While Mattie quickly started for the entrance, Nicholas surreptitiously stepped in front of her with an ever-tightening grip on his machete. Again, he held it up like a baseball bat and pushed the half-open restaurant door even further open. This place had very obviously been looted - some of the tables were overturned, but other than that, it was in pretty good shape. If anything, this could be a better, secluded shelter for them to take refuge in. That would mean, however, relocating his mom and Alissa, and he wasn't sure if either of them were in the right shape to travel even a short ways.

Nicholas then eyed Mattie's knife, fully realizing that she had it and that it was probably best that she did instead of a meek slingshot. After the first few steps into the building, Nicholas extended his arm in front of Mattie as a signal to halt.

"Listen," he said, holding up his finger. There was a rattling in what he assumed to be the kitchen - too large to be a rodent, unless it was somehow super mutated. However, he supposed it could have been a dog or raccoon, but in these times, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Wait here," he mouthed to her - whether she listened or not wasn't rightly his problem. He inched toward the kitchen door, crouching down as if he were in some video game. What was he doing? Where did this courage come from? As if suddenly realizing who he was and what he was capable of, he began shaking and felt a whimper trying to escape his throat. Now he felt utterly ridiculous - what was he going to do? Spar with a zombie? He froze in his tracks and looked back at Mattie.

And the second he looked back, a member of the undead burst out of the kitchen door like a horror movie trying to pull a cheap jump scare. Instinctively, Nicholas screamed (a very girlish scream), but as he tried to rise and run, he tripped over himself and fell belly-first upon the floor. He flipped over as the zombie toppled on top of him, clawing weakly at his flesh with one single arm, as the other was missing. Snarling, gnashing teeth threatened to rip into his throat, and it was as if he'd completely forgotten about the machete he was wielding, instead pathetically throwing punches at the zombie with his empty hand.

It had all happened so fast. There was a flash of irritation as Nick held her back––as if she couldn't take care of herself!––that melted away at the sound of rattling. Her instincts screamed at her to fight like a cornered animal (which she was), to run and run and never look back, to grab Nick and toss him over her shoulder and get the hell away from this God-forsaken hellhole. She was quiet until it happened, and then she didn't hear herself. It was as if her consciousness were watching everything unfold from afar.

"Idiot!" someone screamed, and it was her. The next thing she knew she was straddling the heap of rotting flesh that threatened Nick, pulling it by greasy tangled hair off of the man, wrestling the thing to the ground. Her mouth was open in a scream, half fear and half fury, her knuckles ivory as she drove her knife over and over into the soft, rotting skin, smashing dead ribs, making an absolute mess of black-red, foul-smelling blood that was thick with decay. Up, up she went, obliterating what was once a carotid artery, her knife making splatters that stained her clothes, and she just didn't care if the infection spread to her. For the moment.

She was back in the present now, breathing hard. She didn't know what on earth had gotten into her. Somehow she'd severed the thing's head, and now her grip on the knife was so weak it nearly slid out of her fingers. She looked to Nick and stood up. He must really want to get the hell away from her now, because if that wasn't completely insane of her than nothing was. Plus she'd taken no care to avoid the bodily fluids. She could be incubating the virus right now.

"Well," she said, shakily. "I suppose we should move on."

Nicholas sputtered and screamed when Mattie practically launched herself at the thing and projected it off of him. He could only watch and stare with stunned, terrified silence as she slashed and slice the undead being into nonexistence. As a reflex, he'd scrambled backward, away from the combatants, fingers still tightly wrapped around his weapon and brain ticking and wondering if he needed to intervene. He was very honestly afraid to intervene - that Mattie might hurt him in her rampage. His body was trembling with fear. Then it was over. Mattie stared down at her victim with heavy, strained breath, while Nicholas continued to only stare at her. And it was at that moment he felt himself become infatuated with this stranger.

When Mattie looked over at him, his heart almost stopped. He didn't know what she was going to do next. Her clothes were covered in blood, and Nicholas knew that was not the best thing right now.

"Well," she'd said, voice shaking as much as his own limbs were. "I suppose we should move on."

She looked weak, then, as if that had taken every bit of her physical strength - and it very well may have. Nicholas quickly picked himself up and rushed over to her, one arm wrapped around her upper back in a supportive touch.

"A-Are you okay?" he asked, stuttering fearfully. "Are you- can you- I mean, you've got blood everywhere. We-We have to find you different clothes."

To say the least, Mattie was surprised that Nick didn't move on without her. No, in fact, he seemed concerned. Why? she wondered. Why did he care about her? And why did she care about him? she thought, increasingly aggravated by her own feelings and the fact that it was so hard to decipher them. Right now––his expression––there was something about his face that she could absolutely swear she'd seen before!

And that wasn't even the worst part. She did have blood everywhere. Now that the detached rage was fading, panic was replacing it. She couldn't become one of those mindless whatever-they-weres. She looked down at her shirt and shuddered.

"We can check the place for food first. Just... don't let me touch anything." She strengthened her grip on the knife and gave a stiff nod. "I'm fine for now. But keep the machete handy."

"No, Mattie," Nicholas said in a frustrated tone, feeling as if he'd spoken her name in that exact way before. He was firm but careful in leading her over to a chair and sitting her down, hoping she'd stay sitting. "Just relax," he said. "Okay? Listen, I don't hear anything anymore. I'll see what they have, okay?"

As Nicholas headed back to the kitchen, he was careful to step over the body of the zombie. A shiver of absolute terror went up his spine when he entered the kitchen and found that the body outside was not the only one - there were over a dozen human bodies scattered around the kitchen, ready to rise and attack at any moment. Nicholas panicked, backing out of the kitchen and then turning to run out into the main room, over to Mattie.

"We have to leave," Nicholas told her, voice strained and panicked. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the exit. "The place is covered with- with bodies."

She couldn't hide her relief in the prospect of leaving this horrible place; she let out a deep breath. She didn't need to be dragged, and she hurried as much as he did to get out of the restaurant. It was more than a little of a relief to be outside again, even if she was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and scared. And she could still smell the sickening rotting scent of blood on her clothes, making her shiver just a tiny bit. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to put Nick in danger.

They were outside now, and Mattie didn't know what to do. Keep looting whatever buildings they could find? Seek shelter? Try to find new clothes because she'd lost it? Now that would be awkward. But, she thought, looking sideways at Nick, maybe it wouldn't be a terrible way to spend her last moments.

Wait. What?

She cleared her throat, knelt down and wiped her bloody knife on the ground.

The sun had since passed its peak in the sky and was beginning its descent once again. Nicholas couldn't believe how fast the day had passed - it seemed like just moments ago, he was preparing for the start of the day. Then, Alissa got attacked, and he'd had to patch her up. Then the whole, running into Mattie thing. Now this. It had been an eventful day - though admittedly not any more eventful than the past two weeks. It was beginning to drive him to permanent exhaustion, both mental and physical. He didn't realize that he was still holding on softly to Mattie's arm as they walked, and only realized it when he wiped his face with the fist clenched around the machete. He let her go.

"Sorry," he said, face burning and turning red. "I think we're just going to have to go back to the Walmart. I can see how tired you are, and I'm not much better off myself."

He rummaged uselessly in his pocket, finding nothing and not even knowing what he expected to find.

Mattie nodded as she sheathed the knife. She was so glad he'd suggested going back; she wasn't sure anymore if she could make it to the hardware and convenience stores. What had seemed so close earlier now seemed like another country away. "Alright," she said, sounding out of breath which she hated. "Alright. Let's get going, no good if we're not there by dark." She started walking and knotted her eyebrows. Wherever Nick went in the store, she made a mental note to herself to go the opposite way. She was unclean. She was dangerous.

But it had been pretty comforting to be held.

She walked along in silence, chewing her lip. Admitting one's feelings was admitting one's weakness.

Their walk back to the store was quiet and shorter than Nicholas had expected, signaling what little ground they'd covered in so much time. A quite disheartening thought. He knew that they'd have to try again tomorrow. When they arrived, the sun had lowered even further, and it would be dark soon. That was when the monsters usually came out - they were nocturnal. They thrived in the darkness. It was almost as if they even moved quicker in the darkness. As if they were more powerful. The thought made Nicholas shudder.

"There will be some clothes that way," Nicholas said, pointing toward a section of the Walmart that once displayed women's clothing. "I don't think clothes were on many peoples' minds when they came through here, because there's quite a bit left. Get you something comfortable but easy to move in. You probably know, but there won't be much time for outfit changing during the day. I guess we'll get up tomorrow morning and try traveling again - with, you know, less stops."

He pursed his lips, surprised at the sudden leadership abilities he'd developed since having to care for his little sister, and now a complete stranger who he felt entitled to protect.

"I have a sister and my mom is here with us," Nicholas said. "They're going to be-"

His words were interrupted by a scream and three gunshots, causing his mouth to fall open and his eyes to bulge nearly out of his head as he ran forward and rounded a corner.

"Alissa?! Mom?!" he screamed, skidding to a halt upon seeing his sister pointing the rifle at him, his mother behind her with two bullets through her head. He raised his hands defensively, dropping the machete.

"Alissa," he said quietly. She lowered the rifle, fear in her eyes. He repeated her name, not knowing what else to say.

"She came after me," the eleven year old sobbed. "I was scared."

"It's okay," he said shakily, on the verge of tears himself. He held his arms open. "Come here. It's okay."

Alissa sat the rifle down gently and limped over to her brother, embracing him as she shivered and sweated at the same time. Nicholas placed a hand upon her forehead and frowned.

"You've got a fever," he said. "You need to lie down."

"I'm scared," his sister said weakly.

"Just lie down and go to sleep, okay? Come on," he led her over gently to her bed and helped her lie down. When she tried to pull the covers over her, he pulled them away and shook his head. "You have a fever. You don't need to cover up. I'm sorry."

The girl whimpered but didn't protest - she didn't have the strength to. She curled up on her side, and almost within seconds, she was unconscious. Nicholas knew she wouldn't survive the night.

Oh, no. Mattie hadn't even thought of Nick having family in there. The gunshots made her shiver and stop and stare into the entrance wanting to go anywhere but in there. She trailed behind him at a slower speed, fear making everything just a little blurred at the edges. And what were they going to do with his mother's body? Everything was getting to be so much, and his sister–– oh, god, his sister was infected, wasn't she?

It was getting dark out. She had no time to panic in the entrance of a Wal-Mart in the dark. Gulping, she followed Nick inside and turned sharply toward the women's clothing section. She changed out all her clothes and, feeling much more comfortable now, she sat on the floor and splashed some water on her face and hands. Now she felt a little bit cleaner. ...A little bit.

She came back to Nick and his sister. With her possibly infected, she felt a strong need to keep watch. She looked to Nick. "Hey, um, thanks... for letting me stay here and stuff. I think you should get some rest and I'll guard us. You never know if the pricks out there will try and get in for some cheap deals." The reality was that she didn't want Nick to have to kill his sister if she became a zombie. She was also aware that he'd just lost his mother.

Mattie hadn't said a word, and instead sneaked off to go retrieve the clothing Nicholas had told her about. He sat next to his sister for a while just stroking her hair, hardly even possessing the ability to cry anymore as he watched his mother's lifeless body. How long would it be before she rose? The thought bothered him, because he didn't know how to dispose of the body or how quickly. Alissa shivered and whined in her sleep, but was the very farthest from sanely conscious. Nicholas ripped the bandage on her leg open and was disgusted at the oozing, greenish yellow wound that greeted him. He gagged, then crawled over to retrieve a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and some gauze from a ratty first aid kit upon a shelf. All of the rags they had were dirty, and Nicholas didn't want his sister to become even more infected than she already was. Maybe she could survive. A very hopeless maybe.

Cringing although the pain would not be his, Nicholas gently poured the rubbing alcohol onto the hideous wound his sister possessed. It drew a blood-curdling scream from the depths of her throat, a long, lasting one that died down only after several minutes and caused Nicholas' heart to hurt. It seemed like the alcohol had only made the wound worse as a nasty looking blackness began to fade over first the wound, then her entire leg. Nicholas quickly wrapped her whole leg in gauze out of fear.

Mattie returned, thanking him for the shelter after a moment of silence and then suggesting he get some rest. He almost laughed at the thought. Rest? How was he supposed to rest? His mother was dead, his sister dying. Their chances of survival were next to none. A scoff escaped him. He looked up at Mattie and managed to smile, though apathetically.

"Sure," he said. "I need to...take care of my mother first."

With draining strength and a dazed look, Nicholas picked himself off the floor and began to drag his mother away from Mattie and Alissa. They were still in view by the time he stopped, but a good ways away. There was a pile of blankets where they were sitting, ones that used to be his mother's. He gathered them and withdrew two small lighters from a nearby rucksack. The lighting fluid from one of the lighters was dumped on the blankets and his mother, which were bunched together. Then he lit the remaining lighter, crouched down with his arm extended, lit the fluid and quickly ducked away when it burst into flames. The smell of burning flesh would soon fill the air.

He walked back over to Mattie and Alissa and then, without a word, made himself comfortable on his own makeshift bed and closed his eyes.

Mattie couldn't bear to watch Nick's mother burn. It reminded too much of the fresh memory of pouring out gasoline all over the house, of stepping outside and tossing the lit match over her shoulder and just leaving, leaving like she didn't care about her family and all the suffering they'd done in their last hours. It had been like she'd just burned every trace of their lives together and walked away like it didn't matter. It hurt to think about it.

She watched Nick settle down with a sad gaze. Both of them knew that he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight, not with what had happened. It made her wish that she'd taken some melatonin pills with her. Melatonin...hah. Horse tranquilizer would be more appropriate to get the job done. Shuddering from the light of the flames and the smell they produced, Mattie took off her jacket and quietly put it over Nick.

"I know it'll be hard," she whispered to him. "Just try to think of your breathing or some shit."

Nicholas had barely noticed the jacket being lain over him until he cracked one eye open just as Mattie was moving away again. The smell that the burning body of his mother was omitting was almost unbearable; it made him scrunch his nose in disgust. Then Mattie spoke, and the sound of her voice was almost melodically soothing to him, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. Even with the nonchalant, almost apathetic tone she had, it comforted him to know that she was...there.

"Yeah," he replied, voice just above a whisper. The store became darker as the sun drifted lower. His eyes didn't close again, and instead he stared up into the darkness that hid the ceiling.

"Do you think we'll survive this?" he asked suddenly, knowing good and well that Mattie couldn't answer. Knowing that, even if they survived, his sister wouldn't. Couldn't. "Do you think that this will all blow over sometime and things will go back to how they were eventually?"

He sighed. The flames were getting smaller now, and light was almost gone. The smell was also fading, and for that he was glad. He rolled onto his side, facing both Mattie and Alissa. His sister was folded into the fetal position, but her tembling had halted.

"Do you think we'll survive this?" Nick had asked. It was quite out of the blue, and although Mattie wanted to comfort him, she really hadn't ever been the type to sugarcoat things. Especially when he asked if things would just blow over and return to normal. As if they could. Well, maybe they would eventually. Maybe the infection could be combated. Even so, she doubted that they would live to see the day that a social collapse of this magnitude would be reversed.

But she didn't want to say that to Nick. He was probably feeling crushed enough right now what with his sister dying and his mother dead. There wasn't any way of knowing for sure whether a "Maybe two hundred years down the road" would drive him over the edge and earn her several holes in her chest. (She doubted this would happen, but the probability was somewhere above zero.)

So instead she sighed and said, "We're going to just have to take things one day at a time."

It took Mattie a couple of silent moments to reply, and the flame from the burning body of Nicholas' mother had already vanished into a pile of lightly burning embers. When the woman finally did reply, she only said, "We're going to just have to take things one day at a time," with a sigh.

Nicholas knew an answer like that was coming from someone like her; even though he'd only just met her, he knew the type of person she was. It wasn't likely that she was going to use sweet, soft language just to make someone feel better unless they were having a complete meltdown. Nicholas may have been having a meltdown, but right now he didn't think it wise to show it. He was already a mess of awkwardness and cowardice. His internal mind and conscience damned itself for being so weak. So feeble.

"Yeah," he finally responded, turning once again to lie on his back. The melancholic apathy in his tone was almost tangible, and he was almost regretful that he'd been so...down. But how could he not be? He could hear his little sister whimpering in her sleep.

"There's a refuge camp somewhere," he sighed long and heavily. "My dad...I can't remember if he was trying to find it, or if he - I don't know. He told us to stay at home while he went out looking, I think for the camp, but I'm not sure. We- We never heard from him again. Then as I was moving mom and Alissa here, because there were lots of infected surrounding our neighborhood and people were either dying or leaving, I could have sword I saw him...eating someone. I didn't - I didn't stay. I hurried and got us here."

Even though he wasn't sad - actually, he was feeling pretty emotionally numb - a tear began to leak out of the corner of his eye as he stared upward. Shakily, he raised a hand and wiped it away. He wasn't sad. No, he was just...numb.

"What's your story?" he asked, voice breaking. He ignored it. It didn't matter.

Mattie went a little cold when Nick asked her story. She turned her head away for fear of betraying the raw emotions, even though it was in all likelihood too dark for him to see her–– she couldn't see the tear that ran down his face, and barely saw the hand that cape up to wipe it. She made no comment. She'd just listened to his story with the silent solemnity of attending a funeral, picked at the skin on her fingertips, and gazed at the weakening orange light that not long ago had been a burning body.

"My story," she started in a hoarse whisper. She wanted to tell him it didn't matter. She wanted to say it was none of his business. But it didn't seem fair to listen through his story, something so personal as that, and then not give him anything. So she cleared her throat and went on.

"We were able to hoard enough supplies and barricade ourselves in the house," she said with a downward glance at pitch-blackness. "Some of 'em tried to break in. Infected and looters. But we managed to chase them away. Surprisingly. And then for a couple weeks nothing happened. We stayed in mostly. Made the best of it. But then we ran out of water, and I... I went out. Collected more. I had tablets for it but they weren't left in long enough." She shivered, but made no move to take back the jacket she'd given Nick. After all, it wasn't the cold that was making her shudder.

"It made us all sick, all of us. Cholera I think. No plumbing, almost no cleaning fluid...you know that stuff will spread no matter how hard you try to contain it. I don't know how I survived." She finished by slapping a mosquito off of her neck and wondering if it carried West Nile or something. She didn't want to test her luck, that was for sure. "So, um, there's a life lesson. Always wait half an hour for the iodine to work."

Sometime while listening to Mattie's voice, Nicholas found himself cuddling the jacket she'd lain over him. Now that she was finished speaking, he became even more aware that he was doing this and carefully folded the garment over once before setting it beside himself. For a while, he thought about Mattie's story. He had some questions - how many had died because of her mistake? How in the world, like she mused, had she survived in that type of mess? How did she dispose of the bodies? How long had it been since she did so?

These questions were on his mind, but never voiced. Instead, he rolled back over and tried to see her through the dark without success. Alissa had stopped whimpering and there was no sounds of movement - was she breathing?

Not knowing what he could have said to comfort Mattie anyway, he asked, "Can you check on Alissa? She's right behind you."

Mattie gave a sharp nod, and then followed it up with a "Yes, of course," because she figured that there might not be enough light for him to see her. Wishing there were more light, she turned her back on Nick and squinted down at his sister. What was her name? Alissa, that was it. Normally she would have gained a good deal of information from the look of her; was she pale? Had she lost weight? There was also the thing she didn't want to admit.

Her run-in with death had left her a bit of a germophobe. She found herself reluctant to touch the little girl. Perhaps part of it was that the poor kid wasn't related to her–– survival of the fittest, the selfish gene, yadda yadda. But she already liked Nick too much to refuse that request. Plus, she wasn't all too keen on being seen as more of a dickhead than she already was.

She took a deep breath and took the girl's wrist gently. She didn't really want to wake her up, but she could at least check her pulse and temperature. She pressed her fingers to the radial artery and waited. A feeble beat registered on her fingertips. She moved on to Alissa's forehead, touching the back of her hand to it.

"She's hot," she mumbled softly. It wasn't looking good.

"She's hot," is what Mattie told him.

That was that. Nicholas was up and no longer tired at all. Alissa's skin was hotter than before - she was infected. Damn it. She was infected. Was there going to be no end? No father. He just had to burn his mother's body. Would his sister be next? Would she live through it? One could only hope - well, Nicholas could only hope. If there was a god, he was praying to each and every one of them now.

Please, just let me keep my sister. Please.

Shaking hands reached down and touched the burning, graying skin of the small body before him. Not only was she now infected, she was so terribly undernourished. Nicholas cursed himself for not being able to find more food, better food, or give her what little portions he ate even when she'd had her share. He could survive longer without food than she could. Now here she lay, practically bones, face sunken in. Maybe it was the sickness - but how quick did it work? She'd just gotten bit that afternoon.

"Damn it," he said. "Damn it all."

His hands then rose to the top of his head, placed on top of one another. His jaw clenched and his eyes slipped shut. There wasn't a chance. Her skin was already turning discolored - she already looked like a corpse.

"Do we - do we wait?" he opened his eyes and looked at Mattie, eyes shining with tears.

To tell the truth, she'd never dealt directly with someone she'd known becoming infected. All of the ones she'd killed so far had been strangers to her, people she'd never met when they were alive and healthy. And so she'd never felt much emotion when taking care of the problems they caused by killing them. This was different, and it wasn't something she was emotionally equipped for at all.

Every practical part of her, all the logic in her being came together and screamed at her to get rid of the girl. There was nothing they could do. She spelled trouble and possibly death. Every moment they waited was another moment the disease could be transmitted, and she could become aggressive at any second.

But she was Nick's sister. She had a name. She was still a person.

"I'll be back in a sec," Mattie said. She got up abruptly and headed for the in-store pharmacy. Although she wasn't hopeful she'd find what she was looking for amid all the chaos in the looted section, a few minutes of digging around produced a couple bottles of sleeping pills. They'd do. She came back quietly. Now the dark was truly settling, and her eyes were struggling to keep up and adapt to the decreasing light levels.