“We can build a fire tonight and have warm soup,” Levi says, turning to me. We had been walking through the forest for what seemed like hours. This was the first time we had ventured this far since we found our hideout. We had run out of food and were running out of options. We had found a jackpot of soup cans in an old storage shed today. “For sure. I was getting sick of rat ground beef,” I reply, jokingly. I look to Levi. His bright blue eyes shine in the sunset leaking from the treetops. “Well fine then, ungrateful. I can’t impress everyone with my chef skills I guess,” he says, jokingly offended and begins to pick up pace. “Oh, come on!” I half jog to catch up. Suddenly, Levi comes to a stop, and I nearly run into him. He stands very still, looking before us, and I follow his gaze. A living one stands, facing us up the path. Its arm was missing, and the skin was tight and grey. Black, thick veins were visible, lacing around the sunken eye sockets, down to the mouth that was hanging too low. Levi reaches his hand out slowly, and I hand him the gun. I turn and press my back up against his, searching all around for the others that were sure to follow. I hear the click of the gun and feel Levi’s arm rise and aim. Boom. He shoots. The living one falls and as soon as it hits the ground, they all run out. They come from all around us, limping and crawling with unnatural speed. “Ashton, come on!” Levi grabs my arm and we race towards the fallen living one, our only opening out. The dead let out a screech, making my heart jump. We leap over the body and run through the trees. We hear them run towards us. Levi and I escape the cover of the trees and begin to ascend the hill to the huge house. My legs start to burn as I climb and look back to see Levi has fallen behind. That stupid backpack. I look to the forest and watch as the living ones run out, one by one. “Levi, just leave it! Come on!” A living one is catching up and isn’t more than ten feet from Levi as he rips his backpack off. He starts to run again, but the living one is faster. It jumps on Levi and they fall to the ground. I let out a scream and run to them. The living one is atop Levi, mouth open, dripping blood and saliva on his face. It’s hands cup around Levi’s neck, sinking its jagged fingernails into his flesh. I grab the weighted backpack off the ground and hit the living one with full force. It flies off Levi and lets out a high-pitched screech. I quickly help Levi up, and he holds up the gun to shoot the creature. I feel a wet hand wrap around my calf and look down. A living one is grabbing tightly on my leg. This one only has its torso and intestines were spilling out the bottom end. A trail of blood and clumps of flesh can be seen on the living one’s trail up the hill. I scream and try to shake it off, but it grabs my other leg and pulls. I fall and slam my head against the ground. “Ashton!” Levi cries. I see him aim his gun and pull the trigger. I hear a coughing cry come from the thing on my leg. It almost sounds like a laugh. It releases my leg, leaving my leg slimy and covered in black blood. Levi grabs the back of my shirt and hoists me up. We start running up the mountain again, more living ones at our heals. We reach the big house and rush through the big doors. We go quickly to the hidden door in the floor. Levi opens the latch in the floor and screams at me to jump in. I quickly climb in and hold the door open as Levi follows. He grabs the handle of the trapdoor and starts to pull it shut. Just as the door is about to close, a living one sticks its hand through the crack. Levi slams the heavy door shut. The hand is cut off and falls to the floor. We look through the dark at the deteriorating hand as it wriggles and comes to a stop. Wails and slamming can be heard from above. They want in. They want food. I look up at Levi and see he is breathing heavy, still looking at the amputated hand. His neck is covered in blood and bruises. I quickly reach my hand out to the wall and flip a switch. Immediately, light floods into the secret room. Our hideout isn’t huge. Up against the concrete wall is a bunk bed and across to the other side of the room is a stove and sink. A single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, our only source of light. I grab Levi and push him to sit on the floor, back leaning against the bunk. He takes a quick intake of breath and grabs at his ankle. “Ow, Ash. Careful.” I look and see his ankle has started to swell purple and blue. I grab a thin blanket from the bottom bunk and rip a corner off. I walk to the sink and turn the faucet. Brown tinted water leaks through and soaks the piece of fabric. “Ashton, your legs are covered in blood,” Levi says, voice strained. I look down. My legs are black with blood. I turn away quickly, remembering the half-bodied monster that the blood came from. “Here. Wipe the blood from your neck. I’m going to boil some water, and we can soak your ankle.” I hand him the wet fabric and start looking for matches to light the stove. “We lost all the food,” he says scrubbing at his neck. He pulls one of his long legs up to his chest and outstretches the injured. His foot almost reached the other side of the room. “It’s ok. Once they leave, I can go back and find our pack. They probably didn’t even notice it.” A false hope but what else can I say? Levi rests his head on the edge of the bed and sighs. “Ash, we barely have enough food for three days.” I close my eyes. I hear the footsteps circling, the dragging of bodies pulling themselves across the floor above. “Just shut up and go to sleep. I’ll take care of your ankle.” I can see the dark circles under his bright blue eyes from where I stand. Levi glares at me but obeys. I help him up into the bottom bunk, and he falls asleep almost instantly. I boil the discolored water in a small iron pot as he sleeps, watching as the steam rises to the ceiling. I leave the hot water to cool a little and reach for the rag wrapped around Levi’s neck. I slowly peel it off and a gasp escapes me when I see what’s underneath. Holes have punctured the skin and inside, red blood curdles. It can’t be a bite mark. It can’t be. I shake my head and walk to the hot water with the rag. It’s not a bite mark. It’s not. I dip the rag in the water and wring it out, water dripping back into the pot. Bite marks are wider, not little holes. I wrap the fabric around Levi’s swollen ankle and sit at the edge of the bed, watching as his chest rises and falls. I look at the wounds again. Bite marks are the cause of infection. If you’re bitten, you die. But…you don’t die. You become a living one. Your body will start to deteriorate as if it is dead but there’s something there that wants to survive. Something is in you, fighting to live. And it will do anything to live. It will consume anything around it. Anyone. Cannibalism seems to be the key to life after death. But it isn’t a bit mark. It can’t be. I’d have to kill him if it was. We agreed on that. If one is bitten, the other must kill. “For our survival,” we had said. I can’t kill him. It doesn’t take long for a person to turn after being bitten. Hours. I watch for any signs of deterioration. Was his skin thinner than before? I didn’t remember it being this grey. I shake my head and stand up from the edge of the bed. It’s not a bite. It’s not a bite. But if it is, I must kill him. I’ll wait till he wakes up, see if he’s…normal. As a person turns, they become quiet. Hardly speaking. As if a hundred thoughts are running through there heads for the last time, and they need to focus on every one of them. They start becoming more abrupt, less aware of their movements. They will also have an uncontrollable feeling of hunger. They must eat. I touch the fabric on Levi’s ankle and see it has gone cold. I take the fabric and walk back to the pot filled with lukewarm water. I light another match and start the fire again. The sounds above have quieted down. All that’s left is a low moan from right above the hatch door. It’s a constant hum, no intake of breath. The dead don’t need air. I dip the fabric back into the hot water and swish it around. I watch as the blood encrusted on my hands seeps into the dark water, swirling. What a funny thing the water is. One minute, mostly clear, only tinted. The next, someone dips their hands in and gets things bloody. Bloody. So very bloody. I wring out the fabric and walk back to the bed where Levi lays, asleep. I throw the rag back on his ankle and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning my head against the cold, concrete wall. I have to kill him. I have to. He is going to die anyway. His heart would stop soon, and he’d become one of those monsters. He’d wake up hungry for flesh and I’d be standing there - practically served on a plate. I was hungry. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. I hadn’t had a good meal in years. Just stray rats and whatever spare scraps I could find outside Levi’s little hideout. My stomach growled loudly when I thought of the squirrel, I had caught the previous week. Small but oh so delicious. My stomach lurched with a ferocious hunger pain. I bit down on my hand to keep from throwing up. I couldn’t afford to waste whatever was left in my small body. I looked over at Levi. He was still asleep. His chest was still rising and falling. But he looked thinner. Veins were more prominent. He was losing color I could most definitely see. The bite mark on his neck had stopped bleeding and was now open holes in his neck. I looked around for the gun. I searched frantically around in the small room, but it was nowhere to be seen. I walked over to where the door in the ceiling was and looked around. The hand still lay in the corner, completely still. I picked it up and observed it. My stomach let out a thundering growled, and I dropped the hand. I heard a stir from Levi and quickly turned around. He didn’t move. I couldn’t hear his breathing anymore. I was running out of time. I grabbed the box of matches from the stove and lit one. I watched it burn. It flickered. Flickering. Flicker. It burned down to my fingers and ate at the tips of them. Oh, little flame. At least you can satisfy your hunger. I quickly drop the match and light another one, walking slowly to where Levi stirs. I look down at his grey face. He opens his eyes when he feels the heat of the flame next to his sunken cheek. “Ash, what are you doing?” I don’t answer. I just watch as my hand moves the match closer, almost touching the dark vein that sticks from Levi’s forehead. “Oh no. Ashton.” Levi grabs my hand and blows out the flame. His eyes aren’t blue anymore. They’re clouded grey. They look at me with hunger. No. Heartbreak. Wait. “Ashton. No. Your leg. Were you bitten?” Levi jumps from the bed yelping in pain as his ankle hits the floor. I’m so hungry. I have to kill him. He’s going to eat me. He’s turning. There’s no more blue. I see him reach for his belt. The gun sticks out there. I can’t let him kill me. I jump at him, clawing at his face with my hand. “Ashton, stop!” He pushes me, and I slam against the wall. I’m so hungry I reach my hand down to clutch my cramping stomach. But nothing grabs. I look down. Where’s my hand? There’s just a stub. And this clawing hunger. I need to kill him. I look up at Levi. His hand holds the gun, aiming right at my head. “I’m-I’m so sorry,” he says. I see a single tear run down his face. He’s going to kill me and eat me. I’m so hungry. His finger goes for the trigger, but he hesitates. I lurch. I wrap my arms around his legs and pull. He falls. I take my hand and dig my nails into his neck. I push my fingers in until I feel a thin tube. I pull. His neck opens, and he lets out a single screech. He stops moving. I’m so. Hungry. I look down at the living one. But. Why is there blood spurting on me? Why is the blood still pumping? Why is there a slow heartbeat? He was a living one, he shouldn’t have a heartbeat. I reach the stub of my arm to my chest. There is no heartbeat.