search for what I tell you to..."

"Whatever gets me out of here the fastest." Micheal couldn't help but chuckle at that as they reached the last floor.

A glass door with a keypad was all that stood at the bottom level. Micheal knew that the door was bulletproof, and that only Markus had the four digit code.

"Shit, I forgot about the code." Micheal said breathlessly as he leaned against the door.

Complaints filtered through the others as he took note of what was inside. A few lights flashed ominously in the room, and he could tell from them that there was a scattered array of tables that was accompanied by scattered papers.

"Plan B?" He asked half heartedly to the small group with him.

"Yes, actually." Was a reply before a man pushed his way to him, "Get the frame off."

Micheal shook his head at the thought, "Won't work, it's hinges are on the inside, and the door is bulletproof."

The man smiled, and shook his head, "Not the doors frame, the number-pad's frame. Those lights are on meaning this level must have a back up generator. Might be some juice running through the wires still."

A small silence went over the group before being interrupted by a sudden cry of pain from Ethan. The group rushed forward and started working the frame off.

~~~~~~~~

Markus took a leisurely pace down the desolate street. Side stepping the the corpses littering the ground as he traveled towards the sounds of gunfire. It was only a few more blocks before a team of soldiers joined him on his trip.

"Sir! We've pinpointed there location to a research facility." The soldier then saluted before continuing, "They are holding the building, but don't appear to be entering it. Intel believes they have a group clearing it out while they keep the undead at bay."

Markus smirked at the soldier, and kept walking; leaving an overly long silence before speaking to him, "Tell the men that we are to hold outside of their visual, and not to attract the undead to us."

"Yes sir." Was the only response.

Markus spoke again before the soldier touched his radio, "Hold your position here, all of you, I will push them alone."

"Sir?" A corporal asked hesitantly, clearing wanting an explanation.

"Don't disobey my orders, soldier. You are aware that martial law is in affect, and I AM the highest ranking officer confirmed alive?" Markus didn't bother to add that he also killed the person who used to wear this uniform.

"Yes... Sir." A mumbled response before the squad broke into a house and stationed themselves.

Markus sighed exasperatedly before checking his rifle over. Maybe this time he'd do things right, but he didn't want anyone to mess it up. Best to do it yourself, he thought; mentally reprimanding himself for sending people to do his work.

~~~~~~~

"It's a go either way! He's seizing!" Someone shouted as five people stood crowded around a table and various objects.

Micheal quickly, but calmly, took a syringe, and injected it into Ethan's neck, "We've got five minutes until he seizes again. I want you to make sure this process is thought out correctly."

Everyone nodded, already having gone over it five times in the last twenty. Then a string of gunshots entered the room quickly followed by a few screams. Micheal dropped to the floor, hidden behind a desk as he watched everyone else get shot.

His eyes were wide, and his breathing suddenly sped up as he saw blood slowly pool towards his boots. Apparently not everyone was dead as he heard gunshots before the rifle went off. It followed with a body dropping and the click of an empty magazine.

The room was deathly silent as Micheal listened, almost jumping in fright when he heard something clatter to the ground. The sound of the gun being reloaded scared him worse than it should have.

"The room is secure, the patient is here as promised. Moving to end game." Markus spoke into the radio as he glanced across the room.

He walked forward slowly, looking around at the bodies that now lie on the floor in pools of their own blood. He aimed at the closest body, shooting the head just to make sure.

"If only Ethan was awake so I could see his face." Markus chuckled softly at that thought.

Meanwhile, Micheal sat pressed against the desk, his pistol clutched tightly in his hands as he heard another shot go off closer than the first one. A few more echoed steps and another gunshot in the near silent room.

Ethan's arm twitched, and Micheal realized five minutes had passed already. Markus noticed it too, and started walking swiftly over to it. His legs came into Micheals view as he leaned over Ethan's body. Micheal didn't dare move as he watched Markus set his gun down.

"You were supposed to be the cure you know..." a pause before he sighed longingly at distant thoughts, "Not a mutation."

Markus ran a hand over his sons face as he brushed his hair back. His hands came back sweaty and he frowned a little. That's odd, he was supposed to be dead by now. He shook the feeling away as he unholstered his pistol.

Micheal slowly pulled himself out of the cramped confines of the desk, warily watching to see if Markus would see or hear him. He watched as his hand brushed along Ethan's face, and then unholstered his gun. Micheal frowned and then pressed his pistol to the back of Markus's head. Markus tensed when he felt the barrel press against his head.

"Put the gun down Markus." A small silent threat in the very silent rom.

Markus kept the gun at his side as Ethan twitched again, "Your voice sounds familiar, do I know you?"

"You should." Micheal scowled at the man, knowing he couldn't see it, "Considering that your wearing my uniform."

"That man is dead." Said Markus as he glanced down at the gun in his hand.

"I had a vest on, and you used a rusty old pea shooter. Drop the gun." Micheal spoke softly while glancing to Ethan, "You really did me a favor here to be honest. All the hard work is done."

Markus dropped the gun at that statement, and for his life, "What are you saying."

A chuckle came as a reply, "Anything to get you to drop-"

Markus swung his head backwards; surprisingly not getting shot as Michael discharged a round. With a quick motion Micheal had Markus pinned to the desk with his arm twisted behind him.

"Not so fast are you?" Micheal criticized his hasty actions.

"Shut up." Markus said back before removing a knife with his free hand, and hiding it by his side.

Micheal didn't see it, but felt is as it dug it's way into his leg. He let go of his arm, and found himself kicked backwards into the table where Ethan lay. Micheal managed a grunt before pulling the knife out.

Before he could get up or use it; Markus drove his fist into his face. The knife clattered away as Micheal tried to protect himself from the blows. A few more before Micheal kicked Markus in the knee, causing him to crumple to the ground.

Micheal rolled to his side and looked around blindly for the knife, but saw Markus already picking it up. Micheal pulled himself up using the table, and barely managed to keep the knife out of his flesh as Markus tackled him.

Both men hit the ground as they fought to kill the other. Micheal pinned under Markus's big frame as he tried to hold the knife from entering his chest. The tile pressed against the fabric of his shirt before Micheal managed to force the knife up and away. The knife grazed his chin, and split it open, letting a well of blood start to run free. He kept in a grimace as Markus regained control of the knife once more.

"Just die this time." Markus spat in his face and then forced his weight onto the hilt.

Micheals eyes seemed to bulge out of his sockets as he felt the knife puncture his chest, stopping only from hitting a rib. His mouth opened but nothing came out as he tried harder to force Markus off of him.

Another slam and then Micheal screamed as pain erupted. His bone had broke under the weight of the Bowie knife and Markus's thrusts. His face became white as he one last thrust forced the knife into his chest where he lay there in a silent cry. A small jerk and the knife came out, a small spray of blood following its escape.

Markus stood up and stared at the dead man, "Should have gone for the head when I had the chance."

He spat on his body before he heard a gun go off. He froze and turned around, not registering what he saw before him. Ethan standing, a gun in his shaking hand, and a partially dead expression on his face. Markus looked down to see a circle of red on his chest, and he touched it with his hand.

"No." He spoke before another bullet silenced him for good.

Ethan stared at the two dead men, then at himself. He should be dead, he thought, but he wasn't. Then, one word, or name, crossed his mind.

"Charles..." he whispered softly as he looked around in dismay, "H-he can't be... not again..."