The fourth of five parts. Contains OCs.

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction. Everything on this site is fanwork of fictional variety. Therefore, Left 4 Dead is not mine.

If it was, there would be flamethrowers around every corner and chainsaws in every toilet. (It happened once. I'm in love.)

Live.

Come on, old girl, live.

She felt a large, warm hand caress her cheek. Thick fingers ran delicately over her lips, pausing there for a moment before the voice returned, loud and insistent in the confines of her head.

Get up, Beth, you can do it. Breathe.

On command, she sucked air into her lungs, the oxygen restoring the familiar feeling of warmth in her limbs and delivering a sharp stab of pain to the back of her head. Slowly, feeling a familiar ache settle softly into her bones, she reached up to rub the tender spot. After registering that it was indeed her head that ached the most, she propped her hands beside her and began to push up slowly.

"Alright, I'm up..." She rasped aloud to no one.

She lifted her head, dragging herself to her feet by hooking her arms on the counter above. Tired green eyes took in the scene before her with a frown.

The once sunlight-filled room was a mess. Glass and metal strewn about everywhere, the walls of her building sporting large, open holes from where her merchandise literately flew out the window. Fluorescent lights dangled dangerously from wires attached to the ceiling. She gave the counter bracing her figure another push, straightening out her sore back and renewing the sharp pain in her skull as she whacked her head off something hanging behind her.

Ah, so that's how she wound up on the floor.

The light had disconnected from the ceiling amidst the rumbles and roars of an approaching monster, and knocked her out cold when it smashed into her cranium. She clicked her tongue between her teeth, shaking her head as she leaned heavily on the granite counter. With a disappointed sigh, she accepted that there was nothing to be salvaged in this mess, the only vehicle remaining was half-lodged in a cement well over to her right.

It had once been an impressive showroom of high-quality, stylish cars. The walls were mostly glass to let in light on good days, the lot once filled with less-expensive and more weather-endurant cars to be sold to those a little tighter on cash. Now, only one car remained and it was useless, certainly to her and to anyone else she may have wanted to sell it to.

It had been a quite day before the crowd of people had rushed her building with eager cries. An excited employee had rushed to open the doors, ignorant to the warning shouts of those far more cautious who stood behind the counter. He'd been lost under the fists and feet of the mob as they flooded the building with the rapidity of a bleeding wound. As the crowd had moved to take down the others in the establishment, a distinct rumble had shook the very walls. A distant roar ent shivers down the spines of the survivors, then blackness had seized the elder's vision and driven her to the ground.

Now she stood in the wreckage of what had once been a reliable source of income. Now it was nothing more than an empty, run-down building that supported dust and rubble as its natural resources.

In any other situation, the woman would've brushed off the sight with a sigh and simply shrug. She had others.

But she also had no doubt in the world that any other establishment like this one was just as bad off, if not worse. There would be no further money to be made in the near future. Instead, she was stuck alone in an empty showroom with half a vehicle to her name.

Well...not quite.

If years and years clawing up the ladder as a successful businesswomen had taught her anything, it was to keep the best for herself.

With this in mind, she stretched out her aged, stiff joints as best she could, using the counter for support as she limped her way to the once-white door that read "Staff Only," in bold letters. She turned the knob and pushed her way inside, only to quickly shut it and turn away, pressing her back to the wooden door and holding her breath.

After a moment, she retched in disgust, stomaching heaving but having nothing to spill on the floor.

When the nausea had passed, she straightened herself out and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

Lord, this just complicated things.

Inside was a monster. A creature that had once been human, but now was not. She'd seen one briefly before, it had come dashing into her establishment shrieking at a spine-chilling volume. Now, the creature hunched over another body. She had only barely seen its bloody face, partially obscured by a dark hood as it tore into the poor soul pinned beneath it. She had barely been able to distinguish the corpse as long dead before the sight and stench of decay had driven her to shut the door.

But, she still needed inside. She needed to pass that beast, without suffering a fate similar to that of the unrecognizable body below it.

As she thought, she came to the realization that the sounds of tearing flesh and quiet snarls had died away. Now there came a steady, low growling from the other side of the door. Her heart began to beat painfully fast in her chest, her lungs seeming to expand in panic and press harshly against her ribs. She swallowed a cough, only to regret even bothering as the door against her back shook violently.

A feral snarl passed through the wood, louder this time before the door shook in it's hinges again.

She pushed herself off it, stumbling away as she watched it shake under the weight once more. Breathing heavily, she waited for another thump, mind racing as she tried to imagine what she could do to fight it. The creature lay between her and her only gun.

But the thing didn't seem to be set on giving her too much time to plan. In an unexpected, rapid application of force, the door finally gave out and slammed to the ground. The breeze the fall kicked up dust, debris and ash into the air, obscuring the now open room in a dark haze.

She began to back away slowly.

That growling returned, much louder now that it no longer had to travel through solid wood to reach her ears. Her muscles were tensed to flee when it stopped for a moment, only to be quickly followed by a loud shriek as a dark shape hurtled through the dust and straight at her.

The woman barely had time to weave out of the way, the creature coming in solid contact with the floor, skidding awkwardly across the smooth surface, unable to find grip on its outstretched claws. She seized the opportunity to take off back towards the door, only to find her escape cut off once more by the creature. It had grasped the concept of using the palms of its hands to travel across the smooth floor and propelled itself back in front of the door, cutting off the exit the woman had decided to take.

Without thinking, she turned an ran.

She was not a very fast runner, though she had been in her youth. Her speed in old age, however, paled in comparison to the infection-boosted speed of the much younger beast behind her. However, she hadn't intended to escape, only to get far enough along the wall in order to grab a heavy red object off it's mount.

Her fingers only grazed it, but it was enough. The thing fell unceremoniously out of it's fastening, accompanying both her and the creature that had thrown itself onto her back to the ground.

She barely managed to twist herself around before her back hit the floor. The boy's weight was on her in the next instant. She felt claws digging into her shoulder, pulling harshly. The agonizing sound of ripping flesh motivated her to move. Her stubby fingers curled around the metal handle, just as the clawed fingers of the creature curled around her throat. She could feel the pressure in slow motion as he began to pull, but for once: she was faster.

She brought that fire extinguisher up fast and hard, smacking the creature solidly in the side of the head. It let out a startled yelp and went rolling off her. The woman managed to find her feet just in time to swing the extinguisher once more as the hunter sprang again. This time, she could hear bones crunch under the force of her swing and the thing fell lifeless to the floor.

Panting, cursing, struggling to breathe, the woman barely noticed the burning pain of her shoulder as she staggered back over to the door. She never released her death-grip on the fire extinguisher. At least, not until she'd passed by the rotting corpse of the hunter's previous victim. Not until she stumbled up to a large oak door that stood out against the white walls, a gold nameplate shining still, despite the dismal atmosphere:

Elizabeth M. Jones.

Her name. Her office.

She punched a code into the keypad below the door and stumbled inside, slamming the heavy door behind her with more force than she believe to still have in her. When she was safe and secure inside the windowless room, she let herself exhale loudly, slumping against the wall as she fell into a sitting position.

She let out a loud moan as the burning in her arm finally reached her head.

Eliza bit her lip to silence herself, only to have whimpers escape from her throat. Motivated by pain, she rose and stumbled to her desk across the room, fumbling quickly inside the drawers. She pulled out a metal case in the very bottom drawer, one labeled with a familiar red mark.

She fished around inside, pulling off her bloody blouse with her good arm as she began to tick off the things she'd need for first aid. For the longest time, she convinced herself not to look at the damage, having a feeling it would be irreversible. But she knew, as she idly rummaged through the contents of the case, that she would have to face the wound for what it was, just as she would for the world.

At least an hour later, she still sat in her chair. This time, her shoulder was securely bandaged in thick gauze, her blouse having been pulled back over her injury in light of nothing else to wear. Her head was buried in her hands, hair gripped tightly between her fingers as she stared hard into her desk.

In all her years...in all her decades...she'd never faced a challenge so large. Never had she been so scared of what lay outside her office door, of what the next day would bring her. She'd always been curious, but now fear kept her rooted in place. The AK-47 she'd kept under her desk for emergency cases now lay untouched on the surface.

Eliza knew she would eventually have to move, but it was so hard to motivate her muscles to move, to banish that fear from her mind.

Thoughts instantly flew to her daughter and her grandchildren. She had failed to keep in contact with her only child, as they'd fallen out of touch after the death of Eliza's husband. Peter had been the glue keeping their family together, holding tight even as the two ambitious women would butt heads and bicker. It never got serious, as the male of the family would step in and sort out the things that the two hot-headed women were too short-tempered to think about.

When he'd died, the glue had dried out, the bindings had come undone.

Their first fight since his death had been their largest and about something trivial that only seemed to escalate as they continued. The way they resolved the conflict is by separating. Eliza stayed in Grenada, as most of her most successful business chains were located there, while her daughter fled to the coast.

From then, she occasionally got a postcard, a picture and a letter explaining how things were. She'd met both her grandchildren on the day they were each born, but had failed to set up any more in-depth meetings than the semi-annual phone call or video chat.

Regardless, she loved them all dearly. Even that stubborn, hard-headed daughter of hers that was so much like her. She had just been unable to swallow her pride and ask to make amends with her kin. The young family was a heavy presence on her brain as she shook and without realizing it, silently wept at her desk.

When the tears had formed a dark pool on the wood below, she snapped back into reality. She blinked the rest of the moisture from her eyes, tightly clamping her lips together to stop their trembling. She reached for her gun, dragging it towards her with a resolute frown.

She had to keep moving. If not for herself, simply for the peace seeing her young relatives would bring her. In order to see them, she had to move. She had to get to Florida. Orlando. She had to move.

Standing slowly, the woman grabbed her gun and dragged it off the desk as she moved around it. Crossing the room, she paused in the middle, catching her reflection in the mirror off to her right. Aging had been kind to her, but she had never looked so old in her life.

Dark bags circled her eyes, accenting the normally subtle wrinkles that decorated her face. Her normally perfect, snow-white hair was sticking out wildly in all directions. Without thinking, she lifted a hand to smooth it down, only to smear blood into the flawless colour. Cursing her impulse, she sighed, habitually straightening her pink blouse on her torso.

A grim thought told her this would probably be the last time for a long time she would ever look so good.

The second time he came around, his awakening was far less pleasant than the first. Pain shot up his left arm, not too sharp, but with enough of a stab to make him draw in a sharp breath. Firm hands holding his forearm slackened their grip slightly, only to tighten once again when he tried to pull his limb back towards his body. A low, stern voice cut through the haze of semi-consciousness and commanded his cooperation.

"Quit moving," it asked in a soft tone, though the order rang clear in those words. Just to be nasty, Luka opened his eyes, narrowing them as soon as he could see clearly and giving him arm a harsh tug. Unfortunately, this backfired severely on him. Pain shot through his wrist, that grip refusing to relinquish as something dragged harshly across his forearm. "I tried to warn you."

"Shut up, Soldier Boy, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Luka yanked at his arm again, this time internally grateful that the man siting at his side released him. He stifled a yawn and brought his arm close to his chest, cradling his wrist lightly in a hand to observe what had caused him such sudden pain.

White bandage remained loose around his arm, just barely concealing the scabbed-over appearance of what must've once been a nasty gash. The skin surrounding the closing wound was slick and shone, some sort of ointment having been applied. The soldier watched the blonde examine his arm for a moment, before letting his voice cut into the silence.

"I was trying to help you."

"I don't need your help," Luka's bitter response was met with a level, unreadable stare.

"Of course." The worker listened for sarcasm, a little surprised to hear none. Feeling a little awkward for an inexplicable reason, he began to re-wind the bandage around his arm himself, fastening it down with an unintelligible grumble. He flexed his arm to test the strength and resulting pain, pleased to find that most of the pain earlier had just been from the shock. It didn't actually hurt that much, he was just sore and exhausted.

"Brian, right?" Flicking his blue stare to the soldier at his side, Luka quickly veered the subject far away from the fact that he'd been helped more times than he could count in the past 24 hours, if it had even been that long.

Brian nodded, scooting back a little to give the younger man his space. A frown graced his features for a moment, before he let out another sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Yeah, Luka."

"How'd you-"

"Anna told me."

"Right." At the mention of the Mexican, (he'd decided that would be her nickname, regardless of her actual heritage) Luka found himself scanning the small room for her petite form. He found it tucked into the corner. She was so tightly curled up into a ball she looked far younger than he knew her to be. Her head was buried somewhere underneath her arms, which tightly clung to the soldier's camouflaged jacket. He didn't miss the way those thin limbs shivered ever so slightly.

Odd. It wasn't cold in here at all. He could feel the stuffiness in the air.

"So, I hear you were the one to drag me halfway across Grenada." Again, Luka applied a force to the conversation, trying to steer it towards things he wanted to discuss, and away from subjects he was trying to avoid. He could care less about what Brian wanted to talk about, he just needed to run his mouth, ease himself into the smooth, cunning individual he knew himself to be.

"Drag? Hah, if only it had been that easy. Regardless, it was only a few kilometres or so, not that far." Brian waved a hand dismissively, not realizing the calculative stare he was being given was not a kind one.

"Kilometres?" echoed Luka, something slowly beginning to dawn on him. His eyes carefully scanned what was left of the uniform on the soldier. Unfortunately, his appearance told him little. He was a well-built man, maybe a little smaller than Luka himself but roughly the same height. Short, messy black hair fell in front of sharp blue eyes. With light camouflage cargo pants matching his missing jacket and a pair of dog tags to boot, Luka had to assume his nickname wasn't far from the truth. The build, the uniform and the expert application of limited medical supplies to his arm...Brian definitely seemed to be a soldier, however, the piece of the elder man that would answer his yet-to-be-spoken question was firmly clutched in the girl's arms.

He would just have to be normal and ask.

"You're not American, are you?"

"No sir, I'm not." As if to remind himself, the man lifted a hand to lightly finger his dog tags with a soft smile, giving the floor a distant stare.

Luka rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"I'm gonna take a shot in the dark 'n say you're a Kanuck, right?"

"Canadian, yes." That stare fixed on him, flashing with a bitter look before returning to normal. He clearly expected Luka to say something more. When he didn't, he took in a breath in defense; "Why, do you have a problem with that?"

"No, no, not really. Just wondering."

"Oh," Brain sounded weary, untrusting, "Well...alright."

"'Cause now I can say I've met a mountie!" Luka's expression broke out into a mocking grin, "Though you're lacking in a bright red coat, a horse and I've yet to hear an 'Eh?' out of you yet, so I suppose you're pretty shitty as far as Canadians go."

Brian's frown became evident as he huffed, giving his eyes a roll as Luka had done minutes before.

"First off, I'm a marine, not a mountie. Secondly, if all you know about Canadians is narrow-minded stereotypes, I feel sorry for you."

"Oh sure. I feel sorry for you too, you know? You're stranded in a different country, all your friends and family up in the frozen north, you don't know if they're still alive, they probably don't know if you are either. To add to that, even if they are alive up there, they certainly run the risk of death considering how fucked up the world is right now, just like if I were to toss you out of this room, you'd run just as big of a risk as dying as any of them."

The soldier's expression was sour as Luka finished his provocative rant. Instead of rewarding him with a large reaction, he simply shrugged and said,

"You're no different."

"Yes. Yes I am. I'm American." He deliberately paused after this, letting a lengthy silence swirl about the room as if that was all he need to say to prove himself. He waited until the soldier's frown had deepened significantly before continuing. "Besides, my friends and family were on a few of the first choppers out of here. I watched them go." A bluff, but it was delivered so expertly, he himself would've bought it if he didn't already know the truth. Whether or not Brian did remained uncertain, as he'd fixed the younger man with a curious stare.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" The worker feigned innocence with a smile.

"That. I've done nothing but help you since the moment we met and you're purposefully trying to get a rise out of me."

"'Nothing but help me?'" A bitter laugh assaulted the air, making the girl in the corner stirr. "Dude, you had me at gunpoint with a rifle. How it that helping?"

"It was a self-inflicted situation. I have no doubt that you were just trying to get a rise out of us then, just as you are now. Why?"

This time, Luka shrugged.

"It's what I do."

"To hide your fear?"

"No," Luka snapped, "to keep me entertained. I bore easily."

The blonde tried to return the stern look he received with a carefree one of his own, but he couldn't stop himself from glaring, even if only slightly.

"Alright, alright." Brian held up his hands as if in surrender -though to what, even Luka didn't quite know- and slowly went to rise. Instead of confronting him further, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down to the blonde with a relatively relaxed expression. "Is your arm feeling okay?"

"Just dandy, soldier-boy."

Instead of responding, Brian turned and moved near silently over to the corner where Anna lay, curled into a tight ball. He stooped down, withdrew his hands from his pockets and gave the girl a gentle nudge. When his hand came in contact with her bare arm, his eyes widened.

"She's cold," he commented to no one.

Luka said nothing, simply watching. Absently, he commented to himself that his head hurt.

It really hurt.

He shook her again, a little stronger now. When she didn't move, he heard the soldier mutter something, tone laced with worry though what he'd said was not clear at all. His hand wormed his way into the protective crown her arms formed over her head. Luka had a feeling he was checking for a pulse, judging by the concerned frown on his face.

He was silent for a long while, hand shifting occasionally in the mess of arms and fabric.

Luka suddenly saw him let out a long sigh, pulling his arm away slowly and shaking his head. He pulled the jacket the girl had been gripping tightly, and the blonde watched as large hands pulled the fabric away from arms that no longer clung with such force. They fell lifelessly to the floor.

Luka blinked, a sudden pain in the back of his head as he continued to watch, the man reaching out to gently pet the girl's head. He tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear before pulling his jacket back over his shoulders with a troubled frown.

"She's dead."

Luka felt the air leave him, unable to explain why.

"She's what?"

She was fine a few minutes ago!

"Dead, Luka." Brian barely glanced over his shoulder to the baffled blonde, his words blunt and heavy.

"How?"

The soldier shrugged.

"She was weak."

"She-!" He almost went to correct him, stopping himself just in time. Luka didn't press much more, unsure as to how he should react to this now that arguing was out of the question. He didn't know the girl well, and his only interactions with her had been mocking. But still, she'd helped get him here, and was partially the reason he was still alive. So, in a sense, had she given her life in exchange for saving his?

That was wrong.

Not him.

This was wrong.

He shook his head quickly.

Wake up.

The pain vanished.

"Luka?"

He blinked, that voice suddenly much louder and piercing than it had been for the delivering of heavy news. His mind felt fuzzy, so he shook his head to clear it.

"You okay?" The soldier turned to him. Where was his jacket?

Back in her hands.

The fuck?

"I'm...fine?" He was unable to keep the statement from turning into a question. He was stared at a moment longer, before the soldier shrugged absently and went back to shaking the girl. Luka found himself staring baffled, his mind once again a jumbled of thoughts.

"Anna, wake up." Brian pressed, as if he hadn't just confessed to her passing.

"The hell?"

"Anna, come on. Get up."

Luka was tempted to get up himself – and kick Brian in the back. He didn't know why he didn't do so, only able to blame the sudden a heavy haze on his brain as he watched.

Watched as he continued to nudge her softly.

Watched as he called her name.

Watched as she answered.

Watched as she slowly pushed herself upright.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Luka said out loud, pressing a hand to his forehead. Both people in the room turned to look at him blankly, confused as to his sudden and panicked outburst. Anna narrowed her eyes, and without missing a beat, responded.

"Well, you're bitter, ungrateful, racist and an asshole."

He could only stare.

"We need to get moving."

Luka sat, facing inwards to the little triangle they'd formed, sitting on the floor. He'd forced himself to conclude that he'd only imagined the entire 'Anna being dead' thing, and that she really was okay and sitting just to his left. His only problem with accepting this was that the whole thing had felt so real and had been so seamless. He hadn't fallen asleep, or been knocked out cold. Nothing had looked any different. Just one minute, she was dead, the next: she was insulting him.

Now, they'd seated themselves by the door, facing one another as they talked. Brian had automatically assumed leadership, being the oldest of the group. Luka didn't care enough to interject yet. Anna looked up to the man enough to respect his judgement, even if she'd only known him for a short while.

As she sat, she shivered and clung to her legs. She still wore Brian's jacket over her shoulders, but it didn't seem to be helping her quivering at all. While the soldier often shot her a worried look, Luka pretended to be indifferent. He barely gave a sign that he noticed her shaking.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Luka's bitter response was ignored. The pair seemed to be a building a steady tolerance for his snide remarks.

"They say New Orleans is still running a lot of large-scale, successful evacs," Brain continued, "I think we should start heading in that direction."

"But that's two cities away, is it not?" Despite being Mexican -Spanish- Anna seemed to have a decent understanding of the surrounding cities. New Orleans wasn't impossibly far, but it was quite the distance.

"We'll find some form of transportation."

"Like a Jet plane?"

Luka's quip was ignored as usual.

"There's tons of cars around, we just have to find a working one."

Anna shook her head quickly, firmly.

"No. No. I would much rather walk than chance alerting every brain-dead citizen of Grenada with a car alarm. Or Sirens. Or...anything...really. I'd much rather go quietly."

"We are not walking all the way to New Orleans," the blonde shot a firm glare at the girl, refusing to be budged on that matter. He was a built man, but he was not cut out for cross-country hiking.

"I never said we had to walk," Anna held up her hands in surrender after seeing Brian nod slowly in agreement, "just...I'd much rather our transportation be more reliable."

"That is a pretty sound request. We don't have too much more ammo between us, we can't waste it."

"So what?" Luka huffed, putting on a front of frustration. "Are we going to just walk until we can flag down a taxi?"

"They are still running?"

"No, Anna, he was kidding." Brian sighed, running a hand through dark locks as they thought. He had taken it upon himself to somehow ensure the well being of the pair sitting before him. Anna was young, innocent, anything but helpless and eager to follow someone who pretended to know what he was doing. Luka was ungrateful, undeserving and extremely hard to put up with, but the soldier felt as if he had no desire to carry to burden of leadership yet did not really want to be left alone.

So, while he didn't call himself the 'leader,' he settled on the term 'guide.' He just had to figure out where he was guiding them to. With a thoughtful frown, his gaze drifted to the blonde, who sat cross-legged on the floor. His large frame was curled over the shotgun in his lap, elbows resting on his knees and supporting a bored expression by the chin. Anna was trying to make herself as compact as possible to fit under the peacekeeper's jacket. He hadn't missed her shivers, but had failed to truly come up with an occasion to properly address them.

Until now, that is, when the conversation had ground to an uncertain halt.

"Are you alright?" He asked, turning a blue-eyed stare to the foreign girl, who instantly tried to contain her shivering. He was unable to hide a cautious frown, refusing to beleive the girl thought she had gone unnoticed. "You've been shivering like that for hours."

"It's just cold in here."

"No it 'aint." For once, Brian was glad for Luka's blunt statement. It was an honest one, at that. Luka's grime-covered waterproof jacket and green hard hat had been ditched to lay in a corner somewhere. His broad, muscled chest was now covered soully by a well-fitting navy t-shirt, and a wild head of blonde hair was slowly beginning to break the mould of hat hair. With the loss of excess clothes, the pair of them could still see a dampness about the man's hairline. He was sweating.

Brain himself was no cooler.

Yet Anna claimed to be cold.

"I'm just..." Anna paused, wondering if the truth was even worth sharing, "really, really hungry."

Luka snorted, the sound leading a bitter laugh from the man.

"Join the club, Mexican."

"Luka, she's probably not even half your size."

"So?"

"So. She probably eats half as much as you do."

"So you're saying I should be the one craving full-fat macaroni and cheese?"

"No, I'm saying she's got less to run on. When was the last time you ate, Anna?"

"Uh...two nights ago?" Anna looked at her feet as she shuffled awkwardly. She had been trying to avoid bringing this self-proclaimed unimportant issue to light. "I didn't have breakfast yesterday, and never got a chance to eat when...well, you know."

"Shit, woman. Feed yourself," grunted Luka.

"With what?" Anna shot back.

Unable to keep a lecherous grin from stretching across his face, Luka decided to keep his suggestion to himself.

"She does have a point," rushed Brian, quickly trying to steer the conversation away from where Luka was tempted to take it, "I last ate yesterday before coming into town, I'll be feeling similar hunger pains soon. We can't function on nothing. We need to find provisions." He paused, flicking his gaze from the inexpressive Luka to the wide-eyed Anna. "Provisions that can't be found in a closet."

"About that, is this seriously a closet?" Luka straightened out to look at the small room one more time, frowning at the proximity of all four walls.

"It's a pantry. We're in a cellar," Brain said, motioning to the door, "beyond that is stairs."

"Oh, well, why here?"

"The door locked, the cellar looked safe and the house was on fire," Anna said in a surprisingly flat tone, managing to hold in her shivering long enough to speak.

"That, and you were getting heavy. We couldn't be picky."

"Right."

There was another pause as the three of them equally considered what to do next. Brian was, as usual, the first to break the brief quiet with a pressing question.

"Anna, how well do you know the city?"

She shrugged.

"I've only been here a few months. I really haven't been that far in..."

"Luka?"

"Shit, I'm a local."

"Alright, where's the nearest grocery store?"

The soldier jumped in surprise at the harsh laugh that answered him.

"The nearest grocery?" Luka echoed. He shook his head, sly smile implying he felt as if he was talking to a slow-witted youth. "Buddy, I have no fuckin' clue where we are aside from in an underground closet. How on earth am I supposed to direct you anywhere from under the middle of nowhere?"

Brian frowned, but couldn't argue. The guy was a jerk, but he was right and only being honest in his own brutal way.

"So, if we pack up and get moving, do you think you can find us something?" The soldier was unable to keep the desperation out of his voice. Up until now, he'd been in charge, the man with answers. But he had to eventually face reality: he was more of a foreigner than the Spanish girl beside him. He was only here visiting, and the only reason he'd even been able to get here in the first place was due to written directions and the frequent use of a map. He'd never been this far south in his life. He now had to put the control in the hands of someone who seemed to barely understand the concept of self-control.

"I can find something, for sure. Can't guarantee what, though, depends on my mood. Personally, I'm feelin' like a cold one."

"You are a cold one, and you're going to be 'feelin' like shit unless you help us and stop being such a dick!" Anna snapped, thin patience, fatigue and hunger driving her quickly over the edge. She seized her pistol and pointed it at the man with a growl. This time, safety was off. There was no uncertain shake in the way she held the gun.

She was fed up.

"Can't help it, Mexican."

"Well learn to!"

Brian surprised himself in being unable to interrupt. He would if it got dangerous, but there was nothing the girl was saying that he didn't agree with.

"You're ungrateful for everything we've done for you, right down to dragging you out of the burning car, carrying you across the city and nursing you back to your pathetic, jerkish self!"

Luka's confident grin died just a little, replaced with a look of thoughtfulness as the girl continued.

"It would be so much easier for me to pull the trigger and walk away from your corpse than put up with your bitter, uncooperative person until we get rescued, if we get rescued at all!" Anna paused, red faced, to breathe. But she was not quite done, not yet. "But don't get me wrong, Luka," she spat his name out in rage, "I want to live long enough to give my damn best effort, and I'm not about to let some conceited asshole ruin my chances for survival!"

Tears pricked at her eyes as she gasped, anger undoing the tight bindings that had kept her together. Luka chanced a quick gaze to the soldier, sitting quietly to the side. He had noticed the peacekeeper's failure to do the job his title insinuated, and could only conclude that he simply felt no need to keep the peace anymore. It seemed as if the worker had worn out his welcome.

"So, if you're going to insist to treat oursurvival like a joke, I'm going to laugh as hard as I possibly can when I end any chance for your own!" Tears streamed down her face now, though no sobs accompanied them. Luka felt floored by the raw emotion she displayed, unable to silence her. "Please grow up enough to pick your sorry ass off the floor before I shoot it, get your shit together and march, moron!"

Finally, she breathed deeply, sucking in air in an ungraceful gasp. She shook violently, lower lip trembling as the tears continued to fall. Both men could only stare as the teen finally let the weapon shake in her hands. She pulled it close to her chest, shrugged off the jacket on her shoulders and stood. Luka was surprised the girl did not topple over as she turned on her heel and walked to the door, shaking uncontrollably as she opened it and began to trudge forcefully up the stairs.

The cellar doors slammed shut behind her, aided partially by gravity as she threw them down. The noise must've drawn the attention of some nearby lost souls, for moments after the males could hear gunshots being fired. But they were not rapid and paniced, but precise, patient and even.

Brian slowly tore his gaze from the door, letting in fall to the younger man in silence. Under that unreadable stare, Luka absorbed some of the anger the girl had left in the room, turning it around and to the peacekeeper who'd failed to defend him and keep the peace. He just didn't understand that he'd used up any rights he had to the man's protection long ago. He'd yet to come to the realization that even as the world ended, there were still consequences to his actions.

"Fuck, Soldier-boy, do you want to tear me a new one too?" He snapped, narrowing his eyes dangerously as his fists clenched at his sides.

The soldier frowned, shook his head and rose, collecting his sniper from where it leaned against the wall, picked his jacket off the floor and moved to follow, but not without calling faintly behind him.

"We're going. You can decide if that 'we' includes you."

And he was gone.

Luka swore loudly as the cellar doors shut behind the soldier, leaving him alone on the concrete floor. He burned with shame, feeling like a scolded child as he sat in a make-shift 'time out'. Instinct made him want to chase after that bitch and throttle her, unused to that kind of behaviour coming from someone else's mouth. His mind swelled with a dark feeling rage and revenge, but his heart had sunk in his breast and grasped what his brain had not.

He deserved that.

The realization crawled out from his chest, making his limbs weak and his throat burn. He'd been asking for it since the moment he pulled up beside the two, and had only managed to pile on reasons to hate him, reasons to want him dead. His careless attitude had blinded him from the fact that this illness not only stripped away the humanity of those infected, it ground down hard and fast on the survivors, forcing them to rely on nothing more than the humanity society had abandoned.

Luka knew it was not the pampered, leisurely humanity that existed in a carefree world where loss was only a minor concern meant for distant lands. This was raw human nature at its most primitive form, where survival brutally dominated etiquette and freedom. The teen, lacking in the years of conditioning of the soldier, had been the first to surrender her patience to the disease, destroying her fronts to pour her heart out in a pure will to survive.

He had to respect the emotion she'd shown, the same emotion he was so careful to keep in control.

He wondered if that made her stronger than him, if the fact that she had so much sooner demolished her emotional walls in light of a situation bigger than all of them. Her survival had come above her feelings, while his life still swam beneath his lacking willpower to do anything more than toy and torment.

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

Luka was a smart man. He knew when he'd been bested. But it was hard to so easily admit defeat to a hormonal female Mexican teenager.

Grumbling, he forced himself to his feet, wandering into the corner to place his hat on his blonde hair and pull his arms through his loose jacket, neglecting to do it up as he picked his shotgun off the floor and headed for the cellar doors.

Neither Brian nor Anna said a word when the third had appeared at their side, his face etched in an alien expression of loss. They spared him only a glance, the girl's eyes flickering with something unreadable before she returned to the task of steadily advancing down the street, picking off the sick before they could get too close.

Silently, the moved together. A trio of clashing personalities forced to unite under extreme stress, killing for the name of something primitive and instinctual.

Survival.

There were no more ranks. No more superiority based on wealth and knowledge. Gradually, they would be grated down to nothing but the basics, forced to shine through a muddy atmosphere.

Brian understood it. War and conflict had made his realization come early, quick and harsh in it's deliverance.

Anna was a close third. The snap of her final straw had been the loud proof that she'd finally given up on being forgiving.

Luka floated somewhere in the middle. He had understood the concept of humanity and how clouded it was even before the infection. When it had hit and clarity had followed, denial set in. Now, with nothing but acceptance powering the continuous pull of a hard trigger, he'd shed his pride and joined the ranks of those ready to fight for the right to live.

"Move it, soldier-boy, I can't carry both of you!" Luka turned just enough to look back at the soldier as he ran. Brian was running backwards, shooting at the approaching horde with a rifle, trying in vain to thin their numbers. The blonde could no longer wield a gun, considering how he was now preoccupied with keeping the thin frame of the Mexican from flying off his shoulder.

She'd collapsed from weakness about an hour or so after leaving the cellar, no longer able to keep pushing herself without serious, lasting effects. She was semi-conscious and mumbling petty lies of 'I'm fine, just tripped,' when the pair had backtracked to where she lay on the ground.

The Canadian had been the first to stoop down and pull her off the concrete, set on carrying her just as he'd done for the younger man. The self-appointed duty of protecting those around him evident and at it's strongest when someone was in need. However, the irony of the next few moments hit him hard when the very same man he'd carried through the city spoke to stop him from doing the same to the girl.

"Leave her," he had ordered flatly. It was no wonder why Brian had instantly misinterpreted his words.

"I'd sooner leave you," shot back the soldier in brutal honesty. Of course, his remark had been shoved off just as he'd been shoved aside, swallowing his protests as he watched the blonde scoop the girl off the ground and throw her over his shoulder, one arm up to keep her there while the other hand still held tightly to his shotgun.

"Having a change of heart?"

"Dude, you're the better shot. Besides, I'm going to bet you're sore-as-shit from carrying meacross town," Luka had tried to play off the good deed as nothing special, already carrying on his way as Brian moved to keep pace. "You're more useful to me when you actually have functional control of your arms. I'll carry the kid. She weighs next to nothing, anyways."

Brian had tried to draw light to the fact that for the first time since they'd met, the young man was doing a selfless deed, but Luka would hear nothing of it. He hardly seemed to notice the added weight of the girl as they'd continued walking, both men ignorant to the tiny quips of protest from the girl being carried. She insisted she could walk, and that they didn't have to worry.

Luka would deny the notion of worrying and claim that it was just faster this way, where she couldn't slow them down.

Brian would agree quietly, then add with a bright smile that it was his job to worry.

Anna would just nod, accepting the words of both individuals for the personalities they reflected, a little displeased at the fact that she was being carried like a sack of potatoes, but grateful for the assistance none the less as she tried to make herself comfortable.

Then everything began to tumble downhill and out of control.

The trio had done nothing to draw attention to themselves. In fact, they'd been doing quite the opposite: progressing quickly and quietly without making too much noise and staying about as far away from any parked car as they could manage. Regardless of their stealthy movements, one of them seemed to play as a magnet to the infected.

A crazed horde had felt the need to drive it's hive-mentality soldiers towards the pair of men. Waves upon waves of zombies seemed to pour out of nowhere, escaping out of every pore of the city like sweat. At the chilling howls that echoed through the empty streets, the pair had broken into a mad dash down the road, Luka in the lead because he knew where he was going. Brian would keep pace, pause every moment or so to shoot back into the following crowd, then catch up.

Soon he had to abandon this, as they'd gotten so close that stopping meant being overwhelmed.

However, the change in pace had forced him to adjust his hold on the girl to stop her from becoming zombie-chow as they fled. He'd hooked his shotgun around a finger and swung the girl down off his shoulders and into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest as he sprinted as fast as his feet could carry them both. The zombies were practically nipping at his heels.

They didn't have far to run, but those two short streets might as well have carried on for miles.

For the life of him, Luka was unable to figure out why he was unable to just drop the girl and flee for himself, certain he could go so much faster without the added weight – no matter how little it was.

'The debt,' be thought grimly to himself, 'I have to repay my debt.'

The worker focused on these words as he ran, somehow fueling himself to go faster, putting the horde further behind him.

He heard a terrible, familiar rumbling in the distance, but had no time to worry about it.

"There, there!" Luka tried frantically to nod in the direction of the large plaza in front of them, but he needn't have bothered. The soldier had already put on the speed, running ahead of them to get there first. For a moment, the blonde thought this was a selfish act, abandoning them to reach safety first. This thought was quickly banished when the soldier spun, dropped down on one knee and began to fire into the crowd behind them, standing back up and carrying on only when Luka had caught up, which never took long.

Brian took off again, heading with no further regards to the horde behind them towards the doors.

Until a nearby, familiar cry made him hesitate.

However, his eagerness to reach the doors and clear the way for his comrades won over, and he didn't quite have the time to pay as much attention to what was going on behind him. If he had, he just may have turned about and charged blindly into the horde.

A long, thick tongue wrapped its slimy self around the girl's protruding ankle, which went unnoticed by her carrier until she was yanked briskly from his arms with a shriek. Her screams were lost in the wail of the infected as she was dragged off to one side of the street – towards the roof where a smoker stood, pulling in his catch like a fisherman.

"Shit!" Luka turned, hardly thinking twice as he chased after the girl being dragged away, a slew of curses tumbling from his lips. He stumbled the first few steps as he charged head-first towards the horde which had veered in the direction of the captured girl.

He cursed, finding a wall of infected taking place between him and the youth.

His shotgun was going off, ten repetitive shots into the backs of ten unfortunate zombies, but then he had to reload. As he clicked each individual shell in the barrel, all he could hear was Anna's screams, shrill and loud over the howls of the creatures surrounding her.

He realized he wouldn't tear through the crowd fast enough, suddenly feeling short of breath.

Even with this thought heavy on his shoulders, he continued to shoot, slowly advancing through the waves of zombies that put up no fight: they had an easier target to focus on, after all. When the twentieth zombie clattered to the floor a bloody mess, he could just barely make out a familiar tan colour on the ground through the crowd.

She wasn't screaming anymore.

"Mexican!" He called loudly out to her, but the infected only swarmed in tighter, stooping down to form a dome of rotting flesh around the femme. "Hey, Anna!" He forced his voice out in volume, trying to be heard over the relentless noise surrounding him. "Don't you dare fucking die on me, woman!"

It was no use, he could barely hear himself, his voice drowned out in the warped cries of the infected. There was just too much noise.

Noise.

Wait.

One of the creatures unconsciously reared back, driving her elbow harshly into his ribs. He stumbled back, more winded than injured. Of course, it seemed as a blessing in disguise. Allowing himself to walk a little further back, one hand dove down the collar of his shirt, grasping a small chain that hung around his neck and pulling it out into the open.

The small silver object seemed to fragile in his blunt fingers, but he managed to bring it to his lips, clamp his mouth around it and blow, hard.

A shrill, high-pitched sound pierced through the howls like nothing else. The whistle was certainly quite a few octaves higher than what was comfortable and painless to human ears, especially with the urgency of it's use. Angry at the painful interruption, almost every infected head turned in his direction, followed by the turn of a body, and then the senseless charging of their owners.

The infected didn't know nor care who this man was, they only knew he had something that caused them pain – made noise. Disturbed them. As punishment, he had to be killed.

If they could only get close enough, he would be. They would fall before getting within arm's reach, whether by being caught in the spray-effect of a shotgun blast or smashed solidly in the face with the butt of the gun. Body after body clattered to the ground in a bloody mess. Luka couldn't contain a grin, impressed his plan had worked, and that it was going far better than expected. He could rip his way through these things like paper, and get back to pulling the girl's sorry ass out of trouble.

Click.

His confidence plummeted, but he had no time to dwell on the fact that his shotgun no longer had any rounds to shoot. There wouldn't be a chance for him to reload, so he was forced back to trying to keep the beasts at bay with the frantic swings and jabs of his gun. A shriek sounded awfully close to his left, turning his head in time to see a dark creature crawling towards him on all fours, pointed teeth shining out from beneath a navy hood.

As it coiled to spring, he braced himself for the impact, beginning to feel the burning of fists pounding against his arms and back.

Then, the creature's head exploded in a shower of blood.

Two zombies beside him clattered to the floor, one sporting a large hole in it's chest and the other in it's stomach.

Another fell, blood spurting from it's throat.

Bit by bit, the crowd was diminished enough for the blonde to focus his gaze on the soldier. He was quite a distance away, but that seemed to heed him none. He was down on one knee, scope levelled with his eye as that long black rifle delivered death from dozens of metres away.

Luka wasn't sure if he would've thanked the man had he the time. As soon as the path was clear, he shoved his way through the staggering corpses that remained.

The girl was on the floor by the wall – no sign of the creature that had grabbed her, clearly having decided to give up it's prey. Deciding not to question this oddity, he stooped down. Her body looked bloody and broken, dark bruises littering the dark skin liberally. Her eyes were closed, her head back, her mouth slightly open, blood streaming from the corner of his mouth.

"What the fuck did I tell you?" Snarled the worker as he hit his knees, already trying to hook his arms around her as not to further injure her.

So focused was he on painlessly lifting the young woman, that he did not hear the high-pitched wailing behind him, did not hear the horrible retching sound. He did, however, feel the sudden and intense burning of acid on his knees. His gaze dropped to the floor.

A green, bubbling substance pooled on the concrete beneath him and the girl. It crackled and fizzed audibly, burning his skin to the touch. With an alarmed cry, he realized the acid was burning more and more the longer he knelt in it.

He did not get up to flee.

Instead, he propped on knee up, hooking one arm under the girl's neck and another just below her rear, gripping tightly to her thighs as he lifted her off the ground. He gritted his teeth, doing his best not to cry out as the acid now burned into the soles of his feet, dripping down his legs with the sensation of liquid fire.

Luka staggered out of the puddle in a limp, his legs now alive with pain as he tried to progress towards the solider. A flash of green caught his attention just in time to see a long-necked female go clattering to the floor, blood and acid seeping out of the wound in her throat.

"Shit, soldier-boy," he mumbled to himself under his breath, put in awe by the man's aim as yet another zombie attempting to blind-side him went clattering to the floor. He limped his way as fast as he could towards the grocery store which Brian knelt between. Seeing his approach, the soldier rose, fired a few more times, then spun to head towards the store.

Naturally, it was at this moment that another chorus of howls echoed up into the night, accented by a distant rumble that sounded a lot like thunder. Neither of the men looked back, in fear of being demotivated at the sight of even more creatures pouring endlessly from alleys and windows.

Of course, Brian reached the building first, conflicted that the doors didn't automatically open for him as usual. He all but smacked into them with the force of his running, pounding frantically on the glass for a moment before wedging his fingers between the doors and pulling. He was somewhat pleased to find that they were difficult to open, but not impossible. He pried the heavy doors open long enough for him to slip through, then pulled the door back a little further so the broad-shouldered Luka could fit through without hitting his precious cargo off the entrance-way.

When they were both inside, Brian pushed the door shut tightly, backing away from the windows as he levelled his rifle with the head of an approaching zombie, just in case.

The infected man slammed into the glass, just as the soldier had done moments before, but it did not break. It held firm, even as more and more zombies slammed into the glass like hail on a windshield. Luka paid little attention to the whole ordeal, leaving Brian to push a row of shopping carts in front of the door on his own. The worker took to limping inside the store, taking an immediate left and setting the girl down on the customer service counter.

He stood there for a moment, nearly forgetting the pain in his legs as he stared down at the girl and waited.

Waited as he nudged her softly.

Waited as he called her name.

Waited as she remained silent.

Waited as she stayed deathly still.

No. No. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was doing good! He'd been thinking for others, for once, and this is how god chose to repay him? Rewarding his first good deed in a long time by murdering the recipient?

He slammed his fists into the counter by her head, ignorant to how the tired palms ached in protest.

This brought the attention of the soldier, who'd secured the doors enough to satisfy himself and returned to tend to the wounded. His medkit was clutched tightly in his right hand, but upon looking from the girl to the worker, he had no idea where to start.

He stepped towards the worker, who shook his head and withdrew.

So he moved to the limp body on the counter.

"Anna?" He called softly, reaching a warm hand out to touch her arm. She was still flushed with heat, but whether that was from her previous fatigue, or the bruises, or simply the last of her life force...Brian preferred not to dwell on it.

His touch moved up her arm to rest lightly on her throat, specifically the space just beside her windpipe. He winced as his fingers grazed over a rope-like dark bruise on her throat that was trademark with strangulation.

He waited for a while, pressing two fingers gently into the side of her throat.

Then a little harder.

And then, in desperation, a little harder still.

No steady pulse. In fact, there was no pulse at all. The flesh beneath his fingers was all too still, that body beneath his hands terrifyingly motionless.

"She's..." the words caught in the man's throat. He paused to breathe, running a hand through his hair and clenching a fist at his side. "She's gone, Luka. We're two of a kind, now..." A sad smile graced the soldier's features as he forced himself to relax. He drew a hand through her hair, reminding himself that while the young woman was gone: she had to be in a better place than this.

But Luka was silent. At first, the Canadian beleived it was because of greif. He was more than prepared to quietly remind the younger male that they had been robbed of the luxury to waste too much time on the past. They had to keep moving, if not for their own sake's, for Anna's.

As he turned, however, he was instantly on alert.

The worker was rigid, his hands slowly raised in the air and his eyes narrowed in hostility. A cool, level voice rang out into the silence as clear as a bell.

"On your knees," it ordered. Luka made a noise that sounded like a growl from somewhere in the pit of his throat, unable to bite back a bitter retort:

"Fuckin' cougar 'aint getting enough action on her own?"

"On your knees, boy."Luka's head bucked forward as he was smacked abruptly with the butt of a gun. Grumbling and resiting the urge to rub his sore head after the blow, he slowly obeyed. He got down on one knee first, then slowly shuffled his other down: revealing the figure his larger frame had been hiding.

Brian wasn't sure what to feel.

The person holding a gun to the back of the kid's head was an old woman. She wasn't very tall, probably only coming up to Luka's shoulders before he'd knelt. Filled out slightly by age, she had white hair and sharp green eyes. That hair was short, slightly curled and matted with blood and dirt. Her eyes shone with a hardened, unsympathetic will to survive.

The irony of the situation was that the woman looked like one of those typical, bake-you-cookies-for-mowing-her-lawn-type-ladies. She certainly didn't look like the type to hold a much larger, younger and stronger man at gunpoint. Nor did she look like the type to glare as savagely at the remaining survivor as she did.

Slowly, Brian put his hands up in the air – but kept his body in front of the counter.

"Hey, just relax," he said softly, meeting that hardened stare as best he could.

"I'm perfectly relaxed," she shot back, tone curt. "And if you do as I say and stay the same, we shouldn't have any problems."

"Yeah fuckin' right."

Luka was whacked solidly over the head.

"You, marine."

Brian lifted his head a little at being addressed.

"Put your gun and first aid kit on the floor, step away from the counter. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Slowly, he went to obey, though he did not stay quiet.

"Hey, I think this is a bit of a misunderstanding-" he began, "-my friend and I, we were just looking for shelter...I can understand the first-come, first-serve thing, especially in these times, but please...We'll leave, just let us wait out the crowds...I can understand if you're scared, but we're not infected, we're fine and we won't hurt you."

"Speak for yourself," Luka growled again, only to be kneed harshly in the back.

"Don't lecture me, boy. Fear is a luxury I can't afford at the moment. However, I can afford to seize assistance from two strapping young fellows such as yourself. I'll need provisions to survive: provisions that are harder for me to gather on my own."

"Then we'll help you!" Brian was in the process of backing away from the counter at this point. "There's no point in being enemies right now...We could use the extra gun, the extra pair of eyes. We can stick together and look out for each other, and we can certainly help you get the things you need to-"

"Dear lord, child, what have you done?"

Brian had finally revealed Anna's beaten corpse. The woman's eyes had softened at the sight, gun trembling ever so slightly in her hands.

"Oh...This is...This was Anna...She was a friend of ours too..."

Luka turned his head just a little to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of his captor in the corner of his eye. As he did so, Brian continued.

"We just lost her...out there. So...I know it doesn't really matter to you, but...it's kind of a tender moment...she was just a kid..."

"I can see that." All shock was gone from the woman's voice, replaced with a cool, calculative tone. She flicked her gaze to the blonde on his knees, then the dark-haired girl on the counter. She heaved a sigh, then pulled back her gun and drove it hard into the back of Luka's skull.

The Grenada native clattered to the ground, causing Brian to stiffen at the display of violence.

"Relax, boy," the woman said smoothly, "I don't trust him enough to lower my gun around him yet."

Inwardly, Brian concluded that she did trust him enough to do so.

Slowly, the woman advanced, eyes on the girl as she approached. Each step that brought her closer to the body meant the gun was lowered just a fraction groundwards. The soldier watched her carefully, and in return, the white-haired woman returned the weary stare.

"May I?" She asked, motioning slightly to the girl on the counter.

Brian nodded slowly.

The woman put her gun on the counter by the girl's feet, hands moving to inspect her bruises and wounds, to feel for a pulse on her wrist, then her neck. After a moment's pause, she hummed thoughtfully, placing a weathered hand on the youth's forehead.

"I remember when my daughter was this age," she said aloud, commenting more to herself than the nearby soldier, however. Understanding this, Brian remained silent, respecting the woman's space until she flicked her stare back to him. "I will make you a deal, boy. Even now, it seems wrong to just steal from impressionable young fellows without giving anything in return."

"...Alright?"

"I was saving this for an important occasion. But it seems as if this is as about as important as it's going to get." The woman wondered back out into the store, ducking behind an emptied produce shelf and pulling out a large beige messenger bag. She shuffled through its contents for a while before pulling an orange device from the sack.

Clutching the machine close to her blouse, the woman crossed back over to where the girl lay, setting the thing down by her side and detaching the two paddles.

"Wait, you don't have to..." Brian felt the words tumble from his mouth, but he did not mean them. He was simply trying to remain polite after being so suddenly floored by the woman's odd change of heart.

"It's not like I have anyone else to use it on. I can't exactly use it on myself, now can I?"

Brian shut his mouth an gave a small nod, watching as the elder started up the device, rubbing the softened paddles together as the machine made a high-pitched hissing noise.

"What's your name, ma'am?" Asked the soldier, standing faithfully at attention at the woman's side. The elder cast a gaze over her shoulder, hard eyes softening for a moment: just enough to allow him a sight at a smile.

"Elizabeth."

He would've returned the disclosure of personal information by telling her his own name, but he found himself holding his breath as he watched electricity spark between the paddles. His tongue had swollen in his mouth and forced him to an awed silence as those paddles pressed down on the girl's chest.

He could only stand and watch in silence as Anna's body writhed and contorted on the counter from the electricity coursing through her veins.

Hooowowthat'slong.

But unfortunately, something doesn't sit well with me in this chapter. But eh. If I think of it, I'll just come back and fix it laterish. For now, I post this for all you folk to read and hopefully enjoy.

Last character to be added here. Before you all get to confident that you know what's going to happen next - I don't even know yet, so uhh...good luck guessing!

The Next chapter might end up being the last. It should be, but I never know for certain. So please, all you people who have favourited/alerted this, drop in and say hi! I would really appreciate the support! You've read this far in, so you might as well share your thoughts :3 If they're bad thoughts, how can I possibly hope to improve? D:

Thank you for reading this far!

Toodles~

Shmee.