The first 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.

Usually, when she first awoke, the thing Anna saw was sunlight. It would be bright, flooding her white-walled room as if singing to her in a cheery tone: 'Morning is here, sun's up, now it's your turn!' Then she would force herself out of her deliciously comfortable bed with a yawn, stretch and a childish kick of her legs to relocate her covers. But today, when she awoke an hour later than usual and with a throbbing headache, her room was filled with a less exciting gray light from overcast skies. She practically had to drag herself out of bed, rushing as much as she could in her semi-conciouis state and knowing her bus was only a quarter-hour away from arriving.

She stumbled absently about the small room, pausing at the vanity to stare at herself, then rubbing her eyes in attempts to wipe away the bags underneath them. Thankfully, her outfit was lain out from the previous night on her chair – predecided by the school's dress code. She shed her flannel shorts in place of the dowdy knee-length black skirt she would later hike up. Her oversized shirt would be thrown into the bed, replaced with the white blouse embroidered with the letters 'SGCS' in the school colours of various shades of blue.

Her white socks were the next things to be pulled on, stretched to the point where they stopped just under her knees, as was regulation. She headed over to the mirror, in front of which she would normally spend at least an hour. Today, she only had time to darken her lashes with mascara and pull a brush through her dark brown hair. No sooner had she managed to hurriedly claw the last knot out did she hear a holler from downstairs. She slipped a hair elastic around her wrist -with intentions to later use it to pull back her locks of brown,- grabbed her bag from the foot of her bed and tore out the door.

"Hola, Mrs. Sanders!" She called as she jumped the final four stairs to the first floor. Instantly setting to pulling on her little black dress shoes, the young woman was approached by one much older. The elderly woman was still in her housecoat, cupping a mug of tea in her hands.

"Anna, my dear, you're running late!"

"I know, I know. My alarm didn't go off."

"You'll miss breakfast, though." Mrs. Sander's voice was distant as she spoke, as if she wasn't really paying attention to what the Spanish student at her feet was saying. She watched the youthful child hop clumsily around on one foot in order to pull on her last shoe, then the old woman brought her fist to her mouth and began to cough with such intensity she feared she would vomit something up.

This caused the girl to pause, fine features pulling into a precise frown for the second time that morning.

"Are you going to be okay, Mrs. Sanders?" Anna asked, her spanish heritage peppering her speech in an exotic accent. "You've had that cough for over a week now and its only getting worse. You sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"Oh, Anna, don't you worry your pretty little head over me. My doctor has had quite a few troubling cases on his hands lately, I don't want to bother him with my petty cough." The woman pulled her hand away from her mouth, gazed momentarily into her palm before clenching her fist and cupping it around her mug once more.

"Alright, just promise me you'll get some rest today?"

"Of course, dear. Now, aren't you going to be late?" The young woman's face lit up with alarm as she leaned to one side, checking the clock over her elder's shoulder. She yelped at the time, noting that if she didn't run to the end of the drive she wouldn't make the bus. Muttering her apologies for not being able to stay longer, she pecked the woman once on each cheek and vanished out the door. Had she not been in such a hurry, she would've noticed the blood dotting the corner of the woman's mouth, or the blood that speckled the side of her hand she'd used to contain her cough.

Anna was right, had she not run, the bus would've been gone by the time she made it to the stop. Luckily for her, when she darted out into the middle of the street the bus was only in the process of pulling away from the sidewalk. Someone in the back had noticed her and hollered at the driver to wait. In a matter of seconds, the teen was in her spot near the front of the bus, clutching her bag to her chest and taking the time to collect herself by steadying her breathing.

When she'd calmed down enough and her heart had stopped fluttering about in her chest, she set her bag in the empty space beside her and turned around to peer down the aisle to the back. Anna was able to count the number of other students present on one hand, when the bus was normally filled with at least three times that amount. With a frown, she called lightly out to a nearby student: a slightly solemn looking girl who's attention was on the grey blurrs of scenery rushing by as they navigated the city streets.

"Hey," Anna's voice was soft, afraid she was disturbing the peace by talking at all, "is this seriously it for today?" The other student flicked her gaze to the foreigner and nodded with a concerned frown.

"Yeah, that flu has spread really fast in the past two weeks...some of the teachers were saying how over half the student body and staff were sick."

"Is that normal?" Anna still wasn't familiar with the 'normal' of American illnesses.

"Not at all. Would it be normal in Spain?"

Anna shook her head.

The girl went back to staring out the window, informally ending the conversation by doing so. The dark-haired girl let out a long sigh, mind wandering to her ill caretaker. She had a heavy feeling that Mrs. Sanders was sick with the same thing almost everyone else was. The troubling thing was that Mrs. Sanders rarely left the house. She was a rich, elderly woman with money to spare. She paid Anna to get groceries and run errands in return for letting her stay in her estate while the Spanish teen finished her final semester of highschool in an exchange student program.

So, the only logical explanation for the old woman to have caught the disease is if she'd gotten in from Anna, who would've been surrounded by sick people and just carried the illness indoors. The guilt at her from the inside out. Mrs. Sanders was such a nice old widow, and had she not opened her house to the program, she never would've contracted any curious adolescent diseases.

But was it a disease specific to their age group? The media begged to differ.

All over America, people were reporting an outbreak of serious illnesses in all ages. Some places had simply become so swamped in the disease that they'd been quarantined. No one was allowed in or out, and media coverage in those places had ground to a halt. Maybe Grenada was slowly becoming one of those places.

Anna shivered at the thought, gripping her knees tightly in concern for the new friends she'd made here. Friends that, because of the illness, she hadn't seen in days.

"Davidson, Mitchell?"

...

"Jones, Matthew?"

...

"Swan, Eliza?"

...

The room was being smothered in heavy atmosphere as the pale-looking teacher stood at the front of the class and read off an attendance list in a monotone voice. The amount of names that were not met with a response was depressing, and was growing increasingly discouraging the further the woman got down the list. Out of a staggering class of fourty-two, a whole fourteen were present.

Some of them still looked as if they should've been joining the list of those taking the day off. At least half the class was pale, and weary. Coughs occasionally split the silence like a stake driven through thick mud – heavy and alarming at first, only to settle into the weighted atmosphere in a matter of moments.

In some ways, the sickness made Anna feel a bit like a freak. Spending most of her life in Sevilla, Spain made her complexion naturally tan. In the throng of sickly pale people, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Of course, there were others. Not everyone had been cursed with the flu, but being different and strange in a foreign place...it made everything seem more awkward to her.

Looking around, Anna had to estimate that about six of the fourteen people were healthy. Though they sat rigid in their desks, some flinching at every cough and others slowly receding into a saddened state of mind before her very eyes.

"Alright, now that we know who's missing, can everyone move into the front desks? It'll be easier to-" the teacher paused to choke out a terrible set of coughs, "-Nnngh, sorry...It'll be easier to teach if you're all right here."

Slowly, everyone filed up into the front two rows, Anna feeling compelled to take the seat closest to the door, half expecting class to be dismissed and school cancelled until the sickness had been cured. The teacher then turned to the board and began to write, copying down the pages and numbers to math questions they were supposed to do out of the textbooks. The young woman felt herself frown. Textbook questions again? It was all they'd done for the past four days!

Grumbling to herself and hearing others share her opinion, she grudgingly went to open the book to the designated page and start her work.

Anna had lost track of time in her work, so when the class was suddenly disrupted, she felt the need to find the clock on the wall to verify that it was not yet time for second period. However, it had not been the ringing of a bell to pull her from her task. One of the kids in the back corner had begun to cough. Bad. First it had only been a small indifferent addition to the occaisonal coughs that littered the room, but now it had grown into something that sounded terrible.

She coughed and coughed and coughed, the breaths she wheezed in were ragged and high pitched before she'd cough them right back up. After a while of this none stop violent coughing, one of the healthier looking students at her side voiced the question they were all thinking.

"Are you okay?"

With that, the girl promptly doubled over and vomited over the side of her desk.

There was a weak chorus of 'ews' that rose up from the students, only to be silenced by a shrill yelp from a nearby girl.

"Ew! That's blood! She puked up blood!" People rose from their seats and backed away from the bloody mess, others hadn't left their desks and just started up their own feverish retching and coughing from disgust. Some people had just given up all together and sprawled over their desks, tears streaming down their faces from the pain in their lungs.

Anna felt something tug harshly at her heart. This was the promised land? The place where people like her could make their dreams come true? The place to start a new life? She covered her mouth, feeling a wave of nausea crash over her. This was depressing. Depressing and disgusting, and never had she wanted to be back home more than now.

Suddenly, someone on the other side of class let out an ear-splitting shriek. The healthier students had gathered by the door, clearly looking to make a hasty leave. The scream, however, drew all their attentions, Anna's included.

A boy sitting in the corner was pushed away from his desk, his palms pressing up against eyes, his fingernails visibly digging into his forehead and scalp.

"They burn!" He hissed, slowly doubling forward. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood. Hoodie sweaters usually weren't allowed to be worn with the school uniform, but in light of the recent pandemic, no one had felt the need to tell him to take it off. In some ways, Anna was sure it would've been telling an elderly man to leave his walker at the front of the door.

But now, the hood only seemed to add to the bizzarity of the scene they were witnessing. The boy pulled his hands away from his eyes, blood collecting on his hands. Judging by the gasps and points of those around her, Anna guessed she wasn't the only one to notice the state of his hands. It seemed all the blood in his pale body had drained to his fingers, for they were an odd blend of blue, black and red in colour. His fingernails had grown, curling forward to almost look like claws.

"They burn!" He shrieked again, voice unusually high-pitched and raspy from a heavy cough. "My eyes! They burn! Get them out!" He turned to those by the door in desperation, standing now and staring wide-eyed at the students gathered there. Tears streaked from his face, like those on anyone else, however, his tears were red and thick. Blood. "Get them out!" He screamed again, this time directly to them. "Get them out! -" He began to chant the phrase, loudly at first and progressively quieter as he seemed to start saying the words to himself. His muttering continued even as he glared desperately at his hands. "Get them out!" He shrieked with finality, before plunging his fingernails into his eye-sockets and pulling their contents out in a shower of blood and flesh.

Anna felt herself retch, backing up into another student who'd been standing behind her. He reached to grab her shoulders firmly in his hands, no doubt to steady her and provide some form of comfort to himself, for that hold slowly turned into a shaking hug from behind. One of the girls seemed to break out of her trance and tear out the door with a shriek.

This scream drew the attention of the boy once again. Only this time, he'd stopped chanting. He dragged his nails across his desk, wiping them free of the gore from his skull, and turning his now eyeless face towards them. He began to growl something throaty and primal that sounded more feral than human. People were now slowly shuffling towards the door with a purpose, afraid that something even worse would happen if they moved too fast.

Slowly, the boy climbed onto his desk, crouching low while facing the small group of five students, that growl a continuous mess of noise in his throat. Blood streamed from the holes where his eyes once were.

"H-hey, C-chris?" One of the students to her right called out the boy's name. It proved to be a most fatal mistake. The hooded boy leaped into the air, clearing the classroom in an inhuman jump and landing on the boy who'd called him with a solid 'thump'. He dug his claws into his victim's chest and began to pull.

Anna didn't hang around to see anymore. She added her voice to the collection of screams coming from the small group of students and hurriedly tried to push her way to the door. When she'd made it into the hall, she'd turned around just in time to see a shower of blood be pulled from the boy's chest by the creature pinning him down before one of the other students slammed the door shut.

"Attention students. I regret to inform you that...we have not been entirely honest with you these past few weeks..."

A tired, feminine voice rang out over the P.A. On any normal day, Anna would've paused to listen to the message it carried, however, collective thumping against her classroom door motivated her to run down the hall and away from the monster the door contained. Two others accompanied her in her running, while the other students saw fit to run in the opposite direction.

"The sickness that has so obviously hit our school with a solid blow is known as 'The Green Flu."

Anna was hot on the boy's heels as they ran, afraid to fall behind. Another girl was behind her, holding her large glasses on her face as she ran, still carrying a book in the other. Like Anna's, tears streamed down her face. This was from the natural reaction to seeing one student tear another apart, however, not from the pain of an infection.

She was forced to come to a sudden halt when the boy in front of her stopped dead in his tracks, pushing back against the force Anna collided against him with. His arms were out, no doubt trying to contain the students behind him from running ahead.

"It's a deadly disease that is known to cause strange mutations, feelings of violence toward others and a dulled neural reaction. The Green Flu is here at South Grenada, and the dangers are very much real."

In front of the boy, a rather obese student had stumbled into the hall. His uniform had ridden up from the growth of his stomach, which was now breaking out in large, solid boils. He turned to them, large eyes pleading as he covered his mouth with his hands and pressed his lips together. Before their eyes, he seemed to expand, growing and mutating until-

BOOM.

The three students were showered in gore and grime, though the student in front had taken the most of the shower, as he'd been busy sheltering the two girls with his body.

When the last of the biological explosion had hit the floor, the three straightened themselves out and turned their disgust to themselves, trying to remove what blood and green filth they could with their hands.

Suddenly, students came pouring out of their classes, the science of doors completely forgotten as they were thrown off their hinges or just broken through. Without so much as a pause, the crowd threw themselves on the boy who'd taken most of the blow. In a matter of seconds, he was buried under a sea of pale flesh as their former classmates pummeled him with their fists and feet.

"Run!" The bookworm behind her yelled, tugging on Anna's arm as she stared in horror at the scene before her. "We have to get away!"

Anna shook her head to clear the thoughts, turning her back on the boy's screaming and yelling for help as she let herself be dragged down the hall, away from the throng of former students. When they were far enough away, the bookworm let go over her hand and start running beside her.

"We had to run," she said breathlessly, "We had to run. We couldn't have done anything to help, there was nothing we could do." She paused to heave a breath, though Anna had a feeling she was reassuring herself more than the exchange student. "We had to run, we had to run, better safe than sor-"

An inhuman roar interrupted her and in a blurr of motion, a hulking shape had barrelled into her, carrying back down the hall from which she'd run. Anna skidded to a halt and stared dumbfoundedly as the large figure carrying her bowled into the group of pale-faced students that were once tearing their former classmate to shreds. The foreigner started to walk back in that direction, wondering if there was something she could do...something to...

"I regret that, as a school, we have failed to properly prepare you to face such a threat. I wish you only the best of luck and good health. God be with you all. Class dismissed."

Her classmates suddenly whipped their heads towards her. Their voices seem to blend into one grotesque roar as they started sprinting in her direction. She let out a scream in instinct and took off again down the hall. After a while of navigating the hallways and wondering just how she could've forgotten which turn the exit was so soon, she began to tire. She could only leap over so many collapsed or bloody corpses, and dodge a certain number of people running against the grain for so long. Her arms already had bruises from a few close calls, but it seemed now as the horde of people were gaining on her in her fatigue.

With tears streaming down her face and a fierce will to live, Anna pushed herself a little further, a little faster, until an open blue door to her left caught her attention. The Janitor's Closet. She all but slammed into the door in attempts to slow down enough to make the quick turn. She whipped inside and pushed the door shut. She was only allotted a few seconds of silence before an awful thumping began to sound from flesh colliding with steel. Without thinking, she grabbed the metal frame shelf to her right and pulled it down, stepping back as it fell most of the way to the floor, hitching on the opposite wall and forming a diagonal brace against the door.

Try as they may, her former classmates could not get in. Not with that there.

Shaking from the rush, Anna collapsed against the back wall, dragging herself into the corner and pulling her knees close. Her heart skipped a beat and unleashed a torrent of tears. She couldn't hold back as she buried her head in her hands, shoulders shaking and quivering as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Her mournful cries muffled by the flesh of her hand sounded choked and childish. Though still she shook, trembling, crying, sobbing uncontrollably. It was all she could do as she listened to the snarls outside the door, and the occasional scream that echoed down the hall.

When Anna awoke, the noises outside the door had vanished. She could no longer hear any banging against steel, or inhuman snarls outside the door. Her classmates -no, those zombies- had clearly moved on. A growling in her stomach reminded her that she'd nothing to eat all day, and she had no idea how long she'd been in the Janitor's closet. Slowly, she lifted her head out of her arms and looked around. There were cleaning supplies scattered across the floor, and in the shelf to her right positioned against the back wall, more supplies. She grabbed onto this shelf, using it to pull herself to her feet. Her legs felt like jello.

It didn't seem that there was any food on any of the shelves or on the floor. In hindsight, why would there be? It was a Janitor's closet. However, this did mean that she needed to find some, which would involve leaving the sanctuary of her safe-room and back into the outside world. It was that, or starve to death in a 5 foot wide cement room. She first set about trying to push the shelf back upright, which proved to be difficult. In the time it had been left there, it had settled itself quite nicely into a groove in the wall. It would take a lot of power to move it, power she just didn't have.

But this gave her time to step back and think things through. If she went out there, she needed to be prepared for what might be waiting for her. If she got creative...there were several things she could use in here as a weapon.

She started by taking one of the utility belts hanging from the walls and fastening it around her waist. It was a little big for her and hug clumsily off her hips, she knew it ran the risk of falling down if she squirmed too much; but there was little she could do about it.

There were some cans of anti-dust computer cleaning spray, which she hooked into the loops of her belt upon spotting a barbecue lighter as well. With that, she had a flamethrower. The mop that had fallen over upon her entrance was pulled out from under the shelving unit and snapped in half, creating a makeshift stake and a weighted stick for clubbing. Pocketing an exactoknife and a roll of duct tape for good luck, she set back at using her thick wooden stick to pry the shelving unit back upright.

When the mop handle snapped yet again (making it even shorter, which would mean getting closer to those things) she decided it was likely not going to move. Claustrophobia crawled into her mind and sunk its fangs in deep. She never considered herself to be afraid of small spaces, but running the risk of dying helplessly in the closet...Her heart rate began to pick up. She gave a muffled cry, gritting her teeth together as she paced as much as the room would allow. With an angered huff, she spun on one foot and gave the shelving unit a good kick, only to draw back in pain.

The peice of her stick that had gotten wedged under the shelving unit and broken off had been sticking out, and when Anna had gone to kick it in her anger, it responded by drawing a deep gash along her calf. Cursing to herself in her native language, she bit her lip and sat back. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she automatically set out to do what she'd never done before. She wiped up the blood with a disinfectant wipe, deciding to later pocket those before she left. If she left.

After tightly wrapping a towel around her leg and securing it there with duct tape. She put her weight back on her hands with a sigh, letting her head fall back. She was trying so very hard not to cry. Tears wouldn't help her none in this situation. She had to get out somehow, or die trying...Calling for help didn't seem like a good idea, what with the creature wandering around outside...it was better not to waste her breath. Breath...Was it possible she could use up all her oxygen? It wasn't an airtight room, but there wasn't much of a space under the door for the air to get in. Oh. Wait, nevermind. There was a vent.

A vent!

Anna blinked up at the large square panel that translated into a ceiling ventilation passageway. With the incline of the shelf...she could very well make it up there! She was small enough to fit, she estimated, and it sure was better than sitting in a Janitors Closet the rest of her life, which didn't seem to be very much long.

Managing to find room on her body to carry the wipes and whatever else she could fit in the side pouch, she set to carefully climbing up the incline, shelf by shelf. It wasn't that much of a rise, but it was good enough. The thing was, she was slightly afraid of the unit collapsing and hitting the floor entirely, destroying her chances of getting high enough to reach the cover.

Thankfully, the support held firm. She managed to pry off the cover and pull herself up into the dark, cramped vent. Utilizing a flashlight she'd found in the closet, she lit up the long steel tunnelway. She scrunched up her nose, nearly retching at the smell of decay that wafted through the vents. Having no other option, she was forced to proceed towards the smell of death, and began carefully crawling in the direction of what she knew to be the hall.

She wasn't quite sure where she planned to exit, and if she had her way she would've preferred it be somewhere outside. After about being up in the duct for about five minutes, she ran into her first sign of trouble. There was a figure curled up at the end of the tunnel, blocking the passageway entirely. At first, it looked like just another corpse -Just another corpse? Was she getting used to this already?- until she noticed the steady shift of body weight that meant it was breathing. Someone was still alive! Maybe they'd hidden up here to escape the turmoil in the same way she'd hidden in the closet?

"Hey!" She called, her voice hoarse and throat raw from being neglected for a few hours after such panicked screaming. She cleared the lump in her throat, then called again. "Hey, excuse me!" The thing stirred, shifting awkwardly in the cramped space. It managed to turn its head towards her. It was a young boy, probably in one of the younger grades at the catholic school. His blonde hair was messy with dirt and grime, blood streaming down his chin from his mouth. In a panic at the pale-faced sight, she turned off her flashlight, hoping it hadn't seen her.

Yellow eyes stared at her in the dark.

She slowly began to back up, though the dark thought of having nowhere to go was getting heavier and heavier as the idea settled on her shoulders.

The thing moved, croaking and groaning in such odd ways as it tried to re-adjust itself again. As it did so, Anna reached back for the dust-remover.

Finally, the creature found it's feet on the vent, and rapidly began to claw it's way towards her. Its had limited maneuverability in the crammed space, but it seemed to be making good progress as it approached her faster and faster. It got about a foot away before Anna narrowed her eyes, yelled a curse to it's face, and then the vent was consumed with fire just as the creature lunged for her.

Something snapped underneath their combined weights, and Anna went crashing to the floor. Her back met linoleum tile under the flaming corpse of the creature. She grimaced and cried out, shoving the burning flesh away from her and scrambling away until her back connected with a wall. Her face was hot, and her arms now lacked hair, but she was alright. She was alright and she was out.

Shakily, she pushed herself to her feet, the smell of burning skin and hair now fresh in the air, mixing with the nauseating scent of decay. She needed to get outside. The halls were dark, the power having been cut and the skylights providing very little light in addition, in fact, she thought it was likely it was just before nightfall. She'd been in that closet almost all day.

With a determination and new found hope to see the outside world, she carefully started heading towards the exit. Her flashlight was back on, and now having calmed down she was able to remember which way was out. She kept the spray can in her pocket, however, ready to use it the moment something came running her way. She would just drop the flashlight and flick the lighter...and then...well, she knew fire worked well on these things.

She sprinted to the double doors when she saw them, eager to see natural light flooding through the small windows on either side. Body checking the things open, she stumbled down the steps and gratefully collapsed at the foot of the stairs, ignorant to the scraping on her knees from hitting the concrete so hard. She was out. She was out and she was free.

But not safe

Anna's face fell as she slowly pushed herself upright, eyes wide as she stared down the hill to the subdivisions below. Most of the houses were on fire. Further along, in the heart of the city, smoke billowed towards the sky. The glass of one of the sky scraped glittered with the light of fire, from both inside and out. How had this all happened in one day? Was she the only one left? Was everyone like this? She could feel herself beginning to cry again, arms shaking violently as she began to believe all that had been for nothing, to stumble out into a world destroyed.

It was a distant crackle that brought her back to her senses. There were what, seven billion people in the world? It was highly unlikely that she was the only one. There had to be more, she just had to find them.

The crackle sounded again, and this time she was able to identify it as movement, somewhere behind her. She turned, only to stare blankly up the steps and into the dark halls. Nothing was there.

Yet still, she heard it again. The distinct shuffle of small, quick footsteps and then a high pitched giggle. Slowly, she reached for her homemade flamethrower. She never got the chance to use it, however, for a dark shape hurtled itself off the roof and directly at her.

In a panic, she turned to flee, only to have the weight solidly connect with her shoulders, driving her several steps forward before she lost her balance and began to tumble down the hill, dragging her hitchhiker with her. Together, Anna and the little pink thing rolled down the hill, the Spanish girl trying as hard as she could to grab on to the creature who'd lost its grip on her and use him to break her fall. She succeeded just before colliding with a rock near the bottom. Thankfully, the ginger-headed creature was her safety net, providing a decent cushion between her and the rock.

Rising once more, and beginning to feel sore from all the bruises, Anna was down a can. She decided not to trek back up the hill and retrieve it, however. She still had one more and wanted to stay as far away from the school as she possibly could. With a huff and a solid kick to the broken creature's gut, she carried on down the hill, sliding in the mud before reaching the road near the bottom.

There was nowhere else for her to go but into the city. She wasn't about to turn around and head back to the school, and there wasn't much in the ways of 'other people' in the fields and forests behind the grounds. Heading into civilization, or what was left of it, was her only option.

Anna had lost count. She'd lost count of how many steps she'd taken, how many minutes had passed, how many times she'd jumped or flinched at the flicker of a shadow or an echo of noise. She tightly clutched the dust-remover in her hand, her lighter in the other. Sometimes, she'd had the blessing of running into an infected individual who would spot her from the other side of a fire, then run through it without realizing the consequences of setting itself on fire.

Other than the occasional flaming corpse she had to dodge, she'd been pleasantly surprised to find she hadn't met much resistance.

However, she hadn't met much of anything else, either.

Walking down the long, seemingly endless main road was both depressing and tiring. Each step added to her fatigue, and reminded her that she'd gotten no closer to find anyone. Cars were littered across the road, some abandoned in the middle of the street and some crashed into guardrails with blood staining the windows. She forced herself not to look at those ones.

Gradually, she began to tire. Her stomach rumbled in protest from so much activity running on empty, but she dare not search any store or house on her own, where there were shadows and rooms in which things could hide...Eventually, hunger would drive her into some building, but she would avoid the experience for as long as she could.

Each step became harder and harder. She tried to entertain herself by counting each footstep in her head, and guessing how long it would take for her to get from one landmark to the next. First she counted in Spanish, then in English, then switching to Spanish once more. When that stopped being distracting, she let each footstep help her to recall a memory

Step.

Playing in the park with Mama when she was only five, encouraging her mother to push her higher on the swings, loving the peak of each push because it gave her the sensation of flight.

Step.

Getting her first bicycle when she was eleven. They were not a wealthy family, so the shiny new toy was a welcome gift, her favourite for years. She rode the thing everywhere, treating it almost like an extension of her body.

Step.

Flying to America in a fancy plane on an exchange program to complete her final semester, if she got enough scholarships there, she could attend a high-class university for her doctorate.

Step.

Meeting Mrs. Sanders, touring her beautiful home. Meeting new friends in a new school, gaining an understand of English she hadn't gotten from public school English classes. Good grades.

Step.

Carrying the Green Flu into Mrs. Sanders' home.

Step.

Her classmate ripping his own eyes out in a mad panic.

Step.

Another student being swarmed in infected, a direct result of protecting Anna.

Step.

The bookworm being pounded into the ground.

Step.

Being Alone

Step.

Being Hungry

Step.

Being Lost.

Step.

Scared.

With that thought, Anna hit the dirt.

Not intentionally, however. In her distraction, she'd picked up speed. Tears had begun to blurr her vision once again. So lost in her own grief was she, that she didn't notice the corpse in her path until she stepped on it. Well, more accurately: tripped on it.

She clattered to the pavement, feeling the burn in the palms of her hands and her knees as she just barely caught herself and prevented a painful face plant. Gathering herself once more, she sat on the concrete and turned to see who she'd tripped over. The body of a cop lay face-down in the middle of the road, blood pooling out from around his head. She grimaced, eyes travelling a little further along the road to find his car, the door open and a trail of blood leading from there to where she sat with him.

Well prepared to get up and carry on her way, Anna began to rise. She stopped herself when she spotted something shine on the officer's uniform. Her hands darted for it the instant she realized what it was.

A gun!

She clutched the pistol in her thin fingers like it was a delicate flower, afraid to set it off or somehow break this blessing. She fumbled with it carefully, running the pads of her fingers down the barrel, moulding the flesh of her palm around the handle, delicately placing her index over the trigger. She had a weapon now. A real weapon. And better yet...she had transportation. She could drive out of Grenada! Where she'd go, she wasn't sure, but anywhere was better than here!

She scrambled to her feet, carrying the pistol with her as she dashed to the car. Leaping inside, she shut the door firmly behind her, sitting behind the wheel as she steadied her breathing once more, surprised how much that excited dash had jump started her system. She stroked the wheel as she breathed, finding the gas pedal, settling into the seat. Luck was with her, for the keys still hung out of the ignition. She gripped the black-covered key for a moment, praying to the lord for the vehicle to start. Biting her lip, Anna turned the key and held.

And then wished she hadn't.

Sirens blared, lights flashed and the car roared to life. She desperately searched for the switch that operated the noise and lights, but among the multitude of buttons and switches, she wasn't sure which did which. Frantically, she tried everything. The car emitted a strange assortment of noises, the lights flashing in different patterns and creating quite the show. All the comotion almost drowned out the distant, inhuman roar of a demon on the prowl.

Almost.

They came from the shadows, the buildings, both the way she'd come and the way she'd yet to go. The noise summoned them, the lights aggravated them. With no regard for their own health, they slammed into the patrol car from all angles. As the crowd of infected gathered around it, the car began to rock, the young woman inside swaying with it. Someone was banging their head repeatedly against the driver's window, shatterproof glass causing blood to burst fourth from his vessels and obscure the vision to the outside the world. Each window suffered a similar fate, becoming the canvas to artists who used their own blood as paint.

Anna didn't realize she'd started crying again until she tasted salt on her tongue. Shaking uncontrollably, she clutched the pistol to her chest. She began to think the worst.

She would never be able to wake from this nightmare.

Her eyes couldn't shut tight enough, her screams would never be loud enough. She couldn't block out the shrieks and snarls of those around the car, she couldn't erase the sights of blood splattering this way and that, nor the faces pressed to her windows in eagerness to catch a glimpse of what treat lay inside.

Without thinking, she slowly let her finger tense around the trigger of the weapon. A quivering hand lifted it in synchronization with the slow backwards tilt of her head, until the muzzle of that gun pointed directly at her chin, drawing an invisible line of fire to her brain.

One shot would end it all. She could leave this cursed country behind and join her father in a better world. She could silence the screaming of those around her, and forever stop the painful jabs of hunger at her stomach, the wrenching of her heart in fear and desperation. And the tears...they'd never have to fall again. She'd never blind herself with them again.

Taking in a shaky breath, she shut her eyes tightly and gripped the pistol tighter.

A single shot rang out.

Please leave a review. Any thoughts are appreciated. Public response will help determine whether or not it's worth it to continue. I personally don't really use OC's as main characters (it bothers me), so this is a first, and something I'm hesitant to do. But here it is, after having sat in my brain for forever and a day.

Thanks for reading this far x3

Toodles,

Shmee